#like to see him turn into this ruthless violent man over the course of the series

[riickgrimes]

carl being the one to remind rick of the man he used to be and bring him back from the brink

[costelloschoice]

I absolutely adore your fics and was thinking about a Yandere Mizu fanfic idea (if you like the idea as well of course) Keep up the good work you're amazing 🥰💜

-Thank you for the request, i made a little something short yet sweet <3 -sorry it took so long, I managed to fuck up my legs by falling from ice (don't ask) so i've been focusing on feeling better :}

Red Means I Love You Yandere!Mizu x fem!reader -warnings: toxic behavior, possessive over reader -hope you enjoy :]

She never felt this way about anyone else. It was scary.

Mizu believed that love wasn't for her. Love was harsh to her, least till you came along. You were such a breath of fresh air, a beautiful rose in a garden of weeds. And she wanted your sweetness all to herself.

You were like a small deer. A fragile and gentle being. Something so pure and sweet, weak and defenseless. So pretty up close but easily scared…Yet she managed to get close to this deer. And you didn’t run away…In fact you decided to come closer to her. She was a hunter, killing many, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate your beauty.

She thought she had a little crush on you. I mean, you were so nice to her and showed her kindness that she always dreamed of. But seeing how Taigen would try to flirt with you, made her feel an unbridled rage. How the hell does this man think he is? First, he has Akemi and now you? No. He doesn’t get to have who ever he wants. Maybe because of Mizu’s childhood he tortured her, but he doesn’t deserve a girl like you.

Mizu would Taigen away, threating him to stay away from you. That Mizu knows men like him will use someone as beautiful as you. Everything about you was perfect, Mizu couldn't find a flaw if she tried. It seems like you've stolen her heart from her. Taigen would get offended and walk away. Like a buck trying to win over a doe deer but failing due to the human the deer was so close to.

In her eyes, no one could be around you or talk to you for too long. She would barely let Taigen speak to you and Ringo was allowed to talk to you and only to help you with an injuries.

When Boss Hamata sent his men to attack Mizu and the women at the tea house, she tried to protect you the best she could. You refused to stay in the basement and help Mizu fight against the corrupted boss and his men. She told you to stay back and hide with the rest...but of course you didn't listen.

You were a foolish girl, but like all humans, we make mistakes.

You were on the ground, bloodied and you tried to stop the man’s katana from going into you. From the blood spots, it looks like you were getting weaker and weaker by the second and wouldn’t be able to last any longer. You were a poor, helpless baby dear against the big bad wolf…You couldn’t find this man off alone. It was pathetic, but in a cute way.

Mizu, trying to have a grip on the situation, immediately went after the man. Ripping the man off of you before stabbing him repeatedly. She was the hunter who took the wolf down to protect her doe deer. She didn’t care if he was dead, she just kept stabbing till her anger subsided.

Now covered in this man’s blood, she turns to see you. You looked petrified. She thought it was because of the man but really it was because of her. She was used to everyone looking at her that way…but your gaze hurt the most. Her deer was surely to run off in the woods and never been seen again from her.

“Oh my dove..” Mizu spoke, moving to you. Her bloody hand caressed your cheek. The smell of iron was thick and heavy, making you flinch and gag internally. You were disgusted by these actions, her violent and ruthless killing. Yes he hurt you but at some point it’s uncalled for….but bigger shouldn’t be choicers.

“You’re safe..” she whispered, placing a kissing to your forehead. A red lip print on your forehead. It felt so wrong but nice after your near death experience.

“My small doe…You’re mine to protect..” she whispered into your skin, continuing to place kisses on your forehead.

“You’re mine.”

She said with aggression present in her tone. You just nodded, what else could you do? She could easily hurt you is you protested. You didn’t wish to die at the hands of your protector.

“I’m yours…”

“All mine..” she mumbled. Mizu caressed the soft hair of her doe deer, calming down the easily frightened creature. She perfect, sweet, weak and fragile deer now safe in her arms again, where she belongs.

[scarlet-witchery]

Ruthless Devotion

they'll make a hundred men bleed raw for the chance to prove themselves. (on canine coded milkoviches.) (ao3)

Put your fucking guard dog on a leash.

Mickey's hands chase over Ian's sides, his teeth nipping at the soft and tender flesh of Ian's lips. There's a soft growl that starts in Mickey's throat and ends up in Ian's own, the two of them pressed as close together as it's possible to be. Heat sears through Ian's body, a delicious high that drugs can't ever seem to replicate. Just Mickey and the way his hands, his lips drive Ian up a wall. There's nothing like him.

Fuck, Ian, he hears Mickey say against his ear, his voice a breathy huff of laughter. Ian can hear the slightest whine in the sound. He'll never admit it, but Mickey likes when Ian makes him just a little bit desperate. There's a lot of things Mickey can't and won't admit to. Like when that guy outside the club told Ian to put your fucking guard dog on a goddamn leash and Ian saw Mickey's shoulders broaden, his whole chest expanding as Mickey inhaled, sharp and sudden.

His guard dog. Protective to a fault, snarling and chasing away anyone he deems unworthy. Mandy had been the same, snapping like a junkyard dog at girls who got too close to Ian in the halls; Ian had to fight the grin that always threatened to cross his face when they did things like that.

He loves fiercely, he knows, but Milkoviches love violently. They love with claws and teeth, loyalty a pale, weak word for what it truly means. Ian doesn't think his love compares, but Mickey and Mandy both stay by his side, refusing to leave. And maybe he had to hold a hand out, let them bite his fingers and draw blood before he gained their trust, but it was worth it. No matter what anyone thinks, they're worth the pain, worth the wounds. Where others see rabid dogs, Ian sees wounded, starving strays in need of protection themselves.

Of course he'd never say it. He'd never tell them that he knows what they are on their insides. Mandy calls herself a bitch, says it proud, dares others to turn it against her. Mickey says he's anything but, that he likes what he likes; the dark and knowing looks he gives to Ian sometimes say otherwise. Where Mandy's all claws, Mickey's all teeth, both of them desperate to dig in and claim territory that they'll defend to death.

Ian's become part of that territory; he's been snapped up by these Milkoviches even with the Gallagher blood in his veins. Like he's a lost fucking sheep they're trying to herd back to safety before the wolves outside can get him. And maybe Mickey's eyes darken when he sees those wolves stalking at Ian's door—Ian knows there's more gazes than Mickey's that linger on his shoulders and his hips, along the hard planes and soft lines of his body. Mickey's there every time he turns around, though, and Ian isn't afraid for himself as long as he has Mickey.

It's not that he's stupid, either; he knows they need protecting, too. They're both the type to leave themselves bleeding, ignore their jagged wounds in favor of his papercuts. So Ian has to look out for them—both of them, because as much as Mickey has clawed his way and made himself a den of Ian's insides, Mandy was always first. And she's always been more fragile. A dog can bite to defend itself, but beat it enough and it learns to keep its teeth in its mouth. That's what Ian's here for, though; he'll keep a knife ready to fight off any man who hurts her, and let her hide her beautiful bruised face in his shoulder so she doesn't show weakness.

And then there's Mickey—Mickey, who even now traces the lines of Ian's ribs, a little too easily seen against the pale skin of his torso. Mickey, who kisses hard like a punch to the jaw and yet sweet like spring rain. Mickey, who has eyes the color of Lake Michigan and just as impossibly deep. Mickey, who came into Ian's life like a car crash and who Ian never wants to let go. It's selfish, maybe; dangerous, certainly. They grin against one another's mouths and Ian traces his tongue over Mickey's teeth.

Mickey is a guard dog, fierce in devotion and determined to protect what's his. And maybe Ian shouldn't like the way that Mickey snaps and snarls, straining to be let off the leash and bring down violence on anyone who dares look at Ian like he's only there to be used up and spat back out. It doesn't matter that Mickey looks at Ian like a piece of rare meat, because from him there's a longing and a neediness that goes with it. There's a craving, a desire that goes beyond the surface—he knows that his body is only one of the many things Mickey wants, unlike those other men. Mickey will take anything Ian gives him, the pain and the pleasure mixing between their bodies.

It sends a perverse kind of lust through Ian when he sees Mickey's inked knuckles causing bruises to bloom on the jaws and eyes of nameless men with bad intentions. There's a delicious sort of dizziness, knowing how much Mickey enjoys it, too. And maybe Ian and Mickey have bad intentions with each other, too, but those are dark desires that they only share with each other. The way Ian nuzzles against Mickey's neck, smelling the heady, sharp scent of his cologne, and Mickey clutches at him with need. He wants, he wants, he wants…and he knows Mickey wants to give him everything.

Guard dogs off their leashes—that's what Mickey and Mandy are. Ian would never claim to know how to tame them, would never want to anyway, but they're both so beautiful in how dangerous they can be. It's different, the way he loves each of them, how they love each other, but the three of them have found a way to carve out some existence that fits them well. Ian knows what it feels like to cradle their jaws in his hands, to press his lips against the pale skin of their cheeks. They've let him in and let him see their vulnerability. Guard dogs who guard themselves fiercely. Mickey sleeps curled up by Ian's bed each night, putting himself between Ian and whatever threat might come.

And Ian knows it might be wrong. Hell, he sees the looks his family gives him, when Mandy would defend him a little too loud, when Mickey does anything for Ian without being asked. He knows what it looks like. But god, he doesn't care. That kind of devotion means everything coming from them. Coming from a Milkovich, it's a declaration of love.

Right now he's buried himself deep inside Mickey, the rough brick biting into Mickey's back as they move together. Ian bites down on perfect, smooth skin as Mickey growls Ian's name against his ear. The want and need, the pleasure and pain, it all comes together in this single unmatched moment. He hitches Mickey's leg up higher and tightens his grip in Mickey's hair, dull teeth sharp against Mickey's delicate neck.

He's not the only one with claws and fangs.

There's a pull and a groan, heat scorching through Ian's body as he moves; he feels Mickey's body pressed against his own, tight and tense like a live wire. There's a frenzied kiss, blood on their lips and it doesn't matter whose. The sounds of their breaths coming harsh and jagged break through the distant noises of the city. Ian doesn't fucking care about anything else in this moment, this white-hot moment where he can love Mickey Milkovich exactly as he deserves. Loyalty and devotion rewarded, as they should be. The only one who gets this from Ian, and it's all Mickey's alone. Those other men don't own Ian's heart, not even his body, despite what they may think.

Mickey's head nearly smacks against the brick as he comes apart, shuddering, unable to hold himself together. This is the part that Ian loves, that he always tries to watch if he can. Watching the moment where Mickey takes something for himself instead of giving it away so easily. And he still gives it to Ian—he gives his body to Ian so many times, every day and every way he can—but this, this moment where he breaks into pieces and pulls Ian's pleasure into himself. Like he'd devour Ian whole if he had the chance.

And Ian knows he'd let him. Would do it without a second thought. He knows he'll never find it again, this ruthless devotion that came to him with harsh, clear blue eyes and bruised, gentle knuckles that threaten violence at every moment. He buries himself inside Mickey—he doesn't want to come up for air, just wants to breathe him in until that scent is all he knows. It's the way Mickey sends him out of his head and yet grounds him unlike anything else. His guard dog, his leashed protector. Mickey would make the world bleed for Ian. Maybe it should scare him.

It only makes Ian love him more.

[jermer10]

If possible could I ask for yandere tf2 mercs (all or your favourites, whichever you choose!) with an enemy reader?

I imagine the mercs aren't too happy about this as most of their time is spent apart.

Keep up the fics!!

TF2 yandere mercs with an enemy s/o

nsfw, gn reader | i love yandere mercs holy cow

tw: violence, yandere behaviour, sexual themes

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: - insanely delusional - just as he acts with pauling, he convinces himself that you are totally and utterly in love with him, that you're saving yourself for him and that you specifically target him during battles because you feel the exact same love-rage he does when he sees you!! - every shot to the head, every punch, kick, scratch leads him to becoming increasingly infatuated - he treats you as if you're already his partner, and i mean hey, why wouldn't you be? you're showing all of the signs! you're practically slobbering over him the same way he does to you! - goes into a fit of jealous rage when someone else kills you - he prides himself of having a domination streak over you, letting you know who the big guy in charge is - this likely only serves to piss you off, unfortunately you probably don't feel much of the same towards him - even if you do return his feelings, you'll often find yourself feeling far too overwhelmed with his infatuation

Soldier: - a clingy mess - for a man who prides himself on being 'the epitome of what independent, masculine america stands for' (whatever THAT means), it seems he has attached himself to your hip - is not afraid to harm or (in the majority of cases) straight up kill someone who tries to separate him from you and has done this both in front of you and behind your back - doesn't even register the fact that you are the enemy, he decides that it was a mistake and you were always meant to be on his team - your escape attempts barely cross his radar, he always finds you and when he does he always chalks your absence up to some sort of foul play - this usually results in another death of a random loved one because "OF COURSE THEY WERE TO BLAME! THEY STOLE YOU FROM ME!" - has no boundaries or limits, not outright violent or aggressive towards you but will do anything in order to keep you beside him - all in all not a huge threat to your safety despite the fact that he is supposed to be your combatant, he's just incredibly annoying

Pyro: - the epitome of a sadistic yandere - they come off as a sweetheart, out of battle they buy you things, shower you in praise, act as if you aren't even enemies - but pyro enjoys hurting you, and this especially works in their favour when you're on the opposite team - utterly ruthless whether they're physically harming you or taunting you from across the battlefield, you leave the match feeling miserable - they love seeing you cry, half-assedly comforting you, and in turn causing you to grow this needy codependency where they say that they "don't reeeeaaally mean it!" and you somehow continue to believe that bold faced lie - they will eventually kidnap you, and yes they will torture you whether you've been good or not - no one even knows it was them who did it, they're just that convincing in their unassuming facade - don't get me wrong! they do love you in some sick way! they just only know how to express it through violence </3 (and NO you cannot fix them)

Demoman: - another clingy merc, only this time you're best friends - yes, he is aware you're supposed to be enemies on and off the battlefield, but his feelings for you outweigh the not so gentle reminders from his teammates that he needs to shoot you when he encounters you, not flirt - extremely manipulative, he uses his alcoholism as a cover for how intelligent he really is - would charm you with words of affection and chaste touches, he ensures that you are 100% into him before asking you out - then he isolates you from everyone you love, preoccupying all of your time, supporting you in any interest that doesn't require you to communicate with other people - he is CONSTANTLY there, whether you're aware or not. you literally cannot get away from his, quite literal, watchful eye - if you realize what he's doing, you sure as hell haven't made any steps to try and remove him from your life, nor have you set boundaries - after all, where would you even run? who would you even tell?

Heavy: - controlling and protective - he refuses to harm you, nor let anyone on his team harm you, this leads him to completely incapacitating you during battle so you're essentially useless - your teammates hate the extra attention you receive, they hate even more that you can't help whatsoever, eventually they tell you to stay at base, no use for you to come with if you're not doing anything - eventually when you do go missing, they just assume you left - heavy corroborates this story, telling the Administrator that he heard rumours of you packing up during the night and fucking off - little do they know you're tied up, gagged, and blindfolded in an unused, heavily locked and guarded maintenance room - he will not let you leave, he's more likely to pack up and take you back to russia than to ever let you see the new mexico landscape again - you are going to rot in a maintenance closet, or die trying to escape

Engineer: - very chill and normal surprisingly? - or so you think. he doesn't come off as creepy or odd the way the other mercs do, he is totally and utterly normal to a fault - he fights you during battle, kills you, dies to you, thanks you for a good fight afterwards - and then your devices begin spasming, your anti viruses go off, your phone calls have a strange staticky sound and a beeping you've never heard before - against your better judgement, you go to engie for help. he "fixes" them for you, and in the process gains your friendship and trust - you start hanging out with him outside of battles, unbeknownst to you that he is observing your every move and thought through your phone and laptop - uses this information about you to become closer to you, buying you gifts you're unable to afford for yourself, performing the kinds of romantic gestures you read about - if he wasn't constantly watching you and obsessing over your whereabouts, he would barely even qualify as a yandere!

