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deathmybride · 7 months ago

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ midnight at noonday | dead poets society *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ship: Surprise! x fem!OC

warnings: none... yet (muahahaha)

summary: Clare Keating is given the opportunity to attend the prestigious all-boy's preparatory school Welton Academy. Boy-mad and in denial, she must navigate friendships, crushes, and academics, all while helping to run the school's underground poets club.

word count: 2949

a/n: Hi guys, this chapter was originally written in third person, but I changed it to first person. I have read through it MANY times to ensure that the pronouns all make sense, and used control F, but it seems that some continue to slip through the cracks. I am very sorry if any mistakes remain after I have posted this notice. (Also this was originally published on AO3!)

There would be no flowers for Welton’s first female student. The only welcome I received was a short paragraph at the end of the Welton annual letter including my surname and the promise to any concerned parents that the faculty would not let my presence distract their sons from their studies. I was to keep my head down, study hard, and make no sudden moves, lest I be transferred to Henley Hall, leaving my father behind. I don’t offer you this position lightly, Miss Keating. Mister Nolan’s voice plagued my thoughts. Don’t make me regret where I place my faith. My breath seemed to catch on a thorn in my throat, and I lost my grip on my heavy suitcases that thumped to the floor on either side of me. My vest was scratchy, blouse stiff with too much starch, blazer too thick around the neck and boiling hot, skirt too long, shoes too tight… I thought of my father down at the gates, ‘holding the fort,’ which no doubt meant fighting for my thin claim to a place in the most exclusive boys’ preparatory school in the United States; pleading my case, charming the parents, dying inside.

“That’s the Keating girl!”

The raucous hallway chatter trickled to a whisper as the boys drew in around me.

“Yeah, from the newsletter.”

“You sure?”

“Who else could it be, dummy?”

I tore my eyes from the floor to see dozens of boys stealing glances at me as they passed, and a few outright gawking.

“Doesn’t she look like a barrel o’ laughs?” One of them hissed.

“What does she need two suitcases for?”

“Special treatment.”

I tried to speak, but my teeth were somehow glued together. I tried to walk, but my feet were cast in concrete.

“Hey, get out of the way, would you?” Someone bumped into my back. “You’re taking up the whole hallway!”

I turned, arms stiff and mouth dry to see a frowning young man with a froggish mouth and a face full of orange freckles. I tried to apologise, but only a thin trickle of air escaped my throat.

“Oh, you’re Keating’s daughter! Hi, how ya going? I’m Richard Cameron.” His hand shot up to smooth his auburn flat top. He paused, eyebrows raised for an answer. “Oookaaay.” He looked at me like I was crazy, and I feared he might be right. “You really oughta move, you’re gonna get trampled.”

“Clare.” I whispered to his back as it disappeared into the crowd. “My name’s Clare.”

Regaining my voice lent me a small burst of energy, just enough to pick my cases back up and hobble a few more steps down the hall. My arms burned with the effort and my lungs seemed far too small. I gritted my teeth and closed my mind to the hushed gossiping happening right in front of me. Just a few more steps, surely my room would be just around this bend. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. The hallway led to yet another hallway. Surely I should just sit down and die of heatstroke, right? I'll just leave my spirit here, cursed to eternally wander this academic desert...

“...the Keating girl…” Over the ruckus I heard a fragment of the Cameron boy’s voice. “Well… pretty enough… idiot savant or something!”

My stomach turned over. What was wrong with me? I strained to remember if I had hit my head some time between breakfast and the welcome ceremony and turned visibly stupid. The humiliation was almost too much to bear, and I felt my knees on the verge of buckling.

“Hey, excuse me?” Just as my heart was about to break, another soft voice spoke up, leaving me no time at all to wallow in self pity. “Would you like some help with your bags?” The voice belonged to another red-head, this time with a kindly, mouse-ish face and big browline glasses. He smiled soothingly when I failed to respond and gestured to my bags. “My friends and I would be happy to help you.”

“Uh-th-” I pressed my lips together and swallowed hard against the urge to vomit. “That’s okay.”

“Hey, they must weigh a ton! We don’t mind, really.” Two more boys appeared at the red-head’s side, the taller one spoke up and took no time to pick up the bag at my left, making a little ‘oof’ sound as he stood up.

“Thank you, y-you really don’t have to.”

“Charlie, help her out would you?” The red-head hit his shorter friend on the arm insistently.

“Is that an order, Meeks?” The friend quirked an eyebrow.

“You wanna fail Latin? No. So pick the bag up. I’m sorry about this.” He addressed me again, placing a solemn hand on his heart. “My name is Steven Meeks, this is Knox Overstreet-”

“Hi, there.” The taller boy took a step forward and nodded. He had the sort of dorky casanova spirit in his hazel eyes and lop-sided smile that was unmissable.

“-and-”

“Charlie.” He sidled up, arranged his face in a smouldering smirk, and offered his hand to shake. “Dalton.”

“It’s very nice to meet all of you.” I was very glad to have my voice back, though I nearly lost it again when Charlie swooped in and kissed the back of my hand. I snatched it away and cast a fearful glance up and down the hallway, thankfully seeing no teachers or hall monitors. “You can’t do that! What if somebody saw?”

“What if?” His cocky smile faltered as his eyebrows furrowed.

“They’d transfer me to Henley Hall!”

“Oh.” His face fell.

“Anyway, Miss Keating,” Steven stepped in to put us back on track, calming me with his even temper. “We’re on our way to visit our good friend Neil Perry to organise a study group for this semester. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, sure.” A genuine smile grew on my face, the first since I had arrived at Welton. “I’d really appreciate that, thank you. And please, call me Clare.”

“No problem, Clare.” He put a gentle hand on my shoulder to show me the way, but the moment was brief and clandestine.

“You got a speciality?” Knox grunted as he lugged the suitcase along.

“Knoxious, her father’s the English teacher.” Charlie rolled his eyes, voice tense with effort.

“Well, sure, but maybe she hates English, and that’s why!”

“I-I don’t. I’m happy to cover English, but I can also do History if you need me to.”

“You’re in.” Charlie winked. “But no way are you doing History. That’s mine. I can’t be a total free-loader now, can I?”

“I suppose not.”

We shuffled along the hall until we came to a room mid-way along. Charlie and Knox dropped my bags by the door and the three boys crowded around the doorway, waiting for whoever was inside to notice them. I pushed my thumb into my palm, waiting on the outskirts of the group.

“Rumour has it,” Charlie pointed an accusatory finger into the room. “You did summer school.”

“Yep, chemistry.” I propped myself onto my tiptoes, trying to see over the group. “My father thought I should get ahead. How’s your summer, Slick?”

“Keen.” Charlie took a sauntering step forward, earning half a laugh from Steven. He stepped into the room and tossed over his shoulder, “Meeks, door, closed.”

I took note of Charlie and Meek’s strange dynamic of mutual bossiness, and decided I liked this old married couple. Steven and Knox heaved my cases into the room, sliding one into a free space behind the right side closet and the other beside the desk on the left, while I slipped in quietly and closed the door, feeling much safer with no prying eyes on me. I quickly relieved myself of my blazer and hung it over my arm.

“What’s all this?” The boy with the dark hair- Neil, I supposed- poked one of the cases with his toe.

“Oh, Neil, this is Clare Keating.” Steven spoke up, his hand genially placed on my upper arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” The prettiest boy I had ever seen stooped down and took my hand, shaking it delicately. “I’m Neil Perry.”

“I’m Cl- It’s um, nice to meet you Neil… Perry.” I stumbled, transfixed by two dark eyes under two thick eyebrows, the colour of stained oakwood.

“Aw jeez, here we go.”

“Shut up, Charlie.” Neil said evenly, barely tossing a glance at him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

He stepped away and stood by the radiator beneath the window, the autumn sun forming a halo on his sooty hair. The room seemed to blur and disappear behind his radiance, like a soft focus photograph. I had never felt embarrassed by a person's beauty until that moment.

“Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?”

“Travesty!” They all chanted, Knox shushing them frantically. “Horror! Decadence! Excrement!”

I found myself giggling at their antics, feeling a swell of gratitude to have found such a kind group of people in such a frightening place. Neil grinned at me as they all found places to sit, sending a current of electricity through my heart. I suddenly found myself with a huge excess of energy, and feeling it would be a bridge too far to sit on a stranger’s bed- there being no seats left- settled for standing at Steven’s side.

“Okay, study group.” Charlie got down to it. “Meeks aced Latin, I didn’t quite flunk History, and Clare here has gotta be an English whizz; so, if you want, we got our study group.”

“Sure. Cameron asked me too.” Neil said, a little reluctantly. “Anyone mind including him?”

I wished I could speak up about overhearing his insult earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself too. Instead, I promised myself I would try to give the boy a second chance, now that I had my voice back.

“What’s his specialty, bootlicking?” Charlie rolled his eyes and sparked a cigarette.

“He’s your roommate.” Neil fired back.

“That’s not my fault.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, my name is Steven Meeks.” Ever the gentlemen, Steven introduced himself to a young man that had gone entirely unnoticed by me. I felt ashamed to have brushed over him so easily, but how could I blame myself under circumstances like these?

“Oh, this is Todd Anderson.” Neil reached over to tap the boy encouragingly on the back. The boys all exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, leaving me as the last.

“I’m Clare Keating.” I shook his hand, feeling it cold and clammy to the touch. “It’s nice to meet you, Todd.”

“Nice to meet you.” He muttered, face red beneath his freckles, and shied away quickly.

“Todd’s brother was Jeffrey Anderson.” Neil stated, as if I should be impressed.

“Oh, yeah sure!” Charlie saved me the embarrassment. “Valedictorian. National Merit scholar.”

I thought of my father, the Welton honours graduate, Cambridge educated, published poet, well-liked by all… Tough shoes to fill.

“Welcome to Hell-ton!” Steven exclaimed.

“It’s every bit as tough as they say,” Charlie said gravely. “Unless you’re a genius, like Meeks.”

“He flatters me. That’s why I help him with Latin.”

“And English, and trig.” Charlie interrupted himself with a cough.

A knock came on the door. All in a second, an Oxford shoe ground out the cigarette and kicked it under Neil’s bed, I disappeared into the wardrobe, stepping onto the suitcase laying at the bottom, and drew the curtain across and held my breath. I had no idea where my sudden instinct for rebellion had risen from, but I was thankful for it when the door creaked open and an authoritative footstep sounded on the floor outside.

“Father,” Neil’s voice cracked. “I thought you’d gone.”

I heard my new friends form a chorus of ‘hello, Mr Perry,’ and scramble to their feet. I held a hand over my mouth to quiet my breathing.

“Keep your seats, fellas, keep your seats.” An older man’s voice said genially. “Neil, I’ve just spoken to Mr Nolan. I think you’re taking too many extracurricular activities this semester, and I’ve decided that you should drop the school annual.”

“But, I’m the assistant editor this year.” My heart nearly broke at the distress in his voice.

“Well, I’m sorry Neil.” Mr Perry’s voice carried a challenging undercurrent.

“But, father, I can’t! It wouldn’t be fair!” Neil’s voice raised frantically.

“Fellas, would you excuse us a moment?”

A silence fell and I held my breath as the pair stepped past my hiding place on the way out. Too terrified to move, I stayed where I was, hearing their argument muffled through the wall. After a few moments, it seemed Neil’s father had departed and the rest of the boys had made their way over to comfort him. I had never been so grateful for my father. Yet, I still failed to move, frozen at the thought that the old ghoul might be staring right at me if I pulled away the curtain. After a few moments, a hesitant hand pulled back the fabric to reveal Neil’s sweet little roommate who seemed so uninterested in making friends.

“Um, h-he’s gone.”

“Thanks, Tom.” I stepped down and gave him a grateful smile. “That was scary, huh?”

“U-um…” Tom went beet-red and wide-eyed, stammering like words were hot food in his mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was this your suitcase? I didn’t mean to step on it, it just sort of happened. I don’t think I broke it.”

“N-no, I…”

“Well, uh, Latin?” Steven and the others stepped back into the room, interrupting us. “Eight o’clock in my room?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Todd, Clare, you’re welcome to join us.” Steven addressed us. My heart sank.

“Yeah, come along guys.” Knox spoke up.

“Thanks.” Todd nodded, eyes still wide.

“Thank you, I’ll be there.” I promised, and as the others filed out, I turned to Todd and grimaced sheepishly. I had my voice back, for sure, and now a torrent of words poured out of me. “Oh, jeez, Todd, I’m sorry. I’m terrible with names, I really am. I really blew it didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.”

“It-it’s okay.” He nodded, smiled stiffly, and sat down at his desk with his back to me.

“Well, I… I better bounce.” I said to the back of his head. “Um, Neil?” The boy wandered into the room, listless and dejected, but made an effort to brighten his expression when I addressed him. “I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, but, do you think you could show me to the teacher’s wing?”

“Of course.” He bent down to pick up one of my suitcases, groaning when he straightened back up. “Gosh, this is heavy. What do you have in here?”

“It’s books, mostly.” I took the other one and lugged it out of the room. “I can’t do without them.”

“The perks of having a teacher for a father, I suppose.” He said, a wistful tone in his voice. “At least they keep you strong, huh?”

“Hmm.” To my dismay, I could find nothing to say to comfort the boy, or anything to say at all, for that matter. I wished I could just be consistent.

“Hey, smart thinking in there!” Charlie appeared beside us, grinning proudly. “I didn’t pin you for the rebellious type, but you seem to be a natural.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“Here, let me take that for you.” Before I could protest, the suitcase was out of my hands. “Where are we off to?”

“Teacher’s wing.”

“Well, you went completely the wrong way. How did you manage that?” Charlie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll get you there.”

As we traipsed through the halls, retracing most of my steps, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Neil. My mind raced with verse after verse at the faraway look in his eyes. I felt like Byron, struck by beauty in the moonlight and scrambling to capture the moment like a firefly in a jar of words.

“Neil?” I said softly, surprised for a moment to hear my own voice. “I’m sorry about… the thing, the newspaper.”

“It’s fine.” He smiled sadly, but gratefully. “I still have soccer and… stuff.”

“My father is coaching soccer. We might be on the same team.”

“Maybe.” His smile grew a little more genuine. “You’d better hope you’re not with Charlie. He’s a terror.”

“Is it a crime to want to win?” Charlie retorted.

“You’d think it's a crime not to, the way you carry on.”

“Yeah, yeah. Which room?”

“Three-ten. I think it’s the first one here.”

Sure enough, my room was the first one in the wing, closest to the hallway. I thanked the both of them, laughing as Charlie waggled his eyebrows and bowed with mock reverence on his way. Neil lingered a moment by my door under the pretence of making sure I had everything right and that my key worked.

“I’ll see you at the study group, then.” I leaned up against the doorframe, feeling infinitely lucky to have the privilege of looking at him.

“See you then.” He turned to go, but hesitated. “Hey, Clare? If you need anything, come find one of us. Those guys you met today are some of the most upstanding people at this school. We’ll help you if you’re ever… I don’t know. If you ever need it.”

“Thank you, Neil. I appreciate that.”

With a final nod of acknowledgement, he disappeared, and I ran across the room and tossed myself onto the bed, exhausted, and dreading the task of unpacking the horrible truth: I had fallen right off the deep end and landed squarely in love with Neil Perry.

#neil perry x reader #todd anderson x reader #steven meeks x reader #gerard pitts x reader #charlie dalton x reader #richard cameron x reader #knox overstreet x reader #dead poets society #dead poets x reader #dead poets society x reader

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Prima Vista Part VII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Warnings: dramatics, gaslighting, pining pining pining, drinking, attempted drugging, blacking out, vomiting, Nile and Hitch hook up, did I mention pining, one Greek word (thank you again, @cynnyc .)

It’s nearly ten PM as you climb the steps to the PKA house. The brisk October air makes you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and move toward the door faster. You probably should’ve texted your target first, checked to see if he’s even here, but you’re not about to stand outside and wait for a reply, not when you can just knock and ask a living soul.

It’s Reiner who answers, looking extremely tired with dark circles under his eyes. You idly wonder if he and the other new kids are being kept awake as another stupid fucking hazing ritual, but you don’t really have the time for small talk.

“Erwin here?”

The blond nods and steps out of the way. “His room. Might already be asleep.”

Shrugging, you walk inside, mumbling, “Just gonna have to wake his ass up then.”

Which you do, climbing up to the third story after Reiner tells you which room he’s in now. You knock on the door a couple times and almost feel bad when Erwin answers, clearly rumpled in pajama pants and bedhead.

He squints at you, and you snort. “Sleep before ten? You some kinda nerd or somethin’?”

“What do you want?” He gruffs, voice a little scratchy.

You can see part of the room behind him, looks pretty similar to the one from last year. That had been the only time you’d really gotten a close look into his space, and it had not ended well. You hope this time will be different.

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

Erwin scrubs a hand down his face then rests his head against his doorframe. “I’ll take a wild guess and say this is about Mike.”

You push your lips out in a pout and respond, “Maybe.”

He lets you into his room, catches you off guard when he asks, “Door open or closed?”

“Depends. You gonna come onto me again?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I learned my lesson last time.”

“You can shut it then.”

Taking up the chair at his desk, you watch as Erwin just crawls back under his covers and fixes cerulean eyes on you.

“Why haven’t you been talking to him?”

Something in your stomach flips, eyes growing as you splutter, “I haven’t been talking to him? He hasn’t been talking to me!”

Erwin frowns. “What? He’s been bitching to me incessantly.”

“And, I’ve been bitching to Hitch incessantly.”

Groaning into his pillow, Erwin holds out his hand, and you hear a muffled command, “Give me your phone.”

You do without hesitation, rattle off the passcode then sit and wait as Erwin scrolls through what you assume to be your settings or contacts. The thought that you should be a little scared crosses your mind—you do have some compromising photos in an unlocked folder—but judging by Erwin’s current mood, he doesn’t seem interested in anything except sleeping.

“That motherfucker,” he grunts.

“What?”

“You blocked his number.”

“What?” This time is much louder and panicked. “No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t.”

He tosses you the device back and gestures in a ‘see for yourself’ manner. “Someone did.”

Your blood begins to boil as you stare down at your short list of blocked contacts, Mike’s name right on top.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You quickly tap to remedy the problem, hands beginning to shake. “I don’t even know how—”

“My money’s on the shitty boyfriend,” Erwin mumbles.

You want to text Mike, but you have no idea what to say. Sorry we haven’t talked in over a month. Zeke figured out my phone password and blocked your number haha. You doubt that would fly.

If you had just come to Erwin sooner, most of this could have been avoided. You don’t know if you’re more upset at Zeke or at yourself.

Zeke. Definitely Zeke. That is some wildly possessive behavior. That’s isolation. The idea makes you nauseous. This is just another instance of him showing what you believe to be his true self. Between all the fighting and grudges, you’re at your wit’s end. Just the other day, the two of you had gotten into yet another argument when you happened to get a glance at the Tinder icon in his app list.

“Why do you still have that?” You’d asked with a frown. You really hadn’t planned on it turning into an ordeal.

“Have what?”

“Tinder.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then, right in front of your eyes, he had deleted the app. You saw it, but that didn’t stop Zeke from looking at you with a straight face and telling you, “I think you’re just confused, babe.”

That’s when it turned into an ordeal. That’s when you got defensive and incredulous. That’s when he just kept telling you that you were wrong, that you were just seeing things, and after a good thirty minutes once you were nice and high strung, he actually had you halfway convinced.

Because he always sounds so sure of himself, always makes it so that his word is law. You had doubted yourself—you’re still doubting yourself.

“Jesus, I can’t believe this,” you breathe, leaning back in the rolling chair and staring up at the ceiling. You can believe it, actually, you just hadn’t expected him to sink that low. “What do I even say to Mike?”

Erwin finally pushes himself into a sitting position and stretches. Seems like he’s just resigning himself to being awake. “Whatever it is, you should probably talk it out in person.”

“Probably.”

“Might be a little difficult now, though.”

Heaving a sigh, you mutter, “Yeah, I assume he's pretty pissed at me.”

Erwin hums, but his voice comes out a little unsure when he says, “Well, that, but also…”

You're suddenly sitting straight up. “Also what?”

Making a face, the man across from you enlightens you to the fact that, “Mike is kind of seeing someone. I think.”

