#tris prior x reader

[allthornsnopetals]

Psychotic Blond (J.Matthews)

:Description: You should have never kissed her.

:A/n: This took up a lot more time than I intended. If you want a part II, inform me and I'll do that.

:TW: not proofread, a bit of animal abuse, mention of rape, slight spice, a bit of obsessive behavior, mention of stalking, the reader is a bi female :)

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You could have taken another route to advanced math, but Natalie, your new-found friend, wanted to use the ladies-room. When she had exited the stall, you both said your fair-wells and continued to class. You sped-walked as quickly as possible.

When you stepped into the room, you didn't expect the teacher to be absent, leaving no one supervising the oddly silent room. You shrugged and looked around until your eyes settled on your group of blue and white friends, who wave and prob's you over, showing that they had reserved a seat for you. You giggle at their antics and take David's hand as he guides you up the steps, to your seat, where you sit and take out your books and stationery.

The room is round like a circle with hundreds of seats and desks with rows of them layered after the other, like a layered cake with a large white-board plastered on the far front wall that also acts a projector. It's a strange site not seeing your teacher hunched over his large desk with his computer, typing away like he always does when he is finished instructing your class on what to do.

"Where is Mr. Flee?" You ask with your chin in your hand, your eyes scanning the room.

"Don't know," says Chloe while pinning her urban hair into a knot with her pencil. "Oh my days, why is Jeanine hard-core staring at us? Is she aware she's painfully obvious?" Chloe points at Jeanine.

Your eyes follow her finger. You make eye contact with the blonde and smile, but she turns back around, shoving her nose into her book. Jeanine Matthews is your father's friend's daughter, who you have been aware of since early childhood, but never really became friends with because you were always studying and she's... well, she was strange.

She sat at the front, so whenever she turned around, it was obvious. Was there something she found interesting? Did something poke her curiosity?

Chloe throws her head back as she bellows a laugh that almost sounds like a hillbilly, causing the room to vibrate and wake a few heads that turn to search for the source. Your eyes widen so largely at how many neck cranes that you feel embarrassed and clap a hand over her loud mouth, shutting her up.

You smile tightly. "Sorry, something must have been funny." You croak, your voice barely audible as your cheeks flush a hideous pink.

Once the attention of the others re-directs to their own business, you pull your hand away and wipe it—onto your dress-skirt— clean of her saliva she pasted onto your palm. You grimace in disgust.

"Yuck, you're gross and—."

"She's staring again." Said Chloe, this time sounding irradiated—all humor; vanished and gone.

You just shrug. "Ignore her. She'll eventually stop." You said while winching as Chloe dug her finger nails into your thigh.

You love Chloe, but sometimes she can be intense, especially when she's jealous. Everyone knew you and Chloe were dating. You didn't know when your relationship started, but she kissed you, and you kissed back— after you came out as bi and found yourself stunned when she kissed you.

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It has been seven weeks since the last time Chloe spoke to you. She's been irritated and even snapping more often whenever someone mentions Jeanine and her creepy staring. She was over it, and apparently over with you. So, yes, she broke things off because she didn't like the idea of someone staring?

Did she feel self-conscious? You laugh at the thought, after all, you were together for almost three years.

Are you drowning in your own sorrow at a party you don't want to be at while sitting on the staircase of David's house with a glass of untouched wine? Yes. Yes, you are.

You sniffle, ignoring the presence sitting beside you. It wasn't until the presence beside you asks a question that you then decided to acknowledge it. You turn your attention to it, and to your surprise, it's Jeanine. She smiles, her lips stained cherry-pink with her hair flowing over her shoulders, her blue—tight—dress modest yet scandalous with the open V front—exposing her plump chest.

You scan her, your eyes eating her up as if you weren't weeping over your ex. You felt a tingle of jealousy.

Hell, she looks better than me, and I took an hour to get ready, you thought.

You forget Jeanine was watching you and round your gaze back to her face, your eyes blowing open at the reminder.

You clear your throat. "Oh, sorry, I didn't quite hear what you said. Could you repeat your question?" You ask, watching her lean forward, her cheeks awake with color— she must have caught you basically checking her out.

"I asked if you were okay?" Jeanine repeats, her breath warm against your ear.

"I'm as okay as it's going to get, hon. I'll be fine... Eventually. Are you okay? You seem a bit lost." You said, now staring at her and her lost gaze.

Is she okay? She seems misplaced.

She sucked her bottom lip in, nodding. She's even closer now. She was shifting closer, her eyes drifting to your open cleavage dress and to your lips. You lose yourself for a second, but turn your head forward just as Jeanine begins leaning in.

But that doesn't stop her.

"Do you feel lonely now? Do you wish to forget about Chloe?" Jeanine whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. She takes the glass out of your hand, drawing your attention.

She doesn't drink from it but smiles. Her toothy grin was something, not even Chloe could come close to. Before you could stop yourself, you were grinning at her.

She took the opportunity to quickly lean forward and snatch your lips into her own. Her lips were soft, plump, and warm. So you kissed her.

Yes, you felt lonely, and yes, you did wish to forget about Chloe—so, did you kiss her back to hopefully fill the lingering hole in your chest? Yup, you sure did.

You part, taking your glass back and bringing it to your lips, taking some of the red liquid past your lips. You put the glass down and cup Jeanine's cheeks— she opens her mouth and tilts her head back, accepting the now warm contents as you pour it from your mouth to hers.

You grin proudly as she swallows it. "Good, very good. Now sit still and feel me, if you wish." You straddle her lap and lick a rouge drop from the corner of her lip, already feeling her impatient hands groping your ass.

You bring her lips back to yours, kissing her and suppressing a moan as she slaps your ass before gripping it again. Without a fight, she allows you to slip your tongue in, and once you're in; she's diving around, allowing you to take charge. You suck on her tongue, rewarding you with a pleasured moan, tasting the drink.

Her hands climb up your back and feel the opening of your exposed dress —it was exposed in the front and the back. Frankly, Jeanine was enjoying it. But guilt filled the pit of your stomach, painfully burning. You released a sob and pushed her away, stumbling as you stood.

She stares at you with worry in her eyes, thinking she did something wrong.

You shake your head. "I'm sorry... I-." You sob again, hiccuping now.

Jeanine reaches for you, but you pull away. You choke out another apology and make a quick get-away, snatching yourself drinks and chugging them back on your way out of leaving David's.

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The next morning you're pissed drunk and grateful for the weekend. You roll over, now realizing that you slept with nothing but your bar and panties on. You drink the bottle of water on your nightstand with painkillers and roll back over, falling back to sleep until you hear your alarm go off.

You wake feeling a lot lighter in the head and get ready for the day and walk into the kitchen.

"Well, well, well. Isn't it Tulip. How are you, hon?" You smile at the stranger drinking his coffee, hunched over the kitchen island.

"I'm fine, Mr Matthews." You reply, swiftly passing his attempt to hug and go straight for his coffee.

You take a swig and don't give it back until you have your full. He chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"Oh, Y/n you know my daughter, right? Jeanine stop staring and say hi." He waves Jeanine over and immediately you feel like dying.

You can't tell if she's mad at you but she should be.

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After an awkward breakfast that was filled with Jeanine's strange staring your father allows you and your blond guest to leave. But what were you supposed to do with her? Play chess, read, push her out of your house and never breathe around her again?

Your father takes notice of your weird behavior and says, "Y/n, why don't you take Jeanine to your quarters and hangout there?" He suggests with an eager grin.

You mirror his smile and take Jeanine's hand, taking her up the main flight of stairs. You turn right, down the corridor that leads to your quarters and pause.

"I'm sorry about last night," You blurt out as you face her, fiddling with your fingers. "It wasn't cool or fair for you or myself. I swear you did nothing wrong, I apologize."

You expected her to be enraged, perhaps even yell at you. But she just smiled. "No, that's okay. But I will admit, I did feel a bit hurt when you left me there..." her grin grows wider and larger as she stalks closer to you.

"But I'm sure you can always make it up to me at some point."

Her face was only inches away from yours now. The slightest move forward could cause a remake of last night— minus the crying and running out.

"At some point." You remind her, sterner than intended and continue your march to your goal location.

Your father said quarters, which it was. You push the round double doors open and reveal a living room. In the front right corner lived a fire place with a glass coffee table with a chess board on top of it, a white leather lounge on the left-wide side and two smaller cushion-leather chairs on its smaller length sides.

In the center lives another glass coffee table but bigger in size with a matching lounge like the one in the right front corner, resting on it: is a fruit bowl and a glass water pitcher with three glasses. On the left far corner is a black piano and a harp that you learned to play as a child and still play as a way to learn and cope.

The wooden floor clinks against the footsteps of you and Jeanine heeled shoes. Her eyes look around the room in pure awe and curiosity. It wasn't just a living room but also a library with large shelves, holding all sorts of books. On both sides are round staircases, built into the shelves that lead to the second and final floor of the library, which also acts as more shelves for books.

On the left side is a large round window that stares over the main library of Erudite that is also used as a source for natural light. Resting at the feet of the window is an alcove; a large nook in the window, sprouting out a plush navy blue sofa, complemented with white wood that copies the walls.

Lastly, on the back wall is another set of round double doors that lead to your room.

All families with parents and partners with a high IQ—a sign of high status and wealth, due to work—homes look this way, with living quarters or chambers unlike typical homes or apartments like most factions or individuals with lower IQ's/status. Jeanine is no stranger to the chambers concept, but the way her eyes devoured the room almost made you think otherwise.

You pour her a glass of water while eyeing her, observing her carefully as if trying to figure out what was lurking behind her icy blue eyes. She was strange you knew that as fact. But you never knew her attraction to other girls, let alone you. Her constant starting should have been a tell-tale sign but when you were both still tiny humans, she did do odd things that also should have been a dead give away for affection.

For example, when you were just learning how to cook, you sliced your finger open. It bled all over your new blue and white dress and you wept as a reaction to the pain. But there was nothing to stop the bleeding; no cloth, no tissue. Nothing. Until there wasn't. Jeanine had popped your finger into her mouth and used the leverage to guide both you and her to your father, who stared wide-eyed and slightly amused at the sight of your finger in Jeanine's mouth, as if it were the only solution.

Ever since, she kept her distance. Only appearing when you need help or comfort like last night.

"Odd, girl." You mutter under your breath while drawing Jeanine's attention with a slight 'ahem'.

"For you." You offer the glass and sit, tucking your long blue skirt under your buttom.

She takes it with a grin and joins you.

"I like your living quarters, especially the roof," she points up at the painted ceiling. It was a clear blue sky with doves and ravens. "It's beautiful." She compliments.

"Thank you, it took me almost a year to finish."

Jeanine stares at you, wide open, revealing her pink tongue and pearly-white teeth. "You painted that masterpiece?" Jeanine shrike, her finger still pointing upwards.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her surprise. Of course she wouldn't know, she has never stepped into your living quarters before.

You nod. "Yes. I used to paint a lot when I was younger, before my tastes changed and I moved onto music." You explain, pointing your index finger to the two instruments in the room.

"You're a true source of talent, Y/n. You're beautiful, intelligent, and a real aesthete." Said Jeanine while taking a short sip of her water before placing it down on a blue coaster, on top of the table.

Your cheeks burned with color, it made your stomach clench and flutter. Jeanine Matthews: a flirt, who would have guessed it. Your lips curl into a smile, hands shaking as you try to drink from your glass. But her words ring your ear like a broken record, making you feel shy and even slightly giddy.

"Are you blushing, Tulip?" She teases, her delicate fingers caressing your hot cheek.

"Do you need glasses, Jenie?" You say with a laugh, gaze shifting to hers. She laughs with you, her head resting on your shoulder.

Through the fits of laughter, she gazes up at you, her eyes speaking all types of 'I love you's'. But of course you don't see it and place your glass on a coaster.

Resting your head on hers, you enjoy the silents, forgetting last night's fuse and the years lost to a possible friendship. You felt it but didn't register her actions. Her lips devour an exposed patch of skin on your neck, kissing gently. It wasn't until you felt her fingers working at the sleeve of your blouse on your shoulder; do you then register her actions.

You ease her hand away with a polite smile. "Would you like to play chess?" You offer but she shakes her head.

She slams her lips to yours in seconds, forgetting her manners of asking for consent. You groan at the force behind the impact and try to lean away but find her hand in your hair, untying the blue ribbon and holding you in place. Her tongue slips past your lips, entering and consuming whatever it can touch.

Before you could even think straight, you kissed her back, meeting her intense desires. You cup her cheeks and relish in her gentle moans as you suck on her tongue, demanding control. You win but it's short lived when she parts for air.

Your hair falls as the fabric loses its hold. She grins, her lips plush. She drops the ribbon to the wooden floor. "First piece of fabric to go. Several more left." She says before latching her lips on the bare part of your neck, kissing and occasionally sucking. But not enough to leave a mark.

She kneads your clothed chest, cupping, groping. You huff and puff, still trying to take in breath into your lungs as you feel her unbuttoning your blouse.

Stop her, she'll get the wrong message; the voice in your head beckons. But you push it back and allow her to open your blouse, exposing your chest and belly, so she can get a better feel of your tits. Your head falls back at the sensation of her mouth on a tender spot on your neck, shutting your eyes. She doesn't stop, especially when you rack your hand through her hair and hold her hand in place with your free hand.

You didn't want her to stop and neither did she, it felt too good. For Jeanine it felt victorious. Years of waiting and she finally gets to feel you, kiss you and indulge in your small whimpers, moans, and small inhales for air.