Medic: - this guy is creepy, off-putting, odd, and strange! - he doesn't bother hiding his obsession with you, he actually goes out of his way to push your boundaries to see how far he can go before he breaks you - depending on how you respond will decide your fate with him, either way he is not going to let you go so you might as well adapt! - if you show outright disgust or hatred he will kidnap you and store you in the medbay, experimenting on you for hours with no relief, punishing you for your insolence - if you reciprocate he will still kidnap you, only this time he treats you like a doll, treating your various cosmetic 'ailments' in order to make you the perfect creature - he is incredibly strict and commandeering, if you step out of line for even a second he does not hesitate to torture you - he only rewards you with sexual favours and new clothes, you are quite literally just a doll for his enjoyment - he tells you he loves you, but you're not so sure you believe it

Sniper: - likes to hunt you - he treats you like how one would hunt a deer, seeing you as the ultimate prize and reward for his patience - wants you to find out about him, wants you to find it endearing and sexy, wants you to make the first move - he is the most self aware, snapping out of his obsessive haze regularly and vowing that 'this time will be the last' as he aims his sniper at your head and blows it off - but it never is. he is totally and utterly addicted to you, and it only gets worse the longer he waits for you to offer yourself to him, so he takes action - he corners you in the middle of a battle and takes you then and there, you'd think it was sexy if he didn't kill you immediately after - then a strange, sadistic game of cat and mouse ensues, he stalks you day in and out and you know, you entice, and you keep this little thing you have going a very well kept secret - the only relationship between the mercs that becomes mutually beneficial

Spy: - by far the most manipulative and cunning merc - he can spend years leading you on, flirting, dropping subtle hints of his overwhelming, consuming obsession with you - he showers you will affection and gifts, with luxury holidays and designer brands without ever actually committing to you - he lies about sleeping with other people to keep you wrapped around his finger, he lies about having another family, kids, another life - he treats you as if you're his special side piece, that no one must know about you, that what you have is a secret - he constantly backstabs you (literally and figuratively), both teams know your deepest secrets, they know your favourite position, they know the names of all your stuffed animals - he treats you like shit and promises to be better, all whilst staying up every night concocting another way to keep you intrigued with him, to keep you by his side, it eats him alive - you have a love/hate relationship, the most toxic man alive istg

[eureka-its-zico]

Violent Delights

Summary: On a trip with your father to Shanghai, your caravan is overrun. You are taken back to a compound of one of the most ruthless Mafia bosses in all of China: Enishi Yukishiro. Who was in need of a new plaything. 

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x f!reader

Words: 3.3k

A/N: I apologize in advance for the filth. This is literally 99.9% smut and 1% filth. I blame @pauking5  for indulging me too much with wanting to write Enishi. But also the minute she told me she couldn't find too many reader insert fics for him my body felt COMPELLED to make this for her so....I hope you enjoy this filth I made you lol. I’m like sorry, but not? Because he doesn’t give me cute smiles and rainbow vibes. He gives me spit in my mouth and make me call you daddy vibes. I hope someone out there enjoys the filth. 🖤 Much love, Jenn

Warnings: This shit is dark besties. It’s dark. Mentions of kidnapping. Dubious consent. Mafia trope. Knife play. Harem. Mentions of violence. Fingering. Its Smut. It's Filth. Please do not read if you are not 18+ (If I miss anything please let me know).

Next

The smell of sex was beginning to overpower the room. The sounds of her moans grew louder and out of control. It was the wet sound of him thrusting into her, his hands keeping her steady as his hips pistoned into her. 

She was only growing louder with each thrust and you hated it. You wished she would shut up. That he would find a new toy to torment in the seclusion of the prison that was his bedroom. It’s been three whole days since he and his men had descended on your father's caravan. Three days of being housed inside this room and unable to leave it.

Like the previous nights before, he’d stationed you in different areas of the room. Areas that allowed you to perfectly see - to watch - as one of his concubines rode him. While he fucked them into an oblivion that left them dazed and unable to walk by the time he finished. 

Tonight, Enishi forced you to sit at the edge of his bed while he’d chosen to fuck one of the many girls in the chair he sat in now. You could still remember when she first walked in the door - the way he’d laid her over the intricate table that sat in between the two chairs in the bedroom, lifting her skirts to expose her to the room. To you. The lewd noises that followed as he licked and sucked at her cunt caused her to practically howl his name as she came. 

Enishi. 

The nice one - you’d forgotten her name - explained the best she could through the language barrier that they were concubines. 

You’d heard of tales from your father and mother when they’d come back from their grand adventures about women like this. Kingdoms where the kings got to have their wives and children and women just like her on the side. Women who did whatever was sexually asked of them and took whatever the man did because it was their duty. Deemed only for the pleasure they could bring and not conversation or substance. 

Just their body. Just their cunt. 

You could feel your cheeks burning as you focused on the edges of your dirty dress. You tried counting the frayed edges of one side that had torn when they’d ripped you from the carriage. The mud that had smeared on one side where you’d been dragged had completely dried and now began to flake. You ran your fingers over the dried dirt and watched it turn into sand with each rub of your finger. 

It would’ve been a solid distraction if the sudden octave from the concubine hadn’t increased. If she didn’t shout in surprise that left you involuntarily turning to make sure she was alright. 

Of course, she was alright. Enishi had simply changed positions. He’d moved her to be face down against the same round table from earlier, but now her hips were angled up to take each punishing thrust that he gave her. The sound of skin on skin filling the room back up at a punishing speed. 

It wasn’t the sight really that made a heat wave start across your skin that threatened to burst from your chest from sheer embarrassment. It wasn’t the angle he had her in either. 

Enishi was looking at you. 

Dark brown eyes bore into you as he held the concubine's arms back behind her. His body pinned her to the edge of the table so she had nowhere to run. Just like you. He continued to watch you as she came; her walls squeezing him as she struggled to get away from him as he continued to fuck her. 

You refused to look at him or acknowledge him at all. What you hated the most was that you already knew what he was planning to do. 

The first time he’d done this was two days prior. The first day you’d been kidnapped and held at his compound. He’d fucked two girls that night and you’d been more than impressed at his stamina. You’d tried to look away from him. He was your father's killer, for Christ's sake, and yet…

He was all tight corded muscle and shamelessly walked around the room naked and exposed. The first time you’d seen his cock it had been slick and wet from recent sex with one of the girls. His cock was still hard and had an enticing vein that ran down its side, begging for you to look. Enishi had a good length but what replayed in your mind was how thick he was. Insanely thick is what you shamelessly remembered and you hated how your body reacted as you shamefully rubbed your legs together to get some form of friction. 

The second day was when he’d noticed it. The way your legs moved under all that fabric of the skirts of your dress desperate for friction to ease the ache that had started at your core. With each snap of his hips and the cry of pleasure that came from one of the girls it sent you spiraling. You hated it. Felt betrayed by your own body. 

After he’d finished and sent the girls back to their room he casually came over to the chair he’d forced you to sit in. The same one he’d been in tonight. You tried to ignore him as he came over in nothing but a robe with the front still leaving him exposed. Your mind was worried about so many different possibilities of what he might do to you, that you never expected him to grab you by the throat and force you back into the chair. His feet kick your legs wide apart. 

Enishi controlled you easily. The way he applied just enough pressure to arch your back until you looked at the ceiling. His deep baritone resonated over your skin in his native tongue. You couldn’t tell what he was saying and had no way of knowing what it was. You just knew whatever he said as he lifted your skirts, was filthy. 

His knees kept your legs open enough that his free hand made its way through your undergarments to touch your wet cunt. You could still remember the devilish smirk that stretched across his lips as he continued to speak to you. 

Was he calling you a good girl or something or worse maybe? He could’ve been calling you his little slut for all you knew or even hinting that you liked it; like watching him devour the women he brought to his bed. Something nowhere near endearing and more centered around stripping you of every last ounce of what dignity you had left. You struggled to fight against him. To break free and do…what? 

Even if you somehow magically removed his hand from your throat and got away you had nowhere to go. Just outside the door of his bedroom were an endless number of guards. They would easily stop you and bring you back. 

Those same nimble fingers that touched at the edge of your cunt now moved between your folds. A soft whimper left your throat that you wish you would have swallowed back down. The pads of calloused fingers grazing your swollen clit wasn’t enough friction for release, but it was enough to bring your desire flaring up. 

Enishi pulled his hand back from you to find it covered in your juices. You watched as he played with it, his fingers scissoring to make a slow string appear. It was lewd. Vile. Yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away. Your heart now thundering for another reason as you watched him take your body’s betrayal between his lips and suck his fingers clean. 

Like clockwork, you heard him pull out. The lack of sound of skin on skin made the room achingly quiet. His words were sharp, demanding, and harsh as he took her by the head and pushed her towards his cock. His hand fisted it as he pulled long hard jerks leaving strings of come to lace over her waiting tongue - with his eyes glued to you. 

You fought not to shiver or let your hands curl in your lap as your heart hammered in your chest. 

Steady breathing. Deep…steady…breaths…

You faintly heard him dismiss her. Your eyes catch her hurrying back into her kimono and tying it sloppily. However, the look Enishi was giving her was enough to inform her plainly her usefulness was over. 

You’d seen what he could do that day he tore your world apart. The finesse he carried shattering bones and the ease of snuffing out life. You’d seen it in the way he handled some of the women he brought to his bed. All it took was one wrong move - word - and their moans turned to sharp whimpers before they were dismissed. 

There wasn’t any denying that Enishi was a man possessed by the devil and full of rage. He was terrifying, but also…

The sound of the door slamming shut behind the concubine brought you back to the room. Your heart was beginning to race as you realized you’d zoned out, leaving yourself unprepared for whatever was about to happen. A majority of the time he left you alone. He’d stare at you or move around you like you weren’t even in his room, except yesterday was different. 

Today felt different.

Enishi wasn’t anywhere near you, however, and you felt yourself breathe easier. Maybe you would get lucky and he would go back to treating you like a nuisance trapped inside his room. A nuisance he created. 

He was standing next to his desk and it only took a flick of your eyes to know he wasn’t dressed. He was still naked. It only meant one thing. Suddenly, you were confident to try and run away from this room - from him. The alarm in your head only grew louder as he poured himself a drink from the whiskey canter and set it back on the desk. 

He’d started talking and you weren’t sure if it was at you or to you. It was growing increasingly difficult to not grow more frustrated at the language barrier between you. The only good thing was spitting and the middle finger was a universal “fuck you” from the universe. 

You dared to spare a look up from where you sat on his bed. It was then you saw the wakizashi in his hand. The sheath missing and the blade glinted angrily in the light. Your mouth was suddenly dry, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to retreat. Your hands flew back on the soft sheets to try and pull you away; desperate to get some space. 

In one swift motion, Enishi tipped what was left in his glass into his mouth and launched it against the wall. The glass shattered immediately on impact and sent sharp fragments flying across the room with one scratching across your face. You screamed as you felt the sting of the air as it entered the fresh cut. You were concerned about whether you would crawl back into the glass when a hand wrapped around your bare ankle and tugged.

A fresh scream rose in your throat and just as you were about to release it, the wakizashi was pressed tightly against your throat. It was close enough that if you swallowed too hard you might just get cut. Enishi pulled you back down to the bed with your legs spread to make room for him. The duvet that had bunched at the end from your struggle was the only thing that saved you from feeling his cock pressed against you. 

Enishi waited until he had your ass barely on the edge of the bed, the rest hanging off and controlled by his waist. This was the closest you’d ever been to him. Your eyes hungrily took in the sight of the muscles in his stomach and the definition in his chest. The veins in his arms that shamelessly matched the veins in his cock. 

Enishi was raw power and if it wasn’t for the fact he had the wakizashi to your throat maybe you would’ve appreciated him more. What were you even thinking? This was the man who’d set your whole world on fire. Kidnapped you and left you a prisoner in a foreign land and at his mercy. 

A fire of rage lit up inside you and you no longer cared about being complacent. Safe. You wanted to tear him apart. Enishi noticed the change because a wry smile of a challenge lit up his face and when you went to move away from him, your hands clawing at his chest, he easily grabbed your arms and pressed them down. He did the same with the blade of the wakizashi and you felt the first warm trickles of blood slide down the side of your throat.  

He leaned forward until your faces were almost touching. His eyes peeked out from the blades of his air like a tiger in the grass. The richness of his voice smoked across your skin. All words you couldn’t understand, but the body language you could. 

He would kill you if you did it again. You were kept alive on the whim of entertainment for him. You wanted to spit at him. Tell him to fuck off just to see if he would do it. Death had to be better than this. 

The train of reasoning and fury came to an end when you felt the first traces of his fingers at your entrance. Panic flooded you while you realized he’d worked the skirts of your dress up leaving you exposed to the room - to him. 

“No.”

It came out rushed and through your nose. You tried to pull your arms free from under the forearm that held them, blade at your throat be damned, but Enishi was a mountain of strength and you had none left. You were still wet and you hated the way it made you seem wanton. 

Enishi mumbled one last thing before you felt two fingers push their way inside you. The reaction he received was instant. A moan sharp and wild burst from your mouth and enveloped the room. The sound was all the permission Enishi needed to start thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt.

You wanted to tell him to stop - to tell yourself that you didn’t want this as Enishi buried his fingers knuckle deep over and over. His fingers curved upwards deliciously and you found your back arching against the sheets. A fresh sting from the blade carving across your skin as one hand grabs at his forearm and the other bunch in the sheets. 

God, you hated the way you were coming undone for him. The way your cunt tightened hungrily around his fingers to pull him in deeper in hopes of feeling fuller. The only way that would happen would be to feel the delicious stretch only his cock could provide. You wouldn’t go there. Wouldn’t allow this monster anymore of your body. 

With the hand on his forearm, you tried to make him stop and only succeeded in feeling the muscles work below the skin with each thrust from his wrist. 

Slowly, he removed the wakizashi from your neck and drew the blade across your collarbone. Even lower it continued until you heard the sound of fabric ripping as it was sliced open. Enishi timed each shred into the fabric with each pump from his wrist. When he finished the whole front of your dress - the last of the life you’d owned - was bared open exposing your breasts to him. 

One minute the blade was there then gone and replaced with the rough pads of his hand as they groped each breast. His fingers took the raised buds between calloused fingers that gently pinched.

Your body reacted to every touch of his hand on your skin and the demands it placed on it. Your hips were now moving in a desperate rhythm to meet his fingers. Your hand still locked on his forearm while the sheet was fisted in your hands. The duvet cradling around your head and practically smothering you as a throaty moan of, “Fuck,” came from you. You tried to smother it inside the duvet, refusing to let him hear just how good you felt with his fingers knuckle deep inside you. 

You pulled the duvet closer with your head turning to greet the soft fabric when it was ripped painfully out of your hand. The hand that had been at your breasts now was at your face squeezing it hard and forcing you to look at him. 

Enishi growled something - you could only assume it dealt with ownership. Whatever sounds you made belong to him and for him alone because as he spoke his thumb pressed down against your clit and rubbed in circles as the pace between your thighs grew brutal. The stimulation tore a moan from you instantly and you tried to pull your face away but Enishi held tight forcing you to fall apart as he watched. 

With the dual stimulation, it didn’t take long for your orgasm to build. Your walls fluttered around his fingers as your breathing became labored. 

Again, he spoke to you. His voice caresses along your skin like an extension of his hands. His thumb flicked up on your clit and he released his hold on your face allowing it to fall back on the pillows. This time you didn’t try and cover all the sounds he fucked out of you with his fingers. 

Just as your orgasm was about to crest Enishi brought his mouth down against his breast and bit down. His teeth tearing into the soft flesh turning your panting moans into a scream. Suddenly, your orgasm hit you with a violent intensity. The feeling of you gushing all over his hand - his bed - made your body feel euphoric as your orgasm rolled through you but the violence of his teeth imprinting against the tender flesh of your breast edged it towards pain. 

You knew he was marking you on purpose. One part because he could and the other because you were property - his property. 

When the aftershocks of your orgasm began to fade you were greeted with pain. Enishi pulled his mouth away from your breast and a wicked smile beamed down to greet you- a tint of your blood staining his lips. Again he spoke to you and again you wished you knew either the Japanese he spoke or the Cantonese he used whenever he spoke to most of the men who entered his office. You wish you could tell him how much you hated him and that he could claim you like this as many times as he wanted, but that hatred would never dull or fade. 

He must have seen it on your face because that smile spread into laughter as he pulled away from you. He was still completely nude and uncaring as he grabbed a towel and tossed it in your direction. Enishi gave you one last look before his bare feet padded towards the bathroom. 

You’d been dismissed. Just another toy he proved to himself he could have in the many at his disposal. You tried to remain calm as you sat up at the edge of the bed. Your hands shook uncontrollably as you took the towel he’d tossed and began to clean up what you could. 

The front of your dress was completely ruined. You weren’t even able to fold it over you. Fresh tears sprang to your eyes as you realized you had nothing left and maybe that was how Enishi wanted it. No family to come looking for you. Lost in a foreign land and kidnapped by the head of a criminal organization. He would take what he wanted because you weren’t strong enough to fight him or deny him. And maybe Enishi’s goal all along was to make the only person you could depend on be him. 

