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dalyntha · 4 months

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I swung my open hand in the dark, trying to find the light switch, the door handle, his face. Hot panic rushed through me and settled in my gut, making me feel like I needed to throw up. I had to get out of here, and I had to do it quickly, before he found me in the dark. I heard him moving just then, right as the urge to run replayed endlessly in my head. I backed up, heels touching a mountain of empty, freezing milk crates. And then he was there, in the cold of the dairy being maintained around us, but my heart pounded warmth through my veins. I maneuvered around him, sensing barely, him…his location, and as the timing was right, I pushed him hard, one good, vengeance filled shove…into the milk crates behind him. No vision but loud crashes, first the crates hitting the hard freezer floor, and then his body, a sick thud. I ran toward what I thought was the door, and fumbling for the handle, I managed to wrench it open. Out of the icy door I went, to the emptiness of the back room. Rows of boxes and carts and other things were lined up around me. A coat rack with a puffy blue coat, belonging to the daytime dairy man. He spent most of his time in the cold of the freezer, and needed it to keep warm enough to do his job. Thirty years putting milk on the shelf in his coats. How many had he had? Did he ever feel his life slipping away, day after day, putting butter and sour cream on the shelves so my mother could make macaroni and cheese? Life, slipping away. His life, in the freezer floor, seeping away. I knew I was in trouble. I’d heard his head hit the floor with that sick thud, and I was surprised that instead of panicking, I just stood, wide eyed and staring at that fluffy blue coat. Would his blood congeal on the floor of the freezer? Would he be able to make it if I called for help right now?

Did I want to get him help? Or did I want it to finally end, the days of him following me, haunting me? It could be over so swiftly, it could all be finished. He’d locked ME in the freezer with him that night when we were closing the store. He’d tried to hurt ME. That was when I decided to be done with all of it, for better or for good. I went through the store, finishing everything, counting money and putting it all in the safe. Lights, keys, all of it a blur…I told myself to just keep going until I was done, until it was all finally done.

Out to the parking lot, I went towards his old white truck. He’d parked it next to my little silver Toyota, again. I’d pilfered his keys from his locker in the break room, along with anything else I thought I might need of his. Into the truck I went, and a mile down the road, I pulled it over at the pay phone hidden in the extra parking lot no one used any more for tourists. And that was when everything got a little bit better. I called my best friend in the whole world, and told her to get in her truck and get to town. It was 11 pm at this point, town was dead but I still scanned every street I went down in absolute terror of seeing someone I knew or worse, a cop. He had a bad history with the police and they knew his truck. That’s why, after getting as close to Maggie as I could, I parked the glaring white piece of evidence behind a bunch of bushes in a motel parking lot.

She pulled in a few minutes later, and that’s when I told her what I’d done. It was self defense! She said. He deserved it! She said. Yes, yes, of course she’d help me. It would all be ok. But first, we had to figure out what we were going to do with him.

It was 1996 and there simply were no cameras, so we unabashedly drove in her ford ranger back behind the grocery store, to a loading dock, and turned off the lights. In the back we went, her and I holding hands, breaths hot and ragged and afraid, two girls cleaning up the mess of a lifetime. The freezer door opened with a creak, and we stared at each other in the dim light of the flashlight I’d taken from her truck, terrified but ready for whatever we saw.

There he was, splayed amongst the knocked down milk crates, a gaping wound in his head, blood indeed congealed on the cold stone floor.

Maggie threw up instantly, the faint odor of refrigerated blood in the air, mixed oddly with soured milk. Something had gone bad. She apologized to me for what seemed like five minutes, all the while cleaning up her sick with paper towels and a trash bag. DNA was a thing, I thought to myself. How could I get her involved in this? 16 and 17 we were, and neither of us prepared for body disposal. I tried to calm her down.

“Hey, remember how you want to go into the army, girly?” I said, gently.

“Well yeah, I want to do something good with my life”

I nodded. “Well, this will help prepare you. Think of it as training. Right? He WAS a bad guy, wasn’t he? My brows furrowed together and I felt her arm go around my shoulders. “Yes, yes he was. Too many times you’ve let him get away with harassing or hurting you. Let’s end this” I felt my resolve build, I could do this, I had to do this. I grabbed the rest of the trash bags we’d stolen off of the shelf. Extra strength, for removing bodies of 6 foot 2 men, for all those testy messes, for things you don’t ever want to see again. I went over to his ugly, oozing face, and without looking at him too closely, I picked up his head with a trash bag, and wrapped the length of it around his entire head. Wrapping it around, and then adding another bag, I lost myself in the tedious tying of the drawstrings…was this real? Hot tears ran down my cheeks, the dna….dont leave dna…

Looking at Maggie I noticed she was standing completely still, staring at me, her grip on the flashlight almost non existent. I grabbed her wrist to steady her hand, afraid of the noise, as if it might wake up the corpse in front of me, or alert the national guard. “Mags, it’s ok, I’m just pretending like it’s nothing. You can do it too. He was nothing. He was.”

She nodded. “Remember that time when I scared you really bad, we were watching that scary movie during a thunderstorm, you had to pee, and I purposely scared you on the way there, and you peed your pants?”

I normally would have laughed at the memory, but the gravity of the situation made me question her timing.

“Yes, I remember that. Your neighbor came to the door right after and scared you too, right? But why are you mentioning this now? Don’t tell me you have to pee!”

She swallowed. “No, no I don’t have to pee. I just wanted to tell you, I was ready to kill the neighbor, I was so scared. This whole thing could have happened to me. This whole night”

I’d gone back over to the….body….and started putting his dirty booted feet into another trash bag. I loooed at her, all skinny 5 foot 10 freezing inches of her. It was July in the south, but right now it was the dead of winter in a mountain of crates and blood.

“Well, Mags, I suppose if that had happened we would have just called 911 or something”

Her: “uh huh. Like now. Like how we are calling 911 now. You’re 16 and you killed a man. We are both going to jail for the rest of our lives. I’m never going to see my mother again. What will I do?”

At this point I was tired of maneuvering 180 pounds of dead weight into trash bags. “Listen, we aren’t going to jail, unless you don’t shush and help me get this asshole into this box of hefty bags”

At that moment she laughed, a trilling in the air. It was musical and out of place. I thought of all the car rides we had taken, listening to music, our hair in the wind of the open windows. Would it ever be that easy again? Would I ever relax and enjoy the wind or even music again?

Maggie went to work with the trash bags and crappy tape she had gotten from the office supplies. Unfortunately I hadn’t been employed by a hardware store, and the tape just wouldn’t stick. Resourceful as ever, I had run to the produce section and grabbed several lengths of twine I had found. She’d stayed with…him…and was spooked as could be when I had returned.

She wound some around his ankles, while I wrapped his torso and arms. We didn’t have a lot of experience at this, surprisingly, and it was tedious work. A hose and bleach I thought, that’s the only thing that will do, but how would I cover up the telltale signs of bleach? How would I ever return things to how they had been before the jerk had chased me in there?

One thing at a time.

We drug him slowly onto a giant tarp that Maggie had grabbed from the gardening greenhouse set up in the parking lot. It was used to cover up plants at night, that was all it took to ward off thieves. A tarp. And here I was, using it to clean up a murder.

A murder… a murder…. a murder of crows, crows flying away, far away, where no one could pin them down and pluck out their feathers. Where no one knew them and no one cared what they’d done. Murder she wrote, she did, she had done. What a funny word, I thought. Mur-der. It sounded silly. It sounded terribly silly that I had done it, the murrrrrdeerrrr.

It’s funny how at times like this, when you’re pulling at the feet of your constant assailant, when your best friend in the whole world is pushing his broad, mean shoulders. When you’re questioning whether you’ll see 18 outside of a jail cell. Gulty they’ll say, guilty of second degree murrrrrrrderrrrr. It would be second degree right? It wasn’t intentional. Or was it? I had wanted him to leave me alone for a long time. It’s funny how at these times you just roll words around and laugh at how odd it all is.

It wasn’t far to get him, shoving and pulling and cursing, to the back door. It was the door where we didn’t know how to proceed. We had to hold it open, get him out, and into her truck…

It was at this point that the worst thing possible happened. He…moved.

“HOLY SHIT MAGGIE! He’s fucking alive!!!”

I barely contained a scream, I wasn’t sure if anyone could hear me, but I was deathly afraid that HE could, and that’s all that mattered.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god….THIS IS JUST LIKE THE MOVIE! He’s re-fucking animated!” I felt like I was in a Quentin Tarantino movie. I couldn’t believe my freezing cold corpse that had been lying in its own ick was moving.

“Maggie! -barely a whisper-Maggie, he’s alive. He’s not a zombie. He’s alive somehow. What the hell are we gonna do?”

He moved again, almost struggling against the trash bags and twine, the crappy tape flapping in long segments but not sticking, making him look like a very badly decorated Christmas tree, wrapped in trash bags and thrown out to be picked up, its tinsel all aflutter. Maggie was still, petrified.

“Ugh, my fucking head”….muttered the evil trash bag Christmas tree amalgamation.

“My fucking…YOU BITCH…you did this, get me out of these!!” His efforts to remove our shabby job were effective. His head was free at this point, and he squinted at us, touching the raw gash on his head. “You fucking cunt, you almost killed me. I need a doctor—oh holy shit! You wrapped me in TRASH BAGS? Did you think I was dead and you were going to just get rid of me?” He started laughing, almost maniacally, “hahaha you are so fucking done. Both of you. You should have just done what I told you!”

I looked at Maggie. Maggie stared at me, her eyes wide, searching me for a solution. I glanced at my “victim” and saw he was still struggling with his legs, so I did the only thing I thought we could do.

“Maggie! RUN! The truck!”

Maggie gave me a quick nod and was off. An avid athlete, her roller blading every day had given her a lot of stamina, not to mention the other sports she did. I knew she’d be okay. I was quick on her tail, trying not to look back at the demon that was now screaming in rage…”GET BACK HERE AND UNTIE ME YOU BITCHES!!! son of a BITCH!!”

I could have sworn at that moment I heard Maggie giggle a little. I decided it has to be the crazy, traumatic things happening to my brain. It wasn’t too far til we got to her little blue truck. We both hopped in, without even thinking, and she started the keys we’d left in the ignition and peeled away from the black top of the parking lot.

The summer air was thick, our windows rolled down like always but no breeze to speak of in our hair. No music pounded out of her speakers, either. All I could really hear was the motor of her truck, the sounds of her wheels against the pavement, and the gentle clink of her keychain against the steering column of her truck.

A mile away again and almost to where we had stashed “his” truck, she glanced at me, silently asking me what to do. I hung my head. It was done. There simply wasn’t anything we could do but tell the truth. You’d think at this point we would call the police but we couldn’t, mostly because my dad was the police.

A commanding officer, a sergeant…and his daughter had attempted murder, Murr-DERR, and then tried to cover the whole thing up. We hadn’t even cleaned the congealed blood off of the dairy freezer floor. We were in so much trouble, and I didn’t need to get grounded on top of going to jail.

So we drove back into the abandoned parking lot, to that same payphone, and almost two hours after my first phone call, I picked up the receiver again.

The clank of the coins as they went into the oayphone. The squish of the metal buttons under my fingertips. I dialed the only person I thought would help me. And help me he did.

He was the owners son, a nice man that had stuck his neck out for me. I told him there’d been an accident at the store, that I needed him to come quickly, and no, I couldn’t call the police for help. He trusted me, as he had many times before when I’d gone to him with issues in the store. He’d been my advocate, and had given me promotions and chances most 16-year-olds would never have.

Fifteen minutes later, as fast as he could be, he pulled into the parking lot. He was about 30, not very old but ancient to me at that time. I saw him as a father figure, but instead of the cackling, sarcastic and hard man my father had been, he was soft and kind and sweet. He drove up to my window, his big truck idling, and I looked up at him. His truck had to be three feet taller than Maggie’s: he had a farm too, and used it all the time for hay and things. He’d often come to pick me up for work when I couldn’t drive in the snow. He was a reliable guy.

His eyebrows lifted, and he looked concerned. His dad and brother were always up his ass about the store, since he was in charge of the employees. I couldn’t help but cry for real now, no fear of DNA, tears rolling down my cheeks. I couldn’t talk.

Maggie’s voice caught a bit in her throat, as she tried to address him. “She…well, he…he chased her into the freezer with the lights off. He came at her and she shoved him and—-

“—-we thought he was dead” I croaked

My boss looked shocked. “Dead? Like, how?”

“I pushed, I pu-pu-pushed him off of me. He’s been stalking me. Harassing me at work. He won’t leave me alone. I didn’t want to close with him but I was too ashamed to say anything”

I sobbed heavily into my work smock, just now realizing I was still wearing it. Luckily it was red, I thought, good for blood.

My boss cleared his throat. “Follow me back to the store, let’s get this taken care of”

And that’s what we did. Maggie and I solemnly turned her truck around, and followed him the mile back to the store. The crime scene. My last stand. Around the back he went, pulling his big truck up to the back and blocking my vision of the still open back door. Maggie had propped it open with a barrel from the back area.

My boss jumped out of his truck and eyed me, all the while retrieving a handgun from the cab of his truck. “stay. There.” He mouthed. Maggie reached for my hand, fear in her eyes. My boss wasn’t a big guy. There was no sign of the prick I’d left nearly hog tied in trash bags. My boss silently went into the back of the store, and for whatever reason, we both rolled up our windows and locked the doors.

A minute went by, maybe.

I stared at the back door, shaking, afraid he was going to jump out of nowhere and make me pee my pants, at the very least, just like that night with Maggie. That innocent night when I was still just a kid that hadn’t done awful things.

And that’s when I heard, we heard….two shots, in rapid succession. Ping ping! It sounded like. I’d heard my dad practice shooting before, and this sounded very different. Like it was inside a vault, muffled.

My boss came running out of the back door just seconds later, frantic, gun in hand.

He looked straight at us again, waving his free hand, yelling “go!”

“GO HOME!” He yelled.

Maggie didn’t think twice, spinning her tires on the gravel as we peeled out of the back lot again. I had no idea what was happening back there, and I was terrified for my boss, myself, for Maggie, even though we were speeding down the highway so fast I had to remind Maggie that the speed limit was only 40.

Maggie and I did just that. We went to my house. We concocted a story about her getting me from work, thus leaving my car, and we’d gone back to her house before coming home because she’d forgotten her medicine, we said. Lying was nothing now. The lies spilled out of my mouth at my mother as we pushed past to go to my room. I didn’t care if I got grounded. I didn’t care if I ever went to work again, for sure.

———-

The next morning, Maggie and I, unable to sleep at all, wandered into the kitchen to see if my parents had anything to eat. I didn’t want to eat, but my stomach was screaming and Maggie had to eat every few hours or she’d have low blood sugar and crash. We were only teenagers after all, we couldn’t go dispose of not-so-dead bodies for half of the night and not eat anything. I shoved dry toast into my mouth as i heard, to my absolute dread, the door opening, and the sound of my dad’s heavy, armed steps following it. “Oh noooo, I thought. Oh no no oh no”

My dad rounded the corner. He caught me and Maggie standing near the sink, and gave us a thoughtful glance. “Well, guess it was good Maggie picked you up before all hell broke loose last night”

Oh no. Oh no oh no, he knew something. Ohhhh noooooooooooo.

I acted dumb. Which wasn’t hard. Especially at this point. “Eh-what, what do you mean?”

My dad was taking off his police stuff, dumping bullwts and keys and handcuffs all over my mother’s clean kitchen table. “Well, seems like that little prick that you worked with last night decided to come back to the store after you left and rob the place. Had a spare set of keys he’d lifted somehow. Even hid his truck down the road and went back on foot so no one would notice”

Maggie and I gulped at the same time. I shoved my hands deep into my Jean pockets, and said, “wow”.

That was all I could manage. My dad went on. “Yep, seems like Jay was on to him. Pulled up to the back in that big old farming rig of his and saw the asshole bringing stuff out the back in trash bags”

“Uhhh dang” Maggie added.

“Yeah, holy crap” I said, honestly in awe of what was unfolding.

“Haha yep, jay and him fought and jay chased him into the freezer. The little punk trying to rob him tripped over milk crates and hit his fucking head,”

I was completely, deadly silent. I was wondering what he would say next, I was exploding with curiosity and fear and anxiety. “So the guy got back up, came at Jay, and he had to pop him with his 45 twice”

“What?” I sputtered.

“Yeah, what?” Said Maggie, in utter disbelief.

My dad went on: “jay called us right up there and we got the body out, hell of a mess in that freezer, shit and blood and trash bags everywhere, but we know Jay and he’s a good guy. He was defending his store. We just don’t know HOW he was onto the kid”

Both Maggie and I made small talk about how crazy the whole thing was and yes, we’d go back and get my car and no, I wouldn’t be late again. I even skipped getting grounded.

JDs parents buried him that summer. His sister Meghan called me and invited me to his funeral, but I didn’t go. No one at school or work did either, because no one liked him. His best friend didn’t even show up. I think that says a lot about someone, because I knew for a fact that my best friend would be there until the end. Until the end.

The end.

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lonely-night · 2 years

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STAR TREK VOYAGER 4.05 “Revulsion”

KIM: So, what do you do for fun down in Cargo Bay two?

SEVEN: Fun?

KIM: You know. Relaxation, entertainment, during your off hours.

#voyagereditmine #voyageredit #star trek voyager #seven of nine #jeri ryan #*sobs and cries*#rewatching s4 voy and im having lots of seven feels #funny how my 2 fav characters who i fell for at the same time #having existential crisis #(it might mean smth is going on with me but we're not gonna uncover it #we will just shove it into a box lock it throw away the key and never speak of it again lmao)

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depravity-n-savagery · 2 years

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『 Kiss, Marry, Kill 』

Part 2

♡ Pairing: Billy Hargrove x (fem)Reader

♡ Summary: Billy shows up at your house, kicked out by Neil until he brings Max home. You invite him to join you, Max, and El's little sleepover so he can avoid Neil for as long as possible. Pure fluff ensues.

♡ CW: Neil, abuse, angst in the beginning, sibling bonding, lots of fluff, orgasmic cookie eating, sexual tension, kissing, damn near a marriage proposal, friends to possible future lovers

🛑 18+ MINORS DNI 🛑

♡ Word Count: 3.6k

♡ A/N: This is just cute as all fuck, tbh. I wanted to see some Billy/Max sibling bonding and fluff with Billy so here we are! Cuddle the fuck up ♡

No matter how many houses you live in, sometimes you still end up without a home. Four walls and a roof doesn't automatically qualify. There's security. Comfort. Belonging. Love. All things that were absent in every Hargrove household. From California, to Hawkins, or fucking Timbuktu. If Neil was there, it wasn't a home. It was a nightmare.

Billy stuffed handfuls of essential items into the pockets of his denim jacket. Car keys, condom, sunglasses, box of cigarettes- where was that damn lighter? He felt around his jeans and even flipped over the pillow on his bed. No lighter in sight. Shit. At this rate, he won't make it out before Neil gets home. When his father wasn't out with Max's mother, he kept a predictable schedule. One Billy grew accustomed to maneuvering around, for minimal contact.

Like clockwork, the lock on the front door clicked and Neil entered the house. Even from upstairs, Billy could hear him grumble and slam his coat and keys down. Mood already soured. Great. "Billy!" He called out, voice echoing throughout the house. Billy actually contemplated how quiet he could be sneaking out the window, but there was no time. After just five seconds of not replying, Neil stomped his way up the stairs. Making a beeline for Billy's room till he stood in the doorway. "So what, are you deaf or just dumb?"

Billy's whole body went stiff, turning to face his father. Although the man constantly demanded eye contact (purely for intimidation), Billy never looked at him so much as through him. He mumbled. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Bullshit, but whatever. Your sister-" Neil purposely emphasized, just itching to get a rise out of him. "-isn't home. It's past curfew."

Knowing Max, she was probably running around with those little nerd kids from her school. Or you, the only other girl his age that caught the redhead's interest. She followed you around like you were the coolest thing. He found it kind of cute, in a pathetic way. Yeah…that's what it was. Not that he'd ever mention it.

"You know the Jane kid she has sleepovers with. Call her dad. I was already on my way out." Finally spotting his lighter peeking out from underneath one of his folded shirts, he leans over and plucks it from its hiding spot. Maybe if he walked while he spoke, Neil wouldn't stop him. So he took one step toward the open bedroom door. Toward Neil. Bad move.

Neil rushed him, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and forcing him up against the wall. The force of Billy's back hitting the surface knocked over one of his posters. "What? You finally gonna make a move, pussy?!" He released Billy's jacket with a shove, straightening his posture to make himself bigger. To make Billy small in his presence. "Huh?! Come on, then! THROW A PUNCH!"

It was a nice thought. Finally having enough of the shit and smashing his fist right into Neil's face. Again, and again, and again, until his tormentor was unrecognizable. Until he could no longer see the traces of himself in that man's face. But it was a thought that stayed locked away. Instead, Billy wilted. Standing there frozen and waiting. Bracing.

Neil scoffed, standing back as if he were going to leave. That would've been too easy. In this house of horrors, Billy never got off easy.

○ ▪︎ – – 《 ◇ 》 – – ▪︎ ○

The atmosphere at your house brought back memories of warmth and nostalgia. Homemade cookies cooling in the kitchen, fresh squeezed lemonade in the fridge, and laughter so loud it drowned out the television. Truth be told, nobody was paying attention to it anyway. You, Max, and Eleven sat in a circle on your carpeted living room floor. Magazines and comics spread out, along with whatever makeup you could find in your limited collection. You didn't wear much normally, but sometimes you liked to play in it. Try different looks. Tonight the girls requested makeovers, so you flipped through your magazines for styles that might inspire something. At least you were, until you heard a firm knock at the door.

"I'll be back. Keep looking!" You said, standing up from your criss-cross-applesauce position. Your house was pretty spacious, so it took a bit for you to reach the door and open it. The last person you expected to see was Billy 'Fuck Me' Eyes Hargrove. You called him that because that's what he often gave you, whenever you met eyes with him during your time together at school. 'Fuck me' eyes. Those cold blues would undress you from across a crowded room like no one else was there. Like no one else was worth his attention. Nothing ever came of it. He never asked you out, or even just started a conversation. Perhaps you were just eye candy. You both graduated before either of you could figure it out.

"Hey, Y/n." The infamous blue eyes were now covered by an oddly large pair of sunglasses. More odd than that was the fact that it was dark outside. Why was he wearing sunglasses at night? He cleared his throat, momentarily covering his mouth with a clenched fist. The knuckles on his hand were red and raw, looking like they might bleed. Billy quickly realized his mistake and pulled his hand down to tuck them into his jacket pocket. The attention now drawn to his lips, and the trace of blood smeared from a fresh cut on the bottom one. "Your mother never told you it's impolite to stare?"

Caught red-handed, you immediately averted your gaze. "Sorry…" Yeah. Not how you expected your first conversation with him to go. "How uh- Did you need something?"

It wasn't the way he wanted to introduce himself either. Bitterness got the better of him before he could think of a better approach. "Yea, actually. Is Max here?" He winced a little, pulling the corners of his mouth up into a sultry smile. "If not, I could just take your number. Y'know.. just in case." Yikes. He was off his game tonight and he knew it. At this point he was better off shutting up and letting his physical charm handle the rest. Strong and silent. Heavy on the silent. His wounded pride had him questioning the 'strong'.

You looked over your shoulder and into the house, tilting till you could see the two girls chatting where you left them. "She's here. Me, her and El were havin' a girls day."

Billy had the audacity to snort. "Girls day?" He mocked, struggling not to actually chuckle. It already hurts to smile. "How cute." If television and movies held any accuracy, all he could picture was you three painting nails and braiding each other's hair. Laid out on your stomach, feet kicking while you talked about whatever stale Hawkins boy caught your attention.

"Yes. Girls day." Your eyes rolled, but you took no actual offense to his teasing. Concern still lingering over the cut on his lip, and the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek. Oh shit. "Is- Is she supposed to be home? She told me her mom said it was okay-"

"Well, nobody told my dad that. It's past her curfew. I gotta take the brat back home."

The sharp tone in his voice made it seem more urgent than he was letting on. Guess she must be in trouble. You opened the door wider, standing back so he could step inside. "Come in, I'll go get her." Without even waiting to see if he followed, you made your way back into the living room. Max met you halfway, probably hearing her brother's voice from down the hallway.