You blink at him, trying to process what he’s telling you. Mike is… With someone? You feel sick.

But, you shouldn’t because he’s allowed to branch out. You surely did, and you hurt him in the process.

“It, uh… It gets worse.”

Swallowing, you try to hide the lump in your throat when you rasp, “How?”

Don’t cry. Do not cry. You have no right to cry.

“I’m about ninety-nine percent positive it’s Zeke’s ex.”

Every muscle in your face suddenly relaxes, but it isn’t in a good way. Instead of frowning, your brow softens into its normal position. You release the tension in your jaw, the teeth that were just clenched falling away from each other as your lips part. Erwin moves in and out of focus as your gaze becomes blurry, hot tears gathering at your waterline, and now you don’t even try to stop them from falling.

Fucking Rhi. She had been nothing more than an annoyance before, a peppy little annoyance trying to grab your boyfriend’s attention. But, now… Now, you’re ready to fight. Parking lot brawl, throwing fists and pulling hair, and screeching—you want to destroy her.

“Oh.” You sniffle then wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s good. I mean—” a quiet cough, “—that’s good for him. I’m glad.”

Erwin snorts. “No, you’re not,” his volume rises a bit. “So, don’t pretend like you are. God, why are you guys so bad at this?”

You let out a humorless laugh and shrug. “‘Cause I have shitty timing, I guess.” You bite your lip and look back to the ceiling, trying not to weep too openly, but your lungs are burning, preventing you from breathing, and your heart is bruising your ribcage, and you think your bones just might shatter inside of your chest.

There’s a rustling on the bed, and when you look back at Erwin, you find him laying down again but holding the blankets up in front of him.

“Come on.”

“W-what? Erwin, that is literally the last thing we—”

“I’m not trying to fuck,” he says, eyes heavy as he stares at you. “You need to relax, and I need to sleep, so just come on."

You consider for a while, looking from Erwin to the mattress. You’re really not that close, would barely even call him your friend, but you did come to him tonight. You had chosen to confide in him. He makes some pretty questionable decisions sometimes, but you still believe that ultimately he’s a good person.

“Fine, but put a shirt on.”

“Then, grab one. Second drawer. Make sure it’s soft.”

You roll your eyes but do as you're told, running your hands over a few t-shirts until you find one that he should be pleased enough with. He tugs it on then collapses back on the bed, and you kick your shoes off then slip out of your jacket and under the covers.

You’re facing him, trying to keep a few inches between yourself and his chest, but as you think about the position you’re in—why you’re in it, the tears start flowing freely again, and you’re holding back little whimpers, shoulders shaking at the effort. Erwin breathes in deeply then uses the arm he isn’t laying on to pull you to him, shushing you as he rubs the space between your shoulder blades with a warm hand.

“We’ll get it sorted out,” he promises, voice quiet as he starts to doze.

It’s not how you expected to end the night, but you suppose there are worse ways.

Mike learns a lot of information in a very short amount of time. Nile meets him outside of the fitness center to give him the scoop, trying to look casual as he walks, but Mike can tell he's nervous.

He starts by asking if Mike has talked to you at all recently, and no, he has not. So, Nile tells him that you broke things off with Zeke and apparently it got messy.

"Something about him being a manipulative bastard," Nile waves a hand.

"Doesn’t surprise me. Took her long enough."

You've been hanging around the Pike house again, sometimes by yourself and sometimes with Hitch—"Who's really fucking cute, by the way." Obviously Nile and Marie are in the 'off' portion of their relationship cycle. "And, you would know all this if you would just start coming around again. It's stupid to pay dues and not actually engage with the frat, dude."

"I've just been busy with school," Mike tells him. It's only a half lie. His senior courses are kind of kicking his ass, but he's also been busying himself with Rhi who is… tolerable.

"Whatever. Halloween party is in, like, a week. If you don't show up, I'm gonna be real pissed."

"I'll be there, Nile."

"Okay, then lemme prepare you for one more thing."

Mike stops walking and looks at the smaller man who inhales deeply then blows air out through his teeth.

"So, uh, she's hanging around again, right? And, you're not there, so it seems like she's sort of, uh, latched onto…" He makes a face, and Mike leans back.

"Don't fucking tell me."

Nile cringes. "Yeah. I don't think they're fucking or anything. I haven't heard them in his room like I used to hear the two of you."

"She goes into his room?" Mike has to flex his hand by his side, but the brick wall of the library they've stopped in front of is looking mighty nice. Break a few bones, bleed a little, it'll feel good.

"Yeah, but, like, they're nowhere near as close as you and her."

"How close we used to be. It's been so fucking long since we've even talked, dude. And, any time I try to catch her on campus, the dickbag is with her—"

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Yeah, now I just have to worry about her fucking my best friend. Fuck, she just—" Mike growls in his throat, contemplates turning to go back to the gym because he needs to get this energy out somehow. "She drives me fucking crazy."

"Yeah, I know, man. I just didn't want you to be surprised at the party when you see 'em all buddy-buddy."

"I'm gonna punch him," Mike states. "Just lay him out in front of everyone."

"Please don't," Nile sounds genuinely worried. "Maybe use the party as a way to, I don't know, talk to your girl? Like an adult?"

"Obviously not my girl, and I've been screwing around with Rhi anyway. Maybe it's just time we went our separate ways or whatever."

It physically hurts to even suggest, but he's trying to put on a brave face for his friend—act annoyed rather than fucking crushed, but god, he is aching. His stomach has opened up into nothing, his chest feels void of everything that was once inside, and he knows he's being dramatic, but fuck fuck fuck, first Zeke and now Erwin? What is it that Mike doesn't have? What can't he provide you with that they can? Just tell him, and he'll fucking fix it.

"Yeah, I think we both know that's not gonna happen. Plus, you do realize Rhi is probably just using you to make Zeke jealous."

"I'm not fucking stupid, Nile, of course I know that." But, Mike is really tired of his love life revolving around that asshole, like he has to wait for Zeke to call all the shots. "I'm using her as much as she's using me, so—"

"As a distraction?"

Mike lets his head loll to the side, peering down at Nile from the corner of his eyes. "What do you think?"

The other man gives him a light punch to the shoulder and once again suggests, "Talk things out. Just pull her aside at the party."

It's easier said than done. When Halloween rolls around, it's a little insane. It's too big and too loud with a flashing strobe that hurts Mike’s eyes. There are all sorts of costumes, making it hard to recognize anyone. The jungle juice is a mystery, one Mike doesn't plan on touching but that many people will. He has a feeling that more than a few party-goers are gonna end up sick, probably passing out in various locations of the house.

Mike has opted for an easy costume, the tacky tourist complete with his pink Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat, sunglasses, and a fanny pack. It's so awful, it actually made him laugh, but Rhi, clad in a spandex tiger suit, is not nearly as amused. She probably wanted him to go the sexy cop route or something equally as cringey, but Mike just doesn't have it in him tonight.

Nile is a shirtless cowboy, Hitch is a Catholic schoolgirl, Gelgar is Freddy Krueger with a pompadour, Reiner is a werewolf, the list goes on and on. Sexy, bloody nurses, superheroes, Harry Potter, and so on.

When his eyes land on you for the first time that night, Mike comes close to drooling his drink. Lola Bunny in her skimpy basketball uniform and a rabbit ear headband. Your face is painted, and you're carrying around one of those foam balls kids use to dunk into Fisher Price hoops, and he has no doubt the prop will be lost by the end of the party.

Mike thinks back to Spring Break, to you wincing at his movie choice then trying to sleep through it. You had woken up to him flipping through the photo album, then chose to finally open up to him.

So, why this costume? Why "torture" yourself like this?

And, speaking of torture, you're sticking to Erwin just like Nile said you would. The blond is in a tailored suit, his face painted like a skull. It's both classy and creepy, and Mike hates him for it. In fact, it calls for another drink.

Rhi finds him in the kitchen after making her rounds, taking up her former place on Mike's arm as he uses the counter to pop the lid off a fresh bottle. They watch the game of beer pong playing out in front of them, but Rhi doesn't seem content to just sit.

She has to stand on her tip-toes and shout into his ear, "Wanna walk around some?"

No. He really doesn't, but he can placate her, especially if it means getting laid later tonight.

They trek back to the main room, observing the debauchery taking place. People are grinding and stripping to Monster Mash. Several couples are spread out in the chairs or up against the wall getting pretty close to full on exhibitionism.

They stop to talk to "Officer" Marie for a while then move on to Nile and Hitch to whom Rhi spills everything she just heard from the busty redhead. They joke with Gelgar and his catch of the day, some of the pledges—Jean, Reiner, and Eren—who are just trying to survive, and then at last… you and Erwin.

Mike sees the way your chest rises with a deep breath, how your fingers tighten around the little basketball. Your eyes flit from Rhi to Mike, flashing when Rhi greets you.

Oh, you don't like her.

"Love the costume," she tells you. "Who are you supposed to be again?"

Mike chokes on his drink, and you suck your teeth before replying, "Lola Bunny. The Loony Toon."

"Oh, is that, like, Bugs Bunny's girlfriend?"

"Kind of?" You try.

Rhi looks to Erwin who visibly cringes when she asks, "Why aren't you dressed as Bugs then?"

Mike wants to turn around, to put as much distance between all of you as possible.

Erwin clears his throat. "Because that would be a couple's costume, and we're not…"

Mike knows his expression is skeptical, cold even, and when he settles it on you, you give him a little shake of your head that he doesn't really believe.

"Oh, alright," Rhi concedes only to chime, "'Cause I heard—"

"Wrong," Erwin cuts her off. "You heard wrong, Rhi." A hard, blue stare lands on Mike, unforgiving when he tells him, "I think it's time you two talked."

"I don't think that's really—"

"Oh, fuck," your swear gets everyone's attention, and Mike takes in the shock written all over your face then follows your line of sight to the entry way where Zeke god damn Jaeger is making his way through the crowd.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Erwin spits.

"You and Nile decided this should be an open party, dumbass," Mike reminds him with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, so we're name-calling now? Jesus Mike, grow up. You're just assuming shit!" As he rants, Erwin takes hold of one of your arms and pulls you behind him, snatching the furry headband from you so the ears don't stick out.

For a split second, Mike thinks he's trying to protect you from him, but then he nods to bring Mike's attention to the approaching figure behind him, and Mike understands.

He turns his body to face Zeke who's walking over, fragmented by the strobe, his icy eyes piercing straight through his glasses. Mike, despite his anger toward you, feels the primal urge to protect you.

"The fuck do you want, Jaeger?"

"Woah, calm down, bud. Just looking for a brat—about yea high, spreads her legs for any athlete she comes in contact with. You guys seen her?"

Mike steps toward him, but he's stopped by a hand that fists in the back of his shirt.

"Ah, there she is," Zeke smirks, and Mike looks over his shoulder to see you now in front of Erwin with your fingers clutching the pink material across his back.

"He's not worth it, Mike."

Mike thinks he is, though. He feels like he keeps getting whiplash, going back and forth between who he wants to hit at any given moment because it seems to change by the second.

He's just been so incredibly frustrated for the past few months. Lacrosse doesn't help, and the gym doesn't help, and fucking Rhi doesn't help. Mike has just been stewing, letting everything fester during the radio silence between the two of you. He's mad at so many people including himself, and all he wants to do is shove his way out of this stupid fucking party and take off his stupid fucking fanny pack and be alone in his apartment under his dumb fairy lights.

He shrugs out of your grip, figures the best thing he can do right now is get away from all of you. Zeke stumbles when Mike shoulders into him forcefully. He's not even a little surprised when Rhi doesn't follow him, choosing to vie for Zeke's attention instead.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Mike gets another drink in him.

He tries not to watch the way the heated conversation turns out, the way you bow up to Zeke and Erwin has to once again put himself in between you and the other blond. He tries not to smile at the fire in your eyes, that blaze he's seen so many times (usually when you're annoyed at him), and yes, there's that pain again, barely overshadowing Mike's anger.

You yell something at Zeke. He yells back. Erwin feels the need to add his own opinion, but the music is too loud for Mike to be able to make any of it out. Whatever is shouted makes Zeke huff and walk away. Rhi prances after him, and Mike resigns himself to the fact that he probably will not be fucking her after this shit show. He could always find someone else, but that takes effort (not much, but still), and then they usually get clingy afterward, and he just can't be bothered with all that right now. Mike can't be bothered with anything right now.

So he drinks.

He keeps an eye on Zeke who doesn't actually leave the party, and he drinks. He stares at you from across the room, bunny ears back in place, and he drinks. Somewhere between Boom and Beer Pong, he loses the fanny pack, looks down at some point and finds that it's just no longer there. All he had in there was a lighter and a couple condoms, so he isn't too broken up about it, but he does wonder—

Mike isn't sure what makes him look over at the counter where all the different drinks are set out, but he does, and it's just in time to see Eren hunching over the bowl of jungle juice like some shady motherfucker, and when Mike makes his way over, world spinning just a little bit, he sees the younger Jaeger brother emptying a little plastic bag of green pills into the punch.

"What the fu—" Mike has him by the collar before he can even finish his own question, tosses the kid away from the counter so that he actually falls to the floor. It causes a few people to hop out of the way, their drinks sloshing and spilling on the tile. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Eren looks up at Mike with wide, panicked eyes, like he's scared and waiting for someone to save him.

"I—I don't know what you think you saw, man—"

"I know exactly what I saw, you little creep!"

Everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of them as more people trickle in.

"What even was that? You trying to roofie the whole fucking party or something?"

"No!"

"Just one person, then? That one special girl," Mike hisses.

He walks back to the counter and grabs the large bowl of juice, carrying it over to Eren who's still on the ground. The kid covers his face just in time for Mike to empty the contents over his head, drenching him so that red drips from his hair and trickles down his arms.

"Drink up, bitch," Mike snarls before throwing the bowl so that it bounces off Eren's head.

Naturally, a bigger crowd has gathered, and Nile shoves his way through, shouting over the music, "What is happening?"

Mike leans over to yell in his ear, "Saw him pouring pills into the punch."

"Are you serious?"

Mike nods but steps away when Eren pushes himself off the wet floor and nearly throws himself at Nile.

"I didn't do it! I don't know what the fuck he's talking about!"

Nile arm-bars Mike when he tries to move toward the little twerp, lips pulling back from his teeth because it has been a shitty night. A shitty week. Shitty month. And, now his fury has shifted yet again.

"Did anyone else see it, Mike?" Nile asks.

"Probably not since everyone is fucked up—"

"Including you."

Mike looks over at his friend in genuine surprise because it's starting to sound like Nile doesn't believe him.

"Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?"

"Maybe because he's Zeke's brother," Nile suggests.

Mike is heated. He can feel the blood underneath his skin cooking his god damn insides, frying his brain so that all he can think about is throwing a punch or two (or twenty).

Jaw sliding, Mike shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath to steady himself, to stop his hands from shaking as he tries to figure out when his friends started looking at him as some unhinged freak.

"What are you doing—the fu—dude, stop!"

Opening his eyes again, Mike sees that Gelgar has inserted himself into the situation and has Eren pinned against the counter as he shoves his hands in every one of his pockets. He's growling something at the younger man, keeps shoving his face down against the linoleum any time Eren squirms, and after about a minute of people watching and gasping and making crude remarks about the position the two are in, Gelgar straightens up with a plastic bag identical to the one Mike saw Eren emptying into the jungle juice.

"It's just Adderall, I swear!"

Gelgar scoffs. "This is definitely not Adderall. Believe me, I'd know." He tosses the pills to Nile who takes a long look at them before glaring at Eren.

"Get the fuck out before I call the cops."

He should call them anyway, Mike thinks, but he understands Nile's hesitance. There's a lot going on at the party—underage drinking, party drugs in various rooms, etc. Eren wouldn't be the only one taken into custody if the police showed up.

Another voice rings out, asking the same question everyone else has, "What the hell is going on?" and Mike comes close to hurling the closest bottle at Zeke as he makes his way to his brother. "Why are you…" He gestures nebulously as his eyebrows pull together. Rhi is close behind him, and further still, you and Erwin are peeking into the kitchen.

"They think I drugged the jungle juice!" Eren looks at Zeke with puppy eyes that probably worked when he was a kid, might still work judging by the way the blond whirls around to face Mike and Nile.

"Have any proof, or are you just trying to—"

"Pipe down, Jaeger," Nile cuts him off, holding up the bag and explaining, "Mike saw him dropping these in the punch."

Zeke is silent for a few solid seconds before rounding on his brother again and grabbing him by the shirt right where Mike had previously held him, and everyone watches in rapt attention as he steers Eren through the crowd, shouting at him the entire time.

Having both of them leave is a relief, but Mike is a little disappointed that he didn't get to fight either of them. It would have been nice to feel a nose break under his fist, but he supposed it's better this way.

"Hey, thanks for catching that, dude," Nile says, slapping Mike's back.

It doesn't make him feel good. If anything, it pisses him off. Mike would understand if his friend had been skeptical of one of the pledges or second years making the accusation he had, but Nile is one of his best friends. They were inducted at the same time, were hazed side by side. Mike never would have thought Nile had such a low opinion of him, that he’d believe Mike’s little broken heart would cloud his judgement to the point of slandering someone without cause.

"Whatever," he shrugs before grabbing another drink.

He should just go back home. He isn't having a good time. He's angry at just about everyone he looks at. When Rhi decides he's worth her time again, Mike actually tells her to fuck off. He's lost the accessories to his costume, and he's about to lose his mind.

It's getting late. Mike isn't sure how late because as the night progresses, he gets steadily inebriated. He tries to avoid anyone and everyone in his fraternity, hanging out with people he knows from lacrosse or his classes instead. They play a few drinking games, take body shots off some sorority girls (or maybe it's the same one, he can't tell anymore). The music becomes bearable, and the strobe light stops hurting his head, and eventually, Mike just… forgets.

He forgets about Nile's lack of faith. He forgets about the fuckhead Jaeger brothers. He forgets about you and Erwin walking around and laughing together oh, ha ha we're so close now. He is finally spared from all of his negative thoughts.

Mostly because somewhere between shot number seven and beer number who knows what, Mike pukes into a plant (maybe?) and blacks out.

"God dammit. Erwin," you tug on his jacket sleeve and point to the corner that is home to a fake ficus that Mike is currently throwing up in.

Erwin groans, "Oh, Jesus Christ," and starts making his way over with you hot on his heels.

A few people are making faces as they glance at Mike, moving away as he coughs, straightens, then bends over again.

"Mike, come on, buddy," Erwin pats his back, waiting for Mike to pause in his retching so that he can duck under his arm and support him. "Gotta get you to a bathroom."

"No bath," Mike snorts. "No green there, no…"

You take a place on his other side, not that you can help much in getting him down the hall and in one of the downstairs restrooms, but you at least support his other arm and steer him in the right direction.

"Why is he talking about green?" Erwin grumbles as you both lower Mike to the tiled floor in front of the toilet where he promptly pukes again.

"The leaves maybe? I don't know, dude. Just…" You cringe as you notice the way Mike's shaggy hair hangs down into the toilet bowl, subject to all kinds of splash back. "Do you have a hair tie on you?"

"Literally why in the fuck would I have a hair tie on me?" Erwin asks incredulously, and you laugh because a couple weeks ago, he never would have used that word in this context since it's wrong, but the more you spend time with him, the more he picks up on your vernacular, and that really doesn't matter right now because—

"Water," Mike croaks, voice echoing off the ceramic.

"I don't think you'll be able to drink any right this second, man," Erwin tells him, squatting beside him.

Mike shakes his head. "Wanna feel—feel water. Cold."

"He sounds like a fucking caveman," you snicker.

You're really just trying to stay calm, masking the sick feeling in your stomach with amusement, but you've been watching Mike all night as he downed beer after beer, mixing various liquors as he took shots and licked salt off some chick's stomach. You figured he would get sick, but there wasn't really much you could do about it. He had made it pretty clear he isn’t interested in speaking to you. Still, you had purposely remained mostly sober just in case something like this happened (also because you make bad decisions when you get fucked up at frat parties).

"Yeah, he definitely won't remember any of this."

"Waterrr," Mike tries again, and you look at the way his arm is dangling over the side of the tub, the faucet on the opposite side, and glance at Erwin at a loss.

He shrugs, eyes darting around until he sees the plastic cup upside down on the shower rack. He grabs it, turns the water on and fills the cup, then dumps it over Mike's hand.

