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lijojo · 2 years ago

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genshin sugar daddies: leaving hickeys on you

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for each day of the week. it’s a bit overwhelming, but you try you’re best to keep each relationship relatively independent from the other. that means no hickeys. except, well, each one of them wants to make you theirs exclusively and they’re not above marking you secretly to send a message to tomorrow’s person. (yandere! possessive! genshin reverse harem x reader) (modern au!)

*if you want more yandere genshin sugar daddy content the introduction is here but this can be a standalone read!

tags: nsfw, dark content, afab reader, fingering, dirty-talk, unprotected sex, dub-con, smut smut smut smut smut

diluc is no stranger to jealousy. you can sense it in the way his eyes constantly beckon for yours. the way he grips tightly onto your waist. he never asks anything more than your gaze on monday evenings. they have to be on him. always. not for a second more are you allowed to look at anything else but him. he’s greedy, always pulling you to look at him once more. naturally, his gaze is always on you.

you feel it drag up and down your back. crawl into the little dip in your neckline to see what’s underneath your clothes.

so the one time, the one time, kaeya’s crafty attempts to leave hickeys on your folds and inner thighs in the midst of eating you out, diluc catches it.

he sees it the moment he peels off your panties. what should’ve been a slow sequence of him sinking his tongue into your pussy is immediately halted at the sight of a very small but noticeable bruise in the juncture between your thighs and your labia minora.

kaeya’s warning.

the change in his demeanor is undeniable. his heavy gaze flits over to your face. intentful. unaware of the hickey, you’re understandably confused.

if diluc’s seen something, he doesn’t tell you. instead, he internalizes the sight. it’s a warning and a challenge.

mine.

he’s quick to grab onto your wrists and pin them above your head. before you can brace yourself, he’s slipped a finger inside you. you gasp at the sudden intrusion, but welcome him as he curls his finger towards him, gently brushing against that spongy spot that leaves you breathless.

he chuckles lightly as you roll your eyes back. his thumb presses on your clit, nudging it side to side. “you’re soaking wet,” he mutters, sliding another two fingers inside you. “all for me?”

your hold on the sheets tightens.

he leans closer to your ear. “i can’t wait to smear the remnants of your orgasm on my cock. make it slick enough to slip inside you. make you feel good. we want my darling to feel really good, right?”

you hiss when he starts thrusting his fingers into you at rapid speed. desperate. eager to make you spill your affection onto his hands.

“that wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.”

you can’t help the moan that leaves you as you approach your climax. “y-yes! yes—ah—diluc!”

his grin looks so unlike him. his thumb starts to draw circles on your clit, going quicker and quicker the more you squirm and moan.

“cum on me. do it for me, princess. cum all over my hand. give me all your everything.”

you can barely understand the undertone in his words. instead, you reach your high. your orgasm pours out of you, onto his beckoning fingers. and instead of letting you go, he continues mercilessly until your left whining for him to stop.

and he does. eventually. he slowly pulls his digits out of your crying cunt. he collects the droplets that trickle out of your lower lips and let’s it drip onto his twitching dick. he runs his hands along his shaft, letting out a shaky groan.

“look how pretty you’ve made me. this is all you, darling.”

he fucks you like it’s he’ll die if he doesn’t. blinded by the mixture of pain and pleasure, you close your eyes and submit to the feeling of overwhelming bliss.

you’re so overwhelmed, that you don’t register how he’s kissing your neck like a man on a mission.

დ

the two of you are in the middle of a normal tuesday brunch when childe sees it. when you turn to accept the menu from the waiter, he can see the slightest marks that you couldn’t hide, even with the most expensive foundation.

you curse internally when you see his eyes narrow in on you. you should’ve known better than to ever believe that diluc would ever follow one of your only rules: no hickeys.

and now childe, notoriously competitive, will feel compelled to have his fill.

you should’ve worn a scarf.

you thought that the position of the hickey, and the slight fadedness your foundation was barely able to provide would’ve been enough. you were wrong.

like a built-in reflex, you smile. “what’s the matter? is there something wrong?”

he gives you a smile, an all-knowing smile as he takes the menu from you. “nothing is wrong at all, girlie. i’m just admiring that new necklace i bought you.”

you’re good at pretending nothing’s wrong, so you fiddle the crystals with your hand. “i love the way it shimmers,” you add, “i love how sparkly you’ve made me.”

if you’ve done anything to settle his displeasure, he doesn’t show it. instead, he averts his eyes to the menu. you know better than to believe that nothing bad will come out tonight.

for the rest of the night, he engages in small talk with you. about the weather. a new store that’s just opened up. some story about some poor guy who borrowed more money than he could ever give back. the thought makes you tighten your grip on your fork.

when you get back to his penthouse, he’s quick to strip you of your luxurious gown and all of it’s accompanied gold accents. when you reach to take off the necklace that decorates your neck, he stops you.

“keep it on,” he whispers, his hand crawling up your thigh to grip your ass. “wanna fuck you looking so pretty in my jewelry. wanna make you shine with sweat as pretty as those gems.”

“oh really?” you retort, sliding your hand between the two of your bodies and cupping his sex. he groans as you run your fingertips down his groin. “wanna make me shine with your cum?”

“yes,” he gasps. in the heat of the moment, his eyes catches the faint outline of diluc’s mark just below your jaw. overtaken by some primal instinct, he presses your waist against him. “you’re letting all those side-fucks give you hickeys?”

his words almost make you want to freeze. but you’re quick to resume back to normal, to pretend that those words don’t phase you. that you don’t hear the implications in the undertones of his voice.

it’s worse if you tell him it was unintentional.

“it’s a new development.” you tug at his hair as he digs his face into the crook of your neck. “you get only one.”

you need to have the upper hand. in a sea of seven men who are constantly demanding things from you, you have to take what you’re dealt with and do something before they overtake you.

he grins. “you’re such a tease. which motherfucker left this on you?”

you know better than to tell him. everyone knows that there’s seven who you’re regularly seeing. but they don’t know the names—not the order. you know better than to give names. these men are as powerful as they are rich, you wouldn’t do anything that’d upset the city’s dynamics.

so you avoid the question, like you’ve always done.

“i can think of better ways you can use that mouth, other than asking silly questions.”

his brow twitches, but he doesn’t do anything else to push you. instead, he smiles into your neck. “only one?”

“only one,” you confirm.

he doesn’t hesitate to take off your necklace. his hands dive to the back of your neck to unclip it and toss it to the side. you let out a yelp in surprise when it clangs onto the coffee table.

“i’ll buy you a better one,” he says in-between open-mouthed kisses on your jawline. “fuck, i’ll buy you a thousand more.”

he sinks down to your collarbone. “’been dreaming of this. my girl, my pretty, pretty girl, wearing reminders of me.”

♡

the two of you are in the comfort of kazuha’s home. wednesdays are reserved for writing, and like always, you’re pinned under his watchful gaze while he writes his thoughts away in his notebook.

with every few scrawls, he peeks over the paper to steal glances at you. you hum, pretending to be blissfully aware. you’re just here as his muse.

as of this moment, you snuggle into your comfortable place in the back of his study, leaning against the window that expands to his backyard that oversees the sunrise and sunset. your own notebook rests on your thighs, your knees pressed close enough to your chest to allow you to write smoothly. kazuha sits across from you, his feet sometimes brushing against yours. if you laid your legs out straight, no doubt that the balls of your feet would meet his waist.

he keeps stealing glances at you. has been for the past hour. no matter how much you try to focus on your own poems, you can’t brush away the feeling of being watched.

his eyes are impeccable, and can spot the marks that occasionally peak underneath your scarf when you move a certain away.

“you let them mark you?” he asks out of the blue. not accusatorily, per se, but you can detect the edge in his voice.

the corners of your lips perk unnaturally. the moment you’d been dreading since you woke up had arrived. you let your eyes soften, as if it could soothe kazuha by any means. with a gentle hand, you reach out to softly grasp his hand that tightens around the edge of his notebook. it’s something he accepts readily, enveloping your hand with his.

“i was meaning to talk to you about this, kazu,” you say tenderly. “it’s just something i’m trying out. everyone gets one. see if everyone’s okay with it.”

kazuha doesn’t say anything. his gaze is fixated on your intertwined hands. “my love, they mark your skin like animals.”

you smile like it’s no trouble. because that’s what you need him to believe. you feel like kazuha’s a loose thread. tug him in the wrong direction, the wrong idea, and he’ll undo the entire sweater.

“it’s only going to be seven,” you reply, trying to lessen the tension.

“it’s better if there’s just one,” he retorts gingerly. “they aren’t gentle at all, are they?”

you don’t like the way his eyes sweep over your entire figure. you hold back a shudder, feeling as if a ghost had just passed through you.

“they are,” you mumble, although you can hardly say it’s true. “don’t you worry kazu, i can handle myself.”

your line of sight flits back to your intertwined hands; he lets go, instead running the pads of his fingers down the back of your hands before settling on your wrist. his hold is firm. it’s not tight enough to cause you pain, but not gentle enough to let you pull away.

“i’m sure you do, love,” he mutters. but the way he says it makes it seem as if he doesn’t believe you.

his eyes connect with yours intently.

the rustle of your clothes shuffling echoes through the quiet study as he pulls your wrist towards his mouth. in doing so, you’re forced to lean forward. his eyes never leave you, not when he presses a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“they just want you for your body,” he says, more to himself than you. “they don’t love you at all. everything would be so much better if you just dropped them. let me take care of it. take care of it all.”

you don’t say anything back. he doesn’t want you to. and even if you did, it wouldn’t be something he’d want to hear. you have bills to pay. you have enemies a wealthy poet wouldn’t be able to defend you from on his own.

his tongue slides out of his mouth to lick a long strip up your wrist, all while looking at you. he presses open-mouthed kisses in the same spot, sucking and nibbling with purpose. in-between kisses, his tongue draws letters on the expanse of your skin in a sentence you’ve begun to fear.

A L L M I N E

დ

when spring comes, tighnari will sometimes give you hickeys. he’ll do it in the heat of the moment in a passionate rut. he can’t think of anything else but you. how perfect you are for him. how beautiful. how you belong to him.

while he drives his cock into you the only way he knows how, his lips will find their place in the crook of your neck. on the curve of your breasts. on the plush of your thighs. he’ll kiss you like you’re his air.

he’ll whimper into your skin. in that moment, you’re powerless to stop him. his pace is godspeed, pummeling into you like you’re his lifeline. driven to leave his white reminders of his love and devotion into your aching pussy. you can barely hold yourself up steadily. your fingers tremble. overcome with an insurmountable high, you can’t push him away as he leaves hickeys all over your body.

it’s not to send a message to everyone, per se, but to express the feelings he’d been keeping pent up during autumn, winter, and summer. the overwhelming infatuation and adoration he feels for you.

his pension for leaving nonstop hickeys on you starts to settle on the fourth day. and by the end of the week-long rut, they’ve faded just enough that you can cover it up with foundation and expensive jewelry.

but when he’s not blinded by his sexual desperation during the spring, it’s a different story.

it’s a perfectly fine thursday mid-afternoon in the comfort of tighnari’s study when he sees it.

he catches a glimpse of kazuha’s kiss on your wrist when you pass a cup of tea to him. your sleeves ride up just a bit under the beaming sun. you notice too, and are quick to pull back. but it’s too late. the moment he’s set down the cup he’s grabbing onto your wrist and pulling back the sleeve. “what’s this?”

you’re tempted to let out a breath of relief that he didn’t notice the hickey that barely rested on the edge of your collar. when you donned on the turtleneck sweater, you feared that he’d notice it if it slipped down and grow even more livid.

just play it off. pretend. if you’re lucky, by the end of this week, you’ll end up with only six hickeys.

“oh, i must’ve bumped into something.”

tighnari scowls. “this doesn’t seem like an ordinary bruise. how’d you get it?”

you’re scrambling for a believable response. “i was leaning back onto the counter and didn’t realize the corner was there.”

he chuckles. “clumsy you.” his forefinger inches up the slightest bit to press on it.

you wince. subsequently, your entire body tenses. this isn’t like those times where you can lie sweetly to him whenever he asks for you to stay for good. this isn’t like one of those times you can charm your way out of a situation. the way he looks at you is knowing. feral.

“i wasn’t born yesterday, love,” he hisses. “i know a hickey when i see one, especially when i leave them on you every spring.”

the way he kisses you after is rougher than usual. desperate. needy. aggressive. he presses into you, his tail wagging tentatively. he brings your arms to wrap around his neck. his tongue caresses your own, exploring your mouth like it’s a new discovery. a new treasure trove.

he whimpers into the kiss, his little squeaks and moans muffled by his need to devour you.

you close your eyes and let yourself get swept up with the pacing. to get distracted by him. you hardly register the time pass before the two of you are naked, your clothes strewn across the floor in his bedroom.

your back is pressed against his chest, your ass hugging his dick while he slides his hand down the valley between your breasts, stopping to pinch your nipple until it hardens. his other hand is left to its own devices, settling on your waist.

his fingers find themselves in the comfort of your pussy. he whimpers at how amazing you feel around his fingertips. how every time he pulls in and out, there’s squelching noises that almost overtake his little whines and yelps. every time he pushes his fingers back in, your ass presses a little closer to his dick.

he moans like you’re the one pleasuring him. like he’s on the cusp of euphoria, only silencing himself to press open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder.

“it’s m-my turn,” he says in-between whines. “m-my pretty l-little pet.”

დ

when alhaitham gets home after a long week of working, all he wants to do is relax in warmth of your embrace. friday is his reward.

he eats dinner as always, asking you questions in-between bites while delivering long stares that still make you feel like you’re being researched. but this week, instead of insisting you two spend quality time together reading on the couch, he coaxes you into the bedroom.

he groans into the kiss, pressing you to the wall as he helps you out of your clothes. but when he opens his eyes to admire your body, he doesn’t like what he sees.

he lets out an unamused chuckle. his hand brushes over your shoulder. “what’s this?”

you try to speak, but he cuts you off with another kiss. when you gasp in surprise, his tongue dives into your mouth.

he leaves you breathless; his pace is rough, almost angry.

“what a bad girl you are,” he seethes, “letting all those bastards touch you like that? bruise your pretty, pretty skin?”

he doesn’t let you talk. he envelops your opportunity to reply with his relentless kisses. he presses harder into your mouth, your teeth almost gnashing together. it’s almost painful, as if he wished to bind you two together.

“every friday is my solace, my holiday, didn’t you know?”

you gasp for air. “i-”

“i’m not done yet.” he brings his lips to yours for another hungry kiss. “every week i work so hard so i can see you, cherish you, and this is how you repay me? i thought you were my good girl.”

he chuckles darkly. “but you’re just a bad apple, aren’t you? i’ll have to fix that.”

he continues to kiss you. to ravish you with his mouth. he swallows your moans, his hands eagerly exploring your body like it’s his first time. and like always, his hands find their place on your chest.