Usually Max would scowl at him, or force herself to appear neutral and aloof. The unexpected appearance must've really caught her off-guard. Her eyes widened looking up at him. Was it fear? Neil never laid a hand on her, but he still frightened her. Sometimes he was even a bit too nice. The implications of that thought made Billy want to puke and never take her back there.

"Max, you mind if I talk to Billy alone for a sec?"

The redhead shrugged. "Go ahead, take 'im." Practically throwing you in his direction.

His boots shuffled down the short hallway, past family photos and your framed high school diploma. The scent of chocolate chip made his mouth water the moment you both entered the kitchen. His eyes zeroed in on the tray of cookies, staring like he hadn't eaten in days. You caught him, picking the tray up and holding it out to him with a smile. "They should be cool by now."

Billy hesitated at first, then slowly reached out and took a cookie. They were still warm in the middle. The melted chocolate pulling apart as he bit into it. He almost came in his pants. The mmmh that vibrated through him was borderline pornographic. "Fuck, you made these?"

Your cheeks flushed. People enjoyed your baking, sure, but they never enjoyed it like that. It had you ready to bake him all the cookies he could ever want. "I do most of the cooking and baking here. My parents work a lot. Plus, it's just fun to me." He made a happy noise through his chewing, another cookie already pinched between his fingers. Your eyes drew back to his lips. Plump, moving as he chewed. His tongue occasionally sticking out to lick away a crumb. Even the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed seemed to draw your attention. For some reason it made the back of your neck sweat. "Y'know… You and Max don't have to leave."

He finished swallowing the mouthful he had, licking over his teeth before he replied. "Sorry doll, but we do. I uh… I can't go back home unless I bring her."

You really really didn't want to pry, but the whole situation made you feel uneasy. Like the two of them going home right then and there just didn't seem safe. So you sat the tray down on the counter beside him and stood a little closer. You wanted to talk low enough so the girls wouldn't hear. "Max told me your dad isn't exactly a nice dude. She wouldn't go into detail, but I can tell that there's more." You raised your hand up toward his face, aiming to cup his cheek where the bruise was. Surprisingly, he let you. But he was statue stiff. Your thumb ghosted over the puffy discolored skin. It was hot to the touch. Very recent. "Did he…?"

Maybe it was the sweets. Or the concerned/comforting gesture. Due to all the people he slept with, Billy never really considered himself touch starved. Turns out, he was. He hadn't been touched like this since his mother was around. Soft, and caring. Tending to his wounds both inside and out. Initially he wanted to back away or rip your hand away from his face, but he was tired. Exhausted, and this simple gesture cooled the heat of his rage and anxiety. He didn't confirm nor deny what you asked. You didn't ask again.

He just lets you care for him. Stood there while you slid his sunglasses off and examined the bleeding scratch under his eye, and the swelling there too. Kept his eyes closed as you walked off and came back with a first aid kit. Cleaning and putting bandaids wherever they were needed. Even holding a bag of frozen peas, wrapped in paper towel, up to his face. Only then did he finally open his eyes again and look at you. Moisture still clinging to his eyelashes. They were such a beautiful sight, those eyes. This was the closest you had ever seen them.

"Look, if you're already kicked out of the house, then what's the harm in staying out longer? If you stay here with Max, then technically you are keeping an eye on her." You shifted the frozen peas, making sure the coldest area stayed against his skin. "Besides. We're a bunch of young ladies in this house all alone. My parents are staying out tonight. Maybe I'd feel safer with you here." You were half-joking. Your parents had a gun safe that you knew the combination to, and you weren't exactly a bad shot. Still, the idea of Billy being there to protect you made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Not that he'd really give a damn. He barely knew you.

"Okay."

A sigh left his lips as he reached for yet another cookie. "You got a point. I'm just- I don't wanna deal with him tonight. Don't wanna deal with Max's attitude. And like you said…" He grinned as he took a bite. "...Can't leave you here defenseless, now can I?"

So he stayed. Max was absolutely floored, and El clung protectively close to her. Even when you reassured them everything was cool and Billy seated himself on the big recliner. His boots were officially removed and sat by the front door. He was here to stay.

The activities carried on as usual. Max and El settled on some makeup looks they wanted to try, so you opened everything up and started experimenting. Billy just silently observed. You were currently brushing blue eyeshadow across El's eyelids. It matched her blue shirt and black suspenders perfectly. Max sat and watched, shifting impatiently on her knees. That's when an idea popped into your head. "Hey Billy."

"Hm?" He was fully expecting to just be a part of the background. Out of the way until it was time to leave.

"Can you help Max out with this? I kinda got my hands full with El right now." You thrust an eyeliner pencil in his direction.

Billy gave you a look that said 'you have GOT to be kidding me', but you kept holding the eyeliner out toward him. He opened his mouth to protest, looking for some sarcastic remark. Until he looked at Max. The way the excitement in her eyes started to fade. That was his fault, and you weren't going to let it go. So he took the pencil and turned to his stepsister. "Sure."

She was hesitant to face him at first, let alone have him get up in her face. It took a little encouraging nudge from you before she settled herself in front of the recliner Billy sat on. He leaned forward, squinting as he started lining her eye. If there's one thing he took pride in, it was being exceptional at multiple things. A man of many talents. Even a bit (more than a bit) competitive. So he was dead set on making this come out right. "Stay still if you don't want me to poke your damn eye out." To his surprise, Max listened. Stilling and trying her best not to blink too much.

"Have you… done this before?" Max asked. Nervousness clear in her voice.

"No." He spoke softly, the gravel in his voice sounding more soothing than harsh. "I just- used to watch my mom do this a lot." He had her chin in his hand, moving it to keep her face where he wanted it. A little rougher than he meant to be, but Max wasn't phased. She had actually started to relax a bit. So he did the same.

You and him finished up around the same time and turned the girls around for a big reveal. Son of a bitch. His eyeliner work actually was better than yours. Even El seemed to agree as she nodded her head with a smirk. "Bitchin'." Max beamed, flipping her hair out like she was posing for photos. You looked up at Billy and noticed a little smile forming on his face as well.

The next activity you had planned was something you and the girls had thought up while you were all at the mall. It seemed like a fun game to play while the other boys weren't around. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Well, to be kid-appropriate you changed it to Kiss, Marry, Kill. Read about it in some teen-girl magazine. You didn't notice when Billy had joined you all in the carpet sitting circle, but there he was. Sporting an eyeliner makeover that Max insisted on giving him. Her technique definitely needed work.

"Alright, you first El. Kiss, Marry, Kill." A bowl of popcorn rested between your legs, and you picked out of it. Playfully tossing a kernel at Billy. He caught it in his mouth, giving you a wink as he chewed. You'd be lying if you said it didn't give you butterflies.

El furrowed her brows, tapping the side of her face with her index finger. "I would… Kiss Dustin, Marry Mike, Kill… Papa."

"Who is-" You held your hand up, cutting Billy's question short with a mouthed 'I'll tell you later'.

Max hummed, rocking back and forth. "Kiss Lucas, Marry Will, Kill Mike." She shot a mischievous look towards El, at the mention of killing her boyfriend. The two of them laughed and play-wrestled with each other.

"Marry Will?" You chuckled, since Max and him probably spoke the least out of the entire friend group. She shrugged. "Well, we had to choose from people we actually know. Or I'd be marrying Ralph Macchio."

Even Billy spared a chuckle for that. "We have got to work on your taste, kid."

Max's head turned in his direction, whipping her hair over her shoulder. "What's wrong with Ralph Macchio?!"

He held his hands up in mock defense. "Nothing, nothing. Honestly, I always thought you'd swing the other way."

You rained down popcorn kernels in his direction. Throwing them with as much force as the fluffy puffed substance could withstand. "Billy!" The girls joined in, throwing popcorn at him as he smirked and repeated. "I'm just sayin'."

10 minutes of cleaning later, it was now your turn. "Alright, Kiss Marry Kill. Uhhh… Kiss Billy, Marry Eddie, Kill Steve." Max's jaw dropped, which you assumed was over the choice to kill Steve. "What? Steve owes me twenty bucks."

"What about you, Billy?" El spoke up, drawing everyone's attention.

Billy shifted, running his fingers through his blonde curls. "Uh.. Kiss Nancy, Marry Y/n, Kill Steve."

"What is it with you guys and Steve?" Max asked, not really expecting a response as she stood and made her way to the bathroom.

"You heard Y/n. He owes my wife twenty dollars. Gotta defend her honor." He pointed his response mostly toward you. Staring you down with those gorgeous eyes.

The next hour flew by like it was nothing. Possibly because you couldn't pull yourself out of your thoughts. You hadn't thought about Billy this much when you were going to school together. Tonight you just couldn't stop. Picturing those eyes. Those lips. His hands. The sinful amount of chest peeking out from his half-unbuttoned red shirt. The way his jeans hugged his ass. Get a hold of yourself, woman!

The two young girls were snoozing, huddled together under a blanket on the couch. A Nightmare on Elm Street playing on the television. Perfect time to get some cleaning in before going to sleep yourself, so you quietly made your escape into the kitchen. Trying not to disturb anyone and letting Billy watch the movie in peace. Instead he chose to follow you.

The two of you stood in a comfortable silence for a moment. He just leaned against the counter watching you wash the dishes. "So… you're gonna marry Eddie?" He teased, scooting closer to you. "Yeah, I guess I'm the kinda guy to get 'kissed' but not married."

You didn't look up from the dishes when you replied. "Well, it's against the rules to pick the same person for more than one answer. Otherwise I would've done that."

"Oh." Billy almost sounded offended. "So he gets the ring AND my kiss."

"Nooo, stupid. You… You'd get both."

No way in hell you just said that. So openly?! You quickly rinsed off the last dish, cheeks and ears burning. With a small pile of dried plates in your hands, you tried to rush past him. Something stops you in your tracks. He blocks your path, putting his arm out in front of you. "I think I want that kiss now."

Every scenario you used to dream up back in high school couldn't live up to this. Your imagination didn't add in the smell of cigarettes and cologne. The way the muscles in his arm flexed as he leaned against the cabinet. Lowering his face to meet yours. He let you meet him the rest of the way, careful not to irritate the cut on his lip. It was sugary sweet, like the cookie taste that lingered there. Uncharacteristically chaste for someone with Billy's reputation. The thought of having him ravish you was something you held onto for another time. You could tell he was holding back from the way he clenched his hand around the edge of the counter. Like he was fighting the urge to put his hands all over you.

For now, this was perfect. When the kiss finally ended, he gave you that sexy grin. "Now about that ring."

"How about you take me on a date first."

"Friday night." Billy plucked the pile of dishes out of your hands and walked away to put them where they belonged. Opening cabinets until he found the right one while you stood there. Mesmerized. Tonight was expected to be just a cute little distraction. A short reprieve before he had to go back to Neil. Now there were plans to meet up again. You couldn't help but smile to yourself.

If he plays his cards right, maybe somewhere way down the line… he could have that ring.

♡ A/N: Yeeaahh yeah, he might be a little ooc in some parts. I was just feeling very soft today. 🥺💞 Literally wrote this whole this as soon as I woke up. Hope you enjoyed it. ♡ Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated. ✨️

Ao3, Masterlist, more links coming soon...

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #max mayfield

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ijustwant2write · 3 years

Text

Reconnect-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @peakystitches)

Masterlist

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight @haphazardhufflepuff @mzcrazy2

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! May i request an either tommy or finn shelby x reader? (Whicheverr one u think suits best) for this prompt i found: character A and B have been in a longterm relationship and nothing can get in between, until one day something does and they drift away. But then they reconnect emotionally and everything feels like the first time again (first kiss, first meal together etc) 🙏🏼💜 i love ur writing thank u’

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader, Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, finance issues, drinking, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Finn, is that you?" I called out from our bedroom as I heard the front door open. I tensed up when I didn't hear a reply, only to let out a sigh when I heard him giggling.

He was drunk again, it happened almost every week now. Tommy would have given him something important to do for the gang, and whether or not Finn succeeded with that task, he would go out and celebrate with his mates. I would sometimes tag along if I wasn't tired from the week of working, but after seeing our finances, I realised we needed to stop acting like teenagers and start saving wisely.

"Hello my gorgeous girl." he slurred out as he entered the room.

"Hello Finn." I replied as I received a sloppy kiss to my forehead.

He flopped down beside me in bed, taking the book out of my hands and throwing it to the floor. Finn wrapped his arms around me, snuggling into my lap. I took off his hat, stroking back his hair. He was cold from the brisk walk home, causing me to shiver.

“You should have come out tonight." he said.

"I got off work late."

"He kept you again?"

"No, I decided to stay."

"Why? You always say you're tired."

"I'm tired because I'm picking up extra shifts and hours so that we can start saving up for a house."

"I've told you, we don't need to worry about that. Business is good."

"Finn, we're not going to be given the money. We have to earn it."

"Tommy will help us."

"He might help but he won't give us a lot. And even if he did hand us a house, we've got to have enough money for the bills, furniture-"

"It will be fine."

"Finn, we've not even had our wedding yet!"

We had been engaged for half a year. We were wanting to be married sooner, but problems arose with the Peaky Blinders it distracted us both from it, especially since our lives were in danger. I desperately wanted to have enough money for the wedding and house, though it looked like it was going to be one or the other at this point.

"What's wrong with the flat?" Finn now sat up.

"Did you seriously ask me that question? There's only so much I can do to this dump to make it look somewhat liveable. It just doesn't feel like home."

"We'll get the money. Don't worry. Look, look," he took my hands in his,"we will get a house. I promise. And believe me, I want to marry you as soon as I can, there needs to be another ring on that finger. And I need to see my name at the end of yours."

I stupidly believed him. Those adoring eyes I once trusted had lied to me. Finn kept his promise for a week at max, soon breaking it. I didn't mind him going out with friends, we both needed to socialise, I just disagreed with the amount of times he was out and the amount of drinks he was buying each night. He would always offer to get the next round, and although he was a Shelby, the discounts didn't make much difference at the end of the night. I decided I had to go with him to ensure that our money wasn't being poured away, struggling to stay awake for those long nights, and making work even harder every day. It was impossible to keep an eye on him like that.

Usually Finn would tell me if he was going out that night so I wouldn't worry. That stopped too. My mind was never at ease. How did I know he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere after a job gone wrong? Or what if he was trapped somewhere by a rival gang? I could only rest when he returned, which he always luckily did. I pretended to be asleep, trying to not push him away as he slipped his arms around me, cuddling me for the rest of the night. My patience began to grow thin. I was too scared to speak up about it, worried that we would just end up having an argument. However, I knew we would have to bring it up soon, because our money was only disappearing instead of increasing.

One morning when I was leaving for work, I noticed that the drawer we locked our savings away in was slightly ajar, meaning someone had unlocked it and stupidly left it open. Of course it had to be Finn, no one had broken in during the night. My eyes widened when I saw how much he had taken, enraged that he would think me so foolish. Why would he take the money without asking? What was he using it for?

As I stormed towards the shop, I heard whooping from men in a car further up the street. My face turned into a deep frown when I recognised the car, managing to catch a glimpse of the people in it. They hadn't seen me, and I had to make sure my eyes were deceiving me.

I didn't care about the looks on me as I burst through into the shop, making a beeline for Polly's office. I harshly knocked on the door, entering when she called me.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" she asked, a lit cigarette in hand.

"Where's Finn?"

"Off out with his brothers, why?"

"Where are they going?"

"To the races."

I scoffed, placing a hand on my head in defeat.

"Why? What's wrong with that?"

"He told me he would be in the office all day today."

"So? Things change."

"No, he specifically told me that. I never even asked about it. He made a point meaning he didn't want to risk me waltzing in. That means he's hiding something."

"(Y/N), they're only going to bet on horses today. They're mingling."

"They're betting today?!"

She stood, putting a hand on her hip."What am I missing here?"

"Pol, he's using money that we don't have! I need a car, I need to get to him."

"Look, even if my nephew is being the biggest idiot, it's a bad idea to go there."

"Why?"

Her eyes widened."Don't snap at me young lady."

"I'm sorry, I just, I just know he's going to be stupid with what little money we have at the minute."

Polly was silent for a few seconds, and I didn't know if she was just staring me out, trying to make me leave. Perhaps she didn't think it was anything to worry over. But it was to me. She surprised me when she went into one of her drawers, pulling out a set of keys.

"Come on. I'll get one of the girls to call your work, say you're sick."

I tightly clasped my hands together as Polly drove. I was furious, trying to think of what to say to Finn when I got there. He stole our money. He went behind my back, gambling away the money we worked hard to earn. I had never said it, but Finn had it much easier than I did. For one, he worked with family, and although I liked my job, the boss could sometimes be an arsehole; second, he earned a lot more than me, so he was the bigger breadwinner between us, but I worked longer hours. Yes, he was in a gang meaning he had more days where his life was under threat, but he seemed to be having a jolly good time anyway. Really, it wouldn't have mattered who worked longer or harder, or who earned more, it was still our money to spend on our house.

As soon as Polly parked up, I was straight out of the car. She quickly followed grabbing my arm and warning me to not get lost in the crowds. I couldn't make a scene, especially since there could be potential business partners or enemies about. I refrained from rolling my eyes, knowing she was right but also knowing that I would find it extremely hard to not scream at Finn.

Polly guided me to where the men would be, ignoring the shoving and shouting. I wished for her to walk quicker. We swiftly entered the posher boxes, almost stopped by a doorman until his accomplice shut him up. I even heard him whisper 'That's Polly Gray you idiot.', the one time I was glad we had a reputation. She only paused to scan the room for the boys but I spotted them first. Quickly moving past her, I couldn't stop my fists from clenching, seeing Finn joyfully drinking and laughing with his brothers only added fire to my fury.

"Finn!" I snapped, quickly catching his attention.

"(Y/N)?" he exclaimed, struggling to stand and clattering the plates and glasses on the table."W-what are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from spending our money like a fucking idiot! Where is it?"

"Oh, Finn boy is in the doghouse." John chuckled.

"Shut up!" I fiercely pointed at him.

"Where's what?" Finn brought me back.

"Our money!"

"I told you, you do this outside." Polly warned, shoving Finn in that direction, and I knew I had to follow him.

Luckily, we were left alone. Finn continued on, finding someplace we would be alone. Once we were in the clear, the distant roar of the crowds covering our conversation, I saw him sigh quietly, running a hand down his face when he realised what was coming.

"Where's the money Finn?" I asked, calmer but with a mean tone.

"Let me explain first.”

"Explain how you took our money without asking? How you just waltzed out this morning without consulting me?"

"Tommy said that there was a good chance, a very good chance that this horse would win, and I thought it would help us if we put our money on it. Imagine how much we'll have if it wins!"

"If it wins Finn, if! You're gambling our money, why would you do something like that?"

"Because you went on about not having enough money! And here I am trying to help!"

My mouth dropped open in shock."You really don’t see the problem here."

"No, actually, I don't." he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Finn, you stole money from the drawer! You then go behind my back and bet it away. Have you thought about what we'll do if that horse loses?"

"But it won't, Tommy said."

"And what if Tommy is wrong this time? Also, don't pin this on your brother, I know he hasn't even suggested this idea."

"I'm not-urgh!" Finn groaned."Why don't you trust me?"

"I can't trust a gamble Finn. I don't think you realise how many nights I've spent lying awake, worried that we'll never have enough for our own home, and thinking that you don't even care anymore."

"Of course I care. This is why I've bet the money."

"How is this not getting in your head?"

"(Y/N)," he took my hands in his, but I couldn't even look at him,"in a few minutes we will hear them announce the winner, and we will start jumping for joy when we realise how much money we're going to get back, and we're going to be so much closer to getting our home."

"Finn, I desperately want to believe that. But even if we do win, you're in deep trouble." I took my hands away from him, turning around. I couldn't even look at my own fiance.

On queue, we heard a man come over the intercom, it was muffled to me but I knew Finn was listening intensely. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched for his reaction, turning around fully when I saw his expression. We had lost. We lost all that money.

"How could you be so fucking stupid?!" I screamed at him, throwing slaps onto his chest."Why couldn't you just listen to me? I don't understand why you had to lie to me Finn!"

I broke down crying, shoving him away from me. My sobs were loud but I didn't care. Finn could watch, see how much he upset me. My heart sank at the thought of it all gone, Finn had left scarcely any money in the drawer back at the flat.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)." Finn pathetically said.

"You know how you always go on about your family never trusting you enough for the big jobs? That you never get to go out with them and help? This is why. Because you do things like this, you fuck everything up Finn. Fuck!" I wiped away my tears, even though more spilled out."You know I've always stuck beside you, but this is the last straw Finn. I can't be with someone who doesn't want to put effort into their future."

"What are you saying? (Y/N), I can fix this. I promise I'll get the money back, I'll-"

"How? That took us so long to build that up. And you were spending our money almost every night on useless drinking. I can't Finn, I can't live like that anymore."

He ducked his head, and I almost wanted him to say something. When he didn't, I knew what I had to do.

I took a deep breath before speaking."I'm going home. I suggest you stay at Polly's tonight."

"Let me take you home-"

"No!"

"What's going on?" Tommy suddenly appeared, he, his brothers and Polly approaching.

"Your nephew, your brother, just gave away almost all of our money betting on a horse. Not only that, but he took the money without telling me. That was money for a house." I angrily explained.

"Is that true Finn?"

Finn shamefully nodded.

"We can get you your money back (Y/N)."

"It's not about that Tom. He's lied to me. He promised me he wouldn't spend our money every week, yet he did. And then he takes our money without asking me about it first."

"I'll fix it (Y/N), I promise I will." Finn was begging at this point.

"Another promise that you're bound to break. I've had enough today."

"Let's get you home love." Polly said, putting a stop to this argument as she stepped forward, taking me under her arm.

Finn didn't come home that night. I didn't sleep. I was sat at the tiny dining table, staring at the ring on my finger, wondering what to do. It broke my heart to think about leaving him, but it also broke my heart thinking about how reckless he had been. Did I really want to be marrying someone who acted like this? Would he mature? My heart wanted to believe he would, but my mind kept telling me that today confirmed he wouldn't. That was one of the worst nights of my life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I couldn't stand this job any longer. But it was the only thing keeping me alive. It was crappy work, the pay was just above minimum, enough for me to buy food, pay my rent and have the tiniest amount left over. Saving up money was hard when it was just you. Even after two years, I didn't have enough to consider looking at places of my own, or with less roommates. It was exhausting keeping up with these girls I lived with, there were 6 of us altogether. It was a big change when I moved away from Small Heath.

"You ready (Y/N)?" one of my roommates called out to me as I finished applying my lipstick.

"Just a second!" I replied, checking myself in the mirror.

It was the rare occasion that I was going out with them, the one time we could all go out together at all. I was looking forward to a few drinks, and although that sounded hypocritical, I realised that I had to have a night or two in at least a month to relieve myself of the stress I put upon myself.

We arrived at the small club we always went to, it had the cheapest drinks this side of town. We all shivered in the cold weather, walking as fast as we could to make it to the club. The warmth was very welcome, as well as the loud music that drew us further in. It was the usual routine, a few of us grab a table, the others get the drinks in, then we would all make our way to the dance floor. Hours passed, and I had to get away from the heat coming from the dancing, stepping back towards our table to get a drink. I saw my roommate stumbling in the direction of the bar, rolling my eyes as I went to help her, perhaps getting a drink whilst I was there. However, once I got closer, I stared at the man she was starting to flirt with.

"Isaiah?" I said as I got closer.

"(Y/N)!" he smiled, bringing me in for a hug.

"You two know each other?" my roommate asked, looking disappointed.

"He's an old friend. Just that, nothing else."

Isaiah let me go."How long has it been? Two years?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, two years. What are you doing here?"

"Business. Nothing dangerous though, you girls are still in for a good night. Especially you if you're good." he winked to my roommate.

"Is he...is he here?" my voice suddenly went shaky, and I felt almost completely sober.

Isaiah's playful nature dropped."Uh, he is. He's really misses you (Y/N). Hasn't even looked at another girl since you left. He's just not been the same." I wasn't sure how to reply.

"I can't not tell him I saw you. Imagine if he found out, he would be so upset with me."

"I know. I wouldn't want to hurt your friendship."

"Maybe you should see him. It might do you both some good."

"Or the opposite."

"He still loves you. Even if you don't feel the same, it could bring closure. But I know you (Y/N), I can tell what you're thinking."

"You were always annoying like that."

"He's out front, in the corridor. That's all I'm going to say."

I looked at him for a few seconds, trying to make my mind up."Well, this one is a handful, just so you know."

