#bc if you got hurt you could bleed and keep hurting

[foxy-lisard]

Anyone got any fun Minecraft servers to recommend? I lost all the ones I had saved and it's a bit hard trying to find them.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hii! Could you write something about reader being JJ’s teenage daughter and is in a school shooting. Just for some dramatics and more hurt, she gets shot in the shoulder when she tries to help her friend who’s already shot. (Lots and lots of hurt and then comfort pretty pleeeease <3)

Hey, anon! This is my first time writing something like this, so I hope it's what you're looking for! 💖 –illdowhatiwantthanks

Fight or Flight

Jennifer Jareau x daughter!reader Warnings: HUGE BIG WARNINGS for gun violence, school/active shooter situation, descriptions of injuries/blood, general anxiety/trauma/fear, hurt/comfort (please let me know if I've left something out!) Word count: 2.1k

Summary: You're in the cafeteria, when another student opens fire. When your friend is injured, you have to decide whether to take your mom's advice–"GET OUT"–or stay to keep your friend safe.

You didn’t know it could be so quiet and so loud at the same time. The blood pounding in your ears drowning out everything else so that each scream, each squeak of a tennis shoe against the cafeteria tile, each gunshot, is muffled.

You can’t tell who has the gun, can’t tell where the shots are coming from. The moment you heard the first shot, you were scrambling under the table, so fast, so frantic that you slammed your head on the seat going down and felt blood start to drip down past your brow bone.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t settle your eyes anywhere–the whole room just a blur of sound and color. Shaking, you turned to your right to squeeze further under the table and noticed your best friend, Colin, gasping beside you, blood spurting from his lower leg.

He was crying–that was all you could focus on at first. Not the blood, not the sound, not the chaos around you. It was Colin, crying.

You crawled over to him, pressing your hands against the wound and pushing down the bile that rose in your throat at how warm it was. You wanted to say something, wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, or that you were there for him, but you couldn’t manage anything at all. Couldn’t cry or scream or speak or anything. But you met his teary eyes and knew that he knew you weren’t going to leave him.

Your hands weren’t doing much to stop the blood, and the growing pool scared you. You wanted your mom and dad, you needed your mom and dad. Surely, they would have been contacted by now? Surely, the BAU was on their way? This was the kind of thing your mom would get called in for.

The sounds of the bullets grew fainter–the shooter was moving away from the cafeteria. Leaving one hand pressed against Colin’s leg and using the other to pull your phone from your back pocket, you tried to text your mom:

There’s a shooter. Colin shot in leg. So much blood. What to do? I love you

Your mom texted back immediately, and you’d never been more relieved that your go-to was to have your phone on silent for texting during class. Your mom got so mad at you for it. Wanted you to keep it in your locker. Maybe not anymore.

CAN YOU GET OUT??

You sighed, blood seeping through your fingers as tears streamed down Colin’s cheeks.

No bc Colin.

He will be ok. If you can run, RUN. Local police is there. BAU on the way. 

You stared at the text, trying to ignore the pained screams of other students around you, the frantic footsteps of those trying to flee the building. It could be you. You could flee the building. But Colin couldn’t. And you couldn’t leave him, you just couldn’t. It wasn’t who you were. So even though you knew your mom would kill you later, you sent the text anyway:

No. Staying with Colin. He’s bleeding bad. What do I do?

The three dots seemed to last forever. You were sure she was going to yell at you, berate you, order you out of the building. Instead:

Take your hoodie off and wrap it around his leg. 2-3 inches above the wound. Tight as you can.

Then play dead. DO NOT MOVE until police say so. And follow their directions exactly.

You did as she said, using your body weight to pull the hoodie tight around Colin’s leg. You shoved his sleeve into his mouth when he screamed, but it was too late.

Lost in the texts, lost in taking care of Colin, you hadn’t noticed the students running back this way, the gunshots growing louder again. And all of a sudden, a searing, tearing pain shot through your shoulder, and it exploded into a bloody mess. When you saw bone, you thought you might vomit, but every other thought in your head disappeared as a pair of tattered Converse stopped in front of you and Colin. You could see the long end of the rifle trailing at his shins.

You jumped a little when he bent down to look at you, and in that moment you were sure you were going to die. And you wished you’d texted your dad, too, wondered if it would haunt him that you hadn’t. You wished you’d listened a little closer this morning when Henry told you about his latest comic book. Wished that you hadn’t been so quick to wipe the spittle from Michael’s sloppy kiss off your cheek. Wished that you hadn’t gotten on the bus this morning pissed at your mom because she wouldn’t let you go to the beach with your friends this summer. You almost wished you’d done what she said–that’d you’d run–but you’d never have been able to forgive yourself for leaving Colin.

The biggest surprise of all: you recognized the shooter’s face. It was Daniel. From band. Seventh chair trombone. Greasy hair. Pimply face. Even quieter than you. He always wore AC/DC t-shirts. You weren’t friends exactly, but you said hi to him when it was appropriate. You knew he didn’t really have any friends, tried to be nice to him, but you didn’t have much in common, didn’t know what to talk to him about.

“Ugh. Jareau,” he said, as if he was disappointed to see you. “You could’ve left, you know?”

You were shaking so bad your vision was nearly blurry, and your voice felt thick in your throat, like syrup.

“H-hey, Daniel,” you whispered, trembling.

You watched him pull a box of bullets out of his sweatshirt pocket, and open up the gun to reload it. You could run. You could run now. But if you did… well, you couldn’t leave Colin. And you could try to get the gun away from him, but he seemed too alert right now. And the fact of the matter was, Daniel was bigger and stronger than you.

“Honestly, Y/N? Kind of wish you weren’t here. You were kind of nice sometimes.”

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you told him, inching forward a bit, trying to get close enough to the gun that you could wrest it from his grasp.

“Well, I mean, there’s not really any going back at this point, you know?” he said, clicking the gun back into place and cocking it.

You were frantic now, head spinning. “Wait!” you stuttered. “My m-mom. She’s an FBI agent. She can get you out of here. A-alive.”

You were so close. So close to being able to grab the gun. You turned slightly so that your good arm was closest to Daniel and thanked the universe it was your non-dominant arm that had been hit.

“Hmm,” Daniel said, and you could tell he was faking it. That he was being sarcastic. “Yeah, somehow, I don’t believe you.”

And it was then, as he moved to put the extra ammunition back in his pocket, when his grip would be the least firm, that you lunged forward to grab the gun. You tried your best to keep it pointed to the floor, so that if he pulled the trigger, it’d hit your lower extremities or, better yet, nothing at all. You were scared. You were so, so scared. You didn’t think you’d ever been so scared. Daniel was bigger than you. He was stronger.

But he didn’t have two law enforcement agents as parents. Parents that had put you in self-defense and martial arts classes from the time you could walk. Parents that had taught you how to handle a gun by your tenth birthday.

You kneed Daniel in the groin as hard as you could then, hands shaking, wrestled the gun out of his grip, holding it with ease–or as much ease as you could manage given the circumstances and the searing, throbbing pain in your shoulder–and turning it on Daniel.

You scrambled to your feet, chest heaving, and tried to channel your mom. What would she do? How would she make sure she didn’t lose control of the situation?

Your voice shook, even as you tried to be forceful, assured.

“Get on your knees!” you yelled, pointing the gun at him. “Put your hands behind your head!”

Daniel laughed, and it unnerved you. It scared you.

“Damn, Jareau,” he chuckled. “Didn’t see this coming.”

But you were both caught off-guard by the cafeteria doors slamming open and a flood of armed and armored officers storming through the doors. But their guns weren’t trained on Daniel. They were pointing at you.

“FBI!” they shouted. “On the ground! On the ground!”

You weren’t sure how to put your hands up without moving the gun, and you were afraid if you moved the gun, they’d shoot you. Your knees shook, and you were terrified you were going to fall down.

“Hold your fire!” And this time, your knees really did buckle. You knew that voice.

Your mom shot through the line of arm red officers, sprinting toward you and shoving her gun back into its holster.

“She’s not the shooter!” your mom yelled.

“It’s him,” you called weakly, pointing at Daniel who sat slumped next to you.

“She’s my daughter!” And this time, her voice broke. She collided with you, wrapping you so tightly in her arms, holding you up as all the tears you hadn’t been able to cry came pouring out of you. She had never felt so solid, so warm, so safe. Your mom. You wanted your mom, you needed your mom, and she was here.

“Take it,” you sobbed, shoving the gun away from you toward the other officers, who cuffed Daniel. “Please, take it.”

Your mom ripped off her bulletproof vest to hold you closer to her chest, rocking you on her lap. And she smelled like home. She smelled like the lavender shampoo that you both used, like baby food, like mom.

“I’m here, honey,” she said, pressing kisses into your head and examining your body. “I’m right here. You’re safe. You did so good.”

As paramedics moved in, you waved one down and pointed to Colin, who shook on the floor next to you. “Please!” you cried, sucking in shaky breaths. “My friend needs help!”

“You need help, too, honey,” your mom said, gently, brushing hair off your shoulder to examine the bullet wound. “You think you can stand and walk?”

You nodded, thankful for your mom’s steadiness, her strength, and she wrapped her arms around your body and heaved you to your feet. The rest of her team–your BAU family–stood at a distance, watching, and you knew you’d thank them later, that they’d hug you. Bring you food. Make sure you felt safe again. But you didn’t know how you’d ever feel safe again.

In the ambulance (they let you and your mom ride to the hospital with Colin), you leaned against your mom and she held you tight, so tight, as if she’d never let you go again.

You’d stopped crying for a bit, but the tears started streaming all over again a few minutes later.

“Hey,” your mom cooed, rubbing your good shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” you cried, shaking.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She turned your head toward her, so that you had to look her in the eye. “Sorry for what?”

“You told me to run, and I didn’t. And–and I was mad at you this morning! I’m so sorry. I was so scared and I thought… I thought I might not get to tell you I love you.”

If you’d looked up, you would have seen your mom blink away tears. You would have seen her struggle to keep her composure, seen her face scrunch up as she pressed her lips to the top of your head.

“Y/N,” she said. “You don’t need to be sorry. Honey, I’m so proud of you. What you did today? Baby, that was brave. You were so, so brave. You saved Colin’s life. I never thought I could be angry and proud at the same time, but here we are.”

You both laughed a little and sniffed.

“I love you, Mom,” you whispered, burying your face in her.

She pulled you even closer into her, wrapping you in her arms, and you knew that no matter what–no matter what happened, no matter how scary things got–she would keep you safe. She would never let you go again.

“I love you too, honey. I love you so much.” And you could feel her tears drip down onto your head, feel them washing away the blood.

[urhoneycombwitch]

On dad!Steve !! I would love if you could write something about him coming to terms with becoming a dad/pregnancy and labour/just first time dad!Steve in general makes me melt (especially if he's a girl dad 😔)

kay I’ll speak on it bc I have thoughts for SURE

cw: dad!steve, pregnant!R, light emetephobia ment, childbirth desc (no smut but my page is +18 only)

canon-wise, I feel like Steve’s only gotten smarter. obviously he’s still got a goofy himbo side. but he’s getting cleaner with fighting. sharper with his observations. lighter on his feet that’s only come with lots of protective practice.

but the part of him that really cares goes into overdrive after s4, in the canon I’m building in my head 😇 I think he might get a little obsessive about safety for awhile, in the wake of their heroic, underground-world-defeating victory. that kicks into high gear when he finds out you’re pregnant.

(see more of my to-be-named world building here)

for the first few months of your pregnancy he’s never been more grateful to be working in the same building as you. he takes every opportunity to to visit you at your library posting, between teaching his classes (under the pretense of grading papers. Professor Harrington can generally be found at a one-elbow lean on your front desk any time he isn’t in his office.)

he just loves you so much and wants to make sure you’re doing okay. he brings you ginger soda, the fancy brand you like- kept stocked in the staff fridge when your stomach is roiling with nausea, passed with an apologetic kiss to the back of your hand. 

bleeding heart Steve feels so bad he can’t take all the pain away, does his best to alleviate your new and growing discomforts. rubs your shoulders and puffy ankles down with lotion each night. gives up coffee in the mornings (even tho he used to RUN on caffeine) so you can kiss him without aversion 💖. he’s with you for every shaky night-sweat throw up session on the bathroom floor, kneeling to hold you hair back from getting sick in it. warm palm on your lower back in assurance and comfort. 

he calls it at 6 months. begs and cajoles and patiently argues (sweetheart, you’re wakin’ up so early with work. you should really rest, anyways- find a nice horizontal hobby to keep you off your feet. treat it like vacation 🫶) which turn into not so patient arguments (practically in your third trimester, goddammit, you want me to go crazy with worry? gonna have premature greys at this rate. let me keep you safe, angel, please. for my sake.) until finally you agree to take the damn maternity leave early.

and u know Steve’s reading all the books. how to be a good first-time dad. 101 lessons for the new parent. mother’s health and wellness magazines. childbirthing books. by the end of your third trimester, he’s gained enough knowledge to be an honorary midwife. could deliver the baby himself, if the situation really called for it. better to be prepared 🫡

and that spring , you’re both lounging on the couch. there’s a sunny spot under the big window, and you’re warming like cats, you feet propped in Steve’s lap. moon of a stomach peeking out from underneath a stolen one of Steve’s soft tees. his eyes are fixed on his library book on gentle parenting until you take a sharp inhale.

there’s a spasming band just under your navel that you press your hands into, and Steve pauses in rubbing absentminded at your ankle. looks up at you in concern and then at his watch and says “whoa, that’s like, 4 contractions in the last 5 minutes. are these for real or what?”

and you’re like “uhmmmm. don’t b mad but my water kind of broke this afternoon.”

and Steve looks at you with this very poorly concealed bewilderment that’s quickly morphing into shock and so you start talking before he can like “no no it’s chill. it’s cool!! 😎 doesn’t even hurt that bad and I knew you’d be home at 4 anyways….”

and you quiet when Steve rips his glasses off and pinches his nose between two fingers and says in a Very strangled voice “yeah. okay. well it’s 5 PM traffic right now which means rush hour which means we need to go to plan C right off the bat…”

and you watch this man unravel in the most efficient way possible. tugging at the roots of his hair until it stands overly-tall but managing to pack all your bags in the car in under 3 minutes. a record. and he gets to the hospital using all the mapped-out backroads so you’re there in a tight 15.

but as it turns out, a speedy arrival to the L&D ward of Hawkins Memorial wasn’t even necessary, because you spend the next 21 hours in the most intense, soul-crushing pain Steve’s ever seen you go thru in his life and it almost breaks him. for real. 

he’s so soft for you and no amount of reading about other people giving birth could have prepared him for the heartache and helplessness of seeing you ride the wave of a contraction. or go thru the brutal process of getting an epidural, your hands digging into his forearms hard enough to leave bruises as you leaned on him thru it all. 

and Steve did not know he could fall more in love w you but he does, the second you become a parent alongside him, wet and wriggling baby girl placed on your chest. spend two nights in the hospital healing up and fumbling through feedings and giggling over your new tiny daughter. counting her fingers and toes every time you unwrap her. cooing over those big brown eyes that look just like Steve’s.

