#seeing or being on the end of violence that makes you sick to the stomach

[mollypaup]

the struggle of wanting to play more horror games but hating survival horror

[pirateprincessblog]

outlaw

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you wish there would be a time you could call your life boring again. before all the mess, before the town fell apart, before your father disowned you. before jeong yunho. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: wild west theme, cowboy!yunho, bartender!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: praising, claiming, dacryphilia, marking, size kink, oral, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, weapons, alcohol consumption, murder, slight gore, attempted SA 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: django performance might be the reason why i switched from hongjoong to yunho after four years of being loyal. NOT PROOFREAD I AM IMPATIENT I HAD TO POST IT BEFORE GOING TO BED! <3

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"another one, sweetheart."

i'm not your sweetheart, you wanted to mutter. but you bit your tongue, remembering that your father is somewhere in the room. so you have no other choice but to approach the loud, messy table, and pour the greasy dirty man another glass of whatever alcohol you had in hand. it didn't matter anymore, as long as it filled his stomach.

"that's a good girl," he roars with laughter, heavy hand landing on your bottom and making you jolt.

your eyes seek your father, silently asking for help. but no help comes. instead, he points to a different table that demands attention, and leaves the saloon. you stand still, voices muffling around you. your neatly put bun is now falling apart, strands loose on your face and sticking due to sweat, your clothes are heavy on you, and your hands will soon start shaking if you don't take a break from all the work. from early mornings, to even earlier ones the next day, you are destined to be a servant on your own father's property. you wonder if this will last forever. pouring alcohol, dodging flying chairs and tables, taking the harassment so you can survive for another month.

if this really is your future, then what is the point of living? will he marry you off to one of these men? or will he keep you as his servant until the end of his days? you remember the day everything changed for you. you had just come back from the city, finishing the school day. barely a teen, hand in hand with your best friends. your father sat you in the empty saloon, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"you're quitting school."

just a month after you buried your mother, he told you that. there was nobody to help him, he had to fire his staff, and laid his trust into you. the business was crazy that week. who wouldn't want to come and see the owner's little daughter serving alcohol? those men congratulated your father on your birth, watched you play on the street, went to your mother's funeral and wailed with you, came to the saloon to see you struggle with bottles and glasses, only later to have their filthy hands all over you as soon as you turned eighteen. it doesn't stop, no matter how many times you ask. the pleading only makes them do it more, those sick bastards. and each one of them have a wife waiting at home, and a child comforting her.

"hey, bitch, over here!"

monday was a peaceful day. no work, not at the saloon at least. but a basket full of dirty old clothes awaits by the door, waiting to be washed. it is a cold autumn morning, the sun very low in the sky and not warming at all. you drag your feet across the field, hands red from the weight of the basket and the frost. your dress catches onto various branches and bushes, but you do not look back. you need to be done before noon, so you can make lunch for your father.

reaching the river, you drop the basket on the dying grass. a few flowers are still scattered here and there, fighting their way through the cold morning dew. as you scrub your father's shirt on the washboard, you notice just how old those clothes have gotten. you both need new ones, you cannot be walking around looking like the poorest people in town, while owning a saloon. but your father sees no value in those things. talking to him is like talking to a wall that might hit you if you say something it doesn't like. so you keep your mouth shut.

the used, thin washboard suddenly snaps under your hands, a piece of wood jamming into your skin and making you yelp. your skin being almost frozen from being in cold water, and then getting pierced, makes you finally break down. you hug your knees to your chest, and bury your head into the muddy dress. you're cold, in pain, and you miss your mother. your friends. the life you had, and the life you were supposed to have.

sometimes, you selfishly blamed your mother for dying. if she was still here, you could've had a life just like your friends. finding a job in the big city, a man too, a decent one. not this.

you hide your hands in the ruffles of your worn out dress, seeking warmth. you cannot go back home without washing the rest of the clothes, and the sun is rising faster than you want it to. noon will come by soon, and you will have two tasks unfinished. your father won't be pleased.

a distant neigh and galloping have your attention, your head curiously turning to see who it could be. your heart almost sinks when you see the speed the horses are headed at towards you, but with legs and bum frozen on the ground, you cannot move. all you can do is close your eyes in defeat, hoping for the best.

the gallop stops, now switching to a trot. you open your eyes, and see two shiny horses in front of you. the two men riding them dismount, one of them standing next to his horse and taking the leash from the other one. the taller man adjusts his hat, gaze fixed on the floor, and fastens his holster. you gulp, seeing the shiny revolver resting on his hip. then, he raises his head to finally look at you. you almost forget the potential danger of the situation once you look at his brown eyes. he is tall. very tall. and absolutely gorgeous. you look away, suddenly aware of how you look. heavens, what a perfect timing.

"oh, it's just a doe." he says, voice soft and sweet. he tilts his head, trying to get you to look at him. when you don't, he takes a step closer to you, careful not to scare you away. "came for a morning refreshment?"

you don't respond. instead, you look at the man behind him. he stands still, leashes in his hands. his clothes are a bit more rugged than the ones on the man in front of you, but it fits his image very well. then, your eyes betray you end lay on the man in front of you again. he wears a brown leather jacket with fringes, dark blue jeans, and matching brown boots. his brown hat sits perfectly on his head, giving him a mysterious look. he notices you staring, and only chuckles softly. he reaches into his saddlebag, retrieving something wrapped in a white cloth.

"hungry?"

this time, your stomach is the one that betrays you. it decides to grumble as soon as you shake your head no, making the man chuckle again.

"go on, you can have it. you look like you need it."

he holds it out for you to take, closing the distance further. you step back, remembering your father's words.

"no speaking to other men outside of the saloon. if i see you do that, i will personally declare you a whore. nobody will want to marry you, and you'll be alone for the rest of your life."

charming. the man doesn't give up, as he steps further towards you. you step back again, hunger, fear and curiosity fighting inside of you and making you sick to your stomach.

"it's alright. it's just food, i don't mean you any harm."

but he doesn't know what words ring inside your head. taking another step back, your heart almost stops once again. you have stepped into the shallow river, your body losing balance following. the handsome cowboy drops the item on the floor, and firmly grabs your waist and pulls you back to stand on the grass. you instinctively grab onto his shoulders for support, and he pulls your body into his. you breathe out when your chest collides with his, overwhelmed by the situation.

"clumsy girl," he teases.

you can't make yourself move, not only because you don't want to, but because his grip is firm on your waist. he safely moves you away from the water and removes one hand from your body, only to move the loose strands of hair from your face.

"wyatt," he calls.

the other man steps towards the two of you, not uttering a word.

"you go on. i'll catch up with you."

without protest, he gets on his horse, nods towards his companion, then gallops away. you are left alone with the ridiculously handsome cowboy, now feeling a bit warmer than a few moments ago. the man finally lets go of you, picking up the cloth from the ground. a distant thunder surprises you, and you look over at the scattered clothes. the black clouds over the mountains are covering the blue sky quite fast, and it just seems at this moment that everything is working against you.

you hurriedly collect the remaining dirty clothes, crouching down and brushing it against the half of the washboard as best as you can. your hand is in pain, still dripping red, but your father's consequences are more painful. you'd rather have a hundred more splinters ripping your skin than your father slapping you across the face like he is used to.

the man lets you finish, turning his attention to the horse. in the corner of your eye, you see him caressing the horse's mane. the animal leans into his hand, enjoying the comfort of his warm and caring touch. he looks so tough, yet his actions are a complete opposite.

"if you're done staring, you can join me."

caught red handed, and red cheeked, you turn around to see him sat under the nearby tree, opening the white cloth. he sets it on the ground near him, and folds his arms across his chest. you pick up the now clean clothes, the broken washboard forgotten and floating somewhere further down the field. you sit next to him, the food serving as an imaginary border. he takes his hat off, putting it over his face and rests his head against the tree.

"if you're embarrassed to eat in front of me. now i won't look. eat. please."

and you do. you take a bite of the biscuit, enjoying it like it's your first one ever. you take the chance now that he doesn't see anything to properly look around. his horse is gorgeous, white with brown legs and head. you then look at its owner, still chewing on the biscuit. the more you look at him, the more your stomach feels all fuzzy. is this what it feels like to be attracted to a man? are you finally experiencing a crush?

you should really get home.

thunder grumbles again, causing the horse to become restless.

"shh, you're good." the cowboy says soothingly, not moving from his spot. and the horse listens.

it soothes you too, because you lean against the tree like him, and silently eat. your breathing matches his, and for a moment, you think that he has fallen asleep. until you start feeling drops of rain on your head. you don't say anything. you don't really need to, because the man interrupts his short break by standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. you take it, your hand melting into his as he helps you up. his touch is secure, and gentle. nobody has ever held you this way, and you are afraid you might get used to it. he leads you to his horse, throwing his spare jacket your way.

"i'll take you home."

"no!"

the cowboy scrunches his eyebrows, and abruptly turns towards you. his hand doesn't leave yours, no matter how hard you pull. "she speaks." he says, as if he made an important discovery.

you shake your head frantically, repeating yourself. "no, you can't."

"why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"because."

"that's not a valid answer, sunshine."

if your stomach wasn't turning from the difficult situation you have found yourself in, it would turn from the simple nickname coming from his mouth. you aren't quite sure whether you're feeling nervous because of your father, or because of the handsome stranger. you remember that he is just a stranger, no matter in how much awe he has you. if you get on his horse, he could take you anywhere. but if you don't get on his horse, he could simply tie you up and take you with him anyway.

fuck.

"i like to walk." you blurt out, grabbing the basket of clothes and holding it in front of you, as if shielding yourself from him.

"lies."

"please, just leave me alone. thank you for the food, and for, well, not letting me fall into the water, but-"

"does he beat you every day?"

he says it with a tone so serious it has your blood going cold in your veins. his gaze becomes stone cold, dark, and it pierces right through you. seeing your distressed face, he steps towards you again, moving your hair away from your neck. the bruise you thought you so cleverly hid now uncovered in front of him. funny how a potentially dangerous stranger shows more interest in it than the town.

"or only when you do something wrong?"

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it isn't. however, if you want it to stop, you might have to make it my business."

you wish for nothing more than for it to stop. but exactly how does this man plan to make it his business? talk to your father? teach him a lesson? or the worst?

"i'll tell you what. i'll bring you just to the hill so nobody sees us, and you think about what i said until then."

you nod, defeated. you really need to get home as quick as possible and get started on the lunch. the cowboy helps you up on the horse, then climbs behind you. this is the closest you've ever been to a man, and if you weren't sneakily reading those short romance stories in the back of the discarded newspaper, you would think that you are becoming ill by how hot your cheeks feel. when he grabs the leash, also helping you hold the basket in the process, you take your time to admire his hands. pretty pale fingers, slightly muddy from maybe hours or days of riding. he smells of whiskey, vanilla and a hint of tobacco. you allow yourself a moment of weakness, closing your eyes and inhaling the scent. it doesn't help the way his warm chest and torso are pressed against your back, rubbing against you with each horses gallop.

when you open your eyes, you are disappointed to see the hill. it means that the short little adventure with the mystery cowboy has come to an end, and that you might never see him again. it's all up to you. and you hate that.

he helps you down, then fixes the ruffles of your dress that were slightly turned upwards from riding while you are occupied with the clothes in the basket.

"well?" he finally says, seeing that you have no intention of speaking first.

"i'll be fine." you lie.

you almost miss the way he bites the inside of his cheek from disappointment. almost. he nods, understandingly, and approaches you. for the last time, maybe. he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the place where your splinter is. "take care of that. wouldn't want such pretty hands to be in pain or have a scar."

he kisses the back of it, eyes not once leaving yours. you almost shiver, from the cold and from his touch.

"thank you for your company, dove. we must part ways now, but i do hope i see you again one day. you are too pretty to forget."

he takes his hat off to say his goodbye, then climbs back on his horse. with a sweet smile and a nod, he gallops away. you stand there and watch, heart swelling with sadness. you watch and watch, until he becomes just a small little dot in the distance.

weeks pass, and your life dynamic does not change. you still serve drunk perverts, avoid sexual offers, cook, and freeze yourself by the river. only now, you wake up earlier than usual, and keep looking at your surroundings in hopes of seeing a familiar brown hat. but you never see it. it's been almost two months, and not a single sign from him. maybe for the best. he did look like bad news. very handsome bad news.

you currently sit in a dark corner in the saloon, reading last weeks newspaper for the romance update on the last page. the appearance of the main character morphs into the cowboy in your head. no longer short, blonde haired with blue eyes and bulk figure, but dark haired with a short mullet, with brown eyes and a slender figure. you didn't even catch his name, yet you shamelessly daydream about him.

the doors of the saloon aggressively swing, startling you and breaking your bubble. you turn the newspaper upside down, hiding your little secret. a young man, known as denver, stands at the entrance, face pure horror. your father approaches him, putting his hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

"what's wrong, boy?"

denver barely gets his sentence out, before countless gallops are heard outside, accompanied with various screams. "he's here."

"who is?"

"the stallion."

you have never seen your father scared. and that scared you even more. he took a step back, abandoning the young man. the saloon became a mess, everyone pushing each other on the way to the exit, but suddenly coming to a halt. you stand up, taking your place behind the bar. the people are stepping back, slowly, still facing towards the doors. they separate in two groups, making way for the intruder. and when your eyes land on the intruder, you swear your heart could jump right on the bar in front of you.

your cowboy, your mystery man, the man you prayed you'd see again, stands in your saloon. drenched in blood and dust, sweaty, and with a revolver in his hand. the look on his face when he sees you tells you that you weren't meant to see him in this state. but he doesn't say anything. instead, he approaches the bar, along with his companions. they are all a mess, but not as much as him.

"good day, darling."

your stomach twists again, and you have to fight the urge to smile. you can't smile, not when everyone around you is terrified. you clear your throat, collecting any stray thoughts before speaking. "good day, sir."

"two rooms. and two bottles of whiskey waiting for me tonight." he says, a sweet smile on his lips.

"uh, yes-"

"there are no rooms available for you." your father interrupts, making his way to the bar.

the cowboy raises his eyebrow, then looks at your father. "oh?"

"yes. so i'm afraid you'll have to call it a day here."

the young man chuckles, eyes returning to your face. he throws a roll of money on the counter, then pushes is towards your father with his stained revolver. "don't be afraid, we won't."

you feel caged by his gaze, afraid to even move. why are you here, you wanted to ask. and why do you look like that. his clothes might look different, but the look on his face when he looks at you stays the same. in the corner of your eye, you notice someone trying to exit sneakily. but the cowboy also seems to catch it, because he points his trusted weapon toward the ceiling and-

"argh!" the woman screams, pure fear painted on her face.

"nobody leaves, until i get two fucking rooms and two bottles of whiskey. have i made myself clear?" he slams the revolver on the counter, causing you to jolt and step back. "now, if your pretty little daughter said that i can have them, just why the fuck are you meddling?"

defeated, your father takes the money, then nods your way. "show them."

alone?, you wanted to ask. but your tongue feels swollen, and your jaw heavy. you don't say anything. instead, you look at the fearsome cowboy, then proceed upstairs. the three of them follow, not uttering a word. you reach the rooms, opening the doors for them to see. the cowboy nods towards the room, sending them a signal to go in. when the two finally close the door, the dark haired man wastes no time in softly pinning you against the wall, just between the two doors.

"there, there. are you that scared of me, sunshine?"

you swear your eyes couldn't get any wider, and you hate it. you must look like a freak to him. but if you do, he doesn't show any disgust. he removes your hair from your neck once again, letting it fall down your back. his knuckles caress the now yellow spot on the neck, the bruise slowly healing.

his eyes shift from the bruise to your eyes, his gaze softening. "not excited to see me?"

you gulp, figuring which words to use. you are, and you are not. you don't even know.

"that's okay."

his other hand find its spot on the back of your head, slightly tilting it so that the injured side of the neck is more exposed. you feel his warm breath against your skin, growing hotter and closer. you finally let out a noise, it being a whimper rather than a proper word or sentence. soft lips graze your skin, before his tongue delicately swipes across your bruise. your stomach has never felt fuzzier, and your head is in the clouds. all those butterflies you felt while reading the newspaper have now turned into a volcano, waiting to erupt any second. the cowboy continues giving attention to your now sensitive neck, having you tremble in his arms.

he notices, putting his other hand on your waist and pushing you further into the wall, silently ordering you to stay still. he leans his own body into you, warm sensation enveloping you and causing you to moan into his ear.

realizing your horrible mistake, your hands quickly find their way to his firm chest, in an attempt to push him away. but instead, your fingers grip the fabric of his ruined leather jacket, and your head falls completely in his control. his hand massages your scalp, all while his tongue never leaves you. he switches from tender kisses, to kitten licks, and if he doesn't stop soon, you might just drip all over the floor and his shoes. 

as if he heard you, he delivers one final kiss, before he pulls away. "i'll see you downstairs at dinner. thank you for the room, dove. and for the lunch."

hearing the door slam shut, you can finally breathe normally. you are left to tremble against the wall, your neck and underwear wet, all because of him. you rush to one of the empty rooms, at the end of the hallway. you lock it, then toss yourself on the bed. you waste no time in flipping your dress over, your fingers finding the soft folds between your legs. you gasp, more at the state of it than the feeling. you are soaked, your fingers almost slipping from your folds.

you spend a worrying amount of time trying to please yourself somehow, but the buildup is just growing and growing, not giving any signs of erupting soon. no matter how much you picture your handsome cowboy, just a few doors away.

and you don't even know his name.