"Jeanine, we're leaving." Her father calls, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

You shoot your eyes open and Jeanine stops, pulling herself away while you button up your blouse with shaky hands. He was drawing closer and the door was wide open, so time was ticking. Jeanine takes charge and buttons up your blouse before dealing with her disheveled hair as you pick the ribbon.

"Forget about it." She mutters, taking it from you and stuffing it into her pocket before dropping beside you, glass in hand.

You mimic her actions, running your fingers through your hair.

Jeanine's father leans against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest, his gaze scanning over the room. His eyes glint with what can only be described as; curiosity. "Come, Jenie, we must go home. The Aptitude test is tomorrow. Let's leave the L/n's to mentally prepare." He grins before starting his walk down the corridor.

Jeanine pouts. "Bye, Tulip." She says disappointingly.

"Bye, Jenie. Good luck on your Aptitude test." You say equally disappointed.

Before she leaves though she cups your cheeks and kisses you, fiercely. You part with a trail of saliva, hers icy blue eyes drinking you in.

"See you tomorrow." She says over shoulder as she struts out, chasing after her father.

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You in fact didn't see Jeanine the following day. You did, however see Chloe and she seemed a mess. Everyone, especially yourself did as you recall your result: Candor.

Of course that was what your results were. You were blunt, transparent and far too honest. You didn't care who you were honest with, no one was safe from your silver tongue. You were always genuine with your words, especially when you apologized to Jeanine.

You felt like weeping, crying, sobbing. You'll have to leave home and all its familiarity. A tear drove down your cheek as your body shook. You were in the school cafeteria, everyone can see you, especially your friends who now stare at you as your body shook with tears.

You didn't know who pulled you into their arms but you were grateful and didn't care. You wept into their chest, sniffling in a familiar scent that made your stomach curdle. You look up and find Chloe's hazel eyes, staring at you sympathetically.

You knew she wanted to ask why, but the rules were clear. No one is supposed to share their results. But she comforted you anyways and so did your friends as one by one, they cradled around you, holding you. You may never see them again.

Jeanine sat with a bitter scowl on her face. She was sitting with the students who have yet to be assessed. She watched Chloe ditch her friends to comfort you, pulling you into her arms, making her skin crawl. She truly didn't understand what a deal was.

Chloe screams, her eyes puffy and red from crying. "Please. Please stop!" She cries, trying to fight her restraints.

Jeanine shook her head with a disapproving tsk, tsk. "You know pets are forbidden in Erudite." She said with a wicked grin, batting the small dog.

It whimpers in pain, ears tucked behind its head with his tail mirroring its actions, binding it between its legs. Chloe cries again, her throat dry from sobbing and shouting. "Please, I beg you. I'll do anything. Just please stop harming him."

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything. Just, please stop."

Jeanine got what she wanted and Chloe's barely walking dog got to go home. But as Jeanine observes the interaction, she imagines shooting the dog in the head. We had a deal, Miss Brum. Your dog will pay for your failure to stay away. Jeanine thought, clenching her fists until her knuckles were pasty white.

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Life in Candor was not easy at first, especially during your initiation; where you had to spill your guts. But things went on and no one seemed too distraught about your inner thoughts and sexuality, especially your now husband: Jack Kang.

He found you even more fascinating when he heard about your sexuality and how it affected your life in Erudite. What he didn't expect was: "I had a fling with Jeanine Matthews. That's why I don't want to attend the faction representative meeting. I can't face her, not now." You confessed with ease and without the slightest hesitation.

Jack's mouth flaps open. He was more than shocked, perhaps stunned. You, his wife had some sort of fling with the Erudite rep. You're just telling him now?

"Why are you just informing me now?"Jack spits, pointing his finger, visibly angry, losing his placidness.

"You dated my cousin before being with me. Past relationships mean nothing, or do you not remember saying that," You retort, now challenging him.

Of course he remembers. He was being honest with you at the moment, at the time. You were finding it hard to adjust to your new life, especially after the final stage. Everyone knew about your taste for both genders, everyone had their own opinions, even the boy you fancied before Jack, which was not too good.

Past relationships didn't matter. Jack loves you and he wasn't planning on letting you go, so he said what he knew was true; what was on his mind and heart. Nothing about your sexuality was going to chase him away, make him love you any less.

"Or were you just lying to me."

Jack falters, eyes visibly hurt. "No, my love. Not at all," He calms down, sitting beside you on the couch and wraps his arms around you, shielding you.

You rest your head on his chest, allowing him to inhale your scent: tulips. He relaxes. "It's just... Jeanine makes my job harder. I was under the impression that she was challenging me—pushing me. I thought it was a teaching method, not bullying or disrespect. But I should have known. The signs were there and I didn't question them enough." He sucks in breath, calming himself, trying to prevent another roller coaster of anger.

"What does that have to do with me? What are you talking about?" You ask, pulling away, now frustrated.

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at you through his fingers. He huffs and slumps forward, elbows resting on his knees. You nudge him.

"Jack." You try to catch his attention, rubbing his back and kissing his shoulder. His muscles fall, he's relaxed.

Before you could ask again he opens his mouth: "It wasn't a fling to her, you maybe. But not her. She's in love with you. You... my wife," He spoke, his tone harsh and irritated.

You froze, stunned and a little guilty. Jack has been stressed out and even hurting because of you. Because you ignored the voice in your head.

Stop her, she'll get the wrong message.

You mentally curse yourself, wrapping yourself in your arms. Now feeling as if it's wrong to touch Jack— the man you loved so much that you said 'I do' and started a family with him.

"Jeanine Matthews has been making my life as the representative of Candor so much harder. She's been bullying me and I didn't even think of it as that." He sounds defeated.

Jack should be yelling, screaming and tearing into you but he doesn't. He just sat there, feeling like a fool.

"Then switch positions with me. It's time that you rest and I fill in the space as the representative." You spoke without thinking.

He stares at you like you were some sort of mad man with two heads. But before he can object, you jump in.

"The reason you took the job was because I was pregnant. It was because I couldn't lead with my mind unclear and unfocused. Let me take the burden off your shoulders, my love." You spoke with ease and care, caressing his cheek with your thumb and kissing his cheek.

God, how you loved this man. His broken eyes tore into you.

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No one was surprised by the switch of leadership. Jack was losing it and your eldest was fifteen with the life of Erudite ahead of him by how much of his dorm was filled with books, instead of people.

So when the announcement was made, you were welcomed with ease. You were the first to be seated, so you fixed your hair up with a black ribbon and drank some tea, waiting for Marcus to stop chatting to a young Amity girl who serves drinks and unfortunately has no will power to tell him to fuck off.

In time the Dauntless leadership rolls in with your own slowly filtering in with them. Sometime later the Amity rep: Johanna and her team walk in with Erudite behind them, chatting and enjoying each other's company.

When everyone is seated, still waiting on Marcus to take his seat at the high court seats with his team, you grow impatient, feeling a familiar set of icy blue eyes staring right at you.

"Stop talking to the poor girl, Marcus. She wants not your attention but to do her job and move on with her life. So, please do us all a favor and take your seat and perhaps start the meeting." You spoke, eyeing Marcus and his red cheeks.

He grumbles and waddles to where he must be stationed. "That's not very Abnegation of him. Wasting our time is selfish, not selfless." One of your members whispers in your ear, rewarding her with a laugh.

She nudges you with her elbow and you nudge her. Kathy, she's your sister-in-law. A real Candor with the most bluntest of tongues and a life of the party. She always made a way to make you laugh or smile during the worst times. You weren't close but knew each other well enough to like one another's company.

She managed to have four kids before ending her marriage with her ex-husband, who used to be a part of Candor's leadership group before the scandal he pulled. What a shame, he was caught five inches deep inside a drunken prostitute. A shame for him but a winning case for Kathy.

The meeting begins and immediately debates break out, mainly from your team who seem to be having the upper hand and winning, while Marcus and his team are stammering. He wanted to reform laws, regarding marriage and age. In other words nuptial law.

He wants to make it possible for children to marry, due to the faction-less situation. The current problem is that the faction-less young girls, under the age of ten—not women, largely—are becoming pregnant at a rate that not even Abnegation can support. The pregnancies are occuring, either through zero education about sex or unfortunately, rape.

But changing the law, itself affects all of society. It would only lead to immoral and unjust marriages to occur between all age groups, perhaps even trapping young boys and girls into situations that would mark them for the rest of their lives. It could even create child slavery and abuse in the marriage; making it immoral, unjust and unlawful.

This is the wrong solution, made by the wrong man.

"What is needed is better education, for these children." Kathy voices, her tone stern and strong, sending you into cardiac arrest.

You admire her and her talent to say 'fuck you and hell no', without actually saying it. Before you could stop yourself, you're admiring her. Your eyes widen, like a cat finding something interesting. Then she is staring at you, your entire team is and you smile.

"What are you grinning at? Continue with your speech and kill this fucker." She whispers harshly, pulling at the ribbon in your hair until it loses its hold. Your hair flows out, in a river meant to shine and get you in the game.

You nod and your team sits, all visibly angry.

"Understand this, Marcus. Law is for every citizen. We cannot change a law to fit your factions ideals. Yes, marriage is necessary for the Abnegation, in order to produce off-springs. But I don't see how marriage is going to fix the problem," You laugh, with your fingers running through your hair.

"These young girls are either mothering children as a result to no education about sex or unfortunate acts of rape. Which is all proven by the Dauntless police force and the Erudite reports. Anyways, how are these fathers, supposed to financially support a marriage when they haven't any money?" The question hangs in the air with no answer.

You stand waiting. But with no answer, you continue.

"Why is this up to debate? Why do you ruffle our black and white feathers? Why, Marcus? Isn't it your faction's, selfless duty to care for those babies?" Once your words were out, it became clear that he had stepped into the wrong battle.

His own government and friends were whispering among themselves. Their 'solution', now proven foul. But you're not finished.

"Abnegation, I speak with no disrespect but only respect. As a woman of the law—once lawyer, then judge and now Faction rep, I speak only the truth. It is a self indulging thing you are all trying to string together, for the Faction-less. It is admirable, what you do for them. But to issue a change in law for young boys and girls to marry, under the age of eighteen to fit your ideals... it's selfish." You finish and take your seat.

The tension is high as the Abnegation whisper to one another and even argue. It seems that not all agree with Marcus and it's showing.

Jeanine couldn't stop her grin, gracing her lips. She hasn't seen you in years, well not without you noticing. She likes the new you and sees how your test could conclude to Candor. She has missed you dearly and does not blame you for your endeavors.

If I just kept you closer, she thought, eyeing you hungrily like a starved animal.

But Jeanine never miscalculates. She is always accurate.

In time, my Tulip. In time

[edgessunflower]

Staying together

Pairing: Tris Prior x Fem reader

Description: You and a girl you meet before your faction ceremony make a promise after choosing Dauntless

A/N: Y/P/N = Your previous name

You felt nervous as you walked with your family for the faction ceremony being the youngest of your siblings and the last one to choose your faction having your siblings in different factions. Your mom was in Amity followed your dad and eldest brother in Abnegation then by your eldest sister in Erudite, and your other sister in Candor leaving plenty of choices for you in factions, you accidentally bump into someone as you walk pulling you from your deep thoughts smiling at the cute red haired girl a few feet from you falling into conversation immediately after introducing yourselves learning her name was Beatrice and that it would be her and her brother's faction ceremony along with yours which eased your nerves as the two of you walk in and sit near each other with your families holding your parent's hands as you watch each person choose their faction, you gently squeeze beatrice's hand while she watched her brother go and choose Erudite before she goes and chooses Dauntless trying to compose yourself as you go up the podium for your turn. You were torn between Amity and Abnegation as you cut your hand feeling tears pore down your face as you move your shaky hand until you felt something pulling you away from both wells to Dauntless slowly looking back at your family after the decision, you wrap your hand before leaving with the rest of the chosen Dauntless looking ahead to see beatrice tapping her shoulder and suddenly hugging each other climbing up the railway posts and running to the train hand in hand being pulled on the train by her learning her name was now Tris just like you had changed your name from Y/P/N to Y/N looking out the view and the sun shining feeling a hand on yours turning to see tris "No matter what happens from this point on, we stick and stay together" you squeeze her hand sealing the promise with a tight hug before you hear yelling and hand in hand with Christina jumped from the train to the rooftop of the building leading to the first half of the day and night in your new faction both of you keeping up the promise from day to night always being seen together wherever one was the other was next to or not far behind whether it was meals, training, the medical room when one was hurt, or the rooms where everyone slept the two of you were glued to the hip in terms of friends and being the only one in each other you each could count on and truly trust.

[zelcii]

love me anyway | peter hayes

peter leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he watched you from across the pit. you were laughing with the others, your smile wide and effortless, but something about the glint in your eyes always seemed bittersweet. it was as if the laughter was a mask, hiding the truth of your candor-born honesty that seeped through every gesture and expression. you could never quite hide the truth seeping behind the way you smiled, another layer of your candor-born honesty peeking out from under every facade you put on. not that it could be helped. the truth bled from the very way looked, very words you breathed. 

he loved it. how you were basically an intricate scrapbook, pieced together by every person who had ever touched your life, every place you had ever belonged to, and every passion that had ever stirred your heart. you were a patchwork of experiences, raw and honest, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to the way you carried all of it so transparently, even when you tried to hide.

he had always been a problem. for many people, but especially for you. you were no stranger to peter hayes, growing eerily familiar to his sharp edges and cruel humor as it had been a constant presence in your life. after all, you were born in the same faction, hung around the same groups of people, followed the same set of rules. even more, your mother had never liked him. since the two of you were young he'd seem to constantly be one second away from breaking whatever—or whoever—it was in front of him. you used to think you hated him for his arrogance. for how cruel he could be, his tendency to belittle the people that cared for him.

but then you chose dauntless. with one swift cut of the ordaining knife, it wasn’t just your tender, naive skin that was cut—it was every tie to the life you once knew. suddenly, peter hayes, the only person you’ve ever despised, became the only constant factor in your life. he was the one unchanging thread that connected you to both your past and present. you tried to forget your life from before, how things were. but it was hard to admit that the only person you could blame was yourself for wanting to leave.