and with his first baby, Steve is overprotective to the max. only Robin can babysit at first, and that’s only after she’s checked off a rigorous amount of reading material from Steve’s comprehensive required book list. he’s fussy about her routine (truly puts so much of the postnatal stress in himself so you can focus on bonding w/ your babe and resting), is fiercely protective over u and the new baby, like mama bear to the maxxx.

he’s actually GREAT at multitasking and the all consuming constant buzz of listening for certain types of crying and feedings and baby hand-offs thru the night really solidify the fact that he can do this. he’s already a million times better than his own parents at it, a fact of which you constantly remind and encourage him with. 

and I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, best thing to ever happen to Steve Harrington is having a second kid bc it chills him way the hell out. for reasons chalked up simply to It's the way the world works, Steve falls into a natural rhythm w your second kid. finds his stride as they say. he’s just as excited and caretaking and protective during your second pregnancy as with your first, but this time without all of the panic and wire-thin nerves. coasts thru calmly.

perhaps a touch too calm, because when you go into labor with your second kid, it’s the middle of a snowstorm in Hawkins, and since u and Steve went thru such a long hard birth with your eldest, you both take your sweet time getting ready to go. saying goodbye to your 3 year-old while aunt Robin comes to stay. even stopping for a snack on the way to the hospital because last time they didn’t let you eat and you were fucking ravenous the whole time.

but then Steve has to drive so slow and safe bc of the snowy roads and you’re still a good 20 mins out when things progress so rapidly and so unlike the first time around; Steve is so level-headed and  lets you crush all the bones in his right hand while he drives with his left, coaching you through breathing exercises, trying to keep calm but oh shit, you’re making the same sounds you made three years ago when you brought your first baby into the world, all low groans and gritted teeth and Steve’s pleading with you to hold on, just a few more minutes as he coasts into the emergency bay of L&D. doesn’t give a fuck about parking in a tow zone, they can take the damn car, Steve’s already launching himself out of the drivers seat to scoop you up and hike it indoors. 

in the nick of time. 10 minutes and a few pushes later and your second baby is there, all scrunched and tiny, so much smaller than her sister, got the slope of your nose and Steve’s pretty cupids bow. she arrived so fast it feels like a joke, you and Steve cuddling a bit cramped (the way you all like it) in the hospital bed, laughing a little, marveling at the fact that you’re a family of four now, how different it’s all been the second time around. how neither of you realized how much your hearts could expand to engulf your two kids with so much love, it feels like you’re both bursting at the seams 💖

[tomblythismyhusband]

Hellooo!! I got a request for billy

Its where he finds out the reader has been hurt in some way intentionally and he freaks out and treats her like glass for a little while and js takes care of her, being rlly protective from then on

wounded [billy the kid x fem!reader]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | After having a run in with some bandits, you escape wounded, leaving Billy to tend and and take care of it for you.

[warnings]: blood, violence, fluff, kissing, light teasing

[wc]: 1.2k

[note]: tysm anon for the request!! i couldn’t tell if the request meant like- reader harms herself and Billy takes care of her or not. IDK- message me if that’s what u meant bc I would be happy to write it :)

Pain bloomed in your side as you stumbled back to camp. When out riding, you came across bandits that not only slashed your side when you tried to escape, but also stole your horse.

Luckily you had also wounded one of the men in retaliation. You had shot him in the leg, leaving him at the mercy of whether or not his partner would help him walk. You had got out easy. The bandits would’ve done more to you if it wasn’t for the threat you had laid out.

“I go along with Billy the Kid’s gang so if I were you I would start runnin’.” You had yelled, aiming your gun at the men. The men’s eyes had both widened behind their bandanas. Billy was notoriously known as a ruthless killer. Of course you knew the real him, sweet, caring, soft. They whispered to each other, and then fled quickly, one man supporting the other. Leaving you standing in the desert, bleeding from your side, gun shaking in your fingers.

As you had trudged back to camp, each step felt like a knife was sinking into your flesh again. Warm blood had soaked your shirt as you tried to keep pressure on it.

Now you finally made it back to camp. Your legs were shaking, begging to collapse underneath the weight of your weary body.

“Billy-“ You choked out as you entered camp. All the other boys in the gang had left and it was evident by the empty food boxes, and quiet fields where the horses had been.

You glanced around. “Billy?” You called again, voice shaky.

You heard rustling in one of the tents and Billy poked his head out, a smile on his face. “Hey-“ His face immediately dropped, fear replacing his previous expression. Billy swiftly stood next to you, just in time as you slumped and had him support you.

“I’m sorry-“ You choked out as your head started to feel heavy. Surely you had lost a lot of blood, your vision was now fuzzy around the edges. Not a good side.

“Why are you apologizing? Don’t apologize. Come on, we need to tend to this.” Billy said urgently, starting to help you hobble over to his tent. Halfway there he scooped you up in his arms because walking wasn’t exactly the easiest at the moment.

He carried you with ease into the tent and laid you down on his cot, immediately rummaging for medical supplies. His eyes flicked to you. He kneeled down next to your lying body.

“Care to unbutton your shirt Y/n? I can’t reach the wound with it on.” Usually, you would have made a witty joke in response but you were in too much pain and could only comply with his words. You’re shaky fingers unbuttoned the buttons of the bloody shirt as Billy gently helped you sit up right to pull it off.

Your body felt cool once you were just in your bra. You could feel the wet sticky feeling of blood on your torso, and didn’t dare to look down to see the gash.

Billy laid you gently back down, sucking air through his teeth as he examined your wound.

“Is it bad?” You asked anxiously. “I couldn’t tell how far the blade went.” You felt Billy’s calloused hands on your side.

“It could be worse. It’s doable. Luckily, you won’t need stitches.” He nodded. He turned to grab a canteen of water from somewhere in the tent, popped open the lid, and poured it onto a cloth. Once the damp cloth met your skin, you tensed and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Shh… I know darlin’ I know.” Billy murmured softly as he cleaned the area of the wound. Your hands gripped the sides of the cot as he worked.

Once it was clean, Billy helped you sit up slowly as he took a roll of gauze from the medical kit. “Put your arms away from your side.” He instructed. You complied, sticking them out so they weren’t touching your body.

Billy carefully started to wrap gauze around your waist tightly. You hated the feeling of confinement but you also knew it was the only thing that could stop the bleeding.

As Billy worked you examined him. Your blood on his clothes, the worried expression pinching his brows, and the carefulness of his movements made your heart pump faster. His eyes met yours for a moment, sensing your staring and he gave you a quick smile before focusing on wrapping your wound again.

Finally, Billy had finished. He ran his hand over the now wrapped areas gingerly, causing a shiver to shoot up your spine.

“Thank you.” You finally whispered. Billy’s hand trailed down to rest on your knee as you looked down at him.

“I’m going to kill whoever did this to you.” He murmured. You let out a soft chuckle, reaching out your hand to run it over his forehead, pushing the curls that laid there away from his pretty blue eyes.

“Im sorry I should’ve been more careful-“ You started to say before Billy shook his head and took your hands in his own.

“Don’t say that. I know you're a strong, careful woman. Whatever happened, I bet you gave them worse.” You bit your lip. Billy studied your face. “How about you lie down and rest?” You gave him a pained smile.

“I don’t really feel like sleepin’... I’ll sleep only if your beside me.” Billy let out a chuckle at your stubbornness as he got out of a kneel. Thankfully the cot was big enough for two. Billy laid down carefully next to you as you situated your own body to lie down.

You felt Billy’s arm snake under your back before you fully lied down. He pulled you close, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I’m just glad you didn’t get more seriously hurt.” He whispered close to your ear. “I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’ able to help you.”

You gave him a reassuring nod and cupped his face with one of your hands. “I’m glad to have you, Billy.”

“Just so you know, I ain’t never lettin’ you out of my sighs again.” He joked, squeezing you close again playfully.

You couldn’t help it but to let out a giggle, moving your hand away from his face in the process. Billy’s head dipped down to kiss the tops of your breasts softly. The warm feeling of his lips on your body melted away any feeling of pain. “Now that’s just mean.. you teasin’ me like that.” You chuckled.

Billy flashed a devilish grin up at you. “Sorry, I can't help it.” He moved his head back up towards your lips, kissing them lightly. You both pulled away, noses close as your eyes studied each other. You loved how you could see the freckles that peppered his face more clearly up close.

“All right enough lovin’ you should be sleepin’.” Billy drawled. You felt his breath tickle your nose making you smile softly.

You both adjusted your lying positions to get comfy and for you, out of pain. “I love you.” You whispered. Billy smiled as he ran a hand on your face.

“Love you.”

With that you both napped away the day in each other’s arms.

[xf-cases-solved]

do you guys think. that mb in the months proceeding the leonard betts/never again/memento mori trifecta, there was a time where scully got a nosebleed around mulder and they both thought nothing of it?

do you think scully had written it off as dry air or seasonal allergies and mulder had taken her at her word and just handed her some tissues and made a joke about not getting blood on the files?

do you think that after he learns about her cancer, he thinks back to that nosebleed in their office and wonders "if only i had said something, then maybe she would have gotten her diagnosis sooner," as if he'd have had any reason to ever suspect that a simple nosebleed could be a sign of something so dire and lethal?

do you think that, late at night, when the insomnia is at its worst (mb when scully is rly sick and his mind won't let him fall asleep bc what if she needs him and he misses the call?), he traces back every interaction they've had since she got her chip removed, using his eidetic memory to analyze every moment where she might have shown signs of illness? every moment he might have missed, because he hadn't been paying close enough attention, WHY had he not been paying close enough attention, he's a psychologist, damnit, a behavioral profiler, the best one in the violent crimes unit--if he can write up a profile of a killer he's never met that's right on the money beat-for-beat, then there's no excuse for him missing the subtle changes in the most important person in the world to him

do you think he remembers a random tuesday morning when she came in late because she had woken up with a killer headache and wonders "was that headache because she had done back-to-back autopsies the day before without enough food or water, or was that the tumor starting to grow?"

do you think he remembers stopping by the convenience store in a rural town in kansas to grab her a box of dramamine because she said she was kind of dizzy, and at the time he'd not given it a second thought, because sometimes she got motion sickness on turbulent planes or riding passenger seat in a rental car down winding dirt roads, but now he wonders if that dizziness had been a sign of something more sinister?

do you think he remembers the two of them laughing off a bloody nose and then going back to bickering about this or that like nothing had happened, and wonders that if he had questioned it then, would it have saved her?

do you think that's just another thing he adds to his pile of guilt, because even though she's the last person he ever wants to see harmed, she keeps getting hurt anyway, and he believes it's always, ALWAYS, because of him?

do you think, when he sees her nose bleed now, he blames himself?

anyway

[allllium]

Hey, can I make a Matt x Reader request. Reader is a doctor and lives with Matt one evening Matt comes home with Spiderman who needs help. You become surrogate parents for Peter and think about adopting him since he's a son to both of you anyway.

Peter

~ Sorry this took me so long to get to. I had something written at some point but ended up scraping it 😭

~ Fluff, Maybe a little angst bc Peter is hurt at the beginning?

~ WC: 1,536

~ Matt brings home a kid ~

Being with Matt you've learned always to expect the unexpected. Matt has a heart of gold, always doing everything he can to help those in need. It's a good thing you're the same way. You wouldn't be a doctor if you didn't have the urge to help people but sometimes Matt, in your opinion, helps people that don't help him far too often.

However, one thing you didn't expect was for your wonderful boyfriend to come home with a kid. Okay maybe not kid, he's about sixteen years old, but that's still way younger than you or Matt. And way too young to be doing what he does.

When Matt brings home the kid, the first thing you do is freeze for a second. Who is this kid? How did he get hurt? How does Matt know him? Why is he in your apartment bleeding? 

You're quickly pushed out of your thoughts when Matt helps the kid onto the couch and looks to you for help. You immediately jump in, using your doctor skills to the best of your ability. Both he and your boyfriend stay silent the whole time. Matt stays sitting in an armchair to the side, obviously stressed by whatever happened. 

It takes a while to patch up the kid, whose name you still don't know, but as soon as you're finished, he falls asleep on the couch and allows you time to discuss this strange situation with Matt. 

Why is it that he stays silent the whole time you're busy helping the kid but the second you're ready to talk he runs off to the kitchen, not exactly running off as the kitchen is right there, but still?

“Matt. Explain?” You don't know what to say or ask. A million questions are running through your head as you follow him to the kitchen. 

“His name's Peter.” He hesitates to continue. “He's spiderman, that's how he got hurt.” 

“What? He's a child!” How the hell is a teenager Spiderman? 

“Yeah, I know that's why I've been keeping an eye on him.” He says as if it's the most casual thing ever. As if he didn't just bring me a beaten-up sixteen-year-old to fix up. 

“What do you mean keeping an eye on him? Do you listen to him?” You turn back to the living room and collapse in a chair. 

“No, he lives too far away. I just mean that I call him and check up on him.” His voice is quiet, careful not to wake the sleeping kid. “I met him a few weeks ago.” 

“When you were in Queens? Is that why you left?” A couple of weeks ago, Matt spent a few days in Queens for a new client he met. He never said much about it and you never asked. You never wanted to invade his clients' privacy and you weren't sure he could tell you about it anyway. 

“Yeah actually.” He doesn't say anymore and for some reason, you don't ask. Not sure if you want to know the reasons this kid, Peter you now know, could be in danger. You know Matt can handle himself so most of the time you try not to worry yourself but this is a young kid, that you can almost guarantee doesn't have anywhere near the amount of fighting training Matt had. 

After a few hours of making sure he was okay on the couch, and convincing Matt to stay in for the night, you both decide to head to bed. 

You wake up the next morning to loud crashing noises from the kitchen. You automatically know it's not Matt because one he is a terrible cook and two he is still lying in bed with an arm over your waist. So Peter must have woken up from his injury-induced slumber and started cooking because he's hungry? 

You reluctantly throw yourself out of bed. Despite getting plenty of sleep you feel anything but well rested. As you head out of the bedroom you see Peter wearing the old clothes Matt put out for him and trying to cook something in the kitchen. From the smell of it, he's probably not the best cook either.

“Good morning.” You greet him, coming into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. He whips around to look at you in surprise, he clearly doesn't have the same super senses as Matt.

“Oh uh, good morning!” He tries his best to sound cheerful but his voice has an underlying tone of shock and awkwardness. “Sorry for waking you up. I know taking of someone you don't know so late at night isn't the best, so I thought I would make you and Matt some breakfast to try and make up for it. I'm Peter by the end.” You stay silent as he falls into an awkward ramble. 

“Hi Peter I'm y/n. And you don't have to worry about making it up to us, we were happy to help. Plus I deal with this stuff all the time.”

“Right, you're a doctor! Matt told me about that.” He puts down all the stuff he was “cooking” and leans along the counter with you. 

“Oh, he talks about me?” 

“Well, it was that or all the people we've fought as masked superheroes.” He shrugs. 