"did he touch you?"

"what?!"

"i'm serious. did he do anything to you?"

"father-" since when do you care? "he didn't!"

he continues to follow you while you serve the guests, asking questions and demanding to know the truth. "did he say anything?"

"like?"

"anything."

"he asked for a prostitute and i said i'm available tonight."

smack.

nobody turns, already used to your father's free will. you bite the inside of your now stinging hot  cheek, wishing for nothing more than to hit him with the bottle of gin you had in your hand.

"fucking slut. just like your mother. give me that." he yanks the tray from your hands, causing two glasses to fall and shatter. "pick that up, and go to the stables."

"but it's dinner time-"

"judith will help me. go. now."

not only do you end up not eating yourself, but you don't see the man whose lips you're still feeling on you. maybe that's why your father told you to leave, just so you don't see him. is it possible that he knows today isn't the first time you see the cowboy?

you search for his horse, the one you thought was the prettiest one you've seen. but it's not in the stable.

"it got shot. he had to put her down." slowly getting used to sudden intrusions, you turn around. one of his companions sit on a block of hay.

"oh." is all you manage to say.

"a shame, really. especially because she was a present from his wife."

"what?" you turn around, the bucket of carrots falling from your hands.

"ah, he didn't tell you? why would he. he wouldn't be able to get into your pants if you knew he was married. haven't you noticed something shiny on his finger?"

no, no you haven't. because you were so mesmerized by his face and behavior you didn't question whether he has someone waiting for him at home. besides, a married man wouldn't... touch you the way he did?

"ah, poor thing. you thought he had a thing for you? you don't compare to his wife. he's an outlaw after all, our yunho. his wife is a perfect match for him, almost a female version of him. did you know that the bounty on her head is higher than his?"

you feel like you could throw up. from multiple reasons. you let a married man touch you. hell, you touched yourself to a married man. not just an ordinary man, but an outlaw? what if his wife finds out? is she really that dangerous? will you be next on her victim list? not able to contain the emotions any longer, you run to the corner, bending over the blocks of hay and puking on the floor.

"ah, there, there. i'm quite surprised, that was the calmest reaction yet. other women tend to jump at his throat immediately."

other women? the ground sways under your feet, threatening to crumble and swallow you.

"since you're not in a state to speak, i'll answer all the questions in your head. have a seat, please."

you finally take a good look at the man once you sit down, seeing him stand up in front of you. he's no less handsome than the cowboy, yunho, and he is older. but the somewhat evil smirk on his face is off putting. you hold the now empty bucket in your lap, carrots laying on the ground for the horses to feast on. just in case you feel sick again.

"see, while yunho does love his dear wife, she can be a bit of a handful for him. too... dominant for him, one could say. so he seeks submissiveness in other women, just like you. women who are the opposite to lori, women who are, well, nothing. much like you."

his words shoot at your heart, and you know he is right. it just feels disappointing to hear it out loud. were you really a nothing?

"he sleeps with them and whatever, and kindly robs them while they sleep from exhaustion. the rest of us do the same with others, not to worry. it's rude to exclude, don't you think? you know, you should really pay more attention to that notice board next to your house. my head is the third one from the left, right under the mighty stallion."

"why would you tell me this? what's in it for you?"

"my, you speak! what's in it for me? nothing, if i'm being honest. i just happen to be aware of the treatment your father gives you, and i guess the years are starting to catch up to me. i think i feel pity."

"you're going to ask for something in return, aren't you?"

"clever girl, you are." he crouches in front of you, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. "give me what you wanted to give yunho."

"i didn't want to-"

"you think i'm dumb? like you? i know that if he had only asked you, you would've jumped in his bed right away. therefore, i tell you, give me what i ask."

"no."

the older man scoffs, then stands up again. his hand remains on your cheek, but his thumb stops caressing it. he removes it, only to bring it back with a slap. losing balance, you fall on the ground. the man doesn't give you any time to process what just happened, grabbing you by your shoulders and throwing you on the pile of hay. you open your mouth, letting out a scream that gets cut off by his lips on your mouth. they feel greasy, reeking of onion and beef, not remotely close to yunho's.

your hands are trapped above your head, his hand holding it in place while his other one struggles with the layers of your dress and apron. you kick, as fast and hard as you can, but you only manage to piss him off. he pulls away, only to spit in your face.

"i bet you wouldn't give yunho a hard time like this. why do all women have to be so difficult? all i want to do is make you feel good, baby."

tears stream down your face, words stuck in your throat. even though nothing is blocking your mouth anymore, you don't speak.

"you know, if you just let me... i'd get rid of your father for good. i could take you with me, i'd make you feel good any time you ask. i could-"

his words are left hanging in the air, and you feel hot liquid splash over your face. the shooting noise catches up to you right after the man's body falls on you, lifeless. you finally scream, lungs hurting from the amount of it. your hands fly to your face, wiping off the liquid and staring at it. red drips down your hands, onto your neck, pure terror filling your body as you realize you have someone's remains all over you. short and fast breaths leave your mouth, chest compressed under his heavy figure. it is not until another figure pulls him off you, and puts his hand over your mouth with hushing noises.

"it's alright, love." you recognize the voice as wyatt's, who then helps you up. "hey, you're fine."

you're not. you do not know who to trust. then again, when you don't trust your own father, why bother?

"let's get you washed."

after splashing your face with cold water and wiping it with his handkerchief, wyatt helps you to the back entrance of the saloon, then goes back to the stables. probably to finish the business.

you find yourself laying in the guest bed again, only this time, the sheets aren't wet from arousal, but from tears. you spend at least two hours, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling . you feel dirty, still feeling his dirty hands all over you. your fingers hesitantly touch your face, afraid that you'll stain them red again. your dress and apron still have droplets of now brown liquid. is this what yunho does? is that why he looked the way he did when he entered the saloon? only the blood on his clothes was still red, still very fresh.

if what the dead man said was true, then you best stay out of the cowboy's way. and just like that, your secret little romance story has turned into a horror one.

the next few days, you don't see yunho much. you see the prostitutes coming down from the top floor, sometimes two or three of them at a time. and you are disgusted. you only see him at breakfast, from afar, and he doesn't show much interest in approaching you. his companions surround him, making the frown on his face bigger every day. were they discussing the strategy of robbing the town? was there something in their way?

for a split second, the man catches your gaze. his eyes soften, and you swear you could see a faint smile on his lips. but you couldn't return it. not when you know the intentions behind it. the soft look is replaced by confusion, which grows even bigger when you only spare him an ice cold glance and move on with your work.

saturday evening, the saloon is full. it is foggy, reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, and is loud. you don't see him or his crew yet, and you are thankful for it. at least one evening of peace. so far.

"it's kind of disappointing, you know? i mean, the sex is amazing. well, you know. you had him yesterday. but it's so sad that the town fears him and wants him dead. wouldn't mind having a piece of that every day. my body is burning, and it's been two days, but i still want more."

"i know, right? what a shame. i wish he'd stick around longer. i don't know about you, but i love that thrill of knowing that he's an outlaw. a wanted man, a gorgeous wanted man, having his way with me? i don't think anything will top that. i mean, did you see his-"

"another drink?" you interrupt, not able to listen anymore.

they giggle among each other before handing you the downed glasses. the saloon quiets down when they hear thuds coming from the stairs. you regret looking up, eyes immediately locking with familiar brown ones. everyone seems to watch their step, ready to get up and free a table if yunho desires it. oh, the amount of power he holds. that isn't supposed to make you feel some type of way. you're supposed to hate him.

but how, when he approaches you so politely, tucking that loose piece of hair that's been bothering you all evening behind your ear. such a simple gesture, which awakes the oceans in you, and probably means nothing to him. just a foreplay, before he finally cages you and fulfills his plans.

slowly, but surely, the music goes on. the people are relaxed once they see yunho doesn't have any thirst for blood tonight.

"gin."

"right away."

the night goes on, with you tending to everyone. and the cowboy follows you with his eyes, so much that the two women at the bar near him start throwing themselves at him just to get his attention.

"say, when are we going to have fun again?"

"yeah, stallion. did you forget us already?"

yunho chuckles, seeing you approach the other side of the bar and mouth their words with a mocking face. you hear him, raising your head enough to look at him. caught red handed, you only awkwardly press your lips in a thin line, continuing to wash the dirty glasses.

"you were never really ones to remember," yunho simply says, bringing the glass to his lips and downing the drink in one go.

he stands up, not sparing the women a glance even after they audibly gasp and start murmuring among each other. he approaches your father, saying something into his ear, then looks at you once again before disappearing upstairs.

"here," a clean washcloth lands on the bar counter by the end of the night.

"what?"

"that cowboy, stallion. he needs a bath."

"so? he can get his own washcloths. why do i need to- oh."

"yeah, oh. we haven't had a single man in a while, so there was no need for edith. now you can go fill her position."

great.

you knock on the door, and use the other hand to fix your hair before you hear him say come in. you do as told, two washcloths secure in your hand as you go deeper in the room. it takes everything in you to stand still not collapse from the sight. his clothes are carelessly dumped on the floor, and he lays still in the wooden basin filled with water. the place is steamy, the fireplace keeping the winter cold away. yunho has his arms hanging from the basin, and his head resting against the edge. the steam has caused his hair to stick to his face, which was shiny. droplets of sweat roll down his neck and into the water, and you think that is the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

he is so manly, so handsome, and so...

"you gonna stand there and watch while i slowly cook myself into a stew here?"

he is fresh shaven, that is the first thing you notice when you approach him. he lazily opens his eyes, the hot water having relaxed his muscles a bit more than he wanted to. "right, sorry."

you wet one washcloth, then wrap it around a bar of soap. you haven't done this since... ever. yes, you helped wash your sick cousin. but she was sick, and it was different. this? having a whole man naked right in front of you, and you were supposed to touch him?

"go on. i don't bite. not unless you want to."

"i really don't." you murmur, finally pressing the soap against his hot skin.

you exhale, your heart threatening to escape from your chest and jump into the basin with the cowboy. a thin layer of fabric is all that is in the way of you finally feeling him the way you wanted. a fabric that could so easily just slip from your fingers, and you accidentally touch him. and he likes it. and he acts on it. and-

"i see you breaking your back down there. every day. with your father, with all those perverts, with all those jealous women. you deserve better. my offer still stands, you know?"

"i'm fine," you say, just like last time.

"give yourself some time to think."

the next half hour is quiet. peaceful sounds of the wood cracking, water dripping, and yunho's calm breathing. his eyes are locked on you, and you are sweating as much as him, only for different reasons. you fear that he can read your mind, figure out just how naughty the images in your head are getting. but when it gets to a certain point, you are reminded of that night, and you stop. that bastard has stolen your first kiss, and almost stole your first time. if anything, you are thankful that yunho has brought wyatt with him.

"uh... can you sit up straight?"

yunho raises an eyebrow, amused. you clear your throat when he doesn't move, looking around before finally figuring it out.

"could you sit up straight, sir? please?"

"right away, darling."

he does as asked, exposing his back to you. heavens, you want to- you want to- you don't even know what you want. there he sits, a whole meal right in front of you, and all you can do is breathe heavily and act all clumsy. you rub the soap on his back, gently massaging him and feeling every line on his body.

"you missed a spot."

"huh?"

"right here." his warm hand takes your wrist, guiding you towards his chest once again. your hand rests over his beating heart, and if you weren't so foolishly focused on seeing what the missed spot was, you would've seen the look on his face that is yelling to kiss him.

"oh, sorry."

he doesn't get angry. instead, he chuckles fondly. you are so delicate and innocent, it hurts him. too mesmerized by your focused face, he doesn't notice that your hand is traveling to his stomach. he jolts, hand clasping your wrist so tight that it has you whimper. you seem to have found a sensitive spot, not only to the body, but to the mind and heart. the look on his face shifts from a soft to an angry one, and you take it as your cue to step back.

"that's all. you can go." he mutters, looking away from you.

"but-"

"i'll finish up. go."

coming back to the stables, it takes a lot of energy. you first go during the day, with jongho. he knew, wyatt told him. the rest only knew that wyatt and the man got into a fight and wyatt had to shoot him. jongho is understanding, kind, and doesn't seem to share any of the qualities that the dead man had given them. not only is he not interested in doing any harm to the town and its people, but he is rather helpful.

yunho, again, is nowhere to be seen. you hesitate to ask. you don't know what you did wrong, but you pray that the night isn't your last encounter with him.

you stand in front of the stables, memories flooding your brain once you see the hay blocks. they have been rearranged, some destroyed, possibly by jongho or wyatt. the horses are sitting together in the corner, enjoying the warmth of each other during the first snowy day.

"i can't do it." 

"that's alright. i won't force you. i just don't want one sick man to keep haunting you even when he's no longer here."

"i need time."

jongho only smiles reassuringly, patting your shoulder. he's nice, why doesn't your stomach toss and turn when you see him the way it does when you see yunho?

"i still wonder what he told you about yunho. your behaviour towards him isn't at all like he described it."

"what, he spoke to you about me?"

wyatt subtly kicks his knee from the side, ordering him to stop. but jongho feels rather mischievous today, and is growing annoyed of his leader. they were supposed to move on days ago, not behave like tourists.

"you first. i want to know why you despise him. well, except obvious reasons." the young man turns around, pointing at their companions scattered in the main street, keeping people away and scared.

you sit on the bench in front of the stable, running your hands through your already messy hair before finding the right words to say. "is he married?"

the two men look at each other, their faces not giving you much of an answer. they are extremely good at masking their emotions. wyatt sighs, sitting down to your right. "yes. and no."

"what do you mean? yes or no?"

"well, it's complicated." jongho says, sitting to your left.

"it's also not our story to tell," wyatt adds, looking over at jongho with a warning look, "yunho is the one that should be telling you."

you scoff, making both men look at you in confusion. "does it matter? he'll just sleep with me, you all will do your part of the job, and then you'll leave. i should do it as soon as possible, for both of our sakes. i imagine you can't wait to leave this town, just like we can't wait for you to leave."

"listen, if yunho wanted to harm you, he would. we never stay in one place longer than three days. we've been here far longer, as you can see. i don't know the reason yet, but i know he doesn't mean any harm. did he have a change of heart? doubt it. will he continue his crimes? i don't doubt that. is there something holding him here? yes, yes there is. i might have a guess, but-"

"jongho. shut the fuck up."

"i wasn't going to tell her, wyatt, relax."

the two men bicker over you, random words and sentences traveling to your ears and overstimulating your brain. you start feeling dizzy, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. you stand up and march down the street, leaving the two men to feel bad on the bench.

the next time you go to the stables, it is night again. and it is because your father throws a glass at you. it hits the wall right next to you, breaking, shards flying into your skin. you have nowhere to go, yunho's companions basically running the town by now. you don't need one of them to get a hold of you again. you sit on the new pile of hay, far in the corner. sobbing, pulling at your hair, cursing yourself.

how wise would it be to actually take his offer? would you be able to survive on your own? or would every single man in town finally be happy that you're all alone, unprotected, and out of someone's cage.

it hurts to even think about it, and it causes you to sob even more. your chest hurts, and after what seems like hours of crying, you aren't sure if it's from physical or emotional pain.

the animals seem to feel sorry for you, because soon enough two horses find their comfort in the hay right next to you, shielding your figure from the outside world. you can't help but laugh at the bigger one, his head pushing into your lap and demanding attention.

"aren't you cute?"

your fingers gently caress its neck, lulling it to sleep. it seems like the whole stable was affected, because soon enough they all start laying down one by one, calling it an early night and pulling you to sleep with them. funny how you got way more peace and affection from animals than your own family.

"moonshine."

click. click. click.

"come on, girl."

the warm surface you were laying on moves, following the mouth clicking noises and leaving your head to rest on the hay. you're still asleep, not aware that someone else has joined you in the stable. but the other person isn't aware that you're there either.

"there's my good girl," the man pets the black stallion, which lives up to its name and stands under the moonlight, in its full glory and shine. "aren't you beautiful?"

your eyes peel open, the voice slowly waking you up. you hear crunching, and a bucket rattling. when you finally open your eyes, you see the outline of the familiar figure at the entrance. it is not yet morning, that you figure out by the darkness that has swallowed the place. the only light being the gas lantern hanging from the saloons entrance, you don't see much. but you recognize that hat and figure anywhere.

"i wish you could speak, my pretty moonshine. you'd tell me why blood was spilled, and why my pretty girl won't lay her eyes on me anymore."

his...? his pretty girl? you don't move a muscle, hoping to hear more. the mare only points its head towards the bucket, demanding more food. yunho chuckles, reaching for another apple.

"do you think i scared her away? i made sure she knows i don't mean any harm to her. did someone fill her pretty head with something?"

the mare lets out a noise, as if wanting to confirm. yunho exhales, then sets the bucket aside. he goes further into the stable, walking just past you and grabs the saddle from the corner. going back, his boot gets caught in your dress, and causes him to halt. you shut your eyes, pretending to still sleep.