_________

As always, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

_________

[heroic-ignus]

May the Gods have mercy on our souls... ~*

Surface.

"Eveybody knows of the man with no name who travels through the land offering his services as a swordsman. He's been around for a few years, maybe one or two decades at this point, a wanderer, a vagabond, owner of the title "The Errant Knight", once used to mock him for his job as a sellsword with no place to call home, but that now has turned into something more, a label of respect, for his abilities with the blade are nothing but art. Rumors say he hunts those whose deeds are obscure whilst protecting those who need it from the darkness of the world, and that his sword knows no defeat against evil, a warden of light, but those might just be exaggerations..."

Biography.

( TW: Suicide; Violence; Abuse & Blood Mention )

The town of Skohfjell was home to the Ignus family for generations, tale told from father to son that once upon a time they had been part of nobility, tricked into ruination, but nothing to confirm these words. Tales such that made Arthos Ignus what he was: a man driven by his ego whose heart was as dark as the end of times, ruthless, violent and, unfortunately, a swordsman like no other, which helped him become captain of the townsguard. Of course that was not enough for the ambitious and selfish man, he needed more, he wanted an easy life, and more than that he wanted even more power over others. Although he couldn’t marry nobility, through his handsome appearance and his charming words he managed to lure in the daughter of a rich Merchant, Lucelia Aresio, whose naivety blinded her to the multiple signs that would eventually haunt her future.

Before marriage, Arthos was everything someone could wish for, he was strong, handsome, eloquent, charming and caring, but everything changed once the vows were made and their first son was born. Like water turning to wine, he became cold, distant, rude and even violent, and even though he never hurt her physically paradise became hell to the poor Lucelia who once dreamt of a happy family. She killed herself before Alder was ten, and the little boy was the one to find her hanging from the ceiling, swinging ever so slightly due to the wind coming from the window to the beautiful day outside but that to him was closer to a cold winter now, a scene that would remain burnt into his memory.

After his mother’s death, Alder was blamed for what she’d done to herself by his father, who desperately tried to revert the situation it had caused, her family asking questions and taking their money away from the claws of the man who they correctly believed to be at fault, leaving their legacy to be collected only by Alder himself on his sixteenth birthday. Now, having had his desired wealth and comfort stripped from him, Arthos became more violent than ever, constantly leaving his son at the brink of death every time he drank, which was almost every day, incapable of even eating properly. Rare were the days he would be able to go back to his bed to sleep, too weak to resist, too hurt to move.

Alder spent the next five years being only a punching bag to his father, incapable of defending himself. A wrong look or any word that was in a slightly different tone than what Arthos wanted would lead to punishment. It would’ve kept going if not for a call from the Lord of Skohfjell ordering Arthos to lead a few of his men outside of the town to deal with some bandits that had been terrorizing merchants. That kind of task would usually save Alder for a few weeks at best, but for some reason it took way longer than expected, and, as such, the cleaver boy could finally fully recover and take his time to go outside in search for help. Unfortunately, things weren’t as easy as they might have seemed.

Everywhere he went, people turned their backs on the young boy, and at first he didn’t understand why they all had that reaction, but soon he could see in their eyes that familiar look, something he had carried with him all these years: fear. They all knew about his father’s reputation, someone who would go out of his way to destroy those who were weaker than him, and few were the ones that could rival him in battle. Just before the boy gave up, a hooded man offered him a hand, a man by the name Errond, he trained the young Alder Ignus with a sword for the next few months, and for some that could’ve seemed like wasted effort, but it wasn’t. Some could say Alder was a prodigy with the sword, but, of course, that wouldn’t be enough to fend himself against his father, so he chose a path different from Arthos’s, instead of relying on strenght and overpowering his opponents, he focused on his dexterity, evading and parrying his enemy’s blade until he saw the opportunity to counter.

When Arthos came back from his task, Alder had already changed, there was fire in his eyes unlike before, and that wasn’t something he enjoyed, so the older Ignus decided to punish him for that, but this time the boy had a blade, so the swords had to clash before he could teach him a lesson. Perhaps it was because his father underestimated him, or maybe because his blade was corrupted by the alcohol he’d been drinking before coming home, but slicing his arm off was too easy for the younger Ignus, so he had to blink a few times before even hearing the screams of agony echoing through the streets and slowly bringing people out of their houses to see what was happening. His father tried his best to grapple him to the ground, but Alder was faster, and there went his other hand, blood painting the streets red, and in that moment he had the chance to choose, but what came to him wasn’t anger or sadness, it was apathy, so he cut that old man’s head to stop the loud noise.

Now that he had his revenge, he was ready for the punishment that, in his mind, would certainly follow his actions, but instead he was met with praise and joy from all those around him, as if celebration was the result of his father’s death. Graced with the title of  The Hero of Skohfjell by the people for dethroning an evil man in power, untouchable by even the law and the Lord, he would finally be able to live his life as a normal person from that day on... Or that’s what he thought.

A few nights after that, as he was laid in bed, looking intently at the ceiling, still unable to believe he’d killed a man, a confused mix of satisfaction and guilt for being happy about that bathing his mind, he felt it. Pain throughout his whole body unlike anything he’d ever felt, as if every bone in his body was breaking and healing at the same time, his voice unable to escape his throat due to the contraction of his muscles in response to everything. He couldn’t beath, and his vision started fading slowly, as the lack of oxygen took away his consciousness. That night he dreamt of running through the streets of Skohfjell under the moonlight, feeling the wind hitting his skin as he reached great speeds, and soon he was inside the Ironwood Forest, jumping fallen trunks, the scent of nature to his nose, and as he looked around, wolves, but he wasn’t scared, it was as if he’d connected with them in a certain way.

All that faded into non-sense as he woke up in his bed, and it would’ve passed as just a dream if not for his dirty naked body as he looked at himself in the mirror. It was the beginning of a new nightmare: he’d become something else, something forbidden across all Iskaldrik, a creature of shadows, a supernatural being, a werewolf. Now he had two skins in which he resided and none in which he felt free, a man deemed hero by the people and a monster to be hunted by the light. He clinged into that mask of rightousness crafted by the citizens to hide his secret, doing his best to become the symbol of justice they made him into so to distract them from the signs of his duality. Luckily, he had the talent and soon became the very best swordsman in the town, just like his father, but unlike him Alder was kind or was it just the mask? That’s something he never really figured out until the day of his death.

What was supposed to be his second, and final, chance at freedom became his third nightmare as he suddenly came to his senses covered in the blood of the people he’d sworn to protect, his features reflected on the broken glass from the window he’d broken through, feral, savage, demonic, and in that moment his heart sunk into hopelessness as he realized what he had become: the monster which resided in his interior, creeping around in between both his forms, always there to haunt him. Maybe that's what he really deserved, what he truly was. He wandered around for some time, but could never stay in the same place for long as eventually this dark side of him came out and took control of him, rendering him a mere puppet of the darkness that corroded his soul. Stories of The Hero of Skohfjell never stopped spreading throughout Iskaldrik, and every time he heard a song about himself he’d feel disgust for what he’d become.

When Iskaldrik suffered from the war that would crush it, he fled from there, becoming a citizen of the world, but it was only after meeting a certain someone that light finally fought back against the darkness he’d holed himself into, and since then he’s been trying to forgive himself while battling inside and out for a chance at redemption, maybe someday he hopes to live up to the title bestowed upon him, for now, he’s become a sellsword for anyone with a heart in the right place, helping those who need it and charging a price equivalent to what they can pay. That’s when he finally tried connecting to his wolf self to find a way to fight the urge to do evil, and that’s when he met Lor, the dire wolf he connected with and which helps him during his crisis, as he directs his feral instincts to evildoers.

Personality.

Charismatic +++ || Observing ++ || Just + Distant +++ || Quiet ++ || Headstrong +

Alias.

He goes by TEK, short for his new title.

Status.

Currently in Lysara.

SKELETON

[killerandhealerqueen]

Okay, this one is specifically Killer and Healer and it is both Mafia and whump: Chen Yuzhi, the gang's doctor and the Boss's lover has been kidnapped by a rival gang.

Here are my 2 big directions the whump could go:

1. General aftermath of torture fic

OR

2. Chen Yuzhi loses his memory!

Either way, angst with a happy ending and Jiang Yuelou gets to go on a rampage (either while saving Chen Yuzhi or after he has been safely recovered to hunt down the rest of the gang/the boss who ordered the kidnapping)

Oh, this one is going to be delicious. Oh, I'm practically salivating at what I can do with this one. And I apologize to Chen Yuzhi in advance, I put my baby through it (This fic is very violent, so you've been warned)

Pain.  That was all Chen Yuzhi felt coursing through his body; nothing but pain.  As he knelt there in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, blood caking the side of his head, lashes covering his back, and chains around his wrists, ankles, and neck, restraining him like a dog, he wondered…if anyone was going to find him.

~Few Days Ago~

It was a calm and peaceful morning as Chen Yuzhi was standing in his clinic, putting away his patients’ files when arms suddenly snaked around his waist and hugged him tightly, causing him to gasp before he looked over his shoulder to see his husband, Jiang Yuelou, leader of the 天狗吃日 and probably the cruelest, most ruthless man in Jing City, smiling at him.

         “Yuelou!  You scared me!” he exclaimed.  Jiang Yuelou chuckled softly as he gave him a gentle squeeze.

         “Sorry, Yuzhi.  Though I don’t know how you didn’t hear me…normally you can pick up on my sneak attacks” he stated.  Chen Yuzhi huffed.

         “I was distracted by work; can you blame me?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou hummed as he rested his chin on his shoulder.

         “My poor Zhizhi…you work so hard” he murmured.  Chen Yuzhi tsked.

         “I wouldn’t have to be working so hard if I wasn’t just focusing on my patients…but no, I have to treat your men too” he grumbled.  Jiang Yuelou hummed as he glanced at him.

         “Remember dear, you agreed to treat my men and be my triad’s doctor when we got married” he reminded.  Chen Yuzhi nodded.

         “I know I did…and I don’t mind treating them…but not every other day.  Don’t your men have more self-preservation?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou chuckled softly.

         “Oh my dear…my men don’t usually think they’re going to make it to tomorrow.  So, they always give it their all, knowing their day might be their last” he stated.  Chen Yuzhi frowned.

         “That’s rather sad…” he murmured before he looked over at him.

         “What about you?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou raised an eyebrow.

         “What about me?” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi huffed softly.

         “You have self-preservation, don’t you?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou hummed.

         “Before I met you…not really.  I didn’t care about going to war with other triads, I didn’t care if people were out for my head…and I still don’t, not really, but after I met you…I realized that the thought of you, waiting for me to come home when I never would…hurt.  The thought of never seeing you again…hurt” he admitted before he unwrapped his arms from around Chen Yuzhi’s waist and took him by the arm, turning him around so that he was looking him in the eyes as he smiled and reached up, cupping his face in his hands.

         “Because of you…I now “pick my battles” if you will.  If I can solve a dispute civilly, without me having to fight or go to war over it, I’ll choose that, if it keeps me safe and allows me to come home to you” he continued, causing Chen Yuzhi’s eyes to widen before he blushed deeply and lowered his eyes.

         “Yuelou…” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou smiled and tilted his head as he released his face.

         “Yes?” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi lifted his eyes and looked at him before he leaned forward and pecked a kiss to his lips.

         “You’re such a sweet talker” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou laughed as he wrapped his arms around his waist again.

         “My sweet words got you though, didn’t they?” he asked.  Chen Yuzhi tsked and rolled his eyes.

         “If you say so” he replied.  Jiang Yuelou smiled as he leaned forward, his face close to his.

         “I do” he purred before he captured his lips with his, Chen Yuzhi letting out a soft hum as he wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him closer.  When they finally pulled away, Chen Yuzhi huffed softly.

         “You’re lucky I don’t have patients right now” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou smiled and gently knocked his forehead against his.

         “Am I distracting you, Dr. Chen?” he asked.  Chen Yuzhi smiled and shook his head.

         “Never” he whispered.  Jiang Yuelou chuckled and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he pulled away and looked at him.

         “I’m going to be working late tonight.  Don’t wait up for me, okay?” he instructed.  Chen Yuzhi hummed and nodded.

         “Alright.  Be careful” he replied.  Jiang Yuelou smiled.

         “I always am, my love” he assured.  Chen Yuzhi rolled his eyes and gently pinched his side, causing him to jump slightly.

         “Liar” he chided.  Jiang Yuelou laughed and leaned forward, pressing another kiss to his forehead before he pulled away.

         “Alright, I’m off.  I love you” he bid.  Chen Yuzhi smiled softly.

         “I love you too” he replied.  Jiang Yuelou smiled before he turned and headed out of the clinic, pausing at the door to wave goodbye before he continued on his way, Chen Yuzhi smiling fondly after him.  God he loved him.  He then walked over to his workbench and began working on grinding up herbs and other ingredients for his medicines; he needed to keep his supply stocked. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, Chen Yuzhi finished up for the day and quickly closed up his clinic before he began to head home, humming softly.  However, as he was walking, he didn’t realize someone had slipped out of the shadows and was following him until something suddenly covered his face, causing his eyes to widen before the world around him suddenly went dark and he fainted.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When he woke up a little later, Chen Yuzhi found himself in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, on his knees with his arms out to the side, chains around his wrist to hold them there.  There was also a chain around his neck, almost as if he was a dog, and chains around his ankles, holding him in place so that he couldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried.

         “Oh good…you’re awake” a voice called out, making Chen Yuzhi lift his head to see a man dressed in a maroon suit with a half-mask over his face and a cane with an ivory handle standing before him.

         “Who are you?  Where am I?” he demanded.  The man laughed.

         “Who I am isn’t important.  And where you are…well.  That’s also not important” he replied as Chen Yuzhi shook his head.

         “What do you want with me?” he asked.  The man chuckled and tilted his head.

         “Well, you’re Jiang Yuelou’s husband, aren’t you?” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi’s eyes widened as the man smiled viciously.

         And since I can’t get close enough to harm him…I can harm you instead” he declared, making Chen Yuzhi’s eyes widen even further and his mouth fall open in shock before he shook his head.

         “I don’t understand.  What has Jiang Yuelou done—” he started but before he could finish his sentence, the man took his cane and whacked him in the head with it, snapping his head to the side as blood began to trickle down the side of his head.

         “Jiang Yuelou…has been in power for too long.  And it’s time for him to get knocked off his high horse” the man declared.  Chen Yuzhi laughed weakly before he lifted his head and looked at him.

         “If you think you can win…against Jiang Yuelou…you’re sorely mistaken” he spat.  The man’s eyes widened behind his mask and he raised his cane again, causing Chen Yuzhi to flinch and shy away, just as the man huffed.

         “You…doctor…are in no position to talk” he declared before he looked up at the men standing behind Chen Yuzhi and nodded.

         “Beat him” he ordered.  The men then stepped forward and walked over to Chen Yuzhi before they began to beat him, hitting him with baseball bats, 2x4s, and metal pipes.  As they beat him, Chen Yuzhi cried out in pain and tried to curl in on himself but due to the chains holding him in place, he had nowhere to go and instead just had to kneel there and take it.  The man then waved his hand, signaling the men to step back before he held out his hand, another man placing a whip with bits of glass and metal shards wrapped into the tails into it.  He then walked behind Chen Yuzhi and smiled darkly before he raised the whip and brought it down onto Chen Yuzhi’s beaten and bruised back, ripping through his clothes to skin.  As his skin tore, Chen Yuzhi squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, refusing to give the bastard more satisfaction from his screams but the man just continued to whip him until both his clothes and back were shredded.  Once his back was shredded, the man handed the whip to another man and smirked as he walked over to Chen Yuzhi, grabbing his face before twisting it so that he was looking at him.

         “Let’s see if you can survive long enough for Jiang Yuelou to find you…or if he’ll only find a bloody and beaten corpse” he sneered.  Chen Yuzhi’s eyes widened before he lunged at him, only to have the man punch him in the face, stunning him.

         “How dare you…” he growled before he released his face and walked away from him, the rest of his triad following after him, leaving Chen Yuzhi a bloody mess.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, across town, Jiang Yuelou was returning home from a late meeting with another triad, just barely stepping into his mansion before he was greeted by his two subordinates, Song Rong and Sun Yongren.

         “Boss” they panted.  Jiang Yuelou looked at them in confusion.

         “What is it?” he asked.  Song Rong shook his head.

         “Dr. Chen didn’t come home” he stated.  Jiang Yuelou frowned.

         “What do you mean he didn’t come home?” he demanded.  Sun Yongren shook his head.