Mike groans, slowly wriggles his fingers under the stream, and drawls, "Thaaaank."

You shake your head and motion for the cup, talk loud enough to be heard over the faucet, "I can handle this. You go back outside."

"What? No."

"There's no reason both of us have to be in here. He's just gonna puke his guts out for a few hours and then pass out."

Erwin doesn't seem sold on the idea.

"Come on. You've gotta go back. You're vice president or whatever."

"So?"

"Erwin."

He stares at you for a while then deflates. "Fine. Do you have your phone on you?"

"Always." You gesture to the elastic waistband of your shorts, phone pressed to your hip as it hangs on the inside of the material.

"Text me if you need help, alright?"

"You got it, boss."

He leaves just in time for Mike to violently retch into the toilet, one hand clutching the bowl as his spine curves. You fill the cup back up, pour it over his hand once again, and repeat the action over… and over… and over.

His face and hair are gonna be a mess, probably his shirt too which is actually a blessing because you'll finally have a legitimate reason to burn it. Pepto Bismol pink and sketched palm trees stare at you as you sit on the edge of the tub, and all you can think of is the first time you saw Mike wearing the terrible shirt, how that had ended up, how you left with it the following morning.

How had the two of you gone from that to this? Sure, you weren't super fond of him at the beginning of it all, but he grew on you. A lot. He's your best fucking friend. Through the last couple months, through this weird fight you're having, he is your best friend. It's why you're here right now taking care of his drunk ass.

It'll pass. This phase will pass, and you'll make up, and you'll get your chance to be honest with him, to tell him how you feel about him. It may have taken you a little too long to arrive at your destination, so to speak, but better late than never. Soon, you'll both be able to look back on this and laugh.

People knock on the door here and there, and you scream at them to go away, eventually getting tired of it and just clicking the lock into place.

Any time you stop pouring water over his hand, Mike whines and attempts to say something, choppy words that don't make a ton of sense. You wonder if you need to call an ambulance, look for the signs of alcohol poisoning, but he doesn't feel cold, his breathing is even between bouts of vomiting, and his arms aren't curling in that tell-tale way.

More than likely, he just made himself sick. He knows better, too. He's been partying for a long enough time to be well aware of the mixing rules. Beer before liquor and all that shit. He may have just not cared tonight, though. From what Erwin has told you, Mike has just been in a generally bad mood for a while now (and Erwin has not tried to be subtle about why). He's barely around the Pike house anymore, he keeps getting called for personal fouls in lacrosse, and he's sleeping with Rhi which is nobody's business but is also strange considering her history—some kind of mutualistic symbiotic relationship that nobody is a real fan of.

Not my circus, not my monkeys, you think to yourself, emptying another cup from your place on the floor now. The ceramic was starting to hurt your ass, and you know your arm will probably be a little sore tomorrow, or later today since it's nearing three.

Fatigue is beginning to set in, and you know Mike is exhausted because he keeps dozing off on the toilet seat so that you have to nudge him back awake. Until he can speak in mostly coherent sentences, he's not allowed to sleep.

Sitting in the bathroom gives you ample amount of time to think. You go over some mental flashcards for a while, notes you took with the help of Mike's magic textbook. Then you think about going to your mom's for Thanksgiving and how much you aren't looking forward to it. Then you think about Zeke showing up only to have to escort his shady brother from the house. God, you had not been happy to see him. You'd been a little afraid, if you're being honest.

After figuring out that he had, in fact, blocked Mike's number on your phone, you had stomped into his apartment and initiated a screaming match. You got loud, he got louder, called you a stupid bitch and punched a hole in the drywall. You had decided that was a pretty good time to leave, both the apartment and the relationship. He's been lurking on campus around your most frequented spots—the science building, the library, but you've been doing a good job of camouflaging yourself in groups of other students. Even if he can see you, he can't do much about it.

You've thought about reporting him to campus police, but you know nothing will come of it. The golden boy can do no wrong. It's why you've been spending so much time at the PKA house again. You know most of them have your back, and you are absolutely not above asking any of them to walk somewhere with you to fend off your angry ex.

You can't wrap your head around what his fucking deal is. Surely he didn't treat Rhi like this after they split. There's no way she would still be so infatuated with him if he had. Is it just because you're the one who dumped him? He had to have seen it coming once you started putting the pieces together, the way he constantly tried to make you feel guilty, isolating you from your friends, invading the privacy of your phone to not only block Mike but also to turn your fucking location on so he could track you (you had found that out after that first trip back to the frat house to talk with Erwin. It had not been pretty).

It's hard to believe you put up with it for as long as you did. It was only five months, but that's still five months too long.

Mike is quiet for several minutes, and you sigh when you see that his eyes are closed once again. He makes a noise of displeasure when you use your foot to gently shake him, grumbling, "Sto-o-op."

"Nope. Gotta stay awake, Miche. Can't have you fallin' into a coma or something'."

"Nooo. No Miche."

"Yes, Miche," you laugh.

He scrunches his face up, shakes his head, but the motion seems to make him sick again.

When he finishes gagging into the toilet, he lets out a deep, "Gu-uuh," then sniffs. "No Miche. Jus' she—she—...Jus' her."

You can figure out the rest, but you can't decide if you want to smile or cry. Only you can call him that. Well, you and his mom. You miss her. And his dad. And Scout. You hope to see them again.

"Okay. Just Mike then."

He hums in confirmation then shakes his hand in the tub so that you'll douse it once again.

"You're a needy drunk, you know that?"

Mike doesn't respond to that, just takes a few deep breaths as his eyes close yet again.

"Sleep now," he mumbles.

"No, no sleep now."

"Sleep now."

"Oh my fucking god."

His mouth drops open a little, and the first thing you think to do is splash him in the face with the cup of water.

He spits and splutters but doesn't shift much, still wrapped around the toilet. You try not to look inside when you stand and reach to flush what's already gathered, trying to shield some of Mike's face from any flying droplets. Then you wash your hands and sit back down. You figure you'll be here for at least another couple of hours. The sun will be coming up soon. Thank god it's a Saturday.

Both Erwin and Nile knock on the door for an update, and you yell that you're okay. Mike isn't throwing up as often, and when he does, nothing is coming up anymore. He's gonna be in a world of pain when he returns to his normal self.

So fucking stupid. He's so fucking stupid.

He mutters nonsense on and off. Sometimes you can translate what he's trying to say, but other times not so much.

"President… dumb boyyy."

"Hy-poc-risy an' jealous… Hypocrite… I…"

"Hand… wanna hold…" but when you grab it, he just gurgles, "Waterrr."

There's really no pleasing him.

"Why-y-y… dick… Erwin."

"Volcano books… n' space jam… come an' sam… an'... to the jam."

You laugh too loudly, and Mike cringes at the noise, but the corner of his mouth still lifts. You don't think he knows what he's doing or saying yet—isn't downloading any new memories—it doesn't matter because you will remember this for the both of you.

"You're fucking ridiculous."

Mike pushes himself back from the toilet to sit against the wall, hissing and clumsily rubbing his chest. His shirt is wet and disgusting, and he must know on some level because he says, "Shower," and starts pulling himself over the tub.

"Jesus Christ, Mike."

He's too tall, dangling an arm and a leg over the side and sinking lower.

"Water, pleeeease."

He apparently isn't aware of the faucet that is still on. Whoever has to pay these bills… You feel sorry for them.

"No, dude. I am not letting you drown."

Mike fucking giggles, "Lifeguard," then tries to take his shirt off. He doesn't have the motor skills to handle buttons and looks to be confused by them anyway, so his next solution is to just rip the material down the middle.

"Yeah, okay, I guess that works."

The showerhead is turned on, and you sit on the edge of the tub again, shivering when the cool spray blows toward you while keeping an eye on Mike. Reaching over, you turn the temperature up a little, knowing that the alcohol has dropped his body temperature some. You're almost tempted to slide under the water with him, but there's no room, and you're not about to just make yourself comfortable on top of him.

So, you just sit and stare and think about how tired you are. Physically and mentally and spiritually tired. You just need some time to not exist—just a few days. It feels like this semester has been nothing but drama so far, and it is exhausting. Maybe that's why Mike did this to himself. Maybe he just needed to not exist.

He starts to sit up a little in the tub, but his hand falters and sends him sliding back down. "Fuck."

Not caring about getting wet at this point, you simply stand up between his spread legs, the shower drenching you immediately, and grab his hands to tug him upright.

"ευχαριστώ."

"Come again?"

"Means thanks," he mumbles, slumping forward.

You think of his family again, how he and his mother had just fallen into Greek as soon as you'd stepped into the house, leaving you surprised and impressed and warm in several different ways.

Squatting, you tilt your head to catch his half-lidded gaze.

"You back with me yet?" It's been nearly four hours—Fuck, why is there music playing still—but he might need more time.

"Dunno."

"Can you tell who I am?"

Mike does his best to roll his eyes. "'m drunk, not a amnes—amnesic—"

"Amnesiac," you supply with a smirk. Smartass.

"That," he nods, pointing at you with a finger gun.

He can actually understand you now, so that's good, don't have to worry about him dying anymore since he's making progress.

Opening his mouth, Mike catches some water in it, swishes and spits. You expect him to tell you that you can leave. He can take care of himself, doesn't want to see you, all manner of hurtful things he has every reason to feel.

Instead, he blinks at you, extends his arms, and makes grabby hands.

"Can I help you?"

He doesn't say anything, just keeps reaching for you. He could grab you without issue. His fingers are already brushing your knees, but he either doesn't notice or wants to wait for you.

"Mike, I can't get any closer," you laugh.

Switching tactics, he pats his chest.

"Oh, no. I am but about to put myself in the line of vom just 'cause you wanna cuddle or some shit."

Truthfully, you would also like to cuddle, to feel Mike's body against yours again, trace your fingers over his skin and listen to his heartbeat, but…

Not like this.

"Please. No more vom. Promise."

"I don't think you're in a state to make promises like that."

He says your name followed by one more, "Please," and you give in, letting out a long breath and grunting as you find a way to lay between his legs with your head on the lower part of his sternum. You're curled a little awkwardly, one foot up against the ceramic while the other is curled beneath you. It is not by any means a comfortable position, but it's what Mike wants.

A few months ago, laying like this would inevitably lead to other things. Talking and joking would lead to giggling, maybe some well aimed prods to your ribs. You would bite in retaliation, his shoulder or, if the angle was right, his nipple, until he pulled you up further to sit in his lap, hot mouth finding yours, and so on and so forth.

This is different on every possible level. Neither of you are speaking. Your hands are unmoving on each other's bodies. There's no heat save for the water that's pouring down on both of you, plastering your silky costume to your skin.

Still, it's enough to lull you into a drowsy state, the ache in your eyes urging you to close them, but as soon as you do, Mike speaks.

"'m mad at you."

Your stomach drops. His words don't come as a surprise, but they still sting.

"I know," you sigh. "I'm mad at me too."

Your head moves with his chest, a gentle up and down that could—and has—put you to sleep.

"Still love you."

You bite your lip, fingers lightly digging into Mike's warm skin as you remind yourself that he's drunk, and he hates you, and he probably won't remember any of this when he wakes up anyway. There's no reason to get emotional over it. No reason.

"I love you too, Miche."

Silence closes in around you once more. You drift in and out for about half an hour until a loud knock jolts you awake.

You scramble off of Mike and hop to the door, leaving puddles and drops behind you. Both Nile and Erwin look panicked in the hallway, the shorter man nearly shouting, "Is he fucking dead in there?"

"Not deeeead," Mike calls from the tub.

Erwin peers over your shoulder at him, then at you, then takes on a disappointed expression. "You didn't. Come on, he's so drunk."

"What do you—" You frown as you piece together his implication, then squawk and shove Erwin with two wet hands. "I didn't fuck him, you perv! What is wrong with you?"

He chuckles and bats away your hands. "I never know with you two! You can't blame me!"

"You're disgusting."

"Look who's talking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" Erwin raises his eyebrows. "Less bunny and more… I don't know, ghoul?"

God, you had completely forgotten about the face paint.

"Shut up, yours isn't much better." His black and white paint is smeared in several places like someone ran their fingers through it. The collar of his shirt is stained, and his hair is tousled. You can't tell if it's the result of getting frisky or falling asleep.

"Stop flirting in front of meeee," Mike whines loudly, sitting up and pushing the shower knob a little too hard to shut the water off.

"We're not—" You and Erwin start at the same time.

Nile interrupts with a drawn out, unconvinced little note and informs both of you, "You guys get a little flirty sometimes. Sorry to break it to you."

You frown at the blond and he frowns back, then you both frown at Nile who shrugs. "I'm just saying. There's a reason people are thinking things."

It's not important, and you'd rather not dwell on it because you know the truth, and Erwin knows the truth, and Mike will if he'll just fucking listen, but he's fucked up right now, so that's a problem for another day.

"Whatever, we'll work on it, but for now…" You watch as Mike tries and fails to pull himself out of the tub.

"He looks like the girl from The Ring," Erwin snorts.

"Yeah, if she was giant. And, a guy," you add.

Wet hair is hanging over Mike's eyes, still sopping wet and dripping. He's all awkward angles as he hoists himself up, kicking a leg over and swearing.

"We should probably help him," Nile says, fighting his own smile.

"Probably."

Between the three of you, you manage to transport Mike from the bathroom to Erwin's room on the third fucking floor which is no easy feat. Nile waits for his friend to be dumped onto the mattress, then announces that Hitch is waiting for him to come back to bed. You don't know how long that will last, but your friend falling into the same frat boy trap you did is mildly hilarious.

It leaves you and Erwin to make Mike comfortable. You wrap his head in a towel you found poking out of the hamper, murmur, "Hope this doesn't have anything gross on it," to which Erwin responds with an unamused look.

You peel the ruined, tacky shirt from Mike’s shoulders and toss it into a corner but you let Erwin take care of the rest. You've seen everything Mike has to offer, but that doesn't stop you from feeling weird about seeing his dick when he can't really stop you. So, like Mike did last year when he spilled water on your shirt, you turn your back to allow him some privacy.

There's some rustling and grunting, but when Erwin tells you it's safe, you look to find Mike in a pair of gym shorts, hair still wrapped, looking more disgruntled than you've ever seen him.

"'m still wet."

"You sure are, big guy," Erwin agrees, slowly guiding him to lay down on his side and explaining, "You need to sleep like this, alright? Otherwise you might choke and die."

"Erwin!" You throw your hands up in the air. "Why would you even—?"

"Know how it works, dumb… butt."

"Oh, dumb butt. That's a good one," Erwin grins. "Very creative."

"Don't panotrize me!"

You have to cover your mouth to keep from cackling, and Erwin shakes his head, corrects, "Patronize, Mike. Patronize."

"That's what I said!"

It takes a while to get him relaxed again. Apparently, Mike's favorite thing to do while drunk is run his mouth to Erwin, so while he's busy dealing with that, you raid Erwin's closet for a shirt and then his dresser for boxers. Once you are mostly dry, you snatch the towel from Mike's hair to wipe your face and toss it away, then step up onto the bed near the pillows, urging Mike to shift so that you can sit against the headboard.

He immediately rests his stubbled cheek on one of your thighs, then wraps both arms around the other, his fingers melting into the fat just below your ass as he grunts, "Mine."

"All yours, buddy," Erwin assures with a grin before glancing at you. "I'm gonna pass out in the chair—" he gestures to the one in the corner of the room, "—if you need me for anything, just wake me up, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." Then, "Hey, Erwin?" He hums in response. "Don't tell him about tonight, like, me staying with him."

"Why?"

"I don't want him to stress out about what he may have said or done. 'Cause I know he will."

"Whatever you say," Erwin shrugs, collapsing in the chair without even changing or washing his face. All three of you are gonna look like characters from a horror movie whenever you wake up, and the thought makes you smirk as you card your fingers through Mike's damp hair.

It's getting longer. He could probably put it up if he wanted to. He's been letting his beard grow a little too. You aren't sure if it's laziness or just trying a slightly different look, but whatever the case, it's hot.

He keeps your leg clutched tightly to him like some kind of stuffed animal until he drifts off to sleep. It's nearing five, and you know you probably won't get any quality rest while you're here, so you figure you'll just doze for a while until you can safely extract yourself from Mike's grip. He probably won't appreciate waking up like this anyway. No matter what he's said to you and Erwin—declarations and staked claims—it'll all be worthless in just a few hours.

A symphony of snores plays through the room, Erwin splayed out in his chair like he's passed out in a cheap Vegas hotel while Mike drools on your thigh, and if it was anyone else, you'd be disgusted and shove him away, but since it’s Mike, it’s weirdly endearing. He can slobber on you all he wants, it won’t bother you in the slightest.

Eventually, the sun shining through the window becomes too bright for you to even fall into a light sleep, so just as you planned, you gently untangle yourself from Mike, pausing when he grunts and frowns, but when he doesn’t stir any more than that, you manage to slip out of the bed.

Grabbing your phone and costume, still a little wet and cold because of it, you leave as quietly as you can. Your shoes are still in the downstairs bathroom along with Mike’s shirt, and you have a legitimate mental debate over whether you really should just toss it, but as much as you hate it, you decide against it.

You have to step over several bodies to get to the front door, more than usual which is concerning since the punch Eren spiked was thrown out (or really, thrown all over him), but you’re able to make it out without tripping.

The drive to your dorm feels too long, sun beaming right into your itchy eyes the entire way. You nearly cry in relief when you finally fall onto your mattress, already well aware that most, if not all, of your day will be spent under the covers. You’re more than fine with it, allowing yourself to just not exist for several hours exactly how you wanted to.

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #tw manipulation #tw vomit

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dysfunctionalcrab · 4 years ago

Text

breaking point

pairing: karl jacobs x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

description: karl can’t get over your death.

warnings: pure angst. readers death, description of illness, description of a breakdown.

note: sorry about this fluff lovers. honestly i feel like if karl was getting over somebodys death he would just have breakdowns :/

-> also this is literally just a way to improve my angst writing.

one month.

a month without waking up every morning and seeing your face. a month without hearing your voice.

of course he knew, he knew you were sick. it would be selfish of him to tell himself that you weren’t. that you weren’t in pain every single day. he watched you get up from bed in the middle of the night, rushing to the bathroom and empty out last nights dinner into the toilet. he sat beside you, rubbing your back and telling you everything was going to be okay. you tried your best to believe it, so desperately did you want to believe him

but even karl himself couldn’t believe it.

day by day he watched you get worse, the hope that glistened in your eyes slowly started to fade away. you became pale, the bags under your eyes were becoming more prominent. you were just so tired

you were tired of everyone telling you were going to be fine, because you obviously weren’t. you knew that eventually you’d have to say goodbye to everyone, and leave everybody you loved.

it got to a point that you couldn’t even open up a jam jar. your frail arms couldn’t twist the lid no matter how hard you tried.

you felt like a burden to everyone, you weren’t that cheerful person you were once before. you felt more like a villain. someone who was ruining everybody’s day by just being present.

you weren’t scared of dying anymore, you were scared of living and continuing to suffer the way you were.

so, when you laid in the hospital bed, surrounded by all your loved ones. you felt tranquility. it made you happy that you knew none of these people would have to worry about you anymore.

your vision was becoming blurry, you could barely recognise anybody’s faces anymore. you didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want everybody’s last memory of you to be an image of your tear stained face. instead you smiled at them, karl held your left hand and your mother held your right, you squeezed their hands as tightly as you could, telling them how much you loved them.

your grip eventually loosed, as you took your last breath. you were unresponsive, and everybody was looking at nothing but the whites of your eyes.

your funeral hit him even harder.

karl felt so empty inside. all the happiness was drained out of him. he kept trying to tell himself this wasn’t real, and you weren’t gone. but how could he when he was standing right in front of your grave?

he watched your coffin lower down. all attention turned to your mother. as the coffin sunk deeper into the ground, she collapsed onto the floor, an agonising scream erupting from her. people ran to pull her away, but she refused to let them bury you.

karl walked away. he didn’t want to watch this. this isn’t what you would’ve wanted. you wanted nothing but everybody to be happy

but he couldn’t be, not when he was constantly reminded of you every single. those memories were now making him sad. he would drive past target just to be reminded of your late night trips. when he would see your favourite candy he would be reminded of your awful sweet tooth you constantly complained about, and how he would scold you for eating too many.