"staring again," christina’s voice sliced through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present. you blinked, reluctantly tearing your gaze away from peter, who was leaning casually against a wall. he was like an island of calm amidst the chaos that spread across the dauntless pit, his posture relaxed and his expression unreadable.

"i wasn’t," you insisted, but the words felt hollow even as they left your lips. your candor was a relentless betrayer, with every twitch of your mouth or flicker in your eyes revealing the truth you tried so hard to conceal. christina’s gaze sharpened with amusement, catching the subtle giveaway in your demeanor.

"right. c’mon, candor," she quipped, her voice tinged with playful sarcasm as she nudged you gently with her elbow. "may the truth set you free," she mocked with a smirk, her tone light but knowing. “you’ve got it bad.”

you shook your head, trying to mount a defense. "i don’t," you said, but your protest lacked the firmness you’d hoped for. peter had been the object of your intrigue since you’d met him in summer camp, the boy that used to look at you with such passion. the boy you promised your mother that you’d never even think of talking to. that undeniable truth seeped through the cracks of your words, finding its way into the spaces you desperately tried to guard. still, from across the room, he stared with that familiar passion.

christina’s grin widened, clearly finding amusement in your discomfort. she followed your gaze back to peter, who remained fixed on you with a knowing smirk. it was as if he thrived on every flicker of attention you gave him, the curve of his lips revealing his awareness. he seemed to relish in the fact that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, savoring the way his presence bothered you.

"besides, he’s a total jerk," you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to mask your uncertainty. the effort to convince yourself sounded more like a feeble excuse than a genuine assertion. you fixed your gaze away from peter, forcing yourself to focus on his flaws���his arrogance, the cruel edge in his humor, the narcissism he wielded with such practiced ease. yet, despite your best intentions, all you could think about was his lingering touch and your stolen glances. you failed at every attempt to distance yourself. it was as if he was fully aware of the internal battle you were waging and took a twisted pleasure in it.

you remembered an instance from a few nights ago.

you’d been crying in the communal bathrooms, the cold tiles beneath you doing nothing to ease the burning sensation behind your eyes. it had been a bad day—training had pushed you to your limit, the weight of your decision to leave candor pressed down hard, and the overwhelming newness of dauntless was closing in from all sides.

the tears had come suddenly, without warning, and once they started, you couldn’t stop them. you didn’t want to cry—not here, not in a place where showing weakness was as good as painting a target on your back. but you were alone, or so you thought, and it had been too much to keep inside.

then you heard the door creak open. you immediately wiped your face, hurriedly trying to compose yourself, when you heard his voice.

"didn’t expect to find you here," peter’s voice was low, casual, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place. you assumed it was taunting.

your first instinct was defensiveness. after years of being taught to hate him, after years of believing he was nothing but cruel and self-serving, you bristled at his presence. you had no idea why he was here, and the last thing you needed was to deal with peter hayes right now.

“go away, peter,” you muttered, not even bothering to look up at him. your voice came out more bitter than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. it was habit. you’d spent years convincing yourself that he was the last person you could rely on. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. you expected him to leave—maybe with a sharp remark, something that would sting, something that would remind you exactly who he was and why you should stay far away from him. but he didn’t. instead, you felt him sit down beside you, close enough for his presence to be known but not close enough to make you uncomfortable.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t tease or push. he just sat there, quiet, waiting.

you didn’t want to give in. you didn’t want to let your guard down around him, of all people. but the longer he stayed, the harder it became to keep your defenses up. the weight of the day, the exhaustion, and the relentless pressure of everything finally caught up with you. you couldn’t hold back anymore.

before you even realized what was happening, you leaned against him. your body moved on instinct, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, the sobs breaking free as the tears fell hot and heavy.

to your surprise, peter didn’t pull away. he didn’t make a comment or a joke at your expense. instead, his arm came up, hesitating for just a second before wrapping around you. his grip was firm, and he pulled you in close—just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours. he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to pry or ask questions. he just stayed there, silent and steady, letting you cry.

it wasn’t what you expected. peter was supposed to be cruel, detached, distant. but in that moment, none of that mattered. he was just there, holding you together when you felt like everything else was falling apart.

you didn’t know how long you stayed like that, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your body trembling from the release of everything you’d been holding inside. but eventually, the sobs began to subside, and you found yourself breathing a little easier, the storm inside you starting to calm.

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes still red and swollen from crying. “why do you do this?” you asked, your voice small and hoarse from the tears. you genuinely didn’t understand. “why do you… why are you here?”

peter’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something raw, something unguarded in his gaze. then, with a small, almost playful smirk, he shrugged. “don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “you know i love you.”

the words were so simple, so casually said, that they took you by surprise. but there was no sarcasm in his tone, no bite to his words. he was sincere, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear as if the words were meant to be a secret shared only between the two of you. then, with a sudden rush of either reckless confidence or desperate longing, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss just behind your ear. the tenderness of it sent a shiver down your spine. “let me be here,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, though it carried a note of quiet vulnerability. he was trying to convey reassurance, but the raw emotion in his voice felt closer to a quiet, earnest plea. 

christina said that that was when you started staring. 

you’d seen a side of him you never thought to imagine and you craved for more. but he was peter hayes. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything. not for you, not for anyone. he tried to convince himself that as well as he savoured the feeling of your soft skin on his lips. yet, there he was, aching for something he couldn’t bring himself to ask for. something that made his heart race every time you was near, something that made him want to push you away and pull you closer all at once. your love.

he turned to you then, his hand brushing yours just barely, but it was enough to make his pulse quicken. you locked eyes, and for a second, and suddenly everything else that happened outside of the bathrooms faded away. he could feel your heartbeat in the air between you, the way your breath hitched, the way you wanted him to say something, anything. but he couldn’t. not yet. so he just sat there, his lips twitching into a smirk, masking everything he wasn’t ready to say.

christina’s expression shifted to one of knowing amusement, her eyebrow arching in a way that made it clear she wasn’t buying your story. "yeah, and yet here you are, still thinking about him. denial is just another form of obsession, you know."

"i am not obsessed," you snapped, a little too loudly. you tried to sound more forceful than you felt. but even to your own ears, the argument wore thin. the truth was, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, peter had managed to engrave himself into your thoughts, lingering at the edge of your consciousness like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

christina’s hand landed on your shoulder, the gesture both comforting and teasing. her eyes held a mix of sympathy and amusement, as if she could see right through your carefully constructed facade. "sure, keep telling yourself that," she said, her tone light but tinged with a gentle sincerity. "but pretending isn’t the same as believing."

you didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap. christina wasn’t wrong. the tension between you and peter was undeniable, a magnetic force that seemed to vibrate with an intensity everyone could feel when the two of you were near. 

glancing back at peter, you found him still observing you from across the pit. his gaze cut through the chaotic swirl of faces and noise, landing squarely on you with an intensity that felt almost tangible. it wasn’t just a casual glance; it was as if he was deeply engrossed, his eyes soft and thoughtful, carrying an unmistakable trace of what you dared call admiration. the smirk was gone now, replaced by an expression that seemed to reveal more than he usually let on—a look that made your heart flutter against your will. 

you shifted uncomfortably, unable to shake the feeling that his gaze was dissecting every fragment of your carefully guarded emotions. in that moment, the air between you felt charged, filled with something unspoken that neither of you were ready to confront. and even as you tried to look away, his eyes seemed to follow, holding a soft, thoughtful reverence that you found both disconcerting and oddly comforting.

you reminded yourself that, no matter how warm you felt under his gaze or how infatuated you were with him, peter was still peter—the same boy who had mocked your family’s dedication to order and laughed at others’ missteps under the guise of “honesty.” his usual sarcasm and cruelty were just parts of his carefully constructed facade, a shield designed to guard against any real vulnerability.

but the way he treated you was different now in dauntless. there was always a softness in his gaze, a subtle consideration that contrasted with his usual demeanor. it made you question if beneath his cold exterior, there was a part of him that genuinely cared, revealing a side of him that was far less indifferent than he let on. it made you wonder if he wasn’t as cold as he wanted everyone to believe.

regardless, you knew you would never, in every sense of the word, let yourself fall for peter hayes. he was supposed to be a horrible person.

… but on one particularly exhausting night, after another grueling day of training, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find any solace in sleep. the unfamiliarity of dauntless gnawed at you, and the weight of leaving candor behind seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour. not that you’d ever blatantly admit it, but the new environment was overwhelming. despite your best efforts to adapt, the relentless pressure was starting to crack your composure.

in the dead of night, you awoke with a start, your heart pounding and a deep sense of unease settling over you. you stumbled out of bed, the darkness amplifying your anxiety as you wandered through the dimly lit corridors of dauntless. just as the silence seemed to stretch endlessly, a soft knock broke the stillness, echoing against the cold concrete walls. there, at the end of the hall, stood peter. he stood as tall as ever, but his touch was unexpectedly gentle. his hand brushed lightly against the small of your back, pulling you a bit closer, and the warmth of his skin contrasted sharply with the chill of the night air. 

though your eyes were still heavy with sleep, you could see the rare softness in his gaze, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. “hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and raspy, but surprisingly soothing. “you okay?”

“just can’t sleep,” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes. you could’ve been meaner, you could’ve tried harder to push him away but you convinced yourself you were too tired to. 

even you knew you were lying. 

without a word, he guided you back to the rooms, his hand resting steady and reassuring on your waist. the warmth of his calloused skin against your arm was comforting, sending a shiver through you. your heart ached to lean more of your weight against him, to feel the full press of his body against yours. each touch felt intensely intimate, grounding you in a way that made your heart race. his calm presence was a soothing contrast to the cold, impersonal walls of dauntless.

as he guided you back to the room, his touch so comforting and warm, memories from your younger years resurfaced.

you recalled how, even then, there was a strange tenderness in the way he interacted with you, though he never showed the same kindness towards others. peter was always rough with the other kids, his teasing and taunting often crossing the line into childish cruelty. 

your mother had noticed, warning you to stay away from him, claiming he was a bad influence. she saw the way he bullied others and feared that his harshness would rub off on you. so, you had learned to hate him, to see only his rough edges and disregard his rare moments of gentleness. now, feeling his warmth and seeing the softness in his eyes, those old judgments felt shaky and uncertain. It must’ve been a trick—a game he was playing. but in that moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, revelling in the way his skin brushed against yours.

as he helped you settle back under the covers, his touch was deliberate and achingly tender, causing a warm flush to spread through you. you wondered how you managed to muster enough hate to stay far enough away from him. the brush of his fingers against your skin, as he tucked the blankets around you, felt both intimate and possessive, sending a shiver of through your body. each contact, from his fingertips grazing your arm to his palm pressing gently on your shoulder, was charged with a longing intensity.

“you need to rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, nearly a whisper. his gaze lingered on you with a softness that was rare for him. before he turned to leave, he gently swept a few stray strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “it’s okay to be overwhelmed, sweetheart. we all are.”

you looked up at him, the tenderness of his touch and the care in his eyes sending a rush of warmth through you that made you slightly breathless. his eyes, usually so sharp, were softened by a rare, gentle affection that made your heart flutter. “thanks, peter. you didn’t have to.”

“yeah? well, i did,” he said, a crooked smile playing at his lips, his eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. he held your hand in his and refused to let go, like he wasn’t ready to leave. you didn't want him to leave. “deal with it.” his voice was smooth, his tone almost too casual, as if the closeness was natural. as if he wasn’t acting completely out of character. his hand remained lingering by your jaw a moment longer than necessary, his touch longing like a secret between you.

you remembered early in high school, when peter had asked you out to the dance and confessed his feelings, saying he loved you. without hesitation, you’d turned him down, following your mother’s wishes. even then, he didn’t seem upset. instead, he simply promised that you’d end up loving him one day.

at the time, you didn't believe him, dismissing his words as just another piece of the game he constantly played. now, as you felt the warmth of his touch and the gentle care he’d shown, you couldn’t ignore the echoes of that past moment. you were falling for him. despite everything, you were falling for him. 

and after all that time, he was right.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tired, and raspy, but caring. it summoned butterflies to your stomach. he said it like you were the only girl in the world. suddenly, you felt like you were in middle school again, getting flustered over a boy. your mother would be so disappointed.

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it,” you said, though your eyes betrayed you as they stayed locked with him. out of a force of habit you continued, “don’t wanna talk to you.” you didn’t mean it, of course.

he let out a tired, amused laugh before bringing your hand up to press a gentle kiss in the palm of your hand. you melted. “i love you anyway.”

threw 3.5k words on a tumblr post and called it a fanfic </3

[lilithslittleworld]

Should be me fr (in the middle because they’re both so hot)

[ltash]

Dauntless

Ep-5 "Initiations"

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader

Ghost already knew about Four. One of the best Dauntless had to offer. It made sense that he worked in intelligence, much like Laswell. Someone who operated in the shadows, sharp, calculating, dangerous. Ghost could respect that.

But his problem wasn't Four.

It was Eric.