"heavens." he exhales.

you feel him get closer to you, and almost betray yourself when you feel his knuckles caress your face.

"darling?"

his voice is usually low and pleasant, but hearing him whisper is just something else. why does he have to be so perfect, yet so dangerous?

you stretch, pretending to not notice him yet. finally opening your eyes, you fake a gasp. you lean back into the hay, trying to keep a distance from him. he crouches in front of you, fixing his hat. you can't get over how well it suits him.

"had a good nap?"

"well, yes. had." you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

"that's no place to sleep, dove."

"it's the only place that gives me comfort right now."

he nods, understandingly. he offers you his hand to take, and you only look at him, puzzled.

"i'll take you to a place that will give you more comfort."

"i'm not sure-"

"that wasn't a question." the tone is serious, but the wink he gives you after it relaxes you.

the cowboy stands up, making his way to his mare. you stand up, dusting off your dress and following him. he puts the saddle on the horse, securing it, then offers you his hand again. this time you take it, not yet sure what he had in mind.

"go on, climb her."

"uh... she's quite... bigger than the last one. or any other one i rode on."

"yeah, moonshine is quite something. she's gentle though, nothing to worry about. go on, don't be shy."

with a bit of struggle, and a little push from yunho, you finally sit comfortably on the tall mare. she indeed shines under the moon, black fur reflecting beautifully in the dark night. yunho climbs behind you, taking the leash in his hands and guiding the mare down the street.

"is she fast?"

"she can be. want to see?"

"i don't know. i might scream."

he chuckles. he maintains the pace, gracefully trotting down the quiet sleepy town. you see some of his companions keeping watch, each nodding their heads your way as you pass them. your gaze falls on his hands, searching for the shiny item that was mentioned that night. but you don't see it. was it really a lie? or did yunho somehow know, and took it off? is the wife even real?

"hold on tight." he whispers into your ear, hot breath brushing your neck and cheek.

you grab onto his thighs, instinctively, right before you pass the last house and yunho whips the leash against the mare. it neighs, puts its two front legs up in the air and almost throws you on the grown. you gasp, but manage to collect yourself once the animal returns to its position and starts galloping. it feels like you're flying, and you're enjoying it more than you're scared of it. your hair flies into his face probably, but he doesn't say anything.

you pass hills, past the river where you first saw the man, and into the mountains. you don't remember the last time you went this far outside of town. not only because you weren't allowed, but you had no time or way. it's not as if you had a horse of your own.

his thighs are firm under your hands, nothing but pure muscle. and it suddenly drives you crazy, the way you feel his torso pressed against your back, arms holding the leash and keeping you from falling off along the way, his breath against your ear.

"you alright?"

"yes!"

"how do you feel? scared?"

"this is so much fun! it's scary and fun!"

his laugh is loud over the wind, chest vibrating behind you. the mare slows its pace when arriving on the steep mountain trails, carefully navigating to the top. once there, it comes to a halt. it is not very high, but high enough too overlook the fields, the river, and the distant town. yunho dismounts, then helps you down.

"cold?" he asks, noticing your trembling frame.

"a bit."

this time, he doesn't throw the spare jacket at you like the first time you met. he takes off his own, helping you put it on. it's warm, smells like him, and it's making you so dizzy you might just fall off the cliff. taking a good look at him, you decide that even if he is dangerous, his handsomeness makes up for it. he wears a brown waistcoat, accentuating his thin waist and broad shoulders. heavens, he is so dashing.

you stand still, waiting for his next plan. he pulls a blanket out of the saddlebag, along with the familiar white cloth, and sets it on the ground. the mare continues it's path further up, taking a spot near a boulder, as if used to the situation already. which brings you back to the questions in your head; did he bring other women here?

"sit down, peach. make yourself comfortable."

and you do, right next to him. you both sit still for a few moments, looking at the faint light in the distance. yunho then fidgets with something in the pocket of his jeans, before holding it out for you to take. in his open palm lays a ring, the very ring you've heard about and had your head spinning for days.

"hmph," he laughs through his nose, "figured that was the issue."

"there is no issue. you have a wife. end of story."

"take it."

"no."

"take it."

"i don't want to."

yunho sighs, then closes his hand again. he sits still for a few moments, as if thinking. and then-

"why would you do that?!"

you stand up, watching the shiny piece of jewelry fall from the cliff.

"if you listened and took it, you would've seen how worthless it is."

"i don't need your wedding ring, yunho."

his eyebrows are knit together, and you suddenly realize your mistake.

"you know my name."

"yeah."

"how?"

and you tell him. every detail of it, including the wife story. he listens carefully, face not giving any emotion. typical. by the time you finish, you are laying down and looking up at the shiny sky, tears streaming down your face. yunho is propped up on his elbow, laying on the side and listening. his fingers catch a fresh tear, brushing your cheek in the process. you are left completely baffled when he puts the very same fingers on his lips, tongue peeking out to lick the salty liquid.

"you poor thing." he coos, bringing his hand back to you. he removes the hair from your neck, then smiles with satisfaction once he sees your healed skin. "that's good. seems my medical techniques worked."

you scoff, putting your hair back over your neck with embarrassment. "so, uh... your wife?"

"a psycho."

"oh."

"she stabbed me. almost bled out to death if it weren't for jongho."

he says it so casually, as if it isn't a big deal. "you're still married though, right? that's why you had the ring."

"not quite. we weren't really married. it was just play pretend, so she could have half of everything i was bringing back. once i stopped, the bitch jumped me with a knife. barely made it out alive."

"then... why did you keep it?"

"to keep women away from me. well, those i didn't want."

"but you sleep with them. you use them anyway."

he frowns at the accusation. "no, no i don't. i only rob. i sleep only with prostitues, sometimes. what my companions do is none of my business. we have a deal, and i do not ask about what they do. just like they don't ask about me or what i do."

so, not all of it is true. but then again, can you really trust him?

"i'm so sorry, dove. if i knew that sick bastard would go behind my back, even after threatening them not to touch you-"

"it's fine. nothing happened." you try, seeing him get angrier with every second he spends imagining the situation you were in.

"he stole your first kiss."

"well, yes. but, what's done is done. it was barely a kiss, really. more like mouth to mouth breathing. it was like inhaling a whole onion." you say with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. but yunho doesn't laugh. instead, he unbuttons his waistcoat, then his shirt.

"what- what are you doing?"

"well, since you showed me your bruises, and told me your story, it would only be fair that i showed you mine."

you remember the night you washed him, when you went to touch his stomach and he told you to leave. kneeling in front of him, you finally get to see why. a scar decorates his lower torso, just above the jeans and the v-line. you breathe in, ready to do something you would only in your dreams.

you lean in, hands trembling against the blanket and fingers scrunching it from the nervous state you're in. yunho shivers, feeling your lips press against his scar. you don't stop there, inspired by his own actions. you allow your tongue to graze it, and when you get another gasp from him, you take it as a sign to keep going. his hand finds its place under your chin, raising your head to that you can look at him. and he snaps.

he grabs you by your waist, pulling you up so that you sit in his lap. you don't fight back, you're enjoying it. over the layers of the dress, you feel something poking you, and it makes your cheeks heat up.

"stop looking at me like that." he whispers, lips inches away from yours.

"like what?"

"with those big eyes. like you want me to ravish you right here."

"maybe i do."

"you're saying risky things, sugar."

seeing that he doesn't intend on making the first move, you do. you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. you don't know what you're doing, but try your best. luckily, he gives in, humming into your lips and kissing you properly. his hands on your waist scrunch the fabric of your dress as he contains himself from just pushing you below him and having you his way. he needs to take it slow. you're not like others.

"relax your jaw." he mumbles, and when you do, he allows his tongue to touch your lips, as if asking for permission to enter. and you grant it, parting your lips and unsurely letting your tongue join his.

he massages your muscle with his own skilled one, rubbing it just right and making your thighs rub and seek pleasure. he kisses you slow, and deep, each stroke of his tongue more passionate than the previous one. he feels you get annoyed by something, and is forced to stop.

"what is it?"

"as much as i love your hat, it's in the way."

the man chuckles below you, immediately removing the hat and putting it on your head. "there."

"how do i look?" you adjust it, getting used to the new item.

"like a feast."

with a swift move, yunho pulls your body closer to his face, so that it is between your legs. his hands shuffle through the layers of fabric, finally finding the undergarment and pushing it aside. "what are you doing? i'm going to squish you!"

"sit."

"what?!"

"sit."

you hover above him, not yet listening. this time, he is the one to get annoyed, and puts his hands on your bottom. he slams you against his face, tongue immediately licking a stripe up your already slick folds. you gasp, hand flying to his shoulders for support.

"rock your hips, sunshine. make yourself feel good."

you do as told, rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue, soft moans and gasps leaving your mouth. you tremble in his hands, the newfound pleasure too much for you to handle. "i can't- yunho, it's too much-"

the man only sends you a mischievous look, before taking the situation into his own hands. his plush lips close around your clit, sucking it, while the tip of his tongue teases the tip of your clit. you let out a long and loud moan, body shuddering from the surge of intense pleasure.

"fuuuck-" you whine, hips hopelessly grinding against his tongue.

deciding it's enough, yunho flips you underneath him with a swift motion. "do you want to do this?"

"yes, please."

"then, i'll have to prepare you. since you asked so nicely."

he flips your dress over, exposing your wet bottom to the cool air. you shiver again, his jacket not helping much with the cold.

"this is going to hurt a little. i promise i'll be gentle."

you nod, then go back to abusing the poor blanket underneath you. you bite into it, feeling his long digits intrude your tight walls. it is unpleasant, but not that painful.

"that's a good girl. you're so wet for me, look how easily you're taking me."

he starts pumping in and out, squelching noises having you completely lose your mind and almost drool on the blanket. his fingers are long, very long. how will you survive his-?

"this good, darling?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, sir." you moan out, hips moving along with his hand in hopes of more pleasure.

he doesn't speed up. being soft and slow seems to be his way of doing it, and it is a pace you are enjoying very much. it's not fast, like you do it. you do it to get rid of it. he does it for actual pleasure. when he removes his fingers, you can't help but whine at the loss of contact. he turns you around so that you lay on your back, facing him. his hair is a mess, much like yours, and he smiles lazily at you.

"my needy girl." he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips. "can i claim you, sweet thing?"

"what?"

"do you wish to be mine?"

do you? or is it just the horny speaking instead of you? either way, you might end up regretting. so you simply say:

"yes, sir."

"say my name, darling." he pulls himself out of his jeans, the tip of his cock running circles on your sensitive clit.

"yunho."

he hums, slipping his tip past your folds. "again."

"yunho," you gasp, feeling him inch by inch splitting you in half.

"again."

"yunho-"

"more."

"yunho," thrust, "yunho," thrust, "yunho!"

he gets lost in the feeling of your tight warm walls, hips snapping deep inside of you and driving you crazy. you get wetter by the second, even more when you see him so dizzy. it's nice to know that you have him in a chokehold as much as he has you.

"does it hurt?"

"no," you reply.

"that's because you're so perfectly made for me. look at you, you fit in the palm of my hand."

that's not true, obviously. but the way he says it makes you really feel that you could fit, and that you could stay protected there. his hips collide with yours, and your eyes roll back.

"such a pretty pussy," he growls, pace getting sloppier and slower. "wish i could do this all night long."

"me too," you moan.

his hands rip your dress apart, exposing your chest. his lips waste no time in attaching to your skin, leaving bite marks all over it, until reaching the tense nipples. he takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around it, while his other hand plays with the other. your fingers find comfort in pulling his hair, subconsciously pushing his head into you further.

"my sweet peach," he coos, cock sliding in and out so easily, "my pretty girl."

"so sweet"

"even your moans are so beautiful"

"use me for your pleasure, darling"

you find yourself moving your hips along with his, only in a faster pace. you need to finally feel that orgasm. you feel something build up in the bottom of your stomach, and you're not sure what to do.

"yunho..."

"yes, my love?"

"i don't know how to- how to orgasm."

"you'll feel it. don't think about it. just relax, and let your body do it. let me do it."

you feel the buildup, then you lose it. again, and again, until you whine about it. yunho turns you around again, so that you are sitting on his lap. you feel him deep in your stomach, almost pulsating.

"let's try this."

he helps you up and down, rolls your hips, until he finds what works for you. you hover above him, hopelessly biting into his neck to contain your inappropriate noises. his hips snap into yours with a fast pace, finally hitting the spot you didn't know existed. the buildup starts again, this time not stopping. and when pleasure washes you over, you can't help but pull at yunho's hair mercilessly, moaning into his ear and letting yourself completely go. he helps you ride it out, waves of intense pleasure washing over you as yunho helps himself get closer.

"fuck, darling." he growls, pulling out of you.

"wait, what about you?"

"i'll just- i don't know."

his hand wraps around his cock, which is ready to unleash any moment. the man almost audibly gasps when he sees you kneel in front of him, innocently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. just how did you know?

"are you sure?"

"positive."

"absolutely sure?"

"yunho?"

"yes?"

"please cum in my mouth."

and it's all it takes. yunho jerks himself on your tongue, or at least tries to. some of it ends up on your face, but you so carefully try to collect every single drop he gives you. you don't miss the way his head falls back, eyes rolling and low moans escaping his pretty lips. coming down from his high with one last pump and moan, he finally looks at you. the texture on your tongue is not the most pleasant one, but you decide to impress him further, and swallow it. he scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.

"you are just perfect, aren't you?"

in the morning, the ride back is much more comfortable. you still wear his hat, proudly, and his jacket. he can't help but kiss your shoulder as you ride, having it difficult enough to keep his hands off you. if only he could hold you in his pocket all day.

upon entering the town, you notice the people, your people, standing and waiting. would now be the right time to tell yunho you accept his offer?

he helps you dismount, before taking the revolver in his hand.

"what's this? a rebellion?" he says, mockingly.

"does she know?" your father asks, pointing at you.

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking between the two men. something shines in your fathers hand, and you realize he also holds a revolver.

"there is nothing to know." yunho replies, approaching him and standing in front of you. "you keep your mouth shut."

"oh, but there is. see, my little daughter, if you want to whore around, you could've picked anyone from the town. not your own mother's killer."

blood runs cold in your veins. the sun suddenly doesn't shine as bright anymore, and the man in front of you morphs into someone else. he turns around towards you, shaking his head. "no..."

"he shot her."

"you shot my father!"

"he deserved it!"

"no, the fuck he didn't!"

you step back, tears burning your eyes. did you really give yourself to the man who took your mother away from you? who also took your father away from you?

"listen-" yunho tries, hands reaching to touch you.

"don't touch me."

"he came here to finish the business. but he didn't count that he would fall for the daughter. what a clash of interests."

he doesn't deny it. and it only infuriates you more. so he did have an evil plan after all.

"you came for me, didn't you?" your father presses further, raising his revolver.

"no, i didn't." yunho replies, face changing from a guilty and sorry one to a neutral. "i came for her."

he grabs you by your shoulders, putting his hand over your mouth. you toss, scream, and whatnot, but what are you compared to his grip?

"i assume you won't care much if i took her away. but it would mean much to me. tit for tat."

"you are to never step foot into this town again. not you, not your companions."

yunho nods. and your father puts his weapon away. and it crashes your heart. you know you don't mean much to him, but to give you to an outlaw so easily?

"i came for what i wanted, not to worry. you won't see me ever again."

and just like that, you find yourself tied up and tossed over the black mare.

why did you ever wish for a life other than the one you had?

"you're all mine now, sunshine."

feedback greatly appreciated! <3

[digital-domain]

Written in Blood

Alastor x Reader // Word Count 2.2k

In which you’re given a lasting reminder of who should be on your mind.

tags/warnings: dark content, yandere, violence, branding, scratching, blood, alastor definitely wanting to taste said blood (but holding himself back), implied sexual content, power imbalance, abuse, absolutely fucked relationship dynamic, reader clearly has no control over what happens to her (therefore dubcon/noncon implications)

A/N: this exists because the wonderful @absolute-flaming-trash planted this idea in my head. Let us all take a moment to bow down to our queen <3

As always - 18+, read the tags, if you don’t like the tags then don’t go below the cut (or into my inbox). Thank you and enjoy.

Alastor’s hand slides gently up your back, the soft touch contrasting ominously with the brutal way he’d slapped you just moments before. Your clothes are strewn haphazardly across the floor (while his all remain on, and intact), but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with your lack of cover. His gloves, which he’s never removed before, now lay discarded along with the rest of the scraps, two fingers slick with the residue you’ve left behind.

“What’s my name, darling?” 

The pet name feels underhanded, cruel as the sting of his palm that still burns on your cheek, but you don’t take the time to ponder it. This is not the time for resistance - the way his hand pressed against your bare skin, trapping you between his palm and your bedroom floor, is enough to remind you of that. “Alastor…”

“That’s correct! Very well done.” The charm lingers in his voice, barely betraying a hint of the malice underneath. “And why, pray tell, did I feel the need to ask you such a simple question?”

“Because…” Because you’d been stupid, and let your mind wander, as it often does, to the life you’d led before. The people you’d loved. The time when being… intimate felt real, when it wasn’t just another piece in some twisted game whose rules you’ve never been told. “Because you want to make sure that I remember it.”