“Superhero? Aren't you a little young to be fighting like you do?” 

“Maybe but if I can help people why wouldn't I?” 

“You could always be selfish and use your powers for yourself.” You tell him out of both curiosity and the fact that if you had any kind of powers you can't guarantee you would use them to help anyone else.

“Yeah, I guess.” And just like you both stop talking. Waiting in silence for Matt to wake up before you order breakfast.

Peter stayed with you guys for a little over a week while you made sure he was fully healed from his injuries. Before long he was going back home to Queens to whoever he lives with. You know from one brief conversation that his parents are gone, he never said how or who he stays with now but that's not any of your business. 

He comes over almost every week now for dinner, one of the only nights a week you and Matt cook instead of ordering takeout. You have the feeling Matt has imprinted on Peter, kind of like a baby duck. Maybe it's because they’re so similar. They can relate to each other in a way Foggy and Karen can’t. Well, Frank can but he and Matt don’t exactly get along. 

Today is one of the days that he’s gonna be coming over for dinner. You and Matt are in the kitchen making a new pasta dish. 

“So I wanted to ask you a question?” Matt suddenly tells you, while in the middle of stirring the pasta sauce. 

“You know you don't have to ask to ask a question right?” It doesn't matter how many times you say it, Matt will always warn you before asking a question. Most likely because he's worried about bothering you.

He lets out a deep chuckle. “I know, sweetheart, but I'm worried you'll say no.”

“I doubt it. What is it?”

“You know how Peter lives with his aunt right?” He pulls the finished sauce off the stove so he can put his full attention on you.

“I knew he lived some family member, yes. Why?” You’re very curious as to where this is going. 

“Well, she’s getting older and I thought maybe he could come and stay with us for a while.” Not what you expected him to ask.

“Matt, I would say yes to that if I could see how it would work. We don't have the room.” You shrug. You would love to help Peter out but you don’t think he would like living on the couch for at least a year. 

“That’s why I'm asking you. You always know what to do with these things.” If he means the way you freak out thinking of every possible solution and pretend to know what you’re doing then yeah, you are a master at it.

“I don't know, Matty. There is about a year and a half before he goes to college, there is no way he’ll be comfortable here for that long.”

“I know. Believe me, I’ve been thinking of a way this could work. I just don’t want him to be alone.” 

“He won’t be. Even if he can’t live here he’s always welcome.” And just by saying that you come up with the perfect idea. 

A few weeks later it worked. Somehow everything magically fell into place. At the end of your previous conversation about it, you told Matt how great it would be if Peter could have his own apartment close to yours and magically one became available in the same building. Being sixteen, Peter obviously couldn't pay for the place himself but you were able to help out, having some extra money due to being a good doctor. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Matt comes up to you. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Eh, you’re rubbing off on me.” You grumble with a fake annoyance.

[devoted-horror]

giving the new survivor hatch.

a/n: this is my first time writing for dbd in general, so!! i hope i do this game justice bc i play it every day lol

includes: the huntress, the trickster, the ghostface, the artist, the cannibal.

warnings: not proofread, typical dbd stuff like blood, mentions of murder, things like that, gn reader, love at first sight but only if u tilt ur head and squint really hard, inconsistent length, im going to be so delusional over jiwoon im sorry, i can't speak russian or korean so i just used a bunch of translators sorry if i got smth wrong, inaccurate behavior of dbd crows but relatively accurate behavior of irl crows i think, scream reference in danny's part bc i had to, reader injury in jiwoon and danny's parts, written over the course of a few months so sorry if the pacing is weird.

THE HUNTRESS

Anna has been in the fog long enough that every face of everyone she's ever killed has started to merge together into one. She doesn't know their names, and hardly ever reacts whenever she encounters a new survivor.

Mercy is not something she shows during trials. She is a hunter, and anyone who crosses her path, be it man or animal, is her prey. Nothing in the wild is merciful.

And you were nothing more than another person for her to hunt, prey for her to kill. And trust me, she was going to kill you.

Or, at least, she was.

And then you dropped a pallet on her. Now, normally, Anna would get very angry when this happens. Her prey is fighting back, and though it gives her a thrill, it's annoying. And for a brief moment, she did feel angry the moment the pallet hit her.

But then you were apologizing, a look of genuine guilt on your expression. You even asked if she was bleeding. Your survival instincts were lacking, clearly, but Anna found that to be... oddly endearing??

She felt a surge of protectiveness spark within her, something she had never felt during her time here. It was a familiar feeling, yet one so foreign at the same time.

But how could she not feel such a way when you were staring up at her, clearly scared that she was going to hurt you yet brave enough to stand in front of her and apologize for something that, by all means, you should have done.

Anna just stares you down for a long moment, having an internal struggle with herself on what she should do with you. Ultimately, her need to protect overruled her need to hunt, because after breaking the pallet between the two of you, she made a gesture for you to follow her.

And, not wanting to die, you did.

She took you to a shack, something you've heard other survivors refer to as the killer shack. The only reason you knew this is because you were told to stay away from it unless you wanted to get put in the basement.

She just pointed to one of the corners of the building, and looked over at you, "Оставайся здесь." And you didn't immediately understand her, though you were quick to pick up on what she was telling you. It seemed as if she wanted you to stay here.

Your safest bet on surviving was doing what she said, so you just nod and awkwardly place yourself in the corner she had been pointing at. She doesn't spare you another glance as she leaves you alone.

You're not sure how long you stayed there. You could hear the other survivors screams though, and you felt sick to your stomach at the sound of them being hooked and sacrificed to the Entity. They probably won't be too happy about this the next time you see them...

It was only when you were the last one standing that Anna came back to retrieve you. She found you exactly where she had left you, and even though you couldn't see her face due to the rabbit mask, she seemed rather pleased that you had actually listened to her.

If she had it her way, Anna would keep you by her side. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. The Entity would probably force the trial to end if you didn't either escape or die.

She begrudgingly brought you to hatch, the black mist pouring from it, silently promising safety if you jumped into it. You stared at it, confused about what it was, and that protectiveness she was feeling only seemed to grow stronger when you looked up at her for an explanation. The only explanation she offered was a slight gesture to you, and then the hatch.

"Иди, кролик." She says, lightly pushing you to the hatch and watching as you hesitantly decide to trust her, jumping into the hatch and leaving her alone as the fog comes and places her back in the Red Forest.

If she's lucky, she'll be in a trial with you again soon.

THE TRICKSTER

He'll immediately recognize you to be new. He prides himself in recognizing every survivor he's encountered, either by their face or by the sound of their screams. Mostly their screams.

And he certainly didn't recognize the scream he heard when one of his throwing knives ricocheted and hit you while he was chasing down another one of the newer survivors; Sable. It was a small, startled scream, nothing worth his attention, but it was new. That was enough to make this trial more exciting, and he found himself keeping his eyes peeled for you.

Which... was a lot easier than he expected it to be, because you just kept running right into him. Seriously. Did you not pay attention to your surroundings? Do you think he's a survivor?? Do you not see the bloodied fucking bat he's holding???

He's not sure if he's annoyed or amused by this. Partially both, to be honest. It's amusing to see you relax for a split second after bumping into him, not recognizing him to be the killer immediately. It's annoying because he'd like to hear you scream, please and thank you.

Jiwoon doesn't necessarily target you during the trial. To be honest, he's trying to weed out the other survivors before focusing his attention on you.

He wanted to take his time with you, to see what sounds he could pull out of you before the Entity forced the trial to end. Just the sound of you gasping whenever you bump into him has his mind racing.

This was honestly enough to keep him motivated throughout the entire trial, a certain bloodlust sparking in him. He relished the sound of everyone else's screams, but they weren't appealing to him right now.

He needed the other survivors out of the way. He needed you alone. And when he finally got rid of the last pesky survivor, the fun began.

And when he corners you in killer shack, he really didn't plan on being merciful. He wanted to hear you scream, and then he wanted to kill you, really. That was his plan.

The only way you'd get out of this alive is if you beg, honestly. And I mean beg. On your knees, crying, pleading, offering something in return for your survival. That sort of begging.

You were new and shiny in comparison to all of the other survivors, and maybe it's because he's a sadistic bastard, but he really does adore the sight of you on your knees, crying as he absently nicks your skin with one of his throwing knives.

This is where Jiwoon feels a bit torn, truth be told. He's never been a patient man, so he wants to get as many screams out of you as he can before the Entity forced the trial to end. But at the same time, he knew he'd see you again in a future trial, sooner or later.

It wouldn't hurt to prolong his time with you, would it?

The entire time he's pondering this, he's dragging the blade across your skin, relishing in the sweet sounds of your gasps and whimpers, and you stutter out a desperate 'please'.

Ultimately, Jiwoon decides to be nice, just this once. He'll mutter a quiet, "짜증나..." before hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you off.

You struggled, obviously, assuming he was ending your misery and taking you to a hook. He didn't really mind much, having an iron grasp on you that kept you from wiggling free.

He dropped you right next to the hatch once he found it, finding your small pained sound to be adorable as you look at your salvation with a confused expression. But before you can crawl into it and escape, he's grabbing you by the back of your shirt and pulling you back a bit.

For a moment, you think he's going to kill you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting pain. But nothing comes. You feel him tuck something in your shirt, and he lightly pats your cheek, cooing a bit at your terror before he lets you go and leaves you alone.

And when you're back at the campfire, you find a photo of Jiwoon neatly folded and tucked into your shirt, signed with his autograph.

He'll have an encore the next time he sees you, and you can only hope you don't find yourself in a trial with him again any time soon.

THE GHOSTFACE

Would actually never give you hatch under normal circumstances. He's here to kill, so kill he shall. He treated you the same as any other survivor when he first saw you, though it wasn't until he was in chase with you that he realized how interesting you were.

For one, you were... surprisingly good at looping him?? For a newbie, he was rather impressed. That's not enough to get him to let you live, but it's definitely a start.

No, his interest is only truly piqued when you start quoting horror movies during chase.

Honestly, if he didn't know any better, he'd think you to be flirting with him. A person after his heart, truly.

It was only when he had you cornered that you really caught his attention. You weren't scared, and it intrigued him as much as it annoyed him.

He was just itching to dig his knife into you and take a photo of your lifeless corpse once he was finished. But even with your life at risk, you showed no fear.

Hell, you even mocked him.

"No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel."

Sure, you weren't the first survivor to mock him, and you certainly won't be the last, but he found you interesting.

Oh, he needed to kill you. He needed your photo in his collection, it would be his favorite.

But he thought it would be more fun to humor you. Danny was a patient man. This isn't the first time he's drawn out a kill.

You were honestly surprised that he had left you alone. You didn't think that would actually work, and you were... a bit concerned, actually. None of the other killers you had ended up in a trial with during your short time here has entertained you the way Danny has, and you're not sure if you should be scared or not.

And, much to your very hesitant relief, you didn't see him for the rest of the trial. You knew he was watching you though. Every once in a while, you just felt... you're not quite sure how to describe it, but it almost felt as if you were being hunted.

You'd see him from the corner of your eye though. Never for long, just quick flashes of his screaming mask. Honestly, you felt less scared when he was actively trying to murder you.

That's how the rest of the trial went for you, at least. Until eventually, you were the only one left standing. You may be new, but the other survivors had given you the rundown of what to do if you were the last one standing before the trial had started.

You had to find hatch. Which was... easier said than done, truthfully. Especially since you weren't sure where the fuck Danny was. There's no way he was letting you go, right? He's probably saving you for last, right?

Whenever you so much as caught a glimpse of something moving, you were scurrying in the other direction.

This is pretty much Danny's way of giving you hatch. There's no way he'd give it to you directly, not yet.

You had honestly thought you had found it all by yourself until you were fucking stabbed, the flash of a camera in your face blinding you.

Truth be told, Danny did plan on killing you. He had wanted to give you a false sense of hope. But your stupid little smile when you saw hatch got to him, okay? So he'll settle for this for now.

"You owe me."

And he doesn't even spare you a glance as he pushes you into the hatch's mist, his gaze intently focused on the photo of you he had just taken.

Unfortunately for you, you've caught his attention.

THE ARTIST

Carmina is one of the more merciful killers you may come across, so she'd be fairly likely to give a new survivor hatch depending on how the trial has gone and whether or not she's consumed by anger.

She only realizes that you're new to the fog when her crows surround you and you don't try shooing them away. When she finds you, you're actually... rather content having a murder of crows surrounding you.

Very very confused. She'll probably just stare at you for a hot second as you go about the trial without a single care for the crows swarming around you. Even the crows are confused.

You distract her long enough with your antics that a good chunk of the gens pop, and she had to force herself to leave you be in order to focus on hunting the other survivors.

She'll ignore you for the entire trial after she leaves you be. Her crows can keep watch for her.

So for the rest of the trial she's only vaguely aware of your location, occasionally stopping once in a while to determine whether or not her crows were still with you. They were.

Even the other survivors seemed confused by your behavior.

On the rare occasion that she bumped into you during the trial, it was always when another survivor was nearby trying to tell you how to get rid of the crows.

You never even tried to shoo away the crows throughout the entire trial, and at some point, they stopped swarming around you. They didn't go away, no. You, somehow, managed to tame Carmina's crows with little trinkets that you found littered across the place.

Honestly, the crows seemed to like you enough that even if Carmina told them to hurt you, they probably wouldn't listen to her. It's hard to believe that you were a new survivor with how calm you were about everything happening.

It's probably that calm nature, coupled with your ability to calm her crows, that solidified in her mind that you were the only one who would make it out alive.

And with a newfound determination, Carmina sacrificed the other three survivors with no issues, and she could hear hatch opening not too far away from her.

With the help of her crows, Carmina was able to easily bring you to hatch, and she could only tilt her head to the side and make a small, croaking sound as you smiled and thanked both her and her crows before jumping into the hatch.

This is one of the many moments Carmina laments no longer being able to create art. She'd love to immortalize the image of you smiling at her, surrounded by her crows.

THE CANNIBAL

Bubba is honestly torn when he spots you, because you look so afraid, cowering in fear at every little sound and struggling to repair a generator like the others had told you to. He understands your fear because it's something he's very familiar with.

And while he has a job to do, not wanting to disappoint the Entity, he can't help but find it hard to hurt you. No matter how hard it was, Bubba had no choice.

But when he approached you, you didn't run. Sure, you let out a startled shout, the generator blowing up in your face as you stared up at him like a scared animal, quietly begging him not to hurt you.

But you didn't run.

How could he hurt you when you weren't running from him? Everyone always ran. But not you. You weren't running from him, and he didn't know what to do about that.

Bubba's trouble was so very evident. He's always been an expressive person, so it wasn't hard to tell that this was stressing him out. His free hand kept clenching and unclenching his apron, and he kept making small noises in the back of his throat.

He doesn't want to disappoint the Entity, he doesn't. But he's not sure if he can hurt someone who's not running from him. You aren't running! He really likes that! The only people who never ran when he was around were his family!

The nail in the coffin is when you, even despite your fear, took a chance and set down the toolbox you were holding. You... you gave him a gift. Not one that he could use, but a gift nonetheless.