“i’ve always loved your breasts: the way they curve, the way they sway so sweetly every time you arch your back for me, how your nipples perk up with every caress of mine.” he flicks one and you yelp.

“those imbeciles really have no intelligence at all.” he licks a long stripe in-between the valley of your breasts. “your body is a canvas.”

his eyes connect with yours, beckoning your gaze. a silent connection, a guarantee that you’re looking at him. at what he’s doing. at what he’s making you feel.

he stares at you attentively, and once again you feel like you’re being studied. every gasp that comes from your lips. every twitch of your brows. every time your eyelids flutter is under his watchful gaze like it’s the only thing his sight is for. like he’s a scientist researching the cure to his very own hunger.

his lips find purchase just on the edge of your areola, sucking intently. “to mark you is a form of art.”

he relishes in the way you shudder. but he needs more.

with one hand on your waist, his other comes up to fondle your other breast, craving for more reaction.

“only idiots wouldn’t be able to realize it.”

დ

unlike all of the other saturdays, where you’re probably swept up in the grand scheme of things (attending formal events, meeting politicians, or shopping like ayato’s wallet depended on it), you’re lounging in ayato’s home office on a calm evening.

the two of you decided to end things a bit earlier today and relax a bit. and by that, you suggested to spend some quality time alone so that you didn’t need to walk anymore. although you prided yourself on stamina and tolerance to soreness, even you couldn’t keep up after just about a week of aggressive men fucking their jealousy into you.

“it was hot today,” ayato mutters lazily as he gently runs his fingers through your hair. your head rests on the plush of his thigh, just as he likes it. “are you sure that you’re comfortable in that turtleneck, love?”

you curl into yourself a little bit more, tugging the collar up. “yes, i’m perfectly fine.”

you’re not fine. you’ve been sweating up a storm underneath your sweater but you were adamant on ending this week with six hickeys instead of seven. your stubbornness refused you the pleasure of ice-cold showers to wash away how your clothes burned you.

he pouts. “are you sure? you look awfully uncomfortable, dear. you can take a shower in my bathroom, if you’d like.” he smiles. “i won’t look, promise.”

you turn to look at him, contemplating. on one hand, you don’t believe anything good will come out of undressing in ayato’s house. you don’t believe his promise, either. if you knew him any better, he’d walk into the shower on the grounds of saving water, where he’d see all the hickeys imbued into your skin. while diluc, childe, and kazuha’s marks were getting a little faded, you doubt you could somehow explain alhaitham and tighnari’s hickeys.

but on the other hand, you’d been in this sweater for a whole day already. and your skin was started to get irritated. you felt gross with all of the sweat you’d accumulated. maybe five minutes wouldn’t hurt.

you smile like there’s nothing to worry about. like you’re an adoring lover. like you’re whoever ayato wants you to be. you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he warmly receives.

“okay. i’ll be back soon.”

he chuckles as you get up from his lap to head to the shower. you had to be quick.

you all but run to the bathroom once you’re out of sight. you head to ayato’s bedroom where some of your clothes are. dresses, lingerie, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, and all other items of clothing he’s ever bought you hang neatly in his closet. you pluck whatever seems practical and make a break for the shower.

you slip off the diamond ring he’d given you months ago. you all but slam it onto the counter, relieved your ring finger can breathe for once.

the quicker you take, the more likely you can shower without incident.

but the moment you’ve stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped secure around your torso, to your horror, the door opens.

“hey, love, i was wondering—”

just before you can close the door shut on him, his eyes connect to the discoloring on your shoulder.

regardless of his discovery, you move to usher him out. but mid-way, your feet are halted in the middle of the bathroom floor. the words are crawling in your mouth. you want to tell him that you’d like to shower in peace, tell it to him teasingly, but you don’t think you can.

that’s not what he wants. that’s not what pays the bills.

you offer a tight-lipped smile. “like what you see?”

he paces towards you, caressing your shoulder. he leans closer to you, examining the color, the shape, the size. “hm, so that’s how they want to play this game,” he whispers, ignoring your question entirely.

his hands gently tug at your towel. he smiles. “won’t you open up for me, love?”

he guides your hands as you drop the towel, revealing alhaitham’s mark.

“hm.” he looks at you as if he’s silently critiquing an art piece. “i see what’s going on here.”

he takes the ring that you left behind on the counter and works to slide it slowly onto your finger again. “you almost forgot to wear the symbol of our love, dear.”

“oh, it must’ve slipped my mind.” it’s like there’s cotton in your mouth. your throat feels dry.

he chuckles at that. “poor thing. my poor lover can be so forgetful.”

his eyes drift down to your chest.

he presses a kiss above your breasts, where your heart is.

“she almost forgets that she’s mine.”

დ

even if he’s your designated sunday, if you aren’t careful enough, kaeya will create a week full of trouble for you.

when he eats you out, he becomes pussy-drunk. he kisses your lower lips like it’s his prize. his reward for working so hard this week. his tongue runs up your pussy to your clit in a slow, deliberate stroke.

when he reaches your clit, he lets his mouth mold over your nub. he licks at it gently, cherishing it like it’s his only rose on a lonely valentine’s day.

he makes love to you like he’s reached his happily ever after. his lewd slurping overshadows the shuffling of the sheets, your moans. when he dips his tongue into your cunt, he whimpers.

his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place. even when you’re overstimulated, begging for a break, he won’t let you go. he savors the way you tremble so cutely under his touch. how your cum leaks out of you in small streams after your fifth release. he’s immersed in your cunt, yearns to make out with your lower lips while his nose nudges at your clit.

it’s too much. the feeling of your climax is so overwhelming.

he wants you to feel this euphoria, to remind you of how he feels every time he looks at you.

he wants you so much. so fucking much it hurts him when he can’t see you. when he can’t hold you. when he can’t be with you like a real lover. he needs you like he needs air. he needs to feel you wrapped around him to give him life. to give him purpose.

that’s why when you’re so swept up in the feeling of a constant climax, when your legs feel numb, he gets so carried away.

if you don’t catch him in time, kaeya will leave secretive hickeys along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your folds. he needs the others to know he’s staking his claim.

to know he’s making you feel so good that there’s definitive proof.

at the end of the week, when you see him again after seven days of trying to calm down the jealous storm among your seven sugar daddies, he’ll grin.

it’s that same devious smirk he gives you at candlelight dinners, except it isn’t one to mask his vulnerabilities with charisma and one-liners. it’s one to tell you that he knows exactly what he’s done.

he knows what he wants, and he’s finally had enough of the fucking waiting.

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the-thing-withfeathers · 8 months ago

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exceeded caution part 3

promise to keep

series masterlist | previous part | next part

a/n: okayyyy part 3 y’all here u go

pairing: ex!tara carpenter x f!reader into sam carpenter x f!reader

warnings: violence (stabbing), character deaths, blood, mention of ambulances, mention of car accidents, mention of past injuries. 3.6k words.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you had just been attacked. now was not the time to be thinking of sam carpenter's smile. or her eyes. or her tan skin and dark hair and her smile, her smile, her smile—

ding! a text. you looked over at your phone.

or her.

“thank you for the other day.” her message notification popped up on your screen. “you didn’t have to stand up for tara and i.”

“it’s okay, sam.” you replied at the speed of light. “i’m sure you and tara didn’t need any more of that. you’re already burdened with so much.”

“let me say thank you.” she sent and paused for a second, the three dots moving erratically as she typed. “dinner? just the two of us?”

“is that safe?” you questioned. you knew it was probably best that you both stayed indoors.

“it’ll just be at my place, tara’s staying at the twins’ tonight.” oh.

you felt like a dirty criminal. tara was your ex-girlfriend. you two were trying to be friends again, would this sabotage everything? if you were to pursue your feelings towards her sister?

but you couldn’t say no, you wanted to dip your toes in freezing cold water.

“okay. i’m down for that. what time do you want me to be there?”

or jump straight in.

“see you at six.”

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you knocked on the apartment door at exactly five past six. you realised you were a little late but you wanted to dress nice and look presentable.

the door creaked open, a cautious action by sam.

“hey...” she said, smiling now that she realised it was you.

“i should put a peephole on your door.” you chuckled softly, “maybe you’d be a little less nervous to answer.” you entered the apartment with your hands in your pockets.

she returned your laughter and nodded. “that would honestly help a lot, i think i should look into that.”

“or look out of it.” you joked, nudging her slightly. she rolled her eyes at you but couldn’t stop the smile that grazed her face.

“that was terrible.” she said, making her way to the kitchen.

“i know. but it made you smile.” you tried your hand at being a flirt, you didn’t know how it settled with her as she was facing away from you. but she didn’t stop you.

she turned back around, holding a pasta bake in her hands. “come on, let’s eat.” she jerked her head towards the dinner table.

you followed behind her and moved a chopping board closer to her so she could put the hot baking dish down.

“this smells amazing, sam.” you inhaled its aroma. “i’m really sad i missed your cooking week.”

“hey, we’re making up for it now.” she shrugged, grabbing a spatula to create a portion for you and serve it up on a plate. “here.”

“thanks.” you squeezed her shoulder when she handed it to you.

“yeah.” she whispered just under her breath as a response. she portioned some for herself and sat at the head of the table. you were sat just to her left. you found the seating to her intimate, it was better than her sitting across from you.

and yet, it was too far away.

you waited for her to start eating before you did.

“oh! did you want something to drink?” she asked suddenly, putting her fork down and standing up.

“sure. what do you have?” you turned around to watch her walk to the kitchen.

“i was gonna offer wine. or just alcohol in general.” she suggested, opening the cupboard that held it.

“sure. i’ll drink what you’re drinking.” you nodded, taking another bite of the pasta.

she came back a few seconds later with two wine glasses. you took one from her hand and sipped carefully. you weren’t exactly a wine person but you could appreciate the dose of alcohol.

“oh! this is good.” you commented, surprising yourself.

“it was like 20 dollars.” sam shrugged it off. “but it’s good, i do like it.”

“i’ll have to pick it up one day.” you put the glass down on its coaster.

you two ate quietly for a few minutes then sam broke the silence.

“how are you doing?” sam stopped poking at her food to ask the question.

“i’m… i dunno, actually.” you found that honestly was a pattern you stuck to with sam. she was always honest with you about how she felt and you never held back in returning the favor. “i never thought i’d find myself in a predicament like this— i don’t think anyone expects it, really.”

“you’re right, yeah.” she nods at you while taking another bite. “i wanted to call you and check in on you but tara has been busy trying to do schoolwork so i figured you were doing the same amount of work.”

“i am, yeah. i don’t know how she can focus so well though— i’m having trouble.” you confessed. “i’d never been the studious type anyways.”

“really?” sam raised her eyebrows at you. “you seem studious. like school work comes easy to you.”

your face slowly started to turn hot at the compliment. you hoped the concealer you had on was enough to hide it.

“well, i like school. it’s the assignments that get me. i like sitting in class and learning, but when it comes to writing 5000 word papers? that’s a different story.” you leaned back in your chair a little to sip your wine.

“fair enough.” sam chuckled softly. “although, i’d love to read 5000 words if they came from your mind.”

flirting?! was she flirting?!

what could you even say back to that? you often forgot that you were just dating sam’s younger sister. the forgotten thought was clouded by the fact that maybe you had chosen the wrong carpenter in the first place.

“oh… i’m sure you wouldn’t…” you stuttered out, talking over your food as an effort to hide your shy tone.

“i’m sure you’ve got an interesting mind.” sam leaned a little closer to you.

“you’re too kind, sam.” you sighed out.

“you are too.” she retorted back. “kindness is rare nowadays, i’ve been lucky enough to find it in you.”

her words were like string. wrapping around your heart and clenching it. samantha carpenter was getting to you. you felt your stomach drop when she spoke to you.

and yet, it felt so sinful.

“anyways—“ she cut through the silence. “i’m grateful you stayed with us even after the attack.”

“i dunno… i mean… i can’t say it was a new feeling, being so close to dying. but it was fucking terrifying trying to run away from someone with the intention of killing me.” you said. it almost felt too casual, the way you dropped that information on her.

“close to dying?” she asked.

“yeah. i was in a nasty car accident when i was a kid. i almost didn’t make it out, i was actually the last one rescued because they didn’t see me in the backseat.” you hadn’t told many people this story, but it felt like you’d told it a million times with sam.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” she suddenly reached for your hand and wrapped hers around it.

the contact felt hot. like heat was radiating off her skin and meeting yours. it felt like sparks igniting so aggressively that you felt you might explode.

sinner. sinful. sinful sinner.

“its okay.” you said, looking away as an effort to hide your embarrassment. your eyes met her empty plate and you moved to pick it up, pulling your hand away. she was too slow to stop you. “i’ll wash up for you.”

you got up with both your plates but she followed you to the kitchen. she leaned on the counter as you washed the dishes.

“did you have many injuries?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

“yeah, bruised everything. broke most things. broken ribs, my eardrums burst, just… everything that could break a child.” you dryly chuckled, remembering how young you were when you had to deal with all of that.

“anything that hurts to this day?” it’s like she could see straight through you.

“yeah. my left arm. it’s just always acting up. it just broke horribly so the bones never fully recovered. it’s okay though, i think i can still lift more than you.” you joked, nudging her, trying to lighten the mood. sam laughed with you, stepping backwards to steady herself.

“oh i don’t doubt that.” she returned your energy, it was nice to see sam drop her usual demeanour.

you put the dishes on the drying rack after realising you had been scrubbing and rinsing them for nothing, getting carried away with your conversation.

“anyways, they were gonna cut it off but i didn’t want that. i wanted to try and heal. i unfortunately had to quit heaps of things in high school. gave up a lot of things i loved.” you frowned a little, “but it’s okay, i found new things!”

you dried your hands then felt a hand squeeze your arm gently, a sign of affection. you turned your head to see sam hovering over you. her fingers gently trickled down to touch your bad arm, her eyes trailing across the skin.

you were so close to her, so close. you could feel the heat radiating off her body.

“you’ve been through so much. and yet your heart is so good.” she whispered, not needing to make her voice any louder due to your close proximity.

“you never know what someone might be going through.” you turned around to face her, looking up at the taller girl in front of you. “not a lot of people treated me with kindness after the accident.”

she put her hands on both your upper arms, rubbing them as a way of grounding you after talking about something so heavy. it was working, you felt like you were more present than ever before.

the way she was looking at you— she was staring straight into your soul. it was like she was peeling all your layers back just by breathing the same air as you.