“but they taste so good!” you would defend yourself. your voice rang in his ears.

in the first two weeks he would cry himself to sleep every day. his pillow was always soaking from the waterfall of tears. he would grab another pillow from the living room, and spray it in your favourite perfume, and would cuddle it, pretending he was cuddling you, all while taking in your scent.

one night, he jolted awake with a gasp. his forehead was covered in beads of sweat and his breath was shaky and uneven. it was a nightmare. they had become much more frequent since your death.

karl reached his arm out to the pillow beside him, looking for some comfort and warmth.

but he forgot you weren’t there anymore.

he wished that you would just materialise from beneath his fingers and hold his hand. he wished to have you here and have you run your hands through his hair and shush him back to sleep.

karl swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to close his eyes and fall back asleep.

he didn’t like socialising with others now.

yes, he loved his friends, he wouldn’t give them up for the world. he felt so helpless when they saw him. they all gave him this identical look filled with pity. whenever they saw him and they’d always ask him ‘how are you feeling today?’

he was so sick of that question.

when he logged on discord with the boys, they treated him differently, like he was glass, and was about to shatter any moment.

he hated feeling so weak.

in the third week, his family suggested talking to your family. maybe they both could slowly heal by talking about the positive aspects of your life.

he despised the idea at first, but after coming round to your old house, sitting down and talking to your parents. he found himself smiling for the first time in ages, as he ran his fingers over a baby picture of you.

visits to your parents became much more regular, they were much closer. karl felt a sense of pride, because he knew it’s what you would’ve wanted.

four weeks. one month. time was passing by slowly but thankfully it was giving him time to grieve, and time to reflect. he felt like the hole in his heart was very slowly starting to repair itself

music was playing from his phone on spotify, karl was boiling a pot of water for his pasta. when it was hot enough, he threw in his pasta and let it cook. karl sat down and started scrolling through instagram, the music still playing.

he lightly chuckled at a funny meme he read. he went to send it to alex.

the grin on his face disappeared when he realised his finger was hovering over your username.

he wished he could send it to you. his mind started drifting to you all over again.

when the pasta was finally done. karl felt his stomach rumble and he was glad he would finally get some food in his system. he prepared the table, and poured a glass of juice for himself too.

the music changed to one of his favourite songs, he started singing along to it, his body swaying slightly as he turned around with the pot to pour it onto the plate, ready to eat it. only then did he realise his mistake.

he set out two plates.

two forks.

two glasses.

one for him.

and for you

karl gnawed at his lip. he stared at the second set of cutlery like it was an intruder. his lips started to tremble, and without realising, he dropped the pot.

the loud clash against the tile floor brought him back to reality. immediately, he bent down to pick up his mess, but it was all pushing him over the edge.

this was his breaking point

he angrily threw the pot back onto the floor, while the most gut-wrenching scream left his body.

he rested against the door of the oven, his head leaned uncomfortably against the handle. sobs ripped from his throat. his voice was starting to feel scratchy. karl rocked back and forth, his head banging the handle each time, causing his head to get dizzier and dizzier until he almost felt nauseous.

his hands were tugging at his hair as he buried his face into his knees. he knew he had lost control of himself. another wave of tears emerged.

he tried to calm himself, he tried to steady himself. karl was mumbling out loud as his body was quaking, but every few seconds it would be interrupted by a few guttural sounds. sounds of pain and anguish melded together.

“why would you leave me?” he cried, his voice breaking.

karl wasn’t healing like he thought.

you were the other half that made him whole.

and you were mercilessly ripped away from him

he just didn’t know how he could go on living without you.

———

masterlist

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #karl jacobs #karl jacobs imagine #karl jacobs x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines #karl jacobs imagines #angst #karl jacobs angst

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blitheringmcgonagall · 4 years ago

Text

My Gallant Lad - Part I

So I got a wonderful anon today telling me this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fic, it’s part of my canon marauders fic We Can Be Heroes. But, because it works as a stand alone, I’ll be posting it in 4 parts here. I hope you enjoy it (Lily is very BAMF here but tbh so is James). Set during First Wizarding War...

James slammed the palms of his hands down on Dumbledore’s desk.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he said, his eyes a hot mess of emotions.

“Get your oafish hands off my desk, now!” Lily said, recovering from the initial shock almost immediately with a flash of anger.

“Your desk?” James said, taking his hands off the desk, nevertheless.

“I’m using it now, yes, I need to get these mission forms finished and signed before bringing them for filing in the Room of Requirement,” Lily said, looking back at James angrily. “What the hell is your problem, Potter?”

“My problem?” James was furious. “I’ll tell you what my problem is, Evans. My problem is that my bloody wife thought it sensible to visit Walburga Black, the same woman who thinks nothing of throwing a Crucio at her children, whose husband tried to kill Sirius, who detests muggleborns, who tried to – oh fucking hell, Lily! What the absolute, ever-living fuck possessed you?”

She had never seen him so angry. She folded her arms defensively and glared back, wondering how he had found out.

“I’ll tell you exactly what possessed me, Potter,” she said coldly. “My problem is my dickhead of a husband who nearly got himself thrown into Azkaban by the Blacks, but then thought it sensible to attend a Black family funeral, and to top it all, decided to call over to chat to Orion’s heir, as you do! Do I need to explain it further? What exactly was I meant to do? Let you read the letter and let you waltz back in there so that bitch could finish you off, once and for all?”

She was standing up now, and he couldn’t quite understand how someone so slender and uncommonly kind could look so intimidating and fierce within the space of a few seconds.

“That letter was addressed to me, damn it!” James said, his voice rising with irritation. “You had no right opening my post!”

“I don’t care!” Lily said, looking more agitated and feeling guilty. “If you think I would have let you just go there, you’re even more stupid than I gave you credit for!”

“You’re a muggleborn, Evans, fucking bloody fucking…” James’ words ran out as he waved his arm about with rage. “You could have been killed, do you understand me? Killed, damn it!”

“Yes, well, so could you, at least I have more sense! Remus and I knew what we were doing!” Lily shot back, feeling angrier by the second.

“You clearly didn’t, Evans! What you did was grossly irresponsible and wilfully sly! I don’t care what you say, you could have been killed, Evans, for fuck’s sake! When I see Moony, I’m going to kill him!”

James made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and slammed his fist against the wall. Damn it, he was furious and livid and scared out of his wits and fucking sick of this shit.

“Remus didn’t have any choice, I told him I was going, and he decided to come with me, surely a safer bet! Don’t you dare drag Remus into this!” Lily said.

“Don’t you dare, ever, ever go behind my back like that again, ever, do you hear me?” he shouted.

“You can scream all you like, Potter, you don’t get to tell me what to do!” Lily said, her voice rising angrily.

“Don’t you dare act like you’re the innocent one in this Evans, for fuck’s sake!” James said.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me, Potter!” Lily said. “Get out!”

Her voice was starting to wobble which made her even madder.

“You know what? Fine!” James said, gripping his wand tightly and watching as furious sparks flew from his wand tip. “If you want to tell yourself that this is my fault, if you want to lie to yourself so you can – ugh! Lily, don’t you dare defend this!”

“I’m not listening to your ranting any longer!” Lily said, slamming the book shut and flinging her quills and parchment into her well-worn bag.

She marched past him, livid and upset and boiling with rage. They hadn’t spoken since. James had slept at his parents’ house for a while and now, with Sirius and Remus gone, James had taken to sleeping in his friends’ bedroom. He didn’t like leaving her with only Wormy for protection. They avoided each other at mealtimes. Peter had cringed and disappeared into the relative safety of his bedroom. There was simply no way he could win if he took sides. They were both still furious.

***

“Looks like you swapped into an easy shift,” said Edgar Bones, loosening his collar and placing his cloak over his arm. “Nothing much happening, no handover.”

“Thanks,” said James curtly.

“Lily, James,” Edgar said, tipping his hat at them, sensing something was amiss but too polite to bring it up in conversation.

“Edgar,” said James.

“Bye, Edgar, see you soon,” Lily said, smiling at him half-heartedly.

“If it stays this quiet, I’m going to try going for a kip,” said Frank Longbottom, looking at the fireplace one last time and throwing a blanket over himself.

James nodded absent-mindedly, his left hand restlessly tapping on his thigh, shooting Lily fleeting glances when he knew she wasn’t watching. He hated whenever they fought, and this had been their worst row ever. The night stayed quiet, Lily dozed off on the armchair and James watched her. He was worried about her too, she looked pale and she seemed off her food for weeks now. It added to the leaden feeling of guilt he was carrying. It was his fault. He was right, he was damned well right, and he had nothing to apologise for, but he probably would. Because he knew what he was getting himself into when he married her, didn’t he? And wouldn’t he have done the exact same thing in her place, he told himself for the umpteenth time? He transfigured his jumper into a warm, thick blanket and placed it over her gently, doubling it up and kissing the top of her head tenderly. He watched the magical fairy lights on the tree twinkling merrily. He couldn’t have felt less Christmassy. He fell asleep eventually, having transfigured the rug into a scratchy blanket.

He was woken up by a loud shout emanating from the fireplace.

“You better get your sorry arses down here immediately! I’ve just intercepted intel that a couple of Death Eaters are planning an attack on a muggle school bus in the vicinity of Newcastleton!” Dedalus Diggle’s voice crackled.

“Where’s that?” said James, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Border between England and Scotland. Dumbledore has left a special portkey in his room that means you should be able to get anywhere, immediately. Hurry! There’s nobody else around.”

“Great!” grumbled Frank, sitting up reluctantly, but shoving his feet into his shoes without hesitation. “Typical Dumbledore, never around when you need him!”

“Get some water and rations and let’s go,” Lily said, standing up and sitting back down rather suddenly.

“Alright, Evans?” James said, with a concerned frown.

“Fine, just feeling a bit sick, probably need to eat something,” she said.

“Maybe you should stay behind?” James said.

“No!” Lily said, forcing herself to stand. “It’s fine. We can’t risk it. It’s children, James!”

James nodded immediately. He wanted to apologise, but not in front of Frank.

“Dedalus, can you try and contact a few of the others in case anyone is available to join us? We’ll be with you in a jiffy,” he said.

“No can do, I’ve also had word of another attack planned in Wales, I’m trying to get in touch with Moody as we speak!”

“Got it,” said Lily, looking at Frank and James. “Don’t worry, we’re on it!”

***

“This place gives me the creeps,” said James, peering up at the tall trees.

The air felt thick and heavy, the branches seemed to vie with each other to block out the sunlight, suffocating. Thick moss, grey and faded, clung to everything, dried twigs and branches snapped loudly beneath their feet, disturbing the numerous birds whose harsh cries filled the air, as though spying on them, he thought, watching their acrobatic flight.

“Jackdaws,” he said quietly, moving closer to Lily.

Lily gave him a quizzical look.

“That’s their call - a short, loud, ‘kya’ sound, and they have distinctive, beady white eyes,” he added.

“Is there anything you guys don’t know?” grumbled Frank, shooting James a friendly grin.

“Nope,” James grinned back.

He moved closer to Lily, protectively, feeling a threat in the fabric of the forest, ancient memories, secret and forbidding. He had transfigured the portkey into a muggle leather bracelet, insignificant and worthless to any potential Death-Eaters, which he had placed on Lily’s wrist despite her protestations.

“They must be here somewhere,” Frank whispered, holding his wand aloft. “If we just keep walking, we’ll increase the chances of them seeing us.”

“Let’s split up, I’ll hide in there,” Lily said, pointing to a decrepit, large pine, whose gnarly trunk was rotting and held space for one person. “You two get on higher ground. We can all see the road from here. If you spot anything dangerous, send your signal.”

James’ was an owl hooting, Lily’s was the snort of a frightened deer, Frank’s was the harsh screech of a magpie.

“Alright,” James said, turning to look at Lily, feeling awkward and unsure. “Take care, please.”

“You too,” Lily said, her face unreadable.

“I’m glad Alice isn’t on call today,” Frank whispered after a pause, as they moved on carefully. “We just found out she’s pregnant. Bit of a shock really. Took us ages to figure it out, despite her feeling nauseated for a couple of weeks, being off her food, feeling dizzy and tired, you name it!”

He looked excited and pleased.

“Frank!” said James. “Wow, that’s… that’s brave of you, and rather wonderful news.”

He didn’t know what to say.

He stopped short.

Took us ages to figure it out, despite her feeling nauseated for a couple of weeks, being off her food, feeling dizzy and tired, you name it!

The night of Sirius’ twentieth Birthday. They had both forgotten to cast a contraceptive charm. Could that explain…?

“Frank, I forgot something, I need to run back to Lily, go ahead!” James said.

“You okay?” Frank said, seeing James’ face turn grey.

But he was already gone.

***

“Lily!” James said, catching his breath.

“What is it?” Lily said, wand ready to shoot.

“Lily, have you done a pregnancy charm?”

“A what?”

“To see if you’re pregnant?”

“No, why?”

They stared at each other for a moment. Understanding dawned on her.

“James,” said Lily, her green eyes searching his anxiously.

“Let me,” James whispered, taking hold of his wife’s slender wrist and turning her palm upwards, he pointed his wand tip at her pulse point. “Gravidam!”

They both watched as James’ wand tip glowed green.

“Fuck,” he said hoarsely, staring at her.

“What does that mean, James?” Lily said.

“It means… it means you’re pregnant,” James said, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Fucking bloody fucking…”

Lily’s eyes were wide as his words sank in. As his reaction sank in. She turned away from him and swiped hastily at the tears that fell down her cheeks silently.

“We need to…” James said urgently. “Fucking Merlin… fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Lily’s voice broke as she spoke, her lower lip trembling. “I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean this to happen now, God I really didn’t mean this to… I understand if that’s how you feel, James, but I-“

“What?” James said, turning her around to face him and taking her face in his hands tenderly. “Lily, Merlin, I don’t mean –“

The screech of a magpie rent the air and they both jumped.

“Incarcerous!” numerous voices shouted, as thick ropes coiled themselves swiftly around them, James’ wand dropping to the floor.

“Expelliarmus!” a recognisable voice added, James’ wand flying through the air. “Where’s the other one’s wand?”

“Mulciber,” James said, the blood draining from his face.

“I said, where’s your wand, bitch?” Mulciber said, grabbing Lily by the throat.

“I dropped it earlier on,” Lily rasped, staring back at him defiantly. “I can’t find it.”

“Accio Lily Evans’ wand!” Mulciber ordered, pointing his wand at Lily.

Lily’s wand flew out of the thicket behind them. Mulciber leered at Lily.

“Grab hold of them and set anti-apparition wards around them! And get them to de Soulis Castle, now!” Mulciber said to the other Death-Eaters who surrounded them. “The Dark Lord will be very disappointed to find that it isn’t Sirius Black we have captured, just a useless blood-traitor and a vile mudblood. The information we received must have been incorrect.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mulciber!” James sprang forwards in fury.

“Quiet!” Mulciber said, coming right up in front of Lily and grabbing hold of her Jacket collar. “Or she gets hurt.”

James swallowed.

I tried to laugh about it Cover it all up with lies I tried to laugh about it Hiding the tears in my eyes 'Cause boys don't cry

***

The weathered remains of the castle loomed, malevolent, as they crossed the bridge over the moat. Fragments of a tower emerged, the holes in its walls reminiscent of a skull. While the forest around it was dry and parched, wilting and unseasonably warm, as they neared the castle gates mist descended on them. The inside of the castle felt damp and cold. Much colder. Mulciber’s breath condensed in front of him as he spoke, frost clung to the corners of the walls, there were no windows in the great hall.

He had seen this room before… where?

The heavy double doors leading into the main banqueting hall swung open, and four men entered, none of their faces were masked.

“Villiers, Wilkes, Rosier, Snape,” said Mulciber, with a cold laugh. “Your very closest allies, I believe? I failed to retrieve the disowned Black heir, but I found these.”

Villiers and Wilkes giggled. Silence descended as another figure entered the room, the five men bowing immediately. Muciber pushed James and Lily forcefully and they fell forwards onto their knees. James watched as Voldemort approached slowly, with a gleeful expression. He zoned in on Snape, Snape who was watching Lily with terror on his face, before carefully schooling it into neutral.

The room.

McGonagall’s grim tones echoed in his mind.

“So, a group of Death Eaters, who appear to have captured Lily Evans, in an unidentified location?”

Divination class. His vision. He had forseen this.

“Lily,” he said quietly, speaking through his teeth. “Do you trust me to get us out?”

He was sure Voldemort could hear his heart pounding.

“If you have an idea, I’m all in,” Lily murmured, watching Voldemort as he drew nearer.

“Leave it to me,” he whispered.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and locked eyes with Severus Snape.

“Fuck you, Severus Snape! You absolute bastard! Stay the fuck away from my wife, do you hear? Don’t you dare go near her, you fucking piece of shit! I despise you, Snivellus! You fucking coward! Bastard cursed Death Eater! Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” James screamed.

#My Gallant Lad #WCBH one shots #BAMF!Lily #BAMF!James #Lily rescues James #first wizarding war #angst and adventure #anti sneep #not for you if you like sneep #jily fic #canon Jily #marauders era

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javisjeanjacket · 4 years ago

Note

‘ if you get me sick, i swear to god… ’ w/ Javier pls 🥺🤲🏻 ilysm hailee 🥺

Julia!! My star! ILY2!! I hope this will help you feel a lil better!!

“If you get me sick, I swear to God.”

~~~~~~~~

An Hour - (AFAB reader x javier peña)

Warnings: this is only afab because of one line of dialogue. other than that, it should be gender neutral. there’s also (1) curse word. a boatload of fluffy javi:))

The front door clicked open and then closed again. Soft footfalls sounded over the apartment entry way.

You did not stir from your medication-induced sleep on the couch, and Javier had to watch for the rise and fall of your back to make sure you nothing had happened to you in his absence.

Gingerly, he crept in your direction and, after taking off his jean jacket and throwing it on the arm chair across from him, he sat on the coffee table. You slept facing the couch, the light from the city and the Colombian sun not doing your piercing headache any favors. He reached a tender hand out to your back and rubbed up and down it gently. He whispered your name and when you still did not awaken, he said it a touch louder.

A soft moan rose from your throat, but your eyes and lips remained shut.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Javi whispered.

You moaned again and wriggled closer to the couch back, his intrusion painful. All of your limbs felt like lead and your tongue felt dry in your scratchy throat. Your vision swam as you reluctantly opened your eyes and turned your head, but then softened and focused as you saw him. Javi had come home.

"Javi." You smiled weakly and reached a hand out towards him. As soon as you moved, the heaviness in your arms betrayed you and you had to drop your hand back to the couch.

Javier moved from the coffee table to sit in the dip of your knees. "Hi, honey." He whispered hoarsely, emotion welled in his throat as he thought about how weak you were and how you had used the little strength you had to reach for him. He pushed strands of hair away from where they were plastered to your face. "Did you eat enough while I was gone?"

You grumbled softly and let your eyes fall shut again, the effort of conversation too heavy to carry in your current state.

"I'll take that as a no." He said to himself, looking over the now cold bowl of soup and cup of tea he had fixed for you before he left for work. Javi sighed and scooped up the dishes to take back to the kitchen. His eyes kept a careful watch on you as he re-heated the soup and set the kettle to boil once more. He brought the now hot, but not too hot, dishes back to you and swallowed thickly as he noticed the sweat beading on your forehead. He sat the bowls on the table beside him.

"Shit." He cursed. Urgency overwhelmed him and he said your name tersely. "Wake up, hermosa. Sit up for me." One of his large palms shook your shoulder gently.

You whined as you tried to fall back asleep, "...M'tired."

"I know, but you have to eat something. Here," He said and moved again to sit on the couch. He moved his arms under your side and the bend in your knees and he turned you gently so that you sat, or slept rather, upright. Wrapping a kitchen towel around the warm bowl of soup, he handed it to you. "Eat, honey."

Groggy and dizzy and unable to process anything except the warmth in your hands and the warmth of Javi, you did as he asked. You drank down the warm liquid slowly and thankfully. You could only stomach about half of the bowl, but Javier was satisfied none the less.

"Good girl. I'm gonna get your medicine." He said as he stood. He was trying not to look worried, but the small crease in between his eyebrows and the twitch in his lips told you different. He pressed a tight-lipped kiss to your clammy forehead and then made his way to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

You laid back down and pulled the crocheted blanket tighter around your chin.

Javi returned shortly and shook two pills out of the plastic medication bottle. He handed them to you along with the half-drunk glass of water on the side table.

You swallowed them both then whispered,"Javi..." Your eyes began to flutter closed again.

"Hmm?" He responded, cocking an eyebrow.

"Lay with me."

Javi took in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. But if you get me sick, I swear to God." He shook his head as he began to wriggle off his boots.

As tenderly as he could, Javi laid down behind you, moving an arm under your neck and the other over your torso. He could tell as he touched you just how weak you were and it panged his heart to feel the fragility in your form. "I can only nap for an hour, I gotta get back to work at some point." He yawned.

You hummed contentedly and pulled his hand on your torso up to your heart, intertwining your fingers with his. "An hour." You repeated before falling to sleep once more.

JAVI TAGLIST: @mndalorians @anetteaneta @hoodedbirdie @insideafictionaluniverse @din-damn-djarin @artsymaddie @jedi-mando @edencherries @buckysalefty @happy-beeeps @triggerhappyflygirl @oloreaa @alwritey-aphrodite @m-1234 @littlebopper96 @mando-writings @thelastskywalker @okilover02 @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @mrschiltoncat

GENERAL TAGLIST: @softly-sad @over300books @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @ntlmundy @myheart-pedro @intu-witch-tion

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x y/n #hai writes #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x y/n

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omnivorousshipper · 3 years ago

Note

Hi friend!! I hope your Friday has been good so far!

Here is a fluffy and domestic request: Luke making tea for Deckard one morning (with maybe a bonus of kid(s) 👀)

(also just as I am writing this ask my kettle finished boiling, perfect timing!)

Awwww! Yes! I love fluffy and domestic requests! I always need to practice my angst, but fluff is where it is! Thank you friend!