There was literally no way he could hurt you now the guilt would eat him alive. So, he just opts to leave you be to instead focus on the other survivors. He wouldn't feel guilty hurting them.

The entire trial, Bubba focuses all of his attention on getting rid of the other survivors. If he sees you, he gets all nervous and can't even look at you for long without babbling incoherently before scurrying away.

Some of the other survivors may pick up on Bubba's strange avoidment of you, and may even use that to their advantage by running by you in chase because Bubba just... he can't hurt you, I'm sorry.

He's swinging his chainsaw, and then suddenly Kate is running by you and he's coming to a full stop out of fear of accidentally hurting you.

It really stresses him out, and even though you're still scared of him, and even though he's supposed to be killing you, you can't help but feel bad. So whenever the other survivors got a little too close when Bubba was chasing them, you always made sure to stay out of his way.

It's okay to be a bad teammate because it's Bubba.

Jokes aside, Bubba takes his job as a killer very seriously. He may avoid hurting you, but he makes quick work of the other survivors.

And when hatch opened right next to Bubba after killing the third survivor, he took it as a sign from the Entity that he was meant to give it to you. Why else would it open next to him?

Bubba was ever the gentleman when he brought you to hatch, guiding you to it carefully and making sure you didn't trip on any debris littered across the area.

He even scared off a few judgmental crows! He knew how off-putting it was to have them watching you all the time, especially when you're new in the fog.

And when you quietly thank him, smiling at him as if he weren't a killer, Bubba was just over the moon.

It's been so long since he's had someone to protect. The fog is a scary place to be but he'll do his best to make it a happy place whenever you two are in a trial together.

Оставайся здесь. - Stay here. Иди, кролик. - Go, rabbit. 짜증나. - How annoying.

[wayfayrr]

I’m asking as a request but if u can’t or don’t want to it’s ok. Then maybe just a quick 1 sentence answer for each Link bc I’m curious? lol, So a little while back @luimagines wrote some divorce hcs. So…how would the yandere Links deal with a reader that wants a divorce?

Divorce? you think you can be rid of them? no, no hope whatsoever.

not even death can separate you

but I do think they'd be a little different in how they handle you suggesting it (also going to be using reader suggesting a divorce because they found a way home and didn't want to make the links choose between them and hyrule)

also pinky if you see this I absolutely adore your work but never actually read the divorce hcs dfbgdgbdbfcgb (got too sad like a fool)

[masterlist]

Legend would be the fastest to start outright panicking, immediately shutting down any hopes of you leaving. Barring windows and even going as far as to chain you to the bed so you can't leave. You're his and his alone.

Tears would break down, after thinking for a second that it's a joke he'd collapse onto you sobbing for you not to leave and forget him like everyone else does. But he won't force you to stay. If he learns why you did it? well remember this fic where wars lost himself a bit- Tears would kinda come to this conclusion a lot faster quickly following you into your world

Rulie takes after legend a little, in how he handles it after the first few hours. To start with though? He's a shaky stuttery mess trying to breathe and stay calm while failing but then he instantly jumps to keeping you away from society and tied to him.

Sky would laugh it off, seeing through you and the reason that you've even suggested it, divorce isn't even a potential for him. He's been reading your diarys and keeping a close eye on you - you think he wasn't aware of this beforehand? He promises you that it isn't even a choice to follow you to your home rather than staying here before kissing you silly and grabbing your waist so tight it almost hurts. Like he's offended you'd even think such a thing.

Twilight would freeze up to start, not, refusing to believe what you said. you have to repeat it a couple of times for it to really sink in, at which point he's already started snarling, wolfie starting to show in his actions and words. He could be rational and hear you out but he's just all over the place like he's been hit by a flashbang - take your chance to get away while you have it

Four would split instantly, the colours not being able to work together through it. Each wanting to handle it in a different way ( yes I know this isn't the most canon but it's more interesting sfvvsfvs) vio wants to plan out the why, blue is in charge of safe proofing the house while green and red are all over you, taking turns to watch you so you're never unsupervised. It'll take a lot of time and rebuilt trust to get him to rejoin.

Warriors would shatter, begging, pleading, sobbing and doing anything you ask of him to stay. even if you were to ask him to make himself bleed. he doesn't eat nor sleep for days on end as he tries and begs you to tell him why, why you would ever want to leave him. He looks more ragged than he ever did on the journey like he's seconds away from death. And when you finally do tell him- he breaks down all over again tugging you into his arms as he's begging for there to be more, that you didn't do all of this to him for something so small and that it isn't even a thought to him of course he'll choose you.

Time is in a weird place, he isn't entirely familiar to hylian/human traditions yet so the word divorce itself throws him for a loop, until you explain what it is to him. Which is where he turns ice cold, the more happy go lucky time you knew is gone, replaced by someone simply wearing his face as he goes through robotic motions. for time though I could also see him using the ocarina throwing himself into a pointless loop trying to stop you from suggesting it but he can't and it slowly destroys his sanity

these got longer as I went oops, I didn't think I'd write so much for it ngl got into the flow a bit

[gladiatorcunt]

cw: 18+ mdni content, painal, blood, period sex, pseudo incest, extreme dubcon, degradation but also praise, typical rafe warnings, fem labels, dead dove: DO NOT EAT

thinking about bloody anal with stepbro!rafe bc you’re on your period! he has no problems fucking the shit out of your puffy pussy, but there’s just something irresitble abour stretching your ass out while watching your cunt bleed. he likes to stare at where the two of you connect, almost treating you more like a pocket pussy than his stepsister. he’s not gentle about it whatsoever, immediately thrusting his tip past your walls and spanking you.

“c’mon, mama, let me in.” he grits out, slapping a hand over your mouth to silence your whines.

on the rare chance that the two of you have the house to ourselves, he’d love to hear you yelp and howl for his dick. but it’s 7 am on a monday morning and he couldn’t wait to pounce on you as soon as he saw the pads in the trash can of your shared bathroom. rafe held a finger to his lips when you started waking up to the sound of your bedroom door lock being played with. he knelt on your pink bed and crawled over you, his pupils blown out and his arms tensing in anticipation.

you try to plead with rafe to at least wait until everyone else is asleep. but he doesn’t seem to care about the sounds of your blended family moving through the house and his dick barges in any way. all you can do is sob against his hand and let him split you open. rafe pretends he doesn’t feel you shake your little ass back on his length, you keep up the charade that you don’t love that this is hurting you.

“shh shh, good girl. keep swallowing this dick, alright?” he whispers against your temple, tightening his grip on your face and bullying more inches into your reddening ass.

“this’ll help with the cramps, i’m doin’ my little slut a favor, honey.”

he’s not letting you go so you can clean up for a reason.

he bottoms out with a silent groan, mouthing ‘FUCK!’ into your pillow. you squeal, too tired and overwhelmed to register anything but your stepbrother’s huge cock inside you. this wasn’t how you imagined fucking him again, though you’re ashamed to say you imagined it all. listening to the soft rain pelt your window as rafe caresses your ass, he’s at least giving you enough grace to get yourself together and adjust.

he bites his lip when some of your blood trickles down to touch where your ass is stretched around his dick. more blood follows suit as he starts at a rough pace, and the sight of your matted pubic hair combined with your wide teary eyes could make him cum in the spot.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. just be a good girl, your big brother’s already claimed this tight fucking ass hole. all you have to do is take it.” he says and tugs your face to his so he can spit on his hand, he can’t exactly take his hand off so he can spit in your mouth but he can imagine it. “just me and not that limp dick boy that’s been following you around.”

after thrusting for a bit, rafe looks down to see that your blood has frothed around his cock. mixing with your slick (because of course you’re so fucking wet) and the cum he left inside you last night to form a pink ring around the base.

“aw, look sweetie,” he coos, pushing your head down to gaze at his cock pistoning in and out of your soaked pussy. “it’s your favorite color!”

you whimper into his fingers and do your best to nod, wishing that you could reach down and rub your clit. but rafe’s got your wrists in his other hand behind your back, and he’s probably the type that would be all territorial about you touching yourself. you were both so drunk last night off whatever you could find in ward’s cabinet, it was your first time trying alcohol and you went a little overboard. but you both were too fucked up to put a name or expectations to what you have.

rafe surprises you and lets go of your wrists. he digs his now free digits into your clit, flicking the swollen bud in time with his thrusts in your ass. he unintentionally edges you because he keeps bring his hand up to his mouth so he suck the blood off of his fingers.

“hmm, you taste good, sis. sometimes i wish i could bite all over this slutty body and really leave my mark, but this’ll be enough for now, right?”

you don’t care about your family making their presence known downstairs, or about the bloody mess rafe is making of you anymore. you always wanted his attention and approval, so you lick the fingers covering your mouth and wiggle your ass back on his dick again. the earth shattering orgasm you later have around him was so intense that he’s almost sad that it wasn’t on camera.

the ridiculous hot pink heart shaped plug he shoves inside your abused hole makes for the perfect lockscreen on his phone though.

[munstysmind]

WARNING/S: non-con, rape, loss of virginity, rough sex, rough vaginal sex, rough oral sex, rough anal sex, unprotected sex, multiple men, blood, assault, abuse, slavery, trauma, threats of forced prostitution, mentions of kidnapping/abduction, mentions of death, mentions or murder, mentions of injuries, mentions of suicide. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know.

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT

THIS IS A DARK FIC, DO NOT READ IF THIS TYPE OF CONTENT TRIGGERS OR OFFENDS YOU.

You and you alone are responsible for what you choose to consume online.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Thank you to @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure for being my ideas gremlin, and @themaradwrites for beta-ing. This wouldn’t have been written without your help.

MAIN MASTERLIST

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CH. 1 - THEIR REWARD

{54 BC}

Her heart pounds in her chest as she slowly walks down the hall towards the man she despises more than anything in this world.

Dominus Julius Fabius. Her owner. Her master.

She wishes she could stick him in the neck with a dagger and watch him bleed to death, just like all the men he condemns when he forces them into the arena.

He’s pure evil.

The kind of evil Orcus uses to make an example of. The God of punishment and the Underworld is going to have fun with her master when he passes into the afterlife.

She’s lost count of how long it’s been. Five years? Probably more, if she’s being honest with herself. She doesn’t even know who she is anymore.

Except her name.

Amina.

To everyone around her, she’s a thing. An object meant to do as she’s told. No exceptions.

She runs her finger along the cold iron bolted around her neck, her slave collar.

Thirty coins. That’s what he paid for her. She didn’t know you could put a price on someone’s life but that’s what hers was worth, thirty whole coins.

“There you are girl” he growls as he grabs her wrist tightly and drags her towards a door at the end of the hall “I’m in a right mind to give you a lashing for making me wait”

“I’m sorry, they… they wanted to make sure everything was perfect” she mumbles, keeping her eyes on the floor to help hide her tears as she recalls the looks of pity on the faces of the women who got her ready.

She knows they know what her Master’s plans are, and she suspects the reason they took so long was to keep her from her fate for as long as they possibly could.

“I don’t care. Those fighters in there won me a lot of denarii today. You’re going to let them do whatever they want to you. All. Night” her master tells her, getting so close to her she can feel his warm, vile breath across her face.

“I… I’ve never…” she stammers, her eyes going wide as she realises what he’s saying.

“I know. I know you’ve never laid with a man before, they checked you when I brought you. That’s why I chose you” he says, a smirk spreading across his face. “Maybe I should put you in the Lupanar and whore you out after they’ve broken you in. Gods know you’d make me a fortune”

It takes everything in her not to turn and run as fast as she can as she swallows down the bile rising in her throat.

It would be pointless though, there’s guards everywhere. She wouldn’t make it to the end of the hall before they caught her. She’d be guaranteed a lashing too, a public one at that. Just like Vesta.

“I mean it girl. You’re theirs tonight. I don’t care if it hurts… in fact, I want it to. A lot” he whispers, pulling out a small dagger and cutting one of the shoulders of her dress, exposing her breast.

He runs the dagger tip over her nipple, pressing it into the sensitive bud until it breaks the skin, making her let out a small whimper of pain.

“If you resist, or put up a fight, you’ll be punished, and it’ll be much worse than what they’re going to do” he growls before pushing her into the room.

She can’t help but flinch as the large wooden door is slammed in her face, the echo of the metal latch being closed ringing in her ears.

She just stands there, staring at it as she takes shuddery breaths.

She knows what’s about to happen. What she’s about to go through. And there’s nothing she can do about it.

She’s trapped.

Locked in a room with three blood covered fighters.

Their reward for winning their master 5000 coin.

She’s their prize.

“Turn around” a deep voice commands, making her jump.

She closes her eyes, praying to the Gods that she wakes up from this nightmare as she slowly turns around.

She sees the man the voice belongs to and her breath catches in her throat as she fights back tears.

He’s the one who killed her brother.

Champion gladiator August.

“Name” he growls, slowly approaching her with a look similar to the lions in the arena before they attack.

“Am… Amina” she stammers, stumbling back against the door as he towers over her.

She can smell death on him. The twang of iron, of blood. Was it her brothers?

Her stomach churns at the thought and she wants to be sick.

“Amina” he repeats “honest, faithful. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman”

Under any other circumstance she might have smiled and thanked him for his compliment, just like she was taught, but not this time. She just can’t.

“I like to know their names before I take what I want” he tells her with a smirk.

He remembers them, every name. All the women he’s taken this way. Amina’s the latest entry on his ever growing list.

He grabs her dress and tears it off her body, letting the fabric crumple to the floor.

She instinctively tries to cover herself, but he stops her, prying her hands away from her body before grasping her breasts and squeezing.

A grin spreads across his face as he continues to grope her, pinching and rolling her nipples tightly between his fingers, making her whimper in pain.

The noise makes him let out a low growl from deep in his chest and his eyes go dark, almost black.

Before she can fully register what’s happening, he grabs her by the back of her neck and yanks her towards the small table on the other side of the room, forcing her onto her back.

He takes her legs behind the knees and pushes them open, exposing her to not only him, but the other two men in the room who are now standing behind him and looking over his shoulder.

Her stomach churns as she stares at the ceiling, her face burning with embarrassment as she tries to think of anything to distract her from the way he’s inspecting her.

She bites back a whimper as he touches her, his fingers playing with her most intimate area before spreading it open.

He lets out a satisfied hum, a smirk spreading across his face when he sees she’s intact, just like their Master promised.

“I’ve never had a pure one before” he says, to no one in particular as he pinches the small bundle of nerves above her opening, making her gasp loudly.

“They’re my favourite. Oh, the noises they make” one of the other men says excitedly, much to August’s annoyance.

“She’s mine, Lloyd” he growls, glaring at the man before turning his attention back to her, really looking at her for the first time since she entered the room.

And as much as she tries to look away, to look anywhere but the face of the man that’s about to brutalise her, she can't. Her green, terror filled eyes just stare at him, transfixed.

He’s seen her eyes, and that look, before. He knows he has. There’s something so familiar about them and it takes him a minute to place it. The man he killed in the arena a mere hours before. Her brother.

