#and there’s no no NO way he wouldn’t shove it in all of his siblings faces

[inkykeiji]

hello good morning let’s all give him the forehead kisses he deserves ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

[ma1dita]

BABEEE happy birthday!! (i'm so terribly late i'm so sorry) congrats on 23💖

🐥 so i'm having thoughts right now about luke x reader and physical affection. like maybe one of them being touch starved and always craving the other person's touch and the other person noticing it and doing it more? maybe from platonic (i will go down with best friends to lovers) to romantic, i'm just on this brainrot tonight

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x reader

a/n: back from the klerb but here with a classic 4am post 🥂 but the hangxiety wont let me rest until this is out! ill edit this in the morning... or not 😗

wc: 1.1k

—

It’s hard to miss what you’ve never had.

Luke Castellan was never a touchy guy. Sure, he’ll hold a new camper’s hand during welcome tours (especially the little ones who can barely keep up with his long legs; if they’re lucky they get a piggy back ride), and he won’t shy away from a clap on the back when his strategies for capture the flag bring his team to victory (they always do, mind you), and when he feels like it, he’ll even shove Annabeth playfully to show her he adores her (but she packs a punch now that she’s older).

It never really goes past that, and he’s never had to think too hard about it—physical touch.

He’s the one who takes care of others—a part of his nature like it is for Hermes’ cabin to take in unclaimed demigods. But something changed in the months that he’s gotten closer to you. At first, he’d bite his tongue at the way you’re so open to patting his cheek when he does something funny (which he doesn’t try to make a show of, but now…), how you choose to sit so close to him during bonfires that your knees touch (the Apollo kids could be singing about the heavens falling down on them for all he cares but he zeroes in on every word that leaves your lips), and the way you’d lock your fingers with him for a pinky promise after every little thing ‘to make sure it’s real’ (Luke didn’t understand the merit of a pinky promise over whether you could have his dessert for the next week if you took over arts and crafts with the kiddie campers for him; truthfully he’d give it to you anyway). It was unusual for him to have someone comfort him, to show care without a true reason. But he didn’t realize how much more it bothered him now that you wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

Silena and some of the other Aphrodite children had asked you the very defining question of, “Do you like Luke Castellan?” and having never thought of it that way, or being able to put your feelings for him in words instead of fingers in his belt loops or in the muss of his curls—that shit was terrifying!

You spent all Saturday afternoon at the docks with them belly down under the glare of the sun’s rays as they explained to you what the five love languages are. By the end of it, sunburn wasn’t the only reason you felt hot.

“Your love language is physical touch,” one of Silena’s older half-siblings—Connelly, says like he’s explaining that the sky is blue, “And Luke’s not that type of guy! Think he’s more acts of service…”

“Ooh, or words of affirmation….” another one of them muses, but the sound of your heartbeat tunes it all out. Well shit, have you been sending him the wrong signals? Or are there even any signals you want to send him? 

Nevertheless, in the matters of love or even the tiniest whisper of it—maybe there’s no one else you can trust with this stuff besides Cabin 10.

Wrong.

Absolutely wrong. Whatever the hell you’ve been convinced or whatever’s changed since last weekend—Luke just knows he hates it, and he’s angry. He’s angry at how you gasp in surprise every time you brush shoulders during archery practice when you used to let him fix your form, he’s angry at how you’ll squeeze campers’ shoulders to tell them they’re doing a good job carrying the strawberry crates—and all he gets is a mumbled ‘Thanks, Castellan’ when he stacks them up and takes your load.

Luke’s so terribly angry that Travis told him he’s been walking around like a big strawberry, face red and irritated—but not at you. 

He realizes he’s also angry at the fact that he can’t protect you from the onslaught of a rain cloud—or maybe it was the fact that you’re so okay with the rain touching your skin and seeping through your orange shirt like he wishes you’d let him. He’s angry at the way the wind blows your hair into your face and your fingers brush the strands away like he wishes he can. Most of all, Luke Castellan is angry that he didn’t know how good a simple touch could be until he lost it—before he even really got to appreciate yours.

You’re sitting on the opposite end of the row in the amphitheater laughing with your friends and the furrow in his thick brow is a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. Luke doesn’t dare to remember what it’s like before you to be honest—he’d rather give up Elysium instead of having you ignore him like this. He calls your name, a tinge of both anger and desperation until you look over at him, eyelashes kissing your cheeks. The hold you have on him transcends the physical touch of your fingers but he wants, no—needs you next to him.

“C’mere! Why are you so far away?”

Luke hopes it doesn’t sound pathetic, but a crooked grin splits across his face as soon as you make your way over, sitting down and crossing your legs away from him. It’s still too far, even if he can feel your breath on his shoulder.

“Did I do something to make you angry? I…” The words escape his mouth in a jumble—quick wit from his father escaping him, though he knows not to rely on that asshole, god or not. You mutter words that almost escape him too, and he leans in, chasing your hands and putting them in his own until they’re gentle and soft in his lap.

“No, no…. I just… don’t want to push your boundaries. I know you don’t like it when I’m too touchy,” and he thinks his heart clenches a little like how you’re squeezing his hands. Luke shouldn’t feel instant gratification from a subconscious action. He wants to know you mean it with him—that’s what he can’t put into words.

“I….like it when you do.”

You notice the way his fingers tangle tighter with yours, pinkys interlocking with yours. When he lets go, Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders until you’re able to laugh in the crook of his neck. He chooses to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth when your head sways to face him at the silly tune about centaurs and then you realize that Luke loves the way you love him. You wonder if he accidentally missed meeting your lips, but then the noise in your head quiets down when he pulls you closer, lips locking tenderly, intentionally—as they were always meant to.

You both hear a giggle that sounds a lot like tinkling bells belonging to children of Aphrodite. 

For once they were wrong about love. 

Luke’s tongue parts through your lips and meets your own like they’re in a long awaited embrace, dancing and devouring you from the inside out but this, you— are what he can rely on. This, your touch, and how he chooses to let it consume him, never letting go.

[kyseya]

Backstory - farm brothers

So it’s fairly clear that Weston and Lucas are not normal people. Surprise, surprise they’re killers. I wanted to have a little Texas chainsaw massacre slasher vibe but don’t know if that worked very well.

Basically they lure(or people just end up there by themselves) folk to their farm and kill them. Though there are instances where they let some walk away without a scratch, but that’s only if they’re needed, will definitely be missed and could potentially be traced back there, and haven’t the slightest clue what’s truly going on at the farm. The Callaghan brothers can’t have anyone running their mouth, you know.

Their parents were pieces of shit and only had kids to lessen the work load. The farm belonged to their fathers side of the family. their mother had never planned to marry their father but an unexpected pregnancy and pressure from others made them stay together. The two of them were miserable with each other, always fighting and blaming the other partner. The mother was mostly mad about having to spend the rest of her days on a ‘dirty farm’ and work. The father hated being married to a vile, selfish woman who barely helped with anything. His own parents were old and his siblings had quickly moved far away to prevent having anything to do with the farm, which meant everything landed on him.

It was the mother who began using her son as a helping tool. Tasks like sweeping, feeding the animals, collecting the eggs and cooking simple meals were passed to him. At first, when Weston’s dad found out he was furious. But not because it came at Weston’s expense, no, it was because he saw it as a sign of ultimate laziness.

The earliest memories Weston has is of his parents fighting over him. He remembers when his father would reprimand his mother about using him to do her labour(he wanted her to suffer the same tiring days he does) while she screamed back. But then it stopped and his father would no longer complain. Nearly a year after that his little brother was born, and of course he became the one taking care of him after he didn’t have to nurse anymore.

Lucas followed his older brother everywhere. He was his second shadow when he went around and did his chores. It was fine with weston, he wouldn’t admit it but it became a comfort knowing he was a hero to someone. It made life easier. Unfortunately their parents wanted to put Lucas to work too, the moment they considered him old enough. That wasn’t the worst part though. Their mood soured significantly over the years and they verbally abused them on a daily basis, a couple shoves and blows were hard to avoid. You’d think they’d be happier with the easier load.

Weston would have been able to take it ifd only been him, but seeing his younger sibling being treated as dirt too, that wouldn’t fly. The hatred grew stronger each day. When it had boiled over the edge, the older one had decided on a plan. They would kill their parents. Sadly, they were too young at the moment, there was no way they’d be able to overpower two adults as they currently were. They would have to wait until they were older. And so they did. Years they waited for the right opportunity. The abuse and work never stopped, in fact, the older they got the more take they had to preform. Eventually everything was done by them and nothing was done by their parents. They finally got what they wanted, total freedom from the harsh farm life.

The day Weston told Lucas the plan to kill their parents, he had expected a little pushback from him, but he was surprised when Lucas was totally in on it. One might say he was even excited.

It was really easy to murder them. You just had to corner each one when they were alone and then slice their neck. The kids had far outgrown the adults, they were no match for them anymore.

After their mother and fathers death the brothers took over the farm. Despite all the bad memories they still liked it there. It was rather peaceful(especially when no one criticised you on how to feed the pigs), plus, they didn’t have much of an education beyond reading and writing. Where would they even go? At least on the farm they had food and shelter.

The killing didn’t stop though. It appeared the first murder had awakened something in the both of them. They both had found out they enjoyed it. The power and pleasure in seeing their parents fear stricken faces was too good of a high not to experience again.

Although, they might make one exception to the killing if you’re cute enough~

[writersdrug]

The Good Friend

Chapter 2. Favoritism

Summary: Johnny discovers his purpose in Ghost's experiment.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, stalking, suffocation, mentions of blood, drugging, psychotic behavior, obsessive behavior. Do not read if you are sensitive to these topics.

It was the lack of control – the lack of having a life in his hands, the lack of having someone beg for their soul. Ghost had gone almost two months without hearing it. That was Johnny’s reasoning for his behavior.

Ghost believed he had saved you – that’s what he said to Johnny. He rescued you from that dingy, roach-infested flat; the sleazebag neighbor would have snatched you up if Ghost didn’t get there first. Your job was draining, the turnover rate so high you were constantly picking up slack. Father dead, mother remarried and living in a different country, and no siblings. Your friends were your coworkers, who didn’t care about you when you were clocked out – and the bartender in the local pub you frequented, but he certainly wouldn’t miss you (he called you an under-tipper, however untrue it was).

So, he did the reasonable thing: he shoved his way into your flat while you were in the shower, sobbing about the stress of your job and your pitiful, little life (you really are a crybaby, aren’t you?). Waited patiently in the front closet as you tried to cheer yourself up, lighting that sickly-sweet candle, pouring a glass of wine, and settling on the couch with a copy of “Animal Farm”. Was nearly going to change his plans and pounce on you then and there, until you finally put the book down and placed your glass in the kitchen, padding back towards your room with a weary face.

You didn’t wake easily. It had taken almost a minute of Simon plugging your nose and mouth with his thick fingers before you started flailing. A knee to your pelvis did a good job at keeping you still, and it wasn’t much longer before you were out like a light again. It was easy to carry you to the truck, still wrapped in your blanket, looking all peaceful and dreamy, besides the tears on your cheeks (that made you look sexy, in Ghost’s opinion). And don’t worry, he made sure to grab some of your things for the long run. He’s willing to keep some knickknacks of your previous life if it helps you settle into your new one.

Johnny listened to each word Ghost said, filtering out your screams as he had stitched you up. Now he was processing it – his lieutenant had kidnapped a civilian.

He’s still kneeling in front of you, head in your lap as he battles with himself. He had to stitch you up – it wasn’t even the wrong thing to do. Either you would have bled out, or Ghost would have killed you himself. You should have been taken to the hospital, but Ghost wasn’t having it. Soap had to shush and beg you to stop crying as he patched your headwound – “stop cryin’, Bonnie, please? It’ll be over soon, you’ll be right as rain, I promise ye. Know it hurts ye, but I cannae have ye bleedin’ all over yerself, aye?” – now that you’re not dripping blood onto your lap, he’s got his head there, trying to catch up with his hammering heart.

“Come n’ wash your hands, Johnny.” Ghost calls from the kitchen.

Soap lifts his head; you’re still crying, much less now that there’s not a needle tugging at the skin of your forehead, but you’re still choking on your tears. You look down at him, your lip trembling as you suck in a breath.

“Please don’t go-“ you sob, looking down at him with earnest. Your voice is hoarse from crying – the fight is nearly drained out of you. “Please… he’s going to kill me-“

“He’ll nae kill you.” Soap says, gently grabbing the sides of your face. “I won’t let ‘im. I’m goin’ to clean up myself, then I’m gettin’ ye a towel and a glass o’ water, how’s tha’ sound?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, already up and in the kitchen when you protest with a whine. Johnny wants to be the saint here, keeping both you and his friend safe and out of trouble (as much as he’s able). There’s just one problem, something that has him feeling the weight of shame in his gut – you’re so pretty when you’re crying, fat globs of tears spilling down your cheeks as you look at Soap with recognition and familiarity. You think of him as your savior, just waiting for the perfect, opportune moment to snatch you up and carry you to safety. Admittedly, he hasn’t thought of an escape plan yet; he hasn’t had a moment to think about it, but he hasn’t tried, either. He’s not a monster, he’s just… not ready to be the hero.

“She’s warmin’ up to ya.” Ghost says, leaning against the counter as Soap washes his hands of your blood. “Already callin’ out to ya for help.”

Soap takes the moment to try and redeem himself. “She’s in pain.” He states bluntly, not meeting Ghost’s stare.

“I’ve got somethin’ for it. Might help ‘er finally sleep, too. She kept complainin’ ‘bout the basement bein’ too cold n’ dark-“

God, of course he keeps you in the basement.

“I dinnae want any part o’ this. Ghost.” Soap finally snaps, flicking his hands to get rid of the water. “That poor girl should nae be ‘ere. Ye need help, man.”

Ghost smirks. “’Course I need help – n’ you just helped me earlier. How can you say ya don’t want any part of this, when ya just helped stitch ‘er up?”

“Ye said ye’d kill ‘er!”

“You still could’ve left, Johnny.”

Soap huffs angrily. “Feck off. I’m not doin’ this, LT.”

Ghost glares at him for another moment, then scoffs. He grabs his Percocet prescription off of the counter and leaves the kitchen, shoulders tense with ire. Soap sighs, rubbing his hands on his thighs. He opens up the refrigerator and pours a cup of water from the pitcher within.

He needs to think. If he takes you out whenever Ghost isn’t watching – if such a moment ever were to happen, considering the way the lieutenant guards you like a hawk – and if he brought you to the hospital, or even just set you free… Ghost’s life would be over. He’d go to prison. At this point, Johnny might also – he was only trying to save your life when he had stitched you up, but that alone shows participation. He didn’t call the police right away, which would have been the right thing to do. He can’t even call Price, which is who he usually goes to when he needs to complain about him. He wouldn’t risk Simon’s freedom – he wouldn’t risk letting him get too far beyond his reach. He needs him.

He hears you gurgling and gagging in the dining room: he spins around to see Ghost, holding you by a fistful of your hair, two of his thick fingers shoved down your throat.

“Simon!” Johnny barks.

“Swallow.” Ghost commands, looking down at you with a cold glare. You sputter and choke around his fingers, until your lips seal over them and your throat bobs.

Soap rushes over in an instant and pushes Ghost back. He smacks the glass full of water onto the table. Ghost caps the lid to his prescription pills and stuffs it in his sweatshirt pocket.