“nobody will ever hurt you again.”

it was almost a promise. you knew she couldn’t guarantee it, but she was going to try her hardest.

the statement made you close the gap between the two of you. you leaned upwards, almost reflexively. you even held onto the cloth of her shirt. she leaned down too, her lips hovering directly in front of yours.

just fucking do it.

your eyes fluttered shut, you moved in for it. and you swear you felt her lips before you heard it.

click!

the door swung open, quinn was home. you shoved sam back so hard that her back hit the wall with a thunk.

“hey guys.” she said, tiredness threading through the greeting.

“quinn. i thought you were staying over at what’s-his-name’s place?” sam asked, annoyed. you almost missed it.

you had your fingers grazing your own lips, still in disbelief at what happened. you didn’t even know if you made contact.

“i was supposed to but we fought because he didn’t make me cum.” quinn said, bluntly. you turned around, your eyes widened at the statement. you felt like you were intruding.

“interesting fight.” sam nodded, pretending to be amused.

“he’s a big baby. don’t worry about it. i’ll let y’all get back to dinner.” she kicked her shoes off and waved before making a beeline for her room.

sam’s jaw was tight. she was clearly bothered about being interrupted. you were staring at her side profile, your own arms crossed.

“we shouldn’t have, sam.” you said, firmly. you felt like a damn criminal going after her. you knew it would start more drama in the carpenter household after there was already so much brewing.

“but you want to.” she said, retaliating against your statement. “and i want to.”

“but we can’t. tara will hate us.” she scoffed at your words. what you didn’t realise is that she was more than willing to take that risk.

“we already did, anyway.” she said, moving towards you.

so you did. you did kiss her. in the split second you had before quinn walked in, you kissed her. and she felt it— there was no turning back now.

“sam…” you held your hand out, the tips of your fingers hitting her abdomen, stopping her from getting any closer.

because you knew if she came any further, you would do it again.

“we’re not doing it again.” you glared at her, but all you received back was a smirk. “i’m going.”

you turned away from her, walking to the front door to grab your bag and jacket. she stayed in the kitchen, she wasn’t going to try and stop you. she knew that you needed time to process.

she needed her time too. now was the wrong time to try and start this, in the middle of fighting an ongoing war against a masked killer. it was wrong, unfair to you both. but she couldn’t resist the urge.

in the space between trying to keep everyone alive, she wanted to fit you in. she wanted you by her side through all of this, even if it meant only having a second to kiss you in between stabs.

you put your bag on your shoulder and turned the doorknob, walking out and shutting the door behind you. she sighed in defeat as she packed the remaining leftovers away for anyone to pick at later on.

she walked into her room and plopped down on the bed, reaching for her phone. she found herself worrying about whether or not you made it home safe, she didn’t know if you would text her at all.

her thumbs quickly typed a message.

“please let me know if you get home safe.”

“home safe.” you texted her twenty 20 minutes later. as much as you knew distance was good for now, you wanted to ease her worries. she didn’t need to worry about you.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you don’t know how you found yourself ignoring the invite to another family dinner at the carpenter household.

you thought that by putting space between you and sam that the desire to give into the craving would fade away.

when you grabbed your pizza and made sure to lock your door three times, you found yourself increasingly paranoid at the thought that you were no longer safe from the infamous ghostface. you started to regret not going to the perpetually busy household.

and turning on the television didn’t help.

PRIME SUSPECT SAMANTHA CARPENTER

it was screaming at you.

you sat up and increased the volume. you couldn’t believe your ears.

if ghostface’s plan was to frame sam, it was working. you had to give him credit for that, but it didn’t anger you any less.

you didn’t need to hear anymore before your pizza was abandoned and you were dashing out the door with your things.

you had a promise to keep.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

twenty minutes. that’s all it took for ghostface to wreak havoc on the carpenter household.

quinn dead. anika dead.

funny enough, it’s also how long you took to arrive.

when you arrived, chad and tara were outside the apartment, trying to fight their way in.

“what the hell is going on?!” you asked, rushing to them.

“ghostface is inside! sam, mindy, and anika are still in there!” tara yelled, panicking.

you could feel the adrenaline course through your veins. you were safe out here— but sam was not here.

you pushed your shoulder against the door, pulling chad and tara closer to you.

“together on my count. we do it thrice.” you said.

“one.” bang!

“two!” bang!

“three!” crash!

the three of you came stumbling into the apartment, the bloodstained walls immediately catching your eye. you prayed that the blood belonged to ghostface.

“sam!” you screamed out into the house.

“sam!” she heard your voice from danny’s apartment.

oh no. you weren’t supposed to be here for this.

the masked figure spun around upon hearing your voice. he turned to look at sam. she couldn’t see his eyes but she knew he was looking at her. he was taunting her to come back and save you.

she would have jumped the window on her own without the damn ladder if not held back by mindy and danny.

she tried screaming out to you to get out of the apartment.

but you couldn’t hear her. you were too busy examining quinn’s lifeless body. as you reached over to try and check for a pulse, you heard running.

running. fast. towards you.

and then a blade coming down.

you screamed in pain as the blade went through your lower left arm. it was already bad, what use was it anyway?

sam shut her eyes at the sound, it was loud enough to wake the entire street. and she could do absolutely nothing. it was the thing of nightmares.

chad and tara came running to you, chad throwing his body at ghostface. he knocked him over and picked you up.

sam gripped the ladder until her knuckles were white. she wanted to leave it there just in case you three needed it too. she prayed silently that you would not meet the same fate as anika.

you were dragged out of the apartment and down the stairs. when you reached outside, the wind blew against the blood trickling down your body. it sent a chill down your spine. your hand was wrapped around the stab wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

chad took his hoodie off and wrapped it around your arm, hoping to take some weight off your hand. you were grateful for him in the moment.

tara was calling someone but you were losing blood too quickly to follow what she was saying.

sam came running the second she spotted you from danny’s window.

you only then realised you had no idea where sam was.

sam was coming. her feet were working as fast as they could.

you didn’t see her in the apartment so you held onto the hope that she was okay.

she needed to see you. she needed to make sure you were okay.

you heard a door fly open. expecting it just to be some random person, you turned around just out of curiosity.

sam came flying out the door, enveloping you in her arms.

you winced in pain as the impact from her hug squished your arm.

“i heard you scream. i thought he’d gotten you.” sam spoke into your ear.

“nope. but he got the bad arm.” you held the injury towards her, she frowned at it.

“i’m sorry. you weren’t supposed to be here.” sam held your upper arm’s reassuringly.

“i saw the news. they were labelling you as the prime suspect. i had to make sure you were okay.” you stared into sam’s eyes. “i made you a promise.”

you had her. it was then that you had her. she was yours, and she knew it. you knew it too.

tara watched you two inquisitively. she didn’t realise you two had gotten that close. was she missing something?

while holding onto her phone to call an ambulance for you, she wondered if maybe you already had what you needed.

it was wrong. she knew it was, but she had to intervene.

tara walked towards you, basically pushing sam out of the way and resting her hand on your upper arm.

“i called an ambulance for you. you should sit til then.” she directed you towards the steps of the complex.

you let tara sit next to you, placing your arm on your lap.

“it’s the shit arm.” she said, referring to an inside joke the two of you had made during your relationship. it was an obvious inside joke to figure out but it made the two of you laugh.

you didn’t quite laugh though, you just nodded dejectedly.

“it is. it never catches a fucking break.” you huffed in frustration. you didn’t want to know the damages that would occur from this injury.

“i’m sure it’ll be okay. your body has survived so much worse.” part of you was surprised she even remembered the accident you’d been through.

“parts of my body have. why couldn’t he have gone for my leg or something?” you groaned out, tara’s dimples making an appearance from the smile that she flashed you.

“maybe you should let him know that for his next attack.” tara joked, it was an attempt to make you feel better despite ill timing.

you couldn’t hold back the snicker you felt bubble in the back of your throat. you were bleeding into chad’s hoodie but somehow tara made you feel better about it. it was a nice side of her.

“maybe i’ll leave a note.” you turned to her with a smile now growing.

“glad you’re feeling a bit better.”

“it still feels like shit. but thank you.” you acknowledged her efforts. she nodded and sat with you until the ambulance arrived.

when the paramedics collected you, they let you sit on the stretcher.

“fancy.” you mumbled, “and expensive.”

they loaded you into the vehicle and the male paramedic turned to the group outside.

“is anyone coming with her?”

“i’ll go.”

both sisters chirped up at the same time, standing right at the door.

“only one of them can come with you.” the female paramedic said, turning to you.

you stared at the two girls. why did they have to do this tonight?

you had a choice to make, and you had to proceed with exceeded caution.

tara or sam.

sam or tara.

you had to choose before you bled out.

in your fuzzy state, you slurred out your answer.

and the chosen carpenter hopped into the ambulance with you.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

author’s journal

okayyy everyone thank emma for pushing me to get this done earlier than i expected.

i’m also sorry if the romance feels a little rushed but i wanna get the romantic element kickstarted a bit more because we’re all here for it lets be real.

ummm i also wanted to write out the ladder scene a bit more but this chapter would go on FOREVERRRR

this was also my first time ever writing a simultaneous pov scene so i hope it makes some form of sense

anyways i hope y’all enjoyed this and i’m sorry for the cliffhanger— no i’m not, i’m so funny.

kisses!

404 notes · View notes

briefinquiries · 2 months ago

Text

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 16

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 16

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: Tommy waits by your bedside in the hospital, wracked with guilt, blaming himself for every bruise, every wound, haunted by the possibility that he almost lost you. When you finally wake, the damage is done, and though you're alive, the injuries you’ve suffered may not fade so easily.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language, mention of torture and vague, nonconsensual sexualization and touch, emetaphobia.

A/N: Thank you all for sticking with me this long. I'm actually going to be so sad when I finish up this story, this has been such a good escape for me lately. All your messages and replies have seriously been making my entire day, so it's all very much appreciated. Enjoy chapter 16 & all it's angst and fluff :)

(Also, a few people have asked to be added to a tag list, I don't really do a tag list when I post, but maybe that's something I can look to do at some point!)

The car skidded to a stop, the tires screeching against the wet pavement outside the hospital.

Tommy was out of the car before it had even fully stopped, his arms locked around you, unwilling to let go for even a second.

Your body was limp in his arms, your head lolling against his chest, skin burning with fever, clothes soaked with blood and filth. You had passed out on the way here, your body slumping against his chest, your breath shallow, uneven.

He’d said your name, shaken you gently, but you never stirred. Not when he spoke softly against your ear. Not when he tucked your face against his neck and told you he was getting you out of this. And now– now, you weren’t moving at all.

Arthur was already out of the car and shouting for help, his voice carrying over the storm of Tommy’s thoughts.

Within moments, nurses and orderlies rushed out, their expressions shifting from concern to alarm the second they saw you.

“She needs a doctor.” Tommy’s voice was low, sharp, commanding, but there was something wavering beneath it, something teetering on the edge of breaking.

A nurse stepped forward. “Sir,” she reached out carefully, gesturing towards the stretcher.

Tommy didn’t move. He didn’t loosen his grip– couldn’t. His heart pounded in his chest. They wanted him to let you go. To give you up. To trust them– when he had no trust left to give.

“Sir, please. Step back.” The voice was firm, urgent. But the words barely registered.

All Tommy could see was your face– drained of color, bruised, unconscious in his arms. And when the nurses moved in, hands reaching for you, he jerked his shoulder and knocked one away, his elbow nudging another aside as he twisted, keeping you tight against his chest.

The nurses stumbled back, startled. One of them raised their hands cautiously.

“Sir, if you want her to live, you have to let us do our jobs.”

Tommy grimaced. Because if he let go– if he let them take you, then he had nothing left but hope. And hope wasn’t enough.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulder, hard.

“Tom–” Arthur’s voice was firm, but not unkind. “Let ‘em take her. They’re the only ones who can help her.”

Tommy’s breath hitched, his grip unwavering.

“I left her before– she needs me,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Arthur exhaled sharply, his hands digging into Tommy’s arms. “Right now, she needs a doctor, Tom. You’ll be waitin’ for her soon as they’re done. We all will.”

Tommy’s jaw locked, his chest rising and falling too fast.

“Christ sake– look at her,” Arthur pressed, his own voice cracking slightly. “You can’t fix this, Tom.”

The words cut deep. But they weren’t wrong. And Tommy knew it.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. Then, slowly, he loosened his grip. The second his arms unraveled from around you, the nurses took you, and the moment your body left his hands, it felt like something inside him ripped apart. The air vanished from his lungs. A sharp, visceral pain tore through him. Something he couldn’t name. Something he couldn’t stop. He staggered forward– instinct, refusal.

But Arthur was there in an instant, shoving him back. “Tommy, let her go. Let her go.” His brother’s voice was low, urgent.

Just then, another car pulled up. The familiar sound of tires skidded against the pavement. Tommy barely registered it, his mind still fixated on your disappearing form. The car door swung open, and John climbed out, his coat still damp from the rain. He took one look at Tommy, his shirt covered in dirt and blood. Then he looked at Arthur and the scene unfolding in front of them. “Jesus Christ.” His breath came sharp. “Is she– ?”

Arthur turned, exhaling hard through his nose. “They’ve got her. She’s inside.”

John’s jaw ticked, his eyes darkening.

And just like that, the waiting began.

…

Hours passed. Tommy wasn’t sure how many. Time felt irrelevant.

The hands of the clock on the hospital wall moved, but the world outside didn’t exist beyond the walls of the waiting room.

He sat unmoving, elbows on his knees, jaw ticked, staring at the floor. His cigarette burned low between his fingers, the smoke curling toward the ceiling, forgotten.

John and Arthur were still there, though their restless pacing had slowed. Polly had arrived not long after, her face like stone, her presence heavy with unspoken concern. Ada sat beside her, arms crossed, her leg bouncing restlessly.

Esme had shown up at some point, hovering near the back with John, arms folded tightly, expression unreadable. Conversations flickered between the others, low murmurs filling the space, though none of them spoke directly to Tommy.

“Doctors are taking too fucking long,” John muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

Arthur exhaled sharply, restless, agitated. “Shoulda’ found our own doctor.”

“She was our bloody doctor,” Esme scoffed, arms still folded tightly, expression unreadable.

The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. John’s jaw tightened, his shoulders tense. He didn’t look at Esme, but she wasn’t wrong.

Polly, sitting rigidly in her chair, pressed her fingers to her temple. “We wait. That’s all we can do.”

A beat of silence. Then Arthur let out a harsh exhale, pacing again, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck’s sake.”

Esme leaned forward. “Where was she?”

Arthur exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Old textile mill. Near the canal.” His voice was still raw, like saying it out loud made it real all over again.