“You’ve got his eyes” he tells her before turning his gaze back between her legs.

She’s so caught up in the flood of emotions at what he just said that she doesn’t notice his finger pushing into her until it’s too late.

She lets out a loud yelp at the sudden pain between her legs, her body instinctively trying to close her legs and move away from the beast of a man in front of her.

He lets out an angry growl and yanks her up by her arm, turning her around and bending her over the table with so much force all the air leaves her lungs when her chest makes contact with the wooden surface.

“Don’t move” he growls, kicking her legs apart with his feet.

She grips the edge of the table, so tightly her fingers hurt, as tears well in her eyes. She prays the talk of his stamina is wrong, that it will be over quickly.

But it won’t.

When he’s done with her, there’s two more waiting.

And they have her all night…

The sound of his armour dropping onto the ground behind her makes her heart pound.

It’s happening.

Right now.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying her best to relax when she feels him prod at her again, but it doesn’t matter.

He snaps his hips forward and tears into her with force, pulling a scream of pain from her that makes him grin.

In all the beatings she’s gotten over the years, she’s never felt pain like this.

It’s like a searing hot poker being forced into her over and over as she’s split in two.

The tears in her eyes escape and spill onto the table as he thrusts into her, over and over and over again. It feels like the more she cries, the harder his thrusts become.

“Best one I’ve had yet” he grunts as he lays over her, pressing her against the table with his full body weight, and starts grinding into her, moaning loudly in her ear.

He’s enjoying this, getting pleasure out of hurting her. How can he not? He’s a sadistic bastard!

Little does she know she’s not the first woman he’s forced himself into. It’s the whole reason he’s stuck fighting in that gods forsaken arena in the first place. And unless he dies there, she won’t be the last.

“You’re mine now, gonna take you like this whenever I want” he pants, making her let out a loud sob at the thought of him doing this to her over and over.

It all becomes too much and her stomach churns as bile rises in her throat, burning it as she chokes and coughs it up.

His moans start becoming louder as he ruts into her hard, his hips slamming her body into the table over and over and over.

“Oh Gods!” he roars, moaning loudly as his hips stutter then still before he thrusts into her as hard as he can, filling her with a strange warmth.

He says something to her, but she doesn’t hear a word of it, unable to hear anything except the loud ringing in her ears.

She lets out a loud whimper as he pulls out of her before kneeling and pushing her legs wider, smirking at the blood mixed with his spend dripping out of her.

He catches some with his fingers and pushes them inside her, forcing it back into her as she lies on the table, her entire body shaking and twitching from shock as she takes shallow, gasping breaths.

“My turn” the second of the men says, all but pushing August out of the way before grasping her by her hair and pulling her to her feet, making her cry out.

He pushes her to her knees, making quick work of removing his armour as she glances behind him at August drinking wine from a goblet and sees the size of him for the first time, enough to make Priapus himself blush.

She looks back at the second man, terror spreading through her yet again as she comes face to face with his member.

She can’t tell if he’s bigger, but it doesn’t matter. He’s going to defile her the same way August did without a care for her.

He hooks his finger into her mouth and forces it open before pushing himself in until she starts to gag.

He holds onto the sides of her head and starts thrusting, hitting the back of her throat with each snap of his hips.

A smirk spreads across his face as he moves one of his hands to the back of her head and forces her down onto him, deep throating her.

He holds her there, moaning at the feeling of the muscles in her throat squeezing him as she chokes.

“We can’t kill her, Lloyd” August warns as she starts scratching at his legs, trying desperately to get air.

He lets out a growl as he pulls himself out of her mouth and slaps her hard across the face before grabbing it and pulling her to her feet.

“You’re going to pay for that” he hisses, manhandling her onto the small bed in the corner of the room.

He climbs on after her, roughly pulling her hips up and slamming into her from behind.

“Gods, I’ve not taken a woman this good in years” he moans, throwing his head back and gripping her hips tightly as he thrusts hard, spurred on by her cries.

“I wonder if her other hole’s just as good?” August says with a smirk, leaning against the table he just had her bent over.

“Let’s find out” Lloyd replies, spitting on her ass. He pulls out and lines himself up with her tiny puckered hole before pushing himself into her, moaning loudly at the muscles squeezing him tightly in an attempt to force him out.

She lets out a shriek of pain, her body going rigid as she tries, and fails, to get away from the man violating her in a way she didn’t think was possible.

He lets out an evil laugh and pushes her face into the bed as he starts thrusting, going out of his way to hurt her as much as he can.

The noises leaving him as he uses her body for his pleasure are burned into her mind as she prays to the Gods to take her and put an end to the indescribable pain coursing through her body.

He looks down at where he’s thrusting in and out of her and smirks proudly at the sight of blood.

“It’s even better” he grunts to August, gripping her hips so tightly his nails break her skin.

“I’ll have to try it next” August says, slowly stroking himself as he watches Lloyd pound into the woman at their mercy over and over again, moaning to himself at the sound of her cries.

Lloyd lifts her hips higher, thrusting as hard as he can into her at the new angle, turning her cries into screams with every snap of his hip.

He lets out a long moan, throwing his head back as he cums hard, filling her with the same strange warmth August did.

“Gods, I’m doing that again” he pants as he slowly pulls himself out of her bloody back passage before slapping her ass, making her yelp as she collapses into the bed.

“You’ll get your chance. It’s your turn, Nick” August says, getting the attention of the third man standing on the other side of the room.

Until now, he’s not paid much attention to the events happening in the small room, trying to drown out her cries and think of anything other than what he wants to do to her.

It’s wrong, he knows it’s wrong, but he doesn’t care. He wants her. And it’s his turn to take her.

He slowly walks towards her, removing his armour as he does before gently turning her over and climbing into the bed.

“No more… please” she begs quietly as he spreads her legs with his knees and settles between them.

Asking for mercy is useless, she knows that. All she is to them is an object to seek pleasure from, to defile.

The only thing she can do is close her eyes and brace herself for the pain as he slowly pushes in, a long moan leaving him as he fills her.

But when he starts to move, the pain doesn't come.

She opens her eyes and stares at him, confused, and scared, by what she's feeling.

Why doesn’t it hurt?

Why is it so different?

Why does it feel… nice?

“Gods” she gasps, her eyes fluttering shut as he starts to speed up, letting out a moan that drowns out the one that slips past her lips.

She has no idea what he’s doing differently to August and Lloyd but she prays he keeps doing it because it feels good, amazing even.

Her mind races as she tries to understand what’s happening. Why does she feel bad, so embarrassed and ashamed, when what’s happening right now feels so good?

He moves his hips faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he gropes one of her breasts before pinching her nipple hard, pulling another moan from her.

He slowly glides his hand up her chest to around her neck, squeezing the sides. The sudden restriction of air makes her panic and start clawing at his hands, making him squeeze even more.

Her eyes roll back as a weird pressure builds between her legs, making whatever he’s doing to her feel even better.

It suddenly breaks, making her moan loudly as a pleasant burning sensation washes over her, before everything goes black…

VENERIS FILIA TAG LIST: @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @themaradwrites @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @aussieez @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @ktficworld @sillyrabbit81 @juliaorplI78 @kingliam2019 @thebejeweledwatercat @red-write-hand @queenzee27 @therockandaroll

[rafaslittleboy]

a hand to hold mine

pairing: sonny carisi/little sister!reader

description: sonny’s baby sister is a victim of a hostage situation. things come to light, and sonny considers what you are to him.

rating: dead dove don’t eat, dark fic, taboo fic. incest relationship between older brother and (legal) little sister. reader is taken hostage and sonny makes everything all better. hospital sex. bio brother/sister porn. fingering, clit rubbing, orgasms, loss of virginity, unprotected p-in-v sex, some dirty incest talk. (if I missed any out, let me know!)

if you’re sensitive, don’t read!

dc: @flowercrowns-goodvibes bc she wanted it sooooooo badly

When Carisi got the call that a girl, between the age of eighteen and twenty-two, had been caught in a hostage situation, Amanda had told him to come down immediately.

As an ADA, he barely got to go to hostage situations. But the perpetrator? He asked for Carisi specifically.

Someone he had crossed back in his detective days, by the looks of it.

As soon as Dominick arrived, he was given a bullet proof vest and Amanda filled him in on the situation.

Man, in his late thirties, has a record for pedophillia and murder, was let out on good behaviour only two weeks prior. His name was David Ortez—and Sonny was the undercover cop that built a case against him and put him away.

“it’s your sister, Sonny.” Amanda told him, sympathy in her tone.

“My… my sista’?”

What one? Was the question. He had four sisters, Bella, Theresa, Gina—and the baby sister, you. Just started college, your whole life ahead of you.

Amanda said your name and suddenly Carisi felt light headed. Bile rising in his throat.

“How long has she been in there?” He said, and he could barely hear himself.

“Almost an hour, listen… he’s done a number on her. He phoned nine-one-one every time he hurt her.”

Sonny clenched his fist. David Ortez was a disgusting man. When Sonny was undercover, that man told him in detail about the things he watched, things he done to his kids, his nieces and nephews. Things that made him sick then and made him sick now. And now he had you, his little sister, of all people.

“He’s phoning again.” Olivia raised her finger for everyone in the trailer to stop talking. She answered the phone.

“David?”

“Miss. Benson… it’s been a long time since we last spoke. How’ve you been? How’s Noah?”

David smiled into his phone. He watched through a blind spot in the window, watched how the building he was in was barricaded by armed police. Kept his eyes on the white trailer dead centre of the road.

“What do you want, David?” She spoke.

“I want to speak to Carisi.”

Sonny took the phone from Olivia’s hand despite her orders for him to stay quiet. He wasn’t a detective anymore, she said, you’re an ADA.

“I’m here.”

“Dominick.” The man smiled into the phone. “Got your baby sister here, she was stupid enough to help a poor… injured man.”

The way you became his hostage in the first place was because he had came up to you after your class, faking a stabbing. Spending the last two weeks stalking you, understanding your routine and schedule—and he got you at the right time. As soon as David got you into a room, he pistol whipped you and kicked you in your side to keep you down.

“She’s got a kind heart,” Sonny said, “how ‘bout you just let ‘er go? Huh? This is ‘tween you n’ me.”

“No can do, Dominick. Think I might keep her, actually. Take her abroad, get her pregnant, start a family with her. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

David traced the gun up your temple, smirking down at you.

He had your hands tied behind your back and has you sat against the wall below the window. A strip of duct tape over your mouth.

And David had beat you well. Bruising littering your body, your nose bleeding and a gash in your forehead and eyebrow dripping blood down your face.

“No way in hell.” Carisi growled at the David.

“Am I on speaker phone?”

“Yes.”

“Take me off. Unless you want your squad to learn some real shitty stuff about you.”

Sonny looked around, Olivia, Amanda, Joe and everyone else who was in the trailer was looking at him.

Olivia gave him a nod of permission, and Sonny pressed the button on the phone. It was just Sonny and David now.

“Good. Don’t think I don’t remember what you told me. What I made you do.”

To gain David’s trust while Sonny was undercover, he had to befriend David. And David was paranoid, it took months for David to trust him.

“One thing,” David said.

“Anythin’” Sonny replied.

“Prove what you did to her. Your little sister? You told me you raped her since she was four. Looked through your wallet and you have a photo of her.”

“What about her?”

“Want you to jerk over her. Now.” And David passed Sonny the picture of you as a little girl. Sonny kept it in his wallet for a reason to keep going, to keep doing what he was doing.

Sonny held the picture between his fingers and he looked down at the picture of you. He swallowed, hard and looked at David and nervously smiled, “C’mon… I’m past that now.”

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

The picture was placed back in his wallet ten minutes later, stained with his milky cum.

Sonny hears you yelp, and he can’t imagine what David is doing to you. “Don’t touch her.”

“Why? Give me a reason not to rape her right now, Dominick.”

“She… she—I ain’t ever… done what I said I did. To her. I was undercover, had to learn more about ya.”

“Obviously. This little girl adores you; fairly obvious you didn’t do a thing you said you did.” And he tugs on your hair.

“You put me away, Dominick. Worked your way into my head and put me back in prison. Do you know what they did to me in there? Do you?!”

David yelled down the phone.

“David… I’m sorry, if it were up’ta me, it would’ve never of happened.”

“But that’s the thing, Dominick. You had a choice. And now, so do I. Life is all about making the right choices.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the barrel of the gun stared back at you. Your breathing got worse.

“Theres two ways this can go. Put me back on speaker phone.”

Sonny done as he was told. Immediately.

“Option one: I shoot the little girl and then myself. You never get to see her again. You never get closure.”

David pauses. Sonny’s palms are sweaty. His heart beating out of his chest.

“Option two: You get me a car, you get me a million dollars and I take your little sister anywhere I want. And I promise you. I’ll keep her alive.”

Both options take you away from your brother. Away from your family, friends—the life you built.

��I’ll give you ten minutes to decide. And if you don’t? Well…” David took the safety off the pistol. “I’ll decide for you. Times ticking, Dominick Carisi.”

Then the line went dead.

Sonny threw the phone on the desk and wiped a hand down his face.

“I’ll get a car,” Olivia told him. “We have two Snipers are already aimed at the door, Sonny, don’t worry. We’ll get him.”

If only Sonny could believe that. He’s seen how some of these things go. How there’s no happy endings.

“It’s option two; we get a car, lure him out and shoot him dead.”

“Nah, no.” Sonny put a hand on his hips. “Could hurt her. I ain’t gonna hurt my lil’ sister.”

“Sonny, hurting her is the least of our problems. We want her alive, and we want her out. Now. This way, we get her out and she’ll be alive and she’ll be safe.”

Sonny bit his lip. Amanda was right. This was the only option they had to take. The only option Sonny could agree to.

“Call him back. We have a car on the way.” Olivia told him.

And sonny picked up the phone and dialled David back. David picked up within the first ring.

“Dominick. Your choice?”

“Two. I have a car on the way, we have your money. I know you, David, you… you stick to your word. I know you’ll take care’a my sister.”

“Good choice, Carisi. Knew you’d come to your senses. Hey, I’ll send you a postcard when she births my children. Don’t get too jealous.”

David watches as a black Jeep pulls up outside the barricade and how the police move around it, to give him space. “My money in that car, Carisi?”

There was no money. The objective out of this situation was to shoot David point blank.

“Yes,” Sonny replied. “It’s all in there. In a bag. Untraceable. The car’s untraceable, too.”

“Wow,” David smiled, “Really doing everything to protect your sister, eh? Do you remember when I made you look at a picture of her, made you jerk your cock over her?”

The phone was on speaker. Everyone could hear what David was saying.

“No.” Sonny swallowed. “I don’t.”

He does. It crosses his mind frequently.

“I do. I don’t blame you.” David lowers the phone to you, “Hey, sweetheart. You wanna say goodbye to your big brother?”

“S—sonny—“ you sob. And it’s the first time he’s heard your voice in months. He regrets leaving your text messages on delivered or read, he regrets not reaching out to you, calling you.