It was in one of those warped, vulnerable moments, when you’d felt everything and he’d seemed to feel nothing at all, besides a sick sense of amusement at seeing you lose yourself. That was when you made your mistake. Let go a little too much, and sighed a name that wasn’t his. One that you missed, one that you often closed your eyes and pictured above you - you’d been too deep in your reverie to realize how deeply you’d betrayed yourself, and by the time you’d come back to your senses, it had been far too late to do anything but beg for forgiveness.

“I do want you to remember.” He sighs. “Such a shame that you would rather forget…”

You don’t protest. He’s not wrong, at all. How desperately you wish you could go back to the life you had before. At the very least, you could have chosen to go somewhere else - anywhere else - in the wake of your death. You’d give anything to rewind the clock, now, to forget him entirely and start anew, go down some other path that didn’t end with him. With this.

You’re surprised when his hand pauses on your upper back, beside your shoulder. Truly, you’d believed that he was going for your neck, that he was going to clamp his fist around your throat and cut the air off from your lungs until your vision went black. Instead, his free hand finds your own, and clasps over it, locking his fingers with yours. He gently squeezes into your palm, a gesture that would be comforting if it didn’t come from him.

“Let’s make sure you don’t forget again, shall we?” He sounds calm, almost soothing, a sudden shift from the rage you’d been subjected to just a minute before. He turns on a dime like this often, and you’re never sure which side of him to trust. Never sure what’s an act, or what’s real.

“I won’t.” You mean it, more than anything you’ve ever said to him. There’s a knot in your stomach, pulling tighter with this sudden change in demeanor, and you want desperately to unravel it. To have peace, if only for a little while. “It was just a mistake. I won’t ever do it again.”

“Of course you won’t.” His head drops, distorted static pressing into your ear. From out of the corner of your eye, you can see that familiar red glow pulsing out behind him - always a sign of worse things to come. “Not after this. ”

The hand on your back tenses, and you tense along with it. Unnaturally sharp nails dig slowly into your flesh until, with an agonizing jolt, your skin breaks beneath them. At this, three of his fingers lift, but the fourth - his index finger - burrows deeper into your flesh, and yanks down, ripping a diagonal gash inches long.

You scream. Truly scream, your mind ripping from pain and shock, just as awfully and tangibly as your skin. He’s hurt you before…but he’s never drawn blood, and certainly never sent it dripping in rivulets down your back. 

He sighs, and brings his finger back up to the opening point of the fresh cut. “Oh… this is going to be a long few minutes for you, isn’t it?” Without any more preamble, he tears into you all over again, yanking out another cry of pain as he pulls away at the opposite angle, drawing out a deep scratch the same length as the first.

There are tears in your eyes. Normally, you’d try to hold them back, but this time you can’t pull yourself together, as hard as you try. You let them fall, let yourself cry out loud. Somewhere in the haze that your mind has become, it occurs to you that there’s something very deliberate about the placement of these scratches. Something methodical.

“Do you even know what I’m doing?” He cackles over you, a luminescent red glow fading into the corners of your vision. “Perhaps after this one, if you still haven’t figured it out, I’ll give you a hint…” 

He delves into you once more. This slash stings most harshly at the ends, where it connects the two lines already drawn, halfway down, digging again into already-broken skin. Slowly, your mind forms an image, connecting the strokes…when the pieces fall together, a sob, loud and raw and hopeless, plummets out of your mouth.

“You understand.” He presses his thumb into the blood pouring from your back, and gently runs it over the A he’s carved into your skin. “No need to despair…that’s one letter done already.”

“I…” You squirm, shaking violently beneath him. “I can’t…”

“ Don’t be ridiculous.” He slides his hand down, already preparing for another stroke. “I’m not going to leave my art unfinished…it would be such a waste. And very confusing to anyone who happened to get a glimpse - not as if I intend to allow such a thing to happen.” 

His name - it’s going to be written diagonally across your entire back. He’s left just enough room for the remaining letters, while taking up as much space as possible with each cut. 

“Stop shaking, my dear. You’re going to mess this up…and I’m sure you don’t want me to have to do it over again.”

You try to figure out how many more times you’re going to have to take this, how many more scratches before you’re done. Two for the L, another three for the next A…

He slices into your back, straight down, and the numbers disappear from your head. It’s hopeless. You bite your lip, hard, but you can’t keep yourself silent.

“ Poor thing.” The condescension is palpable, dripping cruelly from his lips. “If only you’d controlled yourself to begin with. It takes just a moment to ruin everything…I do hope that you won’t do it again.”

Oh, you know that that’s a lie. He loves having a reason.

Another slash, and a hum of satisfaction from behind you when you go still, recovering just a bit quicker than the time before. “Two down.”

He says it like it’s a good thing, and not a reason for you to sob harder. Two down means five to go….means you’ve barely started.

His mouth is close enough to a fresh tear that you can feel his hot, hungry breath against your torn skin, his macabre smile burning into your spine. 

And - oh god. Something wet and warm hits your back, slides down and mixes with the rivulets of blood trailing over your skin.

“So tempting …” He sighs raggedly, and slowly, oh-so-reluctantly pulls himself back. “But I know myself well enough not to go down that path with you …it would be far too hard to stop once I started.”

Even the pain of the scratch that follows isn’t enough to push away the pure horror that curls in your gut.

Neither is the next.

Or the next.

He’s dragging it out, each time insisting that you still your shaking limbs before he continues, giving your hand an awful, gentle squeeze before moving on. Your eyes are screwed shut almost the entire time - but with each stroke, there’s a moment when they flicker open, and take in a bit of that terrible red light before you manage to wrestle them close.

It doesn’t get better. If anything, you think it’s getting crueler as it goes on, but you pull yourself together enough to start apologizing again, whimpered “ I’m sorry ”s gasping almost inaudibly from your mouth.

“I’m not convinced.” The pad of his finger traces up, readies his next stroke. “You’d say anything to get out of this, my dear. It’s only when I’m done that I’ll be satisfied.”

You bite down on your lip until it breaks, scratch at the palm of your free hand, the floorboards beneath. It’s only been a few minutes, but this is beginning to feel like your entire existence - you can’t conjure memories of a time before it, and you certainly can’t imagine a time after. Least of all looking in the mirror when this all over…

He pauses for an extra moment before this next letter, as if he’s giving time to let the dread sink in. You’ve lost track of where you are - but the O is unmistakable. One long, unbroken stroke that requires him to twist his nail against your skin. 

He laughs indulgently, almost sweetly, as you gasp and writhe helplessly beneath him. “Almost finished, darling…try to be patient.”

Oh, if his affection felt twisted before, it’s a  thousand times worse now. And yet, he somehow manages to make it sound genuine. Like he feels bad that he has to do this to you. It would almost be easier, you think, to let yourself believe it.

His voice is soft, the static almost entirely fallen away. “Now, tell me again - what is my name?”

You choke back your tears, force what little air you can into your lungs. You’re almost done, but everything hurts so much that it barely matters. His voice sounds so far away, hovering above you, reverberating strangely in your head.

He presses his lips to your ear. “ Answer me.”

“A”-

As soon as you attempt to speak, he slashes down once more, and your voice dissolves into something between a sob and a scream.

He laughs, and doesn’t bother pausing before finishing off the R of his name,grinding his talon deep into your back, grin spreading wide in the corner of your eye as you shriek. “Not quite.”

You’re sure that there’s a pool of your tears on the floor, but you’re too out of it to see with certainty, even if you did manage to open your eyes.

“Hm.” He sighs, gently tracing the pad of his finger over the final scratch. “And…what about your name? Surely, you can at least remember that.”

His nails suddenly dig into your torn skin, sending a fresh shudder of pain curdling down your spine, leaving you gasping - not to speak, but to quell the churning in your stomach.

“Shame.” He gives your hand another squeeze. “But I’m sure it will come back to you, before long. You’re very resilient…I think that’s why I always have so much fun when we’re together.”

Your head spins. It’s been spinning for what feels like an eternity, numbed and stretched out by his torture. You want him gone. Now, and forever. But once he leaves, you’ll be just as miserable. Playing what just happened in a sickening loop in your head until the pain finally goes away. Until you wash every stain from your skin. And even then…

Oh, even long after that. Just like he said - you’re never going to forget. 

He rises to his feet, collects his gloves from where they lie on the floor, and slides them into his pocket. For some time, he stands silent and still above you. Even with your face pressed to the ground, you know that he’s staring, eyes flashing bright and red as he surveys the results of his work. 

“I’m sure you’ll do better next time,” he sighs. “Until then…”

His hand slides under your jaw, forcing you to look up. He bends down at an angle that truly doesn’t make sense, uses his bloodied fingers to swipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks, pushes back your hair - and kisses you oh-so-softly on the forehead. 

You don’t move. Don’t speak. The tears are still coming, and you’re not even sure if they’re still from the pain. 

“ Take care, my dear.”

You wait until he’s turned away before you allow yourself to react, nails digging into your palms as your face falls back to the floor. Shaking. You stay there until long after the door has shut behind you.

[satoruxx]

sorry to go feral in your inbox but ghostface!miguel who is crazy about you (in a good way I promise) and does everything in his power to protect you and keep those horrible college guys from your classes away from you but you only know him as the mysterious gravelly voice who calls you every night that you’ve grown fond of as your personal lullaby-

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader | 1.5k words summary: ghostface!miguel, stalking, possessive miguel, violence, death, killing, obsessive behavior, suggestive, killer miguel ofc, reader is WAY too trusting, miggy just loves you so much !! rheya’s note: NONNIE BABES YOU GENIUS !! he absolutely would oh my fucking god. i am so normal about this (going feral) i was literally squealing while writing this it was rough. why is this concept hot? do i need therapy? probably. anyways he's a creep in this but in a good way? (the way this ask literally got me inspired to draw ghostface!miguel UGH) anyways ENJOY !!

miguel isn't a bad guy. he's not. he's one of the good guys actually, a hero. he's always been a hero.

it's not his fault that there are some assholes in the world that are fucked up, preying on innocent people who just want to live their lives.

sweet, innocent people like you.

how a girl as sweet and precious as you managed to get yourself surrounded by such horrible people is beyond him. and you're so nice too, always assuming that nobody has it out for you or that everyone has some good in them. with that mindset, you were just asking to be put in danger.

so, being the hero that he is, it's his obligation to look out for you, right?

it starts off quietly. he doesn't make an effort to connect with you, choosing to watch you from the shadows as he silently tracks your day. miguel is nothing if not observant, mentally noting every single person you interact with or looks your way. and if they get a little too close, a little too comfortable? well, then he'd just have to take care of that for you, wouldn't he?

he hates that one flirty coworker of yours, always leaning a little too close to you and chatting like he's your fucking boyfriend. miguel can see the little crease of discomfort in your brows whenever that coworker is nearby, and he decides that he hates that expression on you. but you feel fine afterwards, because when your coworker goes missing the next day, you send a quick thank you to the heavens, trying to push down your guilt.

he finds out that you try to make some extra money by tutoring a guy at your school. and when miguel watches the two of you through the windows of the library he feels hatred like no other run through his veins because he doesn't like how this guy looks at you. that asshole probably didn't even need tutoring to begin with, using it as a pathetic excuse to get close to you. what a fucking joke. but you don't have to stress about tutoring anymore because the next day you get a text saying the kid has transferred schools. you never hear from him again.

oh but the worst ones are the ones who ask you out on dates. they don't even know how lucky they are, getting to see you all dolled up and pretty for them, only to absolutely destroy your hopes for a good time. it makes miguel so angry he sees red. every fucking time one of those losers makes a comment that has your shoulders slumping with disappointment, a miserable frown on your pretty lips by the end of the night, he feels sick to his stomach. but he hopes that when you see your date's body on the news the next morning, you won't be so disappointed anymore.

only after watching over you for a while does miguel decide to finally talk to you, finding the perfect hiding spot to watch you through your window as you pick up your ringing phone. he has to stop himself from groaning because your voice sounds so much sweeter when it's in his ear, smooth and precious as you ask who it is. and he can't resist playing with you, dying to hear more as he sighs behind his mask.

"tell me your name and maybe i'll tell you mine." miguel answers, gravelly voice practically purring through the speaker. he can see the confusion on your face as you pace your kitchen, reaching for a bag of chips before walking back to your couch and settling in to watch a movie. he hears the screams from the tv and bites his lip. "what's that noise?"

"a movie." you reply, the expression on your face getting less guarded as you listen to his voice.

"a scary movie?" he asks, leaning against the edge of the roof so that he's got the perfect view of you. you take a chip and pop it in your mouth, chewing quietly, and he follows the movement of your lips with eager eyes.

"mhm," you nod, and miguel thinks it's so fucking cute the way you move your head even though you think he can't see you.

"you like scary movies?" he asks with a hum, and you voice out a yes. his eyes remain hooded and attentive as he effortlessly continues the conversation. "you got a favorite, sweetheart?"

he catches the way you melt under his sweet words, and miguel decides then and there that he's never letting you go. he listens to your answers with a grin, tucking his knife away and watching you animatedly talk to him for the remainder of the night.

and the rest is history.

you tell him about a guy who's bothering you? he'll bury him. someone made you cry? he'll break their legs. your date stood you up? he'll stab them so many times he loses count. and then after all of that, he'll call you like he always does, rumbling honeylike words into his phone as he casually watches you from behind his mask.

"and how was your day today, sweetheart?" he'll drawl out, late at night as he perches on the neighboring roof to your apartment. with the way he's angled he can perfectly see the innocent little smile on your face as you settle in bed, talking on the phone like you're not scared of him at all.

and you shouldn't be, because he'd never hurt you, of course.

some nights you'll giddily tell him about the most exciting parts of your day, smiling and giggling until you fall asleep without a care in the world. but on the nights when you complain or whine about somebody that's made you upset, wronged you, or god forbid, showed interest in you? well, those are the nights miguel has to grit his teeth and clench his fists, trying to control the flare of pure rage that courses through him. he lulls you to sleep with sweet words, trying to keep his cool but still vibrating with anger because who the fuck do they think they are, getting near you like that?

"don't worry, pretty girl," he sighs into the phone, twirling his knife between his fingers. "i'm sure they'll stop bothering you soon enough."

and they do. but you being the precious oblivious little thing you are, assume that you're just lucky. a guardian angel, you had said, was watching over you. miguel had just chuckled into the phone, deep and rich as he smirked at you from the roof once again.

"guardian angel? well lucky you, huh?" he had asked, feeling all too pleased with himself. you agreed with a nod.

well, if that's what you wanted to see him as he had no problem playing guardian angel for you.

and no he doesn't even want you to find out, because the last thing he wants to do is scare you. no no, he'd much rather protect you from the shadows, eliminating every single threat could ever harm a hair on your pretty little head. his reward comes in the form of you living your life, carefree smiles and all.

and granted he feels much more rewarded when he calls you late at night, deep voice teasing with an underlying sense of possessiveness as he speaks to you about anything and everything. he doesn't understand why and how you decided that he was safe to talk to, but you do, laughing and sighing into the phone until you've dozed off.

and if you've accidentally left your windows open, well of course being the gentleman he is, miguel will close them for you. but not before he stands at your bedside, raising his mask to watch you sleep peacefully. such a pretty little thing, so sweet and gentle. and after pulling himself away from your sleeping form, he quietly shuts the window behind him, yanking his mask back down with a smirk because he doesn't want anyone else to see you all vulnerable like that.

you were too trusting to begin with, but you trusting him is alright. after all he's the only one who's been looking out for you. anyone else tries to get near you and he'll have no choice but to tear their limbs off. they could be a threat to you, right?

but that's why he'll never let you out of his sight.

you're his after all.

[genderkoolaid]

tw suicide, s/a

hi i wanted to submit something for the antitransmasculine violence archive. unsure if it counts but basil brown was a genderqueer disability activist recently who killed themself after being raped on campus. the school is covering it up, they're being misgendered everywhere, and it hurts. I knew them.

https://www.kadn.com/news/local/an-unspeakable-loss-ul-releases-statement-after-student-suicide-on-campus/article_4b6797c2-f5c1-11ee-bfc4-9326f10eb630.html

https://twitter.com/Georgeroyde/status/1777602502298345748?t=-7gb5o5HL3lE3UQziTG5yg&s=19

same anon that sent about basil. just found out libs of tiktok posted about them. sick to my stomach

Yes, this absolutely counts. Thank you for sending me this.

From their Instagram I can see that they were on T at some point and used to identify as trans man; if anyone can find out if they were still comfortable being grouped under the "transmasculine" umbrella by the end of their life, it would be much appreciated. I am going to put them on the list for the sake of visibility, but I want to make sure their full genderqueer identity isn't being ignored.

Basil wrote this Instagram post, apparently in reference to a trans boy who died (according to this, also by suicide) and was misgendered by the Louisiana School for Math, Science and Arts, now unfortunately too relevant in their own death:

Honor Max. Use his name, use his pronouns. Be brave enough to handle the consequences, and stand up for him. It is equal parts heartbreaking and blood boiling for you to make the choice to disrespect him, even in death. Protect trans kids.

They link a neocities website in their Instagram bio, which appears to be a product of their own creation. Its very interesting and full of art, so if you want to check it out to honor their memory, go to ocimum.neocities.org

Their name was, and is, Basil Brown.