Polly frowned, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s a fucking miracle we found her at all.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “Stuffed in a basement. No light. No heat. No way out.” He huffed.

Esme shook her head. “Jesus. And Campbell?”

Arthur shrugged. “Where we left him.”

“Six feet under.” John rolled his neck, exhaling. “I’m glad that fucker’s dead. I hope he suffered.”

Arthur scoffed. “It wasn’t nearly enough.”

Esme arched her brow. “Not enough? What more do you want?’”

Arthur shook his head, but his lips twitched. “You didn’t see her, Esme,” he muttered, voice tight. His pacing slowed, and for the first time since they arrived, his anger dimmed, just slightly, not gone, just simmering beneath the surface. “You didn’t see what that bastard did to her.”

Esme’s arms were still folded tightly, but something shifted in her expression. She had seen plenty of violence. Plenty of cruelty. But there was something in Arthur’s tone, in the way his jaw clenched like he was grinding his teeth to dust, that made her pause.

John exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Well, at least it’s done. Campbell’s gone.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Still gotta deal with Moss, though.”

Arthur grunted. “Fuckin’ right, we do.”

Esme’s brow lifted. “Moss?”

John nodded. “He was the one who tipped Tommy off.”

Esme scoffed. “And what does he want for that favor?”

John smirked, but there was no real amusement behind it. “Just a nice bag of cash and protection from Campbell’s ghost.”

Arthur huffed, crossing his arms. “Like we needed another bloody deal on our hands.”

Polly, who had been silent, finally spoke. “We’ll deal with it,” she said, her tone flat.

John leaned back slightly, rubbing his jaw. “Doesn’t change the fact we owe the bastard.” He exhaled sharply.

Arthur grunted. “Right. And what we really need right now is another fucking problem.”

“That’s not what’s important right now,” Polly replied.

The conversation continued, their voices flickering between grumbling and reluctant acceptance.

But Tommy still hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t even moved. His elbows were still braced against his knees, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white.

Ada noticed before the others. Quietly, she stood and moved to sit beside him– close, but not intrusive. His suit was stiff with dried blood, his hair unruly. His hands looked like they had been clenched into fists for hours.

Ada sighed softly. After a moment, her voice came soft, measured. “Tommy.”

He didn’t look at her– didn’t even acknowledge her.

Ada pressed her lips together, watching him carefully. “You need to eat,” she said quietly. “Change your clothes.”

Nothing.

Ada studied him for a long moment, her voice even softer now. “It’s been eight hours, Tommy.”

Still, he didn’t move. She swallowed, watching the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled against his knees like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will.

“You need rest,” she murmured. “Even if it’s just for a little while.”

For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t react at all. But then, he inhaled sharply and held it. Just for a second. Just long enough for her to see it. She saw the way his jaw tensed harder, how the muscles in his throat tightened, and the smallest tremor rippled through his fingers.

And then, without a word, he put his head in his hands, not before Ada caught the faintest glisten in his eyes– gone before anyone else could notice. But she saw it. And she didn’t say anything. She just reached out, placed a gentle, steadying hand on his back, pretending she didn’t feel the way he silently trembled beneath her touch.

The hours stretched on, slow and suffocating.

Outside, the night bled into morning, the city stirring with the first signs of life, but inside the hospital, time felt frozen.

Tommy hadn’t moved. Ada stayed beside him.

Arthur and John had shifted between pacing and sitting, muttering under their breaths, then falling silent again. Polly had remained still as stone, unreadable, though her fingers occasionally twitched against her knee, betraying her tension. Esme had eventually left, tasked with checking in on Carl and Finn, who’d both been left with the maids.

The not knowing was unbearable.

Until finally, a nurse appeared in the doorway, her uniform crisp, her expression calm but focused. Every head in the room snapped up. Tommy was on his feet before she spoke.

“She’s stable.”

A breath, a collective exhale of tension, relief, fear still tangled within it.

“But,” the nurse continued, her gaze flicking between them, “her injuries are severe.”

Tommy’s jaw locked. “How bad?”

The nurse inhaled slowly, glancing at the clipboard in her hands.

“Several broken ribs, extensive bruising, and lacerations across her body.” She paused, looking up. “What we’re really worried about is the head injury. It’s significant, looks like blunt force trauma. There’s swelling. She regained consciousness briefly but was disoriented.”

Tommy’s fingers curled into fists.

“She’ll likely experience lots of confusion, dizziness, headaches, probably some nausea,” the nurse went on. “We’re monitoring her closely for any signs of further complications.”

John exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face.

Arthur rubbed his knuckles together, muttering, “Fucking bastard.”

Polly nodded once, her voice even. “And what now?”

The nurse adjusted her clipboard. “She needs rest. No sudden movement. Limited stress. We’ll keep her under observation for the next twenty-four hours before making any further assessments. But as of right now, I’d say she needs to stay here for at least the next few days.”

Tommy swallowed. “Can we see her?”

The nurse hesitated. “One at a time.”

Ada exhaled through her nose, glancing at Tommy. “Go on, then.”

John nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll wait.”

Tommy didn’t need to be told twice. Without another word, he moved, his strides purposeful, sharp, following the nurse down the corridor. The hospital smelled of antiseptic and old floors, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Each step felt too slow– too far– too much distance between him and you.

Finally, the nurse stopped outside a door, her expression careful as she turned to him.

“She’s resting,” she said, lowering her voice. “She’s in and out, disoriented from the head trauma. But she’s stable.”

Tommy gave a curt nod, his jaw tight.

She held his gaze for a moment, as if considering whether to say something more. Then, finally, she stepped aside, pushing open the door.

And then, he saw you. Laid against white sheets, looking smaller than you should have been, bruised and broken but breathing.

The breath left his chest.

A heavy wrap covered the side of your head, darkened slightly from where the wound had bled through. The rise and fall of your chest was shallow but steady.

You were alive.

He barely registered the nurse slipping out of the room, leaving you alone with him.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring, as if trying to grasp the reality of how close it had been. How close you had been to never waking up.

And how, if that had happened, it would have been his fucking fault.

The thought slammed into him with the force of a bullet, knocking the breath from his lungs. Because this, all of this– The blood. The pain. The bruises staining your skin. Every last bit of it was on him. Because he had been the one to drag you into his world. To put you in Campbell’s line of fire. To make you a pawn in a game that should have never involved you.

And if you had died in that basement, if you had taken your last breath alone, in the dark– Tommy wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to live with it.

His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his whole body tensed, burning.

Then, slowly, carefully, he took a step forward. The chair beside your bed scraped against the floor as he pulled it closer, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent room. He sat down heavily, his body tired but too wound up to feel it.

For a moment, he just watched you– took you in. He studied the way your face, usually so full of life, was still and sunken, marred by bruising along your cheekbone– deep and dark from where Campbell and his men had struck you.

Your lips were cracked, dried blood at the corner of your mouth. There was discoloration along your throat, faint but there– a reminder that someone had pressed their hands where they never fucking should have been.

His jaw tightened. Slowly, carefully, Tommy reached for your hand and gathered it in his. Your fingers were cold, your knuckles scraped raw, bruising curling along your wrists from the cuffs.

The weight in his chest pressed harder.

He had done this. He had let this happen.

And now, all he could do was sit there, watching you, waiting, praying to whatever cruel God had spared you that you’d wake up.

…

The world swam in and out of darkness.

Shadows bled into light. Light bled into pain.

There was a throbbing sensation, searing pain that split your skull in two. Your head pounded so violently it felt like the walls were closing in– like something inside you was breaking apart.

You tried to breathe, tried to move, but everything was too much. Your body was too heavy. Your skin was too cold. Your stomach lurched.

A strangled gasp tore from your throat as your fingers searched blindly, reaching for something– anything– but all you found was air.

Suddenly, your hand flew to your head, clutching at it, desperate, trying to hold it together. Because it felt like it was splitting open. Like something inside your skull was cracking apart, splitting down the middle, a fault line giving way beneath unbearable pressure.

It was blinding, searing, suffocating. A hammer pounding behind your eyes. A blade carving through the base of your skull, dragging fire down the back of your neck. Every pulse of blood felt wrong, like it was trying to push through shattered bone, through bruised, swollen tissue.

The pressure built with every ragged breath, the world around you spinning so violently it felt like you were being dragged under, drowning in your own body.

A strangled whimper escaped before you could stop it. You squeezed your fingers tighter against your scalp, as if somehow, somehow, you could stop the way it felt like it was caving in.

It just kept building, climbing, twisting into something unbearable. And then, a wave of nausea crashed into you.

Violent. Overpowering.

Your stomach lurched so suddenly you barely had time to turn before your body gave in. Before you could even try to take a breath, you heaved and vomited, your body convulsing with the force of it, the sharp motion sending a fresh surge of agony tearing through your skull.

A deep, radiating pain that made you gasp, made your chest seize, made the world tilt even more.

It felt like you were falling.

Until suddenly, you felt a pair of cool hands.

Soft, firm, grounding. They found your temples first, brushing along the edges of your face, soothing, steadying.

And then, a hand cradled the back of your head– like it was holding your skull together for you. The touch was firm but careful, supporting your weight as you felt a forehead press against yours.

The smell of whiskey and smoke, of earth and something distinct filled your senses.

“I’m right here, love.” A rough, warm murmur, pulling you back from the edge. “I’ve got you. You’re alright.”

Your breath hitched– your chest rising too fast, too sharp, but his grip stayed firm.

In the distance, other voices flickered in and out.

“She needs something for the pain.”

“Someone get the doctor–”

The words were just background noise, muffled and far away.

But the sound of his voice was close, it was here. And the warm weight of his presence, settled the worst of the panic clawing at your ribs.

The pain was still there, it was fucking unbearable, but the fear? The fear lessened.

His forehead still pressed against yours, his grip firm, anchoring you.

You whimpered, your fingers weakly gripping at his shirt. You could hear him, but you couldn’t see him.

“Breathe, love.” His voice was warm, grounding. “Just breathe. That’s it.”

Your body trembled violently beneath his touch, but his hold didn’t waver.

“I know it hurts, sweetheart. I know.” He pulled you closer, just slightly, just enough. “You’re safe, yeah? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

His breath was warm against your cheek, his words soft but firm.

You latched onto it all– let his presence consume you. So when the darkness came again, pulling you under yet again–

All you could hear was Tommy.

All you could smell was Tommy.

All you could feel was Tommy.

And what a wonderful thing to know.

…

They kept you asleep for two days.

The doctors said the head injury was worse than they thought– that you had swelling in your brain. You’d woken up days before, screaming. Thrashing. Vomiting. Sobbing.

The moment your eyes had snapped open, panic had ripped through you, wild and uncontrollable.

All he could do was hold you down– cup your face, and murmur that everything would be alright. He had no idea if that was true, or if he was lying through his teeth just to comfort you. But he had never felt more helpless in his entire fucking life.

He couldn’t take away the pain, couldn’t erase what had been done, couldn’t change a fucking thing. And for a man like him– that was worse than anything.

So, he did the only thing he could do: he stayed.

Because if you woke up again– if you woke up screaming, or crying, or terrified– He’d be there.

After a while, the nurses allowed more than one visitor. Tommy thought it was more for his own sanity than anything else, but he didn’t question it.

Polly was the first to visit. She entered quietly, her movements soft, deliberate.

She moved to your bedside, her keen eyes scanning over you, taking in every bruise, every bandage, every sign of the suffering you had endured.

A deep, quiet sigh left her lips. “My poor girl.”

Then, she reached out and took your hand.

Tommy watched from his chair in the corner as Polly held it gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles, slow and steady. She murmured something, soft words, barely audible. A quiet prayer, maybe. She stayed like that for a while, her other hand patting yours lightly, a mother’s touch, something firm and grounding, even as you remained unconscious.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she released your hand. And then, she turned and walked over to Tommy.

“I know what you’re thinking. I know you’ve been sitting in this room, stewing for the last twenty-four hours. I understand you’re angry, I know you’re hurting. But this was not your fault, Thomas."

Tommy’s jaw tensed immediately. His fingers curled into his palms, but he didn’t say anything.

Polly waited. She wasn’t asking for a response. She was just stating the truth as she saw it. When the silence stretched too long, she sighed.

“Sometimes I think you forget I raised you. I know how you think.” Her gaze flickered toward you. “And I know what’s going through your head without you having to say it.”

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head, but Polly wasn’t finished.

“This happened because of Campbell. Because he was a sick, twisted bastard, not because of you.”

Tommy’s stare was dark, glassy with something unreadable.

“You can sit here and blame yourself, waste away in this chair, punish yourself for something that was never in your hands, or you can move on and focus on how you’ll help her when she wakes up.”

His throat tightened.

“Because she’s going to need you, Thomas,” Polly said, her voice softer now.

A beat of silence. Then, Tommy finally spoke.

“I should’ve stopped it.” His voice was hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and something deeper.

Polly shook her head. “You did. You stopped him from killing her.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his fingers twitching against his knees. “I shouldn’t have let her work for me in the first place. I should’ve kept her away.”

Polly sighed. “I hate that she ended up caught in the middle of this mess. I hate that she ended up hurt. But you and I both know you couldn’t have kept her away, even if you tried.”

She reached over, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

“She loves you. Just as much as you love her. And she was meant to come into your life, and you were meant for hers.”

Tommy didn’t move.

Polly tilted her head as she studied him carefully, watching the war raging behind his eyes.. “You need to sleep, Thomas.”

He let out a short breath through his nose. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” she murmured. Polly stood, smoothing down her skirt. “But you can’t keep going forever.”

She let her gaze drift to you one last time before giving Tommy’s shoulder a firm pat.

“I’ll be outside,” she said. “If you need anything.”

And then, she left. The door clicked shut, the quiet settling in around him like a heavy weight.

Tommy inhaled, slow, deep. He dragged a hand down his face before leaning back into the chair, exhaling.

The hours blurred.

Tommy wasn’t sure how long he sat there, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, waiting for some sign that you were coming back to him.

At some point, John and Arthur had come in. Neither of them stayed long. John had hovered at the door at first, arms crossed over his chest, before stepping closer, muttering something like, “You’re tougher than all of us put together, love. You’ll pull through.”

Arthur had been quieter. He’d stood at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets, looking at you for a long moment. Then, with a sharp exhale, he muttered, “We’ll take care of everything, Tom. You just focus on her, yeah?”

Tommy barely responded.

A nod. Maybe. A grunt at best.

Then they left him to it.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when Ada came in next. He only realized she was there when the chair beside him scraped against the floor as she sat down.

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t need to. She was quiet at first, just like Polly had been. Then, finally, “Tommy.”

Nothing.