“Feck is wrong wit ye, feckin’ bampot?!” Soap growls. “How many did ye give ‘er?!”

“Jus’ a few.” Ghost mutters, staring at Johnny. His eyes display authority, as if he’s giving him an order.

Finally, Soap gets it. He understands. Why Simon bothered to get him involved in the first place, what exactly he’s trying to get Johnny involved with – he’s the mediator. You’re the experiment, Ghost is the figurehead, and Johnny’s the one trying to make sure you don’t perish in the process. He’s the comfort shield, the one you’ll deflect to when Ghost is being too rough. Place a source of comfort in the cage, and you’re bound to reach for it when escape isn’t an option.

Soap is seething with anger – he didn’t want this. He was furious that Ghost had roped him into such a fucked up situation – but he hates that he can get himself out, but he won’t. Not at the lieutenant’s expense. Unfortunately for Johnny, Ghost knows that his sergeant’s loyalty is solid and strong, and he’s using it to his advantage.

Soap growls, staring daggers into Ghost’s own, smug expression. He then turns to you, cupping the back of your head. “’S alright, Bonnie- jus’ tilt yer head back, got some water fer ya-“

You sob, though you offer no resistance when he touches you. “What did he give me?!” you cry, fear and resignation written across your face. You’re steadily becoming more and more tired, too exhausted to put up a fight anymore, but you know to ask the important questions.

“Jus’ some pain killers.” Johnny replies quickly, offering a tight-lipped smile. He nudges the glass against your lips, and you instinctively part them to drink in the water. “Gonna make yer head feel better. Cannae have ye sufferin’, aye?” The words are sour coming out of his mouth, but this is what he has to do. He’s the buffer between you and Simon, balancing his lieutenant’s damage and your wrecked emotions.

Ghost hums in approval when you gulp down the water. Your eyes flit to him at the sound reverberating through his chest, but you’re decently not panicking and screaming, with Soap in between the two of you.

“She likes you.” Ghost comments, folding his arms over his chest.

Johnny doesn’t respond – he has nothing to say, and everything to say all at the same time. He’s got to figure out how to keep the peace around here, and it’s clear that Ghost isn’t has no intentions of making it easy for him. But, he did get one thing right – you do seem to be warming up to Johnny, and the sergeant doesn’t know if he’s thrilled or repulsed at that fact.

Next ->

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @t-virusx @liminal-chickenskin @a-sadmilky

[empresskylo]

'*•.¸♡ — simon 'ghost' riley' x fem!reader

you wanna kiss me so bad — part 2 (wc 1.4k)

part 1 [this can still be read w/o reading pt 1]

You had taken Ghost’s jests in stride. He clearly wanted to one-up you; wanting to show you and Soap he could be just as comical. 

At least he wasn’t angry when you teased him. But still, you hadn’t expected him to respond the way he had. 

You were used to playful teasing, like you would with a sibling. And normally, you could handle crude remarks, always making those with Soap. But when it came to Ghost, something about the way he said them bothered you more than it should have.

You had refrained from talking to Ghost, saving anything you had to say for a later date. Ghost found your response… odd. You went from slowly opening up, joking with the team lightheartedly, to closed off and seemingly lacking any ounce of humor. 

You pulled your jacket tighter as you made it outside, spotting Soap and Ghost up ahead, loading the truck for the upcoming mission.

Ghost stopped what he was doing and stared at you. You froze, your brows furrowing at his sudden shift. Even Soap paused what he was doing to look up at Lt.

“Yes?” You asked him, a bit confused.

“You’re wearing that?” Ghost asked you exasperated, his eyes looking you up and down. 

You felt your face heat. You were literally wearing the same outfit as half the men on the team. It was a uniform after all. He sounded like Soap with his stupid joke. “I guess I am,” you mumbled. You leaned over and picked up a crate to shove on the truck.

Soap smirked, clearly entertained by the awkwardness between you and Ghost.

You loaded the gear quietly for several moments before Ghost met your rhythm, walking beside you as you both carried duffel bags. 

“Calling me stupid one minute, t’not having my jokes at all,” he mumbled. “Can’t seem to figure you out.”

He thought you might not answer him again. You huffed as you tossed the bag onto the truck then turned to face him. “You ever considered the fact that maybe you’re just not that good at puzzles?”

You couldn’t see, but Ghost smiled under his mask. Soap snickered in the background. Ghost turned and leaned against the truck, all the gear loaded up, and crossed his arms. 

“Guess I just prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. You averted his eyes, trying to act like his words weren’t flustering you. Teasing was so much more fun when it was just ludicrous jabs. Whatever this was that Ghost kept pulling, was leaving you speechless, and you hated it. You wonder if you’d respond the same if it was anyone else saying these things to you.

Soap bumped his shoulder against Ghost, finally forcing his eyes away from you. “If y’need the practice L.t., I wouldn’t mind—”

“If you finish that sentence, Johnny, I swear to god.”

Soap laughed and climbed into the back of the humvee. 

You refrained from glaring at Ghost the entire ride, though it took a lot of willpower. You swear you could feel the heat of his gaze along your neck. You were determined to fluster him like he had been doing to you.

And of course, when the team split up, you were somehow stuck with Ghost. It’s like the gods enjoyed torturing you. 

You clutched the sniper closer to your chest, the winter wind sending a chill down your spine. You followed Ghost in silence to the lookout point, your boots crunching the half-melted snow. 

Once on target, you laid prone on your stomach, aiming your rifle into the distance. You checked down the barrel, looking out for any of the men on your team, trying to spot them. Ghost still hadn’t gotten down beside you yet.

“Squattin’ too hard on the joints, Lt.?” You teased, keeping your one eye squared through your scope. 

“If you’re as good a shot as you are at runnin’ your mouth, this is a shoe in,” he muttered, a bit annoyed. You grinned, knowing he couldn’t see, with a bit of satisfaction at getting under his skin. 

Ten minutes had passed and still nothing had happened. You got up onto your knees and looked over at Ghost. He was sitting in the same position, tapping on his tablet to locate the men. You noticed his fingers turning red from the cold, his gloves tucked up under his arm so he could use the screen. 

“Pretty cold out here, Lt.,” you began casually. 

His eyes flickered to you briefly before going right back to what he was doing.

“Should hold my hand. You know… so it doesn’t freeze.”

You heard Ghost laugh through his nose, his eyes still focused downward. 

You turned back to your sniper and saw Ghost shift out of the corner of your eye. You glanced over and you bit your lip to keep from gaping. Ghost had continued what he was doing, but his free hand was nonchalantly outstretched, palm open and turned up for you to take as he concentrated on the GPS tracker.

When you didn’t take his hand he looked up. “What? That all talk, then?” He mocked. 

This whole teasing thing didn’t really work when the participating party wanted all the stupid things you offered.

You decided to play things his way then. You reached out and slid your hand into his. He glared at you, almost like he was overly confident you weren’t going to call his bluff. 

You wanted to show him you were just as committed to the bit as he was. 

“Didn’t take you for the affectionate type, Lieutenant.” You laced your fingers together and gave him a saccharine smile. 

He shook his head, shoving his tool back into his bag before tugging you towards him, his grip firm around your hand. “Affection is a weakness,” he explained. 

“Oh! So is that why you haven’t kissed me yet? Afraid to be weak?”

He knew exactly what you were doing. You were intimidated when he fired remarks back at you, ones that stumped you and left you flustered. You were trying to outdo him; to make him flustered. And Ghost was more than pleased.

He tugged you so close you had to use your hand not tangled in his to catch his chest, stopping you from flying into him. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

“So, what if I would?” You threw his words from the other day back at him.

“This is a game you can’t win, sergeant,” he growled out, his eyes locked on yours, unwavering as he stared you down. 

“No? N’ why’s that?” You asked cooly, trying to mask the fact that your heart was racing. “You think I’m lying?” You were… weren’t you?

Ghost’s eyes narrowed, his mind reeling behind his glare. You swallowed and he traced the way your throat bobbed. Before you had the chance to say more, Ghost used his free hand to push his mask up to his nose, baring his chin and lips to you. He grabbed the front of your tactical vest, his fingers looping into the fabric, and pulled you level with him, your eyes turning to moons. 

“What are ya gonna have t’say once I prove ya wrong?” He asked.

You bit your lip, steadying your rapid breaths. “You won’t.” 

Ghost grinned and you were so shocked by seeing his mouth for the first time, watching his lips tip up into a smile, that you didn’t realize he had closed the distance between the two of you until it was too late. 

The kiss wasn’t long, just enough to be more than a peck. You were surprised at how soft his lips were, and how his faint stubble tickled. 

He broke apart, pushing you backwards and dropping both his hands. 

Maybe he had taken things too far. He averted his gaze while you stared up at him dumbly. Ghost smirked, a bit too proud of himself for stumping you. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t actually wanted to kiss you. No, he was itching to kiss you far more than what just unfolded.

“At least that got you to finally shut your mouth.” You could hear the playful lilt in his voice and it made your chest beat rapidly. You never expected to share a kiss with your lieutenant. And you never thought you’d catch feelings for him. But here you were.

What had you gotten yourself into?

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | v. {END}

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: DUB-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A deep breath flows from your lungs as you examine your reflection in the cracked, stained mirror. It’s been in your family for years and you never had the heart to rid yourself of it, despite the object’s sorry state. Like everything in the small house, it harbors a plethora of fond memories.

You arrange a few unruly strands of your hair. Though you immediately feel silly for doing so.

It’s not like he cares what you look like. It never bothered him before. He always seeks you out, even when you are worn and sweaty after working a long day at the factory.

As you tiptoe across the room, your gaze settles on Tilly’s tiny form. Soft breaths lift her chest up and down. She is fast asleep, thankfully. Words are amiss to explain where you’re sneaking off to tonight, who you’re planning on meeting up with…or perhaps there are words for that, some you are too terrified to even fathom. Two young people secretly wandering the streets of District 8 at night to find each other and…

Your cheeks flare with warmth.

This isn’t what Coriolanus is to you. He is your tormentor. That is all. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be shaking like a leaf in the dark, your stomach threatening to drop to your feet.

One of the moth-eaten, dusty floorboards squeaks below your feet as you reach the exit door and nudge it open.

“Are we going somewhere?”

Startled by your cousin’s drowsy voice, you turn around so fast that your head spins. She blinks at you curiously as she sits up in her bed. A heavy sigh peals from your lips. Smiling from ear to ear, you approach her.

You hunker down in front of her.

“I am. You’re not, sweetie.”

“Where?”

Your stomach coils. Still, your smile remains intact.

“Just gotta run an errand quickly,” you lie while cupping her cheek. “We’re running out of your medicine. We have to make sure you stay healthy past the winter.”

She yawns and glances at the twinkling stars through the window.

“But it’s so late.”

Excuses dwindle in your head. You retreat to the authoritative older sibling tone you sometimes use to get your cousin to do her chores.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Just go back to sleep, okay?”

You tuck Tilly back into bed. Arranging the blanket over her gingerly, you drop a soft kiss on her forehead.

Your cousin nods and curls herself beneath her blanket. Relief swells within you. She is too little to hear about the purpose of your nightly trip. In fact, you plan on her never knowing a thing about it. With luck, all of it will end tonight. You’ll bow to the peacekeeper’s demands. One last time. Then you’ll bury the awful memory in the furthest, deepest recesses of your mind and never look back.

It’s what you hope will happen.

Cool winds skate across your skin when you step outside. The moon trails your quiet, anxious trek through the alleys of District 8, its silver beams lighting the cobblestoned path. Every time your feet hit the ground, the nervousness in the pit of your stomach grows. Perhaps you should have stayed home, risked his wrath. You are so painfully unready for whatever the peacekeeper has in store for you. Your wild, palpitating heart seems as if it’ll burst out of your chest any second now.

Suddenly, your tremulous walk is halted.

Familiar fingers snake around your wrist. You’re pulled into a dark corner and shoved against a wall. A stunned gasp hops from your throat. 

Coriolanus smirks at your reaction.

“No need to be scared, birdie. It’s just me,” he whispers, balancing his arm above your head in a way that makes you feel caged.

“Coriolanus.”

He seizes your chin, cobalt eyes drinking you in. His voice is almost soft.

“You really thought I’d let you walk on your own at night? It’s not safe.”

He parts from the wall. His hand wraps around yours. He tugs you along and you have no choice but to follow.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll recognize it.”

Indeed, you do. To your utter despair. After strolling through a vertiginous amount of dank alleyways and narrow stairs, you and the peacekeeper end up in front of a place that bears a daunting familiarity.

As the neon lights of the brothel fill your sight, your apprehension skyrockets.

Snippets of memories of what occurred the last time you were here lurk inside your mind. Your insides clutch.

Coriolanus sighs. His thumb sweeps across your palm, almost tenderly.

“It won’t be like last time. I promise. You can trust me.”

The same beautiful woman welcomes the two of you. Once again, there’s a flirting lilt to her tone, one the peacekeeper ignores. Coriolanus asks about a room. His questions about it fade amidst the uproarious drumming of your heart inside your ears. You’re a jittery wreck behind him, your gaze bouncing from wall to wall.

His deep voice yanks your attention back to him.

“Birdie?”

“Y-Yes?”

The corner of his lips quirks upward.

“Come with me.”

You nod. Is it too late to make a run for it? Though you’d rather not find out how much worse this could get, how mean Coriolanus could turn. He didn’t even hesitate to have you on your knees before, simply to make a point. He’s in good spirits now, nicer than he’s ever been to you, even humming a light tune to himself. Maybe you should aim to keep it that way. Tread the path of least resistance, as much as you loathe yourself for surrendering to him so easily.

You enter the room. Your heart leaps when you hear him lock the door behind you. The inside is nicely decorated. Candles around the canopy bed at the center of the room provide a soft, intimate light. 

Red and white rose petals are scattered over the silk sheets.

Your heart skips a beat when his breath ghosts over your neck.

“It’s pretty, right?” His hands settle over your hips, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I had it decorated specially for us.”

He shifts you so you’re facing him. Fingers sneak below your chin, tilting it upward. Your stomach flutters as you get lost in his blue eyes. They burn into you like coals in the swaying candlelight.

“Has anyone ever done something this nice for you?”

You remain silent for a while, fiddling with the scarf around your neck, the one he gave you.

“N-No,” you eke out after an eternity.

He starts pulling on your scarf. When it hits the floor, exposing your neck to his gaze, you already feel incredibly vulnerable. You tremble as Coriolanus begins to circle around you. As he does that, more articles of clothing join your scarf on the floor, turning into a growing heap at your feet.

First he unbuttons your shirt. When it’s loose on your frame, he pulls on it lightly until it slides off you. Next he unlaces your skirt. Coriolanus is slow, digits dragging over your quivering flesh as he peels every layer of fabric off you. Eventually, you are bare before him. Goosebumps peek under your skin as he spends a torturous minute simply appraising you. Lust swells his pupils, nearly drowning the blue in his eyes.

“Have you ever done this before?”

You shake your head. He seizes your jaw, angling your face upward.

“No miners? No factory worker? No one before me?”

Heat rushes to your face. Still, you shake your head again, faintly wishing you could sink inside the earth and disappear.

Satisfaction illuminates his features.

“So I’m your first.” He caresses your arm. You will yourself still, despite the itch to run away searing through you like a hot knife. His voice lowers to a husky whisper. “I wish you’d see I’m not your enemy, birdie.”