"I think I can handle her." Isaiah smirked.

"I was warning her about you."

I giggled at his reaction, walking away and leaving him in his natural habitat of flirting. But as soon as I turned around, my stomach dropped, nerves filling up my entire body. He was here. I hadn't seen him for two years, though I thought about him everyday. Would he look different? Did I look different? What was he going to say? What was I going to say? My brain didn't want to think of any words, maybe I was about to babble absolute nonsense to him.

Upon seeing him, my throat tightened, the cool air slapping me in the face; oh, now I was sober. He hadn't noticed yet, leaning up against a wall, hands in his pockets. Wow, he had changed. His boyish charm was still there, yet he had matured into a handsome young man. It was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again. I was just happy that he would be seeing me in my finer clothes rather than catching me after work.

Urging my feet to move, I almost sighed at how small my steps were. I really was scared. Isaiah had said reassuring things, yet I couldn't even walk up to him. It was too late to back out now, especially when he finally looked up at me. I froze on the spot, not knowing what to do. Finn seemed the same way.

"(Y/N)." he said, I only just heard it.

"Hello."

Hello? Really, that's all I could come up with?

He pushed himself off the wall, coming to stand in front of me, though not too close."I...I can't believe you're here."

"I could say the same about you."

"This is where you've been living then."

I nodded."It's not too bad. I mean, I'm on a night out."

"Who are you with?"

I knew he was wondering if I was with a man."My roommates, I live with five other girls."

"Oh, that's a lot."

"Yeah, it's the only place I could afford."

"I hope it's nice."

"I shouldn't complain. A lot better than other places."

We both knew we were making an awful attempt at small talk. I was sure he had so much to say like I did, we just didn't want to dump it on each other in case the other ran away. It was like we were teenagers again, awkwardly trying to think of something to fill the dreaded silence.

"I really want to talk about us (Y/N)." Finn said.

"You do?"

"I...I just have so much to say to you. I can't do it now, but what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow, um, yes, yes tomorrow works for me. It's the weekend, so I'm not working."

He smiled slightly."OK, good. I'll come get you. Um, I need your address."

"Oh, here." I dug around in my purse, thankful there was a folded up tissue and a pen, it was good to be prepared. I wrote down my address, handing it to him.

"I'll pick you up at one. I would want it to be earlier, you just never know what time you'll be back with this sort of thing."

"I understand Finn, I did live this with you once."

I barely slept, even when we stumbled in at three in the morning. Luckily I hadn't seen Finn, Isaiah or any other Peaky Blinder that evening, no doubt settling business behind the scenes. Despite the lack of sleep, I was wide awake the next morning, up before everyone else who were nursing their hangovers, trying on multiple outfits in a desperate attempt to look nice, but not as if I put too much effort in. The clock was rolling onto one o'clock, and my heart was beating much faster than usual. I was about to make my way downstairs when something glistened on my small vanity. Should I take it? Yes, I would.

Finn knocked on the door, and I waited a few seconds before opening it. We smiled as we greeted each other, not going in for a hug or kiss on the cheek, something I was worried about. That was the first hurdle jumped over.

"How was your evening?" Finn struck up a conversation as we walked further into town.

"Much better than yours I presume?" I smirked. He chuckled."Yeah, didn't exactly get to enjoy the music. Small fight, nothing we couldn't handle."

It was strange hearing about Blinder business again."Well I'm glad you're all safe."

"I thought we could go out for lunch, saw a nice place round here."

"Oh, that would be lovely."

"We don't have to, if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, no, no, it's not that. It's just a lovely thing for you to do."

We both bashfully smiled, luckily the restaurant was just around the corner. I had expected nothing less when we walked into the fancy place, not because I thought I deserved it, but because Finn wouldn't be seen anywhere else. His clothes were even more tailored now than they had been the last I saw him, indicating that the gang had been doing well, more money was coming in. We both immediately picked up our menus as we sat, hoping someone would speak first. Our eyes glanced over the top of them, it was as if we were on our first date again, only this time in a better establishment.

"You look beautiful." he said, still hiding part of his face.

"Thank you." I blushed.

"I'll never forget what you wore when I picked you up for our first date. That blue dress you just bought, with a matching purse, and those heels that you hadn't practiced walking in. Well, you used that as an excuse to latch into my arm all night."

I smiled, placing down my menu."It was a good plan, wasn't it? And I did struggle in those heels, I just didn't want to embarrass myself."

He copied me."I liked holding your hand all night."

"What a sweet sentiment."

"I mean it. And I mean this date. That didn't sound right, but...what I'm trying to say is that I want to make it all up to you."

"You do?"

"Yes! I really didn't expect you to leave. I mean I did, but I didn't want to believe that. I didn't want to believe that I had been so selfish that I couldn't even see how much I had hurt you."

“That was the hardest decision I ever made. Most days I battle with myself whether I made the right choice. All night I kept making deals with myself. If you came back, I would hear you out, and if it was good enough for me I would stay. But then you didn’t, so I said to myself ‘Give him another hour.’. An hour went by, and I said the same thing to myself. That went on for the whole evening until I found myself angrily packing my things. Even then, I sat by door on top of my suitcase for another hour or so.”

“I thought you just got up and left. I didn’t realise how long you waited for me.” he sighed into his hands.“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

I could tell he was full of regret. Although it sounded sadistic, I was glad that he was upset when reflecting on our past relationship, it meant he realised his mistake. On the other hand, I hated seeing him sad. I took his hands away from his face, hesitantly reaching into my handbag to pull out the engagement ring I kept.

His eyes widened.“You still have that? I looked everywhere for it when you left, guessed you took it to sell.”

“I won’t lie, that was my intention at first. But it meant too much to me. It was like selling a piece of my soul. I kept it hidden, I didn’t want to risk any of the girls seeing it, they would just ask too many questions.”

I kept my eye on the beautiful ring as I spoke, slowly twirling it around to catch it twinkling in the light.

"I had such a hard time picking that out. I knew what you wanted, but I had to get it right for you. I'm so glad you kept it."

"I did try to sell it. I was stood outside of a shop for ten minutes debating with myself. It would have helped a lot for the deposit on the room, but I couldn't do it."

We were silent, both staring at the ring. We used to do that a lot actually. Finn would take my hand and hold it up as we laid in bed together, both giggling as we watched it glisten like it was in present times, before squealing at the thought of us being married to each other. I constantly fiddled with it when he was off on business, a habit which never wore off, even now; whenever I was nervous or worried, I would automatically do the same action, just without the ring.

A waiter awkwardly interrupted us, and I hurriedly put the ring back in my bag, sharing an embarrassed smile with Finn as we ordered. Once he was gone, I quietly sighed, looking out of the window. We were in such a nice part of town, so many ladies in beautiful dresses and men in smart suits strolling around.

"Are you...are you OK for money?" Finn boldly asked.

I was a little shocked by that.

"I don't mean anything by it. I just want to make sure you're OK, I would hate for you to be struggling, if you were."

"Uh, no, no I'm fine actually. It's not as generous as my old wage but it keeps me alive, I can live with the bare necessities."

I could see him itching to say something else, to keep the conversation going. I wasn't sure if we could go back to the serious topic we had before. However, I also wanted to bring it back up, it felt like we needed to talk about us.

"How's the family?" That's all I could come up with.

"They're fine. Everyone is the same. Well, they're not, they're a bit more serious nowadays."

"They weren't in the first place?"

He smiled."I suppose they were. Tension is the right word, tensions have been rising. Tommy's taking on a lot more, Polly knows all these secrets that no one else does, Ada is rebelling against anything Tommy says, Linda is still annoying, Esme and John have been popping kids out left, right and centre. Arthur is still crazy."

"Sounds like business as usual to me."

"They miss you too."

"Do they?"

"Yeah. Almost as much as me."

I cast my eyes down as butterflies rose in my stomach.

"I heard nothing else for the next few weeks after you left. They all told me what an idiot I was, that I was an extremely reckless, stupid and immature boy, and that I had let the best thing in my life get away from me. And they were right. I knew all of that already."

"I...I don't really know what to say right now."

"You don't have to say anything, let's just enjoy this meal, no more of that talk."

The nerves making my stomach flip built at that. What if we had nothing else to talk about? What if it was too weird to dive into our separate lives? I didn't want to sit across my ex-fiance, painfully and politely smiling through forced conversation.

The spark was still there.

When the waiter had returned with our drinks, we were already deep in talk about what had been happening in our personal everyday life. We were non stop, even as we ate through dinner. The waiters had trouble catching our attention each time they checked on us. I was deep in those eyes again, the ones I always dreamed of seeing. We were laughing hysterically, not at all acting how we should have in that establishment (there were a few eye rolls from other patrons). As if time had gone by in a second, the bill was slipped towards Finn, though I still reached into my purse.

"Are you mad? No, put your money away, I'm not taking it." Finn stated as he carelessly threw down some notes, surprisingly taking my hand in his and guiding me out of the restaurant.

I was tense as we walked, and I saw a flash of realisation in Finn's eyes as we made it outside. Both looking down at our interlocked fingers, Finn broke away, clearing his throat.

"Sorry, force of habit."

Hesitating, I smiled up at him, lacing our hands together again."These are new heels I'm breaking in. Need help walking in them."

He chuckled, pulling me closer as we walked down the street. We were silent, feeling like kids in love again. I couldn't deny that my feelings were still strong for Finn, I missed him dearly. At first, part of me had been wary of all this, wondering if he really had good intentions, or just thought he could get a quick shag in from an ex before he left; but the effort he went through, the things we spoke about, trying to heal old wounds, Finn had matured and he was wanting to fix this. I wanted to fix this, my heart was aching for my old life with him.

“We’re not done yet, are we?” I timidly asked.

“Not unless you want it to be.”

I instantly shook my head.“No, I’d like to stay out for longer.”

“Even though you’re struggling in your heels?”

I smirked.“I know a nice place we can sit down.”

I took him to the local park, it had a huge lake with benches dotted around, luckily it wasn’t busy, there was somehow a hint of privacy here. We sat down close to each other, hands still entwined.

“You still hungry?” I asked.

“Hm?”

I dug into my purse, producing a bag of sweets I had bought the previous day. I laughed as his eyes lit up, taking one without even asking. I took one too, reminiscing on how we used to do the same thing as kids. It seemed he was thinking about it too.

“Just like the old days.” Finn said.

“We spent way too much money on sweets back then. It’s a wonder we still have our teeth.”

“Wish I got out of that spending habit. We could be married and in our new house by now.”

“So you never wanted to move on? You didn’t give in to those girls wanting to be with a Peaky Blinder?”

“Never. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even fathom being with anyone else, it was always you (Y/N). Did you date?”

“No, I felt exactly the same. Which is why I was angry at myself for a long time. I was supposed to be upset with you, not still in love.”

His head whipped round to face me.��You still love me?”

My mouth was still open, unsure how to answer. It seemed I didn’t have to as Finn leaned in, placing on hand on my cheek as we kissed. Instinctively I kissed back, placing my hands on him where I could, hearing the bag of sweets fall to the ground and spill its contents. This kiss was needy, the type of kiss you gave your partner when you had missed them, when they had been away for a long time; and although we had our hands on each other, our touch was still gentle.

“Get the ring.” Finn breathed out, our lips still almost touching.

I carelessly got it for him, heart beating extremely fast. He took it from me, pecking me on the lips one last time before standing up. He straightened out his suit, took a deep breath and got down on one knee. I was just as emotional the first time he did it.

“(Y/N), I know I messed up everything in the past, I was careless when I should have been supportive and helped to build our future. I learnt from those mistakes, and I really, really want to go back to how we were. I need you (Y/N), I love you so much. There aren’t enough words to express how much love I have for you. Will you marry me?”

I didn’t need to think about my answer. I blurted out a yes, waiting for him to slide the ring back on my finger before throwing myself onto him. We stumbled back onto the ground, our arms around each other as we laughed and cried. I believed him this time, I truly believed him. He put in the effort to show me his changes, he wanted to fix everything. I wanted things back to the way they were with my man, and we were back to building our future and living the rest of our lives together.

#finn shelby #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby imagines #finn shelby one shot #finn shelby fanfic #finn shelby fan fic #finn shelby fanfiction #finn shelby fan fiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fan fiction

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quillsareswords · 3 years

Note

hi <3 so this is weirdly specific but could you do a scenario with vamp reader where one of the batfam gets kinds critically injured while on patrol in outer Gotham and they can't get back to the manor so Damian is like i know a place and then takes them to secret vamp gf's apartment???? ik it's really specific but i'd really love it :)

Darling you've read my mind. There are few things I live writing more than vampire reader fics

Damian Wayne x f!Reader

WARNINGS: blood, mild gore, impromptu surgery, utter lack of medical knowledge

PROMPT LIST and MASTER LIST in bio

Tim's bleeding out.

He's bleeding out in Jason's arms, and Robin isn't taking them to the Cave.

Red Hood's been growling and barking questions and curses and orders at the youngest man's back for seven minutes. He'll admit, reluctantly, that he's beginning to panic. Red Robin's got a bullet lodged between a rib and an organ, and a bullet hole shot clean through his side. There's a graze across one shoulder, but a stitch and an ace bandage could fix that easy.

They should be halfway to the Cave by now. They should've made a break for the abandoned Bat Mobile at the first opportunity they had. Unfortunately, they'd been boxed in. The only way out was to lose the crowd of pissed off dog-fighting assholes through a winding maze of alleyways that lead them away from the only mode of transportation within two miles.

Robin has some sense of direction. He knows something Hood doesn't. That much is obvious. He hasn't stopped to look around for three turns, despite knowing they've likely already lost the crowd. Still, he's not saying anything.

The most he gave Jason to go on was a winded, "pick up Drake, I know a place," and then he took off.

Red keeps mumbling. It's getting incoherent. It's strained, and he's trying not to let on how much it really hurts, even though everybody knows. They all know first hand.

Robin takes a sharp turn and skids to a stop at a door around the back of an apartment building. He's rushing with his keyring, the jingling of all the metal clinking splitting through the shadows left cast by the broken light above the door.

"Damian," Hood snarls. "Where are you taking us? He needs a doctor."

"We don't have time for a doctor," Robin bites back. The lock finally clicks and has to use his full weight to shove the steel slab open.

Hood doesn't have another choice, so he follows Robin up three flights of cement stairs, minding the distance between Red Robin's head and the half-rusted steel railing.

Robin stop abruptly and shoves through another door. He leads them down a hallway, with faded, flattened red carpet and doors with chipped wood. He stops again at the last door on the left, keys chiming in his hands again.

The moment it swings open, Robin grabs Redhood by his arm and pushes him inside first.

A stranger peers around the corner from the kitchen, one eyebrow raised.

Hood stares back. An apartment. This must be the wrong place. There's a civilian right there–

"What's–? Who's this? Is he bleeding? Is that your brother?" Your voice raises a little higher each question. Your half full glass teeters when you all but throw it back onto the counter to lunge around the wall. "Damian?"

The door slams behind Hood. He barely registers it, brain overloading with such a tower of information being dropped into his lap.

Robin steers around Hood, mask pulled clean from his face. "He's been shot twice, I need you to help me stitch the first one and remove the second bullet."

The shock is still gleaming in your eyes, but you spin around and sweep everything from the kitchen island. It all crashes to the floor, but you hardly seem to care as you turn to another cabinet and start pulling out first aid packs.

"Put him there," Damian instructs, pulling the green glove from his left hand first.

"What happened?" You demand, ripping the zipper across the first canvas bag.

"It was–" Damian's breath catches with his right glove halfway off, "We broke up a dogfight, they were not pleased."

Your gaze jumps from Tim as Hood lays him down to Damian. His hand is blooded, knuckles blooming dark purples and blues and ugly yellows around split skin.. "That looks nasty."

He stops for a spare moment, staring down at the throbbing appendage. "It is," he hums.

You sigh, digging through the red canvas pouch. "I'll start on him, you go get the ice pack." You take a carpet needle and a spool of stitches from the bag. You glance Hood up and down. "What about the other one? He hurt?"

"Todd's fine," Damian dismisses, waving his good hand in the same manner as he ducks behind you to get to the refrigerator.

"Hey, demon? You wanna, ya know? Explain?"

Damian glances over his shoulder as he reaches into the freezer drawer. "This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Jason Todd and Tim Drake."

You're already bent over Tim's left side with a pair of scissors. He's losing the most blood from the exit wound, so you're starting there. You glance up, just in time to watch Jason pull the helmet from his head. He looks angry. "I assumed. Anyway, the good news is, he doesn't smell like death and I'll be honest, I'm really wishing I hadn't skipped breakfast."

Damian still behind you, staring down at your hands as you cut away at Tim's uniform.

It's an odd comment to make. What does breakfast have to do with any of this? And what did you mean? Smell like death?

He finally has the time to get a good look at you. He doesn't know what he expects. The exhaustion of a nurse? The collectedness of an ex-medic? The focus of a doctor?

Whatever he expected, it wasn't the borderline glowing yellow he finds in your eyes or the restraint in your stare.

A vampire. Damian brought his bleeding brother to a vampire.

"Damian–"

Damian's already staring him down. "Do not. We'll discuss later."

He refocuses on you. You've got the bloodied alcohol wipe discarded beside Tim, and your hooking the needle through skin for the second time.

You're surprisingly quick about the stitches and the bandages, but Jason nearly faints when you round the island to his other wound, where the bullet is still lodged, and plunge your fingers straight into the weeping wound. Tim, on the other hand, does pass out.

It doesn't take more than an hour for you to get him all patched up. Then you help Jason get him into a guest bedroom and set him up in there after you've had Damian dose him with morphine.

Then you boss Damian into the living room to sit and doctor his hand. You'd tried to talk him into letting you do it, but you relented and settled for at least making him sit down.

You're fixing ramen noodles in the kitchen, Damian's sitting on the edge of your couch bent over his hand, and Jason is sitting stiffly in your armchair across the the coffee table.

He's been quiet for a long time. Damian obviously wasn't going to tell him anything until he decide it was a good time to pipe up, so Jason had done what he could given the situation; observe.

Your apartment was decently put together. Humble, lived it, unprepared for company. It's dim, with only a few lamps speckled through the rooms for light and the bulbs removed from the overheads.

He's most interested in Damian, though. Despite having a likely broken hand, he's more relaxed here than he is in some parts of the Manor. His body language reads comfort. He's not looking around every few minutes for any sign of danger, even though they'd all barely escaped a small angry mob ninety minutes ago.

"So," he huffs, leaning back into your chair. He spares you a glance. Your back is to them while you stir a pot. "You wanna clue me in or are we gonna keep loitering in this poor woman's home?"

You peer over your shoulder.

Damian sighs heavily.

"Your call," you chip in, digging around in a lower cabinet.

He throws a dirty look your way. "Thanks for the help."

He draws a deep breath, reclining against the back of the couch. "Firstly, all if this stays between us," he starts, gesturing to the whole apartment with his good hand. "Second, Y/N is a vampire, and if you so much as breathe disrespectfully–"

"Damian," you warn."

"–we'll have issues."

Jason blinks slowly. Clearly unimpressed. "Why do you care do much? And how'd you know she wouldn't eat Timmy alive?"

"She's my girlfriend."

He damn near falls out of the chair. "Your what?"

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #jason todd #vampire #vampire!reader #yall gont understand how much i love it #call me cringy idc #im downbad for nice bloodsuckers

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Uncertainty in the Household

Picture Perfect Series

TW: talk and action for miscarriage, slight manipulation

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: I wanted to explore the reader and Danny’s relationship in this chapter, so i hope you like it, first part is p rough with the whole miscarriage, so you're free to skip to after the second - if you're uncomfy with that

Tears fall into your palms as your fingertips dig into your scalp, your belly- while still early in the pregnancy, still feels as if it’s protruding, and you sit on the shared bed, a faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol lingers in the air and you’re alone. For now, at least. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were Danny who was the father. You want to kid yourself, to tell such lies that he could be the father, that sleeping with- that being forced into whatever sick game Ghostface has with you- that he didn’t impregnate you. You blame yourself. You should have taken the morning after pill, you should have purged yourself of everything and anything to make sure that you didn’t let yourself have his child. Your stomach twists and turns, a thin veil of acid on your tongue and you wonder how to explain this to Danny. If you even should. It’s still early, maybe you could get rid of the child before anyone has to know. Your eyes widen and you sit up, your eyes scanning the room and you let out a breath, nodding to yourself.

You can get rid of the child. No one knows. You made sure to throw away the pregnancy tests in a dumpster at a park and rip the receipts before anyone could ever see. No one has to know.

Loneliness, while always being your aggressor, has finally worked in your favor. You rush to put on your clothes, ignoring the burning desire to cry, your purse in your hand, you walk to the front door, pausing to leave a note to your partner.

“Went out, I’ll bring dinner.” Something short and simple. Marked with a little heart at the end that makes you feel a bit sick, like it’s something like a lie that you’re telling him. You place the pen down and grab the car keys, rushing down the steps. Each step down the stairs is something that feels heavy, chains around our ankle and the child- no, you can’t call it that. You know you’ll get attached. You’ve heard about the tactics that are used to pressure vulnerable people into keeping their unborn children, and you won’t be one of those. You can’t. Not now and you’re sure not ever. The car purrs to life, the steering wheel a bit too hot from being under the sun and you wait, letting the cool air fan against your already hot body and you reverse out of the parking lot.

You return with tuna, alcohol, fenugreek, a peppermint and aloe vera plant, a thin bag that is filled with peaches, different varieties of caffeine that you can already taste, and pineapple. Your hands ache, the base of your fingers sore from the heaviness of the bags that you stubbornly carried up to the apartment. You were not going to make multiple trips, that much was certain about your day. You hear his voice before you see him, a greeting cut off as he realizes just how much you’re carrying. Danny’s eyes widen, and he rushes off the couch, taking bags away and your palms are redden from the indents of the bags.

“Are we having a feast?” His hands are inside a bag and he pulls out wrapped fish, and he stops, turning to you, a tight smile on his lips that you don’t recognize. “I didn’t know you liked fish.” He places it down and watches as you carefully place a clinking bag down onto the table. “Alcohol too, huh? What-” he turns to you, a nervous chuckle filling the space of his words- “Did I forget a special date?”

You shake your head no, already biting into an unwashed peach, trying to ignore how many hands and bacteria have touched the fruit before you. “Just-” you speak with a full mouth and turn your head, covering your mouth with your hand and taking another bite. You swallow and take a gulp of air. “I was just craving fish is all. Why? Do you not like fish?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that I- I just wanted soup, and-” your smile falls and he shakes his head. “I can get soup tomorrow. How long until the fish is down?”

“Actually-” you reach into another bag and pull out two containers- “I was able to buy some sushi on the way home.” You pull out a pack and slide the container to him. You spare him a glance as he stares at the sushi with an odd, angry feeling. “Oh, I’m uh, I have tomorrow off, by the way.” You meet his eyes for a minute and he gives you a nod, allowing you to continue.

“You’ve been throwing up lately,” he adds, taking a bite from his plate. Your heart sinks and you try to mask your emotions, turning around to grab a bottle opener from one the drawers. “I’ve been worried, you know. Maybe-” the chair squeaks and when you turn, he’s sitting down, an unopened beer beside his plate- “I should take tomorrow off too and we can go to the doctor. Just to see if you don’t have the flu or-” he tilts his head, his lips twitching- “if it isn’t anything else.”

A part of you wants to tell him your fear. You don’t want to be pregnant, and you hope that if you manifest it enough, it’ll be true. But you also fear that he wants a family and you’ll be the one ruining it for him. Maybe you aren’t even pregnant. Maybe it’s just needless worry over a few faulty exams, but you can’t risk it. Not now. Not if it has the chance to be someone other than Danny’s.

With a bottle opener in hand, you walk towards Danny, his eyes on you the entire time. You place the bottle opener beside his drink, a hand on his shoulder and the other brushing back his hair, combing it to the side. His hands leave his meal and rest against your hips, his gaze up at you and there’s a hint of a smile at his lips, and you lean down, pressing your lips over his scar that adorns his forehead.

“We have bills to pay Dan,” you mutter, “at least one of us should be responsible.” You close your eyes tightly to avoid tears spilling over, the hand on his shoulder tightening and when you pull away, he looks unbothered for a moment before giving you a forced smile. “Let’s eat, okay? You can tell me about your day.”

All it takes is one doctor appointment to confirm that you are not pregnant. It was just a scare. And as if life and everything else in control of you wanted to laugh, you bled through your underwear on the ride home. The vomiting in the morning was your body simply pretending to have the signs, your mind so strong that it created a falsehood of pregnancy, just because you were so scared and sure of it.