She sighed. “You know she wouldn’t want this.”

His fingers curled against his knees. “Want what?”

Ada arched her brow. “You, sitting here, wasting away, waiting for her to wake up like that’ll somehow change things. They’re keeping her asleep on purpose. You can afford to slip home for an evening.”

His jaw ticked. “She might not wake up.”

Ada’s gaze softened. “She will.”

Tommy exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head.

“I know you, Tommy,” she continued. “And I know you’re blaming yourself.”

His throat felt tight.

“You think if you’d done something different, this wouldn’t have happened.”

He didn’t respond.

“But it did happen,” she said softly. “And you being here, tearing yourself apart over it, isn’t gonna change that.”

Tommy let his head dip, pressing his fingers to his temples, his exhaustion creeping into every inch of his body. Ada watched him carefully, her brows furrowed just slightly.

Then, she sighed. “Tommy, you need to go home.”

His fingers twitched, but he didn’t lift his head.

“Not forever, you stubborn bastard,” she continued. “Just long enough to change your clothes, maybe sleep for an hour– hell, take a fucking bath.”

Tommy exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head.

Ada tilted hers. “You think she wants to wake up to you sitting here looking like a ghost? Smelling like a walking ashtray?”

Still, nothing.

She leaned in, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “Tom, if she wakes up and the first thing she smells is you right now, she’s gonna leave you.”

A small, tired huff of air left Tommy’s nose. It wasn’t quite a laugh. But it was close enough.

Ada caught it. Her lips twitched. “There it is. That’s the first reaction I’ve gotten out of you in two bloody days.”

Tommy finally lifted his head, rubbing his jaw, shaking his head.

At last, he sighed. “Fine.”

Ada looked surprised for half a second before she masked it with a smug grin.

“Me and Polly will stay with her the whole time.”

Tommy grumbled something under his breath as he pushed up from the chair.

“She’ll be fine, Tom. Go home.”

He hesitated, casting one last glance at you.

Then, without another word, he turned and left.

…

Consciousness came in slow waves.

It wasn’t violent like before, or a drowning, suffocating pull into agony.

Just… slow.

Your head still ached, a dull, steady throb behind your skull, but it wasn’t blinding, or even unbearable.

And when you blinked against the dim light of the room– you realized that you could see again.

A slow, shaky breath filled your lungs.

The blurry haze that had suffocated you before was gone.

Your vision wasn’t perfect– a little hazy at the edges, the room slightly too bright, but it was there. You exhaled softly, letting your gaze wander, taking in your surroundings.

You weren’t in the basement.

You were somewhere safe.

A hospital, maybe.

The sheets beneath your fingers were soft, clean. The air was cool, crisp, tinged faintly with antiseptic.

A sharp contrast to the damp, suffocating stench of blood and stone that had clung to you for days.

Your gaze shifted slightly. A figure sat in the chair beside your bed, her legs crossed, fingers idly fidgeting with a loose thread at the hem of her sleeve.

Ada’s dark hair was pulled into a loose, messy knot, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration as she twirled the thread between her fingers.

You swallowed, your throat dry, hoarse. The movement caught her attention.

Her head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours. “Holy shit.”

She was on her feet in an instant, moving closer, eyes scanning your face.

Her voice softened. “You’re awake.”

You swallowed again, voice rough when you finally rasped out, “I think so.”

A small, shaky exhale left Ada’s lips. Then, her expression shifted, softer, but still firm. “How are you feeling?”

Ada’s voice was softer now, steady but careful, as if she was trying not to startle you. You swallowed against the dryness in your throat, grimacing slightly.

“Like I got hit by a train.”

Ada huffed out a short breath. “Yeah,” she muttered. “You look it, too.”

You gave a weak, tired smirk. Your body still felt heavy, weak, sore all over. Your ribs ached, deep bruises throbbing beneath the bandages. The dull throb in your head was still there, lingering behind your skull like an echo of something much worse.

Ada shifted beside you, reaching toward the bedside table.

“Here.” She grabbed a glass of water, guiding it toward you.

You tried to lift your arm, but the effort was exhausting. Your muscles trembled, too weak to hold the weight, and before you could drop it, Ada sighed and leaned in, pressing the glass lightly to your lips.

“Alright, alright. Just sip.”

Cool water touched your tongue, soothing the rawness in your throat. You sighed in relief. Ada pulled the glass away, setting it back on the table before looking at you again.

Her arms folded, her brow furrowed slightly. And then, her expression softened.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” she said quietly. “Everyone’s been so worried.”

Your chest tightened. There was something about hearing it– knowing that they had been waiting, that she had been waiting. That you had been missed.

You cleared your throat, voice quiet. “How long?”

She exhaled, leaning back in her chair. “Two days.”

Your stomach dropped as the weight of it settled in.

“Where’s Tommy?”

Ada scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Home, finally. Only because I convinced him that if you woke up to him smelling the way he did, you might leave him.”

Something small, warm flickered in your chest. For the first time in a long time, you managed a weak, tired smile.

Ada grinned. “He should be back soon. You alright if I go get Polly? She’s been waiting, too. Think she might kill me if I don’t go tell her you’re awake.”

You gave a small nod, but the movement made your head swim. Ada noticed immediately, her expression flickering with warning.

“Oi,” she leaned in, eyes narrowing. “Don’t go passing out on us again before I’m back, yeah?”

You huffed a breath, half amused, half exhausted. “I’ll do my best.”

Ada rolled her eyes, shaking her head, but there was relief in the gesture, in the teasing, in the fact that she could even joke with you at all.

She pushed up from the chair. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

You murmured something incoherent in response, exhaustion tugging at you again, but Ada was already moving toward the door.

As she slipped out, the room fell quiet again.

Your body still ached, your head still throbbed, but you hoped the worst of it had passed.

You were here.

You were safe.

And before you could dwell too much on any of it, the door opened again. And the second Polly’s eyes landed on you, her whole expression softened.

Relief. Pure, unfiltered relief. “Oh, love.”

She hurried to your side, brushing your hair back, resting a hand against your cheek, checking you over like only Polly Gray could.

The second her fingers grazed against your cheek, something inside you uncoiled. Polly had that effect. She didn’t rush, didn’t overwhelm. Just watched you carefully, studying every inch of your face, her eyes sharp, assessing.

“You gave us all a fucking scare, love.”

You swallowed. “Sorry.”

Polly huffed, shaking her head. “Don’t be stupid.” She pulled the chair closer, settling into it like she’d done it a hundred times already.

And knowing Polly, she probably had.

Her fingers lingered against your temple, just barely ghosting over the bandages before she pulled away. “How’s your head?”

You shifted slightly, but the movement made your stomach churn. “It’s alright,” you lied.

Polly raised a suspicious and knowing brow.

You sighed. “Hurts like hell.”

Polly nodded like she’d already known the answer before she asked.

“They’re keeping a close eye on you,” she murmured. “You were out for a long time.”

You exhaled softly, closing your eyes for a moment.

“He wouldn’t leave,” she continued. “We had to force him to go home, just for a few hours.”

You swallowed hard. Something thick settled in your chest, pressing against your ribs. Polly must’ve seen it, because her expression softened.

“Won’t be long now,” she murmured. “He’ll be back soon.”

You nodded again, slower this time, realizing just how much you craved Tommy’s comfort.

Polly watched you carefully. She could see it, the way your shoulders tensed, the way you blinked a little too fast, the way your fingers curled weakly into the blanket.

She sighed, leaning forward slightly. “He just about tore the whole fucking town apart looking for you, love.”

Polly’s voice was soft, but there was weight behind it.

“Campbell was dead the second Tommy realized you were missing. He just didn’t know it yet.”

You swallowed, your throat tight.

Polly tilted her head, studying your face. “I know he doesn’t always show it,” she murmured. “Not the way you might want him to. But Thomas Shelby doesn’t tear the city apart for just anyone.”

Your fingers twitched. Polly reached over, patting your arm gently.

“He cares for you. More than you know.”

Your chest tightened as the guilt settled deep. Because for two days in that basement– you had let yourself wonder if Tommy had cared at all. You had let Campbell’s words sink their claws into you.

Before you could respond, the door was swinging open.

Polly glanced over her shoulder. Then, she turned back to you, her expression unreadable.

“I’ll give you two a minute.”

And with that, she stood, stepping aside for Tommy to step into the room.

Polly gave him a small nod as she passed.

Then, she was gone.

Your fingers curled into the blanket, grip weak but trembling. You wanted to say something. But before you could, Tommy moved.

Slow at first, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

Then, all at once, like he couldn’t stop himself. He pulled the chair up right beside your bed. He sat down, leaned forward, his elbows bracing against his knees, and finally his eyes met yours.

And you saw everything: the rage. The exhaustion. The guilt. The relief.

Tommy’s eyes didn’t leave yours. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, his hand absently rubbing at the edge of his jaw as he studied you.

Then, finally– his voice low, careful, steady. “How’s the pain?”

You swallowed, throat raw. “I’m fine.” Your voice came out hoarse, weak, unconvincing.

Tommy’s eyes didn’t move from yours. “Don’t lie.”

It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t sharp. It was quiet. Steady. A simple truth.

Your breath caught, fingers curling into the blanket. “It hurts.”

Tommy nodded once. “Where?”

You hesitated, your chest feeling like it was caving in. “Everywhere.”

A slow, sharp exhale pushed through his nose. His jaw ticked, just slightly, his fingers tapping against his knee. “Your head?”

You gave a weak nod, trying to fight the tears burning behind your eyes. Tommy’s gaze flickered up toward the wrap along your temple, his expression darkening. His hand twitched, like he wanted to touch, to check, to fix it. But he didn’t.

“Your ribs?”

Another nod.

“They’ll keep you here another night. Maybe longer.” His voice was still calm, but there was something tighter underneath it now. “You need to rest. Let the doctors–”

You never heard the rest of his sentence. Because somewhere, deep in your chest, something cracked. Your ribs ached with the effort to breathe through it, to stay in control, to keep from falling apart. But the walls were crumbling.

The pressure, the exhaustion, the sheer weight of everything you had endured– it all caved in at once. Your shoulders tensed, then slowly, slowly, they collapsed altogether. Your spine curled, your body folding in on itself, like you could somehow physically contain everything building inside you. But you couldn’t.

A sharp breath hitched in your throat, and then, the first tear spilled over. Once it started, you couldn’t stop it.

The dam broke.

A shudder wracked through you, and then another. You clenched your jaw, tried to hold back the sob, but it clawed its way free, raw and broken. Your hands shook violently, curling into the fabric of the blanket, clinging to something, anything.

Before you could even process it– before you could think, before you could be embarrassed, before you could try to pull yourself together– his hand was on your face. Warm, steady, thumb brushing away a tear as fast as it fell. His other hand wrapped gently around yours, his fingers curling tight, grounding you. You squeezed your eyes shut, but that didn’t stop the tears.

Every emotion you had buried, every moment of fear, every second spent in the dark, waiting for death– it all tore out of you at once.

You barely registered Tommy sliding onto the bed beside you, his shoes still on the ground, his arm slipping around your waist.

But when he pulled you close, when he tucked you against his chest, holding you tight, you moved without thinking. Your body curled into him, seeking warmth, seeking comfort, seeking the only thing that had ever made you feel safe.

His arms wrapped around you fully now, one hand cradling the back of your head, his fingers stroking slow, steady circles along your hip.

Tommy never moved– never loosened his grip. Not once.

He just held you.

And when the cries finally faded into weak, hiccuping breaths, when the exhaustion became heavier than the grief, you finally spoke.

Voice trembling, barely above a breath. “I was scared, Tommy.”

Tommy’s fingers froze. His grip on you tightened, just slightly. Then, he let out a quiet exhale. “I know, love. I know.”

You could still feel the ache in your ribs, the pulsing throb in your skull, the lingering, invisible grip of Campbell’s hands on your skin– But you also felt the warmth of Tommy’s body against yours. You felt the weight of his arms, solid, steady, unmoving and the soft, rhythmic push and pull of his breath against your temple.

You exhaled, slow and shaky, the last remnants of tension uncoiling from your muscles.

And finally, you let your eyes flutter shut.

…

Darkness.

Heavy, suffocating, endless.

You couldn’t move.

Couldn’t scream.

The weight of him was crushing, smothering, pinning you down.

Campbell’s breath was hot against your ear.

His voice– low, taunting, cruel. "I like it when you struggle."

You fought, thrashing, clawing, screaming–

You woke up screaming.

Your body jerked upright, ribs screaming in protest, lungs gasping for air. The room around you was dark. Too dark. Panic seized your chest.

No. No, no, no–

Blackness.

A sob ripped through you, shaking, broken.

Your breathing grew sharp, too quick, too shallow, and then, the pain hit.

White-hot, blinding.

Your head pounded, unbearable, relentless, splitting open like a hammer against bone.

You let out a strangled gasp, hands flying to your head, gripping, clutching, desperate to hold yourself together.

Everything spun.

Your stomach lurched violently.

You thought you might vomit, your chest heaving, body trembling, and then–

Hands.

Warm, firm hands gripping your wrists.

“Hey, hey, hey–” a familiar voice rang out. You kept your eyes shut, clenched tight.

“It’s not real,” you cried.

But his grip was steady, strong. It felt real.

He was pulling your hands away from your head, prying your fingers loose.

“Look at me.” His voice was low, urgent.

You shook your head, whimpering.

“Open your eyes, love.”

A firm hand cradled your face. Thumbs skimming over your cheeks, grounding you.

Your breath hitched.

“You’re safe. Open your eyes.”

Finally, you did–

And there he was. Tommy.

His stormy, blue eyes were edged with worry and rimmed with exhaustion.

You let out a weak, shuddering sob. Your body trembled. “Tommy–”

Your voice broke. More tears streamed down your face.

“It hurts–”

Your hands weakly grasped at his arms, grounding yourself in the solid weight of him. He nodded quickly, his hands never leaving your skin.

“I know.” His voice was softer now, urgent but gentle. “I know, love. You’re alright. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The room was spinning. The pounding in your head grew worse.

More voices– somewhere distant.

A nurse, maybe. “She needs more pain medication,” she said.

You barely registered the pinch of the needle above the pulsating sensation in your skull.

Suddenly, Tommy was climbing into the bed beside you. He pulled you against his chest again, the same way you’d been laying when you first fell asleep. You cradled your head against him.

His fingers threaded into your hair, slow, gentle, rubbing soothing circles at your temple.

“Shh,” he cooed. “The meds will kick in soon. Breathe.”

Your body melted into him, trembling, exhausted.

“Don’t leave,” you whispered weakly, voice barely above a whisper. “Please– stay.”