From the moment they met, Eric had made himself a thorn in Ghost's side. The smug arrogance, the way he sized him up like prey, the constant need to assert dominance. Ghost had seen men like him before. Power-hungry. Cruel. Desperate for attention.

And Ghost knew how to deal with him.

The sharp clink of boots against metal yanked you from sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open to see Four standing on the staircase, arms crossed, face unreadable.

"Pit. Two minutes." His voice was low, firm, an order, not a request. Then, without another word, he disappeared.

Around you, the other initiates groaned, stretching and yawning, their movements sluggish from exhaustion. Some mumbled complaints, rubbing their eyes as they sat up.

But Ghost was already awake.

He hadn't slept.

He couldn't sleep.

New place. New people. Too many unknowns. A man like him had his own battles, his own reasons for staying alert.

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely clasped. His head was slightly bowed, but he wasn't relaxed, he was calculating. Watching. Waiting.

The dim light barely illuminated his face beneath the balaclava, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable.

While the others struggled to wake up, Ghost had never even closed his eyes.

The group stood in a straight line in the Pit, the cold air settling around you. The energy was tense-half the initiates still groggy from being yanked out of sleep, the other half bracing themselves for what was to come.

Four approached, his sharp gaze sweeping over all of you. His stance was rigid, his expression unreadable, but his voice was calm and firm when he spoke.

"Training has two stages," he began. "The first is combat. You'll push your body to its limits. You'll learn to fight, to endure pain, to move like a true warrior."

Your heartbeat quickened. You knew this wouldn't be easy.

"The second stage," Four continued, his voice dropping slightly, "is mental. A different kind of breaking point."

The initiates shifted uneasily.

"You will face your worst fears."

His words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling. His gaze flickered, sweeping across the group before landing on Ghost.

A deliberate pause.

"And I bet we all have our fears..." Four's voice was laced with something deeper, something knowing. He didn't look away from Ghost.

The tension in the Pit shifted.

Ghost didn't react. Didn't flinch. He simply held Four's stare, unreadable behind his mask.

The silence stretched.

You glanced at Ghost, your pulse quickening. What could a man like him fear?

Four didn't press further. Instead, he exhaled sharply and turned back to the group.

"Now, let's see if you survive this."

Four's sharp gaze swept over the group, his voice unwavering as he continued.

"You will not be trained with the Dauntless-born-yet your rankings will be measured against them."

A few initiates exchanged uneasy glances. Competing against those who had spent their whole lives in Dauntless? The odds were stacked.

"After initiation, your fate will be decided," Four went on. "Some of you will be nominated for leadership."

His words carried weight, but it was clear he wasn't speaking to just anyone. Only the strongest, the most capable, would even be considered.

"Others will be assigned to defend the fence."

You knew what that meant. Guarding the borders, keeping threats out-or worse, keeping people in.

Then, his voice darkened.

"And for those who don't make the cut..." He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "You'll be sent to deal with the factionless. And if you think Dauntless is ruthless, wait until you see them."

A cold shiver ran down your spine. The factionless-those who had failed, who had no place. Desperate. Unforgiving.

The Pit fell silent.

Ghost stood still, arms crossed, his masked face giving nothing away. But you saw how Four's words affected the others, some swallowed nervously, others stiffened, determination flashing in their eyes.

Four's gaze lingered for a moment longer before he stepped back.

A tense silence settled over the group as Eric leaned forward, his smirk widening.

"And also, it will be decided who to expel," he said, his voice laced with mockery as he lounged on a stone.

Some initiates exchanged uneasy glances. The weight of his words settled like a heavy fog over the room.

"After every training session, you will be scored, and the initiate with the lowest score will have to leave us," Eric continued, standing up and pacing toward the group.

Ghost stood with his arms crossed, unflinching. Unlike the others, he wasn't intimidated. If only Eric knew he was standing in front of a cold-blooded killer.

A tense silence settled over the group. Some initiates stiffened, their faces paling at the realization of what was at stake.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" One of them finally spoke up, voice tight with unease. "And where will we go if we fail? Back to our families?"

Eric's smirk widened, a cruel glint in his eyes as he paced in front of the group.

"You chose Dauntless." He said it like a warning. "And no, you won't be going back to your families. You'll be factionless."

His gaze flickered toward Ghost then, a deliberate provocation, as if taunting him, challenging him.

Ghost didn't move. Didn't react. Arms crossed over his broad chest, his stance unyielding. He wasn't some scared initiate, trembling at Eric's threats. If only Eric knew the kind of man he was staring down. A man who had seen more bloodshed than Eric could ever dream of.

But Ghost let him play his little game. For now.

Eric exhaled sharply, then spread his arms as if presenting an opportunity. "So, I'll give you all a choice." His voice was mocking. "Leave now and crawl back to whatever life you had before, or stay, and prepare yourselves."

A few initiates hesitated, shifting nervously.

You swallowed, heart pounding, but you knew your answer.

Ghost? He never wavered. His decision had already been made long before this moment.

Ghost didn't flinch. His gaze remained locked onto Eric's, cold and unwavering.

"I won't train with kids or Dauntless-born." He finally spoke.

A few initiates looked surprised. It was the first time Ghost had spoken up.

Eric's smirk faded slightly, replaced by a hint of irritation. "Oh really, and who do you think you are?" he challenged coldly.

"The skull-face speaks too? I thought you were dumb, aren't you?" Eric mocked.

The room tensed. A few initiates snickered, but Ghost didn't react. He simply held Eric's gaze, his body unmoving.

Eric stepped closer, a mocking smile on his lips. "You think you're gonna make it through initiation with an attitude like that, huh?"

"Do you want to lose your initiates in the first step, Eric? 'Cause pairing them up with me will result in their deaths." Ghost spoke, his tone even, but there was a deadly edge to it.

The initiates around you fell silent, their eyes darting between Ghost and Eric. Your heart pounded in your chest. What was he suggesting?

Eric's smile disappeared completely, his eyes narrowing. He looked taken aback but also slightly amused, as if he couldn't quite grasp the audacity of this stranger.

He shifted his weight, his voice lowering. "Oh, really? And why is that?"

"Because I am a trained killer. I kill first and think later. You can't be putting these kids with me who just left their homes." Ghost's voice was calm, but the weight behind his words sent a chill through the air.

The silence in the room was deafening. The tension was palpable. Eric's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with annoyance and skepticism.

He stepped closer to Ghost, trying to intimidate him with his height and physique. But Ghost was far more dangerous. He didn't move, didn't flinch.

"A trained killer, huh?" Eric mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And how do I know you're not just some wannabe, playing at being tough?"

"You're talking to an ex-lieutenant of the British SAS, Eric. And I can be worse if you want me to show you."

Eric's expression shifted from disbelief to irritation. He obviously hadn't expected that response.

"SAS? Right, and I'm the King of England," he retorted, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"I came here to lead, Eric. I had no option but to join with initiates. If you weren't in my way, I'd already be leading the pack." Ghost tilted his head slightly, his presence looming.

Eric's irritation boiled over, his face flushing darkly. He squared his shoulders, leaning closer to Ghost.

"You think you can just waltz in here and take over?" he hissed, his voice dripping with hostility. "You might have training, but that means nothing here. Dauntless is about strength, not fancy titles."

"It's not about my title," Ghost said, his voice low and firm. "It's about what I've done. I can be way worse than you can think."

Eric's expression hardened, his eyes flickering with a hint of unease. He was clearly trying to maintain his tough demeanor, but Ghost's presence was throwing him off.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly have you done that's so terrible?" Eric challenged, his tone still mocking, but there was a hint of defensiveness now.

Ghost tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp as a blade. "You don't want to hear what I did to my enemies, how they begged for mercy, but I showed none."

The room went deathly silent. Eric faltered for just a fraction of a second, his bravado cracking ever so slightly. His smirk thinned, his confidence visibly shaken.

The initiates around them shifted uncomfortably, glancing from Eric to Ghost. The tension was suffocating, thick as smoke.

Ghost took a slow step forward, the air between them growing heavier. "So I'll give you a choice, either you train me, or Four does."

Eric took a step back, his face still flushed with annoyance, but now with a hint of wariness. "And why should I do that?" he asked, his voice losing some of its former swagger.

Ghost's eyes gleamed darkly as he tilted his head. "Because you don't have a choice, mate."

Eric's jaw clenched, his frustration evident, but before he could snap back, Four, who had been silently watching, finally stepped forward.

"I'll train with him," Four said calmly.

The room seemed to exhale in a collective breath.

Eric's face darkened, his gaze flickering between Four and Ghost, his frustration clear. He had been cornered, humiliated, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The other initiates stared in stunned silence, some in respect, others in awe. Everyone knew Four was one of the best fighters in Dauntless, and for him to willingly take on Ghost spoke volumes.

Ghost gave a slow nod to Four, a silent acknowledgment between two warriors.

Eric, however, was seething. His hands balled into fists, his nostrils flaring as he glared at Ghost. He knew he had lost this round.

With one last hostile look, he scoffed and stomped away, muttering curses under his breath.

[acinematicworld]

divergent series.

[888sss]

Words he never said

Soo I never write, but I was about to go to sleep, and this popped into my head, so I thought I'd write about it. Also, I'm not new to Tumblr, but this is my first ever fic so pls don't judge. (not grammar checked)

1068 Words / 6 minutes estimated reading time

Four (Tobias Eaton) x reader

The last test of my fear simulation was over. I jumped out of the chair I lay on, and blink a few times trying to adjust to the bright light hitting my eyes. The echo of people clapping erupted from all corners of the room, and as I finally took a step and could actually look around, I saw Four standing off to my left. My head turned and he was smiling as he walked over.

He came over and reached out his arms for what I understood to be a hug, so I took a few more steps toward him, but he went around me. He passed me to go hug Tris. I saw as he effortlessly picked her up and spun her around, and when he placed her down he gave her a kiss on her forehead, as she started telling him God knows what.

I love Tris, she's my sister, but of course, she would be the one to replace me, for what only felt like the hundredth time ever. I wasn't mad at Tris though, I was furious as Four. He was the one who told me to keep things private.

"Private, but not secret."

I remember the words he said to me. The words he promised me, while we lay tangled in his sheets, discussing what label we wanted to put on ourselves.

"Four! What the hell?" I aggressively pushed past Tris to get to him.

"Oh no, here comes your shadow." Tris taunted, and I shot a glare at her.

"Y/n, your simulation went better than I expected!" Four said with a sarcastic tone behind it.

"Don't avoid the ques- wait what?" I started to process what he was inferring with his remark. "What do you mean, 'better than you expected'?" I asked as I took a step closer to him, with an insulted look on my face.

"I mean you did better than what I thought you could do, based off of how horrible most of your other abilities are. Not to mention you have possibly the most forgettable personality, and you always complain about 'What if I don't make the cut?', 'What if everyone thinks I want to be like Tris?', 'What if everyone thinks I'm lame?', but what you don't understand, y/n is that we all already think that."

I felt the room get a little smaller, and everyone was so silent you could hear a feather fall. All of a sudden applause burst out from the people in the room, surrounding the three of us, and seemingly agreeing with what Four said.

I stood there, in shock, jaw dropped, waiting for him to say he was just kidding, or for me to just drop dead.

I confided in Four, I trusted in Four, and I would argue I loved him. I told him the 3 things I hated the most.

Public degradation, Being yelled at, and being compared to Tris.

Somehow he had managed to have done all 3 of those things in a matter of seconds.

"Four.. say you don't mean it." I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, and off my chin. I'm not sure when I started crying, but now I was more upset, that he had to have gotten the response he wanted from me. Why else would he say those things.

"Four." My voice was weak, but his stare was strong and cold. He looked me up and down, before turning around.

"Pathetic." He managed to say just loud enough for me to hear, as his back was turned, and he walked away.

I lost him in the crowd in a matter of seconds as I decided I needed to calm down before more people can see that I'm crying. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, and focused on the feeling of the cold air of the room against my tear-stained cheeks.

I opened my eyes, and there I was, back in the chair, in the middle of the normal-sized room.

Again I was blinded by the lights and tried to blink them away. They were brighter than they were the first time. People began clapping again, and before I could even take a step off of the chair I was laid in, Four had reached me and took my hands in his.

"Y/n, I would never betray you like that." He was trying to look me in the eyes, but I avoided his gaze. He lifted one of his hands to make me look at him. When my eyes met his he smiled and I opened my mouth to talk, but he hurried and put a finger over my mouth.

"Y/n, I don't want you to be scared to tell me things, I care for you very much..."

I was getting Deja Vu. Not the kind that's like been there done that, but the kind of Deja Vu, that leaves you with the same empty mysterious feeling of nothing in the pit of your stomach. I remembered when I told Four I loved him, and his response was, "Thank you for loving me", that was enough for me to understand he wasn't ready yet, but now it had been almost a year, and he still couldn't say the words.

"Four I know, it's okay, I don't want to force you to say things you don't mean." I looked at him with a peaceful rage in my eyes, hurt he couldn't say the words, and upset he wasn't as committed to me as I was to him.

He tilted his head to the side with an offended look on his face, "Don't do that y/n, you can't do that. Don't push me away, not now." He looked at me with sadness in his eyes. "Not now, not ever." He was begging at this point.

"Why? Why not now?" I was confused by his sudden specificity in time.

Four grabbed my hands again, as he leaned in to place his lips on mine. I wanted to resist because I was angry at him, he wasn't committed, he didn't care. But I could hear him reassuring me. He wasn't speaking out loud, but he was speaking to me. He broke the kiss, and rested his forehead on mine, taking a breath.