~~~

Luke grabbed the tea kettle and filled it with water while letting out a loud yawn. Very faint sunlight was streaming into the kitchen window and reflecting off the metal of the kettle. Blinking, Luke had to wonder how Deckard had gotten sick yet again in LA’s perfect weather. He had kept Luke up almost all night, coughing and whining at how much his throat hurt.

Of course, Luke knew Deckard didn’t mean to whimper and whine at the discomfort, but when he was sick, he usually got a lot more needy than Luke was used it. It was actually kind of adorable to see a badass like Deckard curl up to him with a red nose and beg him for a nice, hot cup of tea.

Smiling, Luke set the kettle on the stove and started to prep the rest of the tea. Honey, sugar, and Deckard’s favorite mug that Sam had gotten him with large red letters that spelled “World’s most badass mom”.

Deckard hadn’t found that quite as funny as he and Sam had.

But even if Luke had kept calling him “mom” for several weeks afterwards, Deckard loved the large mug and made sure to use it all the time when Sam saw him.

“Why are you up?”

Turning around, Luke saw Sam sliding into one of the stools at the kitchen island and giving him a curious look.

“I think the better question is what ten-year-old is up at this hour.” Luke smiled at his daughter. Usually, Sam never skipped the chance of sleeping in.

“I heard Deck coughing.” Sam told him, concern obvious. “Is he ok?”

“He’s fine, sweetheart. Just a bit sick.”

“What kind of sick?”

“Just a cold.” Luke reassured her. “I’m making him tea right now. Hopefully that’ll help and he’ll be right as rain later today.”

“Can I help?”

“Sure.”

When the kettle whistled, Luke poured the water and allowed Sam to add the tea bag and everything else. He laughed when she wrinkled her nose at the amount of sugar he told her to add. Even she couldn’t stand something that sugary, but that’s what the Shaws preferred.

“Want to help me give it to him?” Luke smiled at Sam, who was nodding so hard, he feared she was going to hurt her neck.

Proudly, Sam walked with the mug in her hands down the hallway and into his and Deckard’s room. The only thing on the bed was a mountain of blankets that Luke had to dig through to even find Deckard’s face. When he did, he was met with a pout and tired eyes.

“Come on out, princess. Sam has something for you.”

Helping Deckard untangle himself from the blankets and sit up, Luke wrapped an arm around Deckard as Sam handed him the mug.

“I hope you feel better, Deck.”

“Thank you, love.” Deckard smiled but his voice was scratchy and he spoke barely over a whisper.

As he took a sip of the tea, Luke could pinpoint the exact moment the drink took effect: Deckard’s body relaxed into his and a large smile broke over his face.

“Good?” Luke chuckled and shared a wink with Sam, who giggled.

“Amazing.” Deckard purred and rested his head on Luke’s shoulder. “How did I get so lucky to find you two?”