Life is odd for the moment. You tried so hard to get rid of the unwanted child and they were never there to begin with. You had to go through with the nervousness that consumed you. The call to the doctor, the waiting, the glances that Danny gave you as if he knew something. You wonder if he did know. He isn’t dumb, a bit dense when it comes to your feelings, but he’s smart in a way that matters. You hope that he doesn’t know, for both your sake and his. The little scare will be something that you take to your grave, hoping that it’ll remain just that.

The fan is turned on with a simple swipe of your hand against the light switch, the room filling with white noise. You sit on his couch, your body stiff as if it were the first time that you had visited his home. You still remember how it was. Dirty. You hadn’t expected that from him. There was trash all over, a sort of musty smell and an empty fridge. He hadn’t seemed embarrassed, but rather mildly inconvenienced even though he was the one to invite you over. However, now the place is as clean as it can be, the musty smell now replaced by a slight twinge of alcohol and tobacco, but with an overlapping floral scent from one of your candles. You can’t help but wonder if he minds that you added bits and pieces of yourself into his home. He calls it your home too, almost too eager to make sure that you know that you belong here, but even so, it doesn't feel like your home. It’s too empty, too devoid of your touch. You still feel as if you’re a guest, waiting and cleaning, tending to him when he needs it.

The simple fact of the matter is, this isn’t your home. Your stuff, your personal items that you decorated your home are still in boxes shoved under the bed. You miss your home. “I miss my home,” you say to yourself, tears pricking in your eyes. The rent was cheap, and the landlords were kind enough, but it’s gone. The place scooped up by some stranger and the thought has your stomach rising.

You’ve thought about leaving here. Perhaps not Danny, but maybe that would be a consequence of you leaving. It was too rushed. You were too scared of Ghostface invading your life again. You made a rash decision that the both of you now have to pay for. He lost his space, his privacy and you can tell he holds some resentment, the way he slams the doors close, how he locks the rooms and won’t speak to you until he needs something, until he’s pressuring you to kiss him with a half-hearted apology on his tongue.

You glance at the coffee table, old and cracked, the paint on the wood chipped and revealing the unfurnished finish. The photo frame is cold, a slight layer of dust over it, concealing your nervous smile and Danny’s wide one. He isn't happy, but he’s smiling. You both only have a few pictures with each other. It isn’t much, and you’re surprised that the photographer wouldn’t want more, but it can’t be helped.

The photo is placed back on the table, and you lay down on the sofa, grabbing at the throw blanket that you added. Your arms act as a pillow underneath your weary head, and you stare at the photo, training over how his arms are wrapped tight round you and how close that he holds you.

Daniel walks into his shared apartment with you, and he immediately spots your shoes in a different position than when he left. He frowns, walking further into the apartment, his eyes scan the room, his eyes landing on a crumpled bag of fast food on the table, the drink creating a water ring on the table. It isn’t like you to be so careless.

The drink rattles in his hand, nothing but cold liquid is inside the container. His bag is heavy as he leans it against the wall on the floor, and he finally finds you. You’re asleep on the couch, your body curled with the decorative throw blanket covering your body as the fan spins above.

He lowers himself to watch you, your soft breaths and the way your face is relaxed. You’re asleep and it brings him back to a time where you were under him, where night concealed him and he was able to hover above you. It’s much different now, you’re still scared but he’s able to kiss you, to have you rake your nails down his back and hold his hand as if it’s the only thing to keep you sane.

A calloused hand cups your cheek, your skin soft and blemished with faded scars that he’s studied meticulously night after night. You wake up with his fingers tracing over your face and he doesn’t make a sound, everything about him is stoic and he wonders how you are seeing this situation in your eyes. Are you scared? Do you know? Are you pregnant? What are you thinking of him at this very moment? You blink slowly at him and he’s reminded of a cat, watching and tired, and there’s a burning desire in him that wonders what you would do if he strangled you right now. Slowly, his hand lowers, his knuckles brushing over your cheekbones and down your jawline, touching against your pulse on your neck and he feels it quicken. Your eyes never leave his and he doesn’t look away. He’s sure that he could convince you that it was a joke or that maybe it was just a dream that you had. It’s been a while since you had such a vivid dream.

Your hand creeps from under the blanket and you hold the back of his hand, moving it back to your face, letting your lips press against the side of his palm in a soft kiss. “Danny,” you say in a sleepy voice as your eyes close. “How was work?” Your hand that holds his becomes limp and he watches as it slides down his hand, catching on the cuff of his sweater until it dangles off the couch.

It wasn’t smart of him to invite you to live with him. He was too reckless, too needy and desperate to have you beside him that he just wasn’t thinking. Even if you are naïve and easily pulled into a false sense of security, he can’t just explain his costume, he can’t explain the knife and all the careful cleaning kits that he has. This is all too risky.

But he can’t throw you out either. He’s become attached. You’re like a pet to him now, and as every disgruntled man says on television, don’t name something or else you’ll get attached. And now he’s fallen victim to it. It’s nice to have such an easy fuck around, to know that he cold do whatever he wanted to you and you’ll stay here with him, because the other option is much scarier. The corners of his lips pull upwards and he pulls his hand away, fixing the blanket above you and he rises from his knees with a sigh.

“Another dead body,” he says with a chipper voice that he can’t seem to hide. “All signs point to our residential serial killer.” It’s much too risky to have Ghostface visit you, you thought this as your safe haven, you have to know and think that it still is, but fuck does he miss your fear and how pitifully you cried. “You never told me why you hated him so much.” He has to bite the inside of his cheeks when your brows knit together. “I know he’s a killer, but did he ever hurt anyone close to you?”

Your eyes shift and you pull the blanket closer to you, the folds stretching across your frame and showing the curves of your body. “I’m not sure, I just-” you catch his eyes and he sees you visibly shrink away from him- “I’m scared of his mask.”

His mouth fills with saliva as he thinks about just how frightened you are. “What a shame, I was hoping to get into roleplay.” He could think about you know, how you'd hit and scream, how he could pretend that it was all part of the act and just hold you down, thinking about how you would put the pieces together and sob.

“That isn’t funny,” you say in a high-pitched voice, already cracking and sitting up to lessen the distance between the two of you. He rolls his eyes in response, standing up from his crouch with a hiss between his teeth. “People are dead,” you whine, as if he hasn’t been keeping up with the news with you. “He killed people.” You’re much more emotional than he thought, but you’ve held your mouth for so long, suffered in your silence and in your vulnerability; it's only natural you would have such strong emotions.

“Relax, it was a joke.” He takes off his jacket and tosses it beside you, watching as you pull yourself closer, further away from his jacket and only staring at it with confusion, as if he dared to have the audacity to throw something your way.

“A dumb one,” you say with with a pout, gripping tighter onto the blanket.

“I said relax,” Danny says in a stern voice, already done with the conversation. He may have been the one to start it but he was hoping for a more playful one, or rather one where you go along with him rather than try to fight him.

“Whatever,” you huff, and he sees you bundle the blanket in your arms, pushing yourself to the further end of the couch, looking at the wall with furrowed brows as your hand tries to discreetly cover your pout.

“Great,” he says sarcastically, turning around and walking towards the fridge. “Now, you’re angry,” he says loud enough for you to hear.

He rises back up with a bottle in his hand, toying with the cap, letting the ridges play against his fingertips. You don’t respond and he can feel his anger start to rise, something thick that lodges in his throat and makes it impossible to swallow. You aren’t answering him. Usually this would be a good sign, something that means he still has you wrapped around his finger, but it feels different. You aren’t moving from your spot, and you aren’t apologizing to him. He puts the bottle down, and runs his hand down his face with a heavy sigh.

“I think,” your voice is small, and he can barely hear it, but he can, “we both rushed into this… relationship. We should have taken it slow.” When you turn to him, he sees that your eyes are wet and you try to take steady breaths but to no avail. “I’m happy with you, but I don’t think we were thinking clearly when we chose to-” your eyes glance around and you look away from him- “to do this.”

His jaw twitches and he watches you, anger boiling inside of him, white-hot that makes it impossible to think and if he could, he'd grab the knife on the counter and stick it in your back but he can’t. Copper fills his mouth and he turns on his heel, the bedroom door slamming behind him, loud enough that he can hear your yelp and loud enough that it makes his ears ring. He wonders what the neighbors would think of it, but he can’t really bring himself to care. He’ll find an excuse, he always does.

His name is muted through the door and he rummages through the closet, pulling out a worn backpack and knocking a few clothes off the anger that he steps on. You enter the room just in time to witness him opening your drawer and throwing your things inside without a care.

“Danny?” Your voice sounds so fearful and it makes him stop for a second, and when he looks at you, your foot slides back out of the room. You’re terrified of him right now. “Danny, what are you doing?” You ask in a small voice, as you take a tentative step inside the room.

“You want to leave right?” He asks in a condescending tone, stepping closer to you with the back held tight in his hand. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll help you pack.”

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t you say that we rushed into this?” With every word he stalks towards you and he tosses the backpack onto the bed, only to miss and have it slide down, the contents inside spilling onto the floor. You look away from him and that only adds fuel to the fire that is tarnishing him from the inside. “Didn’t you?” He shouts, slapping his hand on the dresses, rattling your bottles of perfume and creams. He stares at you, his nostrils flared and jaw tight as he tries to keep a sense of composure. “Did you or did you not?” He asks, his voice eerily calm as he lets his nails drag along the wall. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m sorry, Dan,” you cry, your eyes spilling over with tears. “I wasn’t thinking. Please, I promise, it was just a long day and I’m sorry.”

You’re pathetic and not in the way that he wants you. He turns around and you grab his arm, latching yourself around his forearm. His name is on your tongue and before you have a chance to finish it, he turns around, his hand raised, and mouth pulled into an ugly snarl. You let go of him immediately and try to shield yourself, but he aims for the wall instead. His palm stings and you let out a choked sob.

He can’t think. Not with you here. Not with his emotions running so high. Not when his palm stings and there’s something dark brooding inside of him. He takes a deep breath and he forces himself to look at you. You stare up at him with worry creasing your features.

“It's okay,” his words are still tense, but your body lowers its defenses slightly, and he knows he’s on the right track. “I was angry.” He pulls his hand away from the wall and rubs it with his other, the palm of his hand a light shade of pink. “Why don’t we have dinner, huh?” He tries to give you a charming smile, but it falls flat. “We’ll talk about it over dinner. You know-” he reaches for your hand and grabs it in both of his- “like couple’s therapy or some shit. How does that sound?”

You break away from his gaze, glancing at the floor, and he knows your habits and tics by now. You’ll scan the floor, and look up at him and smile and nod. You play your part so well, and if he had to be honest with himself, he can’t lose that. Not yet. Not when you’re so dependent on him and him on you. He waits for our smile, to give you his own to show that he’s okay, that his anger has subsided for now, but you never give him that. Your mouth parts open and there are tears in your eyes, your hand shakes and grows clammy in his. He calls your name, but you don’t respond. Your breath is ragged, sharp inhales and shaky exhales, and he follows your gaze to the floor under the bed.

In the corner of his eye, he spots white and his nails dig into your skin. “Go get me a beer, I’ll-” he looks down at you and your eyes are stuck, glued to the floor where you can see the face that has haunted you- “I’ll clean up, okay? Just give me a moment.” It isn’t enough, you’re still looking where the mask lays, the bottom half of the face peeking from under your undergarments. Your mouth opens in a silent question and when you look back at him, you’re scanning his face. His body runs hot, his mouth going dry and he says the only thing that can come to mind. “I told you I wanted to try roleplay.”

“I thought you were,” you hesitate, and your tongue peeks to wet your lips, “I thought you were kidding,” you say breathlessly, your words slow as if you were hypnotized and the truth of the matter is, is that you are. You’re ruined by the mask that lies on the floor, the mouth of it the only thing that you can see. You peel away from him and have your back turned to him, your arms coming up to give yourself a hug. “I’ll go get you a beer,” you say in a daze, and when you turn back, your smile is weak, and you can’t look at him for long, your eyes magnetized to the mask on the floor.

He’s left alone in the room, his nails digging into the palm of his hands and red in his vision. The worst part of it all is that he can’t go out tonight. Not when you saw his mask. You’re naïve, and easily spooked, but even you could put two and two together. Even your suspicions would start to rise as you questioned why there was a murder the night he went out. Why Ghostface hasn’t come back for you. You’d suspect him and he can’t have that, not when you’re already so fearful of him.

#ghostface #dbd ghostface #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #danny johnson imagine #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #dead by daylight #dbd #i really like this one #mainly the ending #of the chapter

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Note

Congrats on your 2k!!! 🎉🎉🎉

For my request:

Jax Teller (obvs 😉)

Emojis:

🤠🎃👊

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! And thanks for the congrats! 💗

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Not Gonna Go Cowboy

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, talkin’ dirty, cowboy kink, blowjob in a bathroom at a Halloween party Word Count: ~1.1k Emoji Prompt: 🤠🎃👊 (key words are in bold)

GIF by thegavelcorrupts (text added by me)

“Jax, can you promise you won’t make a mess of tonight?” you implore your boyfriend as you try on the dress from your Halloween costume last year which is fitting a little too tight. “I just don’t want you and the Sons bringing your guns and making new enemies left and fucking right. Not every party has to turn into a fight.”

Jax chuckles with a playful smile, as he tries wrapping a white bedsheet around his body toga-style. On anyone else this attempt at a Greek god getup would look more like Casper the Clownass Ghost to be quite honest. Somehow Jax looks like an absolute Adonis.

He’s really not feeling it though and so he throws it off, taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing out a puff. “Look, babe, we’re not gonna go cowboy—I promise.” He can tell you’re not convinced as he starts seeking superhero costume inspiration in a cardboard box full of his old childhood comics. “What, you don’t believe me on this?”

You roll your eyes, reach for another slutty dress to try it on for size. “Hardly. That’s what you said before I took you to my office Christmas party. Two minutes after we had pulled up on your Harley, you went off and punched my boss straight in the face.”

“That’s ‘cause he told me I’d scored a hot bitch and he wanted a taste,” Jax reminds you just why he meant serious business, and had to give that guy a black-and-blue Christmas, that night at your office. “You know I had to show him who the real boss is. And who the real bitch is.”

“He ended up needing a shit ton of stitches...”

“Hey, you should be thanking my ass for beating his the way I did,” your man smirks and he’s right you just have to admit. “Scared him off so hard he quit. And now you’ve got a new boss who’s not such a sleazy old idiot.”

“I guess it’s true…” you watch him fondly as he sorts through some outfits that you two swiped from the porn studio supply to use for roleplaying in bed; standing there in his kutte scratching his gorgeous golden head, he decides none of it will do. “You’re my cowboy with loaded guns and leather armor aren’t you.”

Suddenly those words just gave you an idea for a completely awesome couple costume. Your eyes gleam mischievously as you join him across the room. “Speaking of cowboy glory… let’s do Toy Story. You can dress up as Red Woody and I’ll be your Little Hoe Peep.”

Jax turns to face you—to embrace you—wastes no time at all, swiftly shoving you up against the wall, handling you like his good little fuckdoll. “Mmm, I hear Little Hoe likes to blow deep.”

***************

Nobody face-fucks like Jax Fucking Teller.

When you’ve got this cowboy’s cock plowing your throat there is no greater pleasure.

As soon as he’d uttered blow deep you were down on your knees to suck him off right in his bedroom—yet the pleasure’s even greater, when the two of you hit up the party later… sneak away from all the neighbors and the strangers… so that you can blow him all over again here in this filthy fucking bathroom.

Past the door the shitty party music pounds in a pulsating boom; the beat of blood in your veins drowns out the volume. There is just something about him in this silly fucking costume…

His lush blonde locks shine extra bright beneath that downright stupid hat, and you’re a total slut for that. Gun in his holster that he ain’t afraid to shoot. These jeans fit different on the contours of his ass and these damn boots—Jesus they’re motherfucking rude. He looks so good he should be sued.

Then he starts dirty talking at you with a little cowboy drawl—ever so slightly twirling up his words as you fall to your knees before him with your back against the wall—and Christ you’re motherfucking screwed…

“Mmm, lookatchu,” he snarls, the luscious smirk upon his lips quirking up sideways as it curls. “Down on your knees beggin’ for dick just like a nasty slut would do. You filthy little girl.”

There’s already a little cowboy in him with the way that he says darlin’, but the way that he draws out his vowels now has got the kinky bitch inside you totally unfurling.

“Dirty little thing,” Jax teases and it’s almost thang—just almost so he doesn’t take it too far with his playful southern twang.

Whips out his cock like it’s a loaded gun and sweet Lord you can almost hear the bang. Your tongue unravels from your drooling mouth and you just let it hang.

He slaps the glistening wet tip against your ever-thirsting tastebuds. Snickering in satisfaction as he watches your reaction. Eyes roll back into your skull in utter bliss then flutter shut, as you take in the sweet and salty taste of Jackson. “Yeah that’s it doll. Let me see that fucking facehole. You my perfect little slut?”

He’s so damn hot that you can barely even nod, kneeling before this golden god.

Jax licks his lips and sees yours slobbering with thirst, before he starts bucking his hips to push his dick across the warm slick of your tongue and building up the pace and force. “Want me to fuck this purdy face of yours? Plow through that throat like it’s a dirty little pussy? Get this sweet mouth wet and juicy?”

By now you can’t think straight at all. Just swallow his cock till your bottom lip is smashed against his heavy hanging balls. You cling for life to the tight denim of his jeans. It’s clear that he’s digging the sight of you kneeling before him in your pink bonnet and polka-dotted dress, part of the costume of the sweet innocent shepherdess, and everything about this setup is deliciously obscene.

But how the fuck is he so perfect at this role? It’s Halloween, but he’s a natural and a master of the scene. Jax owns the act as fully as he owns your holes. He’s never played into a cowboy kink before, you’re pretty sure—but everything he says and does now to remind you that you’re his cocksucking whore, is just so seamlessly and effortlessly filthy that it’s clean.

He’d told you he wouldn’t go cowboy at this party… but you’re so glad that he did.

This is the perfect kind of naughty. It’s exactly what your inner Little Hoe Peep fucking needed.

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writing-wh0re · 4 years

Note

Hi!!! Can you do 5 and 29 with Sweet Pea or Billy

All writings will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 940 - Longer than I expected.

Warnings: Smut18+, Alcohol, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Intercourse, Very Slight Cockwarming, Daddy Kink, Choking, Explicit Language, Slight Praise Kink, Jealousy(?).

Prompt’s Requested:

5 - one more time

29 - without me?

A/n: I hope you enjoy!

I walk through the halls of Hawkins high school as I spot him, his back against my locker as Heather touches his shoulder laughing at something he said. As I get closer I hear more of their conversation, my presence still unknown as my blood boils at Heather’s words.

“One more time? With me?” Her voice drips with seduction as I scoff rolling my eyes.

“Move Billy.”

“Afternoon baby girl.”

“Oh, hi Y/n, I forget that you’re dating Billy.”

I fake a smile as I turn to my locker ignoring the girl.

“I’ll see you tonight Billy, don’t be late okay.” Heather warns as he smirks at her nodding as he chews his gum.

“Don’t be late.” I mimic as I put my books into the locker, shutting it as I lean against the cool metal, Billy standing in front of me, his hands on my hips as he smirks.

“You aren’t jealous, are you baby?” My eyes roll in annoyance as Billy leans closer his grip on my hips tightening slightly. “Because I’d be happy to have you remind me who owns my cock.”

Blush hits my cheeks as I pull Billy closer to me by his jean jacket, our lips smashing together as his hands run up my back.

“Billy!” I hear Tommy call his name as Billy groans against my lips, his body heat leaving mine as Tommy cups his shoulder.

“Want to head straight to mine?”

Billy looks at me as Tommy chuckles.

“Y/n is a big girl, I’m sure she can ask one of her friends for a ride.”

I narrow my eyes at Tommy as Carol appears beside him, her hand resting on her shoulder.

“Carol can take you home.”

“Actually I was heading straight to yours, so she can’t.”

I roll my eyes as I look at Billy, waiting for him to say something as he just keeps his eyes anywhere but mine. Seriously?

“Enjoy your party.” I scoff as I push through the pair. “Oh and say hi to Heather for me.”

I turn my back and continue walking out of the school as I see the last bus leave.

“Fucking perfect.” I groan as I see Steve walking to his car. Bingo.

“Harrington!”

“Steve!”

Steve turns to look at me quizzingly as I almost run over to him.

“Could I ask a huge favour?”

“Uh, depends really, will your boyfriend beat me up?”

“I am sorry he did that, but could I maybe have a ride home?”

“A ride home? Why can’t Billy take you?”

“You ask a lot of questions, but he has a party, please I can give you gas money.” I attempt to persuade him as he sighs nodding.

“Only because you’re my neighbour.” Steve reasons as I smile, walking over to his passenger side.

“I really appreciate this.”

“Just make sure Billy knows I didn’t initiate this.”

I nod as Steve’s engine roars to life, he reverses out of the parking space fast as I see Billy walk out of the school. I make eye contact with him as I blow him a kiss, his body language showing how pissed off he is as Tommy laughs beside him.

“So why don’t you want to go to his party?” I turn to look at Steve as I sigh.

“I would go, if he asked me to go, but i'm not mad about the party.”

“What are you mad about?”

“You really do ask a lot of questions.” I chuckle as Steve shrugs.

“Typically we go back to mine, fool around a bit and then he goes to the party. However this week Tommy thought it would be a fantastic idea to go straight to his and suggest I find my own way home.”

“Oh, so you listened to Tommy?”

“No, Billy just kind of ignored it and I got fed up with it.”

“Ah, girls man.”

I shove Steve in the arm as he chuckles, I rest my head against my seat as the wind flicks through my hair. We pull into Steve’s driveway as he cuts the engine.

“Thanks again Steve.” I smile as he nods.

“Why don’t you go to the party? Prove them all wrong and just have a good night?”

I tilt my head slightly thinking as Steve chuckles.

“The parties aren’t bad, I used to go and I had fun.”

“I just might, thanks Harrington.”

Steve nods as I get out of his car, walking across his yard to my house. I run through my house to my bedroom as I start my search for an outfit, one that would capture Billy’s attention in an instant. I throw on a few outfits before deciding on my red bralette, leather skirt and black boots.

I quickly run the straightener over my hair and touch up my makeup as I look over myself in the mirror.

“Too much.” I sigh as I hear a knock at my front door, I grab my leather jacket as I attempt to shield my body.

I open the door to Steve’s back as he quickly spins around, his eyes going wide as his mouth falls open in slight shock.

“Yeah it’s too much.”

“No no, you look great, it definitely screams Billy.”

I smile at Steve’s compliment as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Sorry for interrupting you but I figured you’d probably need someone to drive you and I know Nancy is going so..” Steve trails off as I nod.

“So you’ll take me?”

“Uh, yeah yeah, unless you want to go without me?”

“Lets go.”

I grab my keys as I close and lock up the house, following behind Steve as I yet again get in his passenger seat, deep down I feel butterflies erupt due to the nerves of my outfit and Billy.

“Tommy’s house?”

I hum in agreement as Steve starts the unfamiliar drive to Tommy’s.

The music can be heard halfway down the street as Steve parks his car a few houses down both of us getting out.

I let out a deep breath as we walk into the party together, people staring at us as I keep my eyes down attempting to ignore the stares as I feel Steve’s hand grab my bicep.

“I’m going to find Nancy, if pretty boy is a dick I can take you home.”

I nod as Steve and I part ways, the music rocks through my bones as I see a table littered with alcohol and red cups. I look between the bottles before deciding on Vodka, pouring the clear liquid into the cup as I top it up with lemonade. I take a deep breath before taking a sip, the bubbles dancing across my tongue.

“Y/n?” I roll my eyes as I turn to face the girl.

“Carol, hey.” I hold my cup against my shoulder as Carol looks me up and down clicking her tongue slightly.

“You’re going to embarrass Billy, turning up with Steve dressed like that.”

“Speaking of Billy, where is he?”

Carol sighs as she turns and points out the window, I see Billy playing beer pong with Tommy.

“He has a cheerleader.”

I flick my eyes to his side, Heather clapping her hands and holding onto his shoulder as he lands the ball in a cup.

“Fucking fantastic.” I quickly finish my drink as the bubbles and alcohol burn my throat.