"Because I love you."

[effystnoem]

I never thought I’d be writing Divergent fan fiction in 2024 but I’m bored and recently rewatched the movies so! Also has anyone noticed there’s a real lack of peter fanfic? Am I the only one who loves an extreme enemies to lovers?

Anyway! If y’all like enemies to lovers, slow burn, and drama for no reason at all then check it out <3

[princessofgotham777]

On Each Other’s Team

Fic type: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, slow burn, I don’t write smut

Peter Hayes x Reader

Heyyyy this is so random but over the summer my sister showed me divergent and I completely fell in love with the universe. I haven’t read the whole series so sorry if some stuff isn’t book accurate but yk it is fanfic. This is just my imagination and movie Peter, I know he’s lowkey a villain (and worse in the books) but why not yk like it’s fan fiction and I’m gonna write him as a better person than he actually is💀. Reader uses she/her pronouns. It’s Peter Hayes x Reader. Reader is basically taking Tris’s place in the plot but Four is still Tris’s love interest, not readers. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, other than that nothing in this part just normal divergent stuff

Part One: Stranger

You were born into Erudite. Your older sister chose to remain in Erudite, she’d always been drawn to science and continuous learning. Your father was Erudite born and your mother a transfer, though you didn’t know which faction she was from. Truthfully you had no idea which faction you truly belonged to. You enjoyed helping people but weren’t selfless enough for abnegation. You enjoyed a thrill here and there but weren’t big on authority. Peace and harmony seemed nice but boring. Having to be honest no matter what in theory seemed like a good idea but in practice terrifying. And finally you could handle problem solving and hard work but you had no desire to spend the rest of your life dealing with politics and science. Tomorrow morning you’d choose where to go, early today you took the test. The test that’s supposed to tell you which faction to choose. The problem was the dark haired dauntless girl who administered your test refused to tell you your results and said you should just pick amity and lay low. Staying in erudite was appealing, being with your parents and sister was the obvious choice. Even though you wished to remain with your family you knew you wouldn’t be happy in erudite. Despite your instincts you knew deep down you had to be selfish tomorrow and pick whatever faction seemed most appealing not to your family, but to you.

Morning arrived with sun shinning into your room. You lived in a huge skyscraper apartment building in the heart of the city. Normally at this time your father would be off to work with the courts at Candor, your mother would be heading to school to teach and your sister would be on her way to her research lab. But because today was the choosing ceremony your mother and sister helped you get ready to head to the hub. You wore a blue pleated skirt with a matching blazer. Normally people would wear a white button up underneath but you always preferred a white tank top. Your mother insisted you wear your hair up but you liked it to be free to fly in the wind; you two compromised and you wore it half up half down. Finally you wore thin framed black glasses that hung low under your eyes and touched your cheeks when you smiled.

“I have something for you,” your mother says with a soft smile. She reaches in the pocket of her blue blazer for a small blue jewelry box. She opens it to reveal a silver necklace with a black gemstone.

“It’s beautiful,” you say as she helps you put it on.

“It was mine when I was a kid,” she says.

“It’s from your old faction?” You asked her. She never spoke of her old faction but you’d always wanted to know.

“It is, my mother gave it to me. It’s all I have left from my time in Dauntless,” she says.

“You were Dauntless?” You say loudly.

“Shhh,” she hushes you. “I was, don’t mention to anyone I told you. Sweety of course I want you to stay with your father and I and your sister but I also want you to follow your heart. Even if your heart tells you to choose Amity, Candor, Abnegation or Dauntless.” “I want you to find where you belong and no matter what I’ll always love you.”

You walked towards the elevator in the hub. As you stepped in with a family from Candor you saw a girl your age with her family headed for the stairs. They were Abnegation. She had long pulled back honey colored hair and wore gray robes. You recognized her from school, her name is Beatrice. In the elevator is a boy your age from Candor with his parents. They’re dressed in back and white. He’s the tallest person in the elevator with dark brown hair and sad eyes. You wondered if it was tiring, having to tell the truth and be yourself all the time. Despite his sad eyes he had an arrogance about him. You noticed though, he was quite cute.

Getting out of the elevator was like stepping into another world. You couldn’t stop thinking about the power you finally had to change your life. Since you were a kid everything was mapped out for you. Erudite beliefs were pushed on you and that was just the way it was. For the first time ever you have control over your future, it both excites you and terrifies you. Once everyone filed into the hub the ceremony began. One by one kids were called up to drip blood into whichever bowl symbolized the faction they wished to commit to. The first four stayed with the faction they were born with. The fifth kid, a boy from amity, switched into erudite. You wondered how someone raised in such a peaceful place could subject themself to such stress. Next up was the boy from the elevator. Confidently, he walked up to the bowls, he didn’t even hesitate before leaving Candor and joining Dauntless. You glance at the Candor crowd to see his parents expressions deadpan, unchanged by his actions. The next two stayed. Beatrice’s brother Celeb was next. He hesitates before dropping his blood into the Erudite bowl. Then Beatrice from school switched from Abnegation to Dauntless. You looked to the Abnegation crowd, curious to see their parents faces. Their mother and father looked sad, you didn’t want your family to wear the same expressions. Next was a girl from Candor named Christina who went into Dauntless and then she was followed by Will from Erudite, you knew him from school. Finally your name is called. You hug your Father and sister and say “see you soon.” Then you hug your mother who whispers, “I know you don’t know what to pick, be brave.” As you walk to the bowls you think about everything your mothers told you. You don’t know which to choose but you do know your mother was born dauntless and she said to be brave and selfish. Using the control you finally have over your future you pick up the knife. You walk to the Dauntless bowl and carefully and slowly drop your blood in. The Dauntless crowd cheers as you walk over. You look back to your family with a worried smile. Your father has his arm around your mother and your sister looks sad. She was never one for being sentimental but you were still her little sister. Someone at Dauntless gets up allowing you to take a seat next to the girl who’s name you believed was Christina. “I’m Y/N,” you said putting out your hand.

“Christina,” she replied shaking your hand.

Not even a minute after the ceremony ended Dauntless began to run out of the hub. Normally Abnegation hangs around to clean up and chat with Erudite about the failing political system and how it’s the others fault. But Dauntless simply pushed past everyone and sprinted to the stairs.

“Why are we running?” You asked Christina knowing she wouldn’t have an answer.

“No idea,” She said with a smile. Everyone hurries down the stairs and outside. You and Christina stop for a moment but everyone continues. You see two other transfers also looking confused, it’s Will and the boy from the elevator, you think you heard someone call him Peter. The four of you stand for a moment separated in twos. Then Peter begins to run after the group, you, Christina and Will join him. Everyone begins to climb the side of the train tracks. You realize Dauntless might’ve not been the best pick for someone as uncoordinated as you. Regardless of your lungs fighting for air and the burn in your muscles, you climb. Christina is ahead of you and aside from Beatrice your last. Everyone runs along the side of the train and you see people starting to jump inside.

“What the fuck,” you say to yourself out of breath. Christina jumps in after Peter and Will. You jump once and almost fall off the track. “Shit!”

“Here,” says Christina as she extends her hand to you. You jump again and she pulls you in causing you to fall on top of her.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly. You look out of the train to see Beatrice behind. “Come on!” You shout to her. “I know her from school,” you say to Beatrice. “We gotta help her she’s nice,” you say.

“Come on Beatrice!” Christina shouts. You extend your hand like Christina did for you and pull Beatrice inside the train.

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much,” she says.

“Course, I remember you from school your names Beatrice right?” You ask.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna go by Tris now though,” she says.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Tris,” Christina says. In the train you, Tris, and Christina make small talk, conspiring on what Dauntless will be like. Across the train is Will, Peter, and another boy. It’s been ten minutes on the train so far and you’d made awkward eye contact with Peter about four times. You see Dauntless born walk to the open door.

“We must be there,” Christina says standing up. Suddenly the Dauntless born jump off the moving train.

“The hell!” Will yells with concern. You look outside to see they’re jumping across an open space onto the roof. You Christina and Tris walk over to Will Peter and the other boy who looks like he’s gonna puke. More and more people jump. Suddenly without hesitation Will throws himself across the gap onto the roof, dragging the other boy with him.

“Together,” Christina says taking your and Tris’s hands. Tris nods but you shake off Christina’s hand. Them two run and jump leaving just you and Peter.

“Fuck we actually have to do that don’t we,” you say.

“Now or never right,” he says. He starts running but sees you frozen in place. “Hey if those losers can do it so can you,” he says attempting to be encouraging.

“You don’t even know me,” you say.

“If you jump with me maybe I’ll get the chance to,” he says with a smirk. He extends his hand and you take it. Without thinking you two run and jump off the train, roughly landing on the gravel covered roof. Your hands fall apart as you two jump and fall. He hurries off to Will and the other boy while you stand with Christina and Tris.

“Dauntless born!” A man with dirty blonde hair yells. “You know the way! Initiates,” he says stepping aside to show the ledge of the roof. “Who will be the first to jump!”

“Is he serious,” Tris whispered.

“Unfortunately I think so,” you replied quietly. Everyone was silent but you saw Peter mutter, “what the fuck,” under his breath.

“Is it safe?” Someone asked, she was from amity.

The blonde man smirked, “doesn’t matter…I say jump, you jump.” “Now are we gonna stand here all day or is someone gonna step up!” Suddenly you feel someone push you forward, you turn around to see a boy from abnegation. He must’ve pushed you cause you’re Erudite. “Well well an Erudite for our first jumper!” The blonde says referring to you. Your nervous, you don’t want to jump first but then you realize it’s to late to back down. If you back away you’ll be labeled as a coward and that’s not something you can afford. You carefully walk over the edge of the building, you look down to see nothing but darkness. With a leap of faith, you jump.

Hiiii, I hope you enjoyed reading. If you did please like, reblog, and or follow. Any positive feedback is much appreciated, it encourages me to keep writing and posting parts. Hopefully I’ll be posting more parts so look out for those if you liked this one. Also if you’d be interested in reading Anakin Skywalker or Jason Todd or Dick Grayson fanfic check out my Masterlist!

Masterlist

[allthornsnopetals]

{Hello, everyone I am allthornsnopetals, and welcome to my garden of mentally-ill fanfiction. Here you find a mix of Fandom's I write for. I am a bisexual mess of a woman, and I have no reason to not brain-rot, so here is my garden, enjoy!}

[ Rules ] [ Fandom's/Characters I write/Master lists ] [ Prompt list ] [ Writing tips found on Tumblr ]

[edgessunflower]

Tris Prior Masterlist

Staying together

[rxmye]

" 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 — a confident athlete who turns into pathetic putty at the thought of you . . .

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / masturbation / pervert yandere (he literally breaks into the locker room for your shit) / olfactophilia/osmolagnia (scent/smell kink) / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / breath play / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: haven't wrote smut in awhile, so im a bit rusty . . .

Lucas dangled the keys in his hands, a grin playing on his face as he walked towards the locker room—using the key to unlock the door—it was pretty easy grabbing the keys from the janitor's room, not that this school was particularly secure with their locks. It would be pretty easy breaking in, if he tried hard enough . . 

Lucas scanned the area, looking through each locker trying to find which one was yours . . he had your lock combination memorized, though he did get a little help from a friend in order to figure it out.

His hands reached for the clothes that you had left in your locker, lifting it up to his face, eyes going half lidded as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, he felt his face growing warm and his body growing weak. Lucas leaned down onto the lockers for support, almost losing balance as he slid down onto the floor.

Lucas pressed the flimsy piece of clothing further onto his face, engulfing himself in your smell—so much so that he could almost taste you—all the while his other hand travelled downwards, clumsily unbuckling his pants in a hurry . . hasty movements contradicted his rational mind, not bothering to care if he'd get caught.

He slid his pants down, just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock—a soft whine escaped him at the feeling of the cold air—his free hand now teasing his tip, as he relaxed his body, closing his eyes shut . .—imagining how disgusted you'd be seeing him in this pitiful state— . . that really turned him on, he cussed under his breath at how pitiful and pathetic his thoughts were . .

Lucas wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down—his vision growing hazy—as he let out breathy sighs of pleasure—whines growing louder when he moved his hand faster.

Lucas stuffed the clothing he took, and pushed it into his mouth—drool escaped the corners of his mouth—blocking his ability make a sound, as he moved his hand faster around his cock—little tear droplets stinging his eyes, as he felt his legs shake slightly at the sheer pleasure—he used his now free hand to pinch his nose, closing his only source of air . . .

All he could taste was you, the clothing taking away all the moisture in his mouth, as tears begin to escape his eyes, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his clothing—his legs began to convulse—his back arching slightly, as he finally came, all over the floor . . .

Lucas spat out the fabric, "fuck", the bell rang . . How is he gonna clean up this mess fast enough? . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[reyalvr]

SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers. 

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊  3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it  ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

prev. | next

KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t. 

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face. 

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up? 

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?” 

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.” 

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. 

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him. 

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his. 

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate. 

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on. 

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.” 

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.” 

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-” 

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson. 

Shit. Strike two. 

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him. 

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag. 

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself. 

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance. 

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours. 

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three. 

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours. 

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger. 

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence. 

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you. 

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up. 

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place. 

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking. 

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat. 

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices. 

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd. 

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system. 

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.” 

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.” 

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone. 

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on. 

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something. 

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” 

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously. 

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board. 

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely. 

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words. 

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. 

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off. 

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan. 

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. 

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything. 

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.” 

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door. 

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.” 

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in. 

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while. 

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.” 