         “He didn’t come home.  And we thought that maybe he was just working late so we went to go check the clinic but the lights were off and the doors were locked.  And then we thought that maybe went to do a house visit, so we went to see some of his regular patients but all of them said he never came by” he explained.  Jiang Yuelou was quiet before he looked at them.

         “Are you saying…that someone kidnapped Chen Yuzhi?” he asked, his voice low and soft.  Sun Yongren and Song Rong nodded.

         “Yes sir” they replied.  Jiang Yuelou’s eyes widened and he began to tremble with rage before he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself.

         “It’s late.  Tomorrow, we search the entirety of Jing City” he declared.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded.

         “Yes sir” they replied. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Jiang Yuelou relayed the situation to the rest of his subordinates before giving the order to search all of Jing City and to leave no stone unturned.  His men then headed out as Jiang Yuelou let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair.  Who would be stupid enough and brazen enough to do something like this?  He knew he had a lot of enemies…He then sighed heavily again.  Whoever these people were…once he found Chen Yuzhi, he was going to eviscerate them. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, in the abandoned warehouse, Chen Yuzhi was just barely clinging to consciousness when the man and his subordinates walked inside and over to him, the man humming softly as he looked at him.

         “He’s still alive…amazing” he murmured.

         “What should we do, boss?” one of his subordinates asked.  The man hummed again before he held out his cane and placed it under Chen Yuzhi’s chin, lifting his head with it.  He then studied the young doctor for a moment before he removed the cane, watching as his head dropped limply.

         “Let’s just leave him…he’ll succumb to his injuries eventually” he mused before he turned and headed out of the warehouse, his subordinates following him as Chen Yuzhi continued to kneel there, his body aching and trembling.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, Jiang Yuelou stood in the foyer of his mansion, all of his men surrounding him.

         “Well?” he asked.  All of his men shook their heads.

         “We’ve searched everywhere, sir.  There’s no sign of Dr. Chen” they replied.  Jiang Yuelou was quiet before he grabbed a nearby vase and swept it onto the ground, glass shattering everywhere.

         “HE CANNOT HAVE JUST DISAPPEARED!  KEEP SEARCHING!” he roared.  All of his subordinates bowed.

         “Yes sir!” they replied.  They then turned and rushed out of the mansion as Jiang Yuelou growled and ran a hand through his hair, taking deep breaths to calm himself before he looked at Song Rong and Sun Yongren, who stayed behind.

         “Are you sure you searched every part of Jing City?” he demanded.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded.

         “Yes sir.  But we’ll keep searching” they promised.  Jiang Yuelou nodded.

         “Do that” he ordered.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded before they turned and headed out of the mansion, leaving Jiang Yuelou alone with the remnants of the shattered vase.  He then looked down at the vase, which seemed to represent his sanity, and sighed heavily.

         ‘I should probably clean that up’ he thought to himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, the man returned to the warehouse that Chen Yuzhi was held prisoner in and walked over to Chen Yuzhi, kneeling before him before he reached out and placed two fingers under his nose.

         “Is he still alive?” a subordinate asked.  The man hummed.

         “He is.  Amazingly” he replied before he pushed himself to his feet and turned to look at his men.

         “Break him” he ordered.  The men nodded and walked over to Chen Yuzhi before they began to beat him again with wooden bats, but Chen Yuzhi didn’t even cry or scream…he had practically fallen unconscious from the pain.  Once they had beaten him enough, one of the subordinates looked over at the man.

         “Do you want us to whip him too?” they asked.  The man looked at Chen Yuzhi before he waved his hand.

         “If he’s not screaming, it’s not fun” he declared.  The subordinates nodded and walked over to him, all of them leaving the warehouse as Chen Yuzhi knelt there, unconscious, the chains the only things keeping him upright.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, Jiang Yuelou’s men continued to search all of Jing City, asking around to see if anyone had seen Chen Yuzhi.  Of course, everyone answered no, causing them to grit their teeth in frustration.  Just where the hell was their doctor?! 

~*~*~*~*~*~

As everyone continued to look around, Song Rong and Sun Yongren decided to check out the abandoned warehouse area of Jing City, just to see if maybe Chen Yuzhi would be there.  So they searched for a while, poking their heads into different warehouses, but each time they came up empty until they came across one warehouse that had its doors wide open, causing them to raise an eyebrow in surprise.

         “Weird…most of the warehouses have their doors closed or locked, right?” Sun Yongren asked.  Song Rong nodded.

         “Yeah.  Let’s go check it out” he replied.  They then stepped inside, only to freeze when they saw the sight before them: Chen Yuzhi, beaten and whipped to hell, covered in blood and chained like a dog in the middle of the warehouse.

         “Oh my god…Dr. Chen” Sun Yongren breathed, just as Song Rong grabbed him by the arm.

         “We need to tell the boss.  Right now.  Right now, let’s go, let’s go!” he shouted before they turned and quickly ran out of the district, running back to Jiang Yuelou’s mansion before they burst inside.

         “BOSS!” they screamed, causing Jiang Yuelou to quickly come out of his study and walk over to them, looking at them in confusion.

         “What is it?” he asked.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren looked at him with wide eyes.

         “We found Dr. Chen” they declared.  Jiang Yuelou’s eyes widened before he looked at them.

         “Take me” he ordered.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded before they turned and headed out of the mansion, Jiang Yuelou following behind.  They then returned to the warehouse district, Song Rong and Sun Yongren leading Jiang Yuelou over to the warehouse where they found Chen Yuzhi.  Jiang Yuelou then stepped inside and when he saw Chen Yuzhi kneeling there, his eyes widened in horror.

         “Chen Yuzhi!” he exclaimed.  He then ran forward and knelt before him, looking him over with wide eyes before he reached up and carefully cupped his face in his hands.

         “Chen Yuzhi?  Baby?” he whispered.  Chen Yuzhi, however, didn’t answer, causing Jiang Yuelou to take a shuddering breath before he placed two fingers to the pulse point on his neck, checking to make sure that he was still alive.  When he felt a pulse, he let out a soft sigh of relief before he looked over at Sun Yongren and Song Rong.

         “Get him out of these chains!” he barked.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded before they rushed forward, beginning to pick the locks on Chen Yuzhi’s wrists while Jiang Yuelou scooted forward and rested Chen Yuzhi against him, beginning to pick the lock on the cuff that was around his neck.  Once the cuffs came loose, Chen Yuzhi slumped against Jiang Yuelou, Jiang Yuelou immediately wrapping his arms around him, only to notice that his back was shredded.

         “Yuzhi” he breathed, looking down at his husband in horror before he looked at Song Rong and Sun Yongren, both of whom were also looking at Chen Yuzhi’s back in horror.

         “Hurry up and pick the locks around his ankles” he ordered.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded, quickly getting to work on picking the locks around Chen Yuzhi’s ankles as Jiang Yuelou gently stroked Chen Yuzhi’s neck, which had been rubbed raw from the cuff.  Once the cuffs had been removed, Song Rong and Sun Yongren looked at Jiang Yuelou.

         “Sir” they murmured.  Jiang Yuelou looked back at them before he nodded and carefully scooped Chen Yuzhi into his arms, careful not to touch his shredded back as he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

         “Let’s go” he declared.

~*~*~*~*~*~

At the hospital, Jiang Yuelou, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren sat patiently in the waiting room when one of the doctors came over to them, Jiang Yuelou looking at him with wide eyes.

         “How is he?” he asked.  The doctor sighed.

         “He’ll live…but he’ll be unconscious for a while.  He took a hell of a beating…I’m quite surprised he made it” he murmured.  Sun Yongren smiled slightly.

         “That’s our Dr. Chen” he declared, causing both Jiang Yuelou and Song Rong to send him a look before Jiang Yuelou looked back at the doctor and nodded.

         “Thank you” he thanked.  The doctor nodded and walked off as Jiang Yuelou turned to look at Song Rong and Sun Yongren. 

         “I’ll stay with Yuzhi.  You two go home and get some rest” he instructed.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren frowned.

         “Are you sure?” they asked.  Jiang Yuelou nodded.

         “Yeah…I just want some time with him” he replied.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded before they pushed themselves to their feet and looked at him.

         “If you need anything, let us know” Song Rong instructed.  Jiang Yuelou nodded and waited for them to leave before he let out a heavy sigh and leaned his back, resting it on the waiting room wall.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A little while later, a nurse led Jiang Yuelou to Chen Yuzhi’s hospital room and when he stepped inside, he paused, his heart hurting at the sight of his husband covered in bandages.  He then took a deep breath before he walked over to Chen Yuzhi and sat down beside his bed, looking at him again before he reached out and took his hand in his, gently stroking the back of it with his thumb.

         “Don’t worry, darling…I’ll find who did this to you…and I’ll make them pay” he growled.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Over the next couple of days, Jiang Yuelou stayed by Chen Yuzhi’s, only leaving to go home and shower and eat whenever Song Rong or Sun Yongren came and dragged him out.  But other than that, he never left his husband’s side, refusing to miss the moment he woke up.  Then one day as Jiang Yuelou was sitting beside Chen Yuzhi’s bed, Chen Yuzhi slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times before he looked over at Jiang Yuelou.

         “J-Jiang Yuelou?” he croaked.  At his name, Jiang Yuelou’s eyes widened before he turned and looked at Chen Yuzhi with wide eyes.

         “Chen Yuzhi” he breathed before he reached up and gently cupped his face in his hand.

         “Yuzhi…oh Yuzhi” he whispered before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away and looked him in the eyes.

         “You’re alright.  Thank God” he murmured.  Chen Yuzhi smiled weakly and nodded as Jiang Yuelou shook his head.

         “Who did this?  Who hurt you like this?  Who dare?” he demanded.  Chen Yuzhi shook his head.

         “I never…saw his face.  He wore a mask that covered half of it” he replied.  Jiang Yuelou hummed.

         “Smart…” he murmured.

         “But…” Chen Yuzhi started, making Jiang Yuelou raise an eyebrow as he looked at him.

         “He did have a cane with an ivory handle.  I remember that…because he struck me in the head with it” he explained.  Jiang Yuelou’s eyes widened and he looked at the bandage covering his head before he reached up and gently touched the bandage with his fingers, humming softly.

         “Cane with an ivory handle…” he murmured, thinking for a moment before his eyes widened in realization and he let out a low growl as he looked at Chen Yuzhi.

         “I know who hurt you” he declared.  Chen Yuzhi looked at him in surprise.

         “You do?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou nodded as he pushed himself to his feet.

         “Yeah.  And I’m going to fucking kill him” he snarled.  Chen Yuzhi looked at him before he laughed weakly.

         “I expect nothing less from the Demon of Jing City” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou grinned darkly.

         “Don’t worry, darling.  I’ll get revenge for you” he promised before he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips before he pulled away and smiled at him.

         “Just get some rest.  I’ll be back in a little bit” he declared.  Chen Yuzhi smiled and nodded, watching as he made his way towards the hospital room door before he stepped out and shut the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After leaving the hospital, Jiang Yuelou headed to his mansion, where all of his men were waiting for him.

         “Let’s go” he ordered.

         “Yes sir!” they replied.  They then turned and headed out of the mansion, beginning to make their way through Jing City like a black wave of death, causing everyone around them to get the hell out of their way.  They continued through the city until they came upon another mansion, Jiang Yuelou stepping forward before he kicked in the door, causing all of the owner’s subordinates to look over at him with wide eyes as he motioned with his hand, all of his subordinates rushing inside.  The two triads then began to fight with each other, throwing punches and kicks as they attacked each other like wild animals while Jiang Yuelou calmly made his way through the mansion, shooting anyone who got in his way, until he reached upstairs.  He then slowly made his way down the hall, testing every door until he came upon one that was locked, causing him to smirk slightly.

         ‘Found you’ he thought to himself before he kicked in the door, the door slamming against the adjacent wall as he slowly stepped inside and looked over to see just the man he was looking for.

         “Boss Jiang” the man greeted.  Jiang Yuelou hummed.

         “Zhao Jingming” he replied.  The man, Zhao Jingming, looked at him before he tilted his head and pushed himself to his feet from where he was sitting at his desk, walking over to stand before him.

         “Something I can help you with?  It must be important, considering you broke down my door” he stated.  Jiang Yuelou laughed mirthlessly.

         “Well, I figured it I knocked, you wouldn’t answer.  So…I had to take a direct approach” he explained before noticed something out of the corner of his eye, causing him to turn to see a cane with an ivory handle on it resting against Zhao Jingming’s desk.

         “I didn’t realize you needed a cane” he stated as he walked over and picked up the cane, studying it.  Zhao Jingming shook his head.

         “I don’t.  It’s more for aesthetics” he explained.  Jiang Yuelou hummed as he continued to study the cane, noticing that there was something that looked like blood on the handle.  He stared at the blood for a moment, immediately knowing whose blood it was, before he looked over at Zhao Jingming.

         “It’s quite a hefty cane…bet you could whack someone real good with it” he mused.  Zhao Jingming nodded.

         “Yes…you probably  could” he agreed, just as Jiang Yuelou turn and swung, cracking him in the head with the cane, sending him to the floor with a pained cry.  As he laid there, clutching at his bleeding head, Jiang Yuelou slowly walked over to him and knelt before him, the bloody cane still in his hand.

         “Now you know how my husband felt” he hissed.  Zhao Jingming looked at him with wide eyes.

         “W-What are you…going to do to me?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou smiled darkly.

         “Oh…nothing less than what you did to him” he replied, just as Song Rong and Sun Yongren stepped into the office.

         “Boss” they greeted.  Jiang Yuelou glanced back at them before he hummed and pushed himself to his feet.

         “Good, you’re here.  Take him, please” he instructed.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded, quickly walking over to Zhao Jingming before they yanked him to his feet, Zhao Jingming struggling in their grasp.

         “Let me go!  Get off me!” he shouted before he glared at Jiang Yuelou.

         “Jiang Yuelou!  You…I’ll kill you!” he exclaimed.  Jiang Yuelou laughed before he suddenly chopped him in the neck, knocking him unconscious.

         “Oh no…I’ll be the one to kill you” he purred before he looked at Song Rong and Sun Yongren.

         “Take him to the warehouse where Yuzhi was held and chain him exactly how he was chained” he ordered.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded before they turned and headed out of the room, Zhao Jingming in between them.  Once they were gone, Jiang Yuelou looked down at the cane before he tsked and tossed it aside, heading out of the room after his subordinates.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A little while later, in the abandoned warehouse, Jiang Yuelou, Song Rong, and Sun Yongren stood before Zhao Jingming, who was chained up just like Chen Yuzhi, before Jiang Yuelou stepped forward and knelt before him, none-too-gently smacking his cheek.

         “Hey.  Hey.  Wake up” he ordered.  Zhao Jingming let out a groan before he looked at Jiang Yuelou in confusion.

         “Where am I?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou huffed as he pushed himself to his feet.

         “You should recognize this place.  It’s where you kept Chen Yuzhi prisoner and tortured him for three days” he snarled.  Zhao Jingming’s eyes widened as Jiang Yuelou looked over at Song Rong and Sun Yongren.

         “Go ahead, boys” he instructed.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded before they stepped forward, metal pipes in their hands, causing Zhao Jingming to vigorously shake his head.

         “No, no, please—” he started before he looked at Jiang Yuelou.

         “Just shoot me.  Just shoot me and get it over with” he begged.  Jiang Yuelou shook his head as he laughed.

         “Oh, no, no…you see…you hurt, no, tortured my husband.  You don’t get an easy way out.  You have to suffer just like he did…before I even consider showing you mercy” he snarled before he looked at Song Rong and Sun Yongren.

         “Go on” he ordered.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded before they began to beat Zhao Jingming with the pipes, Zhao Jing Jingming crying out in pain.  Meanwhile, Jiang Yuelou just watched, a neutral expression on his face, before he waved his hand.

         “Enough” he declared.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded, stepping back as he stepped forward, stepping under the chain before he held out his hand, Song Rong placing a whip into it.  Jiang Yuelou then took the whip and began whipping Zhao Jingming repeatedly, just like he had done to Chen Yuzhi, and once he was done, he handed the whip back to Song Rong before he walked over and knelt before Zhao Jingming again.

         “Doesn’t feel very good…does it?” he asked.  Zhao Jingming shook his head weakly, causing Jiang Yuelou to hum as he pulled his gun out of his holster and pressed it to his head.

         “And yet you thought…it was okay…to do that to my Yuzhi.  You bastard” he snarled before he pulled the trigger, blood spraying onto his face as the bullet entered Zhao Jingming’s skull.  Once Zhao Jingming was dead, Jiang Yuelou sighed and pushed himself to his feet, placing his gun back in its holster as Song Rong held out a handkerchief.