UPDATE: According to a friend, Basil used he/they pronouns at the time of his death.

Additionally, I want to point out that one of the people Basil accused of raping them is a professor at the university they were attending. The university has only put out the vaguest nothingburger of a response (linked above) to a student's on-campus suicide & accusation of rape.

[ghostybaby000]

A Night out | Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Simon Riley x reader

Summary: What started out as a simple night of catching up with old colleagues soon becomes a worst fear come true, and calling Simon is all you can think to do. (Part one above!)

Word count: 760

Warnings: 18+, violence, blood, cursing, alcohol, SA

Tag List: @talooolaaloolla @yyiikes @weeping-werewolf @aprilplage @abbiesxox @jajouska @blackbeautyiloveyouso

Simon picked up and quickly went silent, not hearing any loud music or chatter from your end. 

‘Hello dove, I’m about 5 minutes out…’ His voiced trailed on, you knew he could hear your breathing, but you were afraid to speak. The man made his way into the bathroom further, slowly pushing open the stall doors, chills overcame your entire body.

He made his way to the stall next to yours, pushing open the door more aggressively this time, your voice quivered in your throat. You listened to Simon drive, hearing the car accelerate you felt hopeful that he would make it. The man was now standing outside your stall. He tried to push open the door, and when it didn’t move, he started banging. His drunken voice making your hair stand on end,

‘Ohh who’s in here? Are you hiding?’ You thought you were going to be sick again as the man once more banged on the door, echoing through the small room. You heard the car tires screech as the phone line went dead, he was here. You saw the man get down on his knees, he was crawling for the open slot under the door. 

You tried to position yourself as far away as possible, scrambling for thoughts of what to do if he made it inside. You could kick him if he tried to get in, you could scream-not that anyone would hear you over the pounding music. You heart raced as you saw his hand come over the bottom lip of the stall. He tried to reach his hand up to find the lock and you couldn’t let that happen. You kicked as hard as you could from the awkward crouch you were holding over the toilet. The man shrieked as he withdrew his hand inhaling sharply, where was Simon? 

‘You little bitch, playing hard to get are we?’ His knees came closer to the door, and he lowered his ugly face to the bottom, peering in and up at you, a grin coming across his face. The bathroom door swung in with such force, it was as if it were going to break off the hinges. The man turned quickly and began to mumble something, never getting the chance to finish his stammering. He had been lifted up and slammed back down to the ground, you couldn’t watch. You looked to the ceiling, tears beginning to flood your eyes as you heard the man yell out in pain, and the silence. 

‘Y/N are you in there?’ Simons voice flooded your head as you slowly came off the toilet and unlocked the door. You realize you weren’t really breathing and allowed yourself to finally breath in deep. Tears came down your cheeks as Simon closed the distance between you. He lifted your face to his, his eyes inspecting every inch they could see. 

‘Are you hurt at all?’ His voice echoed with fear, the tears only coming faster now, you shook your head and laid into his chest. After a second or two, you look back up to Simon with your eyes red from crying, and your hair tangled. 

‘I wanna go home.’ He didn’t even fully let you finish what you were saying before you were gently scooped up and whisked out of the bathroom. Simon had you in his arms as he made his way out, the last thing you saw was the creep on his side, a small splatter of blood coming from around his face. You held your clutch as Simon made his way towards the entrance of the bar. His quick pace made your stomach turn from the lights and loud music, but you didn’t mind. You were more than happy to be leaving. 

The group you were with had regathered and were talking as if nothing happened, so much for friends. One of them had looked over to you, being carried out by the beast of a man that was your Simon, you simply gave a small wave, and then let yourself fall into his body. 

You felt his hand tighten over your dress so it didn’t move, there was no way anyone was getting a look at you, that wasn’t him- it made you feel warm inside as you made your way out into the now cold night air.

You were set down in the passenger seat, belt bucked securely for you, Simons hand brushing stray hair from your face. The drive home was a daze, one that ended with you being asleep by the time you had pulled into drive way. 

[lovelybucky1]

Better Than Revenge

Kinktober Day 7- Fear Play

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT- noncon, kidnapping, violence, drugging, mentions of sexual assault, revenge porn, non-consensual picture taking, stalking, forced breeding, blackmail, AFAB!reader, bondage, humiliation, pain play, degradation, vaginal fingering, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, 18+ minors DNI

kinktober masterlist

main masterlist

You enjoyed your time at college. You made many new friends, partied, joined clubs, and learned a little along the way. It was fun for a freshly eighteen-year-old, but by the time the end of your senior year came, you were ready to move on to adult life. Since then, you don’t think about college much in your daily life. Your college friends are now just your friends, and your better days are still to come, not behind you.

That’s not to say you never think fondly back on a memory or two here and there, but you’re so busy with your job at the DA’s office that you don’t have time to be hung up on the past. Others, you’ve found, do still live in the past.

Dr. Jonathan Crane, the chief psychiatrist at Arkham took notice of you when you first started working for the DA. Crane was not well-liked by your boss, seeing as he always managed a way to get the criminals you were trying to put behind bars an insanity plea. While he was a frustrating legal enemy, you never had anything to do with the man outside of the courtroom, or so you thought.

After a long day of court and debating with Crane, you were walking home from the office late when a metal pipe cracked over your head and you fell to the wet pavement, out cold. When you woke, you found yourself in a damp, cold warehouse with Dr. Crane looking on from a chair, dressed in a lab coat. Fear spikes in your stomach when you see the man in front of you. Being in your position, there’s only one explanation for why he would be here as well, though you can’t imagine why.

You are bound and gagged; your arms are wrenched in an uncomfortable position above your head and your wrists are tied to a chain from the ceiling. Your mouth is covered with duct tape, effectively suppressing any screams. Your toes just barely touch the floor, which puts a horrible strain on your arms, but there is no use fighting against the bonds.

When Crane notices you regain consciousness, he stands from his chair and approaches you. He gets close to your face and looks into your slightly hazy and unfocused eyes, his own piercing ones making you tremble under his gaze.

“Don’t struggle, you’ll hurt yourself,” he says, voice eerily soothing for a kidnapper. “You know, it’s dangerous for a girl like you to walk alone at night. This city’s a dangerous place, you never know what kind of creeps could be lurking in the shadows.”

He grins a sick, vile grin that makes your skin crawl. Crane reaches out and tips your chin up with his cold pointer finger. He moves your face from side to side, examining you, checking for any damage he might have done. His thumb traces the duct tape over your mouth, finding the seam of your lips and touching you like a doll.

“I’m surprised you’ve kept your looks with how you used to party,” he says casually. You furrow your brows in confusion but you’re unable to question him. “Though I’m sure your liver isn’t what it used to be.”

Before you can ponder his words, Crane walks behind you and you can hear the sound of metal tools clattering together. When he reappears, he is holding a pair of sheers and wears a sadistic smirk. He roughly grabs the hem of your blouse and cuts it up the middle, exposing your bra. He then cuts the fabric of the sleeves so the garment falls to the floor, leaving you topless.

You want to fight back to get this sick creep off of you, but you figure it’s best not to provoke the man with scissors against your skin. Instead, you’re subjected to his eyes ogling you.

“What a thing to wear to work,” he says, amused. “I’m sure this can’t be comfortable. Were you wearing it for an occasion?” he asks, fingers tracing the delicate lace of the band. “Surely not a date. I know you don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t think you’re the type of girl to put out on the first date.”

You wonder how he could know you don’t have a boyfriend when the realization hits you. He knew what path you took on your way home, he knew what time you’d be leaving the office, and he knew details of your private life that you haven’t shared with anyone but your friends. He’s been stalking you.

“Maybe you had other plans for lunch with your boss this afternoon. Dent is quite the looker, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. What his poor wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” he asks with a smirk. “You really haven't changed.” You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’re not sure what any of this means.

Crane then moves the sheers to the hem of your skirt and makes a small cut. Instead of cutting all the way up like he did with your blouse, he drops the scissors, grasps the skirt, and starts to slowly tear it. The sound of the fabric ripping is deafening in the near-silent warehouse, and fear threatens to rise in your throat as he creeps up your thigh. His eyes watch the exposed skin intently as he undresses you, clearly gaining some kind of pleasure from this. When he reaches the top, he lets the skirt fall at your feet and now has an unobstructed view of your matching underwear set.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “what a surprise. I guess you did have big plans.”

He slips his finger underneath the elastic band of your panties and snaps them back against your hip, making you jump. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps from the cold air and you squirm as you try in vain to hide yourself.

“You don’t mind if I look under these, do you?” he asks, tugging on your panties again.

Up to this point, you haven’t protested, figuring it was better to cooperate, but you can’t let him violate you like this. You let out a muffled “no” and violently shake your head as you try to move away from his touch. Crane only laughs and moves closer to you. You kick him in the knee and he curses, but it doesn’t do much to deter him.

“You can’t fight me off. All you’re doing is making this worse for yourself,” he hisses. You try to scream, but with the duct tape sealing your lips, it’s no use. “Do you have something to say?”

You plead with your eyes and he reaches up to grasp the edge of the duct tape, but he takes it as an opportunity to be more cruel. He rips the tape from your lips, surely taking skin with it.

“Help!” you scream, “Somebody help me!”

Instead of ordering you to be quiet or suppressing your screams, Crane just laughs.

“Scream all you want, no one’s going to hear you. Not like anyone would care if the world was down one useless bimbo anyway.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to me?” you shout, your throat feeling raw from the strain.

Anger flashes in Crane’s eyes and his jaw clenches. You continue to thrash and scream, and despite what he said about no one caring, he tightly grabs your waist and steps on your foot to keep you from moving. His face is now only inches from yours and you get the idea to spit into his face. It won’t do much, but it’s the only thing you can do to deter him.

Crane hisses and lets go of your waist to wipe the spit out of his eyes, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are glassy and his dark eyelashes are clumped together.

“You fucking bitch,” he bites. “You’re lucky I haven’t hurt you yet.”

The vague threat does frighten you, but you have many questions that you demand answers to.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me, Crane?” you ask again.

He laughs bitterly. “Of course you don’t know. You probably have no clue what you’ve done to me. The hell you put me through.”

He leans his weight on the foot crushing yours and when you wince, he grabs your jaw tightly, squishing your cheeks together and forcing your mouth open.

“I don’t know,” you say as best you can.

“You don’t remember college?” he asks. “Your sorority sisters and their fucking jock boyfriends tormenting me. How for years you made my life a living hell just for existing outside of your perfect little bubble.”

His face is twisted into a snarl now as he recounts the memories that drove him to his actions tonight. “I thought the bullying would be over when I got to college but it was so much worse. My door would get vandalized every fucking day with insults and crude images. You and your group of whores spread all kinds of rumors that I was crazy. You said I was a psychopath, a pervert, a sadistic killer who got off on seeing women in fear. Everyone believed it. Everyone.”

As he explained his story, your memory was jogged. You remember a short, skinny guy from college who wore thick-framed glasses and carried a satchel to class. He was awkward, made uncomfortable eye contact, and often made himself the target of ridicule. He had a vast knowledge of science and medicine and was very interested in the mind’s reaction to fear. You never knew his name, only ever referring to him as “Peeping Tom”, which was kind in comparison to some of your friends’ nicknames for him.

“I was an outcast for four fucking years. I couldn’t transfer, I couldn’t afford any other school. Not like you could ever understand that. I accepted that I was a social pariah, but then you went and ruined my fucking life even more,” he hisses.

You didn’t notice the knife in his hand until the point was against your chest, too lost in his rage-filled eyes. You now remember more of what he’s saying and you want to apologize and assure him that you’ve changed, but he seems past the point of reason.

“October 2nd, 1997. I was in my room studying for an exam when you showed up at my door. You were clearly drunk and you came onto me. You promised me all kinds of things and pushed me onto my bed and sat on my lap. You kissed me and took off my shirt, then put your hand down my pants and took my dick out. That’s when your hoard of sluts and every guy you’ve ever fucked barged into my room and took pictures. They spread them to everyone, and it was all because of you.” he hissed. “I was labeled the creep, the predator, the pathetic virgin who thought he could make it with a sorority girl and it was all your fault.”

The man in front of you was shaking with anger, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted the memory. The blade trembled in his hand and dug slightly into your skin, but the pain from the knife was overpowered by the icy feeling of fear.

“Jonathan,” you say meekly, “That was almost a decade ago. I-I’m so sorry I did that to you, I don’t even remember it. I promise I’ve changed.”

“You don’t remember it, that’s exactly why I have to do this. You’re never going to forget again.”

You whimper in fear as he brings the knife up to your neck. The blade bites at your skin, catching when you take a breath.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper with your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. That’d be such a waste of a warm hole.”

His words are disgusting and degrading. They make you want to shiver out of your own skin and run as far away from him as possible. Luckily, he removes the knife from your neck and takes a small step back.

Crane reaches into his pants pocket and takes out a small digital camera. Your eyes widen when you see it, immediately catching on to what he plans to do to you. He powers the camera on and points it at you, smiling when he sees your pixilated form on the display. He clicks the shutter and a light flashes.

He lowers the camera from his face to reveal a wicked smirk. "It doesn't feel too good, does it?" he asks. "Well it's about to get a lot worse for you."

He kicks your bare ankle with his foot, making you wince as your legs spread. He laughs cruelly and does the same to the other foot. Your legs are open uncomfortably, giving him easy access to what you're desperate to hide from him.

His fingers, long and cold, push through your folds and into your cunt without warning or preparation. He fingers you despite being dry to start, but you slowly get wetter in response to the intrusion.

"Still such a slut even after all this time," he says. "I'm not surprised you're so loose."

He fingers you roughly, seemingly unsure of how to do it, or maybe he just cares that little for your comfort. His nails catch on the ridges inside of you and the poking of his fingers scissoring make you wince. Thankfully he got his fill of that quickly, and pulled out his wet fingers.

He brings them to his nose to sniff, then wipes your wetness off on his pants. "Smells like whore," he says.

Without any further words, Crane reaches down and grabs you by your ankle and pulls it off the floor. You yelp as you lose your balance and your bonds tug on your shoulders. Crane then hooks your foot on a strap that also comes from the ceiling. He then does the same to your other leg.

Now you're suspended in the air, cunt on display for him and helpless. Crane takes out the camera again and takes more pictures of you spread out.

"I have waited so long for this."

Crane wears a sick, wicked grin that does not falter as stands between your spread legs. His hands work his fly open and quickly he frees his cock. It's already hard and the flushed tip is leaking, just from the torture he's inflicting onto you.

"I knew after that night that you would be my first," he says as he rubs his head through your folds. "Weather you wanted to be or not."

Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes into you bare. He goes slow, likely for his own sake so he doesn’t cum too soon, but whatever mercy he shows you doesn’t provide any comfort.

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he begins to rut. Erratic, inexperienced thrusts to chase his own pleasure inside of being conscientious of yours. His eyes are half lidded and laser-focused on your breasts.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

With each thrust, the makeshift sex swing he has you in rocks, making the chains that hold you creak. You worry that you’re going to fall, but you suppose that would be better than a knife in your gut.

Crane’s cock bumps against your cervix which makes you whimper from the discomfort, but he thinks it’s out of pleasure.

“You like that? You like taking my cock like a fucking fleshlight? Didn’t think you’d be so easy, but I guess all it took back then was a spot on the football team to get into your pants.”

Crane is indeed using you like a fleshlight. He alternates between thrusting into you and holding onto the chains to move you over his cock. It’s humiliating, painful, awful, but he’s no longer threatening you with a knife.

He pulls out the camera again and points the lens at your pussy where it’s stretched around him. Then he backs up the camera a bit to capture your full form, contorted by the chains.

“W-what are you gonna do with those?” you ask with your broken voice.

“Exactly what you did to me,” he growls.

“No! No, please, you can’t do that.”

He grabs the chains and slams you down onto him, sending him impossibly deeper.

“You ruined my life. Now it’s your turn.”

“My career will be over! Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t send those to anyone!”

You’re begging shamelessly, sobbing and snotty, but none of this seems to turn him off. In fact, he seems to enjoy it more.

“I’m sure Dent would be interested to see what you get up to after hours. Of course, your reputation would be ruined once the rest of the city sees your messy cunt.”

All you can do is cry and shake your head.

“I know you’re good friends with Bruce Wayne. Maybe I’ll tell everyone that he did this to you and ruin you both. Wouldn’t that be sweet,” he says.

His voice is raspy and low; he’s clearly very affected by the pleasure of using you and you doubt he can hold on for much longer.

“I-I’ll do anything, Dr. Crane. Please,” you say between sobs.

“Hmm,” he hums.

Crane grabs your breast roughly and squeezes, digging his nails into your soft skin. You hiss and your face screws up with pain. He then slaps it repeatedly until you show signs of more discomfort.

“Please,” you beg again.

“It might be nice to have a friend at the DA’s office,” he says with a smirk. “Especially one that would bid in my favor, lest some dirty pictures get out.”

Blackmail? Jesus, he’s fucking sick. Though you suppose the threat of releasing them is better than him actually doing it.

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I’ll help you out, just please don’t send them,” you say frantically.

He fucks you even more erratically now, like he can’t decide if he should edge or finish himself off.

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice frighteningly low. You nod in response. “You’re scared of me, the loser you tormented in college? Don’t you regret that?”