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features. 

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.” 

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation. 

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.” 

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine. 

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being. 

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

[atrwriting]

terrible company — logan howlett x reader

secret time i never used to like wolverine because i thought i was cool and then i saw deadpool 3 and my jaw dropped and i watched most of the x men movies in like three days and now here we are

side note the tiktok edits went absolutely crazy with this scene

back at school needed to write something to keep me sane enjoy

barely edited we die like overworked students men

minors fuck off plz n thnx

as always, warnings: smut smut smuttt, enemies to lovers, fingering, p in v sex, dirty talk, light face slapping (trust me!), logan's a dick

—

“what, sweetheart? — afraid you might like it?”

you rolled your eyes at the man before you: logan howlett, the most obnoxious and formidable man you had ever met. his eyes twinkled with mischief, but his smirk hinted at so much more. this was the fifth or sixth time or so that he had flirted with you outright since you had first met him, and you had still found yourself being caught off guard from his honesty and lack of embarrassment.

he was an enigma to you — such terrible company, always brooding over something. then, randomly, he would see you and his eyes would get that look — as if he forgot what made him so miserable — and flirt with you so inappropriately that you didn’t know what to do, nor feel.

you sighed, staring at him. “can always count on you for shock value, can’t it?”

he smirked then, and you rolled your eyes. continuing, you spoke, “i’ll never get you. you are so mean to everyone — besides the people you want to fuck, of course.”

you turned away then, shaking your head. you didn’t hear him follow you. you grew angry after that realization, causing another sharp breath of air to leave your nostrils in a huff. you weren’t sure if you were angry at the fact that he didn’t follow you and immediately apologize even though he would never do that, or if you were just angry at how you were upset he didn’t follow you.

you tried not to think about it. you had work to do.

your next mission would be based out in the north somewhere — cold, dark, barely any service or electricity, and horrific weather. all of that would’ve made anyone groan, but none of that was the worst part.

not even close.

the worst part was that logan was your partner.

it made bile rise in your throat at the thought.

you generally didn’t mind him — he was grumpy, sure, but someone like old yeller would be grumpy after how many years he’s been alive and after what he’s been through. what pissed you off and what you couldn’t forgive — is how he treated different groups of people. he picked on a lot of people, and even if it was just “harmless hazing” — you didn’t care. it wasn’t cool and it definitely wasn’t hot. it was hurtful and you didn’t like it. he made fun of your friends, and that was where the hate began — and there was no end in sight.

but the best part? oh — the fucking cherry on top? his endless flirtation. he flirted with you shamelessly as if he wasn’t ruthless with your friends moments prior. did he think you void of loyalty? did he think you would sleep with him after he roasted your friends just because he threw a few sleazy comments your way? how little respect did he have for you? or, worse — how little respect did he think you had for yourself?

made your fucking blood boil.

that no good, rotten, fucking —

“hey, sweetheart —“

when you were within fifteen feet of him, it felt like all you did was roll your fucking eyes and bite back a quip. all you wanted to do was put him in his fucking place, or stay as far away from him as possible. however, with a mission so important — so dire — you couldn’t ask for a reassignment and make the team succumb to immature whims. you put up with logan because neither you, the team, nor the government had more options or time.

“what, logan?” you spat, pursing your lips as you turned around to face him.

fuck, he was so goddamn handsome. his skin was tanned from constantly being outside, looking perfectly aged. his facial hair and hairstyle were out of the ordinary as well, but it only kept your attention on him longer. he was strong — so strong. his muscles could kill in mere seconds, and you realized you hated yourself for thinking this way. for falling into the trap of a man so annoying — so undeserving of your attraction — your only response was to clench your jaw and fucking glare at him.

he raised his eyebrow at your attitude. “others already took the cars and helicopter. looks like we’re takin’ in my chopper.”

he didn’t wait for you to disagree. in fact, as you were winding up your “aaaabsolutely not” he immediately turned around and left towards the front — where his motorcycle was parked outside.

you stared at him as he walked towards the bike — broad shoulders clad in the leather jacket he always wore. his legs, even covered in jeans, were so trim and muscular that you could see the power behind each stride. when he swung one leg over the seat, and two hands gripped the handle bars — you would’ve said he was attractive if it wasn’t for how horrendous he was. you would’ve bit your hand at how broad his shoulders were and the strength behind them. you should’ve torn your gaze away from him — because at that moment, the moment where you were contemplating your attraction towards him and how it worked with your hatred for him — he caught you staring.

he caught you staring — and the fucking bastard smirked.

you cursed then, and then started towards his bike. like he once did, you swung your leg over and wrapped your arms around his midsection.

“hold on tight, sweetheart,” he spoke, the vibrations of his deep voice felt against your chest. “can’t say i’d let anything bad happen to you, though.”

“just drive, logan,” you spat through gritted teeth.

he chuckled darkly then, revving his engine. “yes ma’am.”

with his back to you, unable to see his reaction — it was the one moment, the one fucking time that you didn’t roll your eyes at him. your reaction to his words — yes ma’am — was raw and surprising, unsettling almost. you shifted in your seat and adjusted your grip on him as a warmth settled in your stomach, and on the apples of your cheeks. your breaths turned shallow, too, as your whole body succumbed to the blush that overtook.

no, you thought. you think he’s hot. that’s fine. assholes can be hot — we just can’t act on how hot they are. that’s fine. it’s fine. everything is fine —

but the way he smelled? oh god, the way he fucking smelled? logan was what bath and body works modeled those mahogany or whisky or leather or whatever-the-fuck candles after. part of you wanted to curse him out, making up something to be mad at him for — but the other parts wanted to wrap your arms around him tighter and stick your nose in the back of his neck like a depraved lunatic.

but you couldn’t. you wouldn’t let yourself. you sat up straighter then — trying to put as much space as possible between you and him on a vehicle that was not meant for a rivalry between driver and passenger.

you were disgusted with yourself. so, so disgusted with yourself.

fuck, you thought. this is going to be a long night.

when you reached camp, you immediately began setting up. you set up shelter and got your supplies in order, and logan went out looking for food. that was logan’s one quality that not even you could take away from him — he was an excellent hunter. you tried to busy yourself as best as you could — setting up the tent, starting the fire, the works. the sun would almost be down before logan came back.

when you heard his footsteps, your head immediately flicked up towards him. there he was — dinner thrown over his shoulder, clad in a white tank top, and cigar in his mouth. a cloud of smoke followed behind him as he walked towards where you had set up camp.

“showing off?” you cast your gaze down, putting another log on the fire.

“…is it working?”

you couldn’t help it. you let out a small laugh.

fuck.

you cleared your throat immediately, hoping he didn’t hear it. unfortunately, there was no use in that. fear struck you when you saw the tiniest smirk on his face. you brushed it off, leaving him to go get a sweatshirt as he dressed and cleaned the animal.

“scared of a little blood, sweetheart?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his comment. “it’s an animal, logan. not our enemy.”

“…fuckin’ vegans.”

“okay, old yeller —“ you quipped, poking at the fire. “you don’t feel a drop of sadness when you go after bambi?”

“it’s meat,” that was all he said on the subject, and you didn’t feel like poking the bear.

you ate in silence and went to bed in silence. actually — you went to bed. logan stayed out by the fire until you retreated to your tent. you left him with a bottle of jameson on his right, and a cigar in his left hand. his eyes were trained on the fire.

you didn’t like the look on his face. it was either an expression of zoning out, sadness, or a mixture of both — you couldn’t be sure. any time someone had asked logan what was on his mind, it was usually met with some rude or mean insult from logan. old yeller didn’t like feelings, and that worked out well for you — because you didn’t want to hear about his feelings.

you thought he would stay out all night if he could, never sleeping. however, he did end up going to bed — but you only knew that because he woke up screaming from a nightmare.

him yelling was extremely inconvenient and frankly dangerous — it could blow your cover. in your exhausted state, you sprung up and out of your tent and dashed over to where logan was curled on the ground. he was thrashing at the air — knocking over his bottle of whisky and kicking at the fire.

“logan!” you hissed, trying to force yourself out of your discombobulated state. the thrashing continued, and in a moment of desperation — you got on top of him.

straddled him, to be more exact.

in a moment, his eyes snapped open. your back was on the ground and he was above you — one of his claws at your jugular. logan’s instincts woke up before he did as he laid on top of you and over you, breathing heavily as he kept his blade drawn at your neck with his eyes blown wide.

“you were having a nightmare,” you choked out. “you’re okay —“

he was still staring at you and breathing heavily. it was like he was in a trance — unaware of how to navigate the feeling of peace and a fight or flight response. his pupils, blown wide, showed no sign of calming down.

you reached both hands to grasp at his cheeks, feeling the tickle of his beard on your palms. “you’re safe — it’s alright.”

he dropped his head then — on your collarbone. it hung in shame, guilt, and exhaustion. the unholy trinity that followed logan howlett around for his entire life. one of your hands slid to the back of his neck, cupping the base of his head as his thumb stroked his skin.

“i’m sorry,” was all he said, head still in the crook of your neck.

“you’re good — i get them, too.”

“i’m not looking for a pity party, alright?” he snapped, pushing himself up.

that was it. the final straw.

you reached forward them, yanking him by the shirt so you were nose to nose — tongue on fire, throat hoarse with anger and tight with sadness. “you’re such an ass, you know that? all you do is insult my friends, expect me to sleep with you, and then the moment — the one fucking moment — you show any sign of humanity, i extend a fucking olive branch, and you snap at me? — the fuck is your problem, logan?”

he raised his brows then, almost in a beckoning fashion. “you think i need a shoulder to cry on, huh, sweetheart? — that’s the thing with you young people, why your friends annoy me so much — there’s no fucking time to spend whining when there’s a fucking job to do.”

“jealous, logan?” you spat, still gripping his shirt. “can’t stand the fact that i would rather console the people you insult rather than let you fuck me?”

“what you do in your spare time is yours, sweetheart —“ he scoffed. “if you want to spend it with people who don’t respect you, fine by me.”

“don’t respect me?!” you spat. your face was red and hot now, burning with rage. every word that left your mouth was coated in venom hoping to strike him like his words struck you. “you’d fuck me, leave, and then probably treat me with as much disdain as you treat everyone else — how the fuck is that better?!”

oh — you shouldn’t have.

you really, really shouldn’t have.

you felt the regret as soon the word “better” left your mouth — only a moment before you saw something switch in logan’s eyes. the switch was followed by a twitch in his jaw, the movement he makes before he basically uses someone’s spine as a tooth pick. you knew he wouldn’t hurt you — he couldn’t, he wouldn’t — but damn, the realization of how much weight your statement held in his chest concerned you.

you watched his nose crinkle in anger.

he let out a frustrated, slow breath.

another.

and another.

and then another. he was still on top of you then — staring down his nose at you. you were cocky, cocking your chin up at him — trying to feign looking him in the eyes despite your lack of height. you didn’t want to be a sexual object, there for his free use. you didn’t want to be something he could discard, worthless. you didn’t want logan to give you the same treatment he gave your friends — because that would mean you were no longer worth anything to him.

you braced yourself for his words — what you always thought would come, sooner or later. the end of flirting, and the beginning of rejection and hatred.

“that’s it, huh?” he spoke low then, fighting back anger. “the princess thought i’d leave?” his lips were barely touching yours then, threatening the barrier and final boundary of air between you two. your chest was rising and falling with every word, unable to keep your cool. he continued, “maybe i should — since now you sound like your friends — bunch of fucking whiners.”

you slammed at his chest then, trying to push him off for his hurtful words. he didn’t budge — he was the fucking wolverine, what could you do that would get him to actually move?

“the problem is, doll —“ he took both of your hands and pressed them down next to your head. “i know you’re not like them — and i like you too much to leave.”

you scoffed, gritting your teeth. “stop fucking —“

he let go of one of your wrists and grabbed your chin in his strong hand, silencing you. he stared down at you then, and no words had the chance to leave your lips. anger sent daggers from your eyes to his, but something swirled within his irises. something worse than anger — darker. stronger. harder.

“are you going to stop fucking whining and let me kiss you?” he spat. “or are you going to crawl away with your tail between your legs and be forced to use that stashed vibrator you keep in your bag?”

you sucked in a sharp breath then — eyes going wide as your lips fell open in surprise. he smirked then, obviously pleased. your chest was still rising and falling, but now it was with shallow breaths as something else filled your lungs and abdomen.

heat. pure heat. warmth spread throughout your ribs, abdomen, and core once you absorbed logan’s words. he was so mean — so fucking rude and mean — but his “no bullshit” attitude forced you to keep out of your own way in a way you didn’t want to admit you liked. you were still then — and all you could do was stare up at logan with your big, dark eyes as a smirk crept onto his face.

“that’s it, baby,” was all he whispered before he kissed you.

the hand that once held your face slid around the back of your head, holding the base of your skull up and out for him. he planted his spread knees in between your thighs, cementing himself in place as his other arm held himself up.

logan kissed you with demand in every movement. his lips lead you in a fashion that so passionate and so dominant that your brain and body were fucking putty — his to mold in his hands as he deemed fit. you should’ve been disgusted, tormented by the fact that he would do such a thing — but you couldn’t keep up the act any longer. having logan so close, so warm — it was the ultimate act of comfort.

men had kissed you before — but no man from before could kiss you like this. this. no man had the power to claim you in the open, dangerous air while on top of you and still making you feel so safe and protected. you didn’t feel the need to go out of your way to show dominance — and it felt so fucking good to turn your brain off, even for just a moment.

and logan? fuck — logan? he had wanted nothing more for months than to be exactly where he was now; on top of you, tongue exploring the mouth that loved to insult him. he knew how on edge you were, how you were always caring about everyone but yourself — he just wanted to see what you were like when you could only think about one thing, and one thing only: your own pleasure.

it started with his fingers tightening on the back of your neck ever so slightly. your throat let out a quiet sort of mewl — like he had squeezed the last shred of focus out of you. he wanted you out of focus — not necessarily under his control, he just wanted you to lose control. crying, screaming, taking out your anger on him for all he cared — but he just wanted to be the one that made you forget about everything for a little while.