He then shocks you. Layer by layer, Coriolanus starts to shed every part of his peacekeeper uniform. Every piece of clothing falls into a heap on the floor that melds with yours.

When he peels off his boxers, your throat dries. He’s thick and long, just as you remember. Apprehension settles within you. His eyes lock with yours. “Do I look like your enemy right now?” he mumbles. Your pulse picks up as he approaches you. Your gaze drifts everywhere and nowhere, your breath caged in your lungs.

“I don’t know.”

“Do I scare you?”

“Yes.”

His mouth slants crookedly.

“But not in the way you wished, right?”

You gawk at him, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed.

The courage to answer never finds its way into your heart. Coriolanus’ lips however find their way onto yours. At first, the kiss is soft and firm. Cradling your face, he sweeps his mouth over yours without haste. Meticulously slow. As if he wishes to commit your taste to memory.

He nudges you backwards onto the bed. When your back collides with the mattress, his mouth turns more ravenous. His tongue explores the roof of your mouth while his hands wander lower, kneading at your curves. Your head spins. You keen against his tongue as a sick twinge of something you won’t name flickers in your core.

When his mouth parts from yours, you’re both equally breathless, his warm breath mingling with yours. You find yourself almost longing for the heady feeling. Almost. The blond smiles down at your dazed expression.

He traces your jaw with his thumb.

“You can scream as much as you like, you know? No one will come to your rescue.”

“I won’t scream,” you say, defiance igniting your gaze.

“Oh but you will,” he replies with confidence. His mouth ghosts over your earshell. “You’re all mine tonight, pretty bird.” His mouth tugs upwards. “And I plan on making you beg for it before the morning comes.”

As if to emphasize his point, he slithers down your body. The entire time, he corrals your gaze, his blue eyes shimmering in the darkness. He wedges himself between your thighs, meeting only meek resistance as he pushes them apart. 

Coriolanus appraises your slick folds. He drags a finger alongside your slit, mirth lighting up his face. 

“Already so wet for me, birdie,” he says.

Your face heats. You could try to contradict him but the evidence is right there between your legs. Impossible to escape or deny. You are sinfully, embarrassingly wet in front of the peacekeeper.

“I-”

Brazenness melts off your tongue when he presses his lips to your core. He feasts on your weeping folds, his unyielding fingers keeping you placid and open. His tongue teases your tender nub, drawing torturous patterns. Your muscles tighten. The air in your lungs rushes in and out faster as Coriolanus’ tragically skilled tongue sends zings of shameful pleasure through your spine. 

Meticulous and slow, he takes his time to taste you. Every second he spends unraveling you is the most sensual torture.

Your trembling fingers claw at the sheets, your eyes rolling back. You glance down. A peculiar tingle dances through your belly when you catch sight of the blond’s head bobbing between your thighs. Despite your center aching for release, you fight the urge to buck your hips into his mouth and seek more of the delectable contact. He sucks your swollen clit between his lips, pushing his tongue between your folds. You gulp down a sharp scream. Waves of pleasures sweep through your frame. Your lids flutter as your stomach tightens. A painful tension settles in your limbs, heat gathering in your core.

For a long time, you try to stay quiet. You bite yourself hard enough to draw blood as you muffle every whimper and moan struggling to break past the confines of your lips. 

Coriolanus makes his way up your body, his index and middle finger replacing his tongue. Quick exhales burst from your chest as you peer at him through your hazy vision.

“I want to hear you, birdie,” he rasps, his fingers catching on your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open. He sinks a finger inside you. Your chest lifts, brushing against his. When the digit hooks between your slick walls, grazing against your sensitive spot, you unleash a loud squeal.

The blond smiles.

“There. So much better.”

He sneaks another finger inside your core, stretching you even more. Unused to the feeling, you whine and grip a fistful of the sheets. He pumps inside you, finding a steady rhythm that has you twitching beneath him. The broken moans spilling from your tongue mingle with the wet sounds your cunt makes as he explores you with his fingers.

Embarrassment is slowly nudged aside by the storm of delectable sensations growing inside you.

The heel of his hand keeps grazing against your swollen button, eliciting spikes of pleasure through your flesh.

His forehead rests against yours, his feathery lashes falling to half-mast as he whispers,

“Come for me, birdie.”

Your breathing accelerates, his words propelling you closer to your peak. You clench around his fingers. Your legs tense. Warm tingles swirl across your flesh as your back arches. 

A lightning bolt of pleasure passes through you, quick and intense. For a few seconds, not a thought occupies your mind. You are nothing but a million nerve endings on fire.

Your boneless frame crashes over the sheets.

“Good girl,” he praises, his smile expanding. His fingers pull out of you and he brings them to his lips. You watch, sickly fascinated as he dips them into his mouth, reveling in your taste. He hums in appreciation. Your face warms. He then places those same digits over your own lips, forcing you to taste yourself. He bends over you, peppering sluggish kisses in the crook of your neck. His hand splays over your heaving chest, his thumb rubbing your nipples until they pebble under his touch. His lips trail lower on your body. 

He pauses, looming over you. Hands on each side of you, Coriolanus lines his tip with your entrance. Your eyes widen in surprise. You squirm and try to scoot away, panic rushing through you. 

He yanks you back on the bed with ease, his body pinning yours onto the mattress. When you reach for his face, hoping to land a blow, he snatches your wrists and slams them above your head.

He scoffs, “So feisty, even to the bitter end.”

Your breath falters when his thick tip stretches you open. Even that single inch of him feels like too much. Rapid breaths burst from your fluttering chest.

Tears quiver beneath your lashes.

“It hurts…”

He pushes until he’s halfway inside you. Pain shoots through you as you sob.

The tears spill. He releases one of your wrists to fondle your cheek.

“Shh, it’s okay, pretty bird. I’ve got you.” 

He shoves inside you until he grazes your hilt. Your lips part in a quiet scream, your vision flickering. For a while, Coriolanus remains still, giving you time to accommodate his thick girth. He starts moving, his thrusts slow and deep. The longer he fucks you, the more the pain morphs into something else. Something not entirely unpleasant, albeit a little terrifying. The aching stretch becomes tantalizing, your wet walls clinging to his length every time it drags against your soft spots. Little whimpers leave your throat as you cling to his bicep.

Coriolanus’ hand wraps around your jaw.

“Focus on me and only me,” he instructs.

Your eyes dive into his. Flames dance in his cobalt orbs. He smiles, his thumb sweeping  over your bottom lip.

“Such an obedient girl.”

“How does it feel now?” he grunts. You note the sweat glistening over his bare muscles, dotting at his brow. His exhales are more strained now, matching yours. 

You keen at a sharp snap of his pelvis into yours. He picks up the pace, bending one of your thighs against your chest to thrust as far as his cock will go. Your toes curl, blissful shivers creeping their way up your spine. 

“Awful,” you wheeze out. 

He snickers. “You’re a horrible liar, birdie.”

You sense him nearing the cusp of his pleasure. His cock twitches between your walls and you plead, panicked, “Corio…Coriolanus…not inside, please.”

A crooked grin spreads on his lips. 

“But wouldn’t it be wonderful, if I left you something to remember me by.”

You shudder, shaking your head. “No…”

He slips his fingers between your joined bodies, drawing a long moan from you when he starts rubbing your pulsing clit. He plays with your tender bud until you cry out. You come apart around him, slick walls hugging him snugly as he shoots his thick seed inside you. 

Dread settles in your bones, piercing through the haze of delight. You tremble as the stickiness trickles alongside your walls.

He lets out a throaty sigh, trapping you underneath him so you can’t move. 

“Yes,” he breathes out, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Your mouth opens in shock as another tear traces a blazing path down your cheek. He scatters bruising kisses along the column of your neck. His cruel words sear into your flesh. “That way you can never forget you were mine before anyone else, birdie.”

You awake with a start, bruised and sore, in the massive bed. Your glance darts around, confusing filling you as you tuck the blanket against your frame. Your shoulders sag. You note faint sunlight pouring through the crimson curtains. All the candles from last night have been blown out. 

It’s the next day. You are alone. You shiver at the sight of the rumpled sheets, glimpses from the night before seeping through your mind. Coriolanus kept true to his word and made you sing for him the entire night. He was relentless and didn’t stop until you passed out from pleasure. In fact, you were so exhausted, you can’t pinpoint the moment he left. You simply recall him cooing soft praises in your ear as he had his way with you for the last time. 

For a moment, you held some fear that he would never leave, since he was so hellbent on making you come around him as many times in a row as he could.

What terrifies you most however, is that last night wasn’t terrible. Not entirely. Or not in the way you pictured at least. Heat creeps up in your cheeks at the thought. 

You clamber off the bed, wincing at the aching stiffness of your limbs. You collect your clothes and begin to dress. You’re eager to leave the room. It stinks of sex and shameful mistakes. 

As you climb down the stairs, the madam greets you with a wiggle of her fingers. You bristle, shame glowing inside your chest. 

She bends over the wooden handrail, her cleavage threatening to spill out of her dress.

“He said you were free to stay in the room to rest for the entire day if you wished. Paid in full before he left.”

“I don’t want to stay.” 

You hasten your pace to reach the exit faster.

She stops you in your tracks, a mischievous grin dancing on her lips.

“So the pretty boy didn’t tire you out then?” She tilts her head and pouts. “Pity. I imagined him to be a more…zealous lover.”

Your cheeks flame as you rush out of the brothel. You can’t get back home fast enough. 

You need a shower expeditiously. Never before have you longed for the freezing cold spray to hit your skin so badly.

You return home to at least a month’s worth of supplies and medicine in several bags. 

There’s even candy for your cousin, the same he brought her last time. Your cousin’s overjoyed, of course, but you remind her not to overindulge. 

Nothing else accompanies them. No letter. No card. You should feel happy at that, you surmise. Finally, you are free to live life on your own terms, return to your routine. 

Part of you is a little stunned by it however, and perhaps expect the peacekeeper to not be truly gone. For days, you keep wondering if he’ll materialize from a dark corner or surprise you as you stroll down a dank alleyway. 

None of that occurs. Still, it takes weeks for your blood not to chill anymore at the sight of a peacekeeper. After a month of tranquil, humdrum days, you’re forced to admit it. Coriolanus has granted you the peace he promised.

Your chest is a little lighter as you head to the factory everyday. You even start smiling again, which Yara and Tilly keep teasing you about.

But you can’t help it. No more feeling scared or confused. No more eyes trailing your every move. You’re relieved, happy. Life in district 8 may sometimes be uncertain but, at least, you hold your destiny in your hands once more.

Blessed freedom. Finally.

So you let yourself relax. Over time, the terror gripping your gut melts away. The tightness in your chest eases. 

Your mind is so at ease that you don’t notice the shadow creeping behind you on your way out of the factory. It’s too late when you do. 

A black cloth is shoved over your head as you turn a street corner. You’re hauled off your feet and dragged into a dim alley. Your heart races, panic flooding you as you’re tossed into the back of a vehicle. 

The engine roars to life. Every question you ask is ignored, your kidnappers frustratingly silent. You wonder if you’ll die or be sold off to traffickers. You’ve heard of district girls disappearing sometimes, the kind no one will miss or ask too many questions about. 

They often end up in sordid places. You’ve heard the stories. Some could end up in the mines, in shady brothels or even wind up as an Avox maid with their tongues cut off. Chills swirl over your skin. 

Is it to be your fate? Being carted off to some hellish place and worked to death? 

The car stops. Your pulse soars. Quick breaths pour from your mouth as you’re roughly carried to some other place. You struggle, trying to kick your assailant. You land a blind strike and hear a curse. You make a run for it, your blood singing wildly. 

It’s pathetic the swiftness with which you’re caught, as if your attempt meant nothing. 

You’re shoved into a box. As the slamming of a hammer surrounds you, sealing your fate, you begin to sob. You used to think you were just born in the wrong place, unlucky, like so many others. Now you’re starting to believe you are cursed.

Shivers wrack your frame as the box is lifted. Your stomach lurches. The entire trip is a nightmare. Dread grips you tight as questions crowd your mind about who’s taking you and why. After a while, you realize you’re on a train. Your terror swells. 

You’re being moved out of District 8. You haven’t left your district since birth. For better or worse, this was your home.

After an awful, rambunctious journey, the box is finally opened. You hear grunting above you as the lid of the box is pried open. 

The bag over your head is removed and you take in a lungful of clean air. Strong arms hoist you out of the box. You clumsily stumble to your feet. 

You whirl. 

An audible breath skips off your tongue as you take in who stands before you. He looks so different. No more peacekeeper uniform. No more buzzcut.

“Coriolanus?” you gasp.

He smiles. “Hi, birdie.” A wave of snow engulfs your veins.

He sweeps a hand over his silver curls, sounding almost bashful.

“Do you like it? I’m trying to grow it out again.”

Ignoring him, you peer at your surroundings. The white room has a vaulted glass ceiling that allows sunlight in. The pearly marble tiles are pristine. Other than that, you only find one opening. A small door on the other side. You scuttle across the room to reach it. 

The door knob shakes but doesn’t give. Still, you insist, your desperation growing. Your heart sinks as you glance down at the tiny keyhole in the door. 

Coriolanus’ deep voice approaches from behind you. 

“This is a locked cell, pretty bird,” he explains. “And I’m the only one with the key. Dr. Gaul uses it for her more…feral experiments. But she’s granted me permission to use it for an experiment of my own.”

You whip around. “Dr. Gaul?” 

You feign interest, hoping to distract him, having noted the tiny golden key dangling from his neck. Coriolanus catches you looking at it and smirks. “My mentor. Don’t worry. I’ll walk you through everything. I’m sure you’ll fit right in over time.”

He inches closer and you stagger backwards. 

“W-Why am I here?”

Instead of being offended by your attempts to shy away from him, the blond seems mildly amused, studying you as he paces around the room.

“I couldn’t let my sweet bird wither away in a filthy district, of course. I belong in the Capitol, and you belong to me.”

You gape at him. While you knew him to be some entitled rich kid from the Capitol, you never imagined he’d take it this far. Steal you away like you’re some shiny object that struck his fancy at the marketplace. Not a person with a life and desires of their own.

“You’re insane,” you hiss.

His mouth twitches, marking the first hint of displeasure at your reaction.

“We’ll have to work on that coarse mouth of yours. It will not stand here.” His tone grows chillier. “Here in the Capitol, we have discipline, order.”

“Let me go,” you shout, lunging yourself at him. You attempt to tackle him and grab the key from his neck. Unleashing a sigh of annoyance, Coriolanus seizes your wrist and twists it with hardly any effort. The sickening sound of bones snapping lands in your ears. He throws you on the floor, kicking your side for good measure. You keel over the tiles, cradling your throbbing wrist against your chest.

Coriolanus shakes his head as he considers your curling frame on the floor.

“Look what you’re making me do, sweet bird. As I’ve said, your uncouth District wench ways will not stand here. You’re going to behave…” He hunkers down before whispering, “Unless you never want to see your cousin again.”

Your head snaps up, tears filling your eyes.

“She needs me. Coriolanus, please-”

“She will be cared for. There’s a very nice orphanage south of the Capitol, one for all the children who lost their homes in the war.” He beams at you. “She’s being transported there as we speak.”