He’s speaking so quiet and slowly like he’s trying to hypnotize you. You nod along with what he’s saying, figuring it’s better just to agree.

“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Every time you look at our bastard child, you’ll see my face and regret what you did to me.”

That catches your attention. Our child?

“W-what?”

“You thought I kidnapped you just to cum in my hand? I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking with my fucking cum. Oh, and you know that little pill you take every day? I switched that out weeks ago. This little womb is as fertile as ever, and you’re going to give me a baby.”

Your stomach flips and you immediately feel nauseous. He tampered with your birth control? That means he was in your house. He could have put cameras up, bugged the place. You have no idea what he’s truly capable of.

Tears being to stream down your cheeks again. You feel so violated, so helpless. He doesn’t wipe away your tears or even tell you to stop crying. He just watches as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he growls. “And you’re gonna take it all.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to yours, forcing you to look deep into his eyes as he fills you with his cum. The wet, hot feeling of it flooding your insides makes you feel sick, and he continues to fuck himself through his orgasm which makes the cum froth and leak down your holes.

He stays seated inside you, keeping you plugged so the sperm has time to take. Crane is breathing heavily but he doesn’t once look away from you.

"Good girl," he mutters. "Good pussy."

You sag in relief when he finally pulls out. Your cunt aches from his rough treatment, and not in the fun way. Your arms and legs hurt from the bonds, but that appears to be a pain you won't soon be free from.

Crane walks back over to the chair he was sitting in when you first woke up and takes a seat. "I'll keep you here for a couple days so you can't go off and take one of those pesky morning after pills," he says casually.

"Y-you can't. They'll notice when I don't show up for work," you try to reason with him.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I called on your behalf and told them you had a family emergency. Something about grandma and her heart," he says. "I've taken care of everything."

You don't doubt that he has, and that scares you. He rests his ankle on the opposite knee and looks at the pictures he took on the camera.

"Now all you have to do is stay out of my way in court, and no one will ever see these," he grins, letting the camera dangle from his wrist by the strap.

You nod in understanding. "Good girl."

[brunnerasposts]

"wait in the truck"

S.H. x Female Reader

Summary: Steve gets lost on a rainy night and finds you bruised and bloody on the side of the road. You get in his truck, and he drives to find who hurt you and make them pay.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: OUTSIDE OF ST STORYLINE, mentions of physical, verbal, and mental abuse, swearing, slight fluff, references to violence, strangers to friends

Additional Note: I haven't written any fanfiction in a hot minute so please bare with my writing ;(

"Thank you for listening to 94.7!" The radio suddenly blared once the static had stopped. Steve immediately reached for the volume knob, turning it down. He could barely focus with how loud the rain was pouring and how fast his windshield wipers were having to move. There hadn't been any indications that it would be raining soon, let alone a whole storm. "Jesus," He muttered under his breath, throwing his high beams on. What was worse than being stuck in a storm? Being stuck in a storm and having no idea where the hell you are.

He couldn't remember when he had gotten off track from the directions being repeated consistently by the GPS. Maybe it was when he needed gas? Steve gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, agitated with himself for being so careless. His eyes squinted as he leaned forward, hoping that would help him see the road in front of him better. He was mainly concerned with hitting anything or anyone.

His eyes suddenly stopped squinting as he noticed a figure in the distance. It was a person. Maybe they could help him find out where he was. Relief washed over him as he drove closer. His relief soon turned to confusion as he began to realize this figure was walking away from him in the rain. It didn't look like they had a coat or anything.

He drove a bit faster to catch up with them before slowing down to a stop. He rolled his window down, realizing it was a woman. "Excuse me, Miss, I was wondering if you could help me out here." He asked, hoping to sound as nice as he possibly could. After all, it was the middle of the night and he was a man in a vehicle while she was alone and in the rain.

"I'm a little lost," He admitted, "I could drive you to wherever it is you're going in return. You could get sick being out there like that."

She stopped walking, keeping her head down so her hair blocked her face. "You're being awfully nice for a guy stuck out in a storm." Her voice was shaky, her accent thick. Steve couldn't help but smile, shaking his head. "Just trying to be nice."

The girl lifted her head to look at him, causing Steve's breath to hitch.

The first thing he noticed was that she was absolutely fucking beautiful. He had never seen such eyes. If it weren't raining and dark, he'd probably end up staring a lot longer than he had been. Her eyes were wide, tired, and had little life to them.

The longer he looked at her, the more his smile fell and turned into a scowl. Her lip was swollen with a bleeding cut going from the bottom to top lip. She had bruises all along the sides of her head and near one of her eyes. Her tank top did little to cover the cuts and bruises lining her arms. She held herself, shaking, eyes and nose red from the rain and from crying. She had been through hell. It didn't take long before Steve was reaching across and opening the door, having made up his mind. "Climb in,"

She complied.

He turned the car lights on, watching her as she buckled herself in. Her tank was torn up, dried blood splotches near her stomach area. "What happened?" He couldn't help but ask. She stared at him and was silent for a while. Her whole body trembled, so Steve reached for the heat and turned it on. He then reached into the back seat and grabbed a blanket, handing it to her.

"I..uh," She sniffled, "I was home and trying to fix this light. Couldn't reach it, so I grabbed this ol' ladder and ended up falling down the stairs." She told him, avoiding eye contact as she bundled herself up. "Thank you."

"Stairs, huh?" He asked, not really believing her story. She nodded a little, fiddling with something on her hand. He glanced at it before shifting into drive, turning the light back off in the car.

"This probably isn't any of my business, but couldn't your husband have fixed the light?" He asked, looking for any other roads besides the one they were on.

He slowed the car as he heard her begin to shift, pulling at her finger. She continued to pull until the ring came off, shakily placing the ring on the dashboard. Steve turned the light on again, looking at the blood covered ring. His attention shifted to her hands, seeing bruises of all sorts.

This wasn't just falling down a flight of stairs.

He inspected her face, noticing the watered-down blood that surrounded her mouth. Her watery eyes focused on the ring she had set down. "He's no husband of mine." She whispered.

Steve wasn't one to get involved in other people's business, but too many clues were adding up. He turned his GPS off, accelerating ever so slightly. He found a point in which he could make a u-turn, hand gripping the wheel. They didn't talk for a while. Not until they reached roads that branched off.

"Where is he?"

There was silence for a while, the woman hesitant to speak. "Home." She soon admitted, looking at her lap. "Drunk."

His suspicions had been correct then.

Some light came into view as they approached scattered "landmarks." A gas station, a diner, and a bar. Steve still was unsure of where he was, but he could tell it was a very small town.

"Make a right near that gas station." She spoke quietly, Steve putting his turning signal on. "Which house?" He asked, turning onto the road. "It's at the very end of the road." She told him. Steve nodded and continued driving.

His eyes moved everywhere as he drove. He looked at the road, his rear view mirror, his speedometer, the woman next to him, pretty much anything to keep his mind occupied. The idea of what this woman could have gone through was sending his blood pressure through the roof. He didn't care that she was a complete stranger to him, he just knew she needed help. And he was more than willing to put her mind at ease.

"Are you gonna hurt him?"

He could feel her eyes on him now, but he didn't look over. "It depends." He spoke, spotting the house in the distance. He turned his lights off, driving slowly. "Do you love him?" He asked as he parked, now turning to look at her. Even in the darkness of the car, he could see her uncertainty. He gently reached his hand out, palm facing up so she could put her hand in his.

The woman was hesitant, but she placed her hand in his. "I promise he isn't going to bother you again. Now, wait in the truck." He said before opening the car door. Steve shut the door behind himself and opened the door to the backseat.

"What if he hurts you?" She asked in a panic as he grabbed his pistol and his baseball bat.

"He won't."

Steve went to close the door, but she quickly exclaimed, "Wait," and Steve stopped. "What's your name?" She asked, gripping the blanket around herself now. He couldn't help but smile a little, glad she was finding comfort in his things. "Steve. Steve Harrington."

"Y/N Letcher." She introduced herself. "Mr. Harrington, why are you helping me?" She asked, Steve simply shaking his head in response. "Just wait in the truck." He told her, closing the car door. Rain continued to fall, making his once nicely kept hair into a mop on his head. For once, he couldn't care less. He walked up the gravel driveway, each crunch under his shoe, giving him the confidence to walk up and pound on the door.

If he was being completely honest, he couldn't even answer her question. He wasn't entirely sure why he was involving himself in another person's business other than the fact that she was in trouble and needed help. He didn't approve of this kind of behavior, and he needed to make sure this man never hurt anyone ever again.

The door cracked open, a man in a white wife beater and jeans standing with a cigarette in his mouth. "Mr. Letcher?" Steve asked.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mr. Letcher asked, scratching at his beer covered stomach. At least Steve thought it was beer. Steve grinned at the man through the screen door. "You got company?"

"Who's askin'?" The man spat, his accent thicker than his wife's. Steve twiddled with his baseball bat, opening the screen door which startled the man. He then held the baseball bat against his shoulder, grinning.

"Harrington. Steve Harrington."

---

"Harrington, you've got a visitor."

Steve rolled his shoulders before sitting in his designated chair, glaring at the officer behind him. He adjusted his wrists, looking to the phone on the wall. Taking it, Steve held it against his ear and looked through the glass.

"Your bruises seem to be almost healed."

"I hardly even notice them anymore." She smiled, more lively than he had last seen her. Steve took the time to really look at Y/N. Bruises almost gone, no blood, no cuts, just healing. Healing in so many ways.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Me? I'm doing perfectly fine, Mr. Harrington. I should be asking that."

Steve chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright in here. If I can survive one month, I can survive another eleven." He grinned a little until he noticed that her eyes cast down to the handcuffs on his wrists. "I'm proud to be here, Y/N. Please don't blame yourself." He said, watching as she slowly nodded.

"I won't. I just...I still don't understand why. Why help me? You could've just driven me somewhere and dropped me off and...that would be it." Y/N whispered into the phone. Steve's eyebrows furrowed with concern, leaning closer.

"I helped because I couldn't imagine what would've happened to you if I didn't." He frowned, gently placing his finger against the glass. She did the same. "He won't hurt you anymore. He can't," Steve promised, "And I promise the second I'm out of here, I'm gonna make sure you never have to worry about him again."

The woman laughed softly, gazing at Steve. "You've done more than enough for little ol' me, Mr. Harrington." She promised. "It's funny, when people ask me about what happened, I never know how to describe you. I keep wanting to call you an angel, but I don't know if an angel would've done what you did."

Steve chuckled. "I'm sure they wouldn't."

She stared at Steve for a little, glancing to the officer who gave her a minute warning. "Steve?"

Slightly surprised by the use of his first name, he sat up. "Yes?"

"Because of you, I can sleep peacefully, knowing I'll never be hit again. Thank you, darlin'. Thank you." Y/N smiled, eyes watery.

Steve nodded before they both returned their phones to their places. Steve didn't want to move. He just wanted to keep looking at her to know that she was okay now. But he knew.

As he watched her walk away, he knew that she was going to be just fine.

The End.

[cyberjam]

THE ANGEL AND THE DEVIL | tangerine x reader

headcanons based off of this request on tangerine being the absolute softest boyfriend to his absolute sweetheart of a partner.

warnings - a little suggestive(?), mentions of violence

word count - 3.8k

song - no ordinary love - sade ⌁

main masterlist !!

tan - 🍊 | lem - 🍋 | you - 🍑

- HOW YOU MET -

- it's very cliché, but you two met at a café.

- it was exceedingly early in the morning.

- you usually didn't work this late (or early). your shifts were usually in the middle of the day, when the sun was shining brightly and the customers would pop in to work on their own separate projects.

- and you would've been working that shift, if a coworker of yours didn't ask you to fill in for her.

- you agreed to do it without a second thought, you were always pretty fond of helping people out whenever they needed it.

- just to see them smile in relief or to hear them praise you for being a 'saint' always made you feel warm inside.

- the harsh rainfall that occurred outside didn't bother you a single bit. you enjoyed the rain more than sunny weather, just the sound of the repeated pitter-patter beating against the window like an angelic tune soothed you like no other.

- you didn't really expect anyone to come into the coffee shop this early in the day, especially with how harsh the weather was. so, you were rather surprised to see a regular customer and what you assumed was his counterpart, enter the shop.

- lemon had become a regular after trying a slice of banoffee pie.

- you liked his name, you thought it was sort of silly to see such an intimidating man rock a name like lemon.

- you expressed your love of his name to him one day and he ended up giving you a nickname himself.

- "lemon, hi! it's so nice to see you. - 🍑

- "mornin', peach. this's ma twin brotha', tangerine." - 🍋

- you didn't admit it out loud but as soon as you made eye contact with him, you felt your stomach erupt like a volcano and your cheeks started to get warm at the sight of him.

- "hello! s'nice to meet you." - 🍑

- tangerine paused for a moment before gently nodding at you.

- to say he was caught off-guard by your gorgeous smile and kind eyes would be an understatement.

- he felt robbed.

- he went his entire life without knowing who you were and now that he's seen you he doesn't want to look away.

- you captivated him to say the least.

- "im guessing you'll have the regular?" - 🍑

- "yeah, but make it double." - 🍋

- as you were fixing their order, lemon and tangerine engaged in a small convo.

- "thas' peach, yeah?" - 🍊

- "yeah, real sweetheart'. makes the best banoffee pie. next time we come you outta try it." - 🍋

- tangerine only hummed as he kept his eyes focused on you. he couldn't really understand why you were so captivating to him.

- your aura was just so...soft and alluring.

- and your voice was simply just enchanting.

- it made him sick.

- he just met you, and there barely was any introduction.

- he shouldn't feel so…..entranced by you.

- he doesn't want to feel this way about you.

- just one look at you and he could tell that you were the type of person to burst into tears if someone even slightly raised their voice at you.

- how pathetic.

- you weren't soft or alluring to him. no.

- you were weak.

- he felt pity for you if anything.

- there was just no possible way he could be attracted to someone so...feeble.

- right? ..

- THE CRUSHING STAGE -

- he'd constantly tell himself that you're just some pathetic cafe worker, that held no importance to him.

- yet he can't seem to find the will to stay away from you.

- ever since he saw you behind that counter for the first time, an unfamiliar flutter started to thrash around in his chest and stomach.

- that feeling that he hated oh so much, only came around when he saw you.

- he despised you for it.

- but he also despised himself for not putting a stop to his visits.

- he could've easily gotten lemon to start picking up their orders once again, but then that meant he wouldn't be able to see you.

- and the urge to see you was too strong for him to resist.

- his thoughts would constantly scold and taunt him as he'd make his way to the cafe you worked at.

- his mind was telling him no, and saying that he should stay away from you. but his heart and body were screaming at the top of their lungs. begging and pleading to be around you.

- even if it was just for a small fleeting moment.

- sooner or later, you began to notice a spike in visits from tangerine.

- usually it'd just be lemon.

- but after you met tangerine, you started to see the both of them.

- and then it eventually just became tangerine.

- even though you missed the playful banter you and lemon would have, being able to see tangerine nearly everyday had to have been one of the sweetest treats you've ever received.

- tangerine was a bit more gaudy than the men you usually took an interest in.

- he was a rude and violent individual.

- there'd even be certain times where you'd cringe whenever he'd enter the shop.

- with the way he spoke to people you'd think he was completely nullified of any type of manners or emotions besides anger.

- until he started interacting with you.

- he'd talk to a random customer like this:

- "just grab ya fuckin' donut and go, ya cunt." - 🍊

- but as soon as he arrived at the counter and made eye-contact with you, his entire demeanor would change.

- " hey, how ya doin', love?" - 🍊

- his tone was completely different and his deeply furrowed eyebrows that were usually partnered with an annoyed frown were now nowhere to be found.

- it always made you feel more giddy than usual to see him turn on such a sweet persona for you.

- the interactions between you two were always fairly quick.

- greet each other, give him his order, and then send him off with a friendly wave and shy smile.

- it was a rather simple exchange, but it never failed to make your heart flutter.

- after a short while you'd start writing encouraging words on their to-go cups with a cute little animation on the side, hoping to brighten their day.

- have the best day today!! ♡ৎ(˶ ⍤ ˶)

- see you next time. this one was made with extra love! ૮ ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ა

- i loved that tie you wore last time! blue looks nice on you. ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎

- i hope lemon is doing well, i don't see much of him anymore. tell him i said hi. (๓´͈ ˘ '͈๓)

- on a particularly empty day in the cafe, tangerine decided to approach you about the sweet messages you wrote.

- "if i didn' know any better i'd think you were flirting wit' me." - 🍊

- you were embarrassed, because in a way you were.

- "i just thought encouraging words could be a helpful pickup for you." - 🍑

- before tangerine could reply, a man quickly rushed to the cash register that you were in front of and started shouting at you.

- "i told ya' 'm 'n a fuckin' rush! stop yer goddamn chit-chat and make my fuckin' order ya lazy harlot." - #!

- you were embarrassed. it wasn't the first time someone had talked to you like that, but the man said that in-front of your favorite customer, a person that you had taken a romantic liking to.

- "ah, im so sorry, sir. i-." - 🍑

- but before you could even finish your sentence, tangerine had already grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and had his face smushed against the counter top.

- you jumped back in shock, letting out a little yelp of fear as you brought your hands up to cover your mouth.