…so when he felt your hands running up and down the length of his upper body, curious as to the muscles of his shoulders — he knew what to do. he couldn’t help himself, should’ve asked —

he lowered his lower body down and ground against your clothed core.

instinctively, your legs tried to wrap around his — trying to bring him closer. you were struggling, it was so cute to him. he thought about how mean it would be to tease you, even if it was for a little bit — but would quick fun honedtly help you? the stick up your ass would probably never leave, he thought — he had to do this right.

and when he did it again — the smallest whine built in the back of your throat, sending vibrations throughout your body and senses. logan’s hyper sensitive hearing sent shivers — actual shivers — up and down his spine, and right to his cock as his strained against his zipper.

he felt you clam up then, tighten — insecure. he could sense it. smell it.

“don’t you dare —“ he breathed, demanding another kiss from you. he would swallow you whole if given the choice. “those whines you make? those sweet, little noises? — they’re mine, doll. mine. you don’t get to take what’s mine, do you?”

“no —“ you whimpered, shakily. “but — i — i thought —“

he let your neck go, much to your dismay, but that empty feeling was replaced by his large, flat palm pressing against your clothes core. you jumped for a moment, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you peered up at him through your lashes.

“thinkin’ i hate whiners?” he laughed, biting on the skin of your neck as he kept palming you. “not when they sound as pretty as you, doll. ‘m so hard for you — gotta know you want this as much as me.”

you almost let out a struggled gasp then, close to tears. he was so mean. the stress and pain of waiting could be felt all over. he was being so sweet — so generous with his touches — but you wanted more. needed more.

“wan’ it so bad, logan,” you gasped, almost hiccuping. “don’t fuck with me anymore, please — no more games.”

you felt his hand slide your zipper down its track, smirking. “no more games means you’re mine, doll. i don’t fucking share.”

you watched as his large hand — calloused from years of war, labor, and pain — found its way under your pretty, lacy thong. he wanted to rip it off you, free you from the tight clothing — but he needed you now. you needed him now, and he wouldn’t deny you any longer.

you were soaking wet when you felt two fingers slip in between your folds, sending a sharp breath to be sucked in between your lips. logan watched in awe as the flames of the fire caught the glistening wetness on his fingers, illuminating the reflection for both of you to see and witness.

it was obvious to him now — you wanted him so badly, for longer than you had ever let on.

he should’ve been slow, loving, maybe even tender — but that wasn’t him. never was, and never would be. your grip tightened on his as he slipped two fingers inside your pussy, sucking him in desperation.

you immediately tried to bite back a squeal when you felt his fingers finally slide all the way inside you, leaving no space undiscovered. the pads of his fingers were nudging at the roof of your pussy as the meat of his fleshy palm rubbed against your lonely clit — pink, puffy, and pathetic. so desperate. you were biting your lip now, screwing your eyes shut — trying to fight the urge to scream his name.

“oh, i don’t think so, doll,” he grunted. “look at me.”

you tried to look at him. you really did. when you couldn’t manage it, your eyes blurry — you couldn’t believe it: he lightly smacked your jaw.

it should’ve sent you reeling, absolutely fuming — but it only caught your attention. he was glaring down at you, fuming, with a pink hue on his cheeks. “what did i say, huh?”

you couldn’t respond. he had halted his movement, leaving you to buck into his hands.

“those moans are mine,” he spat. “you’re goin’ to be loud, and you’re goin’ to let me know exactly how it feels, alright?”

“okay,” you whimpered. “please just —“

“fucking christ —“ he spat exasperatedly. his movements were rougher now, more than ever — sending you closer and closer to the edge. “your wound so tight, you know that? so fucking concerned and always thinking — you’re goin’ to let go for me, doll, and i’m not taking my eyes off this pussy until it sings for me.”

“fuck, logan —“ you threw your head back, screwing your eyes shut.

“you wanna close your eyes, baby, huh?” he grunted with cockiness in his voice. “too much for you?” his voice was low and guttural, turning you on more and more. “need to see what it’s like when you break for me, baby. — lose it for me, yeah? come on — that’s it — that’s a girl —“

every muscle in your body was tightening with every word. you were straining against him — wanting to pull him close and push him far away at the same exact time. you wanted your orgasm, he wanted your orgasm — and you both fought the other for it. you were grinding your hips up to meet his hand — and he was pushing you back down to the ground so you’d sit-the-fuck-still and take whatever he gave you.

logan hovered over you, knees still planted between your thighs. he still worked at your pussy, still forcing it to consume everything he had to offer. his free hand grabbed at the hair at the top of your head, pulling it back so you were at his complete and total mercy, gasping and whimpering for him — and only him.

“yeah, baby — get lost in it. show daddy how much you needed this.”

you couldn’t take it anymore. you couldn’t. you just couldn’t. the relentless need to stay strong, to keep your cool, always remain calm — gone. all of it — gone. shockwaves went up and down your body, every muscle now taught. your neck stretched back and your back arched up into logan’s chest as your orgasm ran up, down, and through every vein. your throat was dry and cracked — as were any and all coherent words that left your mouth. gasps, cries, whimpers — they all went straight to logan’s cock the minute he smelled the sweet and tangy scent of your juice flowing onto his hands and palm. he wanted to lick you up and down, swallow you whole — but logan wasn’t a patient man, no — never.

and there he was. smirking, above you — not even slightly tired.

he kept up his torture — hand still working at your pussy.

“that’s it, baby — ride out that high,” he grunted in your ear, biting at your shoulder. “nice and easy. come down for me, sweetheart — daddy’s not done with you yet.”

you fell back against the dirt, gasping — wondering where the fuck you were and how logan got you there. everything about you — blurry. your eyesight, your hearing, your sense of smell — all of it: blurry. numb and tingling. you could feel everything and nothing all at once, all while trying to catch your breath.

the only thing you could do, the only thing — was reach for logan’s belt buckle, whining for more.

he smirked down at you then once more, taking his cock our for you to wrap your small, weak hand against its girthy base. you were still reeling from the orgasm, but he didn’t mind.

“greedy girl.” he kissed you, mouth hot and demanding. “pussy feels empty without me, huh? gotta change that.”

he threw one of your legs over his shoulder, your muscles stretching and conforming to his will. you pulled him close to you, whining into his kiss. he swallowed every feverish moan with everything he had, his mind now also buzzing with pleasure.

“bet your pussy feels so warm and wet —“ he breathed. “gonna let me use you, baby? hmm?”

you shook your head feverishly, tears coming to your eyes. “please, logan — please use me.”

that’s all he needed. he slid his long length inside you, and he felt every stretch. your pussy was so sweet — ready to mold to whatever he gave you. he heard your head fall back in pleasure, a loan erupting from your chest — but logan couldn’t care about that right now. all he could focus on was how your pussy opened wide for him, sucking him in like if needed him as much as he needed you. he felt himself grow longer and thicker inside of you, almost painfully.

“jesus fucking christ —“ he hissed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and shoving his face into the crook of your neck. his guttural, deep moans were sent straight through your ear and down every nerve in your body. he grunted, “gonna let me take what i need, baby? let daddy use you?”

“yes, please —“ you cried. “need it so bad.”

he bent your leg back to your chest now, and suddenly the head of his cock was hitting a spot you had never felt before. so deep, so hidden — hot tears sprung to your eyes when he found it. every part of you was sensitive, buzzing for his touch — and all you could think about how there was more and more to give to him, only his to take.

“right there —!” you sobbed.

“that’s your spot, huh?” he spat through gritted teeth. “no boy has found that, i can tell. i can fucking smell it. you want me to pound into you there, baby? gonna let a real man show you how he fucks his girl?”

you were sobbing at this point, pulling him closer and closer into you if there was any space. you couldn’t respond. you didn’t have the strength or the brain to do so. all you could do was bite down on logan’s shoulder as he fucked into that spot — that one fucking spot — as he let out animalistic groans in your ear.

“all mine.”

“my fucking pussy —“

“good fucking girl —“

“gonna cream in this pussy until you can’t take it.”

your second orgasm ripped through you then as tears leaked from your eyes. your teeth broke logan’s skin, blood flooding your mouth as he moaned. the pain coursed through him with the pleasure, mixing within his veins until everything else and around him was forgotten. the only thing that mattered was the greedy pussy sucking him in, and the sweet girl beneath him.

logan was a fucking animal with how he chased your high. he ripped and clawed at the dirt as he drank in your second orgasm, feeling you go limp beneath him. the adrenaline coursing through his veins had a mind of its own — he wrapped your arms around his neck as he took your hips in both of his hands. he held you both upright then — smashing your hips down to meet his as you hung on for dear life. deep, broken grunts were pushed through his gritted teeth as he fought tooth and nail for his orgasm. he dove head first into it, letting you both fall to the ground.

you felt logan’s body shake — fucking shake. you had never known him to succumb to something so peaceful and powerful — so demanding of him. his muscles strained against the control like they were chains and he needed to break free. he groaned into the crook of your neck and tresses of your hair as he fucked himself into your puffy pussy, your cries mixing with his groans. logan’s thrust were desperate as he fucked his cream inside you, part of it coming out and leaking onto his cock as it mixed with your juice. the sight of it ripped through him as the want to claim you again and again took him too. he found your lips once more, both of you gasping into a kiss as you both settled back into the dirt.

it was going to be a long, long night...

[ltash]

Dauntless

Ep-4 "Welcome to Dauntless"

The impact sent Ghost's body bouncing slightly against the net below, the force rippling through his muscles. But he remained steady, rolling off the net with practiced ease, landing on his feet like he had done this a thousand times before.

He had made it. He had made it to Dauntless.

As he straightened, adjusting the hood of his jacket, his cold gaze swept across the underground cavern where he had landed. The air was thick with the scent of stone and metal, the dim lighting casting long shadows against the walls.

And then, he saw him, Four.

The instructor stood waiting, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His sharp eyes assessed Ghost in a way that wasn't judgmental, but neither was it welcoming. It was the look of a soldier recognizing another soldier.

A silent understanding passed between them.

Four didn't have to ask if he was afraid. He didn't have to ask if Ghost regretted his choice.

Because real Dauntless didn't need words.

Instead, Four gave a single nod, a flicker of acknowledgment. Ghost returned it, just barely. That was all they needed.

The moment passed, and Four turned his attention upward, waiting for the next initiate to make the jump.

Ghost took a step back, blending into the shadows, his mind already set on the next challenge that awaited him.

The net shook beneath you as you landed, the adrenaline still rushing through your veins. You looked up, seeing the others standing at the edge of the building, waiting for their turn to jump. A smile tugged at your lips-you had made it. Dauntless.

The thrill of the fall still clung to your skin when Four pulled the net down, steadying it as he reached for you. His strong hands grabbed your waist, guiding you down with practiced ease.

"Welcome to Dauntless." His voice was firm, unreadable. "What's your name?"

"Y/N," you replied, still catching your breath.

Four gave a short nod. "Good..."

As more initiates landed, they began gathering in a loose formation. You stepped into line beside Christina, who looked just as exhilarated as you felt. The air was thick with anticipation, every heartbeat in the room pounding with the weight of what came next.

When the last initiate landed, Four took a step forward. His presence was commanding, his gaze sharp as it swept over all of you.

"I work in intelligence," he began, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "But here, I am your Dauntless instructor. You can call me Four."

A silence followed, but not for long.

"Four?" Christina spoke up, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Then where are One, Two, and Three?"

A muscle in Four's jaw tensed. He took a step closer, his voice dropping into something almost dangerous.

"You need to survive here," he said, his tone quiet but firm. "So keep your mouth shut."

Christina swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

Four's eyes then moved to Ghost. Even with the balaclava hiding his face, Ghost's presence was impossible to ignore. He stood motionless, his posture relaxed yet entirely alert, like a predator assessing his surroundings.

"What's your name?" Four asked, his gaze unwavering.

Ghost's head tilted slightly, as if weighing whether the question even deserved an answer. Then, finally, he spoke.

"You can call me Ghost." His voice was deep, his British accent cutting through the tension like a blade.

Four studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You've worked in the army?"

"Ex-lieutenant, British SAS."

A heavy silence fell over the group. Some initiates shifted uncomfortably, others cast wary glances in his direction. The SAS was no joke. They weren't just soldiers, they were among the deadliest forces in the world. And Ghost? He was standing among them now, like it was nothing.

Four didn't speak immediately, but there was something in his expression that acknowledged what Ghost was. A soldier. A survivor. A threat.

"Interesting," was all Four said, before turning back to the rest of the initiates.

And just like that, the first test of Dauntless had truly begun.

Four didn't linger. He turned to address the new recruit, guiding him toward the next step in the process. Still, Ghost knew this wouldn't be the last time their paths crossed.

Then, a new presence.

Eric.

The Dauntless leader moved toward Ghost like a predator sizing up its prey. His expression was twisted into a sneer, lips curling back to reveal teeth. He exuded an air of arrogance and cruelty, everything that Ghost had seen in men who lived to dominate through fear. And Ghost had dealt with men like him before. He knew the kind of game Eric was playing.