“Hey, doll,” he panics, he brings the phone to his ear. “You’re gonna be okay, doll, my little angel.”

“Of course she is, she’s gonna be my wife.”

David grabs your arm and pulls you up. “Bye, Carisi.” And he hangs up.

David brushes off your shoulder and smiled wickedly at you. “It’s just you and me now, little one. Your brother gave us his blessing.”

You start crying again. Closing your eyes just so you don’t have to look at this horrible man. In your little mind, he’s won. He’s going to take you god knows where and you’ll never get to see anyone you love again. You’ll never get to see your mom, your dad, your older sisters—your big brother.

He’s always been a busy man. Recently, after he came an ADA, he hadn’t had any time for you. It hurt you, but you were a big girl—you could understand that sometimes his job had to come first.

David ripped the duct tape from your mouth and tapped your bruised and cut cheek.

“Oh, don’t cry, baby.” David cooed, “it’ll all be fine soon enough. come on, start walking.”

David shoved you forward and put the gun at your spine. It was enough for you to do as you’re told. You walked, but you couldn’t feel yourself walk. It was as if you were floating.

David opened the door and the sun blinded you, your eyes flinched at the bright light.

Inside the trailer, Amanda was staring at the computer screen. “We have eyes.” Amanda yelled and Sonny didn’t waste any time and pushed past Olivia to leave the trailer.

He saw you, oh god, he saw you. You were there, alive. Breathing. His beautiful little sister.

“I want a clear pathway!” David yelled, “or the kid dies!”

Sonny was so close. He felt sick.

Sonny thought about how you grew up with him as your role model. He was in his late twenties when you were born, and his ma’ and dad were too busy with work so they handed you off to him. He raised you when they weren’t able to. His life with you flashed through his mind, like it was his last minutes with you. How you grew up to be a pretty little girl. How he isn’t so different from some of these men he puts away.

It’s a thought that he pushes to the back of his mind. A disgusting part of him that only comes out at night.

A part of him that wanted his little sister. And David knew that fact.

David walked down the steps with the gun to your temple. “Your brother is right there, front row seat. You wanna know that he’s real jealous of me right now. He knows that I’m going to fuck you real good, fill you up with my babies. He wants it to be him instead.”

You couldn’t see your brother—wherever he was. You couldn’t see anything. Your eyesight was blurry with tears.

David moves from behind you and walks in front, approaching the jeep.

Not even a second later, a loud gunshot rings out in the air. The bad man slumped to the ground in front of you. Your face splattered with his brains and blood, eyes squeezed shut.

Time went so fast, your ears rang.

Sonny shouted your name as he pushed heavy armed police out of the way and into the barricaded zone, where you were.

You felt arms wrap tightly around you, smooshing you against a broad chest. You recognise the feeling, the safeness of his arms. It was your big brother.

“Sonny,” your voice cracked as he held you tight, he breathed you in. You were here, you were alive, breathing. Hugging him tight to your body.

“S’okay, doll, m’right here.”

His hand cupped the back of your head and started to guide you into the police car just a few feet back. Blood on your face wasn’t a good look, the fear in your eyes made his heart hurt.

His little sister, a little girl he watched grow up, had a gun to her head because he put a rapist—murderer away a few years ago, and he got out early. It was all his fault.

The EMTS came over and tore you from his grasp, telling you that you’re going with them.

“I’m ridin’ with her,” Sonny tells them, “I need’a make sure she’s okay.”

“Okay, Counsellor.” They agreed. “We’ll let the other detectives know.”

———

You had passed out in the ambulance on the way to the hospital and the paramedics had to reassure him that you were okay, that your body probably just had to relax—so it forced itself to sleep.

It didn’t give him the peace of mind they hoped.

You were asleep for around six hours and Sonny didn’t leave your side once. The second you woke up, he sat up and held your hand to his chest.

“Hey—hey,” he weakly smiled, his hand extended and hesitated to touch your hair. “You okay?”

You coughed and looked around the room you were in. “How… did I get here?”

“Ambulance brought ya here, doll, ya passed out just after you sat down.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I just… I was so scared. He… he said he’d shoot me, or he… he’d gut me. He said it all depended on your answers.”

Sonny tears up, and it stings his blue eyes.

“Oh, doll…” Sonny sat forward and kissed your forehead, lingering so you wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “M’so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” You tried to make him feel better, it wasn’t all the time you got to see him emotional.

“It is,” he says and he kisses your forehead repeatedly, “it is—my stupid work, brought ya into this.” and he holds you close, closing his blue eyes tight.

“i love you, sonny” you hiccup.

It was his emotional and vulnerability caused your own emotions to topple over, and you sobbed. Being in his arms, being with him, grounded you and made you understand that you were alive. You were safe. Your big brother saved you.

“I… “ and he doesn’t think, he just leans his chin forward and captures your lips in a soft, timid kiss.

A way a big brother should never kiss his little sister.

But he does it anyway. His big hand on your cheek keeping you close. Your eyes closed, any negative thought you had in your head disappeared as fast as they were thought.

“Was… “ Sonny swallowed, “was that okay?” he says below a whisper. Your eyes slowly open—your lips tingle with the aftermath of him giving you your first ever kiss.

You nod.

“Can… you kiss me again?”

Sonny didn’t expect you to ask for a kiss. He expected you to… well, do something else. Scream, yell, tell him to get out and that you’ll tell your parents. But no, you wanted him to kiss you again.

Sonny chuckled, then tilted his head to kiss you again. This time, with just a little more pressure than his previous feathery kiss. His hand came to cup the back of your head and press your lips harder into his.

As the kiss deepened and got more hot, he licked on the seam of your lips, opening your mouth to him. Taking advantage of your gasp, (obviously you had no idea that that was how real kissing started).

“what if a nurse comes in?” you say, breaking the kiss briefly. Your lips were swollen, breath uneven. Eyes blown.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, babygirl.”

You felt his hands roam up and down your arm slowly, the arm that wasn’t hooked up to machines, that was. He leaned in to kiss you again, humming into your mouth as his slender hand dipped further and further down your arm and onto your thigh.

Sonny’s fingers touch your pussy tenderly outside of your little pink panties, his thumb twirling the little purple bow. Your soft moans as he kissed you just egged him on.

You broke the kiss briefly when you felt his finger slip into the waistband and slowly pulled your panties to the side, the cool air of the poorly conditioned hospital room hitting your hot pussy.

“‘M gonna touch it now, doll.” He whispered against your lips, and you barely had a second before the pad of his middle finger drifted upwards from your slick hole to your clit and he rubbed in slow, big circles.

“oh…” and your brows furred together.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t touched yourself before, it was that no one had ever touched you before. It felt weird—and the wrongness and guilt of the person who was the first to touch you being your older brother was still deep in your tummy.

“You okay?” Sonny says softly. He knows he’s pushing his luck, kissing you after a traumatic experience and now he’s touching you inappropriately. Testing the waters on just how much you’d take what he’d give you.

You could barely nod, barely speak. “f—fine,”

“Feels good?”

And he puts just a little more pressure on your clit and watched how your knees parted open subconsciously.

“yeah,” you breathe.

He couldn’t miss how your eyes couldn’t stop watching from his hand moving between your legs.

Sonny’s eyes are fixed both on your face, how your face contorts to each repeat pleasure of the circles he drew on your clit. And how your hips roll ever so slightly on his finger.

His finger slipped in—and that’s one thing you hadn’t done to yourself. Your fingers had always been too short to reach anywhere. But Dominick’s fingers were long, and just one of them sliding inside you and crooking just enough to press down on something that made you whine what was meant to be his name.

“oh my god—“ you choke. And it’s too much too soon, the way his fingers leave your pussy and push back in and curl has your breathing quicken.

You don’t think—you turn your head and kiss him. Your mind so clouded with lust that you just knew you had to have his tongue in your mouth.

Making out with him sloppily as he speeds up his fingers inside you. The obscene sound of squelching filled the room and Sonny and yourself’s laboured breaths.

“Feels—“ you try but words fail you, “feels—“

“like ya gonna cum on ya big brothers fingers?” Sonny answers for you. He can feel your walls tighten on his fingers, feel how wet you have his hand and dampening the flimsy hospital sheets beneath you just by a simple finger-fuck.

You bite your lip and clench your fists, the orgasm building and building and building—until it burst, and you were cumming, hard, on your brother’s fingers. Squeezing and clamping down those two fingers that were still moving inside you. You moaned your older brother’s name, reaching down to clasp your weak hand over his wrist, puffing out of a breath.

“T—too much.”

Sonny smiles at you, “Doll, ya pussy just keeps tryna suck my fingers back in ya.” And he curls his fingers again and your knees cross, touching each other and thighs clamping down on his hand.

“Could make ya cum again, if ya want. See how you’d take three fingers.”

God, you didn’t know if you could take three of his fingers. His fingers were so long.

“Or… I could give ya my cock instead. Got me real hard after that little show, doll.”

Your mind was fuzzy.

“Please.”

And he smirked, withdrew his fingers from inside you and lifted his knee so he got onto the bed with you. On his knees above you, and he slowly undone his belt and pulled it through the loops.

All he had to do was pull down his fly and pull his cock out.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen Sonny’s cock, having to share a bathroom and your bedrooms across from one another. You had a fair amount of times of walking in on him changing, or in the showering, or pissing into the toilet bowl—only once while he was stroking his cock in the dark, you didn’t see it, but you saw the motions of his hand twisting around his hidden cock.

But you saw it now, hard and poking out from his fly just for you.

“can i… can i touch it?”

And Sonny glances at you, “Course,” and lifts your wrist so your hand replaces his. He bites back a groan but not even a second later it comes out when he feels your small, warm hand softly squeeze his hard cock.

“Jus’ like that, doll.”

You do it again, then you try and copy his previous hand movements by slowly stroking up and down his cock. Getting yourself used to the weird feeling. It looked like hard stone, but in your hand it felt squishy and stiff.

“Is… i think… your… thing… is crying,” you tell him

“Huh?” Sonny peaks open an eye and looks down. The red tip of his cock has a bead of pre-cum that’s threatening to spill out.

“Oh, doll. That ain’t my cock cryin’, means ya makin’ me feel real good.”

You smile slightly, “I like making you feel good, Donmy.”

Oh, god. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the things you done to him just by existing, being innocent, inexperienced. It made him hotter just thinking about how in that hospital room, he had been your first’s.

Sonny needed more. Craved more of you.

He softly wrapped his hand around your own that was still lazily pumping his cock. “M’gonna put it in ya,”

You looked up at him, and then at his cock. Oh, right, he wanted to put it in you. How could you even be surprised? The little videos you watched, the man always put his penis inside the girl. Now it was going to happen to you, a deep pit of nervousness settled in your tummy.

You wondered if you told him right now that you had never had sex, would he shy away? Leave you alone and never speak of it again?

Your rolling negative thoughts were stopped briefly when sonny shifted back and pushed up your hospital gown just over your hips. Your baby sister pussy on display for him. Wet and swollen from the orgasm he so generously gave you.

“That’s a good fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen one,” Sonny licks his bottom lip and dipped his hand down just to touch it again. His cock twitched as he inserted a finger again, so tight just around one finger—he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock.

He quickly took his finger out and wiped your slick on his cock, along with a glob of his own spit. He knew he didn’t need any more lube, you were wet—so fucking wet for him. He loved, in particularly, your little button clit that was already puffy with arousal.

Your older brother had seen your pussy a few times growing up, when he had washed you, or helped you get changed. He was even there when you first started to experiment with touching yourself. He was only trying to give you your freshly clean clothes, but he stopped by the barely open door and was able to see just enough on how you unskillfully tried to rub your clit with one fingertip before giving up due to over sensitivity. The imagine was burned into his head, but he wasn’t complaining.

The tip of his bare cock bumped against said clit and you moaned, hips intuitively raising. Your pussy craved him—his cock—with the need to be filled.

It happened too quickly, Sonny angled his hips just right and pushed lightly against your hole. The feeling of a bulbous tip pressing against you was so good, hell, he watched as your pussy let out yet another streak of wet arousal.

But the second he started to push his hips forward had your heart in your mouth. “Sonny I… I’ve not—“

“‘know, doll,” is all he said back.

Dominick knew full well that he could get in a lot of trouble for this. Detective turned Assistant District Attorney, he knew quite literally all the laws in New York. This was against quite a lot of them. But it didn’t stop him.

He dipped his head to kiss you, swallowing your sounds.

There was no going back when the tip of his cock disappeared inside your virgin pussy. Popping the cervix open, claiming your virginity for himself. Your big brother’s head snapped up to look at your face when you let out a hissed moan due to the fact that his cock broke your hymen.

“You okay?” He breathed.

“Uh huh,” you moan, “it just… hurts a little.”

Sonny was happy he had got you as wet as you were, he couldn’t handle the thought of hurting you. Not unless you asked for it, that was.

Your pussy was so inviting, clenching so tightly around the thick mushroom head of his cock, trying to suck him in until there was nothing else left of him.

“Can I move, kid? Stuff you full’a me?”

And you nodded, “uh huh,”

Sonny bit at your lips, “Gonna need ya to use ya words, can ya do that? Speak up for ya big brother?”

Your walls throbbed, you needed him to fuck you. You needed him to hold you down and pound his cock inside you until it left you paralysed. Your body craved him, his hands and lips and everything about your brother.

And he pushes forward and you can’t stop the whine that escapes your throat, head tipping back only slightly against the hospital pillow as your pussy walls stretched to accommodate the foreign cock—your legs spread wider and Sonny immediately got comfortable.

“God, doll—fuck—“ and he slides right inside you, until the fabric of his dress pants settled against the back of your naked thighs. His full cock was inside you, stretching your walls until his tip was pressing against your untouched cervix. Any guilt he had previously faded away fast, his whole mind was focused on you. Solely you.

“You’re—all the way up here,” you choke and point to where your cervix would be on your tummy. Sonny roughly pushed up the gown over your exposed breasts, leaving you naked for him.

You heard him growl—growl—and it was the most attractive thing you had ever heard in your life.

“Yeah? M’ all the way up here?” And he pressed down where you pointed, and fuck, he felt himself settled deep inside you. He was able to feel the puckered tight hole of your cervix,

“Sonny—“ you moan, and it was loud. If it wasn’t early hours in the morning, someone would have definitely heard you.

“Beautiful lil’ girl—all mine, ain’t ya?” He growled as he started to thrust his hips. It was far too much for your poor cunt, still so sensitive over the orgasm he gave you before—every thrust of his cock inside you has a little spurt of liquid leaving your baby pussy and onto his cock and pants.

“All. Fuckin’. Mine.” He repeats as he feels your wet pussy dampen the crotch of his pants. Your mouth falls open, the arm that isn’t hooked up with wires reaches out to touch Sonny’s bicep to ground yourself.

“So—Sonny—you’re—my—“ and you’re already rendered dumb. Eyes barely able to stay open, unable to make a coherent sentence.

“Yeah, I’m ya big brother, ain’t I? Big brother makin’ ya pussy feel so good, huh?”