- "apologize to the lady and i won't beat ya' to a bloody pulp." - 🍊

- his voice was eerily calm as he held the man against the countertop.

- his eyes were blown wide open, a burning ferociousness present in his irises as he held the man against the countertop.

- "i-im sorry. please, jus' let me go." -#!

- the man's voice cracked and drool dribbled from his mouth as he was being held against the counter top. his once pale skin started to turn pink as he pathetically whimpered out apologies.

- tangerine looked towards you, his once burning gaze softening at your frightened stature.

- "you accept 'is apology?" - 🍊

- you froze before quickly nodding, afraid that if you spoke up, you'd stutter.

- that's all it took before tangerine released the man. his hands that were once forcing the perpetrator against the countertop were now fixing the cuffs on his suit.

- the stranger didn't even look at your face once he was released from tangerines hold, he immediately ran out of the cafe, leaving his money and food behind. (as well as a bit of dignity. if he had any left)

- tangerine grabbed a napkin that was nearby and wiped the drool off the counter, he even started picking up cups and stray napkins that fell off the counter top from the aggressive dispute.

- "you-um, you didn't have to do that." - 🍑

- he paused in his steps and stared at you for a brief moment.

- having him look so deeply into your eyes made you weak in the knees and slightly fearful of what his next move could be, in that moment you simply regretted speaking.

- "and just let 'em talk to you like that?" - 🍊

- he scoffed before shaking his head, throwing the used tissues away and leaning against the counter top to get closer to you.

- you lightly flinched as he reached his hand towards your face which made him 'tsk' at your jumpiness before cupping your cheek and wiping away a stray tear.

- "pretty girls like you don't deserve to be treated that way." - 🍊

- you didn't even realize that you were leaning into his touch until he brought his hand away.

- "have a g'day, peach." - 🍊

- you were awestruck at the events that occurred in the past 5 minutes, but as soon as you were able to recollect yourself you had decided then and there that you would show your appreciation for him the next time he came.

- and what better way to show your appreciation for someone other than baking them a tasty dessert?

- even though tangerine seems like the type of person to not like sugary things, you still ended up looking for a sweet treat to make him.

- and after some research you decided on making him a sizable amount of tangerine pudding. (in homage to his name.)

- you went to work earlier than usual to get started on your little project.

- the thought of making a new dessert that you've never tried to make before thrilled you, but the thought of making it as an appreciation gift for someone made it much more exhilarating and meaningful.

- it took a while to make it, but after a few failed attempts and small breaks to gather yourself, you had accomplished your goal of making one of the most perfect tangerine puddings imaginable.

- you were so happy and proud with your work, your excitement was almost able to erase any type of nerves you had.

- after admiring your work for a small moment you took a glance towards the clock and noticed how it was getting closer and closer to the time he'd usually arrive.

- once you fixed their usual order and put the pudding in the mini fridge under the counter that you were at, you patiently waited for tangerine.

- you didn't have to wait long, because just like clockwork, tangerine entered into the shop at the same time he usually did, looking as dashing as usual.

- you waved at him with a giddy smile, he returned a small genuine smile of his own while adjusting the lapels on his suit.

- "g'morning tan! i-uh, i made something special for you. i wanted to thank you for sticking up for me yesterday. i really appreciate it..." - 🍑

- you slid his usual order over to him before grabbing the pudding out of the mini fridge and setting it in front of him.

- "i don't know if you like sweet things, but i made you a tangerine flavored pudding." - 🍑

- tangerine couldn't help but let his once small smile grow into a wide grin.

- "really? you made all this for me?" - 🍊

- you nodded, biting your bottom lip to contain your excitement. (if only you knew how cute you looked to him.)

- he was about to bring the spoon up to his lips, but stopped himself before he could consume any.

- " do ya' wanna sit and enjoy it wit' me?" - 🍊

- "oh, i couldn't. im still on my shift and the reason i made it was for you to enjoy!" - 🍑

- "it won't be much of a treat if i don' have you there to enjoy it wit' me. 'ow bout i come back after your shift?" - 🍊

- "that...that would be great, yeah." - 🍑

- "good. until then, peach." - 🍊

- THE DATING STAGE -

- He has a very small and limited amount of tolerance for people.

- until it comes to you.

- Then he all of a sudden has all of the time and patience in the world.

- You could be drunkenly rambling about absolutely nothing and he'll just fondly look at you while gently rubbing your back, softly humming in agreement as if he understands anything you're saying.

- He adores taking you shopping.

- Just seeing you light up whenever you see a pretty dress or a stunning piece of jewelry will make him whip out his credit card at the speed of light.

- "ya' like that dress, bun? go try it on." - 🍊

- he'll make a whole day out of spoiling you.

- he'll sit back and sip champagne while you try on the most extravagant outfits that are made out of the finest material from all around the world.

- "get whateva' ya' want, sweets'." - 🍊

- tangerine also really enjoys picking out your outfits. especially for date night.

- he'll make sure you look nothing less than extravagant on your fancy dinner dates.

- he sometimes likes to match outfits, not too often though, it kinda throws him off and he simply just doesn't want to be that kind of couple.

- he'll only 'match' with you if it's solid colors. like black, blue, white/cream. nothing too bright or flashy.

- ladybug jokes around and often says tangerine's your sugar daddy.

- small side note, tangerine absolutely hates the dynamic you and ladybug have.

- ladybug and you have built a nice friendship over the years. you don't see him often, so whenever you do it's always a treat.

- tangerine would've already cut ladybugs arms off long ago, but you were always so pleased to see ladybug whenever you could, and how could he possibly strip you of something that brings you so much joy?

- ladybug is annoyingly spared...

- for now.

- you have caught tangerine on a couple occasions, casually slipping jewelry off of people and then offering it to you, in which you give him a disapproving look with your arms crossed.

- "it would suit you more, dove." - 🍊

- "tan, please go give that woman her bracelet back. i already have 4 just like that." - 🍑

- he'll glumly give the woman her bracelet back and tell her 'she dropped it' but you both know the truth.

- omg, any present that you give him will make him practically melt inside.

- he'll always amp up the gifts you give him, even if it's something he doesn't particularly like or care for.

- "what? you got this fa' me? love, ya' shouldn' have." - 🍊

- whole time it's an itchy ugly sweater that you saw while casually shopping.

- he'll never wear it on his own accord unless you ask him too. then he absolutely will, and he'll wear it with pride.

- why? because his baby got it for him.

- and lemon absolutely adores you more than anything.

- he treats you like his own little sister.

- he'll coddle you like you're the most fragile porcelain in the entire world.

- he gives the best bear hugs ever. he always holds you so tight, it's like being embraced by a warm, soft, cloud.

- lemon has an awful habit of casually barging into you and tangerines apartment without warning.

- let's just say, you and tangerine have learned to keep your intimate moments in the bedroom and lemon has learned to announce his arrival 3 minutes in advance through the phone.

- you and lemon tend to have long and deep meaningful conservations pretty often. you'll try to include tangerine and get his input on some things but he'll never interject.

- mainly, because he's still struggling to be vulnerable with the people he loves. it's a slow process but he's steadily getting there with the help of the two most important people in his life. :)

- you and lemon will talk about any and everything under the sun, from sports, to cooking shows, to disneyland, to funny little memories you've had in the past...basically everything!

- there's never a dull moment between you two.

- but along with being tangerines twin brother and growing up with him, they have some of the same characteristics.

- they both are extremely over protective of you.

- a few examples...

- ladybug says a joke out of hand while tangerine isn't around?

- he's getting a hard stare from lemon, that's partnered with a passive aggressive statement, and a warning pat on the shoulder.

- "oi, watch ya' mouth, yeah?" - 🍋

- you're walking to the grocery store and someone roughly bumps into you?

- lemon will grab them by their shoulders before turning them towards you and asking telling them to apologize.

- some sleazy dirtbag is hitting on you?

- lemon is pulling tangerine off of his bloody unconscious body.

- all in all you basically have two bodyguards.

- theyre both very protective of you, especially tangerine.

- if you ever came home with cuts or bruises because someone assaulted you, he would absolutely see nothing but red.

- he loves you, but there couldn't be enough begging and pleading in the world from you that would stop him from unleashing his wrath on whoever hurt you.

- even if it was just a shitty family member who got too drunk, tangerine doesn't care.

- he'd clean you up first, run a bath for you, wash your hair, and even order food for you. he'll really hold and comfort you like no tomorrow.

- but once he knows you've fallen fast asleep and you show no signs of waking up anytime soon... he's getting himself dressed to go on a personal mission of his own.

- even with lemon and tangerines protection, they worry about you when they're not there.

- which is why they taught you how to defend yourself.

- every other saturday or so, tangerine (sometimes along with lemon) will teach you how to defend yourself.

- it's a pretty grueling process, even when they go easy on you.

- "cmon' you're not hurtin' anyone with those pillow punches, darling. now, again. hit me." - 🍊

- "i-no. i don't wanna hurt you, tan." - 🍑

- "love, if ya' wanna be strong and able to defend yaself', ya have to train." - 🍊

- he says it so softly too :(

- he's always so gentle with you, it doesn't matter the situation or circumstance.

- if you're non-confrontational, he will bring certain things to your attention in the calmest way possible.

- he'll never address you aggressively or maliciously call you out of your name. he'd sooner die than treat you like he treats everyone else.

- it's honestly why arguments between you two don't happen often.

- you two get into disagreements sometimes but they've never led to shouting, storming out on each other, or throwing things out of anger.

- if you cry during one he will immediately drop it, doesn't matter what it's about, it couldn't have been that important.

- "no, no, no, dove. don't cry, m'sorry. please, don't cry," - 🍊

- he absolutely hates seeing you cry.

- it's like someone reached in his chest and physically tore his heart out and stomped on it infront of him. (a bit dramatic, but that's how he feels)

- he feels terrible.

- even if you're an overly-sensitive person and cry about nearly everything under the sun, he will still feel bad about making you cry.

- he never wants you to shed tears because of him. unless it's out of pleasure or pure happiness.

- and if someone else makes you cry?

- they will absolutely get the beating of a lifetime.

- there have been times random men have said incredibly rude things to you while tangerine was lingering around.

- it ends badly for them every time.

- it truthfully doesn't matter who it is.

- if tangerine even gets the slightest hint that you were upset by something someone said, he's making sure they're getting pulled out of the establishment in a stretcher.

- he tries his best not to bring his normally hot-headed attitude around you, but sometimes people are able to press just the right buttons that get him all riled up and now he's on edge.

- you can always tell when he's on edge.

- he's a bit more aggressive when he does mundane tasks and he's quietly cursing under his breath while roughly running his hands through his hair.

- "stupid cunt, he's lucky i ain' shoot 'em in front of 'is wife and kids." - 🍊

- and he's doing the dishes...^

- over time you've learned how to easily and quickly calm him down from his little tantrums.

- there are many different ways you could go about calming him down, but the easiest and most effective way is just beckoning him to come lay down on the couch/bed with you and giving him a head rub.

- little moments where you can just relax and hold each other are his all time favorites.

- you have a very comforting smell and presence that just immediately draws him to you.

- sometimes if his missions last longer than he'd like them to, he'll sneak one of your favorite bottles of perfume in his suit jacket.

- he won't use it, he'll just smell the inside of his jacket, it makes him feel comforted, like you're right next to him.

- but missions are always hard, it's just something you both won't ever get used to...

- you'll usually send the boys away by baking them a nice, sweet, tasty treat. it differs from pie, muffins, cupcakes, beignets, and much more.

- tangerine and lemon are both extremely comforted by your baking. they absolutely love it and talk about it quite often on their missions.

- "lucky bastard you are. if ma' girl could bake like this i'd marry her on the spot." - 🍋

- "sooner or later." - 🍊

- he's actually so whipped for you it's insane at this point.

- one of tangerines' favorites things to do is tease you.

- but not in a patronizing way.

- he just likes to see you get flustered, it gives him an incredibly huge confidence boost.

- he'll call you every pet-name under the sun to see you get all bashful and cute for him.

- "ya' look gorgeous as always, dove."

- "c'mere, bun."

- "sleep well, darling."

- "such a pretty thing you are."

- he knows it makes you feel a certain way and he finds it so adorable when you shy away from him because you're too nervous to look him in the eye.

- tangerine likes to act like he isn't completely whipped and in love with you, but he absolutely is.

- anything you ask for, he will get.

- you want a cat/dog even though he's allergic?

- it's all yours, just keep it out of the bedroom.

- you wanna go to paris?

- the hotel and flight are already booked, first class seats and a room with the most gorgeous view.

- you want him to bake with you even though he's not that good in the kitchen?

- the supplies are out and he's already wearing his 'kiss the cook' apron.

- overall, you truly are the love of tangerines life and he would rather die than to ever see you walk away from him.

- he protects you with his life, and he will continue to do so, until death do you part.

this one was much longer than my last one. this was a request from my lovely moot @kpopgirlbtssvt . i hope you enjoy, love!

- bunnie ᘏ⑅ᘏ

[lifeandlies-of-regulusblack]

Honey, you bring the worst out of me ♥️

JEGULUS. Enemies to enemies in lust with each other. Toxic, mutual obsession. Jegulus who hate each other's guts. None of them are good to each other and they don't try. CW: SMUT AT THE END. According to James, Regulus is a death sentence. Poor guy.

Jegulus who spit in each other's mouths.

James and Regulus who tolerate each other for Sirius' sake.

James, who tells Regulus to let his brother go, if he ever truly loved him. Who tells Regulus to stop being selfish and set Sirius free. That when Sirius looked to the future, he was facing James. Not him.

Regulus, who taunts James because he can never be just Sirius' brother. That Sirius' outright refusal to choose between them is because he can't love James enough to fill the hole Regulus will leave in his life. Sirius is stuck right in the middle and it was James, who Sirius felt needed to be reminded — that he wouldn't choose between them.

Jegulus who inevitably end up bloodied and battered by each other's fists. Hands gripping the other close as they peer into each other's eyes. Resentment. Loathing. Themselves. They see perfectly as they look.

James, who hates the way Regulus puts himself above others as he says it's his birthright to do so. He's sick of the surety in Regulus' calm admittance that he only cares about the people he loves, the rest be damned.

Regulus, who loathes Potter's insistence that his every moral thought be followed. He watches as James proudly proclaims that people can simply be beaten and fought into submission until they know right from wrong. Regulus who takes sick, sick pleasure as he casts a deep cutting curse the moment James decides he couldn't stomach Regulus' indifference.

Regulus, who realizes that no one can ever make his blood sing the way James does whenever their fires burn in each other's presence.

—

James, who dreams about pale skin with deep, purple bruises he put on there. He thinks of how he'd love to see more of it. More skin. More bruises.

Regulus who takes satisfaction in seeing the scar his curse leaves on James' brown skin. He thinks, he should've cut deeper.

—

Jegulus who look for each other everywhere. Who wait for each other every time. Who feel the violence singing, calling to each other. And, something else — the urge to maim, to mark, to hurt, to touch.

James who won't let anyone near Regulus because he doesn't deserve that kind of love, while the other merely steals away the people attracted to James' burning. Regulus is a star, he burns brightly too. James can starve. They orbit each other, just as well as they keep people away from each other. They've done well in making sure they don't have anyone else but themselves.

—————•

Regulus, who, upon graduation, decides he wants to study in France, then Germany, then... Then Egypt. Sirius sees him off with a tight hug, afraid to let his brother go so far, for so long. Remus is standing steady just beside Sirius ready to catch him after Regulus leaves, while Peter quietly takes a picture of the two brothers' first, real goodbye.

And James is there. Staring. Hungry. Left unsatisfied. Regulus simply decided there was nothing to stick around for. James was unworthy of much else.

—

Regulus hears the bustling of a foreign city, well awake late into the night, outside his bedroom window. Paris. Regulus really did it. Tomorrow, he'll be gone, off to a small province in the country to look for a woman who they say teaches potions only to five people every four years. Perenelle Flamel is a madwoman, and whatever happens, she'll be teaching six instead of five. He'll make sure.

Regulus looks into the future with hunger. Ambition ringing through him, pushing, pulling.

But also, right now, alone with himself —

(tan skin, mocking smiles, derisive sneers, and hands that could bruise. words he knew to expect, deflect, and return with the same ugliness. his blood running hot at the sight of him, as they respond to each other merely being in the same room. he wants to mark him.)

He's bored.

—

The crack of apparition jolts Regulus awake. It's 2 am and he's in Berlin. He smiles.

"You left."

"Five months ago, yes, I did. You were there. So your savage brain finally caught up, good for you. What? Couldn't take it?"

"You left with unfinished business, you ran like a coward."

Hmm?

"I left because you were a bore."

—

Regulus will not moan. He will not clench around James' length as the other man grunts over him, hitting his prostate again and again. He will not give any sign of his pleasure away. Regulus decides right in the throes of ecstasy, that James will hunger for what he can't have. His toes curl and he fights to remain cold, careless, and spiteful.

"You're shaking, you know? Quivering like the slut you are," James whispers into his ear, the last few words tapering into a rough moan. The man has set a relentless pace, merely pinning Regulus down into his bed, only exerting enough effort to free himself and sink into Regulus' hole. James pauses, choosing to do so with a harsh thrust in, before grinding deeper, making sure he's pressing up into that one spot that has Regulus spasming — legs cramping underneath the man's weight as he twitches. He can't help it, he opens his mouth to let out desperate heaving breaths.