“Oh my god…”

“You want to see her again? It’s all up to you, birdie.” A slow, wicked smirk blooms on his lips. “...Or perhaps she would fare well as the District 8 tribute for the 11th Hunger Games. She may be a little young…but at least she’d increase viewership.”

“You can’t do that,” you protest, your lip quaking as tears skip over your cheeks.

A dark chuckle leaves him.

“I can and I will. You see, birdie, the world isn’t fair.” He cocks his head. “No one cares about innocent children dying. Hell, I was kicked, beaten and starved so many times during the war, I lost count. No one cared.” His blue eyes turn icier as they meet yours. “The world…it’s an arena. You’re either a predator, or you’re prey.” He lifts his hand to cup your cheek. A gesture that’d be almost tender if the words spilling from his mouth weren’t so cruel. “It’s best to just embrace your role.”

He caresses your tear-stained cheek.

“So will you be my sweet, obedient girl?”

As you sink in his empty blue gaze, a sense of defeat cloaks your frame. You come to realize, you were never meant to come out unscathed from meeting Coriolanus Snow, never meant to win. The fire in his eyes is the kind that burns all standing in its path.

There is no getting away. If you survived him, you’d be lucky.

Your chin trembles as you reply meekly, “Y-Yes, Coriolanus.”

His lips brush over yours before he gets to his feet, satisfaction glowing on his handsome features.

“Wonderful. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone, birdie.”

[anjellaufeyson]

Hate with attraction - Bellamy Blake

I hated Bellamy and despised him since the beginning. He always had to counter my arguments and disagree with me on every move I made. Every step I took–he criticized. The feeling of hatred was mutual, I never failed to return the remarks he made.

           Bellamy brushed past as if I weren't there, yet he still managed to whisper, “You're falling behind.” 

           I picked up my pace as we walked through the forest. The whole hunting group was filled with all my friends–besides Bellamy. I shoved him almost into a tree, “Catch up soldier boy.” 

My best friend, Octavia turned around while walking, and Bellamy glared at me. “I get Bellamy is an ass but why can't you guys just get along?”

I could feel his stare on me, “Your brother started it on day 1 of coming back to earth. The power must’ve gone to his hollow head, can’t say more than that–” My words were cut off at the sound of arrows flying past us. 

“Grounders,” Bellamy yelled. 

Clarke and Monty spread out of their spot because that’s where most of the fire was, “Guys we have to split up! We all have intercoms so once it’s safe we’ll come back together.” 

Octavia reached for my hand but missed me by a couple of inches, an arrow grazed my palm and cut me, “Just go,” I yelled. She ran away but was hesitant. I was about to reach for my gun before a hand stopped me–Bellamy. 

“We have time to run, don’t waste your bullets.”

I crouched down with him so no one gets hurt again, “If you keep ordering me around, I’m about to waste one.” 

He groaned as he grabbed me and we both made a run for it, “Keep this shit up and maybe I’ll throw you to the grounders.” 

I pushed him off me as we walked into a tiny cave for cover, “I’d rather be with them than you,” I mumbled. 

“What was that princess,” he asked knowing he heard every word I said. His anger was pissing me off. He ripped a part of his shirt off and began wrapping it around my cut.

“I hate when you call me that.” He only called me that because my father is Kane and he won’t let go that I’m “privileged” just like Clarke. “I didn’t make the rules on the ship, It’s not my fault that–”

He pulled hard on the tie he was making causing me to wince in pain, “Don’t finish that sentence.” Bellamy glanced up at me then annoyingly back at my cut as he wrapped it to perfection–I hated how good he was at helping when I needed it. “I know it’s not your fault but your father and every privileged person on that ship let her die for what reason? Because she had one more kid?” 

“You know the rules,” I spoke lowly. It was a sensitive topic and even though I hated his guts and wouldn’t mind if he got floated, I did sympathize. I never liked what happened and the fact no one could have siblings. “The more space taken by more kids would’ve left us overpopulated Bell–” I paused when talking, his nickname Octavia slipped out so easily. 

He looked up at me whilst still holding my hand even though the t-shirt bandage was as good as it was going to get. “I’m sorry she was floated, but it was the rules. And you know the Ark was already overpopulated enough. That’s why they sent us down here in the first place, the stupid 100 who had to risk their criminalistic lives for the others.” This topic always got me upset, not sad but mad. My father, Jaha, and Clarke's mom, Abby, were all willing to risk our lives as if we were all test subjects. 

“We mean nothing to them, that’s why I was so hell-bent on making sure all of the 100 could survive.”

I rolled my eyes remembering this wasn’t a friend I was talking to, “No, Bellamy you wanted all of us to remove our locators so that you could make sure they didn’t come down here because your reckless ass shot Jaha. I understand it was for Octavia but don’t act as if you’re some hero.” 

He pressed down on my wound before dropping his hand, “I never said I was. You always think you’re better than me.” 

I went to punch Bellamy but he moved out of the way, I was always good at hand-to-hand, my father got me a trainer, one of the guards. I knew how to fight, shoot, plant, etc. I was built to survive as if he’s been planning this forever. I smiled as I ducked the attack he threw at me, “You can only stand your ground because of the training you and Lincoln did together.” I went to kick him but he caught my leg, kicks were the one thing I couldn’t get the hang of. 

“Learn to be faster, princess,” he had a tiny grin on his face as he twisted my leg so I was hopping. 

I’d never give him the satisfaction of beating me, I kicked my leg again and got out of his grip. I elbowed him and punched him. His lip began to bleed, he had a smile on his face as his finger touched his lip. “Better,” he whispered. 

I went to hit him again but he blocked it and turned me around and kicked behind my leg causing me to fall onto one knee. He grabbed my hair, not too rough to hurt me but enough to move my head so I’d look up at him. “Train more and maybe you’ll beat me.” 

Slowly I rose and hit him at his throat causing him to back up. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough so he’d fuck off. I regained enough strength to cause him to lose his balance, then I got him to hit his back onto the ground. I kept my knee on his chest as I looked down at him, “You’ll never beat me, Bellamy. And I don’t think I’m better than you–” Our breaths filled the cave, “I know I am.” 

I stayed with my knee on his chest until he gave me a look that I couldn’t comprehend. His lips parted and he moved in to kiss me. I don’t know why but I didn’t back away, I took my knee off of his chest slowly. His fingers slipped into my hair and he pulled me deeper in. He kissed me roughly and I could taste the hate he held for me. Then he pushed me with a betrayal of a smile, “Never let your guard down, princess.” 

I made myself look hurt, he stepped closer and I pulled him in for a kiss. He seemed hesitant but easily fell into it. I bit down on his lip causing him to wince in pain. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, blood was dripping more than before. 

I pushed him away from me, I hated him now more than before. But God, I’d kiss him again with hate once more if given the chance. “Never let your guard down, Bell.” 

Suddenly Octavia ran into the cave looking frantic, “Jesus, did the grounders attack you guys?” 

Bellamy and I shared a glance, I turned back to Octavia and smiled as if I wasn’t in pain. “No, no we made it out. Well not without one price to pay,” I said as I held my hand up. 

Octavia looked shocked, she now realized our words were no longer threats, they were promises. “Bellamy,” she said in confusion but also her annoyance was beginning to focus on both of us for being stupid enough to fight each other. “O,” he said while walking past her. I stopped walking so I could talk with Octavia. He turned to me and whispered, “Next time you won’t get off that easily.” I paused, next time?

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hi! I love your blog so much. I was hoping you could write what yandere!batfam would do if the reader just barricaded themselves in a room and does everything to make sure batfam can't get in. I hope you have a great day and drink plenty of water.

Thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog, and I am absolutely going to do a snippet for this!

Warnings: (implied) hunger striking, captivity, themes of obsession, violence, and threats of restraints as well as physically restraining someone.

“You know that’s only going to hold us out for so long, right?”

It’s Jason. You don’t respond, keeping silent. It was just another trick, you knew, to get you to open the door.

Not that they only needed a door. You’d shoved the massive bookcase in front of the window, shoving your bed in front of it. Your desk, and the final bookshelf, had gone to block the door.

You had no doubt it wouldn’t hold them long. It just had to hold them long enough.

“Come on, kid, think about this. Open the door, and I’ll try and talk the old man down from taking the damn door off it’s hinges.”

You hiss softly in alarm, because you had thought Bruce was gone. You thought he was away, in Nepal, in a business trip. Otherwise there was no possible way you would have been able to pull this off, you knew.

“You didn’t know the old man was back? He got a call from Dickiebird, he’s on his way to the Manor as we speak, kid. You really want him to start breaking down the door? He will, you know it.”

You keep quiet, fingers buried in the soft carpet, and try to focus. Try to breath. Bruce being here changed things. Dick being here changed things.

“Who’s all in the Manor?”

You manage to croak out, and Jason pauses.

“Not sure I should be telling you that, kid. I’ll cut you a deal, though. Tell me why you’re pulling out the anti-siege tactics and I’ll tell you some names.”

You shake your head, before you remember that Jason couldn’t see you. That was fine.

“No deal.”

You weren’t going to be explaining to them that you felt suffocated, more often than not. That they were always there, constantly hovering, a hand on your shoulder or an arm linked around yours. That you had so little agency that you felt you were going insane, on a good day.

“Then guess you’re gonna be in the dark. Head up, though. Golden Boy’s pissed.”

That manages to rip the air from your lungs. Dick was scary as hell when he got angry, scary enough that out of all your siblings captors, his anger would immediately send you into a near frenzy. He got fucking mean when he was mad, and he knew how to use his words to cut to the bone.

“What and you aren’t?” You taunt, frantically trying to stop the way your heart thunders in your ears and the way your blood pulses in your veins.

“Oh no, I’m pissed. Pissed enough I’m keeping this door between the two of us, because I don’t want to traumatize ya.” It’s- it’s almost cheerful, the way he says it, so matter of fact, but the words are phrased in a way that you know they’re true. Every syllable is tense and clipped, not quite grit out and hidden behind the easygoing bluster.

“Yeah, well, I’m also pretty into keeping the door between us.” You snap, because you are impulsive and dumb and holy shit you did not think this through.

You hear the faintest sound from Jason, and when he speaks again, his voice is sharp, sharp enough you cringe back and try not to panic.

“I fucking bet, you brat. What exactly are you planning to get out of this, huh? Planning on going on a hunger strike or something?”

The door rattles in the frame, and you yelp, alarmed.

A sigh, and when Jason speaks again, it’s softer. Cajoling.

“Listen. Bruce and Golden Boy are gonna be here soon. We can do this two ways. You either open the door, apologize to me for being an absolute menace and driving me insane, or it gets busted down, and you leave the room anyways, except with a lot more yelling and a lot higher chance of Bruce not letting you out of his sight for months. Literally.”

You bite your lip, hands fisted in the rug.

“I’m not opening the door, Jason.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You hear his footsteps leave. For a second, you take a moment to breathe, air whistling between your teeth, the AC loud in the quiet room.

“Open the door.”

You jump, nearly leaping a foot in the air, and the startled sound dies in your chest, eyes wide.

Bruce. Bruce was on the other side of the door, right now, and he was pissed. Pissed enough that his voice had that gravelly, rough quality it got when he was being stern and already mad as hell but trying not to show it.

“No.”

Your voice sounds small, even to you. You try to ignore it.

The door rattles on it’s hinges. It seemed, with a locked door and several heavy oak dressers between you and him, he was determined to move both. It rattles again, this time louder, and you shriek in alarm when the desk creaks. How fucking hard was Bruce hitting it?

“(Y/N), unless you want me to break this door down, open the door.” Bruce sighs after he speaks, and then breathes in, like he was trying to calm himself down.

“I know you’re scared right now. But just open the door and come out, and we can talk about why you did this, okay? I’m sorry I frightened you.”

You feel tears prick at the side of your face, feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the fear. You want to shake your head.

You don’t say anything, and he sighs again.

This time, it’s not just the door that rattles. The desk shudders, straining against the weight thrown against it, and the shelf creaks, then sways.

You’re smart enough to back up and away before it comes crashing down. Not that you don’t doubt Bruce knew you were away from the shelf, or he never would have risked toppling the heavy thing.

When he ducks through the doorway, picking his way over the shattered desk and shelf, you back away, hands trembling. He pauses.

“(Y/N). Why don’t you come over here so we can clean the mess up, and we can talk about this in a bit? Just take a breath, okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. It makes some of the anger drain from his features, that you weren’t hurt, but you don’t get any closer and his lips press into a thin line.

“(Y/N). Come here.”

It’s stern. It reminds you of the same voice he uses every time you try and escape or fight with your siblings. It makes your stomach twist.

Your eyes flick to the door, and Dick, who was standing not far from the door way, sharp blue eyes watching you for any movement.

You make your decision, swallow, and ease forward.

Warm arms wrap around you the second you’re in reach, pressing you against Bruce’s chest, and you feel a bit of the tension in his shoulders unwind, just barely.

“This isn’t happening again, (Y/N). Do you understand me? What if you had gotten hurt, when the shelf came down? What if you had gotten hurt when you were in here and couldn’t say anything?”

Bruce was pissed, and he grips you tightly, tightly enough that you squirm in his hold, which only makes him grip you tighter.

“I wouldn’t have gotten myself hurt! It’s practically an empty room half the time, what could I have hurt myself with?”

God, you hated it when your mouth ran faster than your thoughts.

“That’s not what matters.” Dick cuts in. “The issue is that you could’ve, and we couldn’t have done anything about it!”

He pissed, practically spitting out the words, and you can hear Bruce’s frown.

“Dick, you need to calm down.”

“No! This is the fifth time this month they’ve tried something, you have to do something, Bruce! It’s stressing everyone out!”

You open your mouth to argue, ready to defend yourself because you hadn’t asked for any of this, but Bruce speaks before you can.

“I will.”

And suddenly you are far more preoccupied with trying to prevent Bruce from picking you up, twisting and squirming to get away, but he catches you easily. He presses you against him, this time the action restraining, and lifts, taking your feet off the ground.

The entire trip through the Manor, you are twisting and pushing against him, trying to escape. You nearly get close, once, when he was adjusting his hold and you had snapped your teeth at him, but Dick had lurched froward for a moment and it had startled you so badly that you had frozen, giving him time to readjust.

You’re dumped on a medical cot, and when you see the straps on either side, it nearly takes the both of them to hold you down long enough to get them on. Bruce looks pained the entire time, as you kick and flail, and when they’re both done, your arms are strapped securely enough that yanking on them does nothing.

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bruce frowns, and then sighs, moving the cot. You’re moved with it, and you glare. “This is only temporary until we find a more permanent solution, (Y/N). Until we can trust you not to be a danger to yourself, alright? It won’t last long.”

Dick doesn’t look like he agrees.

You don’t either.

[charlesf1leclerc]

Summary- Wedding dress shopping with the Leclerc family 

Today was the day, the day you were going to pick your wedding dress out. You and your boyfriend had been together for 3 years before getting engaged. Being the youngest and only girl of the Leclerc siblings it was hard for your three brothers to accept your boyfriend but they came around eventually and secretly loved him like he was there biological brother. Safe to say now you were on big happy family.

Picking your wedding dress out was one of the final few pieces of the puzzle and for you was the most exciting, minus the actual wedding day. You wanted all the most important people to be there with you which meant your three older brothers and your mum ( because you loved her and also because she would be the best at actually helping pick a dress ).

You thought the boys wouldn’t want to come because they didn’t like shopping unless it was for themselves and they would normally just mope around but today they were actually just as excited as you maybe even more excited. 