         “Boss” he stated.  Jiang Yuelou looked over at him before he reached out and took the handkerchief, wiping his face of the blood before he placed the handkerchief in his pocket.

         “I’ll get you a new one” he declared.  Song Rong waved his hand.

         “It’s fine” he assured as Sun Yongren tilted his head.

         “What are you going to do now, Boss?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou hummed.

         “Head back to the hospital” he replied before he looked back at Zhao Jingming’s body and motioned to it.

         “And do something about that please.  I don’t want the smell alerting the police” he stated.  Song Rong and Sun Yongren nodded.

         “Yes sir” they replied.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Back at the hospital, Jiang Yuelou quietly slipped into Chen Yuzhi’s room, careful not to disturb his husband, and walked over to his bed, sitting down beside it as he reached out and took Chen Yuzhi’s hand in his.

         “I got revenge for you, darling.  That bastard can never hurt you again” he declared. 

         “Hmm…good” a soft voice murmured, causing Jiang Yuelou to look at Chen Yuzhi, who was smiling sleepily at him, in surprise.

         “Yuzhi!  I thought you were sleeping” he exclaimed.  Chen Yuzhi shook his head.

         “Just resting” he replied.  Jiang Yuelou hummed before he gave his hand a squeeze. 

         “Well, you should try and get some sleep” he suggested.  Chen Yuzhi nodded before he slipped his hand out of his and reached up, gently cupping his face.

         “You should maybe go to the bathroom…there’s blood on your face” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou’s eyes widened and he quickly stood to his feet, heading to the bathroom that was in the room and looked in the mirror, noticing that Chen Yuzhi was right, there was still some remnants of blood on him.  He then tsked and quickly washed his face, making sure to scrub everything off before he wiped his face with a towel and headed back out to Chen Yuzhi’s side, sitting down again.

         “What did you do to him?” Chen Yuzhi asked.  Jiang Yuelou looked at him and smiled.

         “Oh…not much.  Just…an eye for an eye” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi’s eyes widened.

         “Yuelou…” he started when Jiang Yuelou gave him a look.

         “If he tortured you, then he gets the exact same punishment.  No exceptions” he growled.  Chen Yuzhi looked in him in the eyes before he sighed softly.

         “Thank you” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou nodded before he reached out and gently cupped his face in his hand.

         “You know I’d do anything for you” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi smiled slightly.

         “I know” he whispered.  Jiang Yuelou smiled before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his head.

         “Get some rest.  I’ll be here” he promised.  Chen Yuzhi smiled and nodded before he shut his eyes, almost immediately falling asleep as Jiang Yuelou smiled and gently caressed his cheek.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A few weeks later, after he was cleared to be released, Chen Yuzhi was once again putting files away when gentle arms wrapped around his waist, making him look over his shoulder to see Jiang Yuelou smiling fondly at him.

         “Yuelou” he greeted.

         “Zhizhi” Jiang Yuelou replied.  Chen Yuzhi smiled slightly before he turned in his arms and tilted his head.

         “What are you doing here?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou chuckled.

         “Seeing how you’re doing” he answered.  Chen Yuzhi huffed.

         “I’m fine.  Nothing even hurts anymore” he stated.  Jiang Yuelou gave him a look.

         “Yuzhi, you were severely tortured.  I know you still have to ache” he argued.  Chen Yuzhi was quiet before he shook his head.

         “It’s not so bad…” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou huffed.

         “Still.  I think you should take the rest of the day off” he declared.  Chen Yuzhi looked at him with wide eyes.

         “But—” he started when Jiang Yuelou shook his head.

         “No buts.  Either you take the rest of the day off or I’ll forcefully carry you out of here” he stated before he looked forward, a playful smile on his lips.

         “And you know I will” he whispered.  Chen Yuzhi blushed before he tsked and gently smacked him on the chest.

         “I’m not some damsel you can kidnap” he grumbled, causing Jiang Yuelou to raise an eyebrow.

         “No?” he replied before he removed his arms from around Chen Yuzhi’s waist and scooped him into his arms, spinning him around as he let out a yelp of surprise and wrapped his arms around his neck.

         “Jiang Yuelou!” he exclaimed.  Jiang Yuelou stopped spinning and looked at him, tilting his head.

         “Yes?” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi looked back at him before he tsked and gently knocked his head against his.

         “You’re terrible” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou chuckled.

         “You love me anyways” he declared.  Chen Yuzhi hummed.

         “I do.  Now put me down” he instructed.  Jiang Yuelou hummed thoughtfully.

         “Now why would I do that?  I rather like holding you like this” he teased.  Chen Yuzhi huffed.

         “Jiang Yuelou!” he exclaimed.  Jiang Yuelou laughed and nodded.

         “Alright, alright, I’ll put you down” he agreed before he carefully placed him down, Chen Yuzhi dusting himself off before he looked at him.

         “Shall we go then?  Since you’re so insistent?” he asked.  Jiang Yuelou smiled before he motioned to the door.

         “After you” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi nodded and walked over to the door, waiting for Jiang Yuelou to exit before he closed and locked the doors behind him, Jiang Yuelou’s arm immediately going around his waist.

         “Let’s go” he declared.  Chen Yuzhi hummed and nodded before both men walked away from the clinic, Jiang Yuelou’s arm warm and protective around Chen Yuzhi’s waist.  If anyone ever dared to kidnap and torture his husband again…well.  He would leave that up to your imagination.

[zerolostwalks]

❀ gardenia (secret love) — “i don’t love you any less just because no one else can see it.” for Sweet Tarts?

The day Carrie woke up to discover she now had a face had been one of the worst days of her young life. 

The former Queen had died, and everyone knew the role could not be left unfilled. The cards had been dealt and fate could be cruel. Carrie simply had the misfortune of being dealt a hand she did not want but had no power to refuse. 

Though it did not stop her from initially trying, running away into the woods determined to not be found. It didn’t last long and she was soon found by the one person she most wanted and feared to see. Of course he would be the one to find her, he had been the one to show her most of her hiding spots after all. 

The dear boy from next door who she spent much of her spare time with.

He had been the one to talk her into accepting her new role. In spite of how much grief it caused the both of them. They both knew things would only get worse for her if she pushed her luck too far.

Reluctantly Carrie agreed, vowing to never forget her friend.

As the years passed however, those without roles blended together more and more in Carrie’s mind, becoming indiscernible in ways that she never experienced before. In ways that made her truly understand why they were–she used to be—called faceless. 

The dichotomy forced in such an unpleasant way much like the rest of the rules.

Rules upon rules upon rules, nonsensical commands that barely kept the violent chaos in under any semblance of order. They all knew them, they all lived them, they rarely changed.

 ♥️ ♣️ ♦️ ♠️

Carrie eyed the dark haired young man sitting across from her at the large table usually reserved for tea. (Not that they weren’t having tea, but that wasn’t the priority of this gathering). His spring green eyes danced with mirth as he surveyed the chamber around him, fingers mindlessly rhythmically tapping on the table.

His face was distracting. He kept flexing and shifting his thick dark eyebrows. Wrinkling up his freckled upturned nose and pouty lips. Almost like he was exploring the movements for the first time. 

Which was entirely possible since it was a new face. 

It had been centuries since a new role had been created. Not since the Amusement Park had randomly appeared during one of the moves to Heart. But even then no one had batted an eye at that, it made the same amount of sense as everything else for a new territory to randomly materialize. Just another part of the game they all pretended they had any control over. 

This situation was entirely unheard of, and should not have happened. 

One of the faceless had managed the impossible and successfully created a role for himself, face and all. 

Supposedly built himself up as some prolific crime lord. Rumors spread of his and his underlings brutality their ruthlessness. This man did not fit any of it.

“How have you achieved this?” Carrie’s voice sharp with barely contained anger echoed across the chamber. Honestly, who would actively seek out a role? And of course it had fallen on her to lead the charge interrogating this imbecile. They were currently in Clover and Nightmare was of no use, sickly worm that he was. “We demand an answer.”

“Ah, well.” The man frowned at her, turning his pout to his nails as he casually inspected them. He soon recovered with a blindingly bright crooked grin and impertinent wink, a gesture he seemed particularly fond of now that he could wink.

 “We–” he gestured to his own chest and Carrie scoffed at the clear jab towards her. As if she had actively made the choice to speak like that. “–had a promise to keep.”

Those jade eyes of his bore into her with his words and Carrie barely managed to hold back her gasp. Thankfully she was quick to recover from her shock, donning her haughty aggressive mask once more. 

Not quick enough for the man in front of her to not notice. The corner of his mouth twitched and eyebrow quirked up. A move that easily could be seen as general amusement by the others in the room. Perhaps that truly was all it was. Carrie had no reason to hope otherwise.

“We find your hat most unpleasant.” Carrie said, leaning into her irritation. He grimaced, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he adjusted the dark ill fitting top hat muttering something about not his idea. She had no remorse for the woes he had brought upon himself. “Remove it or we shall have it removed for you along with the rest of your head.”

The man blanched. How would he ever survive the grim reality of what it meant to be a role holder if he reacted so violently to an empty threat.

Nightmare merely groaned. Of course Nightmare heard the emptiness of her threat, either that or he was listening inside her head again. His minute flinch told her that he in fact was. 

“Perhaps, your highness, should learn more about her new rival before ordering his execution?” Nightmare attempted to shift her attention away from himself. 

Rival? Of course his role was that of another rival because that’s what all the roles were, well most of them anyway. Endlessly trapped in territory disputes none of them could ever win. Forced to continue to fight and attack each other.

Carrie guffawed, Nightmare remained unphased by her shift in mood, while the other man looked at her quizzically. She was growing tired of this meeting Nightmare insisted on and decided to play along for the sake of ending it sooner. “Very well. Do not keep us waiting, who are you?”

The man went back to studying her, a distinctly sad edge to his gaze. If he did not remove it soon her threats would be far less empty. She did not need anyone looking at her that way. 

“Re-Reggie, you can call me Reggie.” He said, face clearly torn between emotions, though he did his best to hide them all behind a tight smile.

Her internal clockworks stuttered in spite of herself. Her mind reeled back to another time, another boy, another meeting. The same name stammered in greeting, a promise made between naive childhood friends. 

‘Someday we’ll meet again.’ He had vowed with a faded watery smile. 

Was she to believe this was the same boy? They both knew reuniting would be near impossible after she received her role but how was this any better? Why would he do this to himself when he had so much more choice before? 

Her chair loudly scraped beneath her as she sharply stood. Reggie averted his eyes, shrinking under her fiery gaze. How would he survive if he couldn’t even handle this small of an outburst?

Nightmare cleared his throat, possibly attempting to signal for her to control her thoughts. But how could she when she was staring at a face she never even knew to miss? 

“We tire of this.” She declared with a dismissive wave of her hand quickly making her exit. “Leave or lose your heads.”

 ♥️ ♣️ ♦️ ♠️

Time ticked on, the cycles and worlds shifted to accommodate Reggie and his new domain. Three more roles were created under him, equally rumored to be as unhinged and cruel as Reggie supposedly was. And much like Reggie when Carrie inevitably met them it was near impossible to believe they were the men that were meant to fill the rumors. At every Assembly, Ball, and Meeting all she ever saw was a pack of jesters who were testing their luck and dancing far too closely with death. Not that she had much room left to judge there.

Once again they were back in Heart and she was doing her best to maintain a pleasant countenance as she made the rounds of another Ball. Accompanied by her Prime Minister Nicholas greeting their guests, occasionally gracing one of the more prominent faceless with a dance. While she did struggle maintaining her temper, holding these Balls was one of the few duties of her role that she actually thoroughly enjoyed.

“Greetings, my sweet and sour Queen.” Reggie’s voice chirped from behind her after Nicholas had gone to fetch her something to drink. She barely held back her groan at the new nickname Reggie was testing, pushing it with the possessive.

“Reginald.” She greeted curtly, turning around in time to catch his scowl. His black tuxedo contrasted nicely with the red of her dress and decorations throughout the hall. She adjusted her skirts and as quietly as she could muttered. “Do remember, walls have ears.”

He hummed deep in the back of his throat, the contemplative sound would sound like an annoyed growl to anyone who didn’t know any better. “I feel I should be offended.”

“How is that?”

“Here I am a guest at another one of your ostentatious balls and I have yet to be offered a dance.”

Carrie scoffed, of course he’d continue to press his luck despite her warning. “We did not recognize you without that ridiculous headpiece of yours.”

“Unfortunately,” Reggie sounded anything but displeased, “tonight’s dress code meant I had to leave my beloved hat behind.”

“Shame. We so looked forward to burning it.”

Reggie snorted, and she had to look away to prevent her own smile. These verbal sparring matches between her and Reggie were some of her favorite dances. 

Nicholas rejoined her then, glaring at Reggie so hard that the man decided to take his leave with the smallest of bows. After which she declared she tired of all the dancing and opted to sit instead, watching Reggie as subtly as she was able, reminiscing of their last private rendez-vous. 

Months and months and months ago, he had stumbled upon her in the enormous maze of rose bushes that made up the bulk of her gardens. One of the few spots of isolation she was able to find on the Palace grounds.

It made a twisted sort of sense Reggie was still so easily capable of finding her. She should have sent him away, she should have unleashed her temper. Followed the rules of her role

She asked him to stay, and relished sharing a moment of peace with someone.

It was risky and she knew it, but she could not stop herself. 

Then she let it continue. Happily spending time with him again. Willing to risk everything for every single secret smile, every stolen hug and kiss. 

“I only wish I didn’t have to hide you.” She had lamented when last they met.

His smile was sad as he held her in his arms, his warm hand gently caressing her cheek. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to hers, “You know, I don’t love you any less just because no one else can see it, right?”

“I know.” She said nuzzling closer to him, wishing this was how they could be all the time. 

.

((Sort of based in/inspired by Alice in the Country of Clover/Hearts which is it’s own unique brand of dystopia.))

[chaos-snakeboi-journal]

Concerning The Recent Histories of Aqshy, Ghyran, and Their Hated Dawnbringer Crusades #4

Chapter Three: Perspectives on the Eve of a Twin-Tailed War

I am not as familiar with this portion of the history as I was the initial Book of Harbingers where this saga begins. I read it shortly before I departed this war, and am grateful to have found another copy during the Salvation of the Prime Dominion, to keep me staid during such a harrowing time. When I began to study these new materials, I felt ecstatic – like a true academic, feeling papers from a time that will be echoed in song, even though they were so recent on a cosmic scale. The histories of the Twin-Tailed War, told in the voices of those who fought it.

Our first missive – near as I can tell within the chronology – begins with the report of a familiar face visiting an unfamiliar (and certainly doomed) Sigmarite settlement. Lord Jerrion comes to the people of Greenwater promising to deliver them from the Shudderblight Pox that rests on their bodies and souls. How very noble. Of historical note, this document sheds some light on a mystery of the Maggotkin I'd heard whispers of in the shadows of Carngrad. It seems on the eve of his arrival in court to rise before the Varanspire as one of its guard, Maggot Lord Wolgax of the Blighted Hort faced off against Sir Jerrion “in single combat” and lost dramatically. More likely he was seized violently into the dirt by a horde of howling cannibals and ripped apart starting with his armor, but I do not doubt that this Jerrion's prowess at murder overcame Lord Wolgax's famous stoutness. After all, there was much of Wolgax to consume.

Of course Jerrion's visit to Greenwater (apparently resting on the former site of lost Cristoria, interestingly enough) is pretense, and as he unleashes his magics upon the city, those who do not fall to his cohort's claws instead fall into the sway of his madness. The man who wrote this missive is one “Captain Hazelwood”, which intrigues me – I have heard of this Captain Hazelwood, and it is said he is both ruthless and hideous, even to the enemies of Order. It is said he aided in the grand operation that built the city of Stanleigh's Mulchuarium in Mosscairn. A true foe to Chaos.

Next comes a document concerning the brave Ser Phulgoth, Harbinger of Decay. The author, Thom, describes his experience at the start of a great turning point in his life. Observing the drawing of a child and hearing her strange story, her warnings of a great horned presence at the time registered to him only as an aelf scout or perhaps a large but ordinary beast. His strange employer, Mistress Beryn, seemed far more curious.

The Shudderblight then fell upon his village in short order. In nauseating detail, he describes his home festering into nothingness in a matter of weeks, then days, then mere hours, perhaps more, perhaps less – he spent much of it catatonic. A chance – and horrifying – encounter with noble Phulgoth sees him split open and left to die...only to rise again as a hollow servant of Nurgle hours later. His ruined body served as a trap for Jerrion's forces, and though he nearly fell in combat to the mighty herald, a mighty battalion of Phulgoth's fly dragoons drove the lord and his wicked knights away. He fell in as a new member of their mad contingent, which I suppose is good enough for him.