"Nice jump, Skull-face," Eric drawled, voice laced with mockery. He folded his arms tightly across his chest, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "You gonna take that mask off, or are you planning to look like a Halloween decoration all year?"

The words hung in the air, and the tension in the Pit shifted almost immediately. The conversations around them died down, replaced by a stillness that spoke volumes. Eric's challenge had landed. The other initiates looked on, some with curiosity, others with disdain, as if they could already feel the unease that was settling in.

You, standing beside Ghost, inhaled sharply, your eyes narrowing slightly. You had caught on. You understood what was happening. Eric wasn't just making a joke; he was asserting dominance. He was testing Ghost. Pushing him. It was a challenge, one that Ghost wasn't going to answer with words.

Ghost didn't move. Didn't speak. His silence was deliberate, stretching into the air like a taut wire waiting to snap.

The silence continued to grow, and the Pit seemed to hold its breath.

Eric's smirk only widened. He took a small step closer, closing the space between them, trying to force Ghost into responding. "Nothing to say?" Eric's voice dropped lower, colder, like the prelude to a storm. "What's the matter? You afraid?"

Ghost didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady, eyes dark and unreadable behind the mask. He took a deliberate step forward, just enough to encroach upon Eric's personal space. The air seemed to grow colder, heavier, charged with the tension between them. The flickering neon lights above cast sharp shadows, distorting Ghost's silhouette, making him seem even more imposing, almost inhuman.

And still, he didn't speak. He let the silence settle, thick and suffocating, until Eric's expression flickered, just for a moment, betraying the slightest trace of uncertainty.

Ghost let the moment stretch. He let the discomfort build, the pit growing heavier around them, until Eric finally broke the stillness with an impatient sneer.

Then, Ghost spoke. His voice was low, cold, and razor-sharp. "I don't talk to dead men."

There was a brief pause. For just a split second, Eric's face faltered, surprise, perhaps? Or anger? Ghost couldn't tell. But the expression was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a tight smile that no longer seemed as sure as before.

Nearby, Four exhaled sharply, a small sound of recognition. Almost like a quiet laugh that he quickly suppressed. You stiffened beside Ghost, no doubt understanding the weight of what had just happened. Defying Eric? It was dangerous. A test of power. But the words were out there now.

Eric's smirk returned, but it was thin and predatory. His voice remained cold, though it now held an edge of something darker, something more dangerous. "Let's see if you can back that up."

He took a step back, eyes gleaming with something malicious and satisfied, as if he'd already won in his mind.

Eric's smirk lingered, curling at the edges like smoke from a slow-burning fire. He had prodded the beast, and now he was waiting, watching, to see if it would bite.

Ghost didn't blink. Didn't shift. Didn't give Eric the satisfaction.

The weight of his words still hung in the air like the ghost of a gunshot. I don't talk to dead men.

You swallowed hard beside him, tension creeping into your posture. You had seen power plays before, Abnegation taught restraint, taught you to recognize dominance without engaging. But this? This was something else. A predator meeting another predator.

Four's sharp gaze flicked between them, calculating, but he didn't interfere. Not yet. This was Eric's moment. His stage. And Ghost had just stolen the spotlight.

Eric let the silence stretch before finally stepping back, his lips twisting into something between amusement and contempt.

"Let's see if you can back that up," he murmured, voice smooth as a blade.

His eyes promised something that sent a slow ripple of unease through the surrounding initiates. They had all heard the rumors, what happened to recruits Eric didn't like. Ghost had just painted a target on his back.

But Ghost?

Ghost didn't care.

Without another word, Eric turned on his heel and strode off, the tension in the Pit dissipating as the crowd released a breath they hadn't realized they were holding. Conversations resumed in hushed voices, sideways glances cast toward the masked soldier who had just challenged Dauntless' most ruthless leader.

Four exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, almost as if he were impressed. Then, he turned to the recruits. "Training starts at dawn. If you don't want to end up factionless, you'll be there on time."

And with that, the initiates dispersed, some whispering, others stealing cautious glances at Ghost before moving away.

You hesitated before looking up at him. He was still watching Eric's retreating form.

You didn't know what Ghost was before today, but one thing was certain.

Eric had started something. And Ghost was going to finish it.

Four took the initiates downstairs through a metallic staircase, his boots echoing against the steel as he led the way. "This is called the Pit. The heart of Dauntless," he announced.

You followed, stepping onto the platform overlooking the massive underground cavern. Loud music pulsed through the walls, a deep bass rattling through your chest. Down below, groups of Dauntless initiates were scattered across the Pit, some laughing loudly, others locked in intense hand-to-hand combat, fists flying as they sparred in makeshift fighting rings.

A slow smile crept onto your face. This was it. This was freedom.

No rigid rules. No silent dinners. No carefully measured words like in Abnegation. The raw energy of Dauntless wrapped around you, electric and untamed. For the first time in your life, you felt like you could breathe.

Four turned to face the group, his sharp eyes scanning each of you as the pounding music and distant laughter echoed through the Pit.

"This is where we eat, sleep, and train," he said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "It's the heart of Dauntless, and from this moment on, it's your home."

You took it all in, the flickering neon lights, the smell of sweat and metal, the clashing of fists meeting flesh in the makeshift fighting rings below. Energy. Chaos. Freedom. It was nothing like Abnegation, where silence and selflessness ruled every aspect of life.

For the first time, you felt something stir deep inside you.

Excitement.

Four continued walking, leading the group further inside. The other initiates murmured amongst themselves, some exchanging nervous glances, others grinning at the raw intensity of the atmosphere.

You stole a glance at Ghost, who stood beside you, his towering presence unwavering. If he had any thoughts about the living conditions, he didn't show it. His posture remained relaxed, yet there was an underlying alertness in the way he scanned the space, like a soldier assessing a battlefield.

"Tomorrow," Four continued, "training begins. If you're weak, you'll fall behind. If you fall behind, you'll be factionless." His tone was firm, matter-of-fact. "So I suggest you all get some rest. You're going to need it."

Christina nudged you with an excited grin. "I don't know about you, but I could get used to this."

You couldn't help but smile. You were finally here. Dauntless.

And you weren't turning back.

Four then took the group deeper into the Pit, leading them through a dimly lit hallway until they reached a large, open space filled with rows of bunk beds. The walls were lined with exposed metal beams, and the air smelled of sweat and iron.

"This is your dorm for the next ten weeks," Four announced, turning to face the group. His tone was flat, like he had given this speech a hundred times before.

"Boys or girls?" an initiate asked hesitantly.

"Combined," Four replied without a hint of amusement.

A collective groan rippled through the initiates.

"Fucking hell," Ghost muttered under his breath, the words barely audible beneath his balaclava.

Four's lips twitched, almost like he was suppressing a smirk. "If you like that, you're gonna love the bathrooms," he added, gesturing toward a doorway on the far side of the room.

You followed his gaze, peering inside, and your stomach dropped.

No stalls. No dividers. No privacy.

A few initiates cursed under their breath, others exchanged horrified glances. Christina's jaw dropped.

"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered.

Four only shrugged. "Welcome to Dauntless."

"Good!" an initiate said, though whether it was sarcasm or genuine enthusiasm, you couldn't tell.

Four didn't react. He simply gave a curt nod and turned on his heel. "Change your clothes," he ordered as he walked out, leaving the group to process the reality of their new living conditions.

A heavy silence settled for a moment before someone muttered, "Anybody wanna take a shower here?"

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but no one volunteered. You exchanged glances with Christina, who grimaced. "Yeah... that's a hard pass for me."

Ghost, standing at the edge of the room, didn't say anything, but his posture remained stiff, his arms crossed over his chest. Clearly, he wasn't thrilled either.

One thing was certain, you were in for a hell of an adjustment.

Without saying a word, Ghost began to change.

He pulled off his hooded leather jacket, revealing a lean, muscular build, broad shoulders tapering down to a defined torso. His left arm was covered in intricate tattoos, a full sleeve of black and grey ink weaving up his veiny forearm, disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt.

You glanced at him, trying not to stare.

His dog tags rested against his chest, catching the dim light of the dormitory before he tucked them beneath his shirt. A silent habit, like something second nature to him.

Then, with practiced ease, he unbuckled his belt and slid off his jeans, standing in nothing but his boxer briefs.

Scars marked his thick, powerful thighs, faded reminders of battles fought long before Dauntless. Some were small, others deep, each telling a story only he knew.

But Ghost didn't pause. Didn't hesitate. He simply reached for the tactical gear provided by Dauntless, pulling on the black cargo pants and tight-fitting shirt like it was just another uniform, another war zone.

If he noticed anyone watching, he didn't show it.

You didn't show it, didn't let your gaze linger for too long, but you felt it.

An undeniable pull.

Ghost was tall, dark, and dangerously handsome. There was something about him, his silence, his confidence, the way he carried himself like a man who had nothing to prove yet commanded attention without trying.

You couldn't help but think...

Who was he beneath the mask?

The scars, the tattoos, the way he moved with quiet precision, it all hinted at a past shaped by war and violence. He wasn't just Dauntless. He had been something more, something lethal, long before stepping into this faction.

You swallowed, pushing the thought away as you focused on changing into your own Dauntless gear. But even as you turned, you knew..

Ghost had already left an impression you couldn't ignore.

[misstycloud]

Yan! Sick Young master x caretaker reader.

Yandere!Young Master who you were brought in to care for. He was known for being exceedingly difficult; his family never managed to hire someone for more than three months, they all got fed up at some point and left as soon as they received their last pay check.

Yandere!Young Master who has a lot of conditions that leaves him unstable. He is not even able to go outside and he rarely eats. Luckily he has his old-money family who cares about him just enough to hire help instead of letting him slowly rot away in a secluded part of the mansion.

Yandere!Young Master who screamed and threw stuff at you the first few times you met. He said he wanted you to leave him alone, that you could even skip work but receive the paycheck anyway(his family wouldn’t notice if you neglected your duties) if you so wished. All he wanted was to be by his lonesome. He never had anyone in his youth and it would remain that way when he was an adult and until the day he died.

This young master was truly troublesome.

Yandere!Young Master that you decided to care for despite his bad temper and hurtful insults. He called you foul names, compared you to filth and made your job a lot harder than it needed to be. Even physical violence like pulling your hair and throwing(more) objects in your direction was not off the table. There was no one to aid you during the especially difficult days since the already-limited staff the house had avoided both you and the young mater like the plague. Staying clear of him was understandable, he had tormented them as well, and they refused to interact with you in fear of you requesting back-up. When they saw a way out they took it, it was as simple as that.

Still, you felt sad for the young master. He had not had the easiest life and was shunned by everyone around him. It really did seem that money could not truly buy everything one needed; the deprivation of support had created his sour personality. While it seemed nice, you didn’t feel like it was right to leech of money you didn’t earn. You wanted to help the broken young man, maybe he would be able to live a somewhat earnest life.

You weren’t sure if you did it because you had somehow come to care for the ill-mannered man, or if it was to satisfy your own need to feel like a good person. Whatever it was, it drove you to try harder than ever to win the young master’s trust.

Yandere!Young Master who was stumped. He did not understand why you treated him so kindly after all the abuse he put you through(yes, he knew he acted horrible but didn’t find it in himself to care). It didn’t make any sense. Why were you approaching him and asking him personal questions while the rest of the staff avoided his room like a bomb had been planted inside? Whenever you’d ask about his hobbies and tastes he’d simply respond with a snarky, “Why the hell do you care?” But no matter how rude he was to you, you never buzzed off like he’d so desperately wanted in the beginning.

Yandere!Young Master who didn’t want you to leave anymore. Truth be told, you made his days feel a lot more worthy than they should’ve been. You're like a breath of fresh air. No servant he's ever had was in your likeness. It seemed like you genuinely cared for him, which is in big contrast to the others.

Yandere!Young Master who began to treat you more kindly. It was subtle in the beginning; he didn't insult you as much, until it stopped all together; he no longer tried to hurt you during his tantrums; the young master eventually started to compliment you at times wether it be your clothes or how you did your hair that day.

Yandere!Young Master who now regarded you as irreplaceable. You had bursted into his monotone life and brought light with you. He could actually smile for once. With you near he didn't feel like he was constantly rotting and had been encouraged enough to wander outside- something he hadn't even though about doing prior to your encounter. You helped him of course and provided safety and stability. He adored getting to cling to you with every finer of his being. Thanks to you he regained his appetite and was growing stronger every day. The young master wouldn't admit it to anyone but his favourite time of day was now mealtime, it was because you would feed him yourself. He would often stare into your eyes without breaking eye-contact whilst you fed him. There was just something so sensual about it. Just the though had him shiver in delight.

Yandere!Young Master who went absolutely ballistic as he suspected you might have a lover. He had overheard you speak to the only male servant right outside his door when you thought he was asleep. He made you laugh- HIM, the good-for-nothing servant boy who never did his job right! What did you see in him? Well, you saw enough to want a date with him. The young master could not stand for it. His blood boiled, how could you seduce him and become the most important person in his life if you were just going to whore yourself out for mere peasants? Did you think you could simply leave him like nothing had happened? Fuck that made him furious.

Yandere!Young Master who reverted back to his old personality, without you understanding why. Now he was mean and ill-mannered again. Every ounce of respect you had earned through hard work and long months had flown out the window in an instant.

Though it stung to see your hopeless expression when he swore at you, he knew it needed to be done. You had to be taught that you couldn't mess with someone's life and abandon them easily. You belonged to him now and he will keep you even if that's not what you desire.