“Just pure chance, princess.” Luke kissed his temple

~~~

I hope you enjoyed friend!

#shobbs #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #sam hobbs #hobbs and shaw #asks #omni writes #omni answers

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dae-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Little Housewife

Yandere!Dabi x reader, 5k

Warning: smut, porn with very little plot, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, praise kink, dirty talk, dubious consens, yandere behavior, stockholm syndrom, culilingus, somnophillia mentioned,

A/N: First time writing smut, English isn’t my first language, not beta read, also haven’t written anything that long in a long time

This was inspired by @honeyyandere respons to my dabi houswife thirst thanks darling for reminding me of my pregnancy kink

She sighed happily as she looked out of the kitchen window, her hand on her slowly swelling belly. This little house in the suburbs was so different to the small flat Dabi had originally taken her two years ago. Even though it still tugged on her heartstrings thinking about that place, after all it was the place she fell in love with the handsome man. Or actually wasn’t it before that, in that alleyway? She giggled slightly, it didn’t matter much now, did it? What did anything matter outside this house and her young family? She should be grateful for all that her love has done for her.

No one else would have loved her enough to care about her anyways. The thought made her lips turn downward for a second before she focused on the stew on the stove instead. It has been boiling for a little while now and will be done soon. Hopefully Dabi would be home in time today. She had been seeing him even less since they moved, only really when he would crawl in bed with her at night. Waking her up with his movements or at latest when his fingers or mouth would wander to her private place to reward her for dinner. More than once she woke up with him already inside her, hovering above her and growling about some stupid idiot next to her ear. The memory made her shiver and let a warmth rush down her body.

She pushed herself away from the counter before she got any stupid ideas. Dabi didn’t like it when she touched what was his. She moved through the hallway on the way to the backyard wanting to get some more herbs for the stew. Y/N frowned when she saw the rug, it had laid there since before they moved in but recently during cleaning she had discovered a big spot underneath it, similar in color to the small ones that stained the side of their bed. The previous owners really had been careless with the place. Even Dabi seemed displeased with them, judging from the face he made when she complained about the ones on their bed. And that meant a lot from how his flat originally looked like. She moved through the hallway out into the garden, the grass soft under her feet. A wind blew through the green oasis tugging at the skirt of her dress and she only remembered at the last moment to hold it down so her neighbors wouldn’t be able to see her privates, not bothering to wear underwear all by herself.

Humming slightly to herself she wandered to the small herbal plants, at least this part of the estate had been taking care of. She took some herbs and then wandered back to the house. Lost in her thoughts about little baby onesies and which of the many rooms of the second floor should be their babies home. Maybe the one right at the corner of the stairs, would be fitting for the first born. The rest would be easily filled with their siblings.

She went through the backdoor, fixing something that wasn’t in the right place in the hallway so everything was tidy. This was the thing she could do to pay back for the way Dabi cared for her, she wasn’t easy to love she had realized that now. A clean house, good meals and her womb to bear his child. Y/N entered the kitchen, sprinkled the herbs before stirring once again.

She nearly screamed when an arm wrapped around her midriff, but the deep voice that growled into her ear put her at ease at once. “Doll”, Dabi pulled her back into his chest. Giddily Y/N turned in his embrace and nearly jumped in his arms, her heart bursting seeing him. He smiled down at: “Easy there, don’t want to hurt you two” he captured her lips with his and she melted into him. Their lips moved against each other, his hands moved to her lower back sending a small shiver through her. Y/N’s hands moved into the man's hair pulling him closer trying to close the gap between their bodies. A small whimper left her when he pulled away, making her blush and him chuckle. The azur eyes moved from her face to the stove behind her. “This smells good, what is it?” “Stew! It’s nearly done. Take a seat”, she excitedly pointed to the dinner table she had set like every night, but this time he was here! “Alright”, he grinned at her state. She missed the warmth of his arm when he let go but she plated the food fast, turned the stove off and carried it to the table where he had taken place. “Careful, doll”, a look of worry crossed his face making her feel warm before she put the plates down. Taking a seat, she expectantly looked at him waiting to see how he liked it. He always showed his gratefulness for the food but she nearly never got to see his reaction. It seemed as if he was stiffing a chuckle before taking a bite. His eyes widened: “It’s really good!”

Y/N grinned at him: “I seasoned it with the herbs from the garden! I’m so happy the previous owner at least took care of that part of the house” She took her own bite and missed the look on his face when she mentioned the previous owners. “Yeah they truly didn’t know how to treasure such a precious thing” Dabi took her hand across the table and smiled at Y/N, who’s checks were once again warm. They finished their dinner while she excitedly chatted about her day while he mainly smiled and nodded.

Dabi gave her a quick kiss before leaving to take a shower murmeln a small thanks against her lips. She quickly did the dishes and then made her way up the stairs to their bedroom which faced the backyard. She walked through the room and closed the balcony doors. lingering in the last sun rays for a short moment. Summer was slowly coming to an end, not that she would ever be cold with Dabi around her. Their child will most likely be born around christmas, just the thought of being able to spend the holidays with her own little family made her heart flutter.

She went over the bed to pull back the covers, not really caring that the position made her skirt hike up revealing her pussy to the silent room. It might be a little early for most people their age to go to bed but Dabi had an exhausting job and only was able to sleep knowing she was in his arms. A rough hand laid itself on her bare bottom and Dabi let out a pleased growl behind her. “Stay like this” Y/N heard something drop behind her, heat rushing to her face and groin.

“Have you been thinking about me?”, her lover asked, a finger tracing her labia, picking up some slick left over from her thoughts she had earlier the evening. “I hope it was me, otherwise I would be greatly disappointed”

She shook her head: “No! Just you, only you!” The thought of him being disappointed in her formed a clump of ice in her stomach, he was her world after all.

Dabi growled again before he plunged into her. Y/N let out a loud moan with sudden intrusion. He pulled her by the hips deeper on his cock, one hand finding his way to her belly. “You’re so gorgeous like this. My pretty little wife.” He snapped his hips into her even though his trust weren’t nearly as brutal as they used to be before her pregnancy . Y/N mewled beneath him, his cock still filling her up completely. She clenched around his shaft at his words and he let out a growl: “ You are on my mind all day, little one. Just thinking about you waiting for me, full and ripe” His fingers sliding from her stomach to her little bundle of nerves. Pleasure shot through her making Y/N bury her face in the sheets. “I hate wasting my whole day with these idiots and their useless nonsense “ Dabi drove into her harder and she let out a startled gasp. He stilled immediately, a concerned hand wandered to her stomach. She grabbed it and interlaced it with his bellow her belly button: “We’re fine. Everything's fine” It hadn’t really hurt her, being used to much rougher handling from her lover. Dabi pressed a loving kiss to her shoulder blade,his scared bottom lip giving it a pleasant scratchy sensation that she had come to love. Releasing the breath he was holding and he gently started moving again. “My precious little doll” He littered kisses along her spine through the thin fabric of her dress, his hand not straying from her stomach this time. She felt the heat within her rising, his cock hitting all the right spots to make her see stars. “You’re so good to me”, Dabi fondelt her ass, making her push back into him. “Nobody could treat me so well as you do. A perfect little housewife but also such a slut”, He growled, nipping and kissing at her neck. Y/N breath came out in little pants, eyes closed in bliss. “Presenting yourself to me like that. I bet you didn’t wear panties the whole day only waiting for me to come home to take you. Did you?” When no response but a gentle moan came, he landed a hard slap on her buttcheek. “Y-yes”, she spluttered. Heat, even though she didn’t think it was possible to add anymore, rising to her cheeks and her pussy gushed around his cock, the juice flowing down her thigh. Dabi picked up the pace: “Of course you did, Doll. That’s what your life is about. This cock inside you, breeding you. This man, taking you. I’m all that you need, right?”, his hand left her stomach and he lifted her upper body from the bed by her throat. The new angel hitting even deep inside her. Y/N cried out, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She had been with him for years at this point but she could never get used to the way he talked to her, so different from the pristin way she was raised. And she could never stop the light tingle of shame over the hot arousal filling her when Dabi treated her like this. Toes curling into the carpet, climax aproching she couldn’t respond “Do you want your man to fuck another child into you? I bet there's still space in that precious womb of yours.”, He stopped his movement when she once again failed to respond. The tears in her eyes threatened to spill over “Tell me do you want that”, Dabi tightened his hand around her throat slightly. “Please”, she whispered. “Huh”, he pulled her even more into his chest, his staples rubbing against her back, “I didn't hear you” A single tear slipping out of her eyes, the hand around her starting to hurt, even though he refused to put real pressure into it like he used to, his cock filling her to the brim ,her arousal dancing dangerously close to the edge. “Please”, she managed to get out, her breath laborded. “Please, what?”, the smile was evident in his voice. Y/N whimpered, more tears running down her cheeks. She knew he liked this and could play this game the whole evening. Getting off of her shame, the way she cried and was helpless in his grasp. She swallowed thickly against his hand, staring at the ceiling of their beautiful home. “Please, breed me, love” Dabi sight and starting up his trusts again, slow and agonizing. “keep going my little cry baby. Tell me what a whore you are for me, you don’t think this little belly is enough for me right” The hand that wasn't around her throat gently caressed the swell of her stomach. Y/N whimpered again, the trust being too shallow to push her over the edge, her pussy juice freely running down her leg onto the carpet she deep cleaned this morning. “I want you”, she interrupted herself and cried out when he thrusted into her a bit harder,” I want you to stuff me, make me swell even more. I want them to know I’m yours” He let out a low groan and picked up the pace, essentially bouncing her on his cock. “Do you? Maybe tomorrow I should take you in the garden. Would you like that? The fence isn’t that tall. Imagine how easily our neighbours could see you, getting fucked by me. Just me”, he mused and hot shame ran through her as she gushed around him once again. Only for him to chuckle. “Oh? Does my little doll get off on that? The thought of everyone knowing you belong to me? Is that why you are always so wet and welcoming for me? Does the fact that there is no way you can hide your stretching womb from the world get you off? Do you like wandering this world with my child inside you, showing them that you belong to me?” Y/N cried out, tears falling freely down her cheeks, them being redder than her ass after that one time she tried to visit her parents. “Y-Yes', she choked out, shame and arousal coiling in her stomach. Dabi let out a moan and lowered her back to the bed, hands gripping her hips tightly. “That’s my good little fuckdoll”, he pushed into her expertly, “Come for me” The coil in her abdomen snapped making her scream into the sheets, toes curling and gushing all over his cock. Him following soon after with a low moan, savering the feeling of her clenching around him before slowly slipping out of her.

Dabi gently rolled her on her back and further onto the bed so she wouldn’t fall down. If he hadn’t been so tired by today's messed up mission, he would have been hard again by sight in front of him alone. Her face red and blotchy, covered in tear streaks with the occasional tear running down her check. The chest heaving under the pulled up fabric of her innocent white summer dress, which did very little to conceal the little bump of their child. Her legs spread open leaving him a perfect view of her spent pussy covered in her own juice with his cum leaking out. He made a distasteful noise and shoved it back in, making Y/N meawl and trying to push his hand away. He shushed her, laying down on his side next to her, littering small kisses over her face while he lazily pumped his finger inside her, his thumb finding her little nerve bundle making sure all of his semen stays where it’s supposed to be. It didn’t take long for her to come undone from his fingers, hiding her face in his shoulder. Dabi chuckled: “Still so shy, as if you weren't begging for me just a minute ago”

Even though his tierd body couldn’t muster a second errection today, that mission had been a complet fuck up after all, ending with most of them injured, his hunger wasn’t quite satisfist and with his prettly little thing so trusting in his arms how could he resist. His lips slowly wandered down from her forehead over her cheek to her neck. He spend a little more time biting and sucking at the tender skin, savoring the shaky breath she took underneath him before moving on. He slowly pulled down the straps of her dress liking and kissing at the swell of her breast before slowly revealing her erect nipple to him. Dabi took it in his mouth sucking and nibbling at the bud. Making delicious moans spill from her lips. How long did it take until they started lactating? He had to research that again. Maybe she would let him have a taste of it, not that she ever really said no to him. He pulled away leaving a finger to trace it. “I have heard they get bigger during pregnancy, noting any differences yet, doll?”, he looked up at her flushed face, making sure to keep his voice casual knowing that it drove her mad. “N-No”, she stuttered. “Sad”, he said before moving from her breast to her belly, his lust slipped from his mind for a bit. “Hey there little one”, he placed a kiss to each side next to her belly button.

Dabi remembered how his heart had dropped when she had told him she was pregnant. He had already been far too often concerned about having taken her, she would have been so much saver at her parents house not with a wanted villain like him. But they had been trying so hard to take her from him, going as far as having bodyguards around her 24/7. The thought alone made him want to burn everything in his sight down. The only thing lifting the clouds from his head at that time was that bright smile on her face, happy about starting a family with him. How different to the beginning when she would scream and yell at his sight alone. But that smile also reminded him why he had to keep her, without it he would go insane in this cruel world.

Y/N hadn’t started showing until a few days ago, at least it seemed to him like it had suddenly been there. Probably stemming from the fact that he barely got to see her in daylight these days. That fucker shigaraki seemed to work in full speed, making them go on one mission after another. Dabi couldn’t really tell him about his situation, the league of villains didn't exactly have health benefits or maternity leave. And he wasn’t close enough with any of them to discuss his private life with them. Not that they wouldn’t try to pray any bits of it out of him. They were already suspicious at him leaving the city for this house, making warp dudes job a lot harder than it already was having to collect him from further away. But he wouldn’t let any of them near his precious doll, not wanting to put her more into danger than she already was.

Dabi kept pressing kisses to the slightly stretched skin, muttern sweet nothing against it. “D-Dabi”, Y/N hand grabbed onto his hair lightly pushing his head down. He grinned : “Yes Doll? I’m currently having a conversation” Y/N flushed above him, struggling to maintain eye contact with him, gently pushing on his head again but still keeping that pretty little mouth shut. “You’re not jealous of the attention are you?”, the raven head teased but for once followed her lead downwards to her glistening sex. Not willing to submit to her completely he turned his head to her thigh, lapping up some of the juice that had started to dry. Purposefully scratching the staple of his checks along the soft flesh. Y/N had confessed how much she enjoyed the sensation once and he would be a horrible lover to deprive her of something she liked so much right. His darling whimpered above him. “My quirk’s fire, not mind reading, you know?!”, he dragged his hands going up towards her sex but trailed them down again before he reached it. Had it been a few months ago he might had heated up his palms to tease her a little, not enough to really hurt but enough to send a little trill down her spine. But just like he would rather kill himself than truly hurt his love, he would neve put his quirk anywhere near his child if he could help it. “Please touch me”, y/n managed to bring across her lips. “But I am touching you, am I not?”, his teeth nipped closer to her sex. “Please Touch my”, she stopped hand curling into the sheets, eyes wandering away from him across the room in thought. He laughed lightly, still the little church girl wasn’t she. “Your pussy?”, Dabi finished for her scentence, enjoying the wait the blush creeped over her face down to her neck. “Is that what you want? Me eating you out? My tounge in your clit? Me pleasing you with my mouth”, he continued teasing. Lifting his mouth from her thigh that at this point was nearly purple with love bits, both old and now, he hovered over her sex looking up at her. She gave a nod before catching herself and whispering a small yes. “How naughty of you”, he placed a kiss on her clit making her squirm, “we’re not even married yet “ was the last thing he said before diving into her. Eating her as she was his last meal, lapping and sucking at her core. Slurping every bit of her juice up before poking his tounge into her opening. Having her trash above her, moans leaving her lips, whispering swear praise had him in ecstasy. It didn’t take long before she came silently screaming, arching her back of the mattress. Dabi looked up at her contemplating on keeping going, but the labored breath and the exhausted look on her face made himself stop. He remembered how clean all the carpets on the second floor had seemed when he walked to take a shower, she must have been on her feet the whole day. Dabi moved up her body gently placing his lips on hers. He would have enough time to overstimulated her into oblivion in a few months.

Dabi got up, put on the sweatpants he had dropped earlier, leaving the room. Y/N laid in their shared bed, her breathing and skin color slowly returning back to normal. Still shaky she sat up, pushing her hair out of her sweaty face. Dabi returned shortly after he had left and picked her up wordlessly. She naturally put her arms around his neck, cuddling into his chest savoring the feeling of the different skin structure under her touch. He carried her to the master bathroom where he had drawn her a bath. Gently placing her down on the edge of the tub, taking off her dress and helping her slip into the warm water. “Is it too warm?” he asked, remembering reading that pregnant women shouldn’t take hot baths. Y/N shakes her head leaning back slightly and resting one hand on her stomach. His naturally joined hers: “Did I hurt you?” Just the thought of it made a sick feeling creep up his spine. He had toned down his manhandling of her significantly but something inside of him just couldn’t control herself when she was so small and dainty in his arms. Y/N gave him a smile: “No, it just seems natural to place my hand there” He hummed bending over the edge of the tub, cold and hard against his chest, to place a kiss on her stomach just above the water surface. Blushing his lover turned her head away, which earned her a dark laugh from him: “We just fucked and you’re still shy” “I guess that never is going to go away”, she mumbled, the heat not leaving her face the whole time Dabi helped her wash herself, both of them sharing sweet whispers and giggles between small kisses he would place on her skin.

After he lifted her out of the tub, against her protest, dressed her in one of the fluffy bathing ropes, he carried her back to their bedroom.

It washed over Y/N like cold water: “Your scars! Did you take care of them after your shower?” “Doll” he grumbled, wanting only to place her on the bed and to go to sleep even though he couldn’t say her concern didn’t make his heart swell. Knowing that that responds meant a clear no and without much thinking she jumped out of his arms. Fear gripped his previously warm heart for a slip second: “Y/N!” Said woman stood in front of him like a deer in headlights. He only ever used her name when she did something terrible, it sounded awful, foreign to her. Dabi grabbed her face: “Don’t ever do that again!” Tears pricked her eyes once again, she only wanted to take care of him, she acted without thinking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, she whimpered. “You are never allowed to leave my arms without my permission do you understand!” She nodded rapidly, but the fingers digging into her cheeks only thingend. “Yes, love. I promise”, she answered in a small voice. Dabi released her face, pulling the woman into his chest. “It’s not just you now, you have to remember that” “Yes”, she whispered meekly, trying to blink away the tears. He sighed, as he let go of her: “Now go get your goddamn balm if it means so much to you” Dabi made his way over to sit on the bed, which was still messy from their previous activities, a fact his darling disliked. He couldn't fully stop the smirk on his lips as he saw the disapproving face towards it from her, but for once held his tongue. Y/N grabbed the small jar stored in one of the bedside tables moving between Dabis legs and started applying the balm all over his burned skin. It was an old ritual they both had, her previous nursing experience making her aware of how sensitive burn scars are. She had left their flat to get the special, and very expensive, balm from a pharmacy across town. He had been so ready to burn down everything when she reappeared in front of him with the biggest smile possible on her face proudly presenting the tub. It was the only time he hadn’t punished her for leaving even though he made it clear to never do so without his permission again. Y/N frowned at how little was left in the tub, they always needed a lot for him: “I have to get a new one tomorrow” “No”, he said maybe a bit too harshly. Her doe eyes stared at him, she had been granted the right to leave with his permission a long time again, she didn’t understand what changed: “Have I not been good?” Ice accumulated in her stomach again, Heart Beating rapidly. She only had ever tried her best, wanting to give back to him after all he had done for her, but she seemed to lose his good side to her more and more over the last few weeks. She had tried her hardest to please him, maybe he did finally lose interest in her now that she’s pregnant. Y/N had heard from some of her friends before that their husbands lost interest in them when they got pregnant. Was this happening to them too? Was what he’s been saying during love making only to please her, to fulfill her disgusting fetish? Obviously. He probably only stayed with her because he was such a good man and felt responsible for them. “Doll”, Dabis rough voice pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts, pulling her closer and pushing a strand of her out of her face. “It’s too dangerous for you to go out alone in your state, I couldn't bear the thought of either of you getting hurt when I'm not there to protect you. Remember when I installed all those alarms?” Y/N nodded, swallowing thickly. Dabi pulled her into a soft kiss, taking the jar from her: “I’ll get the balm tomorrow alright? No need to worry your pretty little head” She nodded and let him pull her down with him. Them curling around each other, his hand reaching for her stomach: “I would burn the whole world down before I let them take you from me”

#mha scenarios #mha imagine #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi scenarios #yandere dabi #text #by the lady

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proudfreakmetarusonikku · 3 years ago

Note

How about an au where punz doesn't show up during the disc War final

That was one of the first AUs I ever planned out in my head, eventually getting refined into my protege!innit AU. So here you go my lovely anon, here’s the concept, slightly refined. (Also, quick warning that Tommy does use some accidentally ableist language in this! Also, this is INCREDIBLY dark)

Tommy clung onto the headless body of Tubbo desperately, sobbing and sobbing and praying for somehow a way for him to come back, his cries echoing throughout the underground vault the only sound. Hands grasping onto his hair, stern but not harsh, barely brought him back into reality.

Dream sighed. “Tommy. Follow me.”

“No.”

His hair was tugged, harshly. “What do you mean, no?”

“No. I’m not coming with you.”

Dream held out the bloodstained axe, dripping with Tubbo's blood. It nearly made Tommy sick to see it again. “You don’t have a choice. Come with me or you will die here.”

“Maybe that's what I want! Maybe I’d rather die and be with Wilbur and Tubbo than be your fucking toy to torture or whatever!” Tommy shouted, the broken voice echoing.

Dream sighed again. “If you’re going to be difficult…”

The axe handle hit Tommy's head. All went black.

He woke up in a cell too dark and too bright, suffocatingly small and blistering hot with the heat of the lava. The yellow orange red mix was mesmerising. It should be so so easy to just touch it and end everything and go to whatever came after. It must be better than being a psycho bastard's personal punching bag.

He passed out from the pain when he tried to stand. He woke, again in the bed in the cell. It was surprisingly comfortable, better than the bed he had managed to put together in exile, and he hated it. That implied a level of permanence to his hell.

Wilbur's coat was gone, he noticed. He was pretty sure he was in a different set of clothes, too. He would not have the time to worry about those things soon.

(Meanwhile, a skull with ram horns and a bloodsoaked red and white hoodie and a patchwork longcoat wash up on the shores one day. They are taken to a home where a half-exploded beanie sits waiting for its wearer, and there are three extra seats at the table that will never be filled.)

Tommy had no idea how long he was alone in the cell. It could have been hours, days, weeks, an eternity. Time meant nothing, anymore. He still felt far too sick to leave the bed, the headache and bleeding from when his head was hit barely getting any better along with him feeling weaker and weaker, desperate for any water, any food.

He was certain he was going to die when he, half conscious, heard footsteps and was sat up on the headboard. Water was held to his lips, his throat and lips so dry he could barely take sips. When he’d finished the bottle, he was hand fed warm bread, so hungry it tasted like ambrosia on his tongue and so delirious he couldn’t even muster the energy to be angry he was being fed like an animal.

When warm hands were moved away, and he heard footsteps on the floor, Tommy let out a confused, animalistic chirp, barely aware what was going on but just knowing he didn’t want to be alone again. A laugh echoed from the walls, and a hand was run through his hair. Tommy leant in, purring like a cat. As he fell back into unconsciousness, all he could do was beg whoever was there in a voice scratchy and barely audible to please, please not leave him alone again.

He didn’t dream anymore. That was too much thought, hurting his head and making him almost sick, though he didn’t have enough food in him to be sick anymore. He just let himself be consumed by the darkness, and he slept well for the first time in a while.

He was alone again when he woke. Almost alone. A ghostly figure sat cross-legged at the lava keeping him prisoner, the green of his shirt almost invisible through the red stained blood, and his head in his hands and not on his neck. Tommy wasn’t sure if he was going mad already or if this was like Ghostbur, but either way he felt less alone with the ghostly form of Tubbo with him.

Ghost Tubbo disappeared when the lava parted, Dream entering into Tommy's prison. Tommy glared at the masked man, and he laughed. “Last time I was here, you were begging me to stay.”