Going into the store you had a clear vision of what you wanted a long flowy white dress, with flowers coming up the front of the dress and a long veil to match. The assistant had chosen a few dresses that matched the images best while you your mum and brothers wandered the store picking out anything else you might like.

“ This one’s beautiful “ your mum pulled out a ball gown dress with puffy tule sleeves. 

“ it’s a bit much mum” you looked at the dress it’s definitely not what you wanted

“ she’ll look like a giant snowball” Arthur laughed

“ no she won’t she’ll look beautiful no matter what she wears” Pascale slaps his arm

“ I’ll try it for you mum” you smiled at her

You all continued looking at dresses although at this point it seemed like only you and the assistant and maybe your mum were being helpful with what you actually want.

“ This one’s nice” you smiled pulling one out abit from the rack it was a strapless long dress with flowers up the Bodice like you wanted.

Your mum came over and looked at it nodding her head.

“Absolutely not” Charles shook his head

“ what why” you looked questionably at him 

“ where are the sleeves” He observed the dress

“ that’s the point it’s strapless, don’t worry it stays up it’s like magic” you laughed

“ that’s a lot of chest y/n” Lorenzo said

“ ugh you guys are so annoying “ you rolled your eyes handing the dress to the lady walking away to find more.

“ I think this one would look lovely on you, covers everything and is elegant” Charles walked over with a dress to show you

“ Charles you can’t see any of me in that dress” it was a turtle neck satin dress with sleeves and when all the way to the floor.

“ Yes you can you can see the parts that matter your face “ He shoved the dress into your hands

“ Just go along with it sweetie, you’re there baby just as much as you’re mine” Pascale came over combing her hand through your hair.

“ are we done yet” Arthur mumbled walking to stand next to you to

“ I haven’t tried any on Arthur” you looked at him like he was stupid for not knowing that.

“ You’re trying them on!” He looked shocked

“ What did you think I was gonna do pick one and walk out of the store with it?”

“Yes!” You all rolled your eyes at him.

“ ok sir down we will start with all these” there were about 6 dresses to try on the start.

“ Start there’s gonna be more, why am I here” Arthur mumbled as he sat down on the couch next to his other family members.

“ you’re here because you love y/n and we want to make sure she looks beautiful on her wedding day” Pascale whispered to him out of the corner of his mouth. 

It was abit overwhelming on where to start first. But you decided on starting with pascales pick first. Even though it was not your style you never know. 

It was definitely a lot the dress was beautiful but it was just far to much fabric, you felt lost in the dress and the dress should compliment you not you compliment the dress. 

“ Have you got it on” Arthur shouted

He’s so impatient 

“Yes “ you replied 

“ well can we see it” Lorenzo asked

“ I hate it” 

“ just come out and show us hunny even if it’s not the one” your mum said considerately.

You opened the curtain and lifted the mountain of dress up to walk up the platform infront of them.

Pascale sat there in shock at the dress while your brothers looked more in a daze. 

“ so…..” you waited for some verbal reaction, but they all just sat there.

“ hello can someone say something” 

“Hunny you look beautiful, a princess “ your mum smiled her eyes welling up with tears

“ don’t cry mum , then I’ll cry and I don’t wanna cry” you shook your head

“ Y/n you look like a snowball” 

“ARTHUR” you scolded, annoyed at him.

“ but a beautiful snowball, a really pretty snowball “ he continued.

You laughed at him “ your not crying are you”

“ no definitely not “ he looked away and whipped his eyes. He so was crying. 

“ it’s not the one, but you look really pretty Cherie” Charles looked at you lovingly

“ even if half my chest is exposed” you laughed

“ I hate that but you’re always beautiful” he smiled 

“ I agree , your gorgeous but if you don’t love it out the next one on” Lorenzo smiled at you.

“ you guys are gonna make it very hard to choose” You sniffed

“ oh no! Guys no one say anything y/n we don’t care which one you get just pick your favourite and let’s go” Arthur sunk into the couch.

“ whatever Arthur I know you love seeing the dresses on me you just won’t admit it” you walked back to the dressing room.

You had tried thousands of dresses on it felt like that day. You definitely did not like the turtleneck dress Charles picked out even though he love it. You did like a few of the others but you all agreed none of them were the one and you would keep trying. Now you were packing up getting ready to leave the store empty handed. 

“ so your telling me I have to come back” Arthur asked shocked

“ would you shut up” Charles scolded 

“ don’t worry y/n we will keep looking with you until you find the exact one you want, your dream dress”

“ Although you did look beautiful in everyone you tried “ Pascale acknowledged.

“ yes Papa would be proud of the beautiful woman you are” Lorenzo smiled wrapping his arm over your shoulder

“Guys I said don’t make me cry” you laughed.

You all walked out for he store together, you were grateful to have a family who supported you, your decisions and your man. You loved them very much but they always loved you more.

Authors note- Thanks for reading I hoped you enjoyed this quick little blurb. Be sure to check out my other work 

[aviiarie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ SUBSTITUTE BIG BROTHER. platonic pm!dazai & reader !

synopsis. dazai is reduced to his lowest form: babysitter for chuuya's sibling. contents. PLATONIC. chuuya's younger sibling!reader. gn!reader. they/them pronouns used. fluff. 1.9k words. notes. dazai gets some fluff, as a treat. and as an apology for the amount of pain i am putting him through with the next thing in my drafts. ALSO this is an old, completed draft and was my first time writing dazai so apologies for any mischaracterization.

“You’re kidding me.” Dazai said dryly, staring at the kid before him. They met his gaze with a fiery glare, daring him to continue.

“Do you have something to say?” they snapped. Dazai raised an eyebrow. “Go on, spit it out.”

“I’m only wondering how that yappy little dog’s precious sibling managed to escape their kennel,” Dazai hummed, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards as they began to protest. They sounded just as furious as their brother; the resemblance amused him immensely. “Aren’t you supposed to be… anywhere but here?”

The question was out of courtesy more than anything; Dazai knew the answer very well. Chuuya was tight-lipped about almost every aspect of his life that wasn’t intertwined with the Port Mafia, but his sibling was one detail that Dazai had managed to squeeze out. It wasn’t voluntary, mind you. It was more that Chuuya was explaining his life before the Mafia to Kouyou during one of their evenings drinking tea together, and Dazai had started eavesdropping at the right moment.

When he casually dropped their name during a conversation a week later, Chuuya has gone still for only a moment, before shoving him against the nearest wall and holding a knife to his throat.

“How the fuck do you know about them?” Chuuya had hissed.

Dazai wheezed, for once caught off guard. He’d been expecting Chuuya to react emotionally, but the idea that he would resort to murder within seconds had somehow slipped his mind. “Perhaps Chuuya shouldn’t leave the door open if he doesn’t want his conversations being overheard. I’m sure Ane-san would agree, it was her conversation too.”

Chuuya turned white. His grip loosened, and Dazai slipped away from his grasp. “Shit.”

“Mhm!” Dazai said in a singsong voice, readjusting his collar. “So, tell me about them. How old are they?”

“I’m not talking to you about them, you bastard.” Chuuya tucked his knife away, shoving past Dazai with far more force than was necessary.

“Oh, come on,” Dazai whined childishly, but there was a dark glint in his eyes. “Would you prefer to talk to Boss about them?”

Chuuya’s face turned the prettiest shade of red. “You wouldn’t dare—”

“Of course, Chuuya wouldn’t keep such a key detail of his life hidden away for no reason.” Dazai interrupted. “And maybe I could find it in myself to omit said detail when the Boss questions me about where he’s been disappearing to, for a price, of course—”

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?” Chuuya scoffed. “Fine. I’ll owe you a favour, and in exchange you do not breathe a word of their existence to anyone. They don’t exist to you, got it?”

Even when trying to appear confident, there was still a note of anxiety in his tone. The mere mention of his sibling was enough to rattle him, it seemed. Dazai paused for a moment, letting Chuuya stew in his restlessness.

“Well? Do we have a deal, asshole?”

He agreed. He wouldn’t tell a soul about [Name], and Chuuya would postpone smothering him in his sleep until he had reasonable cause. Their little secret, Dazai called it—as if anything could stay secret from the Boss for long.

One of the prerequisites for making sure the Port Mafia never knew of their existence, was ensuring that they took careful steps to prevent contact with members of said Port Mafia. An easy way for that to be guaranteed was to avoid any and all places associated with the Mafia, to minimise the chances of bumping into any unsavoury types that might consider their relation to Chuuya to be a weakness to exploit.

All this to say: the last place they should be was right in the middle of Port Mafia territory.

Dazai sighed. “Chuuya will be mad that you’re here, you know.”

“Who even are you?” they asked, in lieu of an answer.

“I’m hurt!” he gasped, grasping at the front of his shirt like a Victorian woman clutching her pearls. “Is Chuuya so cruel that he never mentions his own partner?”

“Are you Dazai?” they asked, wrinkling their nose at him. “Chuuya won’t shut up about you. He thinks you’re really annoying.”

“Oh, the feeling is mutual.” He laughed. “What else does he say about me? Does he tell you about how I can shoot a gun better than he ever will? How one touch from me renders his ability useless? How I’ve beat him in every round of arcade games we have ever played together?”

“He actually said you were big-headed, but I think I could have gathered that myself.” They said dryly.

“Tch. Such a mean dog, spreading lies about me.” Dazai complained, but his mind was elsewhere. He eyed the rumpled state of their clothes and dark circles around their eyes. If they were desperate enough to ignore their brother’s warning to keep away while he was working, the matter must be urgent, and Dazai knew Chuuya would bite his head off if he left them alone in such a dangerous place.

“Why don’t we wait for your brother somewhere nicer than here?” Dazai suggested. “I know a place that isn’t too far, that we both frequent.”

“Am I being kidnapped?” They asked warily.

“Why would I want to kidnap someone as unpleasant as you?” Dazai scrunched his nose up at the thought. “Besides, I’m supposed to be helping keep your existence on the downlow. That becomes difficult if everyone in the Port Mafia catches wind of a strange young person asking for Chuuya.”

“They won’t,” they said, but their voice was doubtful.

Dazai turned, tucking his hands in his pockets and walking back the way he’d come. “Come on. It’s not a long walk.”

The lights and sounds of the arcade were a dull comfort on Dazai’s senses. A chime of the bell above the door greeted them both when they entered, the cashier looked up and gave them a nod.

“Have you been here before?” Dazai asked, and they shook their head. “Excellent! As your benevolent guide, I will be happy to show you around.”

“I thought we were waiting for my brother?” They squint at him suspiciously.

“Of course, but we might as well have fun while we're at it.” Dazai steered them over to the corner to the best machine in the arcade, the game that him and Chuuya had a running bet on who could beat.

It was a basic side-scrolling hack-and-slash game, with only four controls and very simple graphics. What made it stand out was not the game itself, but how infamously hard it was. The first few levels were easy, but once the game deemed the player had an adequate understanding of the controls and how the game worked, it would increase in difficulty until the player was left in an aggravatingly high-speed bullet hell that took an inhuman amount of dexterity to defeat.

There were 100 levels in total. Dazai—who had his initials permanently at the top of the high score board—had only manged to get past level 96.

“This is the best test of skill that this arcade offers.” Dazai slid a token into the machine and he was met with a title screen he had seen many times before. The tinny music came out of the speakers, cheerfully announcing the name of the game. The player character appeared—a little red and black silhouette of a person—as well as the first enemy.

“It's deceptively simple—”

Jump. Punch. Slide. Dodge.

It was a pattern, muscle memory that had settled into his fingers. His movements were precise and measured and not a second off the mark.

“—But it gets difficult.”

Jump. Dodge. Punch. Slide.

He was close. So close.

“If you just—”

Dodge. Punch. Slide. Dodge.

Level 97 appeared across the screen—the highest he’d ever gotten before.

“—Keep going...”

Dodge. Dodge. Slide. Punch—

Game over.

“...Ugh.”

Dazai slumped in his seat, miserably entering his initials into the high score again. Chuuya would be cursing his name if he knew that he had managed to once again overtake him, but he could hardly savour the thought when he wasn't there to witness it.

With a sigh, Dazai glanced over to [Name] beside him. They were watching the screen, but their foot was tapping against the ground in an uneven rhythm, and they were picking at the edges of their nails without even seeming to realize it.

The anxiousness had set in again, it seemed. Dazai cleared his throat. “Do you want to try?”

“...Alright.”

Somewhere between the first and twelfth round of games, he’d sent a short message to the contact in his phone labelled ‘Slug’.

come to the arcade. i have a surprise :P

And when that message was left on read, Dazai decided to clarify further with a second.

the surprise is [name] by the way.

By the time their thirteenth round finished and [Name] left to use the restroom, the doors were slamming open and a familiar person with red hair and wild eyes burst in. He scanned the room, locating Dazai’s bandaged self easily heading straight for him.

“Where are they?” he hissed, turning back and forth like they would appear beside him when he wasn’t looking.

“Who? I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about?” Dazai asked innocently, as if he had done anything innocent in a long time.

“Don’t mess around! Where the fuck is—”

“Chuuya.” A voice dripping with relief cut right through Chuuya’s rising yell. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“[Name]!” Chuuya spun around, the tension melting from his stance as he saw them. “Where were you? I got home and you weren’t there.”

“I was looking for you.” They glanced over to Dazai, and lowered their voice. The rest of their exchange was muffled under the sounds of beeping and chimes from the arcade machine. Throughout it, Dazai stood frozen watching the pair.t

“We’re leaving,” Chuuya said, after what felt like hours of whispering. “…Thank you for looking out for them today.”

“You thank me like I did it out of the goodness of my heart,” Dazai said with a laugh. “That’s one more favour Chuuya owes me now.”

“Bastard. See if I ever thank you for anything again.” Chuuya growled, turning on his heel and pulling his sibling along with him.

Dazai watched the pair leave, his eyes lingering on their retreating forms. It was unsettling how easily they molded to fit the other’s company; the way Chuuya unconsciously matched his steps to theirs, the way the tension melted from their shoulders the moment they laid eyes on him. Even the tone of Chuuya’s voice softened when he addressed them, which was a sight that Dazai didn’t think he was capable of.

Was this family? Did Dazai act this way long ago when he had a relatives of his own? He could hardly fathom reaching such a closeness with anyone, let alone a family. Was he even capable of such a thing, being the broken, shell of a being he was?