Tommy’s hand never stopped moving, never stopped grounding you. His grip on you tightened, firm and unshakable.

“I’m right here, love,” he murmured. “Not going anywhere. I got you.”

His voice was low, steady, certain. It wasn’t a promise, nor a reassurance.

It was a fact.

Your breath hitched, but the sobs had faded. The pounding in your head was still there, but his touch softened the edges of it, dulled it into something manageable.

The warmth of him, the unwavering, solid presence of him, was enough to pull you back from the edge. Your fingers curled weakly into his shirt, gripping it like an anchor.

His lips pressed against your hair, just briefly, just enough. And slowly, finally, the tension in your body began to ease.

You exhaled.

And when your body began to surrender to exhaustion, when your eyes fluttered shut again, there was no more doubt.

You weren’t in the basement anymore.

You weren’t alone.

You weren’t lost.

Tommy was holding you. And he wasn’t letting go.

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whoistartaglia · 1 year ago

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delirious

does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?

alhaitham x reader

you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?

alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.

“what are you doing?” you whisper.

“taking you home.”

you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.

“home?”

“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.

you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.

a lost cause, your roommate called you.

a lost cause was right.

“why?” you ask again through another cough.

alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”

“but you’re not nice?”

alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.

you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.

you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.

“you can’t do that.”

“but why?”

“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”

“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.

“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”

“stay.”

so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.

it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.

“ready to go?”

you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”

“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”

you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.

as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”

“i didn’t wear one.”

“why not?”

“i am immune to the cold.”

“i assume that’s why your sick.”

“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”

“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.

you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.

you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.

he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”

you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.

“because i wanted to see you.”

the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.

“why did you want to see me?”

“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”

like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.

if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.

“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.

alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?

alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.

but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)

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mehwmidklpe · 2 months ago

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Hey if you mind can you do a part two of 'a demi-what now?!' post of percy jackson x reader where reader is now targeted by monsters without percy knowing when he is away then one day he does find out but that only when reader ends up in the hospital with near death wounds

A DEMI-WHAT NOW?? PART 2

Percy Jackson x Mortal!Gf

A DEMI-WHAT NOW?? PART 1

Percy had been happier lately.

No monster.

No wars.

No secrets.

You, his amazing girlfriend knew about his godly side. And of course you were freaked out at first. Of coursre you couldn't possibly believe him.

But eventually you were there for him trough every up and down.

And he was greatful for that, cause there was no one who understood him like you did.

You weren't even a demigod and you still understood him better than all the campers!

Anyways, right now, Percy was sitting at camp with the seven– well actually the six, cause Jason is dead! –

(oh and let's not forget Percy's best friend Grover who was also with them right now)

but his mind was only on you.

That's unil he felt someone nudge his arm. "Hey, what got you so happy lately Seaweedbrain?" Leo Valdez grinned. "Nothing, just glad there are no monster and wars at the moment." Percy excused himself. "Okay, okay." But the grin never left the latino's lips.

Percy thought he had fooled everyone, but the look Piper gave him made him feel exposed. It was as if she could sense Percy's love for you.

Luckily Piper's intimitating look got snapped away from Percy once they heard a loud voice.

Only Leo's face lit up as he recognized the voice and turned around on his chair. "Connor!" He smiled at the sight of his good friend running. "He's probably running away from some kids after pranking them, nothing important." Annabeth assured the rest.

But that wasn't the case.

"I don't know.. It seems pretty serious." Grover said with a concered frown on his forehead. "Yeah, I agree." Frank states, trying to get a better look at the running boy.

"Yo! Someone get Chiron!" Connor exclaimed, running towards the group.

Being the son of Hermes, he was fast. And judging on the look on his face, he had a message to deliver.

Like father like son.

His (half)brother, Chris Rodriguez, who was origanally planning on going to see Clarisse train in the arena, quickly made his way towards the big house.

Leo jumped up from his chair, followed by Hazel. The rest followed. "Come on kelp head." Annabeth encouraged him.

By the time Percy got there, Chiron was already approaching with Chris on his back. "My child. Tell me what happened." He said to Connor.

"Alecto is at Halfblood Hill. She said she wouldn't do any harm in exchange for a converastion with Perseus Jackson." Connor informed them.

"Oh come on! Why is it always me? Screw main character aura." Percy cursed out.

As he arrived at the hill with his friends and mentor, Allecto was already waiting for him. "Ah.. Perseus Jackson. Long time no see." "Yeah, and I was happy with that long time." Percy said, a bit annoyed at her appearence.

Alecto only chuckled. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt anyone. I just thought you would like to know that Hades is savouring a nice spot in the underworld, so you don't have to worry."

The sea-color eyed boy had to frown. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Just that you might want to visit the hospital before your little girlfriend joins your friends in elysium."

Percy completely froze at the mention of you.

"Wha-what did you just say?" He question in shock. "Girlfriend?" He heard one of his friends ask, but he was to caught up in his thoughts to even register who's voice it was.

Percy was scared, anxious, concerned, but most of all, furious

Grover felt all of it.

The group felt the ground beneat them shaking. Poseidon was the earthshaker after all, so why couldn't his son do it too?

"Percy.." Hazel warned him, but he didn't care. It only became worse, Frank's gaze landed on the small lake nearby. "Percy." He repeated once the water started rising.

Piper saw the expression Percy wore, and it scared her a bit. "Perseus, think about what you're doing." Chrion warned him.

Allectro wore a smirk on her gross lips. "Whatever you're planning on doing, it isn't gonna bring your girlfriend back."

"NO!"

With that, Percy launched a gian wave of water at the furie, some of his friends falling down.

"PERCY!"

But he wasn't done. "What is he doing?" Chris wondered as he saw the hateful look on Percy's face and the motions he made with his hands. "B-bloodbending." The daughter of Athena responded.

When Chiron heard that, he couldn't believe it.

"That's enough!" He stopped the boy. Alecto took that as her chance to fly away.

"Perseus Jackson, what were you thinking?"

Percy's eyes flickered around, as if trying to process everything. "I need to go. Now." He responded, ignoring the centaur's question. "What?" "To the hospital. She's dying!" He panicked.

"You're girlfriend.. she's mortal, isn't she?" Annabeth realized.

Percy's silence spoke sentences. "And you told her about us?" Chiron asked in disbelief.

"I didn't have a choice! We were getting attacked, and she saved me, and how else do you explain a monster barging into your room?" The son of Poseidon defended himself.

"Percy–" "Please. I need to see her." He begged. The mentor shook his head. "There's no way you'll get there in time."

"I can take him."

The whole group turned around, their gazes landing on Connor Stoll.

"My dad is the god of travelers and time. I can get Percy to the hospital before he can even blink." He explained.

Percy's head shot up, rushing over to the boy's side. "Yes! Yes Connor please do! You'd do that?" "Of course. We're buddies, aren't we?"

Connor nudged him, and Percy had never been happier to be friends with a Stoll than he was now.

Chiron sighed deeply. "I really don't think it's a good idea to–" Percy cut Chiron off.

"Now."

Apperently, Connor liked listening to his friend way more than listening to Chiron, cause before evryone could blink– like he had said –the two boy's were gone.

"I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to visit her without a legal adult. Considering you only turn 18 after a few weeks, you can't go inside." The woman behind the counter aplogized.

Percy couldn't believe it. "No, no, she's my girlfriend, I need to see her." The woman shook her head. "I'm very sorry but–"

"I'm an adult."

Percy turned to lok at Connor. "Here, check it out, I turned 18 recently." He said, handing the woman his ID.

The son of Poseidon had to frown.

Connor was so silly that it never occured Perc that he was a few months older than himself.

The woman smiled in satisfiction, handing it back. "Very well then. You can go to room 8 at floor 4." She instructed.

Connor grinned. "Come on." Percy quickly followed.

In the elevator, Connor noticed how worried Percy was. "Hey, don't worry, your girl will be okay."

Percy nodded quickly before pulling his friend into a hug. "Thank you so much. For bringing me here and.. suprisingly being a few months older than me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

As he pulled away, Connor patted his shoulder. "No worries. You saved camp, this is the least I can do."

Eventually, when the elevator opened, the boys rushed towards room 8.

Only Percy froze, scared to open the door, scared of what he might see. "Hey.. You'll be fine." Connor assured him, tone soft.

One thing he knew about Connor– expect for that he's very silly, causes lots of trouble, cracks a lot of jokes and likes pulling pranks and stealinf –is that he was very understanding and actually really good at this stuff.

He figured that when he felt bad for Silena when he found out Beckendorf had die–

Percy sighed and opened the door.

He saw you on the bed. You were awake, but not in a good state at all. He could clearly see your beautiful face. And his heart broke when he saw your condintion.

Percy stood completly frozen in the doorway, not daring to move forward.

Connor, on the other hand, pushed Percy aside and rushed over to you.

What the Hermes?

"Y/n??"

"Connor..."

Percy couldn't believe what he was seeing. Connor was knelt next to the bed, his hands cupping your face, inspecting if you were okay. "Wh-How-Why?"

That's when Percy spoke up. "You two know each other?" Connor didn't even look at him. "Yeah, she helped me escape when I got chased for stealing. We kept in touch after, became best friends." He explained to your boyfriend.

"You're the best friend??"

"You're the boyfriend?"

"You're a demigod...?"

Your weak voice got both boy's their attention.

Connor gulped. "Yeah. Son of Hermes." A weak smile grew on your lips. "Makes so much sense." You breath out.

Percy quickly got to your side. "Y/n.. how.. I-" "Some monsters attacked." You tried to get out. "What do you mean? They just randomly decided to attack you?" The boy asked, panick all over his face.

"They know I'm your girlfriend.. they've been coming at me for a while now, trying to get to you trough me." You explained, eyes only half open.

Your boyfriend's breath hitched. "Why-why didn't you tell me?" You tried to catch your breath. "Didn't want you.. worried.. finally had rest." "I don't care if I finally had rest. You're hurt Y/n!" He said, voice full of pain.

A knock was heard from the door and a nurse walked in. "Can I talk to an adult, please?" She asked at which Connor stood up and walked over to the older woman, closing the door behind him, but not without one last look at you.

"Connor's an adult?" You questioned. Percy nodded. "I know, suprising. He turned 18 recently. But that's not the point, I don't want you hurt anymore."

"I don't care about being hurt as long as you're safe." You protested, reaching out to take his hand in yours.

"Same goes for me. I can't watch you lying in a hospital all the time. You shouldn't be involved in this, you're not a demigod, you didn't figth in the wars, you didn't do anything wrong."

"And you did?"

"I'm the son of Poseidon."

"That doesn't mean you have to risk your life to save everyone." You snap at him.

"You lost so much. You gave so much. You're risking so much... You're mother sits at home, worrying sick about you, wondering if you're still alive or not. And so do I. I can't help but think about what might happen to you if I just look away for once.. I know I don't understand, I know I'm not a demigod. But I love you, and I can't just go around, giving you more trouble than you already have. So yes, I didn't tell you."

Percy gulped, trying to blink away tears that threatned to fall. "You're so dam stubborn." "So are you." You state. "But you're just so amazing." He finished, his lips finally finding yours.

You were to weak to even let your hand rest on his cheek, but he made sure to be gentle with you.

Only the moment was ruined when Connor walked in on it. Percy pulled away, clearing his troath. "Oh uhm.. Sory.." But his brows furrowed when he saw that Connor's eyes were red, as if trying to fight the urge to cry.

"Connor?"

Connor couldn't fight the urge to 'deliver his message'. No matter how heartbreaking it might be.

"The nurse said she might not make it."

That was the moment Percy's world fell appart. Not when he fought in his first war, not when he got stuck in Tartarus, no, when he found out you could die.

"No. No, no, no. She's fine, you looks fine. See, she just spoke full sentences and-" "I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true." Connor states, pain in his tone.

"But..no.. Y/n." He turned to look at you, and he noticed to tired expression on your face. "You can't leave me. You can't die on me." Percy was basically begging at this point.

"I told you I'd do that for you." You remind him. "I thought it was metaphorically." He protests. "Was it metaphorically when you said it?"

He stayed silent before turning to look at Connor again. "Teleport to camp. You can get some nectar or embrosia. She'll be fine before we know it."

Connor sniffed. "She's human. She wouldn't be able to take it."

"Percy.." Your fingers intertwined with his. "I'm so sorry to do this to you again." "No. Y/n. You don't have any reason to apoligize. And she said you might not make it. It's not a 100% sure." He tried but you shook your head.

"I actually feel like I'm dying Percy.."

A sob could be heard from the other side of the room. "Sorry." Connor apoligized. "I just.. don't leave.. please." He begged you.

Percy wondered how long you and Connor had known each other for him to get this emotional over you.

"4 years ago. Winter break when you were on that quest to find Artemis." You informed as if you could read his mind.

That long??

That was before you even started dating.

Percy gulped. "But- he never mentioned you." "I did. I think you might have been to caught up with other things.. that's okay.." The curly haired boy said, standing by your side.

A soft sigh left your lips. "You okay?" Both demigods instantly asked you. "I just wanna sleep.." You say as if that was supposed to reassure them.

"What if you don't wake up?" Connor asked you, scared of the thought. "Well.. Than steal a nice boquette of flowers for my grave. Oh and Percy, I liked that moonlace you got from... 'Calypso'."

They both had to gulp at the thought. "I'll boy you flowers when you wake up. I'll take you on a proper date. No monster, no quests. That's a promise." Percy states at which you had to smile.

"You're making the urge to never close my eyes again so irresistable." You smiled. "Good." He decided. "BUt I need to close them.. just for a bit.." You breath out, eyes already beginning o flutter shut.

"Wake up for me?" You squeezed his hand. "I'll try."

The son of Hermes looked at you with big eyes before looking back at Percy, and Percy knew what he wanted, so he gave him a nod in approval.

Connor placed a soft, platonic kiss on your forehead, earning a smile of yours. Percy then placed one onto your soft lips. "I love you." He wishpered. "Love you more.." And with that, your eyes closed.

For the gods know how long.

Idk what this is, I don't like it tho

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lvnleah · 5 months ago

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hiya, could I request a lotte X reader where r has been away (on tour or a sports tournament or smt) and surprises lotte at training or team bonding? clingy ish lotte, team is so happy for them to be back together but teases her

two months too long | lotte wubben-moy

The sound of the wind whipping around the Arsenal training ground was the only thing Lotte could focus on as she leaned against the railing, waiting for the next drill to start. The team was lively as usual, Beth cracking jokes with Katie, Leah in a heated debate about a call in last week’s game with someone, and Kyra annoying Steph. But Lotte wasn’t entirely present.