Next is a tale of the admirable but misguided Fyreslayers and their mighty warlord Fjori. This is a letter from the warrior Volgard to a cousin in a more distant part of Aqshy, he describes assaulting a prideful fellow warrior over a mix of boasts and insults that he took personally. Their battle was immediately ended and their fury tempered by the Grimhold Exile known as Fjori, who carries the sorrow of a thousand slaughtered duardin on his shoulders.

The brutal tragedy of Fjori's tale, his tribe tortured and slaughtered in hideously cruel fashion by the Skaven, put me in a state of mind not unlike humility. When reading his words, relayed by another warrior, a warrior of a people known for their moving words, I simply cannot help be moved. This, then, is why I do not value torture. I try to limit the amount of cruelty my enterprises put out, often for no other reason than to maintain the psychological advantage. There is a myriad of reasons for this, but this chapter puts me in mind of one I know for a fact: A killer is always better than a warrior. A warrior is capable of anything; like torture, or mercy. A warrior leaves victims, and victims seek revenge. A killer simply executes a foe, then the foe beside them, and on down until no one grieves. No loose ends.

Next is...difficult to decipher as fact or fiction. It is the account of an Aqshyian anthropologist who claims to have spent months following Rabble-Rowser (who he writes as “Rabble-Rowza”, which I suppose I will have to incorporate into this document) Braggit Big-Talka, studying its habits. He documents an event in which Braggit's great swarm deep beneath Aqshy discovered a settlement near-wholly made of glass, and razed it to the ground. There they discovered that much of the glass was imported from Hammerhal Aqsha, prompting him to make a quick exit.

I am familiar with the author of this miss, a Mr. Ator Feohtan-Aquila. Formerly a doctor, he was stripped of his title and rank shortly before his execution for the paper this document is drawn from. It seems the Order of Azyr of Hammerhal-Aqsha did not at all approve of the fact that he pursued a goblin warlord for over a year, adopted valuable intelligence regarding the abomination's movements, and reported none of it to the authorities for fear of compromising his research. I regard him as a coward and a fool.

The final missive dated during the Era of the Harbingers is a highly prized one in my paperwork collection. Although minor players in the overall Era of the Harbingers, everyone knows the name Callis and Toll, and this document sheds some light on their acts in purging the corruption from Hammerhal Aqshy. This endeavor of theirs would prove critical in the ultimate outcome of their Aqshian Crusade. This letter speaks of a secret meeting in the words of an attendant to the spymaster of Hammerhal Aqshy (the attendant himself a spy for the Chaos Legionnaires).

This letter confirms the Order of Azyr's hand in the dismantling of the Shudderblight Cult, not exceptional news in and of itself...except that it implicates them in the murder of Lorenz Dominus, heir to the Dominus' seat on the Grand Conclave. I have stashed this letter in a secure place where it can later benefit the will of the Everchosen, and even now I can recall how my hands shook in anticipation to open the next great history.

[thequeendomhq]

NAME. Alder Ignus "The Errant Knight" AGE & BIRTH DATE. 279 & November 17th, 2745 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Cis Male & He/Him NATIONALITY. Iskaran SPECIES. Vuldak FACTION. Warrior's Guild ( Blademaster ) OCCUPATION. Sellsword FACE CLAIM. James McAvoy

biography

( tw: suicide, violence, abuse, blood )

The town of Skohfjell was home to the Ignus family for generations, tale told from father to son that once upon a time they had been part of nobility, tricked into ruination, but nothing to confirm these words. Tales such that made Arthos Ignus what he was: a man driven by his ego whose heart was as dark as the end of times, ruthless, violent and, unfortunately, a swordsman like no other, which helped him become captain of the townsguard. Of course that was not enough for the ambitious and selfish man, he needed more, he wanted an easy life, and more than that he wanted even more power over others. Although he couldn’t marry nobility, through his handsome appearance and his charming words he managed to lure in the daughter of a rich Merchant, Lucelia Aresio, whose naivety blinded her to the multiple signs that would eventually haunt her future.

Before marriage, Arthos was everything someone could wish for, he was strong, handsome, eloquent, charming and caring, but everything changed once the vows were made and their first son was born. Like water turning to wine, he became cold, distant, rude and even violent, and even though he never hurt her physically paradise became hell to the poor Lucelia who once dreamt of a happy family. She killed herself before Alder was ten, and the little boy was the one to find her hanging from the ceiling, swinging ever so slightly due to the wind coming from the window to the beautiful day outside but that to him was closer to a cold winter now, a scene that would remain burnt into his memory.

After his mother’s death, Alder was blamed for what she’d done to herself by his father, who desperately tried to revert the situation it had caused, her family asking questions and taking their money away from the claws of the man who they correctly believed to be at fault, leaving their legacy to be collected only by Alder himself on his sixteenth birthday. Now, having had his desired wealth and comfort stripped from him, Arthos became more violent than ever, constantly leaving his son at the brink of death every time he drank, which was almost every day, incapable of even eating properly. Rare were the days he would be able to go back to his bed to sleep, too weak to resist, too hurt to move.

Alder spent the next five years being only a punching bag to his father, incapable of defending himself. A wrong look or any word that was in a slightly different tone than what Arthos wanted would lead to punishment. It would’ve kept going if not for a call from the Lord of Skohfjell ordering Arthos to lead a few of his men outside of the town to deal with some bandits that had been terrorizing merchants. That kind of task would usually save Alder for a few weeks at best, but for some reason it took way longer than expected, and, as such, the cleaver boy could finally fully recover and take his time to go outside in search for help. Unfortunately, things weren’t as easy as they might have seemed.

Everywhere he went, people turned their backs on the young boy, and at first he didn’t understand why they all had that reaction, but soon he could see in their eyes that familiar look, something he had carried with him all these years: fear. They all knew about his father’s reputation, someone who would go out of his way to destroy those who were weaker than him, and few were the ones that could rival him in battle. Just before the boy gave up, a hooded man offered him a hand, a man by the name Errond, he trained the young Alder Ignus with a sword for the next few months, and for some that could’ve seemed like wasted effort, but it wasn’t. Some could say Alder was a prodigy with the sword, but, of course, that wouldn’t be enough to fend himself against his father, so he chose a path different from Arthos’s, instead of relying on strenght and overpowering his opponents, he focused on his dexterity, evading and parrying his enemy’s blade until he saw the opportunity to counter.

When Arthos came back from his task, Alder had already changed, there was fire in his eyes unlike before, and that wasn’t something he enjoyed, so the older Ignus decided to punish him for that, but this time the boy had a blade, so the swords had to clash before he could teach him a lesson. Perhaps it was because his father underestimated him, or maybe because his blade was corrupted by the alcohol he’d been drinking before coming home, but slicing his arm off was too easy for the younger Ignus, so he had to blink a few times before even hearing the screams of agony echoing through the streets and slowly bringing people out of their houses to see what was happening. His father tried his best to grapple him to the ground, but Alder was faster, and there went his other hand, blood painting the streets red, and in that moment he had the chance to choose, but what came to him wasn’t anger or sadness, it was apathy, so he cut that old man’s head to stop the loud noise.

Now that he had his revenge, he was ready for the punishment that, in his mind, would certainly follow his actions, but instead he was met with praise and joy from all those around him, as if celebration was the result of his father’s death. Graced with the title of The Hero of Skohfjell by the people for dethroning an evil man in power, untouchable by even the law and the Lord, he would finally be able to live his life as a normal person from that day on… Or that’s what he thought.

A few nights after that, as he was laid in bed, looking intently at the ceiling, still unable to believe he’d killed a man, a confused mix of satisfaction and guilt for being happy about that bathing his mind, he felt it. Pain throughout his whole body unlike anything he’d ever felt, as if every bone in his body was breaking and healing at the same time, his voice unable to escape his throat due to the contraction of his muscles in response to everything. He couldn’t beath, and his vision started fading slowly, as the lack of oxygen took away his consciousness. That night he dreamt of running through the streets of Skohfjell under the moonlight, feeling the wind hitting his skin as he reached great speeds, and soon he was inside the Ironwood Forest, jumping fallen trunks, the scent of nature to his nose, and as he looked around, wolves, but he wasn’t scared, it was as if he’d connected with them in a certain way.

All that faded into non-sense as he woke up in his bed, and it would’ve passed as just a dream if not for his dirty naked body as he looked at himself in the mirror. It was the beginning of a new nightmare: he’d become something else, something forbidden across all Iskaldrik, a creature of shadows, a supernatural being, a werewolf. Now he had two skins in which he resided and none in which he felt free, a man deemed hero by the people and a monster to be hunted by the light. He clinged into that mask of rightousness crafted by the citizens to hide his secret, doing his best to become the symbol of justice they made him into so to distract them from the signs of his duality. Luckily, he had the talent and soon became the very best swordsman in the town, just like his father, but unlike him Alder was kind or was it just the mask? That’s something he never really figured out until the day of his death.

What was supposed to be his second, and final, chance at freedom became his third nightmare as he suddenly came to his senses covered in the blood of the people he’d sworn to protect, his features reflected on the broken glass from the window he’d broken through, feral, savage, demonic, and in that moment his heart sunk into hopelessness as he realized what he had become: the monster which resided in his interior, creeping around in between both his forms, always there to haunt him. Maybe that ‘s what he really deserved, what he truly was. He wandered around for some time, but could never stay in the same place for long as eventually this dark side of him came out and took control of him, rendering him a mere puppet of the darkness that corroded his soul. Stories of The Hero of Skohfjell never stopped spreading throughout Iskaldrik, and every time he heard a song about himself he’d feel disgust for what he’d become.

When Iskaldrik suffered from the war that would crush it, he fled from there, becoming a citizen of the world, but it was only after meeting a certain someone that light finally fought back against the darkness he’d holed himself into, and since then he’s been trying to forgive himself while battling inside and out for a chance at redemption, maybe someday he hopes to live up to the title bestowed upon him, for now, he’s become a sellsword for anyone with a heart in the right place, helping those who need it and charging a price equivalent to what they can pay. That’s when he finally tried connecting to his wolf self to find a way to fight the urge to do evil, and that’s when he met Lor, the dire wolf he connected with and which helps him during his crisis, as he directs his feral instincts to evildoers.

personality

+ charismatic, observant, just – distant, quite, headstrong

played by zeus. gmt-3. he/him.

[fandom-junkie2020]

I Believe You

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Dustin recrutes Eddie’s girlfriend to help find him. Eddie, although relieved to see his girl, is still rattled from the strange events that unraveled.

WARNINGS: drug mentions, violence, regular stranger things stuff

Date Uploaded: 6/18/22

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Requests are open! Here are some prompts and a characters list!

“Steve, what are you–Steve could you just lift the tarp up?.” 

“Why don’t you lift the tarp if you’re so brave,” he jabbed back. 

Everyone had been looking for Eddie Munson. After the horrible events that took place at his trailer, the entire town had turned on him–rightfully so. From an outside perspective, from those who had been oblivious to Hawkins’ true terrors, it seemed as if Eddie Munson had committed the most violent murder the small town ever seen. Soon, Eddie Munson would be captured and taken into police custody. Well, that was the best case scenario if someone were to find him. There were plenty of ruthless townsfolk that weren’t just looking for Eddie. They were hunting him. Many seeked him out in hopes of taking down the man seemingly responsible for the way that Chrissy’s bones were crushed inside her body. Everyone in town was against him, except the ones who seeked out the truth. 

Y/N hadn’t been there that night. She wished she could have been there so she could have prevented this from happening. Not like she would've done anything anyways. There wasn't anything anyone could have done. At least, not in Chrissy’s case. For Chrissy, her fate was inevitable. Vecna had decided. No one could have possibly foresaw her death. For others, though, it was possible. Y/N just needed to help Dustin and his friends find Eddie.

Dustin had sought Y/N out, being Eddie’s girlfriend and all, but she was unaware of his whereabouts. She wasn’t even aware Eddie was in trouble. Despite the news stories, suspects had yet to be released. Eddie’s name was seeping into households but hadn’t yet made local news. The minute Y/N was made aware that Eddie was hiding from the whole town, she helped narrow down Eddie’s whereabouts. Eventually leading them to Reefer Rick’s. Y/N hadn’t been there often, once or twice when Eddie needed to pick up some ‘supplies’. 

“Hey, look over here,” in front of Max were dozens of candy wrappers, soda cans, and beer bottles. 

Robin peeked over her shoulder, “Maybe he heard us, got spooked, and ran.” 

“Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar!”

“I know you think you’re funny but considering everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times,” Steve continued thrusting the oar into the contents under the tarp, “personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight–” 

Before Steve could continue his dispute with Dustin, a figure shot out from under the tarp and lunged toward him. Dustin and Y/N stumbled backwards and nearly tripped over each other while Steve was pushed against the wall, broken beer bottle now centimeters from cutting into him. 

“Wait! Wait! Wait!”

“Eddie! Eddie!”

“Eddie, stop!”

Eddie had this look about him. His body language was defensive and his eyes were drilling into Steve’s skull. 

“Eddie, please!” Y/N pleaded. The second Eddie heard her voice his head snapped in her direction. Even so, he was still on the defensive. His frantic eyes whipped back to Steve then to Y/N again. “It’s me, baby. It’s Y/N,” she held her hands up as she moved slowly toward Eddie and Steve. Steve’s eyes were panicked as he looked at Eddie. The entire town was convinced he viciously murdered Chrissy and now here he was with a broken beer bottle to the neck. “That’s Steve, he isn’t going to hurt you, right, Steve?” Y/N’s voice was quiet and calming but it was noticeable that anxiety was coursing through her body. 

“Right, yeah,” Steve’s voice was much shakier.

There was a slight quiver in Y/N’s voice as she continued, “Steve, don’t you think you should drop the oar?”

The minute Steve released the oar it dropped to the floor knocking over various objects that were crammed into the shed. Eddie stiffeded and held onto Steve tighter, still not releasing him.

“He’s cool! He’s cool!” Dustin yelled.

“I’m cool, man. I’m cool.” 

Eddie’s face scrunched up, “What are you doing here?”

Y/N continued moving toward her boyfriend, “We were looking for you, Eddie. We want to help you.” 

He looked toward Y/N, his grip on Steve loosened slightly. He looked at her unsure. The two had been through so much together, yet the events of the night had proven to him that anything can happen. The impossible can become possible. Maybe once he told her the truth about what happened they could figure it out–move on. Now, it was just as probable that she would turn her back on him and he would remain broken. 

“You know Dustin, right? These are his friends. They asked me to help look for you.”

“You know Robin,” Dustin interjected, “from band. This is my friend Max. The one who never wants to play D&D.”

“Eddie, please,” Y/N spoke softly. She was almost close enough to touch him. Her arm was still reaching outward, a desperate attempt to calm him. “We’re on your side, baby. We swear.” 

“Yup we swear!.”

“Swear!”

“Swear, swear, swear!”

Eddie's face stiffened as he contemplated what his next steps were going to be.

Y/N had finally gotten close enough to touch his arm. The second she made contact, Eddie snapped away from Steve and settled himself against the same wall he’d pinned Steve to. He slowly sank down to the floor where he could sit. His eyes and expression were blank. Y/N had never seen him like this. All the life and happiness that always radiated from Eddie was now gone. She knelt down to him, placing a hand on his knee. He briefly glanced toward her then looked back to the floor. Y/N looked sadly at him then down to the broken bottle in his hand. She slowly and gently grabbed the bottle from his hand and set in on the ground. Eddie’s entire body was shaking and his now empty fists were clenched together. 

“Honey, we just wanna talk, okay? We just wanna know what happened.”

Eddie sniffled as he looked toward Y/N, who was now surrounded by Dustin and Robin, “You won’t believe me.”

“Try us,” Max said. 

He glanced at Max then back to Y/N. He was still hesitant.

Y/N reached to put a hand on his knee and started rubbing her thumb back and forth in an attempt to comfort him, “I’ll believe you.”

“She wanted something stronger than what I usually hand out. I don’t bring that stuff to school so I brought her over to my place. I went into my room to get it and when I went back into the living room she had this look on her face–this blank stare. Her eyes were glossed over and almost white. I just kept shaking her to try and get her to wake up but she didn’t. Then she just lifted up into the air and she just, like, hung there, in the air, and her bones,” Eddie struggled to continue, “uh, she–her bones started to snap. Her eyes, man, it was like there was something, like, inside her head, pulling. I-I didn’t know what to do, so I ran away. I left her there.” He looked around the room at everyones expressions. Out of everyone, Y/N looked the most surprised and scared. She wasn’t aware of everything that had happened at Hawkins. She didn’t know the truth. To her, this was crazy. It almost sounded made up. There was no way this was real, except the expression on Eddie’s face told a different story. The expressions and the way his voice pinched told the truth. Genuine fear was radiating through him.