Dazai shook his head, ridding himself of the trivial thoughts clouding his mind. When he left, he left alone.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ touya-nii + his nasty habit of sneaking into your bedroom

character: todoroki touya | dabi warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest, noncon, a slight bit of degradation, implied size difference words: 1.2k

he’s always careful when he starts. careful when he creeps into your room in the middle of the night, sock clad feet quiet against the hardwood; careful to keep the doorhandles latch from catching on the strike plate as he closes it behind him; careful not to wake you as he slinks into your frilly little bed, knocking stuffed animals and extra pillows onto the floor, as he worms his way beneath your pink-piped comforter and slithers his hand between your silky thighs—ah, good girl, you’re not wearing those pesky sleep shorts, just like he told you not to (good little sisters only wear panties to bed; and sometimes, they don’t even wear those, he had informed you)—and then wiggles his fingers under your lacy undies.

that’s when he stops being careful. 

because he loves that sharp gasp of surprise, that sheer unadulterated bolt that courses through your body—shock in the purest, prettiest form—that jolts you from your blissful slumber almost violently; skin shuddering, eyes snapping open, when he shoves two dirty fingers into your ill-prepped cunt. 

it’s his favourite sound in the world, he swears it is, swears he would bottle it up and keep it close to his heart if he could, swears he would wear it around his neck like the cutest, daintiest little noose, tethering him to you. 

but this is the next best thing, he supposes. 

your eyes slip shut again, so tightly they crinkle the corners and furrow your brow, and a whine of his name spills from your lips; first in frustration, then again all wispy and dumb when he curls his knuckles against that plush spot buried deep inside of you—that spot he knows so well, that spot he discovered, then claimed as his own. 

yeah, not so irritated now, are ya, y’little brat. 

no, you’re not. you’re sighing out his name in time with the pumps of his fingers, all melty and stupid and oh-so-cute, knotted with his honorific and seeping into your lace-trimmed pillows in little threads of drool. you’re grinding your ass back against his hard cock as you pathetically hump his palm, indulging him as his hips rut into your plush flesh, pre-cum steadily leaking through his thin pyjama pants, staining plaid in dark wet patches.

“touya-nii,” you whimper, back arching a little, nipples peaked through the thin cotton of your camisole. “stop, stop.” 

this is the routine almost every time, practiced and perfected through night after night of rehearsals, and you play your part flawlessly; effortless and enticing and full of emphasis, because you know he gets off on it—the no!s and wait!s and don’t!s, sometimes spit from your lips, sometimes dribbling out the corner of your mouth, only heightening the whole sordid affair.

because you’re just as fucking sick as your big brother is. 

he can’t stop, don’t you know?

it’s all your fault, he’s telling you, voice caught somewhere between accusatory and mocking. if you weren’t such a slutty little tease, nii-chan wouldn’t have to do this. 

but it’s all just a game; he knows you love it just as much as he does, knows you’re just as depraved as he is, because your actions don’t match your words, you bad girl, the rolling of your hips encouraging the rocking of his own, one of your free hands threading itself over his and guiding it to your breast, bony knuckles pressing into a soft palm as his fingers flex around supple flesh.

if you didn’t love it, if you didn’t want it, then why would you prance around the house in those short, short little dresses? the ones that fan out when you twirl to your music in the living room or ride up when you bend over while cooking in the kitchen, gifting anyone within the immediate vicinity (your vile siblings and their prying eyes) a coveted glimpse of the silk and lace clinging delicately to your cheeks; the ones that are an inch or two too short to be considered wholly decent, and the ones Daddy has repeatedly told you to stop wearing around your big brothers—especially the eldest. 

“m’sorry, touya-nii, m’sorry, m’sorry.”

no, you’re not, but that’s okay. he isn’t, either. 

at least you have each other.

your other hand snakes between your tensing thighs, cupping his own, little fingers layering larger ones as they try to speed up his motions, push his digits deeper, fuck you harder, give you more. 

these trysts never last long enough, though; no matter how hard he tries to lengthen them, to savour them, you’re both too eager, too hungry for one another, cumming too quickly in the dead of night as your bodies tremble together, as names shatter on tongues in sharp whispers and limbs seize and tangle and fuse into one.

it’s always so fucking messy, your cunt clenching around your conjoined fingers, slick dribbling down his knuckles in thick dollops to pool in his hand, to settle in the lines of his palm and streak his inner wrist in pretty shimmering streams.

it’s always so fucking messy, his grunts hot and humid against the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to the crown of your head as his cock throbs, filling flannel with copious amounts of burning, sticky cum—so much it seeps through the material to soak your scrunched panties, so much it dries in a hard glaze, welding lace to your ass. 

you don’t ever dare to wash it off, clean it away, eradicate the evidence, instead allowing each other’s pleasure to stain your skins, wearing it like a mark of honour, a claim of ownership, barely visible when it dries into something firm and translucent, but there nonetheless. 

his fingertips continue to flutter against that swollen spot until ripples of overstimulation are shuddering through your flesh, until your little hand is wreathing around his syrupy wrist and nails are biting into his flesh and tugging, tears beginning to bead your lashes.

only then does he chuckle and pull his hand free, knuckles hooking in an attempt to scrape your walls, a heavy coat of your arousal glistening on his fingers. 

“you cum so fucking much for your big brother,” he growls in your ear, lips wet against the cartilage, voice tapering off into a whine. “look at how wet you get for me.” 

two of his fingers flatten against your cheek and then swipe, slow and hard and thorough, smearing a thick film of your slick across your face, from the tip of your temple to the corner of your mouth, back and forth and back and forth until it’s been rubbed into your skin. 

callused fingertips push past your parted lips, weighing down on your tongue and cramming themselves into your throat, forcing you to taste yourself—to taste him, painted in you; spicy nicotine and heady salt.

“you’re fucking disgusting,” he pants out, but his pupils are gaping, watching as your gorge yourself on your big brother’s flesh, lips puckering and cheeks hollowing as your tongue curls around his knuckles and tries to siphon him further down your throat. 

a whine splinters in his chest as he pulls his extremities free from your voracious grip, slathered in spit, viscous cords strung between his knuckles as he spreads them apart. 

“yeah, you’re real fucking sick, y’know that?” 

“you made me like this, nii-chan,” you breathe out dreamily, already drifting back into sleep’s welcoming embrace, body going lax in his arms and snuggling back against his chest. 

yeah, he fucking did. 

and neither of you would have it any other way. 

[thestarrynightslover]

Maybe We Could Do It Again

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 4,632

Warnings: bickering and fluff.

Summary: Jay meets the Reader as they’re both babysitting Makayla for Adam and Kim and they end up tangled up on the ground and kissing.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Okay, so this is one of the longest fics I’ve written, which might be a little too long but I hope you guys like it and feel free to send feedback! By the way, this is the first time I insert Burzek in one of my fics but I think I got their energy right ;)

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

“Oh my God, Adam! I can’t believe that even when you’re not supposed to do something you get it wrong!” Kim yelled at her boyfriend.

“What the hell-” He even tried to respond but got immediately interrupted for his bad language.

“Adam!” She hissed again, not believing how he could still curse so much now that the two of them had a child in the house.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said, nervously raising his hands, as Kim already peeked through the kitchen doors to see Jay and Makayla pretend like they hadn’t been listening to every word of their conversation in the living room. “It’s just… I remember you specifically telling me to find someone to babysit the kid, so I did it! How is it possible that I’m the one who-”

“Yes! I did ask you two to do that! On Monday! And do you remember what you told me?” He didn’t dare to say anything. “Oh, no? Because I do! I remember you saying, and I quote:” she said, even making finger quotes to emphasize the whole thing, “‘Where the hell am I supposed to find a babysitter for Makayla? None of my friends have any experience with kids!’” Kim shoved it in his face, making a very good point for herself. But, as usual, Adam decided to go against any sign of good judgment and continue to defend himself. He knew he could never let Kim in on it, but Jay himself was one of those who had already heard the officer saying how much he loved bickering with his girlfriend and getting her all fired up against him.

“No, uh! That won’t cut it! You told me, and I quote: ‘Then hire someone! I don’t know! But you’re the one who came up with the date night idea, so don’t come and throw something that should be your responsibility on my shoulders!’, so I knew that I needed to find someone! Kev and Vanessa are visiting his siblings this weekend, so I thought: why not Jay? He’s good with kids, and he offered to help us with Makayla!” Adam concluded, absolutely proud of himself while Kim just rolled her eyes.

“Oh. My. God!!! You do know he didn’t mean that literally, don’t you?” She was already fuming by that point.

“Err-” He had to admit that he’d never stopped to think about that possibility…

“No one means that literally!!” She shouted, this time, making even the neighbors hear their arguing. “No one means that literally, and, now, you’re just making us both look like the cops who can’t take care of their own kid in front of the entire unit.” She stated, in a lower, tone while pinching the bridge of her nose.

“But this is not the entire unit! This is Jay! Our friend Jay, who had offered!” Adam stood by that argument and Kim had already opened her mouth to shoot a remark back when Jay came into the kitchen.

“Makayla’s distracted with the tv.” He started with that so that they wouldn’t be worried. “Uh... Guys, Kim, you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about this, okay? I won’t. Besides, I did mean what I said before. I’m here to help. Whatever you guys need. Plus, for someone who had plans of watching a game rerun alone at home on a Friday night, babysitting that cute little girl is almost like hitting a jackpot!” Jay assured, giving them a small smile and shiny eyes headed towards Makayla’s direction. Babysitting a kid, when he was probably never gonna have one of his own, was one of the things that he, personally, missed the most about when Will and Natalie were together. Back when Lindsay lived in Chicago, he used to be sure that, someday, he was gonna find someone. Settle down. Build a family. But, now… After everything that had happened, he couldn’t help but feel like his time to do all that had run out. So, instead of mooning over it, he could gladly babysit Makayla.

“Well, um, thank you, Jay,” Kim started, nervously tucking a string of hair behind her ear, “that’s really nice to hear. And we very much appreciate it. But-” She didn’t get a chance to finish as the doorbell rang and Adam rushed towards the apartment’s entrance to prevent his very excited little girl from opening the door by herself. When he got there, followed by the other two adults, Makayla was already standing on her tiptoes, hand-in-handle.

“Hey! Watcha doing, you little adventurous?!” Adam asked while picking her up from the floor and tickling her sides, which made her become a giggling mess. “You can’t just open the door like that, darlin’! You gotta check on the peephole first,” he said, as he lifted her up enough so that she could look through the hole, “like this. See someone?”

“Yes! It’s (y/n/n)!” She squealed out. “Can we open the door now? Please, Adam?” Makayla asked, shooting him pleading eyes, while her body buzzed with happiness.

“Ah, (y/n/n), right,” Adam said simply, opening the door and fearing that Kim would want to restart the whole discussion with him.

“Hey, princess!” And that simple greeting was all it took for Makayla to throw herself from Adam’s arms straight to yours. “Wow,” you laughed at her sudden movement, which had caused you to lose your balance a little, “you excited to see me?”

“Yes!! Did you bring the bakings???” She asked you eagerly, bakings being what she called your cooking utensils.

“No, not today!” Your answer made her face, almost immediately, turn into a sad frown. “But I brought this!” You told her while lifting up a box that read ‘karaoke set’, above a few drawings of a microphone and musical notes. Seeing that, Makayla’s saddened expression shifted in two seconds, eyes lighting up.

“Look, Kim!” The little girl shrieked, more than ready to have what she already knew was about to be the time of her life.

“Yeah, I see that! Seems like you girls are gonna have a blast…” Your friend weirdly trailed off, as her mind tried to find a quick solution to the mess her boyfriend had made.

“Uh…” Was all that a very handsome man you hadn’t met yet managed to let out.

“Jay, um, this is my best friend (y/n). (y/n/n), this is our friend from work Jay. I’m sorry about the mess, guys, it’s Adam’s fault.” Kim spoke again, bluntly accusing her boyfriend.

“My fault??? Are you kidding??? You told me to find someone to watch Makayla 'cause you didn’t want us to keep bothering (y/n)!”

“Guys! It’s no bother at all, really. Hanging out with this little princess is in my best interest, believe me!” You said, quickly defending your case.

“Well, thanks for saying that, (y/n/n). What happened here is that Adam told me he wouldn’t be able to get anyone,” Kim started while shooting daggers into her boyfriend with her bare eyes. “So, since I wasn’t about to just wait for a miracle, I called and asked you to do it. But someone didn’t think about telling me that he had already gotten Jay to come. And now you’re both here, ugh!” She finished, rather dramatically, while pointing a finger at Adam.

That was, seriously, the best couple you knew when it came to bickering.

“Okay, so, um, it’s not gonna be any trouble. I can leave since your colleague got here first and you don’t need to be stressed on your date night, friend.” You tried to bring things to a peaceful ending before Kim turned it into a murder scene.

“Oh, I do need to be stressed! I need to-” She started to debate but got cut off by Makayla’s cute pleading voice:

“But you can’t leave, (y/n/n)! We’re gonna play karaoke!” The little girl clearly had already gotten worked up by your idea for the night.

“Makayla, baby, please don’t be difficult. You hang out with (y/n/n) all the time, and uncle Jay is already here…” You watched as Adam tried to reason with his daughter while she held you really tight.

“No, uh…” Their friend started to say. Was it too weird for you to be thinking about how incredibly cute he looked when scratching the back of his neck like that? “Relax, man, I can go. I bet that you’re gonna have a lot more fun with her than with me, anyways, Mak.” He completed, talking to your little friend with a sweet smile, to which she reacted with a confused frown.

“But- but why does Jay have to leave? Can’t he play karaoke with us, (y/n/n)?” Makayla asked you poutingly.

“Now that’s something I’d like to see!” Adam started to mock but stopped when Kim punched him in the arm. “Ouch! That hurt, you know?”

“I know! That was exactly the result I was hoping for!” She squealed out sarcastically, “Makayla, honey, you can’t just ask both (y/n/n) and Jay to play karaoke, of all things, with you.” It was lovely to watch Kim interacting so patiently with her kid but the young girl still didn’t seem to understand.

“But why???”

“Well, they don’t know each other, Makayla.” Kim tried again but Mak still wasn’t ready to give it up.

“But they know me!” 

“Good luck explaining now, ma.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, all of you 𑁋 Adam himself included 𑁋 knew what was coming, fortunately, Kim just punched him in the arm again.

“You know, guys, you don’t need to fight over something like this, okay? Uh… Since he’s your coworker, I’m gonna assume that he’s one of the good guys, therefore I wouldn’t really have a problem with hanging out with him…” You said because you were never one to say no to little kids. “I mean if that’s okay with you, too, officer…”

“It’s detective, actually. But you can call me Jay, uh, (y/n), right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well, I don’t have any problems with hanging out with you either,” Jay said and, Jesus, was that really his smile? “I mean, Mak should get all the babysitters she wants!” He told her with a wink. It was official. You were so done for the night.

“Ha!” Kim nervously let out a laugh, “let’s go easy there, cowboy! You can’t just come into my house offering the kid everything she wants.”

“Okay, okay,” the detective started to say with a gesture of surrender while the couple started to get out of the house to give you the space to properly go in. “Sorry ‘bout that, ma!” You could have sworn that you saw him tremble 𑁋 just a little 𑁋 under the deadly gaze your friend sent his way. Adam, who seemed to be off the hook for the first time that night, took the moment to laugh and hope that his girl would forget she had been so mad at him.

“C’mon, darling. Let’s get going before we decide it isn’t very safe to leave Mak with those two.”

"Yeah… I'm already deciding that but maybe they'll prove us wrong." Kim said, voice absolutely faithless. "You behave, Makayla!"

"It's more than obvious that she's going to be the best tonight. Get outta here already!" You heard Jay yelling a little in response to her, as you and Makayla started to get the karaoke set up.

But you, being the lucky person you were, obviously couldn't find your way around your friend's old stuff.

"Uh, you need any help there?"

“No! No, not all! Um, I got this!” You quickly responded because you could be pretty skeptical when it came to admitting your weaknesses and, from your point of view, not getting a simple karaoke set to work was a huge one.

“Alright, then…”

“Are you sure you don’t want Jay to help, (y/n/n)?” Mak asked, sounding way more reasonable than you, the actual adult there.

“Um, err, I guess maybe I could use some help… It’s just that this TV setup is quite different from mine…” You said, still unwilling to let how confused you were really show.