“Nancy, please just listen.” I hear Steve say as Nancy shuts a door in his face, Steve rests his forehead against the wood as he sighs.

“Just give her time.” I almost yell over the music as Steve nods. I walk out of the room into the cool air, hearing Heather cheer Billy again as I stand next to Tommy.

“My go next?”

“Uh, um, yeah.” Tommy’s eyes linger on me as I smirk. I take the ping pong ball from his hand, turning my attention to Billy as he smirks, licking his lips as his eyes drink in my outfit.

“C’mon baby girl.”

The plastic ball slips from my fingertips as it bounces on the table, landing in a cup as Tommy cheers for me, shaking my shoulders. Billy shakes his head as he picks up the cup quickly finishing the golden liquid as a few drops land on his open chest. My eyes stay focused on the area as I bite my lip softly, hearing Billy chuckle as I shake my head knowing he caught my eye.

“If I land this, Y/n drinks.”

I look at Tommy as he chuckles. “Y/n doesn’t drink.”

“You really don’t know me Thomas.”

Heather giggles looking back at Billy as his eyes look past her, staying locked to me. The ball drops from her hand bouncing a few times as it skims the first cup and lands in the second.

“Fuck.” I groan quietly as I take the ball out, shaking off the liquid as the cup touches my lips, the beer flows over my tongue as I swallow hard, holding the empty cup in the air as Tommy claps for me.

“Where has this Y/n been the past year?!” Tommy questions as I roll my eyes.

“Hey Y/n.”

I spin around looking at Steve as he holds his keys between his fingers.

“Yeah?” I walk over to him so he doesn’t have to shout at me as he sighs, visibly upset.

“I’m going to head out, do you need a ride?”

“You’ve done enough Harrington.”

I feel goosebumps hit my skin at Billy’s voice as Steve rolls his eyes.

“At least I made sure she got home okay.”

Billy moves past me as he gets up in Steve’s face.

“For fuck sake, Steve is leaving, let him leave.” Steve looks at me as I warn him to not start anything as he scoffs and walks away from Billy.

“Finish the game without us.” Billy says towards Tommy as he grabs my hand, pulling me through the party and into the same room Nancy was once in. I look around at the tiled walls and sink, confirming in my mind it's a bathroom.

“You asked him to take you home.”

“Yeah, because you didn’t fucking offer.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to come tonight.”

“You didn’t ask.”

I cross my arms across my chest as my cleavage becomes more prominent, Billy’s eyes falling to my chest as he smirks, licking his lips.

“Did you dress like this for me?” He brushes my hair behind my ear as I smirk.

“Steve actually helped me pick this, said it looked the best.”

Billy’s face drops at my tease as he backs me against the counter, his hands boxing me in as he chuckles low.

“You aren’t jealous, are you baby?” I repeat his words to him as his hand moves swiftly from the counter to grip my throat, his lips smashing against mine in a heated make out, our tongues slipping against one another as I taste tobacco and beer on him.

His hand moves from my throat as he slides them down my thigh, picking me up and placing me on the counter as I run my fingers through his hair, his hands on my back dancing across my exposed skin as I start to undo his button up.

Our kiss breaks as he rids himself of his shirt, I go to wiggle out of mine as he stops my hands.

“Leave it on.”

I smirk as I pull him closer to me by his belt loops, fumbling with the fabric as his hard cock springs free. A soft moan falls from my lips at the sight of him as he guides my hand to pump him up and down. Our lips locking together as I keep my rhythm on his cock.

His hands slide my leather skirt up my legs as he pulls my panties to the side, his fingers running up and down my glistening slit as I moan against his lips as he rubs my clit.

“So wet for daddy, such a good little girl.”

I meekly nod against his lips as he pulls away from me.He guides himself to my pussy, as I open my legs a little wider to wrap them around him.

“Oh daddy.” My head falls back slightly as the familiar pleasure rushes through my body.

Billy’s hips pick up their pace as he fucks into me fast, his hand grips my throat as I roll my eyes back, moans falling from my mouth as he grunts.

“Who owns this pussy?”

“You daddy.”

“That’s fucking right baby, you’re all mine.”

I whimper as his grip tightens on my throat, his other hand slipping between my folds to play with my clit. My pussy tightens around his length as he smirks at me.

“You take me so well.”

The praise rushes to my core as the sounds of my wetness fill the air, his pace never faulting as I bite my lip, my eyes starting to see spots.

“I’m going to cum.”

Billy circles my clit faster as I wrap my legs around him tighter, attempting to hold him closer to me as I cum around his cock.

“Jesus.” I cry out as the sensitivity shocks through my body. Billy’s cock twitches inside me as a moan falls from his lips, he lifts my skirt up a little more to watch himself slide in and out of me as his warm release covers my slick walls. He stays buried inside me as he cups the back of my neck, our lips locking together as our tongues taste each other again.

A whimper falls from my lips as he slides out of me. Billy cleans both of us up as my legs shake slightly.

“I’ll ask you to come to parties more often.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head as Billy smirks, helping me off the counter as I look at my appearance in the mirror.

“You look fucking sexy.” His hand slaps my leather gladded ass as he opens the door, the reality of the loud party hitting me again as we walk back to the beer pong table together.

| | |

Everything Taglist:

@mathletemadison

#writing-wh0re-requests #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x y/n #daddy!billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fan #billy hargrove request #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #darce montgomery #darce montgomery smut #darce montgomery x you #billy hargrove x oc #stranger things

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years

Text

Capture This! || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You walk in on Denki, your best friend of five years, getting off. Two questions: Why is there a picture of you? And why do you want him to take more?

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 6k+

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub bingo event! Thank you @shoutogepi and @im-here-for-the-heroes for beta reading. Shout out to @whats-her-quirk this fic was born from me poppin in during your thirst hours lol

“Lotion? Check. Tissues? Check. Pictures?”

Denki swallows.

“Check.”

It’s routine for Denki, really the only ritual he sticks to in his otherwise scatterbrained schedule of kickin’ ass, chilling with friends, and playing Fortnite till ungodly hours of the morning.

But he can’t help it. You’re fucking gorgeous, and Denki has needs - his brain programmed to get off at least three times a day else he can’t function. The first time it happened, he felt a deep sense of shame, twisting his gut, disgusted with himself that he defiled your image. He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week until you had enough and demanded to know what was up. It was the first time he lied to you.

But one time became two, and three, and suddenly Denki needed an image of you all the time. The one of you looking all pretty in that stupid summer dress was his favorite. You bought it that one time you dragged him to the mall because you needed a “guy’s opinion.” He rushed to the bathroom because if he didn’t get out fast, he was gonna drag you back into the changing room and rip that dress off himself.

You’re adorable, hot, sexy, and absolutely terrifying, wrapped up in one perfect package.

Oh, and did he forget to mention?

Totally off-limits.

This is why Denki has to resort to hanging out with you, listening to you vent about your boy problems, and how you just want to meet “the one” already. Denki’s heart breaks a little more every time you shove him deeper into the friend zone, all the while pretending like he didn’t just jerk it to you a couple hours before.

He works his hand up and down his shaft, growing harder by the second with each stroke. It doesn’t take much to get him going, not when it’s you. You’re wearing his hoodie, toes buried in the sand, roasting a marshmallow in front of a bonfire. You’re smiling at something Kirishima said, Denki doesn’t remember what, because all he could see was the light in your eyes. A genuine spark lit only when the cameras were off, and you were unaware of anyone watching. Denki loved witnessing these rare moments; wanted to commit it to memory, so he did. When you posted the picture on Instagram, Denki was more than surprised; you had scrunched your nose when he showed you the picture, displeased with how you looked.

This should not be happening. Any normal person would feel ashamed when staring at a picture of their best friend and touching themselves. No one knew about it, and Denki was surprised he was able to keep it a secret for this long considering he’s friends with fucking Mina of all people.

Enough pre-cum bubbles at the tip that he doesn’t even need the lotion. Staring at you on the screen, wearing his hoodie that’s way too big it covers your thighs completely, makes his mind wander to all sorts of ways he wishes he could get you out of that hoodie. He leans back into the chair, spreading his legs with his eyes half-lidded, imagining what your lips might look like wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck yeah...”

Groaning at the image of you on your knees, lips bruised and slicked with spit from fucking your pretty little mouth has Denki tightening his fist, hips fucking into his hand in a continuous rhythm.

He’s on the verge of coming when the door swings open - the first and last person Denki wants to walk in is standing there in front of him.

“Hey, I called, but you didn’t - ah!” You squeak, throwing the box you’re holding. A sea of random knick-knacks and hero merch rains over you. You hear a thump when the yellow polaroid camera you bought for Denki at a thrift shop hits the floor.

“Fuck!” Denki jumps from his chair, an array of pens fall in a heap to the floor.

You whip your head away, heat spikes your body, embarrassed that you saw your best friend in such a compromising position.

Denki mutters a repeated “shit shit shit” to himself for a good minute before he finally addresses you; his voice rising with each word.

“How did you get in here!?”

“Spare key, dumbass!”

“That’s for emergencies only!”

“Are you talking to me with your dick out!?”

Silence.

“No?”

You huff at the uncertainty in his tone. It’s only two o’clock, and you can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Denki, if I turn around and you’re not covered, so help me god I will-”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Pants are zipped.”

You don’t move until you hear the confirming “zip” before slowly opening your eyes (you have no idea why your eyes were closed in the first place), and you turn around to find Denki leaning against the desk. He’s trying his best to appear casual, but the flush on his face and frazzled hair give away what he was doing moments before you walked in. You don’t know where it comes from, but the thought alone stirs something inside you.

The confusing emotion is replaced by hot-blooded anger when you lock eyes on the screen behind him.

“Is that my face!?”

Denki’s smile drops as he turns around. Dammit. Of course, he forgot to close the tab.

“Uhhh…”

He has no words, none, not when you’re standing there with that intense look in your eyes you get when you’re about to rip someone a new one. Your anger could rival Bakugou’s, and Denki has unfortunately been in the middle of one too many screaming matches. He’s surprised his eardrums aren’t blown out by now.

He clicks to exit out, or at least he thinks he does until he comes to the dumb realization that he’s clicking the zoom button instead.

“Ho-hold on, let me just…”

With each click, it zooms a little more into your face until only your nose is in the frame. Denki sheepishly looks up at you.

“Oops?”

Denki’s had a good life. He’s already come farther than most ever dream in their career when becoming a pro-hero, and he’s made some amazing friends most spend years trying to find. The only regret of his is not confessing his true feelings to you, but really what’s one regret? He’s totally a-okay with saying goodbye to this cruel, cruel world if it meant not being subjected to this torture any longer.

“Denki Kaminari.”

Denki gulps. Oh no. You only say his full name when you mean business.

“Explain right this instant or I will walk out this door and tell the whole world how you and grape boy took body shots off cardboard cutouts of each other!”

“Hey! We were really fuckin’ drunk and thought it might score us some pity sex with the ladies!”

“In what world would you licking fuckin’ Mineta equal oh yeah, fuck me, Denki?”

Denki cowers with each step you take, gulping down the lump in his throat when your face is close enough to hold in his hands. He’s never been more simultaneously turned on and terrified in his life. Especially when he just heard the words “fuck me, Denki” escape your lips.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Whatever you do. Don’t. Look. Down.

The last thing he wants is you flinging him out the window because he couldn’t keep his eyes on your face. Don’t get him wrong; he could look at your face forever, even when you look like your one move away from killing him. But… he’s a dude, and there’s boobs in front of him, not to mention your boobs.

“Hello? Earth to Denki?” You wave your hand in his face.

“You may wanna sit down for this.”

“I’m fine where I am, thank you very much.”

He huffs out a breath, annoyed you didn’t take the bait. The suggestion was more for his sanity than yours. With you standing so close, his brain is going haywire; the tantalizing scent of strawberries and cream short-circuiting his brain quicker than when he overuses his quirk. It never fails to make his mouth water, if only he could bend down and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, god, he’d never let you go.

How does he even begin to work through the feelings he has for you when they’ve been bottled up since the moment he knew he was in deep? Where does he start?

The fact he’s been in love with you for the past five years?

Or that he’s been getting off to you for half that time?

Denki’s mind is running a mile a minute, like a computer in overdrive. He can’t make enough sense of his emotions to convert into words. But, instead of waiting to open his mouth, like a normal person, Denki spews out embarrassing word vomit that connects his two thoughts.

“I love getting off to you.”

A pin could drop, and it’d be as loud as a freaking hurricane.

Denki groans in frustration, facepalming his forehead. What the hell did he just say, and can he take it back? How long would it take for him to hack into a database and find someone with a time manipulation quirk? He doesn’t even know how to hack, but he’d wrangle his one brain cell and fucking learn if that’s what it takes.

He’s usually good at reading you. You’re one of the few people he cares enough to pick up on how you’re feeling. The myriad of emotions that pass on your face from shock to confusion to a hint of amusement lets Denki know he can breathe easy. At least you’re not trying to kill him anymore.

“Oh-kay that’s not what I - what I meant to say was - hold on, lemme just, rewind.”

He makes some weird, loopy gesture with his arms. His brain was firing a million synapses at once, each connected to a different thought, some deep like the fear of losing you and some not so deep - like he’s really excited to eat the cheeseburgers Bakugou promised he’d grill tonight.

But he tries his best to reign in the million and one thoughts to focus on you, who’s waiting for an explanation. He takes a deep breath to steady his heart that’s about to beat out of his chest. He only hopes you don’t stomp on it after what he’s about to say.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since our first year at U.A. I wanted to tell you for the longest time, but then you got with Bakugou. Then you broke up, and you needed a friend more than ever, and how could I say no to being ‘your best bro’ when you were crying on my shoulder? It was just never the right time.”

The more he rambled, the more uncomfortable he felt. Out of all the scenarios he imagined of how he’d confess to you, this one was at the bottom of his list to be prepared for. He never expected to be forced into confessing because you caught him masturbating to pictures of you. He rubs the back of his neck and gives an awkward laugh when you stay silent.

“I get it if you wanna, like, shun me forever or something. I deserve it for being such a creep.”

Denki lowers his head to the floor, the clutter of fallen pens and knick-knacks looks way less intimidating than staring into your eyes. A soft hand touches his chin, lifting his face to meet yours.

“Hey, look at me, it’s okay.”

Your voice does wonders for soothing the nerves shaking him up.

“I guess it’s not that creepy when you put it like that, and for some weird reason, you’re like the one person I can catch jacking off to my pictures, and I don’t feel the need to report you as a registered sex offender.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but Denki’s heart drops at the idea of you labeling him as the neighborhood perv.

“Please, don’t do that,” he squeaks before clearing his throat, “But for real, Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s wrong to disrespect you like that, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

Denki has no idea how he’s gonna get off now, but that’s his future self’s problem.

“I can’t help it, you’re gorgeous, and I love ya, and I don’t remember the last time I got laid.”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that last part, but it’s the truth. You’re the reason he couldn’t even look at another girl, because they weren’t you, and that’s why he had to resort to pulling up pictures of you. Pictures that aren’t normally deemed “sexy” and of you dressed modestly, without much skin showing.

That doesn’t stop Denki from coming in record time with your name rolling off his lips every time.

“How bad do you want me?”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit curious about what sex with your best friend would be like. You heard he wasn’t a bad lay from a couple girls back at U.A.

You’d also be lying if you didn’t say you were just as horny as said best friend.

It’s difficult finding time to date as a pro-hero. When you do, it doesn’t last very long anyway - the other person growing tired of always coming second to your career. Don’t even get you started on one night stands. They’re practically impossible to uphold as once the media gets wind of it, you’re slapped on the cover of “Hero Times Magazine,” and everyone and their mother is calling for you to “spill the tea.” This is why pro-heroes either end up with other pro-heroes or end up alone.

Denki’s eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline. If someone were to tell him you were attracted to him in any sense of the word, his heart would double-time it, but he’d ultimately brush it off. He knew your type, and he could not be farther from it. The aggressive, beefy, gym rat who could match you move for move in a heated spar of harsh words and hot-blooded passion. You dated Bakugou for fuck’s sake! There was no hope for Denki after that.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take what he can get. The words pour out of him like the dam’s been broken and the unforgiving flood rushes.

“I want you so bad, Y/N, fuck, I’ve waited so long, so fucking long, you don’t know how crazy you make me.”

Your breath catches. His words have an unexpected effect on you, but your heart drums in anticipation. If you listen close enough, you can hear Denki’s beating at the same rate, waiting for what you’re going to say next. Power surges through you. In your past relationships, sex was always seen as this competition. Your exes never wanted to relinquish their pride or control, but Denki is nothing like your exes. He’s laid-back, always cracking jokes, and never dwelling too much on the past, always moving forward to the next moment. He’s perfectly fine with letting you take the reins most of the time. You determine what will happen next.

“You love getting off to me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but he answers in earnest.

“You’re the only one I get off to.”

You slide your dress off, and it falls to the floor.

“Show me.”

Denki’s eyes travel over your body, his mouth slightly open in disbelief at your undressed state. He wants to capture this moment in case this is as much as he gets, even if he can never use this mental picture because he promised you he wouldn’t. His fingers itch to brush along the lace trim of your bra, to graze along your nipple, and watch your reaction. Are you sensitive enough where you’d full on moan, or would he have to strain to catch the small hitch of breath? Denki was never top of his class. He preferred to wing it and hope for the best, but for you, he’d take his time to study every inch and crevice of your body until he could read you cover to cover with his eyes closed. His gaze travels down to the matching lace panties you wear, a cute little bow in the front waiting to be untied with his teeth.

Did you plan to get fucked today? Or do you usually wear matching sets on the regular?

Your skin looks so soft and supple, he’s aching to dig his fingers, but before he can, you step away. Denki cocks his head. Have you changed your mind? But any doubt leaves Denki when you make your way across the room to sit down on the edge of the bed.

You start with feather-light touches dancing along your collarbone. Your eyes are locked on Denki, getting high on the way he drinks in your every move. Your touches are teasing, especially when your finger dips down to your cleavage. Still, instead of giving Denki what he wants, you change course, making your way back to your shoulders. Denki exhales a breath at your teasing, but says nothing, too afraid he’ll ruin the mood if he says something stupid.

When you make your way down again, you don’t disappoint; you pinch your nipple through your bra, and the way Denki swipes his tongue over his lip has heat rushing to your core. You slide your hand down your stomach, stopping when you reach your clothed slit. Denki stares, hungry and buzzing in anticipation for what you’ll do next. Smirking in victory, you spread your legs open and pull your panties to the side, giving him the view to capture the perfect picture of your dripping pussy.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You taunt breathlessly, tracing your folds with your fingers.

Oh shit. Were you for real? Please, tell him you were for real because he legit might cry if this was some elaborate prank. Where are the fucking cameras?

“You don’t want to?” You bite your lip, insecurity seeping through the confident smile you wore just a moment ago.

“No! I mean - yes! Yes, I do, holy shit, let me find - where the fuck is…” Denki whips around, trying to find his phone. Fuck! Out of all the times to misplace it, it has to be now. But then he spots the yellow polaroid camera sitting on the floor, and before he can think, he’s picking it up and praying it has film. He kneels, so he’s eye level with your pussy, but also making sure the angle gets your whole body in the frame. The light streaming in gives you an ethereal look, your skin glowing, and adding to the cute flush on your cheeks. The camera clicks, and a second later, the picture slides out. You giggle at Denki’s impatience. He’s waving the picture frantically in the air, so the color comes through faster. He completely stills when he can finally take a good look at the beauty he’s captured.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look…”

Denki can’t control the groan that escapes. He looks back up at you, eyes darkened with lust before he’s ripping his shorts off so fast, his foot gets caught, and he almost trips in the process. Once he’s out of them, he plops back down in the chair across the room. You’re surprised when all you feel is pure, unadulterated lust. You expected to be at least a little bit weirded out staring at your best friend’s cock, but all you want is to put it in your mouth and explore all the different ways you can make him come. The tip is oozing pre-cum already, and the way he works his hand with a sense of urgency suggests he’s been hard for a while. It doesn’t take long before you hear Denki grunt.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You look so pretty spread out for him. For the last five years, he wanted nothing more than to see you like this. His hips jerk up, and he throws his head back, but he makes sure to keep his eyes open like his life depended on it; he didn’t want to miss a second of this. You, with your legs wide open giving him a view of your perfect little pussy. Your panties soaked by you rubbing your clit mercilessly, and your pupils blown wide as you watch your best friend get off to the show you’re giving him. It’s erotic as hell, completely different from the pictures Denki has of you. This one easily tops all the others. He tightens his fist - he doesn’t want it to end without feeling your skin on his at least once.

“Let me touch you, Y/N, please, I just wanna touch you, need to feel you.”

Denki doesn’t give a fuck that he’s begging at this point. He’s waited too damn long to care about pride or dignity, not when the chance to fuck you is placed in his shaking hands. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, but it comes out anyway.

“Touch me.”

That’s all Denki needs. Before you know it, you’re pushed down on the bed, and lips smash against yours. He’s eager, a little too eager, shoving his tongue in your mouth and touching everywhere that he can. You don’t have much room to breathe, so you gently push at his chest.

“Chill, Denki.”

He huffs out a breath, muscles shaking like he’s restraining himself from overwhelming you.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,”

He mumbles, peppering kisses into your neck before making his way back to your lips. It’s much smoother this time, his tongue sliding out to tease your bottom lip, asking for permission this time. He groans when you open up for him, your tongue meeting his. Hands trail up until they reach around, resting on the clasp of your bra. Honey eyes meet yours, but you cut off his question.

“I’ll stop you if I need to, but you asking me if it’s okay every time you try something is gonna seriously kill the mood.”

You reach around to place your hands on top of his, unclasping your bra along with him. His eyes darken at the sight of your bare chest. You try not to squirm at the intensity of his gaze. It becomes near impossible when he dips down to flick his tongue over your nipple before biting with his teeth. He pays the same attention to the other one before kissing his way down your stomach. You arch your back when he spreads your legs and positions himself between them. He makes his way around, avoiding your dripping pussy, teasing your thighs with soft kisses. You huff in annoyance, and he smirks up at you, biting into the flesh of your thigh. This time he places a kiss to your heated center, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch.

“Is it everything you imagined?” You ask.

He looks up at you, with such a serious expression, one you’ve only seen a couple times since knowing him.

“Everything and more.”

Your heart flutters, and you know you’re going to say something you’ll regret if you don’t stop counting the different shades of gold in his eyes. You clear your throat before throwing your hair back.

“You gonna fuck me, or am I gonna have to do it myself?”

You pull his head in for a demanding kiss, biting on his lip to distract yourself from the rush of bubbling emotions threatening to surface.

“One sec,” Denki whispers, placing one last kiss to your lips, before getting up.

You gape at the giant box of condoms he casually pulls out. It hasn’t been opened, and oh my god, you didn’t even know they made huge boxes like this. There were at least a hundred in there. What person thinks to buy a big box of condoms if their plans don’t include… fucking a whole ass army?

“What the fuck, Denki?”

People usually have one, maybe two condoms in their wallet at most. Some guys don’t have any at all, which kills the mood when you’re in the heat of the moment, so I guess you can be thankful that Denki is... extra prepared?

“What?”

He pulls a condom out and drops the box. It thumps when it hits the floor. You’re taken aback by how nonchalant he’s being about this.

“I- you- wha- How many times do you think we’re gonna do it!?”

Denki slides the condom on, smirking at your shocked expression.

“Till we finish this box,” he says as he slides into you.

You gasp at the stretch. He pushes to the hilt, and stays there when he notices the slight furrow of your brow. It has been a while since you’ve fucked, but soon enough, you crave more so you roll your hips, but he doesn’t move.

“Denki?”

His head is pressed into your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and the stuttering heartbeat matches to the beat of your own.

“Just… gimme a minute, don’t wanna ruin it by coming in two seconds.”

His words are muffled, voice raspy with desire, and you can only imagine what his face looks like. It makes you want him all the more. Finally, someone who doesn’t see sex as an opportunity to one-up you or to put you in your place. It’s scary how the last twenty minutes have changed five years of friendship.

“Hey,” you hold his face in between your palms. He already looks completely fucked out with his face flushed and eyes glazed. You place a tender kiss to his lips, unlike the previous kisses you shared.

“You couldn’t ruin it even if you did come right now.”

You caress his hair in an attempt to reassure him.

“You’d just have to make it up to me,” you wink.