The hospital bed shook with the power of his thrusts, the sound of your wet pussy taking his cock over and over again filled the room. You had never imagined sex felt like this, always imagining it as an In-And-Out session.

His hand gripped your chin, “Answer me, doll.”

“Uh huh—yeah—you—you make my p—pussy feel really really good—“ you broke off into a moan as he gives you a thrust that’s hard, punching at your cervix and his balls right up against you.

And you nod, “so—so scared, tho—thought I’d—I’d never see you again.”

Sonny tips his head so his forehead, resting it against yours, his breath fanning across your lips with his efforts in fucking you. “Never gonna let that happen,” and he links your fingers together. “Gonna keep ya safe, keep ya just f’me—keep ya in my apartment, come home to ya everyday n’ fuck you deep every night.”

You moan at his words, “y-you’d do t-that?“

“My lil’ sister, love ya so fuckin’ much, my whole world.” He cuts himself off as he kisses you deeply, and you open your mouth to him and let him explore and get acquainted with your taste and the map of your mouth. “Gonna fill ya up with my cum, doll, hope it fuckin’ takes.”

Your breath hitches at the thought. Belly swelling with his baby—your big brother’s baby.

“Yeah? You like the thought a’ that? Dirty lil’ girl,” he smiles and then one of his hands came between you to rub, rub and rub on your clit and your back arched. “Need ya to squeeze my cock when ya cum, cum real hard f’me,”

“I—i—“ and he kisses you yet again, then you cum. Walls clamping down incredibly hard on his cock and liquid spurting from your pussy. Your orgasm was to powerful that it almost pushed his cock out from your hole, but Sonny pushed back in and fucked you hard through your orgasm.

“Fuck yeah, angel, squirt on my fuckin’ cock—gonna make me fuckin’ cum—“

And he fucked you rough, his cock pounding into you and the sounds you let out were downright pornagraphic.

Sonny squeezes you tight as he feels his orgasm reach its peak and he groans deep, head tipping onto your chest as he fucks his cum deep, deep inside you. Holding both of your hips down onto the bed and fucking you through the remainints of your orgasm and through his own.

You felt him slump down on-top of you, his heavy weight holding you down. You feel… like you’re in bliss, satisfied. Your thighs trembled slightly with pleasure that coursed through your whole body.

That is, until his stomach pressed down on the place you were kicked this morning.

“Ow..” you whine and Sonny quickly sits up, looking concerned.

“Did I hurt ya, doll?” and his hand lightly touches the red blotch of a bruise on your side.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, still breathless. Sonny checks you over anyway, his cock softening inside you as he does it.

Sonny pulls down your gown (after a subtle-not-so-subtle fondle of your breast) and smooths it over. Pulling his cock out of you at the same time, and you hissed at the new feeling of feeling empty.

Sonny wished he could see his cum drip out of you, but that could wait until next time. You needed to recover.

The crotch of his pants was wet with your orgasm, but he didn’t mind.

Sonny grabbed the blanket and pulled it over you, making sure to tuck you in and then settled beside you. “Gonna have ya stay with me for a lil’ while,” he says as he nuzzles into your side, his arm wrapped around you. “Afta’ today? I was… scared for ya.”

“Sonny…” you close your eyes. You hate what happened earlier.

“No, listen to me. Had a gun on me… was about’a go in there n’ shoot him dead before one’a the cops did. He hurt you.. my lil girl, harmed ya pretty face.” And he lifts his head and hand to stroke the few cuts on your cheek. “For peace of mind… I need ya to stay with me. Just for a while. Need’a know it’ll neva’ happen again.”

He held you close.

“what about… us?” You asked him. You just had sex with your brother, your older brother. And you really enjoyed it.

“What do ya want f’r us?” Sonny lifts his head to look you in the eyes.

“I dunno,” you trail off. “I… well, maybe we could… “

“Angel..” he smiles and cocks his head, “ya want me to be ya boyfriend?”

You bit back a smile. “you are my brother…”

“I know that, kiddo.” And he cranes his neck to press his lips to you. “we’ll figure it out, doll.”

[kit4strophe]

I have absolutely no clue what to call this but I was urged to write it, so take some very slight Grayson angst (bc i hate hurting him).

enjoy lovebugs!! <3

I roll my neck. God, two nights in a row. I must be sleeping terribly wrong, I think to myself.

Stretching my arms over my head, I look across the bed to find the left side empty. I grab my phone from the table beside the bed.

5:30 AM.

I groan as I widen my eyes to keep them open. Time to play find the Hawthorne again.

I make my way down the halls, my slippers keeping my steps quiet. I’m almost downstairs when I pass Oren.

“Why are you up so early?” I mumble, my voice not ready to be used yet.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His voice has clearly already been in use.

I yawn. “Finding the second eldest, you?”

He nods. “Finding the second youngest.”

Crossing my arms, I snort. “Oh good luck with that one.”

Oren gives me an empty look. “I appreciate the confidence.”

I shrug and continue my descent down the stairs. “You’ve got the worst end of the deal here, Oren.” I say over my shoulder.

He lets out a scoff and mumbles a “Yeah” as we go our separate ways.

I end up in front of the sliding glass doors that go outside. Squinting, I can see a figure in the pool, the sun rising behind them. My heart drops. I slide the door open and make my way over to the pool.

Grayson is swimming from deep to shallow end and back again. I cross my arms as I watch him move like a fish in the water. Eventually, he finally stops and I can see his shoulders move up and down as he breathes hard.

“Grayson.” My voice does little to spook him as he turns slowly.

“It’s considered impolite to stare.” His voice is weaker than usual, the swimming taking an obvious toll on his breathing.

“It’s considered impolite to leave someone in bed alone too, if we want to go down that road.”

His eyes find mine and I falter. The look of an old, raw pain swims in his gaze.

“Gray.” I breathe.

He turns away from me. I kick off my slippers and move to sit at the poolside. My sleep shorts allow me to put my legs in the heated water.

“Come here.”

He keeps his back to me.

“Please?”

His shoulders sink as he sighs, turning to swim towards me. He comes above water again and slicks his wet hair back. I open my legs a bit, giving him room to stand between them. My hands find his cheeks.

“What’s going on in this head of yours?” I stroke my thumbs along his cheekbones.

He shuts his eyes and I can feel him lean into my touch slightly. “Too much.” He murmurs.

Frowning, I tilt his head up towards me. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He opens his eyes and searches my face, as if he doesn’t really believe that I care.

My eyes soften. “Grayson, you can talk about whatever you’d like with me. I’m always here to listen.”

An emotion that I can’t place washes over him as he clears his throat. “There’s a lot going on and I’m handling it.”

My brow furrows. “Not very well, it seems.”

He rears back as if I’ve wounded him. “Excuse me?” He challenges.

“You may be handling the physical problems but you’re ignoring the mental problems.” I lean my head to the right, examining him.

Dark circles lay under his tired eyes. He looks away from me but I pull his head back so that he’s forced to look me in the eyes.

“You can’t keep everything to yourself, Grayson. It’s not healthy and no one, not even you, can hold all that in.”

He frowns. “I’ve done this for years and I turned out just fine.”

My face falls and I give him a blank stare. “Really? We’re doing this, now?” He blinks back at me so I nod, deciding to play.

“Jameson must’ve been handling things really well, getting drunk every night for months. Oh and Nash, breaking off his engagement to Alisa like that? He definitely handled everything just right.” Sarcasm bleeds through my words.

“I’m not my brothers,” Grayson counters.

“Oh you are absolutely right, I’m so sorry. You staying up late at the foundation most nights and going out to swim at the crack of dawn every morning when we first met was you handling things perfectly.” I throw my arms in the air.

Grayson rolls his eyes. “That’s enough.”

“How can I forget when you went deep into the maze to use your sword every chance you had? Practicing until you were dripping sweat. Again. And again. And again. Over and over.” I stare deep into his eyes.

“I said, enough.” His tone is harsher, clearly affected by my words.

I shrug. “I’m just listing where you’re handling things so well, Grayson. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

Grayson shuts his eyes and drops his forehead against my stomach. “I know. I can’t just stop. I have to keep going.”

I wrap my arms around his head, my right hand rubbing his upper back. “You can stop, Gray. You have to take breaks, it’ll kill you if you keep going like this.”

He sighs against my shirt, turning his head so he can speak clearly. “I know.”

The corners of my mouth turn down and I drag my fingernails up and down his back lightly.

He shakes his head against me.

“I know.” He repeats.

[cleo-writes]

°•Percy Jackson Dating Hcs•°

PT2

《☆》

Note: (the first draft got deleted im so sad) I have read a lot of other hc posts from amazing creators (I do not have names sadly) and most of these are inspired by/built off of their hcs.

Warnings: none!

Enjoy!

《☆》

He's loyal

Like obviously it's his fatal flaw

Whatever

He's loyal without the fatal flaw stuff

Imagine a scenario where someone is flirting with him

(Maybe they know you exist maybe not...)

And they have heart eyes and sound so genuine.

Sounding so convincing when they say they could treat him right.

Percy was gonna be nice and let them go on

But then they do the arm touch thing

Yknow?

And he's immediately leaving the building.

If he can tell this person doesn't know he's taken, he'll politely excuse himself

Or say he's not interested.

But if they're doing it to piss you or him off...

He's gonna start bragging about you

Obnoxious bragging.

At some point everyone's heard percy bragging about you.

But still

"Have you seen my partner fighting in the arena before? No? Oh. My. gods! They're such a good fighter. Here lemme show you a pictur-"

He also posts photos of you a lot

He makes sure every one of his 14 Instagram followers know he belongs to you

No matter how much you refuse.

He's getting a picture at least 3 times a week

You do the same to him as well.

(Let's be honest: you're better at taking photos and gaining followers then he is.)

Not that it really matters to you

Or to him

It's just a one up in any bickering you guys have.

Which strangely happens more then you guys realize.

He skates too

And you better believe he's teaching you how to skate.

Holding your waist, keeping you steady.

He guides you like he's been waiting to teach you this all his life.

He puts extra protection stuff on you

Knee pads, gloves, helmet.

And you're kinda mad bc they're so bulky and weird looking

But so so so grateful to have someone who wants to protect you so badly

From any danger you may ever face.

Monster or mortal.

Percy will protect you, even though he knows very well you can protect yourself

Anyways

If you fall and get hurt

(Idk how with all that padding.)

He's like crying.

Also laughing slightly afterwards

He gets you a little Spiderman band aid

He puts it whoever the barely bleeding scrape is

And then he gives it a little kiss to make it heal faster<33

《☆》

[cuttergauthier]

Secret boyfriend

female Smith reader x Ryan Leonard

Warning: injury, soft Ryan, fluff 

word count: 1.3k

let me know what you guys think🤍

let me know if you guys want me to do an insta edit of them soft launching their relationship!

I love Boston College, the only thing that sucks is doing homework, studying and just like home I hate when it rains and I have to walk. We are currently in the middle of October, and we are having a rainstorm. I've been here since the end of August and it hasn't rained this much.

Usually my brother would come and drive me to my dorm room since we both live in the same building but he was currently out in the city with two of his teammates Drew and Gabe, since they wanted to go see the bruins play in their home opener and they decided to spend the night since all 3 of them only had late classes tomorrow along with a night practice.

I didn’t bring an umbrella and even though it was raining pretty bad, a lot of students were making a run for it either back to their cars or dorms.

I pulled the hood of my hoodie over my head and started walking fast to my dorm.

I was almost there when another student ran right into me making my fall on my knees on the sidewalk.

I grunted my knee hurt like a bitch. The student just yelled sorry and continued to run. He didn't even ask if I needed any help.

I pulled myself up and looked at my knee. It was bleeding. I groaned and started limping the rest of the way since it hurt too much.

Once i got to the building I opened the door and made my way up those steps and to my room. I am thankfully living in a single dorm room and it also has a small bathroom, i tend to stay up late to study sometimes, so being alone means I never have to worry about keeping my roommate up with the lights.

I unlocked my room and walked in, I dropped my bag on the bed and made my way to the bathroom to see if I had anything to clean my knee. I couldn’t find anything. I looked at myself in the mirror, I was soaking wet. I decided to take a quick shower and I could ask someone if they had anything to help me clean my knee after.

I went to my dresser and grabbed my bc hoodie and a pair of black gym shorts before making my way back to the bathroom to shower.

Once I was done my knee still stings. I got dressed and put on some shoes and made my way to the dorm next to mine. I knocked on the door and Jenna answered she’s the first person i met when i moved here, she’s really sweet.

“Hey Y/n, everything okay?” She asked

“Yeah, sorry but would you have anything to clean wounds?” I ask

She pouted and shocked her head.

“No i don’t i’m sorry”

I smile weakly.

“All good, don’t worry about it”

I made my way back to my dorm room and texted my brother, he’s a hockey player so I hoped he might have something in his room. He gave me a key when we first got to bc in case of an emergency so I could still get in.

Me

Hey, do you by any chance have anything to clean wounds in your room?

Will

Yeah, I should have something in the bathroom if not Ryan probably does. Everything okay?

Me

Yeah, I tripped in the rain earlier. Now my knee is bleeding but I don't have anything to clean it with. Then i remembered that you gave me a key incase of emergency & you’re a hockey player so i figured you might have something!😂

Will

True, go check Ryan should be there! Just tell him what happened and he’ll help you!

Me

Thanks, I love you! Have fun at the game ❤️

Will

Love you too & we will❤️

I made my way to my brother and Ryan’s room & hoped they did have some stuff. My knee is really bothering me. I didn’t really want Ryan to know, but he would have found out eventually.

I’ve known Ryan for a few years, since the untdp days, he and my brother were teammates. We started dating a month before the NHL draft but we wanted to keep it on the down low to make sure we would work out since he and my brother are teammates but also best friends, we didn’t want to make it awkward. Will still doesn’t know only both of our parents do, I’m surprised Will hasn’t figured it out yet.

Once I got there I knocked on the door. A few seconds later Ryan opened up. He looked good, he was wearing some sweatpants and his untdp hoodie.

“Hey, did you forget that your brother went to the Bruins game? Or are you here to hang out with your amazing boyfriend” He asked, confused as to why I was there, since I told him I wanted to study tonight.

“No um, Will said you might have stuff to clean wounds, so i came by to check” i said nervously.

“We probably do, come in.” He said. I walked in beside him and followed him to the bathroom.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He asked, concerned.

“It was raining pretty bad when I got out of class and I had to walk back here, so I was trying to rush and then some student ran right into me, and I ended up falling down, scraping my knee,” I said.

“You should have called me, I would have come by to pick you up” he said, giving me a quick forehead kiss before He took the stuff out of the cabinet and set it down before looking back at me.

“Come here, let me take a look." He said, smiling softly. I jumped up and sat down on the counter without hurting my knee worse.

Ryan looked at my knee.

“It’s not too bad” he said, he grabbed some Cotton balls and put some rubbing alcohol on.

“This is probably going to sting,” he said before cleaning my knee with it.

I bit my lip and turned around so he would see that I had tears in my eyes. I wasn’t as tough as my brother or the rest of them.