“No we don’t think you’re crazy,” Dustin reassured Eddie. 

“Don’t bullshit me, man! I know how this sounds!”

“We aren’t bullshitting you.”

“We believe you.”

Y/N still hadn’t said she’d believed him. How could she? This was crazy–truly crazy. 

“Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little difficult to take,” Y/N and Eddie, both their faces covered with confusion. 

“Okay.”

“You know how people say Hawkins is cursed? They’re not way off. There’s another world, a world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes, it bleeds into ours.”

“Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asks.

“There are some things worse than ghosts.”

Now things were officially off the rails. Eddie and Y/N sat next to each other in the shed while the others stepped outside. They knew that something was off about Hawkins, but they never could have imagined that things were this bad. But now, they knew the truth. Everything about last summer at the mall and Will’s disappearance, all of it was laid out in front of them. To Y/N, it was still insane. There was no way that any of this was still happening. To Eddie, it was a confirmation that everything he’d seen was real. 

The two sat together, shoulders touching. Their breaths were heavy. Eddie's eyes were swollen and drooping from the lack of sleep. Y/N’s heart raced as she thought about their future. 

“I believe you,” she said, eyes not diverting from their gaze. “I never told you that.”

Eddie looked over at her. Even though she hadn’t really seen anything, it looked like she’d spent hours running just like he had. Her hair was starting to get frizzy and the makeup was starting to rub off her face. She was blinking slowly, almost as if she was trying to keep from falling asleep. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to you,” Eddie apologized.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Y/N moved her body to face him. She reached her hands up to connect with Eddie’s face. “I love you and we’re going to get through this,” she placed her forehead against his.

He let out a sigh of relief, “God, I love you so much.”

“What do you say we go catch some monsters, Eddie The Banished?”

“I’d say that if you’re ready, I’m ready.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

[queenshelby]

Me & The Devil (Part Four)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 2,111

Warning: Smut, Pregnancy Mentioned, Angst

***

After you settled down and spent some time reading the paper, your husband Oswald sat down next to you and, somewhat surprisingly, took your hand into his.

‘I know I haven’t been a very attentive husband and, for that, I apologise’ Oswald said in a calm voice.

‘Oswald, trust me, there is no need to apologise’ you said with worry. You most certainly did not want to have sex with him. Was this what he wanted though? You hoped not. Surely, he must have been spent after last night when he fucked one of your maids.

‘Don’t worry, I am not going to force myself on you. Not yet anyway’ he began to say and your eyes widened with concern. What on earth could he mean by that?

‘I want us to see the doctor in Mayfield Lane again. You need to give me a child. If you can’t do that, then I will need to find someone else who can. It is important for the success of the party for me to be seen as a leader who is family oriented. I cannot do this without you giving me a child’ Oswald explained and you swallowed harshly.

‘We tried Oswald’ you tried to reason. ‘We tried many times without success. I don’t want to go through this again’ you pointed out.

‘And we will try again and you will obey. You will take whatever drugs are necessary to give me a fucking child. Do you understand?’ he then said with a stern voice before wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing it momentarily.

He then let go of you as one of the maids entered the room and told him that he had business to attend to. Something urgent came up which he had to deal with.

***

For the next two hours you thought about what having a child with Oswald would be like. There was no way you could give him what he wanted and you most certainly were more afraid of him now than ever. Bringing a child into this loveless and violent marriage was a terrible idea and he most certainly didn’t deserve to be a father. He was cruel and ruthless.

He couldn’t force this on you. You hadn’t slept with each other for over a year and you didn’t want to start doing it again now. He disgusted you and he had hurt you every time he forced himself on you. You were glad that he had been satisfying his needs elsewhere and there was only one man who you wanted to be with and this was Tommy.

Of course, you knew it was wrong but like a bad addiction you couldn’t stay away from him. You were in love with him and you even took risks which could have gotten you caught.

Just this morning, after breakfast, you got a notice to Tommy, requesting to meet him at one of the hotels in town. You hoped that he would come but, even if he didn’t, you knew that he had feelings for you too. He hadn’t told you yet, but you could tell. You were meant for each other.

***

At around 5 o’clock that day you arrived at the Midland Hotel and Tommy was already waiting for you.

He greeted you with several passionate kisses but you knew that you needed to talk. You were concerned for your safety and what was about to be forced upon you.

You told Tommy everything and, after you told Tommy what your husband wanted from you, namely a child, he rose from his chair, walked over towards you and comforted you.

‘Don’t worry Love. I will deal with it. You won’t need to give this man a child and you won’t have to sleep with him ever again’ Tommy said while he moved slowly but deliberately behind you.

‘And how exactly will you make sure of that, huh?’ you asked a little surprised.

‘You just need to trust me, eh?’ Tommy said and you stood upright and didn't turn.

Tommy closed in on you. His warm breath heavy against the flesh of your neck as you slowly reached back over your shoulder to caress his cheek and grip his hair and neck. A dense exhalation of a sigh came from your mouth as his lips made contact.

‘I was meant to tell you last night but I didn’t. So, I will do it now, eh?’ Tommy said as he inhaled you and ran his tongue from your collar to your ear.

‘I love you Y/N and I will not let any harm come to you’ he then confirmed while tasting you. Your skin, sweet. Your hair, elegant. A hand on your hip, the other wrapped your waist; he pulled your body close into his.

The strength of his grasp, the firmness of his intention released all the hinges of your body. You were no longer a work of flesh and bone. You were a vast piece of satin flowing onto his frame. Deep and red. Slick and smooth. Feminine.

‘I love you too Tommy’ you said in turn ad you pressed against him, trying to be immersed by him. You could feel his cock filling within his pants and being compressed against your ass. Instinctively, you arched your back towards it, inviting him.

His hand found its way under your satin top. He paused, taking in the feel of your naked skin against his palm. Subtle quivers like tiny earthquakes shuddered your flesh in his hand. Your nipples rose against the fabric, anticipating his next move. He indulged you and moved to cup your breast. Taking it full into his grip. Delicately pinching one nipple, then the other.

‘I can’t believe that you aren’t wearing any undergarments’ Tommy said and you pressed back harder against his body. His teeth crimping down on your earlobe and he whispered dirty words into your ear, calling you a ‘naughty girl’ and telling you what he would do to you.

And with that, the floodgates of your pussy opened to release your pleasure in a slick torrent. You were ready. You had to feel his cock again. You needed it. Its size, its taste, its feel.

Just like last night, you wanted nothing more than this man. You recalled the pleasure he gave you and reached behind you, locating his belt as a landmark, while you charted downward to feel him.

‘I want you to fuck me Tommy…you are the man I want to be with’ you said in a low moan as you were squeezing his cock. As usual, it felt thick and firm in your hand. Solid and more than ample.

In this shared moment he didn’t need you to tell him what he already knew. He could intuit everything your mind said and what your soul wanted.

‘And I want you Love’ he said as his hand loosened the grip on your hip and his fingers walked your skirt up your thigh. Not stopping for a beat, they were now free to slide unabated under the waist of your tights. Your heart jumped and you let out yet another moan as his hand slid closer to your sex.

‘You are so fucking wet for me already, eh’ Tommy said as he felt your mound and your body ached. He could feel the smooth skin of your pussy and could make out the fine trimmed hair guiding his fingers. Luckily, you had taken the time that morning to be sure you were ready for this.

Tracing the guiding line of your fine pubic hair he found the vestibule of your pussy hot and dripping with your anticipation. A finger freely slid inside you and you moaned again.

‘Your pussy always feels so nice’ Tommy said. He loved this. You knew, and you loved sharing. He bathed his finger inside you. Withdrawing it, and with his face still over your shoulder, he took it into his mouth. Sucking all of you off, he moaned like he'd just tasted the rarest of truffles.

‘How do I taste?’ you giggled.

His deep-voiced moan vibrated his chest against your back. ‘Like gold’ he said in response.

You swelled full with delight, as did he. You could wait no longer. Reaching behind you, you found his belt. You worked it free. Unbuttoned his pants. Found his cock hard within his briefs and pulled it out. His pants fell to his knees; you work his underwear down with your other hand. Reflexively, you began stroking him. Licking your palm, you made it slip easily through your grasp. He squeezed you close to his body revealing his pleasure.

He worked your underwear down in one felled effort. Your naked ass firm against his thigh. You again licked your palm, further wetting his cock...preparing it. You looked down to your side to take in the image of his engorged prick against the side of your ass. Jacking it off, you knew that he was going to stretch and fill your pussy perfectly as usual and you couldn't wait. You took three simple steps towards a low lying coffee table inside the hotel room, leading him by his cock to follow you. There, you centered yourself on his body, bent to place one hand on the low flat top, and with the other you guided his cock right into your willing pussy.

Your head reared into the air at the feeling of him inside you once again. The noise you let out was somewhere between an orgasm and the sound of being crucified. It was as though the exquisite pain that accompanied the anticipation, the longing, the desire, and the endless flirting was being executed within your body and the resultant ecstasy boiled and steamed out of you in one rapturous cry. You wanted him so much, always.

After a while of passionate fucking, you could feel his cock throbbing inside you with every thrust, and your pussy squeezed tighter and tighter as it built its way to rhythmic euphoria. His breath caught, as did yours. You grabbed the edge of the table, supporting the force of your bodies fucking each other. Your ass ground into his cock with the cadence of your joint impending orgasms.

‘Fuck that’s it Love’ he eventually groaned as he filled you with his hot white load. His prick maximally thick inside you pulsed, pushed and filled you with it. Your pussy lit up and joined him, trembling with each orgasmic pulse, soaking him back with your cum and you knew that this was just the first orgasm you got to experience that night. There were many more to come.

Ten Days Later

Eventually, ten more days had passes and you still felt somewhat ill in the stomach.

You hadn’t seen Tommy for two days. He was in London, busy at the House of Commons and, luckily, so was your husband.

Upon his return, he had made plans for you. Plans you wouldn’t like.

He was taking you to the clinic he had been talking about and the doctor who was in charge of the fertility procedures outlined all of the options to you and your husband.

‘Now I will conduct a physical exam Mrs Mosley’ the doctor announced and you reluctantly agreed to the intrusive exam.

‘May you please step out of the room Sir’ the doctor then asked your husband but he would budge.

‘Don’t worry. I can assure you that I have seen my wife’s vagina before, although it has been a while since we had sex last’ Oswald said and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

His comment was inappropriate and disgusting but you didn’t expect anything less from your husband and, with that, you lay on the chair and spread your legs while the doctor kindly covered your lap with a towel to provide you with some privacy.

The exam took much longer than expected and, when the doctor finally withdrew the instrument, he sighed.

‘Sir, you said it has been a while since you last had sex. How long exactly has it been?’ the doctor asked.

‘This is really none of your business now, is it?’ your husband then said, causing the doctor to roll his eyes.

‘Very well then’ the doctor said with a little frustration. ‘There is nothing I can do for you Sir Oswald’ he added.

‘And why is that doctor? You are meant to be the best fertility specialist in the world’ Oswald said.

‘You don’t need me Sir. Your wife is already pregnant’ the doctor responded.

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[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mention of assassination, graphic smut, adult content, mentions of murder, pervy men in the workplace, falling for a villain, guns, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, alcohol.

Masterlist

Summary: Jackson just wants a normal life but thanks to his business, his chances were slim. but after meeting you, his chances it doesn't seem like such a long shot anymore.

A/N: Reading Jack's Villian wiki gave me the idea, and the personality section is what really set it in motion. He's more human than we thought, folks. I felt VERY inclined to write this. :)

Jack wasn't proud of his work. He never was. But he knew that once he got into the business, he could never get out. And as fate would have it, you met him on the job.

Your boss was a ruthless, lying, manipulative son of a bitch, and you just so happened to be his receptionist. You hated your job and the way your pig of a boss would always make it sickeningly obvious he was starring at your breasts when asking you to make a call. You hated him. Sometimes you would imagine ways to kill the bastard and get away with it too.

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, but actually took the initiative of hiring an assassin. That's where you came in.

It was a late Friday night, and after a long grueling day of putting up with your boss's demands, you were so happy to see the front door of your home. You couldn't wait to collapse on the couch with a glass of red wine and have a leisurely weekend.

You fiddled with your keys as you tried to find the right one. 'Why the hell did I have all those keys anyways?' you thought to yourself bitterly as you shuffled them around.

But the sound of a gun cocking from behind you made you freeze. Air caught in your throat as you tried to convince yourself you didn't just hear what you thought you heard.

"Don't let me stop you," a smooth masculine voice from behind you sneered, pressing what you presumed to be the barrel of the gun point-blank onto your back, "Unlock the door, step inside. Scream and you die."

You gave a small nod, your search for the right key more frantic now, and once you found it, your shaking hand fumbled with it before finally slipping it into the keyhole, your trembling hand opening the door, and you felt yourself get pushed inside.

The door slammed behind you, and that's when you whipped around, now face to face with your captor. The gun was still pointed at you, but the man who was holding it was what stopped you in your tracks.

If someone told you that morning that you were going to be held at gunpoint by one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life, you would have laughed in their face. But you weren't laughing now.

"What do you want?" you managed to squeak out, his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

"Well, I have a job to do, to put it plainly, and you're one of the only people that can help me complete it," he began to explain, "And you don't have a choice."

"What are you wanting from me?"

"Your boss. I want you to call him and tell him that there's something going on and he needs to swing by the office. Once he obliges, my guys who are waiting outside the building as we speak will take it from there."

"You're going to kill him?" you gasped. Sure, you considered doing it yourself, but you never thought anyone would actually try to do it.

"You don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is the gun that's pointed at you right now," he concluded, reaching for your home phone, politely holding it out for you to take.

You paused, and he raised a brow. Out of instinct, you tried to bolt past him to the front door, but when you realized it wasn't going to work, it was too late. He grabbed you violently as you thrashed in his grasp before he collapsed the two of you on the couch. He held you in one position until he felt your breathing calm, your neck in a headlock as you faced away from him, panting like an angry dog.

"Stop getting cute," he hissed next to your ear, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew his teeth were gritting.

He finally trusted you wouldn't pull anything else after he gave a harsh squeeze to your trapped throat, and he let you go, and you immediately scooted to the other side of the couch.

You felt his eyes on you, and with a sudden jerked movement, he held out what you thought was the gun, making you flinch. But with a double-take, you realized it was just the phone.

You reached out, taking it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt as if you could see something in his gaze. Something longing. Something not quite there. Reluctance.

Shaken fingers press the numbers as you click 'dial', but before you could hold it up to your ear, your captor stopped you.

"Nuh-uh. Speaker."

You nodded, pressing the speaker button before the dial tone echoed through your home. After three times, the line was suddenly picked up.

"What the hell are you doing calling at this hour?" your boss's harsh voice hissed through the phone.

"Yeah, Mr. Snider, there seems to be something happening at the office. Someone from the administration is here and demanding to see you," you tried your best to sound convincing.

"What do they fucking want?" he scorned, his tone making you flinch.

"I wish I knew, sir. They won't tell me anything," you tried to force a smile in your voice.

"Fucking useless," he grunted, making you shift uncomfortably.

"Should I tell them you're on your way?" you proposed.

"Fuck. Fine. I'll be there in 15. And hey, don't get bitchy with me, yeah? Don't forget, you work for me."

"Yes sir," you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

All the while Jack was watching your reactions. He saw how you flinched at strong tones and saddened at the insults.

The sound of the line going dead was what snapped him back to reality, your still shaking hand setting it down on the coffee table.

"Is that all you needed?" you finally spoke.

"I wish I could say yes," his words made your gaze shift to the floor in disappointment, "I need to stay here until the deed is done."

"How long will that be?"

"After I make this phone call to let the guys know the target is on his merry way, we'll wait until I get a call back. Then we can part ways and you'll never speak of it to anyone. Or else I will have no other choice but to come back and kill you."

You curled in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees as you didn't answer, the sounds of a number being dialed making you cringe.

The sudden movement of him standing up made you flinch, and for a second you thought you almost saw a look of sympathy flash through his eyes before he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Stu? Yeah. Yeah, she called. He's on his way. He'll be there in 10. Make it look believable, yeah? Clients aren't paying us for anything that looks tacky."