His smile is so pure, lighting up his eyes that’s unique to Denki; it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest. But the moment passes as the previous heat between you two spikes when Denki circles his hips, taking his time to feel you inside and out. He’s touching and kissing you wherever he can, your cheek, neck, chest, thighs, like it’s the first and last time he’ll experience you like this. It might very well be.

This thought doesn’t sit well with you.

Once he’s mapped out your sweet spots, he digs his fingers into your thighs and pulls your hips flush towards his. He pulls out of you until only the tip is brushing your opening and pounds back into you, taking your breath away. He pumps in and out of you faster, and you cry out when he hits that special spot deep inside of you.

“Denki,” you moan. He grunts and spreads your legs even wider, grabbing one and hauling it over his shoulder to pound into you deeper.

He’s getting close, hell, he’s been close even before you walked in.

“F-fuck…” Denki groans, thrusting at an uneven pace and feeling the familiar tightening in his groin.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you flip him over and begin bouncing on his cock in a much more steady rhythm. Denki’s staring up at you, eyes wide in admiration.

You’re a goddess. An absolute fucking masterpiece that needs to be put in a museum for his eyes only. God, when did he get so fucking mushy? You always brought out different sides that Denki, himself, didn’t even know he had. He can’t keep his hands off you, grabbing your boobs, sliding down the curves of your thighs, gripping your ass. He wants to commit it all to memory in case he never gets to know this pleasure again.

“Y/N, ah, shit, I’m gonna...” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

He’s holding on to that sweet release for as long as he can. He’s been craving it since he met you on the first day of class at U.A. His balls tighten, unable to hold it in any longer, before he gives in to the long overdue orgasm. It hits him hard - his entire body tingling from head to toe like 1000 volts of electricity bolt through him. Denki had no idea he could come for this long, but he doesn’t want it to end - it feels so fucking good inside you. He rides it out for a couple more thrusts before he relaxes, completely sated. You try to pull off him, but he grabs your hips and forces you back down. You squeak, clearly not expecting him to care enough to help you out after he finished.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The tone of his voice sounds foreign in his ears, too gruff and too deep, but you seem to have no problems with it as you moan in response, working yourself on top of him. Your thighs crush his hips, shaking with need as you seek a release of your own. You’re tired from bouncing, so you resort to grinding, swirling your hips deliciously around his cock. Denki squeezes your ass in appreciation.

“You close?”

“Close, so close, Denki, please…”

Your eyes well up with tears, desperate to finish; the coil in your stomach wound too tight that you might burst any second. Denki helps you by thrusting his hips to meet yours, his hand rubbing your clit. You jolt at the sudden zap to your clit, you look down to see a small spark leave Denki’s fingertip. He does it again, and you cry out, your pussy fluttering from the electrifying touch.

“C’mon, baby, you can do it, come for me.”

Fuck. Denki didn’t mean for the pet name to slip out, but then you’re moaning louder than before that Denki would’ve had to quiet you if you weren’t alone. Words are tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh, fuck, Denki, I love this so much, I love you, I-”

You slap your hand over your mouth. Denki’s eyes widen for a second before a dangerous glint takes over, and he wretches your hand away from your mouth.

“Lemme hear you. C’mon, Y/N, show me how much you love this.”

You hardly recognize the scream as your own; you flush at how loud you are, but Denki doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to spur him on. He sits up so your chest to chest before he bends down to tug at your nipple with his teeth. You throw your head back in pleasure, your hands coming around to grab at his hair. Golden eyes look up at you from your chest, a slight smirk curving his lips.

“I’m no photographer, baby girl, but I can sure as hell picture us together.”

Leave it to Denki Kaminari to make you come with a cheesy pickup line.

He gives one final thrust, balls slapping against your ass and hitting the spot deep inside you just right. Your thighs quiver from the pleasure wracking your body, a scream lodging out of your throat so loud that the people next door bang on the wall. You’re overwhelmed to the point that all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, whispering his name in a broken whimper as you finish.

You fall next to him on the bed, sweaty and completely wiped, both of you trying to catch your breath. Denki tosses the condom in the trash while you stare at the ceiling, watching the fan swirl round and round. Your mind is no different at the moment, going round in circles, and you’re trying to catch up. Your body feels weightless, tingling all over and loving the high you didn’t think was possible. The bed shifts, and suddenly you’re faced with your best friend of five years. Before he can get a word out, the front door slams shut, and two very familiar, very masculine voices are down the hall, getting closer by the second.

“Kaminari, you lazy shit, get the fuck down here!”

“Shit!” Denki jumps from the bed, ruffling through the mess to find his pants.

“Denki, just lock the door! Hurry!”

It’s too late as the door swings open, and yeah… if today taught Denki anything, it’s that he really needs to lock his door more often. He doesn’t have time to think as he hops back into bed with you to avoid flashing any of his other friends today. Bakugou would probably threaten to chop his dick off and… yeah, Denki doesn’t wanna think about the rest.

You squeak and cover yourself with the blanket when you’re met with two sets of equally shocked crimson eyes.

Kirishima drops the bag of chips he’s holding. It seems like dropping things when walking into Denki’s room was a common theme today, and he’s sure as hell not looking forward to the cleanup. Denki regrets chancing a glance at Bakugou; nostrils flaring like a rabid predator on the loose and Denki’s his target.

The four of you stare at each other for who knows how long before Kirishima breaks out into a full-on grin.

“About time, bro, congrats!”

“Congrats?” You turn to Denki, confused.

“The fuck!? You bangin’ my ex, dunceface!?” Bakugou shouts.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Denki squeaks, hiding underneath the covers.

“Oi! You fuck like a man, you better fight like one, too!”

You roll your eyes, hardly affected by Bakugou’s exploding presence, unlike Denki, who is literally shaking beside you.

“Oh fuck off, Katsuki, listen to yourself. Keyword ex-girlfriend.”

Bakugou sputters, and Kirishima drags him by the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s been in a mood since he found out he’s gonna be the next star of the Bachelor.”

“You wanna die too, shitty hair!?”

You and Denki burst out laughing at the absurdity of Katsuki forced to act like a gentleman on live TV. The image of Katsuki in a suit and tie, holding a rose and actually smiling, is comedic gold to you.

“C’mon, bro, let’s give ’em some space.”

“Oi! You’re on my shit list now! All of you! Aye! Get the fuck off me!”

Kirishima drags Bakugou the rest of the way, giving you a quick thumbs up on the way out.

You and Denki are still cracking up, but your laughter dies when they leave, and you’re faced with the tension from before. Denki sinks lower into the sheets, hating that he keeps getting walked in on. Who decided it was ‘make a fool out of Denki day’ anyway?

“So…” you start.

“So…” Denki finishes.

You both stare straight ahead at nothing.

“Did you mean it?”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly asking him to elaborate.

“What you said, when you... you know...” he makes a clicking noise with his mouth like that’s universal code for fucking, “Or was it just a heat of the moment thing?”

You take a moment to think before you give your response. You want to be as honest as possible, and not lead Denki on in any way. Of course, you loved him, he’s your best friend, but did you love him?

You think back on your friendship, and suddenly a supercut of all the times he was there for you flashes before your eyes. He was there when you needed someone to drive you when you had your wisdom teeth pulled out. You didn’t expect Denki to stay with you the whole weekend, buying you ice cream and watching your favorite movies, but he did.

He was there when you and Bakugou became an item, always listening to you swoon over how amazing a boyfriend he was. Denki would always respond with “But can he do this?” and would proceed to overuse his quirk like an overpowered Pikachu just to make you laugh. It sends a knife through your heart, knowing Denki was in love with you while you were talking about how great of a boyfriend his friend was. Not to mention how he was there when you and Bakugou broke up, heart-broken and vowing to swear off boys for good. Denki held you in his arms while you cried, staying silent the entire time, which you knew was against his nature. Denki was always there for you as a friend. There’s no doubt he’d be there for you as a lover.

“I meant it,” you say.

Tears threaten to spill, and your heart might burst out of your chest and land right into his hands. You hope he holds on to it forever. He squishes your cheeks and leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. This is what you’ve been missing - more like who you’ve been missing. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss, and he meets you move for move. He pulls away, hands still on your cheeks, grazing your cheekbones with his fingertips as he stares into your eyes.

“Denki, I…” You bite your lip, overcome with emotion. You desperately want to say the words to capture this picture-perfect moment forever.

Until you feel something poking your thigh.

“Denki!”

You yell, affronted he popped a boner in the middle of what was supposed to be a romantic moment.

“Sorry!”

“Ugh! Worst timing ever!” You slap his shoulder.

“Ow! I said I’m sorry!”

You wiggle out of his embrace. Silence eats at the room, and you can feel Denki’s energy radiating in uncomfortable frequencies. The last moment had been thoroughly ruined.

But you have all the time in the world to make more.

“... round two?”

Just seeing Denki’s face light up like Christmas is enough to promise the birth of a new moment. He bends over to grab his box of condoms, some spilling on the floor and adding more to the mess, before saying, “hell yeah!”

You roll your eyes with affection. What a weirdo, you think. But he’s your weirdo.

That night, or rather the next day since it was currently three in the morning, Denki plops down on his bed exhausted from the day. He’s fluffing his pillow, trying to get comfortable, when he feels something underneath. His eyes widen when he takes in the picture he’s holding. You must’ve taken it when he was downstairs and snuck it under his pillow. You’re bent over with that same damn lacy bra that sends him for a loop. Your cleavage deliciously on display as you bite your lip and stare at the camera with those innocent eyes. Denki can’t help it, his hand sliding down on instinct and cupping himself through his boxers. He turns the picture around and smiles at the cute little message written on the back.

“To add to your collection 😉”

#kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #bnhabookclub #kaminari denki smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #kaminari imagine #kaminari denki imagine #kaminari smut

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shorkbrian · 4 years

Note

you got any delusional/love sick yan Kiri on valentines day👀👀

You said lovesick and my mind jumped to

(What to expect - no NSFW, drugging, manipulation, marriage talks lol)

(inspired by when I was in the hospital and high off of whatever drug they fed me, I was so relaxed and did whatever the heck they asked. I had to get a catheter and they were like “Strip kid” and no questions I shucked off my scrubs right then and there, spread my legs when they asked, had no worries nor a care in the world. I agreed to anything and everything they proposed bc I was loopy as hell, glad my parents were there to like reel me in afterwards)

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”

A hand on your shoulder eases you from your slumber, blinking awake into the soft light of the morning.

“Breakfast in bed, your favorite-” Kirishima’s grinning wide, eyes big and full of love.

He’s pulled back the curtains, straightened up your room a bit, placed a vase full of flowers on your dresser, directly in your line of sight.

There’s a tray on the bed, a plate stacked with fruit, toast, and a cup of warm tea on the side. Tucked in the corner of the tray is a little red, heart shaped box.

“K-Kiri? What are you-”

“Here, open up!” The man is picking a strawberry, pinching it’s leaves, shoving it against your lips, but you turn your head to the side, brows furrowed.

He shouldn’t be here.

You shove his hand away with a stern look. “What the hell, how did you get in?” there’s no trace of sleepiness in your demeanor as you sit up.

Kiri waves his hand. “Ah, that doesn’t matter-”

“No, it totally does-” You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “I took your key back. How the hell did you get in Kirishima?”

The man deflated slightly, placing the strawberry back on the plate. He was sitting on the bed, shoes off, in casual clothes. “You know me, always loosing’ that thing. I made a bunch of copies for when I got drunk and couldn’t find my keys.” A toothy, apologetic smile is offered, but you’re furious.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to get the fuck out of my house. We’re done. It hasn’t even been a month, Kiri, I told you I wanted to take a break and that I needed space.”

Kirishima bites his lip, bows his head, looks up at your through his eyelashes like a wounded puppy. “But I missed you, and-well... it’s Valentines Day...”

“Get out Kiri, this is ridiculous. This is why I needed a break from our relationship in the first place. You can’t respect my boundaries.” You maneuver around the tray, slipping off the bed and onto your feet, before facing your ex-boyfriend. “Now leave.”

He doesn’t move.

No, he just sits there, staring at you. Then he sighs heavily, sadly, as if you had just insulted his manliness. “At least open the present I got you?”

“No Kirishima, please just go. And get rid of the copies you’ve made of my key. That’s fucking creepy.”

The redhead bristled at that, shoulders rising defensively. Yet still, he refused to move from his spot on the bed. “Hey, it’s not weird! They’re backups-”

“So you can come snoop through my stuff when I’m gone? I don’t want you around anymore.”

Maybe you were being harsh, but you had tried being nice.

Tried letting him down gently, that you wanted to work on yourself and focus on your career. That you wanted him to find someone who could give the same effort that he did, since you obviously weren’t.

Then you had been firmer after he didn’t accept it, explaining that he was smothering you in this relationship, guilt tripping you every time you wanted to go out, trying to manipulate you into feeling bad for him when you chose to do anything but spend time with the man.

He was co-dependent, and reliant on your presence to a frankly alarming degree.

Your stern words seemed to get through to him. The man nodded slowly, running his hands over his face. “God, okay, I’m sorry. I know I can be a little much. I just thought maybe.... I don’t know, that I could fix this? Fix us?”

“Breakfast in bed isn’t going to fix anything, especially not when you break into serve it.” You snipe, feeling a little cold, exposed in your big pajamas. It was warmer under the covers.

“I didn’t! I didn’t break in! I have a key-”

“Just leave, please.”

Kirishima sighed again, before he reached over the tray, picking up the heart shaped box. “Open the present and have one, then I’ll leave?”

Anything to get him going. This was how the two of you would fight, you struggling to make yourself heard, to be respected, and Kirishima completely ignoring your wants, stubborn and unrelenting in his desires.

You took the box as he held it out to you, quickly lifting up the lid to see mini chocolates. Classic Valentine gift.

“Just one? Then I promise I’ll go.” He pleaded.

A chocolate was selected, one with little sprinkles on the rounded top. You had to admit, they did look delicious.

Your ex-boyfriend always was a generous man, insisting upon giving. Giving back rubs, giving kisses, giving you prime cuddles and giving you undying love.

“Can I feed it to you?”

A glare was shot his way, and Kirishima quickly fell silent.

One bite, then two, and the chocolate was gone. it was sweet, almost sickly so. When Kirishima left, you’d be throwing the entire box into the trash.

“Good girl.” His voice was low, mischievous, and your body heated up at the praise while you swallowed the chocolate down.

“’Kay, I had some, it was lovely, now get out.”

He rose to his feet, and you were reminded of his size, intimidated immediately by the way the man towered over you. You’d forgotten how big he was in the time you’ve spent apart.

But he moved past you without another word, out of your bedroom.

You followed him down the hall, through the dining room, to the front door, where he stopped and turned.

“I know why you’re really pushing me away, (Y/N).”

“Oh, do you.” Crossing your arms, you waited for his explanation.

“You’re scared. You found the ring, didn’t you? I understand if you don’t want to get married just yet, but I wish you had just told me that instead of freaking out.”

Ring? What ring? Marriage?

Kiri continued. “I’m willing to wait. I’ll always wait for you, no matter how long it takes. You can’t rush love, baby, you taught me that.”

Your face felt warm, he couldn’t be serious. Marriage? The two of you had been dating for a significant amount of time, but there had never been any talk of marriage.

“Kiri-”

The man took two steps towards you, invading your personal space. You tried to backpedal, overwhelmed by his sudden, looming presence, but meaty hands gripped your arms, locking you in place.

“Are you starting to feel it yet?” His face was too close, warm breath splashing against your skin, those dark red eyes searching your own, eager, anticipating.

“What? Kiri, let me go-”

“It’ll kick in real soon I bet, and then the real Valentine’s Day fun will start. Fuck-” The man breathed, pushing himself back from you a bit, taking a deep breath. “I’m so excited that I get to be with you again. I’m going to treat you right, you won’t ever have to feel afraid of commitment again. I’ll be the best boyfriend, best fiancé, best husband, best dad-”

“Kiri-” You gasped, struggling in his hold. The man didn’t even notice, lost in his own convoluted fantasy as he stared down at you with affection. You were starting to feel warm, woozy.

What was he saying about something kicking in?

“Did you-oh my god, did you drug me?” Is that why he had been so insistent about the chocolate?

“It’s not really a drug, more of a relaxer!” His smile was so bright, teeth too sharp. You felt unsteady on your feet. “I know you’ve been stressed out lately, and that's another reason why you needed a “break”, so this is the perfect way to relax!”

When had he picked you up? Kirishima was carrying you back towards your bedroom, bridal style. You rested against his chest blearily, blinking your eyes in confusion as your world spin.

“A nice breakfast, some cuddles...” He cooed, setting you on the bed, climbing up after you so he could rest you against his side. You felt like you were asleep, dreaming maybe? You didn’t know.

Kirishima held a strawberry up to your lips. “Open sweetheart-” You opened, bit down, chewed, swallowed.

“We can mess around a little, I’ll light some candles- oh! And I brought wine too! We can drink some wine, play with each other.... I love you so much, (Y/N).”

A kiss, pressure against your lips, body crushed in a hug against a broad, muscular chest. You relaxed into it. Nothing felt real.

“We’re gonna spend the rest of our life together.”

597 notes · View notes

luvnami · 3 years

Photo

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 (here) | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This is my entry for @jjkmag Summer Collab! It’s my first long fic in a while but I had a lot of fun writing this (that isn’t to say I think it’s very good. I hope the plot/finality was pulled off decently ok lol). I hope you enjoy it! I chose the prompt 'coming of age', though there are definitely scenes where the other prompts were present as well. Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife @amjustagirl @aliteama

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Bullying, Mild Racism (only in the first part), Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6.4k

The first memory Nanami has of you sits in a blurry haze at the back of his mind.

You’re probably four or five years old at best, squatting by a puddle in the empty kindergarten playground. Nanami wonders what made him waddle over to you that warm afternoon.

His shoes, scribbled with ugly caricatures in marker, carry him to the other side of the puddle. A shadow cast by a plastic slide slices your features neatly in half like a Greek theatre mask. Nanami doesn’t speak a word to you as he stares at your chubby fingers that push a fallen leaf around in the water as the surface ripples silently.

You look up at Nanami. He’s an odd child, excluded by the other kindergarteners because of how quiet and strange he is. Nanami’s blond hair is abnormal to the immature local Japanese children. They knee the back of his legs while calling him names like ‘banana-gaijin!’ and making fun of his fancy leather shoes.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Nanami wonders if the words you speak to him are from your heart or something constructed from a plan to bully him again.

“My mama taught me how to make boats with leaves. See?” You point to the puddle. “We can race them.”

Nanami carefully selects a leaf off of the playground’s floor. It’s still green, freshly fallen from its branch. You grin toothily, your eyes sparkling.

“That’s a perfect leaf!” you declare.

Nanami thinks he wants to play with you forever.

He follows you around in school like a lost puppy after that, clutching his hands nervously when you stand up to the children who bully him. Nanami wonders if you’ll ever turn your back on him. He arrives earlier than you every morning and hurriedly scrubs at your table with his handkerchief to get rid of nasty words and obscene drawings, heart thumping against his cotton polo. When his mother asks him why his new handkerchief is so dirty, he remains silent and grips the hem of his shirt tightly.

Children are children; Nanami learns. Afraid of abnormalities, they defend their right to innocence and ego with harsh words and various schemes. He learns to ignore the whispers behind his back. What he can’t disregard, though, is when they lash out at you.

They jeer when you trip during P.E. classes and bump into you on purpose when you carry your lunch tray. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Nanami holds your hand gently and leads you to the nurse’s office with scraped knees, hiccuping and swiping at your eyes roughly.

He wonders why you don’t take the easy way out and just stop being friends with him. What’s wrong with you? You hold him tightly, a bundle of thorns, in your soft hands and pretend that you’re not bleeding.

“Ken-chan?” you sniffle.

He turns.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Nanami gulps. He doesn’t question why you cry on graduation day, bidding your final farewell to him with vague promises of meeting in the same elementary school. Something in his chest doesn’t sit right; the kind of feeling when his mother threw out his old stuffed toys after she deemed him too old for them anymore.

He watches you grow smaller and smaller in the rear window of his family car till you’re the size of an ant, his knees digging into the leather seats.

“Sit down, Kento,” his father chides.

Nanami ignores him. He watches you wave your hand in the air as the car turns around the corner and lurches into the seat.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s genuinely surprised when he finds out that his assigned seat is right next to you on the first day of elementary school. You’re no different, mouth wide open in an ‘o’ as you stare at him.“Ken-chan!”

You almost yell, and Nanami shushes you as his face heats up. He finds out that your mothers had conspired to put the both of you into the same school. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet, but peace settles into his chest the same way the wings of a bird return to its sides after flight when you giggle at his flustered expression.

Through nine years of elementary and junior high school together, Nanami learns that you always arrange the tips of your pencils to face the right side of your pencil box, and you keep the torn bits of movie tickets shoved into your bedside drawer. You find that Nanami has a knack for dry humour — he’s blunt at every moment possible (which caused much distress after he talked back to a teacher that one time) and can usually be bribed for any favour as long as you pay him in food.

What the both of you find oddly shocking, though, is that no one else can see the creatures that swim through walls and perch in dark corners of the school.

They make you sweat whenever they get too close, bulbous eyes and strange bodies twisting in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible. Sometimes they make noises, whispering or coaxing or shrieking or crying in broken sentences.

Nanami learns to treat them as background noise. You, on the other hand, find that a little more complicated. Sometimes you latch onto him when one brushes against your arm, squeaking and swatting at them in an attempt to chase them away.

“They’re so gross!” you’d whine, pressing yourself even closer to Nanami. “Did you see that one in the gym yesterday? It had tentacles!”

In cases like this, the blond clears his throat and ignores you, averting his gaze. He doesn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that the warmth of your skin through your uniform makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve grown so close to him that you even know that Nanami sleeps with Doraemon pajamas (absolutely, abhorrently embarrassing. He made his mother throw them out the night after you came over for a sleepover). It was inevitable for him to develop feelings.

Nanami shoves his feelings below a lid and sits on top of it, keeping them under lock and key. He’s sure this is just something to do with puppy love or ‘infatuations’ that are underlined in the puberty print-outs the school distributed, alongside scientific diagrams of genitals that the boys in his class giggle at.

Being friends is enough. Or so he thinks, anyway.

☆*: .｡.

It’s a Friday evening when the sky is dark, and street lights flicker in the distance. Nanami munches away on melon bread from a convenience store while you sip on a carton of juice. Your clubs had ended late today, so the sun was down by the time you left school.

“How’s the bread?” you ask, slurping up the last drops of your drink.

Nanami chews and swallows while you dab at your mouth with a yellow cotton handkerchief.

“It’s okay. Not as good as a bakery’s, though. Kinda stale.”

He crumples the plastic packaging in his hand and sticks it into his pocket, planning to dispose of it later. The both of you round the corner to the bus stop, and your feet fall still. A large curse sits in the middle of the road.

Numerous cars are crumpled like drink cans, smoke, and gasoline leaking onto the streets. There’s blood. Too much blood, in fact, that they seem like puddles of rain on the dark tarmac. Your juice box drops from your hand.

The curse turns to you, its teeth split vertically down the centre of what constitutes a face. Multiple eyes run down the length of its engorged body where various hands and feet stick out at random parts.

“Blood… Blood…” it moans in a cryptic voice.

Nanami stands with his feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide in horror. His knuckles turn white as he grips his school bag. Run, run, run! He screams internally, but his limbs don’t listen to him. The curse slides over the road towards him, slipping through the blood easily.

“Give me… Your blood…”

A part of the curse’s body bubbles up into a large hand. It swings itself back before throwing its newly created appendage towards Nanami. RUN RUN RUN! His legs don’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the impact. Except that it doesn’t hit him. Nothing hurts, except the shrill scream that pierces his ears. Nanami’s eyes snap open in horror.

“Kento!” you yell, dangling upside down as the curse pulls you towards its mouth.

Your school bag lays on the ground below, books scattered as their pages turn red.

“Run!”

Nanami drops everything as he scrambles towards you, tripping over his own two feet and landing face-first in the blood. His hands and knees sting. He shoves himself and gets up with his teeth clenched. You kick your feet in the air in a poor attempt to escape the curse’s grip but to no avail. Another groan is squeezed out of you as the curse opens its mouth, the foul stench of rotting bodies engulfing you.

“Run, Kento!” you plead.

How can he turn his back on you? Sweat drips down his forehead as Nanami pulls his hand back. The adrenaline that rushes through his blood clears in a split-second moment of raw emotion; anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness. A tingling sort of energy floods his body, and Nanami takes a sharp breath of air. He sees something like a ruler — a line divided equally with ten markings, the seventh one crossed out. His fist connects with it.