She hadn’t been since you left for tour two months ago. It wasn’t that she wasn’t proud of you—she was, endlessly. She loved watching you perform and loved seeing how much joy your music brought to people. But two months apart felt like forever, and phone calls and texts just weren’t the same.

Alessia nudged her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. “You okay?”

Lotte forced a small smile. “Yeah, just… tired.”

Alessia smirked knowingly. “Tired or just missing someone?”

Before Lotte could respond, Jonas called for the next drill, and she jogged onto the pitch, trying to push her feelings aside. Alessia, however, stayed behind, pulling her phone out of her pocket and typing a quick message.

Alessia: You’re good to come now. She has no idea.

You parked your car a little way down from the training ground entrance, your hands slightly shaky with excitement. You’d been planning this surprise with Alessia for weeks, timing it perfectly for when the team would be wrapping up their session. She’d even managed to sneak you a visitor’s pass so you wouldn’t get stopped at the gate.

As you made your way toward the pitch, your heart raced. It had been two long months without Lotte, and you couldn’t wait to see her, to hold her again. You spotted Alessia first, her wide grin giving her away. She jogged over to meet you, quickly greeting you with a hug.

“She’s been moping all day,” Alessia said, her tone teasing but affectionate. “This is going to make her week.”

You laughed, the nerves easing slightly. “You’re sure this won’t mess up training?”

“Nah,” Alessia waved it off. “Trust me, they’ll all love this.”

Training wrapped up with Jonas giving a final set of instructions. Lotte was grabbing a water bottle when Alessia called out, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Hey, Lotte! Someone’s here to see you!”

Lotte turned, confused, her brows knitting together—until her eyes landed on you, standing by the sideline with a nervous smile.

For a second, she didn’t move, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Then, like a switch flipped, she dropped her bottle and sprinted toward you.

“Oh my God,” she said, her voice breaking slightly as she reached you. She pulled you into her arms, hugging you so tightly that you almost lost your balance.

“Hi,” you whispered, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around her neck. “Surprise.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” she mumbled against your shoulder, her voice muffled. “You’re here?”

“I’m here,” you confirmed, pulling back just enough to look at her. “I missed you too much.”

“I missed you more,” she said immediately, leaning in to kiss you.

“Alright, Lotte, let yer missus breathe!” Katie called out, earning a round of laughter from the team.

“Didn’t know you were this clingy, Lot,” Leah added with a smirk.

Lotte finally let go of you, though her arm stayed firmly around your waist as she turned to face the team. “Shut up, all of you,” she said, but her smile betrayed her, wide and uncontainable.

Jonas clapped his hands, his grin matching the rest of the team’s. “Alright, everyone, take five.”

You laughed as Lotte buried her face in your shoulder, her cheeks tinged pink. “They’re never going to let me live this down,” she muttered.

“Worth it?” you teased, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes softened as she looked at you, her smile turning tender. “Absolutely.”

As the team dispersed for their break, a few of them came over to greet you, Steph pulling you into a quick hug and Alessia shooting you a wink. Lotte, meanwhile, stayed glued to your side, her hand never leaving yours as she introduced you to her teammates like it was the first time you’d met.

By the time the session wrapped up for good, the teasing had only escalated, with Katie dubbing you “Lotte’s personal sunshine” and Leah making fake gagging noises whenever Lotte looked at you too fondly. But Lotte didn’t care.

You were back, and that was all that mattered.

#lvnleah #lotte wubben moy #awfc

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pinkdaiisies · 6 months ago

Text

Steven Meeks x Reader: Lost Poem

Words: 2350!!! (wow i didn't know I could write so much)

Summary: When Mr.Keating assigns your class to write a poem, Meeks uses it as a chance to tell you how he feels. When the poem gets in the wrong hands, it leads to some confusion. (Miscommunication trope, friends to lovers)

Notes: I'm so terribly sorry this took so long. So. So. Sorry. I hope you enjoy :) Also yes, the poem is an Elvis song lol

Mr.Keating assigned your class to write a poem to share aloud. It should've been an easy assignment. You're quite the talented writer and you've been enjoying being a part of the Dead Poets Society. But the only thing that is appearing on the paper in front of you is mushy rhymes of the nerdy redhead Steven Meeks, and that would be too embarrassing to share with the class.

Meeks' growth spurt this school year is doing wonders for him. Along with his slightly different haircut and the way his voice sounds a little deeper than you realized last may. Meeks' appearance might've changed, but the way he acted towards you hasn't. You and Meeks have been good friends throughout your years at Welton. Being one of the few girls at Welton made no difference to how you fit in with him and his friends.

You've always had a bit of a crush on the redhead, but this year it was different. You've found yourself smitten. Your head only contained thoughts of how his hand brushed against yours during breakfast yesterday, or how he offered his Latin notes to you, and only you.

You and Meeks spent almost every waking second together (with Pitts too, but that's besides the point). Nearly the whole friend group made jokes that you two were meant for each other, or that you two were dating already. It was obvious that both of you liked each other, but Meeks was too afraid to make the first move.

So now, as you stared at the lined paper in front of you, the only thing you could think of was the constellation of freckles on Steven's cheeks.

You were doomed.

In Meek's room, there was a similar situation going on. The redhead was currently contemplating whether he should use this assignment to create a heartfelt message to tell you his true feelings about you. The paper sat blank in front of him.

Steven Meeks felt like one of the luckiest guys on campus knowing that the prettiest girl at Welton was one of his close friends. Walking you to class, sitting next to you during meals, and studying together in the library was a privilege to him. Every single one of his friends knew that he was in love with you.

Everyone but you.

Pitts walked into his shared dorm. He immediately saw the look on Meeks' face and knew he was thinking about you.

"Jesus Meeks, tell the girl already!" Pitts said, as he threw a textbook on his desk.

"It's not that simple and you know that Pitts!" Meeks said. "If I tell her and she doesn't feel the same way I could lose one of my closest friends. It could break up the entire friend group! Todd and Neil will probably end up taking her side and we'd end up never seein-"

"You're overreacting Meeks." Pitts cut the boy off from his rambling. "That's not the type of girl she is. If she doesn't like you back she'll probably let you down easy."

"Gee thanks for giving me confidence." Meeks said sarcastically.

"But you don't even have to worry about that because she likes you back! Like I've said for the millionth time!" Pitts tried to reassure Meeks. "Now write that girl a love poem!"

---

You had decided to write your poem on rainy days. You couldn't stand the thought of your entire English class knowing who you have a crush on. Your day carried on with less anxiety knowing your poem no longer had the potential to embarrass the crap out of you.

Meeks seemed the exact opposite. He was jumping at every time you tapped his shoulder to get his attention, or every time you nudged him because he wasn't focused in Latin. You knew something was wrong because Latin was his favorite.

English class approached quickly. Meeks' face got paler by the second. Instead of walking together from Latin to Keating's class, he walked with Pitts. The pair walked into class while you were still down the hallway. You noticed a sheet of folded paper at your feet.

You picked it up and unfolded it. You recognized the handwriting immediately, as well as the "S.M" in the corner. You figured it must've been his poem for class. Before you walked through the door you stopped and read it.

It was titled "I Love You Because." Your heart fell to the bottom of your stomach.

I love you because you understand Every single thing I try to do You're always there to lend a helping hand, I love you most of all because you're you

No matter what may be the style or season I know your heart will always be true I love you for a hundred thousand reasons But most of all I love you 'cause you're you

You felt sick. You almost walked back to your dorm right then and there. Instead, you stuffed his love poem for some other girl into the middle of your poetry textbook and stormed into the class.

Instead of sitting in your usual chair next to Steven, you sat in the back near Charlie. When you sat down, Charlie noticed the bothered look on your face immediately.

"Why aren't you sitting with your boyfriend?" Charlie nodded his head towards Steven in the front.

"If you're referring to Steven, I have no idea what you're talking about, because he is far from my boyfriend." You said while not making eye contact with Charlie. Instead your focus was on stuffing Stevens love poem further into your book, as if it would make the words on the paper disappear.

Keating then walked into the room. Meeks noticed the seat beside him was sat in, but not by you. He looked around the room behind him, and noticed you with a sad look on your face. His attention turned to Keating when he started talking.

"Be prepared to share your poem today class!" Keating started.

Everyone shuffled their books around and pulled out the pieces of paper that contained their poem. Meeks realized that his was missing. His heart started beating faster. He could've sworn he put it in the front cover of his textbook!

Mr. Keating then started calling people up one by one to read their poem aloud. You paid no attention to the first boy that read his poem. Instead, your brain ran through the 7 girls in your class that Steven's poem could be about. It was probably the other girl in your Latin class that Steven smiled at last week! As you raged silently in your seat, Mr. Keating called Meeks up to read his poem that sat in your bag.

"Mr. Steven Meeks?"

"I'm sorry Sir, I can't seem to find it. I promise I did write one!" Meeks said worriedly.

"My! I expect this behavior from Mr. Dalton, not you Meeks!" The class laughed, while Meeks' face reddened. "It's okay, although, I expect the poem on my desk tomorrow."

"Yes Captain." Meeks said as he shrunk down in his seat.

More students read their poems, and before you could even realize, class was over. Mr.Keating said that those who didn't read their poem that day would read it the next day.

The class stood from their seats, and started to exit. Meeks walked out and waited for you by the door. You rushed out the door with Steven's poem in your hand. You pushed the poem into his chest as you walked out the door.

"Here, I think you dropped this earlier. Whoever it's for will probably want to read it." You stormed off, tears almost coming out of your eyes. You wanted to get away from everyone. You knew Charlie or Pitts would come to interrogate you soon. Luckily, English was your last class for the day, so you were able to lock yourself in your room until dinner.

Meanwhile, Steven was walking down the halls of Welton with Pitts by his side, poem still in hand. Steven was confused to say the least.

"You said she liked me! Everyone said that she liked me!" Meeks said.

"She does like you! At least I think she does..." Pitts tried to reassure Meeks. "Can you tell me her exact words again?" Pitts said as Charlie walked up.

"She said, "Whoever it's for will probably want to read it." What does that even mean? It was for her!" Meeks said. The poor boy looked so defeated. Charlie put his arm around Meeks.

"What happened Meeksie?" Charlie asked.

"Meeks' girlfriend, well I'm not sure if I should call her that anymore, found Meeks' lost poem. It was a love poem to tell her how he feels. And she got mad and said, "Whoever it's for will probably want to read it."" Pitts voice squeaked as he tried to immitate you. "And she threw it in his chest."

"Is that why she sat next to me today?" Charlie wondered. "She seemed pretty sad the whole class. I even called her your girlfriend Meeks, she usually gets all giggly when I call her that, but today she just got all upset." Charlie explained. "Well she's obviously jealous."

"What do you mean she's jealous? The poem was for her!" Meeks said.

"Meeks you're a Latin genius, but God, you're stupid when it comes to girls. She obviously thinks you wrote the poem for some other girl." Charlie said as if it was the most simplest thing ever.

Then it all made sense. Pitts and Steven both had the lightbulb expression on their faces.

"Well that's great! She still likes you!" Pitts said jumping up and down while shoving Meeks playfully.

"Yeah, but I still hurt her. She's in her dorm right now thinking I'm in love with some other girl.

"How are you gonna tell her? Charlie asked.

"I'm not exactly sure, but I think I'm gonna need Neil's help."

----

The next day was Friday.

Friday was usually filled with joy and laughter throughout the Welton halls, but with not having Steven by your side all day, was filled with dreary and sorrow.

Neil had invited you to dinner in town that night. It took a lot of convincing. You had originally planned to sit in your dorm all weekend reading. But when you told Neil you wouldn't be joining him at the Dead Poet's Society meeting he at least wanted to take you out to eat.

It was sweet of him. Word had probably spread about how heartbroken you were about Meeks not liking you back. He probably invited you for dinner because he felt bad.

And so, after a long day of classes, you put on one of your nicer dresses, did your makeup, and curled your hair. The plan was to meet Neil in front of the school so the cab can pick you both up.

It was 6:35, but still no sign of Neil. Your reservations were for 7, and you hated being late. As anxiety creeped in your brain, you noticed someone who was most definitely not Neil walking towards you.

Steven was walking towards you, bouquet and crumpled piece of paper in hand. He was wearing his argyle sweater that you had said was your favorite once.

"Meeks, no." You whispered beneath your breath. You felt so embarrassed! You had no idea what he was doing.

He said your name when he was finally a couple feet away from you. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, something he only did when he was nervous.

"I love you because you understand Every single thing I try to do You're always there to lend a helping hand, I love you most of all because you're you

No matter what may be the style or season I know your heart will always be true I love you for a hundred thousand reasons But most of all I love you 'cause you're you"

You looked at the boy standing in front of you, the flowers in his hand, and the deep red blush that was staining his cheeks. You were in love.

"The poem was for me?" You asked him.

"Yes. Of course it is." Meeks smiled. "Oh! These are for you!" His shaking hand reached out and gave you the bouquet. They were your favorite flowers. You grabbed them from him, fingers touching for a split second.

"Oh gosh Meeks, I feel so dumb." You put your hand on your forehead in embarrassment. "Thank you Meeks. I love it, the poem, and the flowers." An awkward silence fell between you two. You didn't know how to handle the newfound affection... and neither did Meeks.

"Do you mean it... the poem?" You asked, still not completely sure if you were dreaming or not.

"Of course I do." Steven said quietly. He took a step closer, faces almost touching. The tension was split apart by the cab pulling up.

"I love you too Steven." You confessed, sighing a breath of relief.

All of a sudden there was loud shouting and celebration around the side of the building. All of the Dead Poets came rushing to you and Meeks.

"Can I be the maid of honor!" Charlie asked you while tugging on the sleeve of your dress.

"Hey! I should be the maid of honor! She wouldn't be out here if I wasn't supposed to be taking her to dinner right now!" Neil argued, and reminded you of the cab a couple feet away.

"Alright, alright! We gotta go! Leave my girl alone." Meeks said while opening the door of the car for you.

Hearing him say "my girl" was enough for you to faint right then and there.

You stepped in the car and told the rest of the boys goodbye.

After Steven got in and sat right next to you, the cab drove off. The group of rowdy boys still jumping in excitement in front of the school.

Steven waited until the car was out of eyesight from the boys before he held your cheek and kissed you.

#steven meeks x reader #dead poets society fanfic #Meeks x reader #dead poets society

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callikari · 3 months ago

Text

TWEETS TO RiKi — nishimura riki

3. ARE U SERIOUS

riki sighed, standing in the doorway of rei’s dorm with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. the room smelled like a mix of fruity soju and someone’s spilled perfume, and the mess of half-empty snack bags on the table made it obvious just how much fun you and your friends had been having.

but riki wasn’t here to admire the disaster. he was here because rei had texted him, saying you were way too drunk to make it back to your dorm alone.

his eyes landed on you, curled up against the couch, lazily kicking your legs as eunchae dramatically retold a story. sohee and belle were too busy stacking empty soju bottles into some kind of architectural masterpiece to notice him, but rei, the only one who looked remotely sober, glanced up and shot him a knowing look.