Jack continued his conversation on the phone as he made his way to your kitchen, still in clear view of you. A few moments later he came back, the phone now hung up, a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink," he commanded.

"I'm not thirsty,"

He suddenly set the phone down, taking one of your hands and wrapping it around the cup, "I don't want you passing out on me. Drink," he commanded again.

Now it felt as if you had no choice. You lifted the cups to your lips, gently sipping as he watched you like a hawk until all the water was down your throat.

"Good girl," he praised jokingly, setting the glass on the table.

He then sat down with you on the couch. There was a prolonged silence.

"What's your name?" you finally asked.

He turned to you and cocked a brow.

"Sorry... just trying to make conversation," with an assassin you added bitterly in your head.

He scoffed, the room going back to silence, the two of you waiting... listening.

"Jackson."

"What?" you questioned, looking at him.

"My name. It's Jackson."

"Oh," you replied, "Well, I'm (name)."

"I know," he smirked.

You mentally facepalmed. Of course he did. He was an or assassin for fuck's sake.

"Can I call you Jack?" you asked meekly.

"Seeing as you won't ever see me again, sure. I haven't been called Jack since I was a kid though."

You could tell he was trying to open up. Just a little. Besides, he was right. It wasn't like he was ever going to see you again.

"Why?"

"Rippner. It's my last name," he explained.

"Oh shit," you said in spite of it not being lady-like, "That was a dick move on your parent's part."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation unfolded. You spoke about names, childhood experiences, hell, even what your favorite ice cream flavor was. It was a careless conversation with the mentality of getting everything out there.

You almost forgot that your boss was being killed right as you spoke. You felt the man in front of you open up. He was okay with being vulnerable with you.

That was until the phone rang, Jack rushing to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

His facial expression was unreadable as you watched him. Finally, he hung up the phone, his face returning to the same cold and distant look it had the moment you two had met.

"Well, (name), this is where we part ways," he began, but before he could walk to the front entryway, you grabbed his hand.

He looked startled as he turned around, his eyes searching your face for an answer. Your move was bold. Risky. But you were willing to take it.

"Don't go." your mouth moved before you could stop it.

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn't believe it was you talking. Yet his hand was still being held tightly in yours.

"Please don't go."

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

1 Year Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

You flipped in your sleep, half awake when you realized the spot next to you was bare, the indent of the once sleepless man in his place. You sighed as you flipped back over, looking at the clock.

2:15 am.

You pulled yourself away from your kingdom of soft pillows and blankets and slipped out of bed, your feet pressing against the hardwood of your home. You left the bedroom, crept down the hallway, and when you were finally met with the living area of your home, you were met with the form of your lover.

He was hunched over on the couch, hovering over a glass of red wine that rested in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, his blue eyes no longer piercing but distant.

The creak of the floorboards under you gave your position away, the man glancing up at you, spooked.

An instant look of regret graced his beautiful features, "Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hush," you sighed, "It's warmer out here anyway," you concluded.

"Even without your mountain of blankets?" he smirked, thinking of how adorable you looked cuddled up under the mound of linen.

"The bed is always cold when you're not in it," you whined, stilling next to him as he continued to nurse his glass of red liquid.

"Sorry love," he sighed, setting down the glass before wrapping his arms around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened in on his heartbeat. It was soft and lulling as you felt your eyes begin to droop.

That was, until you felt his hard-on press up against your back. A smirk crossed your lips.

"Is this why you couldn't sleep?" you questioned, subtly rubbing up against his bulge as you heard his breath catch in his throat.

"As I said," he muttered, "Didn't want to wake you."

"You could have just said so," you sat up, giving him a passionate kiss, one hand going in his hair, the other going down to his crotch, where he let out a primal groan at the feeling of your touch.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm not really in the mood for foreplay," he stated, his hand reaching your lace panties and ripping them off, pulling you on his lap so you straddled him.

He pulled his boxers down to his knees, his cock springing up. The tip was flushed and angry, pre-cum leaking from the tip, the ridges of his veins pumping.

You bit your lip as you hovered over his gorgeous cock before sinking down slowly, the both of you moaning as you become one. Not long after you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

Jack growled as he grabbed a hold of your hips, helping you as he lifted you on and off his cock, searching for solace in orgasm. His eyes locked with yours as you rode him, and in his eyes, you found nothing but love and admiration, every part of him screaming in appreciation for you.

To put it plainly, he loved the way you loved.

You felt yourself tighten, yet to your disdain, your lover found his release first, a loud groan escaping his lips as he poured himself into you, the warmth in your belly growing as you felt him let go.

By the time he was finished, he was completely blissed out, but you weren't done yet. You wanted to cum. You pulled him out of you, and he watched as his spend dripped out of your swollen mound.

Before he could ask if you were okay, you were already back on him, your thighs now straddling one of his.

"What are you doing?" he asked darkly, raising a brow.

"Shut up," you hissed, rubbing your clit on the meat of his thigh, not wanting to lose any fraction that was already built up.

He caught the hint, his hands finding your hips once again as he helped you drag your throbbing cunt against the skin of his leg. All the while, he whispered filthy things in your ear, knowing it would get you there faster.

"Look at you go. Bet you're not so tired now, eh? Humping my leg like a little bunny. Such a good girl, huh?" he coaxed in your ear, and you nodded desperately, immediately agreeing with whatever he was saying. You just wanted to cum.

Finally, you felt yourself come right up to the edge. Jack knew all your body language perfectly, smirking at you as he began to speak.

"Come on, cum for me, baby. Let me watch you cum,"

And you did. Oh, you did. Your ears rang as your eyes shut tight, feeling your body tense and shake as you let your orgasm sweep you away.

Jack helped you ride through it, his words of praise now seeping into your brain.

"Good girl, there you go," he crooned as you began to catch your breath.

You panted as you slumped against him, hearing his heartbeat once more, matching your breathing with his. You felt him press a small kiss to the crown of your head.

"Thank you," he whispered, and all you could do was nod.

Then he began to stand, "Now come on. Let's go take a shower."

"Can I bring the wine?" you asked intently.

"Fuck it," he laughed.

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

3 Months Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

"You're doing it again,"

Jack looked up at you at the sound of your voice. He was sitting there, his hands folded and his jaw clenched, his leg bouncing up and down in anxiety as he went back to staring at the developing pregnancy test on the table.

"What?" he finally said.

"You're overthinking. I can see it in your face."

He rolled his eyes, seeming harsher than he intended. But he was nervous. In complete honesty, you were the first thing Jack had that had any semblance of normal. and after the things he's done and after the things he'd seen, normal was everything he wanted. And that's what this baby meant.

He craved normal. Life as an assassin didn't really scream domestic. But with you, everything he had ever wanted was wherever you were.

"Whatever the test reads, we'll be okay," you ensured, walking behind him and wrapping your arms around the anxious man, doing your best to calm his rapturing nerves.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath, "We'll be okay."

The timer suddenly went off, the both of you perking up, chomping at the bit to get to the test, your fingers clutching it as you looked at it.

You gasped.

Jack froze.

You bolted into his arms, test in hand, bawling like a baby.

"You're gonna be a dad, Jack! You're gonna be a dad!!" you squealed, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he held you tight.

He began to tear up, "Really?"

You pulled back and nodded, showing him the test that read positive. He took it in his hands as a means to do a double-take, looking at the two little blue lines.

Without a word, he embraced you again, holding you tighter. His voice was muffled against your shoulder. From him came a small:

"Thank you."

[katsubiatch]

Distant Shores-1

Summary: The heathens came to raid every year, stealing treasures and killing along the way. Your father was the King of Wessex and wanted to strike a deal with the heathens. The heathens and their ruthless numbers in exchange for some lands to farm, riches... and you. You are the Christian princess that is now to marry the Heathen King, a man that you're sure would rather kill you than marry you. This is going to be a miserable marriage.

A Viking!BakugouxReader fic.

Warnings: Arrange Marriage, general viking things, abusive father

They came every year, rowing to shore in their long boats with the intricately decorated dragon or serpent heads, shields of all colors decorating the sides. They would set up camp near the edges of the water, far enough to stay dry but not so far that they couldn't leave in a haste if need be. Violent in their tendencies and lacking the most simple of manners. Vulgar in their speech but carefree and happy. Men and women fighting side by side. They were tall, muscular, built like the gods they worshiped. Some with long hair that was braided back from their face, others with the sides shorn short and what was left was braided. Almost all had some sort of facial hair, minus the young ones desperately trying to grow it in, and if that was long enough it would be braided as well. Their clothing was not all together different from what you were used to. Perhaps not as ostentatious or gaudy as a he clothing around court. It was practical and useful, rather than just for show. Your father, the King of Wessex, was intrigued by these heathens as he called them. They had came ashore last year, destroying a few temples and killing all the holy men and women inside of them while stealing all the treasure inside, before taking their leave back to their homelands. It was interesting to say the least, though they had heard of these northmen before this was only the second time they had made camp on their shores. So In an effort of good faith your father decided to invite them to the castle, to talk he said. He wanted to strike a deal with them. He was going to offer a few things he thought they could not refuse. So he sent out a messenger to bring back their leaders for a feast. They spoke in a different tongue, looking at the women of court with lustful eyes as they ate. One man, who seemed to be their leader spoke up as he looked at the King. "What is it you have to offer me?" He spoke your language but it was choppy with the words out of place. You were surprised to find he knew the words at all. His hair was short on the sides, the rest braided back until it ended in a short pony tail. He had red eyes that you felt could pierce through anything or anyone. Scars littered his arms and bare chest, an axe and a sword at his hips. "Well, I am willing to offer some lands for you to do as you wish. Farm, build settlements. They are yours to do as you wish. I am also willing to offer you something more." The man said, grinning at the Viking earl. "I am offering my pure daughter, Y/N, to you." You. You were an offering. You always knew that your marriage would be arranged but you didn't think like this. To someone who had different customs, a different language, a different land someone who was different in almost every way possible. You wanted to throw up

The last thing that you thought your father was going to offer up was you. After all you were his only daughter and you figured that you would be married off to someone, a prince or lord in order for you father to gain some lands or troops for wars. Though you supposed this was kind of the same thing. The last thing that you expected was to be offered up to the Heathen King. You could feel his gaze on you, calculating red eyes watching your every move. You kept your eyes downcast, a habit from living in the castle for so long. You tried your hardest to hide the look of shock on your face, train it into a neutral expression.

"Well aren't you lucky, you get the Christian princess." One of the men next to the Heathen king spoke to him, in their language. One that you didn't understand.

"I have no need for a wife... but I could make it work. His proposition is interesting. I feel like he is going to double cross us."

The viking seemed to contemplate for a minute, hand rubbing over his chin as he looked you up and down before looking back at his men. "I will accept your offer, but I am surprised you would give up your virgin daughter to such a... heathen like myself." You could feel your face heat up at that, like they were talking about you without you even being there, despite the fact that you could feel the Vikings eyes on you the entire time.

"Well you are the man I need to make an alliance with right now." Your father stated, leaning back in his chair. "She will make a fine wife, I'm sure she can adjust to your ways." It became quite obvious to Bakugou that the king did not care about his daughter and what happened to her. He knew of the rumors that were spread about them. How they raped women and killed them when they no longer 'served their purpose.' He could tell you were scared but it seemed as though your father did not care.

"Then she will leave with us in the morning, we will be married under our Gods." Bakugou grunted, taking a long drink out of his cup, eyes never leaving your shaking frame. There was not much more that you could take, you didn't want to marry yet let alone a barbarian that you didn't even know. Someone who hardly spoke your language, who had different customs and Gods than you.

You excused yourself and made your way out of the hall, running as soon as you were out of sight. You couldn't slow your breaths, they were coming much too fast. You felt as though you were hyperventilating and needed to calm down. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe it would be okay. Once you made it to your room you had calmed down just a bit. You still did not want to marry this man. He looked cruel and would surely just have his way with you.

You sighed as you sat at your vanity, taking out the clips and pins that held your hair up in its complicated look. You supposed now you'd have to have it in the braids you saw on all the Viking women. You moved it back away from your face when you heard a knock on the door that caused your heart to race. You knew it was your father, sent to give you instructions that you didn't want to follow.

"Well, you embarrassed me out there. Running away like that, it's almost like you don't want to marry that brute." Your father hadn't waited for an answer to come in. "You have to make him happy, the last thing I want is them storming our shores because you're too stupid to please this man."

"Father I don't want to marry him. I do not know him and... and what if he kills me? You could marry me off to a prince from a neighboring land and they could offer your army to help if the viki,.." you started to say before you were struck against the cheek. The king of Wessex didn't like being told what to do, especially not by a woman.

"You will listen to what I have to say child, you will do as you are told, no questions. You will marry that brute and you will like it. Keep him pleased bed remind him of our treaty or I can send someone to remind you of your place." Your father threatened, pointing a finger in your face while you held your cheek and tears sprang out of your eyes. You had thought perhaps he had some shred of love left for you, however he just saw you as a bargaining chip.

That night you did not sleep well, tossing and turning. Dreaming about a pair of bright red eyes.

The next morning your maids had dressed your for the last time, putting you in a simple dress and cloak that wasn't too showy but was still made of fine fabrics that showed your status. A bruise had formed on your cheek from your fathers ring but that was something he didn't try to hide anymore. His daughter had a wild tongue according to him, and he needed to correct it. This wasn't the first time that he had struck you, but you were hopeful it would be the last. Unless of course your new husband was the same.

You were told you didn't need to pack anything, your husband to be would provide everything that you'd need. Least that is what they told your father. So down you went to where they were waiting, restless horses under even more restless men. They'd been giving plenty of gold and treasures to get them through the winter so they were eager to get back home. "Here she is, your future wife." The King said, presenting you to the Viking leader. You dared to look up at him, seeing the same eyes that had plagued your dreams. You watched his eyes flick around your face, lingering on your cheek before landing on your eyes. You soon looked away, not wanting to cause any new problems. It was the way you were raised, never look a man too long in the eyes. It was disrespectful. "She has some problems obeying but I am sure you can get her in line." The king winked befor pushing your towards the horse that Bakugou was on. He looked down at you before hoisting you on top of the beast to sit in front of him. Your face turned a bright pink, you'd never been this close to a man before, and his bare chest was burning into your back. You supposed that you'd have to get used to this if you were to be married soon.

Your father and future husband shared a few words with each other that you didn't pay attention to before you were off. The entire ride the few Vikings that had come along we're all talking in their own language, nothing that you understood but they seemed to be in good spirits, laughing and joking. You were lost in your own world, gently running your fingers over the horses mane before you heard the man behind you speak up. "What happened to your face?"

You weren't expecting it after how quiet he'd been for the entire ride so you jumped at the sudden noise behind you. You chewed on your cheek, deciding on an answer before landing on, "My father was correcting me. That is all." You weren't sure of the correct answer but that apparently wasn't it as you heard a grunt behind you and a small growl.

Before long you made it back to the Viking camp, which was mostly torn down at this point, bustling with activity. The boats were being packed, tents torn down and supplies being put up. You were in awe at how fast they worked, and were intrigued with the people and what they were doing. It was almost like a culture shock, you were used to the castle and this was something different. The man that was to be your husband helped you off your horse and gave you a warning to stay close. In the matter of an hour everything was packed up, you staying close to the man was he went around inspecting work and checking things before he lifted you onto a boat and climbed on himself.

The boat itself was amazing, all the little attentions to detail was beautiful, your fingers traced over the edge and the little designs there. You were again in awe, you could deal with this. If you could see little things of beauty like this then you could take it. Once set off to the sea your eyes were wide with wonder. You hadn't ever been this far before, you hadn't even been out on the water and it was breath taking. You couldn't get enough. That is... until you were sprayed in the face with the water. You coughed and shook your head, as the men on the boat laughed. You didn't complain however, you were still just in awe of the sights. What you didn't notice was a curious pair of eyes watching you from the other end of the boat, never leaving you as he watched you drink in everything. He was curious about you, that was for sure.

After getting hit with the ocean water you learned your lesson about staying too close to the edge. However as night time drew closer and the sun went below the horizon it was freezing and your cloak wasn't cutting it. However you didn't complain, instead just hugged it closer to yourself.

"It looks like your princess is going to freeze to death." One of the rowing men commented, looking over to Bakugou. "Might want to warm her up."

Bakugou heard this and in turn stood up with a grunt before walking over to you and unceremoniously dropped on of his furs onto your shoulders. You looked curiously up at him, but melted into the warmth it gave. "Thank you." You chattered out, cuddling close to the furs.

"Can't let you freeze, princess." Bakugou murmured as shuffled back over to where he came from. You watched him go and smiled softly, perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!