The curse lets out a weak moan of pain, shaking you around as it recoils from Nanami’s hit. It’s not much, just a surface injury at most. Nanami’s limbs tremble with exertion. One more time, again and again, until you’re safe-

A thick, gross liquid engulfs Nanami as the curse explodes in front of his very eyes. He coughs, running a slimy hand over his face. It smells like death.

“Woah! You put too much into that again, Satoru.”

“Shut up!”

Nanami looks up as he hears footsteps move towards him, the quiet splashing of blood beneath shoes.

“Ugh, this place is so gross.”

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Nanami looks up to find a male with his hair pulled back into a bun staring at him. Behind him is a white-haired teenager with sunglasses (strange, hasn’t the sun already gone down?) and an imposing-looking man.

Where are you?

Nanami glances around frantically amidst the dead bodies that lie on the ground. Not you, not you, not- A tiny sliver of hope slips into his heart when he spots your uniform, and he stumbles over.

“Woah! Slow down!”

He calls out your name, slipping and collapsing onto his knees. Your eyes are closed, and a wound on your head oozes blood. A young girl with short hair reaches out to touch you, but Nanami pulls you into his chest, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

His head spins. Are these good people? How did they just destroy that big monster? He hadn’t even seen them coming. Were they going to hurt you?

“Calm down, man! We’re good guys.”

“No one’s going to trust you when you say that, Satoru.”

The girl stares at Nanami.

“I’ll take care of your injuries. Can you let me see them, please?”

He relaxes. His grip on you loosens, and the girl feels for your pulse, nodding in affirmation.

“Alive.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief. At this realisation, his body begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He digs his nails into his palms but still they quiver. His heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to take a deep breath, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Hey, you okay?”

His eyes fall shut.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami finds out over a hot cup of tea that those monsters are called curses, and not everyone can see them.

“Lucky you!” Gojo chimes in.

Lucky? His face wrinkles in despair and Getou laughs so loud at his reaction that he has to step out of the room.

Nanami had sustained minor injuries — nothing beyond a few scrapes and some trauma. You were fine for the most part. After hitting your head on the ground, you remained unconscious for a few more days after Nanami had woken up. You were covered in a few bruises, but otherwise alright.

Nanami was infinitely thankful for that

Yaga tells him that he has enough aptitude to become a full-fledged sorcerer. The school he teaches at is called Jujutsu High and is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Since he’s in his final year of junior high, why not give it a thought if he wants to join them? Nanami holds Yaga’s name card numbly.

He looks up at Yaga, only one objective clear in his mind. He doesn’t want to see you hurt any longer.

“Will you teach me how to exorcise curses?” he asks.

Gojo laughs outrightly and Geto snorts. Yaga gives him a confident smile, clapping Nanami on the shoulder (he doesn’t quite like that, but he overlooks it for now).

“You can count on that.”

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s a little apprehensive about entering Jujutsu High, especially when you decide to enrol as well. Given the ability to see curses, you were adamant about learning to help others with this ability you were gifted with. He relented and sulked for the rest of the day until you gave him a cup of pudding.

The first day Nanami and you enter Jujutsu Tech, you meet a wide-eyed boy named Haibara Yu. He’s overly optimistic and passionate — precisely the kind of person that Nanami tires of interacting with. In fact, the very first thing Haibara says upon meeting the both of you irritates him.

“Woah! Blondie, are you from an emo band or something? Your hair really matches the vibe!” Haibara had gasped.

You struggled to suppress your giggles, biting on your lower lip as you turned to the side. Nanami, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“No, I’m not. Nice to meet you too,” he replied monotonously.

It takes all of the following month for Nanami to get used to Haibara’s eccentricities. He always does his best during training, mingles enthusiastically with the upperclassmen and chows down on at least two bowls of rice during break time. The most annoying part about him is how Haibara seems to get along so well with you.

You laugh too loudly for Nanami’s liking at his jokes, squeeze in between Haibara and him (brushing shoulders with the both of them! Seriously!) when they’re standing together just to listen in on Haibara’s monologuing, and sometimes even end up sparring with him instead of Nanami.

The blond curses that there is an odd number of first years and peers in the mirror after his shower as he wonders what he would look like with a black bowl cut. He even tries to finish more than one serving of ginger pork on one particular day and gets sent to the school nurse for a tummy ache.

Though, the three of you have chemistry that works out when fighting curses. Nanami is the primary damage dealer of the group, while you learn how to provide support with Haibara and create openings for Nanami to attack. So on your first ‘real group mission’ assigned to you by Yaga, you can’t help but set off with overflowing excitement.

It isn’t often that you have the opportunity to step outside of Jujutsu High on your own without supervision. Even on weekends, you’re usually expected to train or study. The sun shines warmly down upon the streets of Asakusa, and tourists and locals alike swarm the city area.

“Hey! We should totally give Sensou-ji Temple a visit later!” Haibara suggests, pumping his fist in the air.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Nanami sighs.

“That’s what you said the last time we went to Okinawa, and guess what, Nanamin! We didn’t even get to try their sushi!”

“Yeah, and you forgot to bring back souvenirs for me, Ken-chan,” you chime in.

“I told you to stop adding -chan to my name.”

“Why not? Doesn’t it sound cute?”

“Mhm!”

Haibara nods furiously. Nanami ignores the both of you with a sigh. He slings a bag containing his sword over his shoulder once more as the crowd barely makes space for you to move through.

“We can’t take too long,” he relents.

The cheers and high-fives that you and Haibara give each other make a vein bulge on Nanami’s temple. He tries not to read too much into the way you immediately begin discussing what places to visit and eat at with Haibara — didn’t you care for his opinion? He shakes his head and increases his pace, leaving the both of you behind.

Nanami ignores the cries of ‘Ken-chan!’ and ‘Nanamin!’ that ring out through the crowd. Whatever. If you want to be with Haibara, then Nanami will gladly get out of the way for you. He drags his feet on the pavement and settles for a cup of iced tea in a nearby cafe gloomily.

What Nanami is doing is… childish. He knows, at the very least, that he should be happy the both of you have met a nice new friend. But he can’t help the jealousy that rises in his chest like smoke in a chimney when he sees you cling onto Haibara the same way you used to do to him.

Was Haibara nicer, more good-looking, stronger, funnier, gentler, better than every single trait in Nanami combined? You no longer ask Nanami how he slept the previous night, instead running over to Haibara and greeting him cheerily. Forget about how you used to come over to Nanami’s house to study after school — you and Haibara disappear to who knows where after training everyday.

He bites down on his straw. The bitter taste of a lemon seed fills his mouth and Nanami spits it out onto a napkin with more force than necessary. He takes a deep breath. He should make things clear to you, then, and let you know how he feels about you. To him, it sounds a little like love.

Nanami’s face flushes with embarrassment. Love is… Love isn’t this. It definitely isn’t getting jealous over your relationships with other people, nor is it forcing you to accept his feelings out of spite. He finishes the last bit of his iced tea, the straw making a gurgling noise as it fails to suck up any more liquid. He leaves his money by the counter and walks back outside, returning his heart back to its safe, clicking the lock shut once more. His shoulders sag as he lets out a pent-up sigh.

Nanami squints at his phone. The golden sunlight makes it difficult to read his messages, but he manages to pick out four missed calls from you and a hundred text messages from Haibara. His blood runs cold when he scrolls to the last text that he received.

Haibara Yu, 4.25p.m.: curse help 6 cho

It’s currently 4.35p.m. 6-chome is a 15 minutes walk away, five minutes if he sprints fast enough. Nanami hopes that you’re okay, that Haibara has enough sense to call for other back-up or avoid the curse.

Nanami’s feet pound under him as he shoves his way through the crowds, earning distasteful looks and swears. He doesn’t care. Not when you and Haibara are facing a possible grade 2 curse alone, and not when it’s because of Nanami’s irresponsibility and useless emotions that had caused the three of you to be separated.

His breath comes quick and hard and his thighs burn, screaming for relief. He makes a sharp turn and almost crashes into a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angry housewife yells, but her words fall on deaf ears.

Just a little more, he begs.

Nanami hears the fighting before he sees it. The sound of metal meeting metal and the roar of the curse sound uncharacteristically comforting to him as he draws his sword, racing to bear a fighting stance.

But he’s too late.

“Yu!” you cry out as Haibara crumples onto the ground.

His eyes meet Nanami’s. His uniform is tattered, face bearing wounds and his right arm is bent at an unnatural shape, almost like a knotted tree branch. You seem relatively unhurt, although your breathing is laboured.

“Kento,” Haibara wheezes.

Nanami’s feet don’t move. His chest heaves, perspiration pouring down his face and drenching his uniform. The grip on his sword slips ever so slightly. The curse stands at the end of a ruined district. You aren’t trained to fight in such close quarters, or reduce the number of casualties to a bare minimum.

And Nanami hadn’t been here to provide damage to exorcise it.

“Who are you? Another small fry?” the curse scoffs.

It takes the body of a geisha, dressed in luxurious robes that whip about in the air. Consciousness? This isn’t a grade 2 by any means — it’s a special grade curse. The will to fight slips out of Nanami like water from a cup, trickling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

“Haibara!” Nanami shouts.

The male gives Nanami one last smile from where he is.

“You’ve got it from here,” he whispers, lips barely moving.

The geisha stretches out its hand, a portion of its obi moving along with it. You and Nanami watch in horror as Haibara’s head is neatly decapitated from his body. His blood drips off of the ends of the robes as the curse cackles, his head rolling to a stop as his half-closed eyes stare up at Nanami like a dead fish’s.

“You think you can beat me? Look at your little friend!”

Fury rushes into Nanami like a wave meeting the shore.

“You’ll die here by my hands!” the curse roars.

You take a step back as the geisha prepares to launch another attack, silk sashes drawn back into the sky before they plunge back at you two in an aerial attack. Nanami leaps through the attacks as his body moves faster than he can process it.

You, on the other hand, create a shield out of cursed energy to try and deflect the attacks. At the very least, Haibara deserves a proper burial. There isn’t time for mourning now, and you have to wipe away the tears that pool in your eyes. You try to ignore the way his head rolls closer to your foot and bumps against it gently.

Nanami lets out a yell of anger. His cursed energy swells as he cuts his way through the sashes, movement based on momentum than anything else at this point. His mind is clouded with regret and frustration. Nanami channels his anger into his sword, the ten destined lines appearing before his eyes once more.

The curse lets out a cry of pain as it stumbles back, sashes redrawn as it tries to gauge its wounds. Blood gushes from a slash on its side and Nanami darts forward again — again, again, again, until its dead. His legs, however, are weaker than what he thinks they can bear. Nanami stumbles in his step.

“Ken!” you shout.

The curse grins. It takes little to no time to regenerate, skin overlapping raw flesh as it gets back onto its feet.

“You’re weak,” it taunts. “First your friend, now you. I’ll be sure to savour the last one as well!”

Nanami struggles to get back onto his feet. He gasps, heart ripping a hole through his chest. He’s so exhausted; so worn out, that his arms refuse to raise his sword above chest height. He curses.

You run over to Nanami, grabbing his uniform and dragging him back. The curse starts to chant ominously. Its face turns dark, taking steps that sway its body with thick, lacquered geta. You shove Nanami back as you’re engulfed by its domain, swallowed up by darkness and spit into a tatami room. He barely has time to call your name before you disappear.

“Shit!”

Nanami stumbles back onto his feet, but sinks down onto his knees again. His shoulders quake as he tries to suck in breaths of air, but his throat is too dry. He coughs and adjusts his grip on his sword. Shit, shit, shit. All of his partners tossed themselves at death as if it was an idle thing just to protect him. What was Nanami doing? He would never become a sorcerer like this, never be able to protect you.

He grits his teeth. He’ll never be enough.

Nanami picks up his sword, wrapping his fingers around its hilt one more time. He dashes towards the domain, tasting iron as he hacks and slashes at it. Again, again, and again. His hands turn numb and his cursed energy flickers like a candle’s flame, but there’s one thing Nanami’s insistent on — getting you out of there.

The domain finally collapses as Nanami finally steadies himself on his feet. You roll to the ground, breath shallow. Your uniform is sliced up in different areas and a pool of blood begins to spread where your head meets the floor.

“Ken…?” you whisper.

Nanami smells it — the scent of death. Why did he ever choose to become a sorcerer over an ordinary high school life? He wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess, caused you to be hurt time and time again. Nanami calls out your name tentatively. You don’t respond.

The curse roars with laughter as your eyes fall shut, “Don’t you see how I’m so strong? You’re nothing compared to me-”

Nanami sees red. He launches himself forward, brandishing his sword even if it’s for the last time.

He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards.

Nanami sinks into a pool of blood, head spinning with exertion. Your body lays to his left, Haibara’s head to his right. He collapses to the ground.

☆*: .｡.

When he comes to, Nanami’s eyes struggle to adjust to the white light that floods the room. It smells vaguely like antiseptic. He slowly sits up, body aching with exhaustion with telltale bandages wrapped around most of his exposed limbs.

A drawn curtain separates his bed from the rest of the room, which he assumes to be Jujutsu Tech’s sickbay. He runs a hand over his face and lies back down, letting sleep take him by the hand and lead him a step further from reality.

Nanami wakes up a second time when Shouko returns to the room. He stares at her, blinking once, then twice.

“Nanami?” she asks softly. “Can you hear me?”

He tries to reply, but his throat is parched. He ends up coughing, wrinkling his face as pain spreads through his ribs. Shouko rushes to get him a glass of water and calls the rest (namely Yaga and Gojo) over. Nanami nurses the glass as Yaga takes a seat by his bed.

There are no questions, only condolences and murmured explanations of what had happened. The only thing Nanami picks up is that you’re alive. That’s more than enough for him to relax, nodding dumbly along to Yaga’s words.

The curse had been on the brink of death when Nanami collapsed. However, he had put up enough of a fight for nearby sorcerers to come to his aid and finish it off. There was no doubt about it — it was a special grade curse. Yaga apologises for the miscommunication and loss of Haibara’s life. Nanami doesn’t reply.

No amount of apologies could turn back time and bring Haibara back.

It takes him a few more days before Nanami’s able to hobble around the school, aided by crutches. Gojo pokes fun at how he seems like a grandpa but even his jokes don’t bear the mean edge they usually do. Getou leaves a can of vending machine coffee by his bedside table and Shouko brings him some wildflowers. Nanami leaves the plush cat Yaga had made for him untouched.

Nanami struggles against the nightmares that plague him. In one Haibara cradles his decapitated head in his own arms, asking Nanami why he hadn’t saved his life; in another you die, guts spilling onto the streets with your eyes bulging from your skull. Nanami wakes up in cold sweat. He calms his breathing alone and doesn’t sleep a single wink.

It’s a rainy day when Shouko lets him enter the morgue. Haibara’s body is laid in a shroud of white, his head positioned to appear attached. Had he ever been so pale? Nanami’s fingers grip his crutches, gritting his teeth.

How long his eyelashes had been! A small scar runs down his left temple (“After my sister shoved me in the playground!” Haibara had chirped), and his bangs remain as perfectly cut as they had been when he died. Nanami half expects him to sit up, to grin and laugh at his twisted face.

“Why’re you so stiff, Nanami? It’s just a joke!”

Justajokejustajokejustajoke.

A chasm opens up in Nanami’s stomach. His crutches clatter to the floor as he races out of the morgue, stumbling when pain shoots up his right leg. He retches dryly and tears pool in his eyes. Shouko silently covers Haibara and closes the door, Nanami’s tears falling alongside the pouring rain.

That night in his dreams, Haibara slices Nanami’s head off. He wakes up with his heart racing and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Nanami visits you the next day. He had been reluctant to do so — what if you blamed him for everything, for Haibara’s death and your injuries? He wouldn’t be able to bear it, to be hated by you. His hand hovers over your dorm doorknob, hesitating. Nanami takes a deep breath as he swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

You sit on your bed, neatly tucked under the covers with a book sitting on your lap. Warm sunshine pours through the open windows and the penguin plush Nanami had won for you at a festival still sits by your desk. You look up when he walks in.

Nanami calls out your name. You stare at him.

“Sorry, but… Who are you?” you ask quietly, a sense of confusion lacing your words.

He stops by the door and Nanami’s heart sinks to his feet.

“I’m Kento. Nanami Kento,” he repeats, words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Checkered curtains flutter in the wind and the pages of your book butterfly open to an unread chapter. You keep your eyes focused on Nanami, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you reply.

☆*: .｡.

A toxic mix of trauma and a severe head injury had caused your amnesia. Nanami lays in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. If only he hadn’t let his emotions overtake him, if only he had been there a minute earlier, if only if only if only. Regret dulls his sense of taste and emotions. He no longer takes joy in eating anything (even those croissants Getou had bought while out on a mission), nor does he even crack a smile at Gojo’s antics.

Nanami returns to training once he is physically well again. He becomes the only first-year to attend Yaga’s classes, sparring practice conducted with the second years. He goes out on missions alone and learns to provide both defense and offense for himself. Nanami trains, he exercises curses, he returns to school. He repeats this same cycle mindlessly over and over again.

Time heals, they say. Nanami wonders how much time it must take for him to let go of everything.

Nanami learns to hide his disappointment. His face becomes a strong facade for whatever his weak heart truly feels. The quiet sigh he lets out when no one’s around, the stretching of his neck after yet another fruitless day of training — Nanami decides that he’ll leave the world of sorcery once he’s graduated.

Seasons change and Nanami becomes a second year, then a third year. Getou falls away. The seniors graduate and new freshmen enter the school. Nanami keeps these things in the back of his mind as he raises his sword for a countless time, striking the training doll with ease.

You work with Shouko in the infirmary, occasionally helping out with office work. The school had deemed it better to keep you under their care than to release you outside. Like a rehabilitated animal, Nanami thinks.

You still remember no memories of him. Nanami brings you sweets and souvenirs from his missions, letting you trace your fingers over the fancy packaging with a sparkle in your eye. At this, Nanami swallows back his confession of love once more. He can’t bear to burden you with his feelings.

You form new impressions of him. Nanami turns into the stone-faced and adorable boy who treats you like fine China, always sticking his hands out awkwardly when he tries to give you something. The tips of his ears burn red when he lies — especially when you ask him, “Nanami, did you buy this for me?” and he shakes his head furiously.

You think he’s kind. He comforts you when you cry over lost memories, unable to remember the faces in photographs that had once been so familiar. The first thing Nanami does after returning from a mission is to rush to you. Were you okay? Did you have your meals? One time, he came over without getting his injuries checked and collapsed by your feet. You scolded him after that, tenderly dressing his wounds.

“Nanami!” you said crossly, a pout on your face.

He tries to forget how he had asked you to stop calling him ‘Ken-chan’. He ducks his head, hissing when you douse his skin in antiseptic.

Some things don’t change, though. You still keep your pencil box immaculately neat — the tips of your stationery always pointing to the right side. Though you don’t have any more movie ticket stubs, you carefully clip the pictures of your childhood Nanami had given to you together and keep them under your pillow.

One day, you munch on a yummy biscuit Nanami brought back for you. He sits on the floor and polishes his sword, peering at it from every angle to make sure it’s evenly oiled.

“Nanami?”

He hums.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re from an emo boy band? Your hair matches it.”

Your shy laugh rings out in the room as bile rises in Nanami’s throat. He sheathes his sword and lays it on the ground.

“Yes, they have.”

He struggles to smile, his gut twisting.

☆*: .｡.

On graduation day, no one else but Nanami receives his certificate with a flower corsage pinned to his chest. The room is empty save for him and Yaga, the chirping of spring birds breaking the silence.

“I’m glad to have been able to teach you, Nanami,” Yaga broods. “You’ve grown a lot.”

Nanami does not reply. He bows deeply and strides out of the main building. All of a sudden, the traditional architecture and nature that surround Jujutsu High seems stifling. His skin crawls with the urge to leave as soon as possible.

“Nanamin!”

He jumps. Turning around, he finds you grinning happily with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” you chirp.

Nanami accepts the flowers awkwardly and rests them in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching his certificate. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees and a wave of sakura petals descend from their branches like rain.

“Nanamin,” your voice grows softer. “Are you leaving forever?”

He swallows, then nods wordlessly.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I wanna be with you forever, Ken-chan!” you wailed.

“Forever’s a long time,” Nanami replied.

He handed you his yellow cotton handkerchief, face wrinkling when you honked your nose into it. Gross. His neck hurt from sticking it out of the car window. He can hear his father tapping a finger onto the wheel impatiently, his mother silent as she stares out the front.

“B-but!”

Your bottom lip quivered and Nanami let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Really, Ken-chan? Forever?”

“Yeah, really. Forever.”

You grinned in the waning sunlight as your mother tugged you away.

“I’ll never forget you, Ken-chan!” you shouted.

The car window rolled up and he watched you disappear into the horizon, turning as tiny as an ant.

Nanami swallows his heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Probably.”

“That’s not a definitive answer, Nanamin.”

“What do you want me to tell you, then?”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice. The plastic wrapping of the flowers crinkle under his grip and waves of emotions rush over him; the biggest out of all of them regret. He struggles to breathe underwater, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and nose plugged up. A sakura petal lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t bother brushing it away.

“Say,” you whisper, taking a step to close the distance between Nanami and you.

He gulps as you place a hand upon his chest. He can feel the heat of your skin through his uniform and Nanami’s too dumbstruck to respond.

“Why don’t you give me your second button?”

Your eyes meet his. A smile toys with the corners of his lips and suddenly Nanami blurts out a nervous “Okay.”. His mind flickers back to Haibara momentarily; how you had appeared to like him so much back then. But he chooses to shove those memories into the back of his mind once more as you produce a small pair of scissors and snip the thread.

“You always take care of me, Nanamin. It was natural of me to fall in love with you,” you breathe, cradling the swirl patterned button in your hands.

A gust of cool air slips into his unbuttoned shirt and Nanami’s breath hitches.

“Do you like me too?”

Your question is innocent. With the way you peer up at him, there’s no way that Nanami can lie. Your glittery eyes were the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He wonders if he still loves you in the same way as he did then; as faultless and innocent it had been. His heart sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you smile, an evident sigh of relief escaping your lips. You slip the button into your pocket before tugging Nanami even closer towards you. He yelps as your chest presses against his and the tips of his ears turn red.

You plant your lips by the side of his.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fic #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #nanami kento fic #nanami x reader #nanami angst #nanami fluff #nanami fic #jjk nanami #jjkmagsummer

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mha-princess · 4 years

Text

Crossing Lines - Part 2/3 [Bakugou x Fem!Reader]

part one is here | part three is here

Genre: Angst | 18+ | College AU | Ongoing |

A/N: The next part will most likely be the last part, as I don’t want to draw this out to the point where it’s annoying (⁍̴̆◡⁍̴̆ )⊃♡- Anako

Word Count: 2.5k+

Warnings: bakugous an asshole/very minor violence/explicit language / mentions of sex

Summary: falling for Katsuki and keeping it a secret was easy, but still being secretly in love with him after developing a friends with benefits relationship is hard.

Masterlist | Request Rules | Request Box

“Wait how long has this been going on ?” Mina questioned shoving bits of bagel into her mouth.

“ A month....... maybe five.” You shrug standing up to throw your plate away. You had invited Mina over for breakfast to talk about what had happened last night between you and Bakugou.

“So you’ve been hooking up with Bakugou for that long? I didn’t even notice, well no one noticed, not me, not Kami, not Kiri. Speaking of Kami and Kiri, where are they? I thought you invited them?”

“I did. They can’t just walk down a flight of stairs to get here, not everyone lives off campus.” You giggle at her unawareness and sit back down at the kitchen table. Mina nods.

“So what did you say her name was.” Mina questions, It takes you a minute to recall.

“Hayami?” You say slightly uncertain.

“Hayami? Yeah that definitely doesn’t ring a bell.” A few minutes late you and Mina are startled by the slam of your door.

“Hey, Hey, Hey.” Kirishima announces happily strolling over to the kitchen table and taking a seat, Kaminari following behind him.

“Ejiro how the hell did you just get in here?” Kirishima laughs and holds up a key.

“Bakubro said he stopped by and he accidentally grabbed this when he left.” He said tossing you the key. “So how are my favorite beauticools doing today?”

“Not good we need help with something.” Mina says taking her phone from her pocket.

“If it’s anything about classes we can’t help.” Kaminari says taking Minas bagel and finishing it.