“Yeah, I can help!” you heard Jay as he left his spot in the corner of the room. “I was just ordering us pizza but I can totally help out 'cause Adam and I actually shopped for these TVs together, so I have the same one!” He said, this time, already gently getting the device from your hands before you could even react, which was probably him sensing that you wouldn’t give it up so easily, like he could see right through you.

“Okay, well, since you already ordered the pizza, I’ll go make us some juice.” As you said that you got both of your companions making weird faces at you, so you amended: “Or not, because you already ordered soda too… Just keep in mind that if Kim gets mad because of all the junk food that kid is eating, I’m telling on you, detective!” You said, making a point to stare right into his eyes 𑁋 God, they were so beautiful, was there nothing but beauty in this man’s body?

“Okay, so I think we’re all good here with the karaoke! Who wants to go first?” Hearing that you came of your very dangerous thoughts and Makayla jumped up and down, screaming:

“Me! Me! Me!”

“Alright, little lady, then come pick a song!” Jay told her and stood by to help her with her choice.

About three hours later all three of you had already sung your hearts out 𑁋 Jay having had gone for ABBA, which surprised you and Mak, to say the least 𑁋 eaten lots of pizza, drunk lots of soda and had begun watching a movie, cause you told Jay that that always did the trick when it came to Mak falling asleep. But, God, it was hard to pay attention to the movie you were supposed to be watching when sitting next to a guy like that. And he wasn’t just really handsome. He was sweet and kind and funny. Also, he was so good with Makayla. It was like everything you’d always imagined the perfect man being like was right there, reunited in the detective’s goof self. But you couldn't be thinking those thoughts about him. Not when he was so close. And definitely not when your best friend's daughter was lying on both of your laps.

So, in order to calm your thoughts for a minute, you gently put Makayla’s head on a cushion as you got up 𑁋 because she was already asleep 𑁋, and said I’m gonna get started on cleaning over there.” It was indeed necessary since Mak had dropped all of the content of a big ice cream container near the dining table, the ice cream being very sticky and sort of liquid 𑁋 which was obviously beyond your understanding but who were you to judge Kim and her preferences? 

"Oh God, lemme help you!" You heard Jay saying, as he quickly made his way from the corridor over to where you were cleaning the floor, by the dining table.

"Ah, there's no need for it. I'm used to spending time with Mak, and, then, cleaning up before Kim sees it." You told him with a sly smile.

"Ha! Well, I don't doubt it! You're really good with her."

"And she's really good at making giant messes."

"Right." He said, chuckling lightly. "But, this time, I bet you felt like there were two kids, huh?"

"Your words, not mine, detective."

"Anyways, I'll help. Don't tell Kim and Adam, cause they might spread it across the district, but I'm actually pretty good at cleaning. Especially, when compared to someone who's doing such a lousy job." At that, you instantly snapped your head in his direction.

"What did you just say?" You asked, pretending to be mad while standing up and raising your sponge, as if it was a weapon you were threatening him with.

"Uh… Uh, d- did you know that pulling a weapon on a cop is a crime?" He asked, trying to play along, but stuttering a little.

"And what are you gonna do?" Now that Makayla was asleep… "Huh? Arrest me?" Jesus Christ, you definitely weren't thinking straight, you thought as you watched Jay drop his mop, also spilling all the soapy water on the floor. He even motioned to take care of it but stopped when he realized that you were, now, standing closer. Closer than it was safe for him to be near a woman like you. So he decided to take a step backward, not remembering the floor situation and slipping. As a reflex, you grabbed his shirt when you were obviously not gonna be able to prevent him from falling.

So, you ended up falling with him. On top of him. Oh God, was that living room always so hot? Your thoughts were cut off by Jay's laugh, it was an open-mouthed laugh, just like when you two were interacting with Makayla. He didn't seem to be the kind of guy who got to laugh too much, especially given his job. But it definitely suited his features. His smile, that bright, was so beautiful.

"So you're seriously not even gonna try and get up? Just gonna stay there staring?" Hearing that, you blushed instantly, because you hadn't even realized you were staring.

"Ah, uh… Right." Now, that was your turn to stutter, and Jay was loving every second of it. He thought you looked absolutely adorable like that. Even more so than you had looked all night.

But you weren't feeling adorable at all. You were embarrassed. By the situation at hand, sure, but, also, by your entire behavior that had, pretty much, gotten the two of you in that position. What was going through your head? The answer was simple: nothing. Or, better yet, Jay's gorgeous face, body, and behavior. Just, Jay being gorgeous all night. Now, what really made you wanna dig a hole and jump right into it was when you tried to get up but the floor was so slippery that you just fell back on him.

Needless to say, he was having a playfield. Laughing like there was no tomorrow. In fact, he had relaxed completely under you, laying his head on the soaked floor.

"You know what? This is pretty comfortable. I think I'll stay right here." It was official: you had no self-shame.

"Are you serious?" He asked, trying hard to hold back from laughing.

"Look, I don't know what else to do, okay? And my brain is clearly affected by your little charm, because I just keep mortifying myself over and over-"

"So you think I'm charming, huh?" Damn it. A thousand times damn it.

"Uh… That's not exactly what I-" You couldn't finish your sentence, as Jay started pulling you even closer to him. Kissing you. Oh boy, how he kissed you…

"Oh. My. God." Both you and Jay jumped away from each other, as much as you could, the second you heard Kim say that, her being followed suit by Adam:

"What the hell is that?!?" He half-asked, half-barked at the both of you, trying hard to not burst into laughter.

"Uh, it's, um, it's not what you're thinking, guys-"

"It's not what I'm thinking?!?" Yeah… It was safe to say that Kim was pissed. "Are you sure it isn't? Because the image actually seemed pretty self-explanatory to me!" As the both of you just kept working out a way to get up from the floor, she continued: "I come back home thinking that everything was gonna be perfect because my daughter had two adults babysitting her! People that I thought were quite responsible but, then, I come home to find those very adults making out on the floor in my living room! My very dirty living room! And, by the way, where the hell is Makayla?"

"She, um, she's in her bedroom. Asleep." Jay finally spoke. "And, about the mess… We were just, uh…"

"Yeah, man, we saw what you were just doing," Adam said, looking like he was having the time of his life.

"No! That's not what he was gonna say-"

"Ah, so the two of you got along so well that now you even know what he was going to say, (y/n)?" Kim said, while glaring at you.

"All I meant was that, well, the place got a little dirty…" Jay started to explain but not fast enough.

"A little???" Kim was really, really mad, you realized.

"But dinner was great!" At that, both you and Kim just stared at him incredulously while Adam started laughing on his way to the kitchen.

"That's what you were going to say???" You ask him, not believing you'd just tried to defend him for some joke. "Kim, I'm sorry things ended up this unfruitful…" You began to tell your best friend, to try and patch things up, when Adam chipped in from the other room.

"You know, darling, Jay wasn't wrong! This pizza is great!" He barked, mouth full. And that's what got Kim to go over the edge.

"Don't you realize what just happened here, Adam??? And, you two! I still haven't heard an explanation on what the hell I just saw!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry! We were cleaning up and then it just-"

"It just what, (y/n)??? It just happened? That what you were gonna say?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, it is! It just happened because you and your boyfriend made me babysit with this ridiculously hot guy and I'm human! Now, before you have another crisis, Makayla didn't see anything and I'm leaving because I just humiliated myself more than enough for a lifetime!" With that said, and your flight or flee instinct activated — cause you were never much of a fighter —, you did the smartest thing possible and stormed out of there, hoping to be able to get into some sort of protection program for embarrassment victims.

Meanwhile, Adam and Kim simply had to laugh, even more so when they noticed Jay's shocked twinkling expression.

"Jay! What is wrong with you?" Kim asked, taking him out of his daze.

"What?"

"Go after her! If I hadn't been so upset about the circumstances, I would've been the first one to say that what happened over there?" She asked, pointing to the floor. "What happened there was hot." The officer finished her trail of thought bluntly, as if it was the most obvious thing.

"But… What about your living room?" Jay asked, still unsure of what to do.

"Are you kidding me? Look, Halstead, if you promise not to break her heart… I won't hold it against you." Kim stated, making her stance on the whole matter very clear. She thought it was a good way to start apologizing to you after freaking out like that.

"Uh, uh, alright!" The detective rambled, looking like he had no idea of what to do next.

“Go!” With that last push, he left his friends’ house to go try and get the girl.

“You know, this is quite a mess but they do have the potential to be a great couple!” Adam happily pointed out, as he kept eating all he could find.

“Ha! If she’s as lucky as I am…” Kim ironically muttered, as she watched her boyfriend impolitely shoving food in his mouth.

“Then she’s a very lucky lady!” He confidently stated with a grin while all Kim could do was laugh at his messy childish ways.

Outside burzek's apartment — burzek being the ship name you used to tease Kim and Adam with —, you had been slowly walking towards the subway. You wanted to move faster but your mind was too full at the moment. And, sometimes, when you needed to get your head back on straight, you couldn't really do anything else, having a hard time concentrating on your flow of thoughts.

It was right when you were beginning to think you had stopped the spirals in your mind that you heard him: "(y/n)!" You recognized the detective's voice on the spot. How could you not, after how he had managed to disrupt your thoughts and actions all evening? But you weren't about to turn back around and have your very own movie ending with him. You just knew it wasn't gonna play out like that and decided to keep walking in order to preserve the little dignity you still had. "Oh, c'mon! Just give me a minute! Please!" That pleading made you turn around, to let him down more politely, which ended up with the two of you almost hitting each other. Once again, that same night, he was too close to you. The proximity with his body sending all sorts of heatwaves through yours. He seemed to be feeling it too, given the way he started to look at you, the damn smirk back on his lips.

"Nu-uh. You don't get to look at me like that. Not after what it did to me the first time."

"Huh. Care to elaborate on that? How exactly am I looking at you?" He asked, moving even closer to you altogether. "And, more importantly, what exactly did it do to you?"

"You don't need me to answer any of that." You pointed out, crossing your arms over your chest — clearly going into defensive mode.

"Maybe not," he started, tilting his head slightly — the damn smirks never leaving his face. "But. I'd like to hear it nevertheless."

"Well, you're not going to."

"Ah, okay." Wait, was he really giving up that easily? "Then maybe I can just try and see what it does to you one more time? For the sake of curiosity." All you could think to say was an enthusiastic 'Yes, please!' but, when he started leaning in to kiss you, you seemed to come back to your senses, pushing him away and taking some steps back of your own.

"Oh my God! Don't you get it? We can't be doing this right now. Not after the way I left things with Kim because of our previous, um, actions!" At that, Jay just gave you a confused look. "I stormed out of there but just because I was feeling too ashamed about it all and I honestly don’t think that I want any more embarrassment for a lifetime.

“Okay, okay. I get that but maybe it would feel less embarrassing for you if you knew that I was feeling all of that too: all of that buzzing energy and the goddamn butterflies and everything. You were doing exactly the same I did to you to me. And, as embarrassing as it was to be caught like that by Adam and Kim, I still can’t say I regret any of it. In fact, I was thinking that maybe we could do it again? You know, minus all the mess and the kid 𑁋 I mean, I adore Mak but that would be-” 

You didn’t care to listen to the rest of all he had to say. Instead, you threw yourself into his arms, even making him lose his balance for a second, and started kissing him, except that this time it was a slow, hot, and thought-through kiss. And the second you did kiss him, you heard clapping and whistling from afar, as you turned to find Kim and Adam there, once again witnessing you and Jay kiss. And that had Jay whispering to you:

“Let’s get out of here?” To which you responded simply with a:

“Yes, please!”

[rowiewritesstuff]

Hi! Can I request poly hcs of yandere bayverse Optimus Prime & Megatron with fem reader. Could you possibly add some fluff? Thank you, love ur blog! 💕✨

Bayverse Poly! Yandere Optimus Prime X Reader X Megatron

A little longer than I meant, oops-

You’re Sam Witwickey’s sibling. You were more well-read than your brother, and much more polite. When Sam said that he was going to sell your great-great grandfather’s glasses, you were appalled. You immediately snatched them away from him. 

“These are antique! So are these!” You snatched other items up. “You can’t sell them, bozo!” 

“But I need the money! For the car!” Sam tried to grab them back. 

“What if I paid for a portion of it?” 

Sam halted his movements. “What?” 

You huffed. “I’ll pay for some of the car- but YOU have to make sure to give me rides sometime.”

“YES!” He coughed, “I mean, yeah. Sure. You’re my sibling, of course you’d get rides.” 

Then it happened- you met the Decepticons on the way to get the glasses fixed up. You dropped them off at the small antique shop and began your walk home.

A patrol car’s lights went off next to you, and you pulled off to the side into an alleyway. What shocked you the most, however, was when it transformed into a literal robot. You felt dizzy and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

“Frag.” Barricade muttered, pressing his servo to his helm. “Barricade to Starscream. I have the human, but they are unconscious.” 

“Bring them to me.” Starscream ordered.

Before Barricade could respond, a loud honk echoed around the alley and a semi slammed into him. Optimus quickly transformed and snatched you off the ground, handing you off to Bumblebee. “Get them to safety!” 

Bumblebee drove off with you in tow, and Sam quickly shook you awake. “Sam?” You asked. “What happened?” You suddenly remembered the giant robot that had forced you into the alleyway. “The robot-!” 

“Yeah, there’s a few of them. I’ll explain in a bit- where are the glasses?” 

“Back at the antique shop… why?”

Right after you went back to grab the glasses, you met the others. The situation was explained to you, and you were scared. You just wanted to go home and sleep. Unfortunately, as soon as you got home, people from ‘sector seven’ were there to take you away. 

You sat crying in the backseat as Sam and Mikela tried to comfort you. “It’ll be okay, (Y/N).”

“No it won’t!” Simmons said from the front seat. “Not unless you tell us what you kn-” 

The car slammed forward. Optimus ripped off the roof of the car. “Taking the children and (Y/N) was a bad move.” 

Optimus scooped you up to sit you on his shoulder, holding their weapons on the aggressors the entire time. 

When Sam and Mikela got taken, you stayed with Optimus. Once you all discovered where the allspark was, the Autobots began the journey there- you in tow. You wanted to go home, but Optimus wouldn’t let you. He said it was too dangerous to let you go back home.

During the trip, you and Optimus talked a lot. You both got to know each other really well. Despite it only being a few days, you developed a crush on him. 

During the battle, Optimus gave you and Sam an order- push the Allspark into his chest, and kill him. You shook your head as Sam moved to do as he was told. 

“NO, SAM!” You snatched it away. You looked at Megatron and brought the cube near him. 

A wicked grin appeared on his faceplates, and he held his servo out. “Good, yes, human! Bring it to me!”

A sadness painted your face. Yes, Megatron was evil- but you never wanted to take a life. “I”m sorry,” You whispered. Megatron’s face contorted in rage as you shoved the allspark into his chest. 

Before he died, he looked into your eyes. “I’ll get you for this, human!”

You never recovered from taking a life. Optimus was thankfully there for you, and you both grew extremely close. You were one of the few civilians permitted on the base, often helping out. Your official title was ‘liaison’. Even Galloway liked you. 

You were visiting Sam when the Decepticon attacked. You were all running for your lives, with you not understanding a thing of what was going on. Mikela’s car was swept up into the air by a helicopter. You were screaming loudly as it took you all away, and screamed even louder when the car was dropped through a roof and sawed into. 