Tommy felt himself turn red slightly at the memory of that, but continued glaring. “Fuck off.”

“Tommy, don’t speak to me like that or you’re not going to be able to eat today.” Dream said, with the tone Wilbur got when he used to tell off Tommy when he was doing something stupid. It made Tommy's blood boil.

“I don’t care,” he said, even as his throat ached and stomach throbbed. “Just let me die.”

Dream shook his head. “You’re too fun.”

Tommy growled. “And you’re a fucking sociopa-“

Tommy's cut off to hands around his neck, claws digging in deep enough to bleed. “I’d advise you listen, Tommy.” Dream said, voice as cheerily calm as always. “Or I’ll make you listen.”

Tommy sputtered for breath when his neck was released. “What do you want?”

“I just want to spend time with my only friend. Is that so hard to believe?” He laughs at Tommy's disbelieving expression, looking for the hidden meaning in the words. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you? You know, things would be much easier if you stopped trying to defy me.”

(By the time Dream left, Tommy was holding a broken nose, black eyed and bruised, starving, and defiance in his eyes slightly dimmed.)

Life fell into a sickening routine. When Dream wasn’t there, Tommy slept. He was too dehydrated to cry anymore, so he just stared at the wall when he was awake. Ghost Tubbo was there, sometimes. When Tommy dared speak to him, he was mechanical, emotionless, entirely dedicated to protecting Tommy but painfully aware he couldn’t do anything but watch.

When Dream was, he’d bring food and water. Most of it ended up discarded, Tommy being deemed as too disobedient to deserve it. Sometimes he gave in and acted good being so desperate and hated himself for it. On those days, Dream talked with him, messed with his hair and hugged him and treated him with a twisted form of the affection Tommy recognised from Wilbur, or maybe Phil. On most days, Tommy was “punished.“

He’s not sure how long it took, but Tommy noticed as he slowly lost sight in one of his eyes as he took more and more blows to the head, how his left arm started hanging completely limp after being broken one too many times, how the web of scars covering his entire body only grew, both larger and deeper.

The first time Tommy died, it was unintentional. His head was hit against the obsidian, and something inside him broke, and he’s dead before he could even realise he’s dying. He wasn’t sure whether the afterlife is better or worse. It’s dark, and empty, and Wilbur is frightening, but there’s Tubbo- the Tubbo he knew, not the dull eyed ghost who as Tommy had learnt from Ghostbur was a separate entity.

It’s a month in the afterlife, apparently, before he’s brought back, the cell a mess of colour and noise and heat and touch and all of it too much, too much. Dream is excited, enthusiastic, asked him everything he can about the afterlife. Tommy refused to talk, and the slap across the face he received was a far, far, worse pain than gouging claws and broken limbs. He talked after that, through pained tears.

After that, it became a part of the routine he grew worryingly accustomed to. Like clockwork, every thirty visits he was killed, and like clockwork, he was always revived after one month in the afterlife, one day outside it. Dream asked him inane, weird questions about the afterlife. Sometimes he took Tommy's blood, sometimes he gave him weird injections. Dream was always weirdly kind on those days, and Tommy grew to long for them in a twisted way. He hated himself for it.

Bruises grew around his neck, refusing to heal. Deep deep cuts on his neck and his wrists stayed open, bleeding slightly when touched. Stab wounds and axe cuts covering his torso did the same. His hair turned white in chunks. Dream started dying it blond. It hurt and got into his wounds on his head. He learnt to tolerate it because when he squirmed and tried to get away it upset Dream and that's worse.

It’s easier to behave, so he does. He barely talked for a while, but he learnt that’s another thing that upset Dream. He bit his tongue and pretended it’s Wilbur, it’s Phil when Dream held him in his arms and ruffled his hair and talked gently to him. One day he brought in a jukebox and played the discs. It reminded Tommy of a time before the cell. He couldn’t remember the colour of grass or how the sunset looked. He hated it. Dream offered him the discs if he behaved, later on. Tommy grabbed them from his hands and shattered the plastic in two, because he didn’t want them, he didn’t want them to even exist because what was the fucking point of caring about anything anymore? Not discs, not people, not anything. Dream laughed and laughed.

(A ghostly teen, head held in his arm, gathered the shards. He stood at the door of a snowy house, uncaring of the pain as his body dissolved in it, not even reacting. When inside, he explains, monotone, to a paling looking angel and a crowned anarchist who’s hunger for blood increased by each word.)

If anyone else wants to send in some more AU ideas it’d be lovely and I will make them heavily involve c!primeboys no matter what and again that’s a challenge.

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saberdeity · 4 years ago

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I’m Sick

Matt Simmons x GenderNeutral Reader

Summary- ‘I’m not sick.... okay maybe I am sick”

Warnings- Mentions of sickness

Notes- Thank you anon for requesting! I really hope you like it, sorry it isn't great 🥺

*not my gif, full credit goes to the owner*

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You woke up with a stuffed nose, a sore, scratchy throat and your head was pounding. The light coming from the slightly open curtains making you wince every time you looked towards it. You sneezed a dozen times, making your head pound more as you groaned in pain a little. Matt stirs in his sleep, turning to see you with virtually no covers but shivering tensely.

“Baby are you sick?” He asks, his voice laced with concern as he presses the back of his hand against your forehead, checking to see if you were warm. You were extremely warm and it worried him a little more.

“I am not sick” you say trying your hardest to deny the fact you are actually pretty sick and probably will be for the next few days

You move the covers away from you, moving your legs over the side of the bed as you ignore the continuous pounding like a heart beat in your head as you tried to get up. You lost all sense of where you were as the world began spinning rapidly around you as you lowered yourself back onto the bed admitting defeat.

“Okay maybe I’m sick” You say sneezing loudly as Matt helps you back into bed, wrapping you in the duvet as you begin to shiver uncontrollably.

Matt kisses your cheek softly as he gets out of bed, pulling on some grey sweatpants as moves into your bathroom. You snuggle into the duvet and Matt’s still warm side of the bed, desperate to find some form of warmth even though you felt boiling hot to the touch, you felt freezing cold. Matt begins to run you a bubble bath, putting all of your favourite scents and salts to make your muscles relax a little more in the hope to warm you up.

“Bath’s ready sweetie” He says with the softest voice, picking you up from the bed and walking back into the bathroom with you. He pulls is shirt off of you as he helps you step into the warm bath, an instant sigh of relief leaving your lips as you start to feel a little more relaxed.

Whilst you were enjoying your bubble bath, Matt walks off to grab everything you need, tissues, pain medication and also cold/medication to help with the congestion you were feeling. After you had reluctantly gotten out of the bath, dried yourself and gotten straight back into bed, Matt put on you one of his biggest hoodies, making sure to keep you warm and cozy. He put on your favourite movie as you felt a little better.

Matt disappeared after a little while, moving into the kitchen to make your favourite soup that he made. It always made you feel warm and slightly happy. You were still watching the Lion King on the tv in the bedroom, waiting for the cold and flu medicine to kick in.

Matt walked in with the bowl of soup in his hands as you sat up. He placed the tray softly in your lap with the bowl on top giving you a soft smile as he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you my love” you whispered hoarsely the soreness making it difficult to talk louder than a whisper.

He smiled back, slipping into the bed beside you as he pulled you into his side a little. Your head leant happily on his shoulder, still having the perfect view of the television as you ate the hot soup in front of you.

Matt stayed cuddled with you the entire day, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he placed soft kisses on your forehead, checking your temperature every hour just make sure it wasn’t rising on a dangerous level. He wraps the duvet around you both tightly, making sure you had the majority of it as you snuggled into his warm chest, watching the next movie which just automatically playing.

You were lucky to have Matt, he looked after you no matter what you needed and you were very thankful to have him in your life!

Taglist- (if I have missed you I'm sorry I have an awful memory! comment on this post and I'll add you 🥺)

@baumarvel

@marleyhotchner

#Matt Simmons #matt simmons x reader #matt simmons x y/n #he's so cute

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weeb-stomper · 4 years ago

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Won’t be Without You

Villain Deku x Fem!Hero!Reader

A/N: Hello! This is my first fan fiction that I’ve written. It’s completely unedited, so I’m sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors. Feel free to message me with suggestions and corrections, I appreciate any input you’d take the time to offer!

Warnings: Kidnapping, imprisonment, violence against reader, language

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A dizzying sense of nausea crashed over you like a wave from the ocean, stirring you from unconsciousness. A dull, throbbing pain in your head made itself fully known as your head rolled forward, chin resting heavily against your chest. You tried and failed to bring your hands to your face, only then realizing that they were bound tightly behind you. Jerking your head upright, you tried again to tug your hands free. Horror swept through your mind, and an attempt to kick out with your legs confirmed that they were also well-bound to the seat you sat in. The scratchy and rough material peeled away at your skin as you struggled, a slick, wet feeling rolling down your hands and collecting on your fingertips before falling to the cracked pavement floor. The disgusting, rhythmic dripping of what could only be your own blood pounded in your ears over and over again like a drum, causing you to double down and fight harder against the restraints.

Small whimpers and yelps left your mouth as you thrashed in a desperate attempt to free yourself for what felt like hours, only stilling when you had long since used the reserves of your strength. Only now, huffing out ragged breaths and sweat rolling down the slope of your neck, did you stop to look around the makeshift prison cell. The room was dark, a small window set high into the wall acting as the only source of light. Sounds of zooming cars could be heard faintly every once in a while, their headlights pouring into the room and bathing it with artificial yellow light before abandoning to the pitch-blackness once more. In the moments of illumination you could see the bland, red-brick walls of the oppressive room, the shapes of the barrels and crates surrounding you revealed by the streaking lights. The sound of a far-away door clicking open stopped your inspection in its tracks.

Your head shot towards the noise, panic washing through your mind, and you could see light pouring into the room from the top of a set of stairs about 15 feet to your right. Trembling, Y/N hung your head once more and clenched your eyes shut in a poor attempt to pass as unconscious. The sounds of two distinct sets of footsteps filled the room. They approached your bound figure at a steady and consistent pace, one coming to stop directly behind you while the other took up post in front of you. A rough, calloused hand slid across your shoulder, and you couldn’t stop the resulting shudder. The ensuing chuckle was far too familiar. You jerked away from the sound, tucking your head forward against your chest in a sad attempt to create distance between yourself and Shigaraki as you bucked wildly against your restraints. The thought that those killer hands had touched you, even for a second, almost caused you to pass out right then and there. Tears pooled in your eyes, choked sobs and grunts escaping your throat despite efforts to stuff them down. A much smoother hand gripped your chin, easily yanking it up from its semi-protected position, and you froze completely when your y/e/c eyes met a nostalgic set of striking emerald green ones. Confusion clouded your already overwhelmed mind.

“...Izuku?”

A wicked smile twisted your previous classmate’s face as he stared at your grief stricken expression, his hot breath fanning across your sweat-soaked face.

“Surprised?” he asked excitedly, his hand sliding up from your chin to rub tears away from under your eyes. “I’m so happy to see you, Y/N. I’ve missed you so much since I went away.”

Reeling, you took in the sight of your childhood friend. Midoriya was crouched between your knees, easily balancing on his toes as he looked at your face with melancholic adoration. He wore a crisp white dress shirt tucked into creased black slacks, a simple belt with a small silver buckle adorning his waist. A dark green tie hugged his neck, disappearing underneath a pristine black dress vest. The black leather glove on his right hand hid the thick scars that you’d always thought were so beautiful. His wild curls had been cut shorter, revealing a neat undercut on the back of his head. He looked exactly as handsome as he had when he’d disappeared during your freshman year at U.A, almost four years ago.

“This is where you’ve been this whole time? No one’s seen you in years, Izuku, we thought you were dead!” you spat at him, turning your head to escape the affectionate touch. “Don’t touch me!” you almost screamed. “Do you have any idea what this has been like for us? For your mo-”

SMACK

The coppery taste of blood filled your mouth as you sat in stunned silence, your cheek already beginning to swell. Your head swiveled towards Midoriya slowly, as if on a post, and you looked up at him with defiant eyes. He was standing again, teeth bared in a vicious snarl as he bore down on your bound form. The tension in the air ratcheted up to an unbearable level as the stare down continued, not caring about igniting his wrath at this point. You were mad, you were hurt, and there was no way he was going to let you walk away from this either way, so you were going to let him feel the full array of the pain you’d endured during his absence.

“You’re telling me you ditched Katsuki and I to be a villain and you still hit like a sissy?”

He bristled at the jab, fists clenching tightly at his sides as he worked to restrain himself.

“You’d do well not to antagonize me. I’m happy to see you, but not that happy.” he said, voice laced with malice.

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!” you screamed. You stilled when a weight settled onto your neck.

A hand now gripped the base of your neck from behind, one finger missing. Anger and indignation melted into stark terror as Shigaraki leaned in close to your ear, the sound of his sickening laughter biting into your sanity and making your skin crawl. As if to solidify the unspoken threat, the black detachable collar of your hero costume dissolved into ash. Midoriya crouched between your bound legs once more, fixing you with a level stare.

“I’ll be straightforward. I want you to join the league. Be with me again, like before.”

Your eyes blew painfully wide, mouth falling open. “You’re joking.”

“Don’t you remember what those ‘heroes’ did to us? They bullied us, they ignored us, they called you a villain. Kachan humiliated us almost daily and no one batted an eyelash. And now he gets to be the #1 top hero? How is that fair? Why should you dedicate your life to a society that hates you? Join us, you and I can be together again.” His hand snaked up from his side to press against your cheek again, thumb running gently across your bottom lip. “We can be together the way we always wanted.”

Your nausea returned full-force as his fingers ghosted across your face greedily. What is he talking about? Izuku had been your closest friend. He’d supported you through bullying and family crisis, self-esteem issues, classroom anxiety, and just life in general. In return you’d done the same by answering a seemingly endless stream of phone calls about the most recent heroics from the news or glimpsed on the street or supporting him through a particularly nasty confrontation with Katsuki. But despite your closeness, you’d never been or even wanted to be involved. If he had romantic feelings for you then this was the first you were hearing of it, and it wasn’t good news. Setting that aside, you decide to press this moment of vulnerability, hoping to stir some sense of the golden heart you’d always admired.

“Zuku, is this really who you want to be?”

He recoiled from your like you’d struck him, nursing his hand against his chest, and a jolt of fear ran through your icy veins. “Who cares who I wanted to be? I pined for hero society my entire life and they rejected me!” he bellowed, rising to a standing position to pace a few feet in front of the seat. “If they don’t want me the way I wanted to give myself to them then they should at least take responsibility for the person I became instead.”

You scoffed at the delusional rant, anger boiling lowly behind your y/e/c eyes as you stared up at the shell of your friend. “That’s bullshit and you know it Zuku! We got into U.A, we made it into hero society! Hell, you were a top performer in the hero course! It was all within your reach, and you skipped out to join these guys!” The muscles in your neck twitched with exertion as you worked to remain perfectly still, a lifted finger dancing tauntingly in your peripheral vision. You took a deep breath and lowered your strained voice. “We never stopped looking for you. y’know. You could just come home with me. Walk away from all this right now and I’d never say a word.”

Calm down. Katsuki’s probably out looking for me right now. I just have to stay calm till he turns up.

At that, Midoriya stopped pacing. He turned to face you, a pained expression on his face. Striding forward, he waved off Shigaraki. You sagged against the seat in relief. The adrenaline that had pounded through your veins had been burned off, and all it left behind was absolute exhaustion. You were unable to resist when Midoriya ran his fingers through your hair, both of his hands trailing down your jaw to hold your face between his palms. He inclined your head towards him and pity surged through you at the glossy look in his once optimism-soaked eyes.

“Do you still love me?” he asked in the most pitiful voice you’d ever heard from him.

You leaned into his gloved palm, nuzzling it weakly. “Of course I do, Zuku. You’re my best friend. But...I just can’t do this for you.”

He knelt down between your legs again, scooting as close as possible before resting his forehead against yours.

“Please agree to stay with me. I won’t be without you again.”

“Come with me instead.” you said, not hiding the desperation in your trembling voice. “You and I are the only ones who know you’ve been here, and I’d never say a word. We could make something up and go back to normal.”

Midoriya sighed heavily. He stood up, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head before walking towards the door. Shigaraki followed without a word, shooting a vicious smirk over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice as he drew closer to the door.

“If you won’t agree to stay then I’ll just have to keep you here by force, doll. You’ll come around eventually, but until then you’ll just have to stay right where you are.”

Completely drained and unable to thrash anymore, you sagged limply in your seat. Darkness enveloped you once more as the door clacked shut, and dread ate at your gut while you prayed for someone, anyone, to save you from the man you’d devoted your life to finding for four agonizing years

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whitecrowapothecary · 4 years ago

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Bottled Delights (4)

This is the final chapters folks! In this, Jaskier makes good on a promise, and Geralt explores something new.

Tag list: @love-more-today-than-yesterday

Read it on AO3 here!

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Geralt had a fascination with Jaskier’s mouth. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were together now or because he knew what Jaskier was, but he stared. He also didn’t know which would be worse. His lips were always moving, talking or smiling or singing, and Geralt got to see first hand how he did not hide those sharp teeth of his. Not in a way that affected Geralt anymore. Jaskier had dropped his glamour after Geralt had caught him a week ago and apologized. Jaskier was not amused when Geralt had called it an illusion, because he ‘wasn’t a mage’, and so Geralt had asked what he should call it.

Geralt found himself watching Jaskier far more than was necessary, but he found Jaskier watching him nearly as much, eyes dark with hunger. The look made Geralt intimately aware of the blood rushing through him every time, as if it called to Jaskier as much as Jaskier called to him with a sly smile or crook of the finger. Geralt had just about had enough of it too- so that afternoon, Geralt told B.B. that under no circumstances was anyone to come into the house after lunch. B.B. had been a bit confused by the request, but did as he was instructed. Workers were cleared out quickly, and Geralt and Jaskier were the only ones around for dinner that night.

Jaskier had quirked a brow when people had begun to clear out, but Geralt merely sipped his drink and shrugged. He was the one to take care of the dishes that night, and he was drying his hands, trying to figure out how to broach the subject when arms wrapped around his waist and a slim body pressed against his back. Lips press against the skin right behind his ear, and Jaskier’s voice is velvet.

“Someone has plans.” Geralt hums, leaning back into Jaskier’s arms and delighting in the easy way that Jaskier’s arms tighten around him. “Are you that eager, darling? It’s hardly been a week.”

“I’ve been patient this long.” Geralt’s voice is scratchy, rough in his ears compared to Jaskier’s, but Jaskier chuckles, and his voice takes on a husky tone.

“I would say so.” Jaskier grazes his teeth over Geralt’s neck, sending shivers down his spine, and he wordlessly takes Geralt's hand to lead him from the kitchen. Geralt hardly registers going through the main room to get to his bedroom, but he hears when the lock clicks, shutting the two of them in. Jaskier leans back against the door, eyes half lidded, and he nods toward the bed. “Undress.”

This- isn’t quite how he was expecting things to start, but Jaskier’s voice is firm and Geralt does as he asks. He feigns calm indifference the best he can, tugging his shirt up and over his head and slipping out of his boots. He pauses for a moment when he gets to his pants, glancing up at Jaskier, and he smirks when he sees Jaskier watching, enraptured. The ties come undone easily, and Geralt lets them drop, stepping out and trying not to feel self conscious. Jaskier’s eyes roam over him, taking in the sight of Geralt undressed, and his brows raise.

“You aren’t done.” Warmth pools in Geralt’s stomach at Jaskier’s tone, and he hooks a thumb on either side of his smallclothes. They drop to the floor to join his other clothes, and now he’s truly bare. Jaskier huffs out a small breath, coming forward to smooth hands over Geralt’s chest. His fingers trace each scar, large or small, and something warm and flimsy takes residence in his chest. “On the bed, love.”

Geralt pushes the blankets down to the end of the bed, crawling into the middle and laying down on his back. He should feel vulnerable, exposed and on display like he is, but Jaskier stares at him like he’s been given a gift, shrugging off his doublet. It’s Geralt's turn to admire Jaskier as he strips, taking the time to pick his own clothes off the floor and tuck them somewhere safe. Jaskier digs through his things for a moment, looking for something, and comes back to Geralt quickly. He crowds into Geralt’s space, settling between his legs and humming when Geralt squeezes his thighs around Jaskier’s hips affectionately. Geralt props himself up on an elbow, admiring Jaskier between his legs and wondering aloud. “Have you done this before?”

“I’ve done many things in my life, love.” Jaskier leans down, kissing a trail from Geralt’s stomach up his chest, scraping his teeth over Geralt’s collarbone. His skin stings with the sharpness of Jaskier’s teeth, but he hasn’t drawn blood yet. “But never this.”

That pleases Geralt immensely for some reason. For Jaskier to trust him enough to even suggest, let alone go along with it? It makes heat boil through him, and he can feel his cock twitch against his hip. Jaskier notices immediately, and he brings a hand down to pet over the new scar on Geralt’s thigh. Shocks shoot through Geralt at the touch, and he gasps, thigh twitching madly the longer that Jaskier traces gentle fingers over it. None of his other scars are quite so sensitive, so new, and he reaches a hand up to draw Jaskier down. He kisses Jaskier to hide the noise he makes, and Jaskier laps greedily into his mouth, tasting them for himself and shuffling a bit closer. Geralt hears the soft pop of a cork, and he strains, listening closer. He doesn't smell anything out of the ordinary, but Jaskier has learned quickly that unless he wanted Geralt to have a sneezing fit their oil had to be relatively scentless.

Still, he jumps at the first slick finger sliding over his hole, and he moans against Jaskier’s mouth. This is another thing they haven’t done yet- Jaskier was content to take, to rock in Geralt’s lap, but Jaskier had told him that wouldn’t happen if he drank. The thought had gotten Geralt half hard in an instant, and now as one warm finger circles his hole anticipation builds in his gut. Jaskier kisses him as he teases, pressing a finger in just to the first knuckle before slipping back out. Geralt groans against his mouth, disappointed, and his back arches against the bed when Jaskier slides a finger into him and crooks. He’s merciless immediately, and Geralt’s hips jerk when Jaskier’s finger rubs over that spot inside of him.

“Fuck, Jask-” Jaskier chuckles quietly, his other hand resting on the bed beside Geralt’s ribs. He keeps himself propped up, and the only point of contact they have is Geralt’s thighs around Jaskier and Jaskier’s finger working in and out of him slowly. Pleasure trickles through him in easy waves, washing over him and making his muscles relax. He tilts his head back, panting and groaning when a second finger prods at his rim. The second finger goes in as slowly as the first, and Geralt focuses on the feeling of being slowly and thoroughly stretched out. Jaskier spends his time trailing kisses across Geralt’s chest and collarbones, particularly taken by the juts of bone and fond of scraping his teeth over them. Geralt feels the moment that Jaskier finally breaks skin at the same time that a third finger presses up and into him, and Jaskier inhales sharply.

He goes still over Geralt, fingers pressed deep as he inhales, breath hot against Geralt’s skin. Geralt’s hand comes up before he realizes what he’s doing, and he touches the back of Jaskier’s head lightly. “It’s okay.”

Jaskier’s tongue flicks out, and he shudders at just the small taste, thrusting his fingers in and out roughly. Geralt moans, shifting his hips down and hand idly petting at the back of Jaskier’s head. Jaskier seems to tire of the teasing, and he pulls his fingers out, sitting back on his haunches and reaching for the oil. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, and he still seems with it as far as Geralt can tell. Geralt watches as Jaskier slicks himself up, and Jaskier has Geralt scoot further up the bed. He’s close to the headboard now as opposed to in the middle, but that seems to be what Jaskier wants. He searches Geralt’s face for a moment, and his lips twitch in a private smile.

“You’re sure about this? I’ll be near insatiable.”

“I can handle it.” Geralt promises, spreading his legs a bit wider and smirking at the way Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat. Jaskier crowds into his space, cock pressing insistently at Geralt’s hole while he tucks his face against Geralt’s neck.

“Let’s pray you can. Sing for me, love.” Geralt opens his mouth so say something cheeky, but Jaskier presses into him slowly and Geralt’s hips shift down of their own accord. He almost loses himself in that sensation alone, but teeth prick at his neck, razor sharp, and Geralt is caught between the instant of pain as Jaskier’s teeth sink in and the pleasure of Jaskier’s cock sliding deep inside him. Jaskier’s hips roll slowly as he takes his first mouthful of blood, and Geralt hears himself moan faintly over the sound of wood splintering. The drag of Jaskier’s mouth against his neck is an odd sensation, but he can’t feel Jaskier’s teeth anymore and sparks shoot over his neck and down his chest as Jaskier takes another long drink. Geralt hears wood crack again, but Jaskier’s hips pull back and snap forward and Geralt quickly stops caring about the sound.