“It has nothing to do with classes, as if we’d ask you two himbos for help.” Mina rolls her eyes. “Do you guys know a girl named, Hayami?”

Kirishima furrows his brow. “Hayami? I don’t think I ever even heard of the name.”

You turn to Kaminari who also has his phone out.

“What about you, Nari?”

“One moment.” He walks over to Kirishima and hands him his phone, leaving you and Mina to stare at eachother.

“Ohhhhhh Hayami! I do remember her! We met her the night me, Kami, and Bakugou crashed the arcade.” Kirishima facepalms. “She gave us her number but I don’t think any of us ever reached out.”

Mina scoffs. “Someone did.”

Kaminari and Kirishima looks at you both confused.

“Come again?” Kaminari says setting his phone on the table.

“Yeah? Is there something we’re not in on? Why are you worried about her out of all people?” Kirishima questions leaning forward in his chair.

Mina then explains to them your situation. Kaminari and Kirishima look at eachother in shock.

“Y/N! That’s like rule number one of friends with benefits! You don’t question outside affairs!” Kaminari groans.

“I know! But I love him Kaminari and I need to know if there’s someone else. I still have hope. Hope that he might like me. ” You say pain evident in your voice.

“Well if it’s any help I think I have her Instagram.” He says taking pity on you and opening Instagram. After finding it he quickly flips his phone face down.

“On second thought maybe that’s not a good idea.” He laughs nervously causing everyone at the table to look at him confused.

“Kaminari let me see your phone.” Kirishima says, standing up from the table. Kaminari quickly grabs his phone.

“I don’t think that a good idea, really.” He says slowly backing away as Kirishima grew closer.

Kirishima lunges at him and in an instant Kaminari is pinned to the ground.

“Y/N, catch.” He chunks the phone to you. Your hands easily grasping it from the air. Mina comes over, peeking over your shoulder and immediately she sighs, yeah this was a bad idea.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“Maybe it’s not what it looks like?” She says, blatantly ignoring the facts. Your eyes begin to burn.

Kirishima releases Kaminari from his hold and they walk over to you.

“He doesn’t even go to the cafe with us. He says it makes him look stupid to be in such a soft setting. But there he is with a girl. I mean she looks like his type. Cute button nose, black hair, brown eyes.” You clench your jaw, forcing back tears.

“Y/N don’t be like that! Your Bakugou’s type or else he-.” You cut Kaminari off mid sentence.

“If I was his type he wouldn’t be with her.” Tears streak down your cheeks and leave wet stains on the table. After a minute you get up from the table and grab a napkin to wipe your eyes.

“I’m sorry guys. I’m not his girlfriend I shouldn’t be upset.” Your friend come to your aid and crowd around you, engulfing you in a big hug.

“Don’t apologize for the way you feel babe.” Mina says.

“Yeah Y/N you have feelings. That’s only human.” Kirishima’s hold on you tightens a bit.

“And we’re always here.” Kaminari adds. After a few minutes of letting you bask in your sadness, they release you form their hold.

“Sorry for the hold up guys, but we need to get to class.” You chuckle and wipe the remaining tears from under your eyes.

“Yeah Mrs.Chu is always on me and Mina’s case about attendance.” Kaminari rolls his eyes at the thought of that lady.

“Soooo am I drivi-.”

“NO!” You all cut off Mina before she can finish. Today had all ready started off bad, and endangering your life with Mina reckless driving was the last thing you needed.

“I’ll drive.” Kirishima says grabbing his keys and opening the door. “Now come children, before we’re late.”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

The day couldn’t possible go by more slowly. You couldn’t remain focused due to your situation, the situation that you started I must stress. You know it shouldn’t be pestering you, but you just couldn’t handle losing Katsuki to some random girl.

From the beginning you found yourself drawn to Katsuki. Yeah that might sound cliche, but it was the truth. The ash blonde hair that was slightly unkempt, the red eyes that could cut deep even if you were just glancing, and a smirk that held so many inaudible warnings. He was unruly, but at the same time beautiful.His personality was arrogant and short tempered, but that just made him all the more alluring.

The unapproachable heart throb is what he was. Pretty in the face, but dementing and vulgar in many different ways. Ways that should've been a warning, but weren't.

When you first started hanging around Katsuki it was mostly kirishima's doing. He felt that all his friends should at least be formally aquantainted with one another, so some days you would have study sessions at your apartmet other days you would all would crash at the dorms. And every moment you were around Katsuki the more you were drawn to him.

One day Kirishima had left you two alone at the dorms to go re-up on snacks with Mina and Kaminari. Now this was most likely the only time you would be alone with Katsuki, so you took it upon yourself to ask him a couple of ‘questions’.

“Katsuki?”

“What?” he answers his eyes never leaving his phone.

The top half of his body hangs off the edge of his bed, his shirt barely covering his stomach.You go over and sit on the floor in front of him. Slowly, you reach up and run your hands through his coarse head of hair.

“The hell are you doing?” He questions, but doesn’t stop you from playing in his head.

“Can I ask you something.” The tone of your voice was soft but serious.

Bakugou then rolls over onto his stomach and throws his phone into the abyss of sheets beside him. He stares at you and the nervous you should’ve felt earlier makes it’s way into your body.

“You gonna speak or what?” He says annoyance leaking from his voice. You roll your eyes.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.” He responded rolling back over and grabbing his phone.

“Like you’ve never had one? No boyfriends, no girlfriends, no significant others?”

“I answered the damn question, no boyfriends, no girlfriends, nothing, relationships aren’t my kinda thing. The hell are you asking me this for anyway? ” He rolls back over, his eyes cutting deep into your thoughts.

“W-What about hookups?” Bakugou’s face goes blank for a minute before that cocky smirk makes its way to his face.

“Tcht is this what you were going on about? If you wanted some dick you couldve just said that.” His smirk grows as he watches you panic.

“We can hookup if that’s what you wanted to ask. But I have lines that shouldn’t be crossed.” He says rolling back over and chucking you his phone.

“Put your number in.” That cocky son of a bitch, not even letting you answer or explain yourself. I mean it’s not like you would’ve said no anyway. You hand him his phone back.

“Y/N wants to be fuck buddies with me? I didn’t peg you as the type.” He grins, his eyes burning right through you.

“Well you said you aren’t looking for a relationship, so I don’t see the harm in it.” You shrug. Bakugou nods in agreement, but raises a brow.

“I know I said I’m down but we can’t do any lovey dovey shit. This has to be strictly no feelings attached.”

Now, after he finished that statement a bell should’ve went off in your head. From that point you should’ve know that liking Katsuki wasn’t a good idea and hooking up with him would only lead to you hurting yourself, but clearly you were blinded. Blinded by the thought of him and blinded by the want of him because if you would’ve noticed you wouldn’t of still been sitting at your desk half dazed ten minutes after class had let out reminiscing about how you got yourself into this mess.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to leave, clearly your not staying behind for extra help, as you didn’t even write down the notes that were on the board.” You look down at your notebook, yeah it’s blank.

“I’m so sorry Mrs, I’ve had a lot on my Min-.”

“I don’t need your excuses, just get going so I can lock up.” You nod and grab your things. Upon picking up your phone you notice a message from Kirishima.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Message

Kirishima :)

Ummmm please don’t bite my head off for this but something came up and I had to leave early, Mina and Kaminari have dance practice and I didn’t want you to be stranded.............. So Bakugou is going to take you home, be at the front of the school. Ok? Ok. Love you ttyl 😘

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Your mouth hung ajar at the message. Why? Kirishima why? Why would he set you up for failure like that? You sigh as you walk out of the school doors.

It took a few minutes before Bakugou arrived and when he did your day only worsened. As you drew closer tot he car it was clear that someone else was in he front seat. A black haired, brown eyed someone. With gritted teeth you open the back door of the car and chunk your stuff in not saying a thing.

“Hello!” The girl exclaims as she turns around in her seat, sounding way to preppy and happy about this situation.

“You are?” You say not the least optimistic, Bakugou glaring at you from the rear view mirror.

“I’m Hayami.” She smiles and holds out your hand for you to shake. You turn and look out the backseat window.

“What are you his girlfriend?” Your jaw clenches as her face goes red. You stop her before she can answer that question.

“Katsuki can you drive? I have somewhere I need to be.” Hayami turns around in her seat as Bakugou mashes the gas.

The drive is silent until Bakugou starts taking a bunch of unfamiliar turns.

“What are you doing my house isn’t this way?” You say sitting up in your seat.

“I’m dropping Hayami off first.” He says pulling into an unfamiliar driveway.

“Thank you Katsuki. We should do this the same time next week.” She smiles and he nods in approval. She then steps out of the car and shuts the door. He sits there for a minute.

“Are you going to get in the front seat or stay back there like a dumbass.” You roll your eyes.

“Fuck you.”

Bakugou quickly puts the car in reverse and once again begins taking a bunch of unknown turns.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” He doesn’t say anything, but a few minutes later you find yourself in a vacant parking lot. He then gets out and climbs into the backseat.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He says shutting the door.

“I’m not the one with the damn problem.” You cross your arms and look away from him.

Annoyed with the way you were acting his hand grabs a hold of your cheeks, pressing your mouth inward as his lips ghost over your ear.

“Your a fucking brat.” You pry his hands from your face.

“I’m not a brat your a fucking asshole. Breaking your own damn rules. Did you tell your little girlfriend how the night before you took her on a date you were just at my house fucking me? Or did you tell her how many times you ate my pussy in that front passenger seat? I bet she doesn’t know anything about that now does she?” Your voice bitter and slightly heavy.

“I’m not fucking her, unlike you she has the potential to be more than a fuck toy.” Yeah he shouldn’t of said that. Upon finishing his sentence the palm of your hand quickly made impact with the side of his face, causing a sound that couldve been heard if anyone was near by.

“Take me home.” Your choke as your eyes began to burn. But he doesn’t move he stares at you still in shock from the hit. This time you push him to make him gain contact with reality again.

“I said take me home!” You shout tears now fully rolling down your face. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s angry.

“Your fucking crazy Y/N. This, whatever the fuck we have going on is over. I don’t need your bullshit ruining what I have going on.” He says getting out of the backseat and back into the front.

The rest of the ride was silent. Bakugou was speeding clearly not wanting to be around you after slapping him senseless. Although you wanted to, you didn’t cry, you’d rather wait to release your tears when you got to the comfort of your home.

He slammed on the breaks as he pulled into tge front of your apartment complex. No words were exchanged. You simply grabbed your things and shut the door behind you. He didn’t apologize, hell he didn’t even look back to make sure you got into your apartment, he just drove off.

When you finally made it to the comfort of your room. A weird sense of pain hit you. It wasn’t the same kind of pain you felt yesterday, it was a unfamiliar pain. A pain so severe it caused your heart to physically hurt from your emotions that were running rampant.

A toy. That’s all you were to him and all you were ever going to be. Frustrated and a sobbing mess you take a piece of paper and a pen and begin to writing.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

People always say it’s better to have loved and to have lost, than to never of loved at all, but what if you’ve lost everything including yourself? What if you loved someone so much that you were willing to give them everything including your body, in exchange for nothing but a few minutes of being close them? Am I pathetic for wanting him to love me? Am I even more pathetic for having ignored the signs? The signs that he was no good for me. Bakugou Katsuki. The epitome of my pain, the epitome of my hurt, but the one I love most. It’s better to have loved and to have lost, than to never of loved at all, but I’ve lost all worth, all self love, and all reason to even try. ─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You fold the tear stained paper and slide it into your desk drawer. You then grab your phone and make a much needed call.

“Yes?”

“Is this Izuku?”

#bakugou x reader #bnha #shoujo #bakugou drabble #bakugou oneshot #ongoing #anime #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijrou #mina ashido #denki kaminari #bakugou headcanons #mha princess #bakugou smut #bakugou angst #angst

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bnha-mha-imagines · 4 years

Note

Omg hi I just found your blog! Could I maybe request Todoroki, Shinso, Bakugo, Denki, Dabi, and Iida’s (separately pls!) reaction to their gf walking around the dorm/league of villains lair in r e a l l y super short shorts and she low key has some cake? Like what the boys would do and how they feel? Haha sorry if this is weird tysm!🥺

Warning: all of these are a little spicy, but Dabi and Iida’s have spice on a whole other level so they’re under the tab. like… there’s that lol.

Also, in recent news, the more I write Shinsou the more I’m in love with him holy SHIT he might have jumped to #2 on my favorite list dang

___

Todoroki:

He’s just chilling in the common room couch writing an essay when you walk by to pick up your mail from your po box

He turns his head as you walk by when he looks up his eye level is right in line with your ass. It definitely surprises him, and it's all he can do to stare as you walk to your mailbox

He’s practically drooling when you bend down to insert your key, the shorts riding up a little too high. He averts his gaze right away, his eyes burning holes into his laptop.

His head is buzzing with the image of you in his mind, and his ice quirk is working overtime to cool down his temperature. Tips of his ears are definitely a little pink, but other than that he holds his composure.

He’s listening to your keys jingle as you get your mail and re-lock the po box.

You’re hardly paying attention to him, browsing the mail in your hands as you walk by again. You gasp, dropping your keys when you feel a sudden pinch on your behind.

“S-Shoto!”

But when you turn around, he’s typing away at his essay. He looks up at you, blinking. “Yes?” But the smirk on his face tells you everything you need to know.

Shinsou:

You were on your floor, tiptoeing around the kitchen to make some late night snacks. You were already in your pajamas, a baggy shirt and some high rising booty shorts. You weren’t worried about someone seeing you, they were all in their rooms by now anyways.

Shinsou only happened to stumble on you by chance. He was walking upstairs to your room to return a towel he’d borrowed from you earlier that week (he finally washed and folded it).

He was just about to knock on your door when he heard your voice down the hall. Holding the towel under his arm, he casually walks to the common room.

Turning the corner, he opens his mouth to call your name but chokes on his words before he could even make a sound. There you were on your tiptoes, reaching for a high shelf so that your shorts rode up just right.

You jumped, squeaking when you suddenly felt two hands running up your ass as a chest pushes into your back. You’d already guessed who it was by the time their lips were on your neck, gasping. “S-Shinsou, what are you--”

“Shh,” he hushed you, the words tickling your ear. “You can’t tease me like that and expect me to do nothing…”

Bakugo:

He loves your ass. It looks good no matter what. Jeans? Perfect. Yoga pants? Holy hell. Bikini? Only he gets to see that.

So when he’s chilling on the couch playing video games with Kirishima, he practically chokes on his drink when you enter the room in the shortest shorts he’s ever seen in his life.

A few sparks definitely go off, the game remote dropping from his hands to the floor.

“What the hell!?” he’s practically yelling. His face is bright pink, but you’re not sure if it's because he’s angry or flustered. He startles Kirishima, who turns to see what Bakugo is looking at.

But of course Bakugo acts quickly, grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving it so aggressively onto Kirishima’s head that you were certain he was smothering him. “Don’t look at her dumbass!”

Bakugo’s up in a matter of seconds, lifting you up and over his shoulder and hauling you back to your room. “Bakugo, what are you--!?” He shuts you up with a quick, punishing smack to the ass.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” he growls, throwing you onto your bed. “Or are you just that dense?”

Denki:

He’s kinda pervy sometimes so it’s really no surprise when he gets a little handsy with you. Literally no shame either, he’ll 100% pinch your ass in public.

If you’re cuddling on the couch laying across him he’ll drum on your behind. He just really likes your butt.

So when he walks into the dorm room to see you laying on the couch, ass OUT, he takes that as an open invitation.

He walks behind the back of the couch, pausing to make sure you were distracted with your phone, and then gets a handful of bare ass contact. It’s a loud smack and it definitely stings.

You gasp in shock, rolling over to see Denki laughing. “That one was hard!” you pout, an irritated expression already forming. He only has a second to move before you’re climbing over the couch to chase him.

“Denki, get back here, I get to do one back!” But your words are hardly audible over his laughter as he runs.

Dabi:

You’re at the villain’s bar late one night, looking in the cupboards to find some sort of liquor. You couldn’t really sleep, so might as well treat yourself to a drink or two.

Dabi happens to walk in on you right when you’re bent over, looking down in the cabinets for some rum. Your shorts were practically nonexistent, riding up so that your asscheeks were exposed.

He can’t help himself. Not when you’re on full display for him so pretty.

You nearly bump your head on the counter when you feel two hands grip around your hips, pulling you flush against him.

Exhaling sharply, you crane your head back to see Dabi, a sultry expression on his face. His hands were rubbing along the front of your thighs firmly, clearly loving how you felt up on him.

“Dabi, it’s late,” you mumble, standing up only for him to push your top half onto the counter.

“Then we have plenty of privacy,” he reasoned in a low voice, craning his head down to nip at your earlobe with his teeth.

He didn’t care. Did you really expect anything less from him?

Iida:

He gets so conflicted because he’s attracted to you and will have dirty thoughts but he’s adamant about not objectifying you! Iida, dirty thoughts are fine, you’re only human, dude.

Needless to say, you’ve been trying a little harder than usual to get a reaction out of him. You loved that he respected you and thought it was so cute when he was flustered…but sometimes you just wanted him to lose control and kiss you!

He was slippery tho. Anytime you’d do something provocative he’d excuse himself or refuse to look at you. You knew you had to bring out the big guns.

You’d both agreed to study in the dorms together. Iida was early as usual, so he was organizing his notes on the coffee table. When you finally arrive, he looks up to see you in the shortest shorts he’s ever seen. Immediately stiffens up, glasses fogging.

“Oh hey Iida!” you smile ~cheekily~. “Oh how sweet! You saved me a seat.” Promptly dropping your bag on the couch, you make a show of bending down to sit yourself down on his lap.

“(Y-Y/n)!” he cleared his throat, unable to focus on anything else than the way you felt on him. He knew what you were doing and you knew he knew.

He loosens his collar a little, face composing into a serious look. “This is unacceptable behavior.” Your grin falters, eyebrows furrowing. It seems you took the teasing too far. You’re in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off. “No, you need to learn. Bend over my knee.”

That’s more like it!

#todoroki x reader #shinsou x reader #bakugo x reader #dabi x reader #iida x reader #kaminari x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #spice #shoto todoroki #hitoshi shinsou #katsuki bakugo #denki kaminari #denki x reader #iida tenya

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im-in-vin-ci-ble · 3 years

Text

Love Thy Neighbour, Ch. 2

A/N: finally got around to chapter 2!! sorry 4 the delay. also changing this to 2nd person lol

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Rating: E

Warnings: minor smut!! Mark’s still a bit of a perv. some swearing

Summary: Mark is now tasked to give his next door neighbour a tour of the city, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the hot summer day without acting on the tension between you two.

As your family and the Graysons sat around their dining table, Mark tried his best not to make eye contact with you. You could, however, feel his eyes on you every now and again, but he would catch himself if he felt like he was being too obvious.

There were a million things running through Mark’s head at the second, and thoughts were mostly disbelief that you, the girl he saw from across his window, were now sitting across him. He secretly revelled at the sight of your form in that tight top tank — a form he almost familiarized himself with yesterday. His eyes would then move up to your gorgeous face, noticing how you only offered small smiles during the conversation, or how you licked your lips when you were asked question.

“I’m still trying to get used to the weather,” you told Debbie and Nolan, who asked you if you were adjusting well. “I didn’t know it could get so hot in the city,” you added, subtly emphasizing on “hot” just to get a reaction from Mark who just could not sit still.

During the conversation, the Graysons found out that your mom was a doctor and your dad was a nurse — an explanation as to why they were barely at home. Mark also excitingly found out that you’ll be attending the same school and the same grade in the fall, and that you haven’t had the chance to explore the city because your parents were so busy at the hospital.

“Mark has some free days while he’s on break,” Nolan said, turning his attention to his son. “I’m sure you can show Y/N around, right?”

Snapping out of the trance you unintentionally put him in, Mark sat up and mumbled a soft “Huh?” in return.

“I said you can show Y/N around the city on your free days this summer,” Nolan repeated.

“That sounds like a great offer, Mr. Grayson,” you began, “but I wouldn’t want to impose.” You looked over at Mark who was slowly turning red and added, “I don’t want to ruin your plans with your friends.”

“No plans!” he quickly replied in a high-pitched voice before clearing his throat. He continued, “I mean... I don’t really have... a lot of plans this summer. I can— I can definitely give you a tour.”

“There you go, honey, now you don’t have to wait around for us,” your dad said. “Thank you Mark, we really appreciate it.”

“For sure,” Mark responded. “I’m actually free tomorrow if... you are,” he told you.

You nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

— — —

While Mark prepared for bed, he happened to look up at what was now his favorite window. He put on a clean white T-shirt and moved closer, waiting to see if you would make an appearance. As the curtains in your room swayed with the gust of wind from your fan, he looked on as you entered your room with the same terrycloth towel from yesterday afternoon. The routine was similar, except he found the courage to keep his eyes open the whole time. Mark watched the silhouette of your bare body walk to one end of the room then the other, before putting on a shirt and underwear and closing your closet. He stepped back as he saw you move closer to your open window, but he wasn’t prepared for what came next — you slightly drew your curtains open and looked straight at him, offering a wink as you shut your window, drew your curtains closed, and turned off your lights.

This sent the teenage boy into a panic of both excitement and anxiety as he thought of what could possibly happen tomorrow. Turning off his lights, he practically crawled over to his bed and laid there for 10 minutes, thinking of whether or not he should bring this up with you tomorrow. Every time he came up with ways to do so, though, his mind drifted off to the sight of your body and the suggestive wink you threw his way. He could feel the blood rush to his body, and even though he felt like it was wrong, he eventually caved in to his own desires. Mark reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a box of tissues and a bottle of lotion, removed his boxer shorts and pumped a handful of lotion on his dominant hand. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and began sloppily working his erection to the thought of you and the thought of what he wants to happen tomorrow. He squirmed as he imagined you under his blanket, his hand holding on to your hair as he guides you up and down. Mark lowly grumbled your name as he quickly finished on his stomach, but the anxiety of tomorrow entered his mind almost immediately.

“I’m so fucked,” he whispered to himself.

— — —

You woke up the next day bright and early, but not bright enough to say goodbye to your parents who had already left for the hospital. You comfortably stretched on your bed and took a look at the sunlight entering your room from one of the windows, determined to make this day interesting for you and Mark.

Once you were ready, you knocked on the Graysons’ front door and were immediately greeted by Mark.

“Hey, hi!” he said excitedly as he closed and locked the door behind him. He let out an awkward chuckle and shoved his hands in his pocket, “You uh... ready?”

“More than ever,” you assured him with a smile as you walked ahead of him and back to your house.

Watching you walk him him to your house absolutely thrilled Mark. Shit, is this it? Are we really doing this? he said to himself. His confidence and teenage libido shot through the roof as you both walked along the paved ground that lead to your home, quietly hyping himself for what was about to come.

He stopped on his tracks and cleared his throat, garnering your attention. “Are we really doing this?” he asked you with a cheeky smile.

You shot him a confused look, “I thought we agreed on this yesterday?”

“I know, I know, I just wanna double check,” he replied, gradually walking closer until he was mere inches away from you, “because we’re only gonna do this if you wanna do this.”

You bit your lower lip and closed the gap between your bodies that were baking in the summer heat. Looking straight into his eyes with sensual motive, you slowly moved your hand down to your shorts and watched as Mark’s eyes grew wide in anticipation. Finally, you fished out a set of keys from your pocket and handed them over to him.

“You drive.”

The exhilarated look on Mark’s face quickly dissipitated as you walked around him and over to the driver’s seat of the sedan parked outside the garage. His eyes, accented by the crossed brows, followed your trail that was now waiting for the car door to open.

“What?” he asked in bewilderment.

“You’re 17 too, so I can assume you drive?” you hit back, waiting for him to press the unlock button on the car key.

He shut his eyes tight and shook his head in an attempt to snap out of it yet again. “I can, yeah,” he answered, “sorry I thought—”

“Thought what?” you cut him off, your eyes playfully teasing him.

Mark let out a sigh of disappointment and shook his head again. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said, making his way to the car and unlocking the doors for you.”

“Great,” you replied, opening the door of the passenger seat. “Let’s get this show on the road,” you said, throwing a wink his way before you entering the sedan.

A slight chuckle, which was almost mixed with a sigh of relief, escaped Mark’s lips as he momentarily stared the car. He nodded to himself and entered the car, but looked at you with a mischievous grin before starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway.

#finally got this up #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #invincible fanfiction #invincible fanfic

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