“she’s not gonna make it back on her own,” rei said, motioning toward you. “you’re up, boyfriend duty.”

riki rolled his eyes. “not her boyfriend.”

rei smirked but didn’t argue. instead, she nudged you lightly. “yn, look who’s here.”

you blinked, your blurry gaze shifting up toward him. then, to his complete confusion, your face lit up.

“riki!” you cheered, a bright grin spreading across your lips as you reached your arms out toward him like a little kid.

riki blinked, caught completely off guard. what?

you had been cold to him all day. ever since this morning, when he caught you glaring at him for some reason he still didn’t understand. he had tried to joke with you at lunch—nothing. you barely said two words to him before brushing him off. he had figured you were just pissed at him about something, but now, here you were, looking at him like he just brought you the moon.

“what is wrong with you?” riki muttered, stepping closer and crossing his arms.

you just giggled, still holding your arms out. “hug.”

rei snorted, and sohee smirked from the couch. “dude, just pick her up and go before she passes out.”

riki exhaled through his nose before bending down and effortlessly scooping you into his arms. you gasped at the sudden movement, your hands automatically gripping his hoodie.

"you’re so warm,” you mumbled, nuzzling into his shoulder.

riki felt his ears heat up, but he only tightened his grip on you. “yeah, yeah. just don’t throw up on me.”

“no promises.”

eunchae cackled from the couch, and rei waved dramatically. “good luck!”

riki just rolled his eyes before heading out the door, adjusting his grip on you as he made his way down the dorm hallway. he glanced down at your sleepy face, still curled up against him, and sighed.

whatever this was about, he was gonna get answers in the morning.

the next day !! ...

you stared blankly at the messages on your screen, your brain short-circuiting. riki… carried you? back to your dorm? no way.

slowly, you turned your head, and sure enough, there he was—sitting at his desk, scrolling on his phone like it was just another morning, like he hadn’t apparently played knight in shining armor last night.

you narrowed your eyes. he thinks he can just act normal after that?

“nishimura riki,” you called, voice deadly calm.

his head lifted slightly, but his attention stayed on his phone. “yeah?”

you sat up, tossing your blanket off dramatically. “what did you do?”

now, that got his attention. he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised. “huh?”

“don’t ‘huh’ me!” you huffed, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at him. “you carried me back here?”

riki blinked. “oh. yeah.”

oh. yeah?

you gawked at him. “that’s all you have to say?!”

he set his phone down, finally meeting your gaze with an amused smirk. “what else am i supposed to say? you were drunk off your ass and could barely stand. what, did you think i was just gonna leave you there?”

“yes!—i mean, no! i mean—ugh!” you ran a hand down your face. “you carried me, riki. do you realize how embarrassing that is?”

he shrugged, looking entirely too nonchalant for your liking. “not really.”

you grabbed your pillow and threw it at him. unfortunately, he caught it effortlessly.

“i hate you,” you muttered, flopping back onto your bed.

riki chuckled, pulling out his phone. “no, you don’t.”

previous | masterlist | next

AUTHORS NOTE — writing drunk yn was .... very hard to write !

TWEETS TO RiKi taglist — @parkjjongswifey @stormy1408 @paradiseoflosers @blodwyn4u @lov4hoon @gyuudai @kittsnewera @rikidaze @notcamii @jvngw0nlvr @r1naqv @nishikio @pkjay

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zxvmp · 1 year ago

Text

DTF? (Denki x Fem!Reader)

summary: it’s the weekend, so you and your classmates decide to celebrate your off days partying. where would be a better place to party than the club? What you didn’t think would happen was hooking up with Kaminari.

tags: alcohol, underage drinking, smut, improper quirk usage, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys), vaginal sex, roughness, skin marking

a/n: not proof read, so sorry for any errors 😩

You scrambled through your dresser drawers looking for an outfit. If you were going out with your classmates, you wanted to look extra good. There weren’t many opportunities for you to dress up and look good, so you wanted to take advantage of this opportunity.

It was Mina’s idea to sneak out when Aizawa fell asleep. The club was your idea. It took a bunch of convincing Yaoyarozu to create fake ID’s for everyone. Not to mention getting Ida to not snitch. He agreed to be on watch out for you all in case Aizawa got up.

The plan was perfect.

You pulled out a short, skimpy bright red dress that looked like a stripper would wear. It shocked you that you even owned such a thing. You thought it was a bit too much, but you really didn’t have anything else. Plus, you were sure the other girls would wear similar things.

Once the hallways started to silence, you took the time to get ready and patiently wait for a text message. You wore your hair down with a slight curls at the ends. Your makeup was subtle, just mascara, blush, and lipgloss.

As your phone buzzed on your nightstand, you applied your finishing touches and checked your phone.

Mina 🩷

alr guyss

we’re in the clear! 😍

meet up in the front quickly!! (1:02 a.m.)

Kirishima 🪨

awesome 😎

i’m so pumped

Mineta 😐

me too 🤤

*Jirou, You, Yaoyarozu, Uraraka, & others disliked Minetas message*

You slid on white high-top converse and quietly opened your door. Since you didn’t own any heels, your converse were just going to have to do. Plus, you didn’t want to deal with sore ankles the next day.

The walk down to the front doors was difficult. Mostly because everyone was containing their laughter from trying to be quiet. It didn’t help that Denki accidentally tripped down the stairs, causing a loud bang to roar throughout the staircase.

Once you all made it to the front, Denki used small voltages to disable to cameras set up. After all of the cameras were disabled, you booked it towards the front gates where multiple taxis were parked. You made a mental note to thank Yaoyarozu for paying for them.

You ended up jn a taxi with Denki, Mina, and Kirishima. The four of you were known as the planners for party situations. It was a tight squeeze in the backseat, but you all managed. You were in between Mina and Denki.

To help pass time, you played mini games on your phone. As you played your games, you noticed you forgot to charge your phone. You let out a sad sigh and disregarded the low battery notification.

Denki heard your sigh and turned his head to notice your low battery. “I got you.” He pointed a finger at your phone and used his quirk to charge your phone.

You gave him a smile, “Thanks.”

He nodded and turned his head to continue talking to Kirishima. However, your eyes were left lingering on him. He wore a black dressed shirt that was slightly unbuttoned with a gold chain. For pants, he wore black baggy jeans. An all-black combo. His cologne entered your nostrils which made you start to realize how attractive Denki actually was. You knew he was hot, but tonight he looked better than usual.

Seeing him now really set something off in you.

“Whatcha lookin at?” Mina whispered, nudging you playfully.

You bit back a smile and nudged her back, “Stop.”

Mina giggled, “C’mon just say it’s already! You think he’s hot.”

Just before you could raise your hand to silence her, Kirishima caught your attention.

“Yo, we’re here!” Kirishima excitedly hopped out the car. Denki gave you a quick glance before hopping out shortly after.

You looked back at Mina and she raised and dropped her eyebrows playfully, making you roll your eyes.

As you scooted towards the door of the car, Denki stood outside with his hand out. You paused before taking his hand.

“What’s up with all these kind gestures? You’re usually always finding a way to annoy me.”

Denki laughed, “Who says i’m still not finding ways?”

You let out a small yelp and jolted at the sudden feeling of a shock. “Ow!”

While Denki was in a laughing state, you took your chance to activate your quirk. You raised your hand and summoned a water hand to follow your action. A loud slapping sound echoed throughout the crowd, causing some people to turn back and look at the two of you.

“OW! Mine did NOT hurt that much.” Denki rubbed his cheek and wiped a tear that formed in his eye.

You snickered, “C’mon, half of them already made it in.”

Loud music played throughout the club. You were already five shots in of the 10 minutes of being there.

“Damn (Y/N), you do this often?” Kirishima watched as you downed a shot, amazed at how you were in the lead.

You, Denki, Mina, Kirishima, Bakugo, and Yaoyarozu were all in a drinking competition. At first, it started off with the whole class. But after three shots, multiple people tapped out.

“Nope, maybe you guys are just lightweight.” You wink, finishing another shot. In truth, you really didn’t know how you were managing multiple shots.

Bakugo snatched the shot you were reaching for before you could grab it, “Shut you damn weirdo, I won’t allow you to beat me.”

You giggled, “Alright tough guy, I was about to tap out anyways.”

And thank god you did. While you watched the others compete to drink, it all hit you. You were cheering on Denki as it happened. In one blink, your vision became slower and you could feel your body become fuzzy.

“Damn, you guys look fucked up.” Mina laughed, nudging Kirishima to look.

“How many did you guys take?!” Kirishima burst out laughing.

You looked over at Denki and noticed his eyes were half-lidded and a drunk smirk was plastered on his lips. The two of you help eye contact before he broke it.

“Wayyy more than you.”

You giggled, “Yeah!”

“Whatever, i’m gonna go find someone to dance with.” Mina got up and disappeared into the large crowd of people.

You decided dancing was a good idea and began dragging Denki into the crowd without a thought. Flashing lights were displayed everywhere and you could feel strangers brush up against you every other second.

“Awe you wanna dance with me?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I’m bored.”

At first, it started with the two of you singing your heart out to a justin beiber song. Mina probably managed to sneak in a song request because you knew it was her favorite song. Then, as the music began to drift off to other songs, you found yourself dancing against Denki.

His hands were rested on your hips while your back was against his stomach. You felt so free and loose drunk. It was amazing. Not to mention the rush of excitement you felt whenever you’d occasionally grind your ass against Denkis crotch. You could tell he enjoyed it from the way his grip on your hips would change.

You felt goosebumps form on your neck when you felt Denki kneel down to your level to rest his head on your shoulder. You turned your head slightly and caught his eyes.

In that moment, it was like everything around you was a blur. It was only you and Denki. His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips. You felt the urge to kiss him. He must’ve felt the same thing, because he beat you to it.

His lips were on yours in an instant. You gasped into the kiss when you felt his hands slowly move around your body. The kiss escalated quickly. You turned around to wrap your arms around his neck for a better angle.

After a while, you both pulled away to catch your breath. You stared up into his yellow eyes admiring his handsome face. Behind his half-lidded eyes, you could tell his gaze was filled with lust. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t aroused either.

A smirk formed on your lips, “Down to fuck?”

It was a risky gamble. As everyone began to head back to their dorm rooms, you managed to sneak into Denki’s unnoticed.

The second the two of you reached his room, your hands were all over each other. A trail of clothes and shoes were led up to his bed. Soft moans escaped your mouth as his mouth attacked your skin. One of his hands were placed beside your head while the other was slowly making its way down your thighs.

You gripped his forearm when you felt his middle finger run down your slit. His smirk deepens and you could he was enjoying every moment of this. He loved the way your facial expressions changed with each touch. It’s like he knew your weaknesses.

“Had a feeling you liked me.” He inserted his ring and middle finger, making you whine, “Tell me i’m wrong.”

“What…?” You breathe out. Your mind was focused on the way his fingers were plunging in and out of you. The alcohol in your system made you sensitive to any and every touch.

“C’mon, you don’t think I tease you all the time just for fun? I do it because I know you like it.” His pace increased, “I mean, when I didn’t hear you deny Mina, it all started to piece together.”

You were at a loss for words. You’d have to kill Mina later for her loud mouth.

“If you knew, why are you trying to get it out of me n-now?” You words were mushing together from the sensations you were feeling. Denkis fingers were curling up into you at a perfect angle.

He giggled, “I dunno, just wanted to hear it from you.”

Before you could say anything else, you were cut off by the waves of electricity coursing throughout your body. Denki placed his thumb on your clit and used his quirk to stimulate you more. You never thought such a feeling could make you feel so good.

A loud moan echoed in his room and you felt a knot form in your stomach. Through your blurred vision, you could see that Denki was in awe.

“Fuck..”

His lips crashed onto yours and you could feel another shock jolt your body. With a final thrust of his fingers, you came undone. Your release coated his fingers and you were almost embarrassed at the sight.

“Think you can take some more, pretty girl?” Denki brought his fingers up to his mouth to lick them clean.

Watching him do so sparked something in your body you never thought would. You nodded your head to his question as you calmed down from your high.

Denki had a pretty good size for a dick, much bigger than you imagined. Watching him slide in was definitely the highlight of your night. Both of you groaned in unison once he was fully in. You felt so full.

You threw your head back and closed your eyes once he began to thrust. He started of slow so the two of you could adjust to the euphoric feeling.

“Fuck—Denki, keep going.” You muttered in between quick breaths. He felt so good inside of you. It was a perfect fit.

He let in a sharp inhale when you clenched around him, “Whatever you say, angel.”

His nicknames made your heart swoon. Once his pace picked up, you clutched the bedsheets beneath you. The grip his hands had on your hips was brutal and sure to leave markings in the morning, but you didn’t care. Not when you felt like that.

Your breaths started to become erratic, and you could tell from the way his thrust started to become sloppy, he was close.

“Denki-”

He groaned, “Yes?”

“After this, what are we?”

He smiled and planted a kiss on your forehead, “Whatever you want us to be.”

You smiled and hooked your arms around his neck to bring him into a kiss. Denki brought a hand up to your cheek and traced circles with his thumb. You turned into mush under his touch. He was truly your weakness, and you were totally okay with that.

“Tell me if it’s too much, mkay?”

You nodded and unhooked your arms from his neck. His hands returned to your hips and you felt his pace pick up again. However, his thumb began to circle your clit with his quirk playing a role, sending you over the edge. You were a moaning mess.

The voltage of electricity had you seeing stars and feeling things you didn’t think you could ever achieve. No man has ever made you feel that way.

Nothing but moans and broken cries came out your mouth. Denki was enjoying every second of it. Hell, if he could hear you and watch you crumble like this everyday he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Without warning, your body began to spasm and an intense orgasm took over your body. Denki continued to thrust into you, chasing his own high.

“Ah—Denki!”

“I know babe, just give me a couple more seconds.”

Your mind went blank and your ears began to ring. After a couple minutes, you began to snap back to reality. Your eyes traveled down to see Denki cleaning your stomach with a T-shirt. You mentally thanked him for not finishing inside of you.

You snickered.

“What? It’s all I had.”

“Thank you, now let’s sleep. I’m exhausted.”

He tossed the dirty T-shirt to the side and crawled up next to you. You pulled a blanket over your bodies and slowly drifted off to sleep. You had a lot to discuss in the morning.

#denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #kaminari smut #denki smut #mha fanfiction #drinking #partying

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