Geralt shifts in Jaskier’s grip, whining when Jaskier snarls against his neck and gathers him up. His head spins at the sudden change of position, and he’s seated firmly in Jaskier’s lap as Jaskier thrusts up into him. Geralt wraps an arm around Jaskier’s neck, fingers sliding into the bard’s hair to hold him close. Jaskier makes a pleased, throaty sound against Geralt’s neck, pulling back to lap lazily at the wound. Geralt can feel his flesh knitting back together faintly, but Jaskier’s cock is pressing against his sweet spot and he’s quickly losing any semblance of formal thought. Jaskier keeps himself seated deep, grinding his hips up, and he’s so, so hard inside of Geralt, body thrumming with energy. Geralt blinks his eyes open, panting and taking in the sight of Jaskier in all his glory.

His pupils are blown wide, overtaking the blue of his iris’ entirely, and there’s blood on his lips and smeared on his chin. Geralt dips to kiss him automatically, and the metallic copper taste of his own blood shouldn’t be nearly as attractive as it is. Jaskier seems to like Geralt lapping into his mouth for more of a taste, and he rocks up harder into Geralt. Geralt lifts and drops his hips in time with Jaskier’s thrusts, coming back together hard, and he gasps when a hand wraps firmly around his cock. He arches up into the touch immediately, grinding forward and moaning against Jaskier’s lips. His release builds rapidly as Jaskier strokes him in time with his thrusts and Geralt rocks between the two sensations, breathing raggedly. He doesn't think he could ever tire of the way Jaskier feels under him, muscles shifting with each strong, smooth thrust up into him.

“I’m- fuck, m’close, Jask.” He finds it difficult to talk, especially when Jaskier’s other hand grips his hip tight and he can imagine the bruise it'll leave. Jaskier growls softly, his hand speeding up just a bit as he thumbs the head of Geralt's cock, making the other man groan. He wants to give another warning, say something, but heat boils in his gut as Jaskier's hips stutter, a faint whine coming from Jaskier. He's close, just as desperate, and Geralt works his hips in time with Jaskier, kissing him as his release hits him. Jaskier follows a heartbeat after, snarling softly and burying himself deep, lapping into Geralt's mouth as Geralt pants, moaning and sagging in his lap. His heartbeat thunders in his ears as he tucks his face into Jaskier’s neck, panting and moaning as Jaskier works him through his orgasm. His hand stills sooner than it usually would, and Geralt makes a soft little noise in his throat.

“Sorry I-” Jaskier’s voice is muffled, and despite having just come he’s still achingly hard inside of Geralt.

“Oh.” Geralt breathes, pulling back and looking closely at Jaskier. He looks- high for lack of a better word, cheeks flushed darkly and eyes half lidded. Geralt shifts in his lap, grinding down, and Jaskier moans, shuddering. “I don't want you to stop.”

Jaskier’s eyes meet his, and Geralt squeezes around Jaskier to goad him on. Jaskier snarls a warning, words scrambled in his throat, but Geralt is lifting up out of Jaskier’s lap and turning. He doesn’t get very far before Jaskier is crowding up against his back, a hand gripping the back of Geralt’s neck and pressing his chest down into the bed. Geralt goes without any resistance, trusting wholeheartedly in the man who’s got him pinned. The hand lingers for a moment, brushing Geralt’s hair out of the way before Jaskier kisses the spot. A hand guides Geralt’s hips a bit higher, and Geralt groans as Jaskier quickly seats himself back inside, teeth digging into the back of his neck without drawing blood. Geralt can feel his chest vibrate with the moan that falls from his lips, and Jaskier rumbles against his back, pleased. Jaskier’s hands are bruising on Geralt’s hips as he thrusts, fucking into Geralt with hardly a thought for anything else. The bed frame creaks perilously, protesting at Jaskier's strength, but Geralt pays it no mind, moaning as Jaskier angles his hips and slams very pointedly against his prostate.

Geralt can feel Jaskier’s come on his thighs when Jaskier pulls back, and he has a very sudden thought that Jaskier is going to keep stuffing him fuller and fuller. One of Jaskier’s hands slides down, tracing over Geralt’s scar and tickling at the soft skin of Geralt’s inner thigh. Geralt isn’t sure what he’s doing until Jaskier’s fingers dig in a bit, spreading him a bit wider, and Geralt whines as Jaskier presses just a bit deeper. Geralt can feel himself growing closer and closer, and he’s floating pleasantly on the edge when Jaskier’s hips still and warmth floods him. He moans, tightening around Jaskier and squeaking rather unbecomingly when Jaskier snatches at his hips.

“Sorry, you haven’t- I need-” Jaskier’s voice is deeper than Geralt has ever heard it, and Geralt shifts, arching his neck to the side. Jaskier’s nails dig into his skin, and his whole body goes still. He has the stillness of a predator, watching, waiting, and Geralt goes up onto his hands despite the way that Jaskier tries to press him back into the bed. It’s considerably harder to do now that Jaskier isn’t trying to hold back his own strength, but Geralt sits himself back in Jaskier’s lap and grinds down. His neck is still arched, and he eyes Jaskier, raising a brow as if to say what are you waiting for? “Geralt, you could-”

“Please.” Jaskier groans, the sound vibrating against Geralt’s back, and Jaskier doesn’t say anything else as he latches back onto Geralt’s neck. The witcher moans at the flash of pain that comes with the first draw, and he melts back against Jaskier as he drinks, hips grinding lazily up into Geralt.

He doesn’t seem as frenzied, though with each mouthful he takes Geralt’s head spins more and more and Jaskier throbs inside him. He can feel himself faintly getting sore, but Jaskier is so gentle, sipping from him slowly and rolling his hips up softly. Jaskier doesn’t do much more than that, but Geralt tenses in his lap and comes, untouched. Geralt feels Jaskier huff out a hot breath, and he twitches as Jaskier drags his fingers through the mess Geralt has made of his stomach. Geralt's eyelids flutter as he leans heavily back against Jaskier, and Jaskier pulls back, licking the wounds closed and humming into Geralt’s ear.

“You’re so good for me, love. You’ve taken me so well. Can you be good, just a little bit longer?” Geralt nods, but he’s drifting, head swimming, and Jaskier guides the both of them into a comfortable lying position on their sides. Geralt’s eyes close once his head hits the pillow, and he relaxes back into Jaskier’s chest when the man rolls his hips. Geralt’s cock gives a twitch, but he’s exhausted already from the blood loss and he isn’t going to get anywhere. Jaskier presses his face into Geralt’s shoulder, panting raggedly against his skin and whining when Geralt squeezes down around him. “So good, can you keep that up, darling?”

Geralt gives a tired little hum but does as Jaskier asks, tightening around Jaskier and moaning softly when Jaskier shudders. Jaskier drapes an arm around Geralt, tugging him so they’re flush together, and Geralt very nearly falls asleep then and there. He feels Jaskiers teeth in his skin, little dots of pain, but he isn’t drinking, merely leaving marks that heal quickly without Jaskier needing to do anything. The backs of his shoulders are quickly covered in the marks, and each tiny taste of blood has Jaskier’s hips rutting into him a little bit harder. Geralt slides a leg forward just a bit and Jaskier cries out against his back, hips snapping up at the way Geralt squeezes around him from the movement. Geralt smiles when Jaskier whimpers his name, hips rolling up and stuttering messily as he comes, filling Geralt up even more.

Jaskier pulls out of him slowly, as if unwilling to do so, but Geralt sighs at the reprieve, relaxing into the mattress as Jaskier pets his stomach. Geralt falls asleep to Jaskier murmuring sweet nothings against his shoulder, drifting in and out of consciousness. Jaskier slips away from him at some point in the night, and he’s woken briefly to drink a tea that frankly, tastes awful. He feels much better after drinking it, and Jaskier smiles, telling him it helps with blood loss. His pupils are still blown wide and his hands shake when he takes the cup, but he’s gentle and refuses to let Geralt do anything when he smells Jaskier’s arousal. Geralt falls back asleep and doesn’t wake until he hears a soft growl and senses Jaskier leave the bed.

He sits up in bed quickly at the noise, a hand shooting out to keep himself from falling over again when his head goes fuzzy at the sudden motion. The candles have burnt low, but Geralt sees Jaskier immediately, standing by the window and letting an early morning breeze blow across his skin. Geralt slips from bed, ignoring the way his hips twinge as he pads up behind Jaskier and wraps his arms around him. Jaskier freezes for an instant before he relaxes, sighing softly. “Can’t sleep?”

“Still coming down.” Geralt hums in surprise at that, and he holds Jaskier close with one hand, wrapping the other around Jaskier’s still-hard cock. Jaskier jerks in his arms, swearing, and Geralt strokes him slowly, nuzzling against Jaskier’s neck as he shudders. “Geralt…”

“Hmm?”

“If you don’t go back to sleep, you aren’t going to.” Jaskier warns, voice rough, and Geralt laughs softly. Jaskier’s hips jerk again as Geralt’s hand disappears briefly, coming back much slicker than before. Jaskier growls at the sensation and Geralt nips at his neck, smiling when Jaskier snarls dangerously. Geralt does it again, twisting his wrist at the same time, and Jaskier dissipates into smoke. It disorients Geralt for a second, but Jaskier reappears and grabs roughly at Geralt’s thighs. Geralt goes up into Jaskier’s arms easily, ankles locking behind Jaskier’s back as Jaskier lines up and lowers Geralt down onto his cock. Geralt gasps at the instant fullness, moaning when Jaskier’s teeth dig into his neck, anchoring him.

Jaskier takes him twice up against the wall, not actively drinking but driven by the taste of Geralt in his mouth. Geralt’s thighs cramp at holding his own weight, but Jaskier keeps him up when Geralt’s own strength fails, hips pinning him back against the wall and dragging moan after moan out of him. He’s sore in ways he’s never been before, but the pain lets him drift, mind hazy, and an orgasm rocks through him when Jaskier presses up into him and bites down harder, making Geralt’s hand tighten in his hair. Jaskier’s got him back in bed when he finally begins to come down, and Geralt watches the process with sleepy eyes. Jaskier sways, pupils constricting to pinpoints and something human coming back to his eyes slowly. His hands tremble when he gets a towel to wipe Geralt up, and Geralt draws him in to kiss him gently. His mouth tastes like blood, new and old, but Geralt has quickly grown used to the taste and he holds his love close until his body finally slows. Jaskier goes boneless in his arms all at once, exhausted, and Geralt hugs him close as the two of them drift off.

-*-

Geralt hears a crow cawing outside when he wakes up, the sun low in the sky. They’ve been locked away for more than a day, based upon the sunlight rapidly leaving them, and Geralt twitches his fingers to light the candles in the room. They’re practically nubs by now, but they’ll do as Geralt rises from bed. His knees give out briefly when he first stands, back protesting, but he gives himself a moment and then rises again. Jaskier is curled up on the bed, a hand idly searching for Geralt. He doesn’t find him, but he does grab a pillow and clutch it close, appeased by the scent Geralt has left on it. Geralt peers out the window at the crows lining the stone wall outside his house, and as soon as the first crow spots him the rest of them alight, flying off into the night. Regis must be checking in on them.

Geralt goes about drawing a bath, needing one desperately. He’s sticky from at least three different substances, and Jaskier is no better. There’s blood crusted around the corners of his mouth and smeared down the left side of his jaw and Geralt shakes his head fondly. Leave it to Jaskier to clean him up but not himself. Geralt’s back tries to protest any kind of movement, but the warm water will do wonders, and he shakes Jaskier’s shoulder gently. Jaskier blinks sleepily, and his eyes are bloodshot when he looks up at Geralt. He groans softly, burying his face back in the pillow, and Geralt coaxes his face back out. Geralt kisses him gently, and when he pulls away Jaskier chases him, not done with the kiss. Geralt uses this to get him up and out of bed, and the two of them climb into the tub, Jaskier settling in Geralt’s lap. He’s still half asleep, swaying back and forth with his eyes closed, but that’s fine with Geralt.

Geralt takes this time to wash Jaskier up, gently scrubbing the blood from Jaskier’s cheek and laughing when Jaskier grumbles. “Lemme help….”

Jaskier tries his best to wake up, but between Geralt’s scent and the warmth of the water Jaskier drifts off again. Geralt keeps him awake enough not to drown while he washes himself up, and he’s got Jaskier bundled against his chest, fast asleep when he smells a familiar mix of herbs and cologne.

“There is something known as knocking.” Geralt says in greeting, Regis laughing softly and padding over. His gaze is polite as he looks the two of them over, and he raises his brows at the state Jaskier is in.

“If it worked my friend, I think we would both do it much more often.” Regis’ gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the scene before him. There’s old blood on the sheets and the bed frame itself is in pieces. Hand sized chunks have been gouged into the wood of the headboard, and Geralt is rather proud of the destruction. Regis seems less so, but he shakes his head fondly. “You let him imbibe rather heartily.”

“That I did.”

“You two seem no worse for wear thankfully, though you’ve driven your majordomo half to worry. He knocked twice on the door before Jaskier scared him off.”

“How so?” Geralt has no doubt that Jaskier had a crow watching them for Regis when they began, not trusting himself fully. Regis perches on the chest against the far wall, resting his hands in his lap.

“A rather spectacular growl, I was told. Rumors have spread that you took the poor lad hostage, brute that you are.”

Geralt laughs- it should worry him more, but this is his home, and they can make whatever rumors they’d like. “So long as no one tries to burn me at the stake, I think I can live with it.”

“If that’s Regis, tell him to fuck off.” Jaskier mumbles suddenly, shifting in Geralt’s lap and sinking a bit deeper into the warm water. “My head is killing me.”

“With how much you drank, I’ve no doubt of that. Here.” Regis tosses a flask over to them, Geralt catching it nimbly and twisting the cap off. Whatever is inside is pungent and sharp, but Jaskier perks up and downs the flask quickly. He seems much, much better having drank whatever concoction Regis brewed up, and though his eyes are still bloodshot they’re clear and happy.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Jaskier turns to look at Regis over his shoulder, and the older man laughs, standing to take the flask back and tuck it into his belt.

“It would serve you well to be nice to me before I bring you gifts, Jaskier.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Geralt rolls his eyes at Jaskier's cheeky grin, but Regis shakes his head, ruffling Jaskier’s hair fondly and heading for the door. The lock clicks open easily, and he pauses in the doorway.

“I shall have to come back another night, when your staff has not been run off.”

“Tomorrow night, then.” Regis nods, ducking out of the room as Jaskier turns back to Geralt. His eyes linger on the bed for a moment, brows twitching into a momentary frown, but Geralt’s hands pet over Jaskier’s back, drawing his attention back. Jaskier’s gaze softens, and he tips forward, kissing Geralt softly and pressing their foreheads together. “You’re okay?”

“Sore. But good.” Jaskier leans back, tracing the small rings of teeth marks that trail down Geralt’s chest. There are identical ones on his back, but they aren’t bad enough to scar, and they’ll fade in time. Geralt’s neck is another matter in itself. There are at least four new scars on his neck alone, deep bites that overlap, but Geralt is moving his head just fine and he shivers when Jaskier traces each of them. Jaskier opens his mouth to apologize, but Geralt leans up and kisses him firmly on the lips, only pulling back when Jaskier keeps his mouth shut. “I like them.”

“Are you sure you didn’t lose too much blood? You aren’t hallucinating?”

“Fuck off.” Geralt’s tone is affectionate, and Jaskier laughs. He pulls the two of them from the rapidly cooling bathwater, steadying Geralt as they dry off. Geralt gets rid of the bathwater while Jaskier tidies their things, and Geralt’s brows go up when Jaskier comes out of the room carrying their clothes. Jaskier’s smile is sheepish, and he waves for Geralt to head up to the guest bedroom. Geralt does so with minimal protest, and only once Jaskier has deposited their clothes does he explain. Neither of them has bothered to get dressed, intent to spend the evening in bed.

“I- broke the bed, rather wonderfully. We’ll want to stay up here until they can deliver another one.”

“When was that again?”

“The first time I bit you. And the second. And the third.” Geralt laughs as Jaskier scowls, cheeks pink. “I told you it was hard to control myself like that!”

“You did fine. You didn’t break me at all.”

“Not for lack of trying.” Jaskier’s fingers trace over the dark hand shaped bruises running over Geralt’s hips and thighs, but Geralt shrugs, tugging Jaskier closer and kissing him softly. He recoils when he tastes the bitter, acrid tang of whatever hangover cure Jaskier was given, and it’s Jaskier’s turn to laugh.

“No kissing until you rinse your mouth out.” Jaskier pouts, leaning closer, but Geralt places a finger on Jaskier’s lips, pushing him back. “Go, and bring back something to snack on.”

“Pushy pushy.” Jaskier chides, disappearing down the stairs again. Geralt gets himself comfortable on the bed, idly tracing at the scars on his neck and shivering at the memory. He hears Jaskier coming up the stairs, footsteps intentionally heavy, and turns onto his side to watch him come in, carrying a tray laden with food. Geralt watches, humming as Jaskier comes over and rather elegantly crawls into bed, holding the tray in one hand and slipping under the covers to settle down beside Geralt. “Figured you might be hungry after not eating for a day.”

Geralt's stomach grumbles loudly in reply, and Jaskier laughs. Geralt tries to take something from the tray, but Jaskier tuts and seems intent to feed him. Geralt allows it after a moment, and Jaskier relaxes once Geralt’s gotten something of substance in him. Geralt’s voice is amused when he lays back among the pillows, Jaskier disposing of the tray and coming back to lay against Geralt’s side. “You like to take care of me.”

“Geralt, I drained you nearly dry and fucked you half to death.”

“At my insistence.” Jaskier rolls his eyes, but it’s obvious he would no matter what, and Geralt feels safer and happier than he has in a while. “Would you do it again?”

“You really don’t like your blood in your body, do you?”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #higher vampire jaskier #major sluttiness #this is all smut guys #please be forewarned #blood drinking

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flimflamfranky · 4 years ago

Text

Day 14 - Heat Exhaustion

Franky discovers a drawback to his cybernetics.

It was so hot.

Franky tugged at his shirt, trying to fan some air in there, as he followed Nami through the town. They had just landed on a new island, some small fishing village on the way Sabaody, for a quick pit spot. He and Nami both needed more ink and paper, so they had set out together.

(Nami also claimed it was to “curb his horrendous spending habits”, which, rude. He wasn’t that bad - he only barely went over the limit last time! But still, he didn’t mind the company.) It was supposed to a fun little outing - get out, stretch the legs, see the sights, pick up some supplies. Franky had been looking forward to it. It was nice to have quiet trips to land between all the adventuring. But apparently, this was also a summer island, and summer islands were hot. Too hot. How could everyone else stand it? His back felt it was drenched in sweat, and everyone else was walking around like it was a perfectly pleasant day! A fun outing, Franky bemoaned to himself. This was miserable.

Eventually, they got to what seemed to be a town square - it was a plaza, with benches and trimmed bushes, and a small fountain. Nami stopped to ask some locals where a stationary store would be and Franky immediately narrowed on the fountain. Water! Cool, refreshing water! He rushed over, and sprawl out as much as possible, leaning back into the faint spray of water with a relieved sigh. He briefly considered just jumping in, but he’d definitely get chewed out by Nami. He did stick a foot in there, though, and ignored the weird looks he got from the locals. “Wow, tired already?” Nami teased as she joined him. “You’re such an old man.” “I ain’t that old!” Franky protested. And then he looked at her, confused. “Aren’t you hot, too?” He asked, waving to her outfit. It was a smart outfit - colorful buttoned up shirt and khakis - but Franky broke out into another sweat just looking at it. “No?” Nami said, looking down at herself. “It feels fine to me.” “That ain’t fair. I’m over here sufferin’, and you’re fine and dandy.” Franky wiped at the sweat on his brow. “I swear, Water 7 never got this hot.” “Yeah, because of all the water,” Nami said, smirking. “You’re just not used to this kinda heat.” Franky grumbled a vague protest, and glared up at the sun. Well, squinted vaguely in its direction, but still. “If it’s bothering you,” Nami said. “I can go by myself-“ “No, no!” Franky forced himself up. “It’s fine. I can handle it.” “Well, alright,” Nami said, and she pointed down one of the streets. “That lady said there was a shop down this way that sold ink and papers.” Franky gestured for her to lead the way, and followed her at a brisk pace. He wasn’t about to let some measly heat get the best of him! He’d just tough it out. Maybe he’d even get use to it, after some exposure. Either way, he could totally handle it. Everything was going to be fine. ~ Everything was not fine. If anything, it got worse. It felt like his cola was boiling inside of him. The store hadn’t helped matters - it had been stifling inside without the light breeze. He had to leave the whole transaction up to Nami. Not that she would’ve allowed otherwise, but he had barely been able to focus on even picking out some paper. He was having a lot of trouble with that, focusing. It was like he was in haze, like his brain was melting into a puddle of goo. He felt heavy. Lethargic. It super sucked. At least they were heading back to the Sunny, now. He can handle that, no problem. “Franky?” “Huh?” Franky looked down to see Nami peering up at him. The look on her face made hin suspect she’d been calling him for a while. Oops. She squinted at him, face drawn into a frown. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Franky waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Honest.” “You don’t look fine,” Nami said, unimpressed. “Come on, we can go sit somewhere until-“ “No!” Franky said, stubbornly. He wasn’t gonna give up because of a little heat! “I can...make to back to the Sunny.” “Ugh, why are you guys always so stubborn? You don’t have to push yourself like this!” “I’m not-“ Franky cut off as he stumbled over his feet, just barely catching himself before he ate dirt. “Woah, hey!” Nami was sounded panicked now. Crap. He didn’t want to worry her. “It’s fine.” Franky tried say. He felt strangely breathless. “I must’ve just...tripped over somethin’...” “No, that excuse won’t work on me,” Nami snapped as she reached out to steady him. “You should really- Ah!” Her hands had rested on his arm, but she immediately withdrew, shaking her hands. “Jeez, you’re burning up!” Franky blinked at the ground, hard. Something was beginning to feel wrong. Wrong with his cybernetics, wrong. He thought it was just the heat, but there was something else, he could feel it. He...needed to get back to the Sunny. Now. He opened his mouth to tell Nami that, but his tongue felt heavy and he couldn’t get his breathing right. He...he needed to get up. He forced himself up, hands out to steady himself. His eyes snapped to the horizon, and for a moment everything was good, but then, almost in slow motion, everything began tilting, going all sideways, and that was weird- “Franky!” Oh, he was on the ground again. That wasn’t right. He needed to get up. To...the Sunny. That’s right. He tried to get up, but his limbs wouldn’t respond right. It was like he was moving through oil. Someone was standing over. Hands hovering. Orange hair. Nami. He couldn’t worry her. He needed to get up. He needed- ~ Franky woke to a headache. The dull throb almost shocked him awake, pulling him from a hazy half-asleep state. Then he became uncomfortably aware of other things - a scratchy throat, clammy skin, cramping muscles. He winced. “Franky?” Franky cracked on eye open. The glaring light hurt, but he was able to make out Chopper hovering over him, holding something. He tried to say something but his mouth was too dry and his throat was too sore so all that came out was a pathetic wheeze. “Can you sit up? You need to drink this water.” Franky scowled at the thought of moving, but he did shuffled up into a vaguely vertical position, helped by Chopper’s gentle hands. Then, a glass of water was pushed into his hand. “Drink. Slowly, please.” Franky nodded absently, and took a small sip. The cool relief was almost instantaneous, and Franky found himself draining the whole thing in one go. “I said slowly!” Chopper yelled, wacking him lightly on the arm. “Sorry,” Franky mumbled, weakly, handing the glass back. Chopper refilled it, and passed it back. Franky drank, slowly this time, taking measured sip under Chopper’s stern watch, until Chopper deemed him hydrated enough. Once he handed the glass back, Franky slumped back down, feeling exhausted. Had just drinking water drained him that much? Yeesh. Chopper hovering over him. “Do you remember what happened?” Franky furrowed his brow in thought. “Yeah, I went shopping with Nami, and is was super hot. Too hot. And I...fainted?” At Chopper’s confirming nod, Franky groaned. “That’s embarrassing.” “It’s concerning, that’s what it is!” Chopper said, his voice going even more squeaky. “You almost had a heatstroke!” “Oh.” Franky blinked. “Is that bad?” “Yes!!!” Chopper wailed. “You could’ve died!” “Oh.” Franky winced, and sunk down further into the pillow. “I...I didn’t think it was that bad...” Chopper wiped at his nose with a sniffle, and gave him a glare. “Nami said you were being stubborn.” Ah, and there was that guilt. He’d gone and sacred everyone, hadn’t he? “I’m sorry,” He said. Then, he remembered, vaguely, Nami panicking over him, and...burning herself? “Is Nami alright?” “She’s fine,” Chopper said. “A little shaken, but fine. She got Luffy to bring you back here.” Franky sighed in relief, and he grimaced. “Ugh. She’s gonna super chew me out later, isn’t she?” “Yes. And you’ll deserve it,” Chopper said. “And I’ll deserve it,” Franky repeated, resigned. He settled further down into the pillow with a deep sigh. There was a moment of silence before Chopper spoke up again. “You know you don’t have to prove anything to us, right?” Chopper said, worrying his hooves together. “We wouldn’t think any less of you.” “Yeah, I know,” Franky said, reaching out to give Chopper a pat on the hand. “It just seemed like such a little thing to brought low by, ya know? And honestly,” Franky chuckled sheepishly. “I thought, being a cyborg n all, I wouldn’t be effected by these sorts of things as much.” “I suppose that makes sense.” Chopper said, reaching up to grab Franky’s hand. Franky let his hand slide down so Chopper could hold it easier. “I have a theory, actually.” “Yeah?” “Yeah!” Chopper nodded. “You were really hot to the touch, earlier, your metal. And, I’ve noticed, you tend to run hotter than everyone else. I think, maybe; your cybernetics caused you to overheat faster than normal.” “Yeah,” Franky sighed. “That’s my theory, too. Means I gotta lot of work ahead of me.” Chopper titled his head, confused. “Eh?”

“I’ve already got a coolant for my fridge, so I just need to beef up that system and rewire it through my body.” Franky chewed at his lip, pensive. “This’ll probably happen in cold weather too, so I should probably add a heating system as well...Gotta figure out how to make it automatic, but manual wouldn’t hurt either...”

He trailed off when he felt Chopper grip his hand tighter, and he looked to down to see Chopper getting teary-eyed again.

“You can fix this?” Chopper asked, blinking up at him.

“Well, yeah, bro,” Franky said, patting Chopper’s check. “Wouldn’t even be that hard, really.”

Chopper slumped against his hand, letting out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear!”

“I really worried you, huh?”

“It was hard not to be,” Chopper said. “I’m not exactly a mechanic, ya know.”

“Oh. Yeah, I could see that being a problem.” Franky let his hand relax, held up by Chopper’s grip, as he yawned. “I can teach ya a few things. If ya want.” “I’d like that,” Chopper said, with a wobbly grin. Then he sniffled, and put on his stern doctor face. “But first! You need to rest more! I shouldn’t have kept you up so much!”

“I don’t mind,” Franky said, grinning, even though he did feel exhausted. “I’m not taking medical opinion from you, Mister-Ignore-My-Symptoms.” Chopper bopped him gently on the head. “Now rest!”

Franky chuckled, but he settled further into the bed, making himself comfortable. “Aye, aye, Doctor.”

#one piece #opfanfic #franky #cyborg franky #whumptober2020 #no.14 #heat exhaustion #fainting #nami #chopper #wow this one really got away from me whoops #it's like...six pages??#franky and chopper just would not stop talking #my stuff #thepilotsfic #no shirt no shoes no service #whump

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