Once he was done he put on a bandaid.

“They're all done,” he said softly.

I looked up at him to see he was already looking at me. He gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, i could have done it myself” i said smiling softly

“I saw how you turned your head so i wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes yn, it was probably better i did it since it probably would have taken you longer” he said and i looked at him embarrassed.

“Right, um sorry” I said awkwardly, I hate that I embarrassed myself in front of him.

“Hey you don’t need to be embarrassed about that, it’s just you and I here, I'm not going to make fun of you, I love you too much” he said smiling.

“Thanks Ry, I love you too,” I said smiling back.

He moved away so I could get down from the counter. He put the stuff away and we went back to the room.

“I was just about to put on a movie, do you want to stay a while?” He asked

“Sounds good to me, I don't feel like studying anymore” I said smiling. He chuckled.

He laid down on his bed and pulled me down with him. He pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arm around my waist. He kissed the back of my head and turned on a movie.

A few minutes later I was trying to keep my eyes open but I was losing, it didn’t take long for Ryan to notice. His thumb rubs soft circles on my waist.

“Go to sleep beautiful, i’ll be here when you wake up” he whispered.

“Love you” i whispered softly

“Love you too beautiful” he placed a soft kiss behind my ear, a few seconds later i fell asleep.

[criminalamnesia]

Intertwined

warnings: blood, angst, heavy themes briefly mentioned (murder, alcoholism, PTSD), undefined age gap between price and reader (just a few years), not completely proofread, she/her pronouns used

summary: missions with price never seem to go as planned.

author’s note: I have no clue what this is. I just wanted to write for Price, and ended up with this long one-shot. I also tried sort of a new writing style, so let me know what you think! also this is sorta an oc x price bc I’ve given somewhat of a backstory and the callsign “viper” but you could also read it as a reader insert! :)

Sometimes she didn’t know how she got here.

Blood soaked her shirt. Her shoulder throbbed. Her fingers were sticky with blood– hers and her attacker’s.

He had gotten her good– the knife was still sticking out of her left shoulder. She knew better than to remove the blade. They were in the middle of nowhere; jungle spanned for miles around. She’d be lucky if she didn’t bleed out before her team found her.

“Viper,” Price over the radio. “Status?”

“Took a hit,” she said through gritted teeth, yanking her own knife out of her attacker’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound, pooling around the dead body. His eyes were still open, staring at her. She ignored them.

“Jus’ the shoulder. I’m good,” she told her captain. She could hear Price grunt in response. If she were anyone else, she might have thought that he didn’t care. But she wasn’t, and she knew he was concerned– worried, even.

There wasn’t anything he could do. He was too far away and in the middle of his own fight. She didn’t need his help, anyways. As she always told him:

“I’m a big girl, Cap. I can handle myself.”

That always earned an unamused hum from him.

“Keep moving then,” the crackle of his voice on the radio broke her from her thoughts.

“Roger that, Cap.”

She really didn’t know how she got here.

She hadn’t been interested in the military. Hell, it wasn’t even on her radar. She had been a girl from a shitty, small town with a decent family. She wanted to go to university, get a job, start a family.

Now she was alone in the middle of a jungle, a knife in her shoulder, and the mission the only thing she truly cared about. Well, one of the only things.

Price had found her when she was twenty-two. He wasn’t even a captain yet.

“You alright?”

His voice had startled her. She hadn’t known anyone else was in the room. Her head nodded instinctively, her eyes still on the dead bodies of her family strewn before her.

“Sir, we’ve got a survivor.” He was speaking into his radio. She heard a voice respond, but whatever was being said didn’t register in her mind.

She would come to find out later that her family wasn’t as decent as they had seemed. Her father had been in deep with a drug-lord. He’d betrayed him, ratted him out to the cops– and next thing she knew, she was sitting in a pool of her family’s blood.

Price had helped her up from the floor. Her pants were soaked through with blood. A bullet had grazed her cheek, leaving a nasty cut in its wake. Somehow she had survived, barely hurt. She didn’t think she deserved it.

She thought she should’ve died with her family.

“What’s your name, dove?” He asked her, his hand wrapped gently around her bicep. He led her out of the room. They passed more soldiers.

She told him. He said it was a pretty name. He didn’t leave her until she was situated in a hotel, two hours away. She hadn’t insisted he stay– yet he had. Perhaps he knew that she needed someone to just sit there.

Before he left, he put his number in her phone. He shouldn’t have– he knew better. But there was something about her, he just couldn’t help it. He told her to call if she needed anything. She never did.

He ran into her a year later by pure luck. She had fallen down a hole. Dropped out of school. No job, no friends. An alcoholic with a death wish. Price had saved her. He gave her a purpose. He made her smile again.

“You good, Cap?” She was moving again, eyes scanning her surroundings, her gun in her hands.

“Peachy,” was his response. She snorted.

He didn’t say anything else, and neither did she. It was supposed to be simple reconnaissance mission. In, gather intel, out. Simple.

Funny how the simple missions always seemed to go south the fastest.

“Cap,” it was Gaz now, finally piping up. He’d been quiet for some time. “Target spotted. Next moves?”

Price didn’t respond. A gunshot sounded in the distance.

“Shit,” she hissed, picking up her pace. “Captain, how copy?”

Nothing. Her blood was pounding in her ears.

“Viper, position?” She could hear the worry in Gaz’s tone.

“Heading towards the gunshot. Stay on target, Sergeant.”

“Roger,” Gaz spoke.

She raised her gun as she stepped through the foliage, hoping that when she found Price, he was still breathing.

“You broken?” Price was talking to her, a hand outstretched as he stood over her. She huffed, reaching up a shaky hand to take his.

“Not the first time I’ve been shot at.” She spoke, her voice steady, but he knew better. She was shaking like a leaf– and Price knew. He knew that she was back in that moment, seeing the blood pool around her. Seeing those lifeless eyes, lifeless bodies. It had been two years, but those images were still as fresh in her mind as if it had happened yesterday.

“Right,” he said, his tone disbelieving. “If you’re gonna stay with me, kid, you’re gonna have to keep up.”

She had kept up. She had worked ten times harder than those around her just to keep up. She was at a disadvantage– she didn’t have training or discipline. She didn’t want to follow just anyone into a firefight. She wanted to follow him.

“Price,” she was trying him again. She could hear the leaves rustling nearby. “You broken?”

A cough. Not just over the radio– to her left, too. She picked up her pace, jogging as she moved towards the sound.

“I’m solid,” he finally spoke into the radio as she found him. He looked up as she pushed past low-hanging branches. “Gaz, status?”

Gaz was talking, but she didn’t hear anything he said. She moved to the captain, eyes scanning him for his wound. He got hit in the thigh. She withheld a sigh of relief.

“Fancy new jewelry,” Price teased, the hand not pressing at his wound reached up to tap the hilt of the blade. She hissed and jerked away from him.

“This the thanks I get for coming to help your old ass?” She replied, holstering her gun and reaching for his pack. He’d gotten it partway off before giving up. She tugged it the rest of the way off his body, then began to dig for bandages.

“Thanks, dove,” he said, his voice a familiar, conceding grumble.

She pulled out the supplies and swatted his hand away from his thigh. Blood oozed from the wound. Price gave the slightest wince as she began to wrap the bandage, pulling tight in hopes of stanching the bleeding.

“Why didn’t you take it out?” He questioned, breaking the silence.

“Risk of bleeding out. Didn’t have bandages,” she shrugged. He gave a disapproving hum.

“I’ve been telling you that you need to better prepare–”

“Save the lecture for when we’re home, yeah?” She interrupted, tying off the bandage. He grunted in response.

“Cap, Viper, I’ve got the intel. What’s your position?” Gaz was talking again.

“We’re moving back towards the truck,” she said, earning an eyebrow raise from Price. “Meet you there.”

“Copy.”

Without a word between them, she ducked forward and slung one of his arms over her good shoulder, tucking herself into his side. She slowly helped him up, his only protests coming in the form of barely-there grunts.

“You broken?” She asked again once he was on his feet.

“I’m fine,” he replied, trying to hobble forward ahead of her. She scoffed and hurried to help him, wincing a little as his hand brushed the knife still in her shoulder.

“Should’ve pulled that damn knife out,” he grumbled.

“I’ll pull the knife out and stick it in your other leg, old man,” she huffed in response.

“That’s no way to talk to your captain.”

“Lecture when we’re home,” she reminded him.

“I don’t need a lecture, John.” She had seethed. Three years into her service. She was twenty-five, now. “You of all people should understand.”

“What I understand,” he began. “Is that you’re risking what you’ve built here.”

“Over seeing that guy for drinks? Are you kidding?”

“You’re being childish.” He said. His arms were crossed over his chest. He looked angry. She didn’t understand why.

“I’m trying to live again! You dug me out of that hole, John. I’m grateful for that. But I’m fine now– I don’t need a babysitter. I want to rebuild my life– make connections.”

“You’ve made connections. Me, Gaz–”

“Maybe I want something more!” She interrupted. “Maybe I want something more than a mission. More than a man who pities me and brought me here to clear his guilty conscience.”

Price bristled. “You know that’s not true.”

“I don’t know anything with you. We’re comrades, we’re friends, we’re something m–”

“Alright,” his voice was tense. “Go then.”

The truck was up ahead. Gaz wasn’t there yet. She inhaled deeply as she helped Price towards the passenger’s side.

“I can drive,” he told her. She rolled her eyes.

“Gaz is driving.” She slipped out of his grasp and left him leaning against the hood of the truck before moving to open the passenger door. “Can you make it a few steps, or do I need to help you?”

He said something under his breath, but she didn’t catch it. She watched as he limped forward, one hand on the car to support his movement. Once he made it to the door, she grabbed one of his arms to help.

“You should be keeping watch,” he scolded, but there was no real bite behind his words.

“I’d rather not have to deal with you falling and breaking a hip.”

He gave another huff– but she could see a hint of amusement on his face. He was only a handful of years older than her, but she always teased him about it. He acted annoyed, but most of the time she could tell he was trying not to laugh at her jabs. At least, she liked to think he was.

She helped him get into the truck, and he didn’t complain. They were both quiet as they moved. It was a well-practiced routine at this point. One gets hurt, one helps. Get them into the truck. Get them into the helicopter. Keep them breathing, whatever it takes.

“Viper, you die on me and I’m gonna kill you,” Price seethed, his hands pressing down hard on her abdomen. She had already lost too much blood. Her eyes were barely open.

She gave a weak chuckle at his words. “We… both know… you’re dyin’ first, old… man.”

Once he was settled in the passenger seat, she shut the door and scanned the area. It was quiet, which meant one of two things.

They were in the clear, or they were fucked.

“Gaz,” Price was back on the radio. “Position?”

One beat. Two. Three.

“Almost there– shit! They’re on my tail!” Gaz was panting over the radio.

They were fucked.

Her eyes widened as she ran to the other side of the truck, throwing open the driver’s door and jumping in. Price glanced her way, but said nothing.

She winced as she moved, the knife still in shoulder an obstacle as she frantically fumbled for the keys they’d hidden in the truck, just in case shit hit the fan.

“Price, Viper, we gotta go!” Gaz was yelling as he pushed his way into the clearing, sprinting to the truck and all but diving into the truck bed.

“I know, I know!” She shouted back, fear crawling up her spine. No matter how often she was in these positions– having to act fast or be killed– she could never shake the absolute panic that consumed her.

“Viper, focus,” it was Price, his voice bringing her back. His voice always brought her back.

Gunshots could be heard nearby. Some hit the truck and Gaz was yelling. She finally found the keys, shoved under a pile of junk in the center console. She jammed them into the ignition and the truck sputtered to life.

“Fuck, go! Go!” Gaz was returning fire, shooting into the foliage as men pushed into the clearing. Price grabbed his own gun and leaned out the passenger side window to cover them.

“I’m going!” She yelled back indignantly, stepping on the gas. The truck lurched forward, nearly throwing Gaz out.

“Viper, watch it!” He called over the gunfire.

She didn’t reply, too busy on trying to get them out of that damn jungle. Bullets dinged off the metal of the truck, but none of them hit home. She inhaled deeply as the gunfire eventually stopped, and they were in the clear.

“Bloody hell, Viper, you trying to kill me?” Gaz peeked his head through the rear window, staring at her. She rolled her eyes, hands clutching the wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

“That’s enough, Gaz,” Price. Gaz didn’t protest, but she knew he was grumbling under his breath.

“Viper, what the hell are you doing?” Gaz was yelling at her as she stared through her scope, her eyes locked on her target. Her finger itched the trigger, but she just couldn’t bring herself to pull it.

The man had looked startlingly like her father. Her father, who had gotten almost his entire family murdered. Her father, who had lied and cheated and sealed his own fate. She didn’t know why– but she couldn’t pull the trigger.

All she saw when she looked at that man was the image of her father, smiling at her at the dinner table. Her father, teaching her how to ride a bike without training wheels. Playing games with him in the backyard. Watching movies with him. Her father.

Price shouldn’t know– couldn’t. But he did, apparently. “Gaz,” his voice was stern. “Enough. She’s got it.”

She took the shot.

“If I was tryin’ to kill you,” she threw the words at him over her shoulder. “You’d be dead.”

Gaz snorted, but didn’t take the bait. She didn’t know if she had wanted him to. Silence fell around them, then.

“Safe house is up ahead,” Price broke the silence that had consumed them for the past twenty minutes. “No bickering when we get inside, you two. Like a bunch of damn kids,” he said under his breath.

The safe house was a dilapidated little cottage on the edge of a forest. It was hidden enough to the naked eye that no one unwanted should stumble upon them, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t be cautious. She slowed the truck to a stop behind a thick bush nearby, just in case.

The three clambered out of the truck, grabbing previously discarded gear and trudging through overgrown grass to the house. Gaz went in first to sweep the house. Once he gave the all clear, she and Price beelined for the small kitchen. Gaz was somewhere else– probably the shower.

This was their routine. Find safety and patch each other up. He usually helped her first, but she forced him into a rickety wooden chair before he could so much as gesture at the knife still in her shoulder.

Her hands were shaking as she untied the bandage around his thigh. His chin was tilted down, eyes watching her as she worked. Neither said a word. Another part of their routine.

Safety. Silence. Stitches.

She cleaned the wound. He barely flinched. She threaded the needle. He breathed in. She looked up at him, a silent signal. He breathed out as she pushed the needle into his skin and sewed the wound shut.

“Thanks, dove.” He spoke when it was done.

She gave a small nod as she finished tying off the clean bandage. She stood and started towards the kitchen sink, but one of his hands grabbed hers.

She looked down at him, still situated in the chair. His thumb brushed the back of her red-stained hand.

“Captain…” she breathed out, her eyes meeting his.

There was a softness in his gaze that she would never truly understand. She didn’t know what he saw in her.

She didn’t know why he had done what he did for her. Stayed with her after that night, all those years ago. Put his number in her phone. Pulled her out of that hole she put herself in. Helped her through her recovery. Trained her, believed in her, stuck his neck out for her.

He released her hand.

She really didn’t know how she got here.