Everyone stood up as Starscream spit at you. A deep voice came from behind you all. “Come here, boy.” Megatron hissed. Sam began walking towards him with his hands up. “Closer.” 

“Sam, no.” You whispered in fear. Megatron’s eyes met yours for the first time since you took his life. Your body froze as still as you could make it. 

Before you could say anything Megatron grabbed you up from where you were standing and held you in his servo. Sam yelled out your name. “SHUT UP!” Megatron yelled and slapped Sam across the room. 

“SAM!” You and Mikela shouted in fear. “Don’t hurt him! Please!” You begged. 

Megatron simply ignored you and pinned Sam down with his over servo. “It feels good to grab your flesh. I’m going to kill you. Slowly- painfully- but first, we have some delicate work to do.” Sam kept struggling as Megatron mocked him. “Ohhh, I could snap your limbs off.”

You struggled in the servo you were tightly held in. “Wait! It was me that killed you, so let him go! He didn’t do anything!”

Megatron squeezed you tighter in his grasp. “Oh, I have something much better planned for you. Now wait your turn.” You struggled to breath as the air left your lungs. Just before you passed out, he loosened his grip. It was a warning- if you weren’t quiet, he’d knock you out.

You watched in horror as a minicon send a small bug into Sam’s mouth. You had to look away in fear you’d throw up from the sight. In your mind you were hoping for Optimus to find you, to save you.

Your prayers were answered as Optimus and Bumblebee came slamming through into the building firing off shots. Megatron quickly stashed you in his subspace and began fighting Optimus. 

You were thrown around in the tight space and you hoped that Optimus would figure out you were in there. Sounds were muffled, but you could make out sounds of blasting. Soon enough, the sounds faded. The subspace opened and you were taken out into the sunlight. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they did your heart stopped in your chest. 

On the ground before you was Optimus- a giant hole in his chest. He was obviously dead. You felt tears well up in your eyes as a wail left your throat.

“You’re mine now, human. Optimus will never be able to save you again.” 

Megatron took you with him to his hideout. He was originally going to use you to make Sam come out of hiding, but he soon realized why Optimus kept you around. You were smart for your race, and offered fairly good advice (even if said advice was forced out with the threat of violence). The Fallen left you alone, seeing the logic in a living hostage. 

In your short time there, Megatron had begun to grow feelings for you. He didn’t bother denying them- he was a Decepticon. If there was something he wanted, he’d take it. 

After his defeat and the Fallen’s death in Egypt, Megatron offered Optimus a deal he couldn’t pass up. 

“Why don’t we share them? Frag this war, and just hide away?” 

Optimus glared at him. “Do you really expect me to believe you?” 

Megatron chuckled. “You can either accept it, or never see them again, Prime.”

Optimus had no choice but to accept. They hid out on a small island, inhabited with nothing but animals. You were protected as long as you were with them. You also had plenty of books, food, and water. Anything you asked for, except your freedom, was given to you. 

However, at night, when everyone was resting, you were building a raft. You had a book that they gave you that had some basic instructions. When you set off, the raft was surprisingly sturdy. Your supplies were enough to last for a few days- hopefully when you would find someone to help you. 

When you heard the familiar sound of a jet, tears filled your eyes. You shouldn’t have even bothered to try. Megatron scooped you up and brought you back. When you got there, Optimus was waiting with a horrible glare on his face. 

“Where did you think you were going?” He growled. 

Tears fell before you could stop them. “I just wanted to see my family! My friends!” 

Optimus and Megatron felt a smidgen of guilt. Megatron held you closer as Optimus lifted your chin to make you look at him, a gentle smile on his faceplates. “And you will see them,” he petted your hair a little, “When you learn to behave. I can’t allow them to take you from me-”

“Us.” Megatron growled. 

Optimus glanced at him and back to you. “Us. You are ours. We won’t let you get away.”

Megatron chimed in with a sadistic grin on his faceplates. “If you ever try again, I’ll lock you away so you’ll never see the sun again. Understand?” 

All you could do is nod as a soft smile came to Optimus’ faceplates. “Good.” 

[lovlidollie]

on the random feyd hcs you just posted. Do you think Feyd would ever fuck his wife infront of everyone like in the orgy? Or like anything like that? And like how would that be likeee

ooooo i like this ! okay so this is going one of three ways me thinks ..

1. if you’re his wife then it’s a definite no. he’s a possessive freak ! he’s not against pda, in fact he loves it. feyd loves kissing you and groping you in public, especially around people that look at you like you’re something to eat (only he gets to eat you thank you very much.). but fucking you is a special type of intimacy that he’s decided only he gets to witness. if it’s a party, the most he’d do is touch you suggestively, make you squirmy and sensitive. he wants to watch you get desperate and stupid for him, knowing that you know he’s not going to do anything with everyone there. feyd and you always end up leaving parties and events early with the plan of fucking in his bed, but you guys barely make it out before he drags you into an alcove and shoves his thick fingers in your weepy hole.

2. now, we all know feyd and rabban have a bit (understatement of the century) of sibling rivalry. “beast” rabban is always chosen over him, always given the better spoils. he was bigger, physically stronger. when they were younger, rabban was the bully, beating feyd up when he didn’t know how to fight, making fun of him and spreading rumours. feyd’s first kiss was with an older girl, a daughter of one of the guards; he was twelve when it happened. that same night rabban had called him into his chambers where feyd was forced to watch his older brother fuck his first kiss. anyone feyd had an interest in from then on was taken away from him, stolen out of his grasp by a beast. but not you. say it’s an arranged marriage. while feyd wasn’t happy at the start, he’s grown a fixation on you. you’re his and his alone and nothing can change that. out of pure jealousy and resentment, feyd sedates rabban one night and ties him to a chair. he then splits you open on his cock right in front of his brother. it’s a way of staking his claim on you, a way of showing rabban that you were his. feyd would play with you for hours, making you cum on his cock, his face, his fingers, his boots. he’d make you squirt everywhere, make you cum so hard you pass out with your tight hole still gripping onto him. he’d kill rabban before he could ever touch you. you were his possesion, his pet, his pretty doll. you were the best thing he could ever have. he touches you all night, ignoring rabban’s enraged growls and how he strains against the chair. feyd’s showing him everything he can’t, and never will have.

3. if you were just a fling or some girl that he’s hit it off with during one of his parties, he’d 100% fuck you in front of everyone like a whore. he has no connection to you, doesn’t know who you are and frankly doesn’t care. feyd would fuck you hard and fast, it would feel good but you’d know it’s all about him. he wouldn’t make you cum, at least he wouldn’t put any effort into it. his goal is to cum in a wet, warm hole, nothing else. you of course would get off on how he’s treating you as a fucktoy and how everyone else is watching him ruin you.

[sister-cna-reader]

DC x DP

“Do you know anyone willing to date a ghost-touched woman over 6ft tall?” 

Barbara Gordon blinked slowly at the lanky teenager who asked the question. His arms were full of astronomy books and he was leaning in close as if it was a serious question. 

“It depends? I’m a librarian, not a matchmaker.” she replied, holding her hands out for the books to scan. “Why are you asking? It’s an awfully specific criteria.” 

Daniel Nightingale was the name of the boy before her. Just registered in the library system a little under 3 months ago. 17 years old and with that black hair, sky blue eyes and scars on the hand partially covered by a fingerless glove- Wayne adoption bait. 

“My older sister is great and all.” he said, fidgeting with his sleeves, “But I think she needs to live a little you know? She’s so.. So….” he made a compressing motion with his hands, like packing a snowball. 

“Repressed?” Barbara suggested, scanning the book on the Hubble Telescope. 

With a snap of his fingers he grinned. “Exactly! Now if only I could find a guy for her that is ghost-touched…” he muttered under his breath.  

“What do you mean by ‘ghost- touched’?” 

“Oh you know,” he mimicked the paddles of a defibrillator, “Clear!” he chuckled. 

Did this lady have a heart attack? Heart problems? 

“I died but it didn’t stick, so someone who is like me would be good. Then we wouldn’t have to explain the whole thing.” 

“Oh, I see.” the redhead said, not understanding much at all. “Due date for the books is in one month. I’ll keep an eye out for your sister?” 

Danny nodded and gathered all the books into a beat up backpack. “You can’t miss her. Long red hair, super tall, looks like she’ll either have a nervous breakdown or murder someone if you bump into her.” 

Barbara could only nod in agreement to the boy as he seemed to float out of Gotham Public Library. 

~~

Jazz was ready to shove her little not-quite-dead brother into the Fenton Thermos. She was doing well at her counseling position at the University, but Danny had insisted that her newfound hours of free time should be used in romantic pursuits.

“If you had friends you hung out with I won’t pester you. But Jazz! You need to do something fun!” He had said from the kitchen counter, hair glowing and eyes like two green beacons. “Live a little! We’re already part dead! Let go!” 

So she trudged her way to the Public Library. If she had to get out of the house to shut her brother up, she’d at least be an introvert about it. 

Jazz put on her best pleasant face and made her way to the librarian’s desk to get registered. 

The woman behind the counter was like looking into a warped mirror. Glasses, hair just a shade brighter, and eyes the wrong color looked back at her in mirrored surprise. 

“Bad hair day?” the mirror image guessed, pointing at the slouchy hat and messy bun that contained the mass of copper hair that Jazz hadn’t cut in the last year. 

“Uh yeah. Little brother was pestering me about going out, so I’m here for a library card.” Jazz rambled, doing her best to not play with the strap of her purse. 

“I’m Barbara, and welcome to Gotham Public Library!” The woman smiled warmly. 

When Jazz handed over her ID for Barbara to input the required information in the database the lady smirked. “I met your brother a few days ago actually. Tall, scrawny, likes space?”

Jazz groaned. “I’m so sorry about him.” 

The librarian’s glasses were white from the monitor. “Oh don’t worry about it, I know how younger siblings are. They mean well, they’re just annoying about it.” 

Card squared away, Jazz went in search of a quiet corner to read a trashy romance novel in. 

~~ 

Jason took his rare day off to visit the Library. He was also going to drop off a coffee for Barbara, and maybe sweet talk some info out of her. 

He needed some blackmail to lord over some birds. 

“Jason! How good to see you in the daylight! Oh! Coffee! Gimmie,” his favorite tech person greeted. 

Coffee offering made, Jason and Barbara traded information. 

“You should take a load off.” She suggested, waving him away towards the adult fiction shelves as some patrons came to check out. “See you at dinner Sunday!” 

The building was warm today, rare sunlight coming through the skylights and windows, making his leather jacket too hot to wear indoors. And there was nothing else pressing on his schedule today, so why not read a bit? 

Austen novel in hand, Jason made his way to his favorite reading nook. Instead of the two empty armchairs he’d push together into a lounge, there was a woman already there, firmly in the ray of sun that made her red hair look like fire. 

Her long legs were stretched out, boots cluncking together in a slow rhythm as she read. 

“Oh,”  

Bright green eyes startled and looked at him dead in the eyes. He blinked, and they were no longer green but a calming ocean blue.  

“Sorry,” she said, folding her legs back to let him pass. 

“Nah, it’s okay, I kind of want to soak in some sun too. Mind sharing?” Jason offered, fully prepared to leave the tall amazon alone.  But deep down he felt something warm and grow fuzzy. 

“Sure,” she scooted her chair over and pulled the other closer so they both shared the spot of sun. “I’m Jazz.” 

He sat down next to her and the scent of her shampoo reminded him of the herby bread that Alfred made with soup. She stretched out again and he realized that her legs were much longer then his. 

“I’m Jason.”

Inside the pit barely rippled. 

Her phone beeped and she opened the beat-up thing to scoff. “Danny for Ancient’s sake,” she typed something out only for another beep to immediately reply.  

Jason frowned. “Danny your boyfriend?” 

Blue eyes met him in an exasperated roll. “No. He's just a little brother who can’t mind his own business. Now he wants a selfie to prove ‘I’m not alone being a cave troll.’ Just a sec.” 

She started to angle away to send a picture of her flipping off the phone, but Jason pulled her closer and let his arm be visible around her shoulders in the selfie. He hadn’t thought, just acted. 

There was a surprising amount of muscle under that sweater.

The pit purred in pleasure and Jason wanted to melt into the floor. 

Jazz giggled, her smile showing teeth that were just a little too sharp. “Oh he’ll be happy with this I think. Only thing that would be better is if you had a big black motorcycle. That’d send him through the roof.” 

His breath hitched. The sun must’ve been too hot, and he felt himself grow warm under that bright smile. 

“Would a black and red motorcycle do?”  Was this flirting? Was he flirting? Was it working? He hoped it was working.

Those eyes lit up again and she tossed the book onto the chair, towering over him. “That’s perfect. He hates the idea of me on a motorcycle with a biker boyfriend.” 

Jason stood up and tossed his jacket to Jazz with a feral smile. “Let’s get you some pictures riding a motorcycle my lady.” 

The pit crowed in happiness, a rare thing when not caused by blood or murder. He made sure to get a few pictures of her on his bike with his own phone before remembering it should really be on Jazz’s phone, to send to Jazz’s brother. 

Not wanting the fun time to end, he put his helmet in her hands. “I know a good burger joint. Want to stay out late? See some sights?”

He was so focused on the redhead woman in his leather jacket straddling his bike, he forgot about the other redhead with access to the security cameras.

[jj-the-hobbit171]

Hey guys, I’ve been thinking about a medieval fantasy cod AU.

So, imagine that the task force were a group of knights that fought great battles and defeated monsters of greater size. They’ve rescued hundreds, and other achievements, and for their bravery, they’re crowned the new rulers of the land. And with that, comes a king’s guard. Reader.

Well, reader of their whole life has been trained to protect the next ruler of the kingdom, to lay down their life if the need be. They knew not mother, no father nor siblings, no love. All so they could be loyal to the throne and only that. That they be nothing more than the rulers hound… and they were ok with that. And when it was time for them to enter their post, they were content. They could live like this for the rest of their life, right?

Wrong. The kings never made it easy. Always sneaking out of the palace to go on some wild adventure, and leaving reader to rush to get them to protect them. By the first year, they had been

* burnt by 3 dragons using themselves as an emergency shield( why didn’t the king’s bring theirs?!)

* Thrown through 6 mountains. Courtesy of ghosts insisting that he could fight 20 foot monsters

* Made to initiate a fae wedding so gaz wouldn’t lose his soul.

My gods if I was to say they were exusted, and if that wasn’t the only things. They criticize you for everything. They way you ride a horse, they way you hold a sword, hell, they don’t like your hair!(there’s nothing you can do about it!)

But, one faithful day, you had enough. It was when you were commanded to follow king John to the archery ring. And he kept complaining about you.

“God, lad, can’t you walk faster? Are you daft? And didn’t we tell you to fix that hair? God, what could I do with you…”

You snapped, shoving him to the wall beside you, your body looming over him.

“Listen here, king,” you growled “ I didn’t waste my life training to be your fucking dog just to be insulted. Don’t play with my life, you, and your “boys”” you dropped him, Bowing in apology, before walking away. Price looks on at you, his mouth gapping….

Were you always this hot?

Hey guys! I know u haven’t been able to post in a while, I have been learning and furthering my education! But I do hope to post more. If you have any suggestions for knight reader, please don’t be afraid to knock!

From the hobbit hole,

J.J