"There we go," James smiles into his shoulder.

Hands grip onto his hips tight enough to bruise, and careless enough to have nails digging into his flesh, and James goes right back to fucking him as hard as he can.

Regulus moans, "No, stop." He fucking hates this, giving James any sort of satisfaction. He fucking hates it. But he's been fighting every single spasm for so long his body's simply seizing up as it gives in to the onslaught of James' hard fucking. His own cock is trapped beneath his body, sensitive to the damp sheets as he's been leaking copiously, precum fucked out of him, and it's a harsh sensation to a warm cock, teetering to orgasm.

He's caught, pinned down, no — held down. And James won't stop.

A hand roughly grabs on to the back of his neck, pushing his face down as James props himself up to change angles. It's awful it's too much. Regulus opens his mouth, he breathes cotton in, gasping for breath. Muscles tighten into familiar spasms and he can feel his legs cramping against James'.

"I'm gonna cum," he hears him say.

He's trapped. He can't help but feel the way James hammers inside of him, each time sparking delirious pleasure inside. It's too much and James, won't stop. He's relentless. Hungry.

It's the same hunger he baited since he left London for something else. The man fucking into him with wild abandon, Regulus thinks, came after him. All the way to Berlin. Thinking back to the day of his departure, he remembers seeing James' eyes over his brother's shoulder and knew he won.

He's not so sure now.

"Regulus," James moans.

Regulus comes first. And he comes screaming, as he whites out.

He hears smug laughter, and the fading sensation of a quickening pace as James fucks into him with vindictive glee.

—

He's beautiful, isn't he? James thinks as he looks down at the sleeping figure of Regulus Black. He was never really blind to the man's beauty, though knowing intimately how he goes about destroying people, it was just another part of him that he used as a weapon. It wasn't something James ever admired.

It was poisoned beauty and James was immune to the spectacle of it all.

"Passed out from a good fucking, you little slut."

All these years of relentless fighting. All the blood and bruises. The poison and venom. It all came down to this.

Granted, it was the best orgasm of his life. He's fucked men and women, separately, together, sometimes with someone else watching. All good fun. So he knows this was different, just from the way he needed to fuck Regulus — hungered and raged to be inside of him and hold him down, to have him, finally.

Still, now, as he looks at the man, he wants more. His fingers twitch at the desire to grab him awake and fuck him open again.

"I've marked you haven't I? Look at you and your precious little scar. Mangled and ugly, just like yourself. Did you keep it to remember me by? Did you like the way I made you bleed? Forget it. You followed me like a dog. A savage. To Berlin, you fucking idiot. You're mine now."

Hypocrite. Regulus had been leaving clues in all his letters to Sirius, well aware he'd be reading over his shoulder.

James knows that the hate is deep and mutual, having festered due to the person between them and their inability to love Sirius the way the other found acceptable, enough. They fight like wolves over the man they love more than themselves, a brother and a best friend.

And as men, outside of the person who brought them together, they're fundamentally (morally, socially, philosophically) incompatible. James cannot fucking stomach Regulus' inherent selfishness and ease of using cruelty to get what he wants. And he knows, he looks at James and sees someone he can get rid off.

Yet, like this, they inevitably, seek each other out.

You're mine.

What a death sentence.

When they're done with each other, James wonders what'll be left of them to salvage.

[juuuulez]

📰 | part eleven: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, slowburn, teenagers in love, blood and gore, descriptive injuries, not reeaallllyyy angst not really violence either, cute Judith.

summary: After being taken back to Hilltop for recovery, Carl plans something to help lift your spirits.

okay sorry for making you all wait with that cliffhanger!!!! next chapter is going to be soooooo pure and soft i’m promising you right now, i’m very excited to write it!

in other words…..i fear capulet may be coming to a close! we all know how the show went (😬) and though i don’t plan on killing off Carl, i’m curious as to where to take this….if anyone has something they wanna see, let me know!

-> masterlist <-

Everything moved so quickly, Carl struggled to make out what had just happened. You were there one second, gone the next, body limp on the concrete. The mere idea of something fatal made his stomach churn, heart clenching in his chest with pure panic.

He was panting, overwhelmed and stressed, now by more than just the raid. It didn’t take long to rush over, finding that truck you’d been hiding behind, his knees colliding roughly with the concrete as he came to kneel and assess the situation.

The gunfire faded away, as all Carl could hear was his heartbeat in his ears. His hands were trembling as he finally tried to touch you, rolling your body over onto your back, taking note of your unconscious state.

Red stained the side of your head, goopy blood soaked into your hair, pooling on the ground. He wiped some splatter from your cheek, terrified with the notion of baring a disfiguring injury. As his hand smoothed down your head, he felt a shallow groove along the side of your skull, gory and disgusting.

But it appeared the bullet skimmed past, wedging itself into the ground or a building or whatever, it didn’t even matter. Carl let out a hesitant sigh of relief with this realisation, pressing his hand firmly to the side of your skull, trying to stop the bleeding. He cringed at the bumpy expanse of where your ear had been completely taken off.

“Dad!” Carl yelled out, uncaring of giving away his position, just needing some sort of assistance. Each second they spent on the floor, panic welled up inside, growing distraught at the idea of doing nothing.

When no response came, Carl was about to yell again, somehow even louder. Fortunately, he turned to find Michonne approaching, having been alerted by his urgency.

“She needs help,” He tells her, though it’s blatantly obvious, with the dark red blood pooling on the floor. “We have-.. we have to do something, we can do something.”

Michonne comes to kneel besides Carl, though she’s looking out at the carnage, gun poised at the ready, the one she’d recently learnt how to shoot. She shakes her head, glancing down at your body, before continuing to keep watch.

“We can’t,” She says with emphasis, though her heart pangs at the distraught look on Carl’s face, eyes practically pleading with her. “He wouldn’t do this for you. For anyone.”

“This isn’t about him!” Carl yells, uncaring of his volume. His arms are already under your shoulders, trying to lift your limp form. Blood coats the side of your head and neck, pooling on your collarbone, getting all over Carl’s flannel as he tries to balance you.

He’s sick of it being about Negan. He’s sick of this war, of his family being threatened, of the people he cares about dying. It ends here.

Somehow, Michonne gives in, knowing she’d never be able to pry Carl away from your body. “Okay, okay,” She sighs, “Get her into the truck, and stay there. Someone will clot the bleeding. I’ll get your father.”

Carl doesn’t even ask questions, doesn’t wait to continue the conversation, already halfway standing before Michonne has finished speaking. He hauls your body up, awkwardly fumbling for a moment before he finds a more secure position, where he can bring you along to (supposed) safety.

Everyone knew of your reputation, and were reluctant to help. The doctor at Hilltop had tried to refuse, claiming to be uncomfortable with the suggestion, and Carl was amidst arguing when Rick returned.

Though sceptical, Rick decided that saving you would make great leverage. That your wounds were to be patched up, yet you’d remain at Hilltop, as hostage, until he could broker a deal with Negan over radio. If your health was at risk, then he wouldn’t come in guns blazing.

That, and Rick made it very clear that if anything went wrong, your ass was out with the walkers. Carl was sceptical, he didn’t think his father could be so cold, but considering all you’d done… maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched.

Turns out, the bullet had scraped past your head, leaving a nasty gash along your skull. It was easily stitched up, but would definitely leave a scar. The worst part: your entire left ear was gone. Shot clean off. It appeared that your eardrum had burst along with it, resulting in what would likely be long-term hearing loss from that side.

Your waking was slow, groggy and half-coherent the first few hours, though they granted you the reprieve of some heavy-duty pain medicine to ease the splitting headache. It was Rick who explained everything to you, and if you were capable of it, you would have attacked him. He knew that, too. Hence why you were handcuffed to the bed.

Mostly, you were angry at being captured. At being played, like a pawn in their stupid feud. At Carl avoiding you. The second you’d regained consciousness, he’d split, avoiding your little room at all costs. Yet, you knew he was here. He’d left his flannel behind, draped over your chest, which you were somewhat grateful for, given the flimsy tank you wore, braless and leaving little to the imagination.

Days passed. At least, you thought so, you weren’t allowed outside. To go to the bathroom, you had to ask through radio, and someone would come to un-cuff and supervise you. The whole situation was humiliating.

What was taking Negan so long? You missed him. Clearly, they were demanding something unreasonable, something that Negan couldn’t agree with. But surely you were worth it. You hoped so, anyway, after everything that had happened.

Eventually, after days of driving yourself crazy, the door opened. It was a small room, the interior of a stationary caravan, you thought. Nowhere to hide, that meant. Usually, when someone visited, it was in an attempted interrogation, or to watch closely while you ate the bare-bones meal they’d provide. You grit your teeth, that rude, uncaring attitude bubbling up again. Truthfully, you’re reaching breaking point here.

That doesn’t change when Carl finally enters.

He stands awkwardly at the doorway for a moment, something clasped tightly in his fist. Despite you wearing his flannel, he has another one on, a darker grey. How many of these does he have?

You don’t speak as he approaches, maybe wanting to give him the silent treatment. But neither does he. Slowly, Carl comes to stand beside your bed, unfurling his fist to offer something to you.

A small ringlet with a set of metal keys.

Immediately you reach out, trying to secure the bounty, but Carl pulls his hand away, keeping the keys out of reach.

In response to your venomous glare, he speaks slowly, words firm and stern. “No running off.” He tells you.

When you give no response, Carl takes it as understanding, moving cautiously as he slots the small key into the metal frame of your cuffs, releasing your wrist and letting them dangle from the bed frame.

The second Carl pulls away, you lunge at him. He reacts swiftly, hands grasping at your wrists, pushing you back against the bed. “Asshole!” You yell, squirming in his hold, desperate to be freed and far from here.

“Stop moving.” He commands, surprisingly strong, and just his tone is enough to force you into momentary submission, stilling against his hold.

You glare up at him, all those dirty emotions bubbling up since your capture. “This is your fault, isn’t it? Getting me kidnapped?” You brazenly accuse.

“You weren’t kidnapped,” Carl retorts, “I just didn’t want you bleeding out on the concrete—”

“Fuck you!” You cut him off, shamelessly yelling in his face. It seemed childish, like you were ungrateful of being saved, but for some stupid reason.. Carl liked that. He liked how aggressive you were. It felt good to be challenged.

“Do you want to get out of here, or not?” He finally asks, giving the slightest inkling of what he’s here for. Just the suggestion causes your mind to tick, and Carl knows he’s won by the look on your face.

He lets go of your wrists, and luckily, you don’t immediately try to escape. It’s clear he’s won you over, so Carl unclips the handcuffs, reattaching them to his belt for future use. Your eyes linger on them for a moment, wondering if he’d really cuff you, unsure whether that made you angry or excited.

“C’mon, up.” Carl commands, offering a hand to you. A moment of suspicion passes, before you just take it, letting Carl help you from the bed.

The first thing he notices is your sense of balance, which has been certainly fucked. You lean a little to the left side, prompting Carl to bracket your shoulders, trying to keep you upright. “There we go.” He mumbles when you find your footing, causing you to glare up at him.

The hostile reaction makes Carl grin, clearly amused, which does nothing to curb your attitude.

Somehow, there isn’t anybody guarding your door. It was locked, but Carl had the keys, so he quietly ushered you from the room. Avoiding the main gates, and consequently, any onlookers, Carl took you out towards Hilltop’s back, where a small opening in one of the walls let the pair of you sneak out.

A rusty car was parked against the wall, causing your brows to furrow in confusion, stopping on the path. You were suddenly hit with this wave of guilt. It must have been obvious, as Carl turned around, already opening the car door.

“Just a bit farther, I promise.” Carl tried to urge you along, satisfied when you gave in and got inside. You twisted in the passenger seat, alerted by the sudden cooing from behind you. Buckled into the back was Judith, who reached her chubby hand in your direction.

“Sorry,” He begun to apologise, “I couldn’t get out of babysitting. She won’t bother us.”

You smiled, resting sideways in the seat with your knees up, reaching out to meet her hand. She eagerly took it, squeezing the appendage with chubby fingers. “It’s okay.” You assured Carl.

The car vibrated as it started, the engine making a disturbing noise, but it ran nonetheless. Seemingly having a destination in mind, Carl drove down the dirt path, taking you away from Hilltop. It wasn’t necessarily a long drive, but you didn’t speak, aside from a few hushed mumbled as you entertained Judith’s blabbering.

Eventually he stopped near the treeline, thick shrubbery decorating the edge of the road. The car pulled over, and when Carl got out, he made an effort to haul a large branch in front of it, hoping the slight cover would deter any stragglers from picking it up. Clearly, he’d thought this out.

“Coming?” He asked when you remained still, already having picked Judith up from her seat, and was descending down a small slope past the bushes.

You felt inclined to follow, curious as to what this entire trip was about. As you stepped through the shrubs, you were reminded of your skewed balance, not quite steady. Fortunately, you made it down the hill without any casualties.

Carl walked a few meters ahead, placing Judith down, and revealing his plan. The sight made you shake your head, brows pinching in this weird mix of irritation and appreciation.

“You suck.” You grit out, giving Carl that same unamused expression, which only makes him smile harder.

He leaves Judith on a soft plaid picnic blanket, already decorated with crayons and paper, to which she eagerly grabbed at. There was a bag, too, and you wondered what was inside, though the mere thought that Carl had set this up made your heart clench, not sure how to interpret the gesture.

“Just sit down. Enjoy it while it lasts,” Carl advised you, taking your hand to tug you along towards the blanket, “We’ll be fighting again before you know it.”

Against your better judgement, you obeyed, a soft smile on your face.

Maybe you could do with a break.

[shelby-fangirl00]

Good for you-part two

previous part

This is a bit short but oh well :) I’m super new to writing for dark!tommy so please be patient with me lol. Some of you amazingly talented writers have inspired me to try it out. please leave me some feedback on the story, I love to hear from you! If any of you veteran Tommy writers have advice for me, shoot me a message!

warnings: swearing, manipulation, toxic/abusive tommy, sexual subjects, dark! tommy

You paced back and forth, biting your nails down to the skin. Racing thoughts of tonight’s unfortunate events replayed over and over in your head. You didn’t expect to be so affected by Tommy’s behavior. It wasn’t like you thought Tommy was a good person, you knew the kind of lifestyle he lived. Reality had finally begun to sink in. 

You were marrying into the notorious Shelby clan, a family bound together by power and violence. You weren’t even married yet and he had hurt you so deeply. Guilt ate away at you. You almost wished Tommy punished you instead of Stevie. But that’s what he wanted. He wanted to make you feel like this was all your fault. And it was working. What else could he be capable of?

The party had ended hours ago and you couldn’t sleep. Tommy had given you a separate room from his which you were a bit surprised by but gratful nevertheless. 

‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ His deep voice startled you. You didn’t know how long he had been standing there, watching you so obviously worrying in the darkness. You could barely see his face, but you’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

‘Sleep and I haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately.’ You chuckled, sitting down on the end of your small bed. He raised his eyebrows with a look of understanding. 

‘Sleep has never favored me, sadly.’ He sighed out as he slowly swayed to sit down a bit too close next to you. Your thighs barely rested against each other. He let his hand fold in his lap casually, like he hadn’t just done something so cruel.

  You hummed in agreement, gluing your eyes to the floorboards where both of your feet rested. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence rested between the two of you. Tommy knew why you were upset, but he wanted to see if you had enough courage to bring it up yourself. He was surprised when you did just that. 

‘Thomas, why did you do that tonight?’ You practically whispered into the mostly empty room. 

‘I told you why and you’re still questioning my decisions. A stranger decides to attend my engagement party and also comes onto my fiancé? He practically asked for it.’ He said casually and shaking his head, as if it was something that happened all the time. 

Stunned by yourself, you looked up to him, barely being able to make out his features in the darkness. 

‘He wasn’t coming onto me. He was just an old friend.’ 

You felt his hand grab your chin forcefully, pulling you inches away from his face. He devoured the pathetic yelp you let out in response, loving the way he scared you.   

‘Enough. Would you have preferred me to punish you?’ He growled out. 

In that very moment, it was as if the switch finally turned off in your brain and the repressed anger took over. You gritted your teeth, the darkness lending you the courage to speak.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ You sneered, the tone of your voice judging him harshly. 

He was a bit stunned. This was a side of you he had never seen. The smile he gave you in response made you feel sick. 

‘Oh, you’ve done it now.’ He laughed. Without a second thought, his hand grabbed your waist forcefully. His other hand pressed into your back, forcing you to lay your stomach flat against his thighs. He pushed your ass up to situate you onto his lap completely. You were bent over Tommy’s lap, completely vulnerable, but you didn’t dare move. 

‘Tommy, what are you doing?’ You said breathlessly, your eyes facing the floor. 

‘You’ve changed my mind. I do think I’d like to punish you. Now hold still.’ You couldn’t move, even if you wanted to. Your body was frozen in fear. Tommy had never touched you other than a few pecks on the cheek, let alone your bare ass.

You felt the fabric of your nightgown raise up and rest at the bottom of your back, exposing your ass to Tommy for the first time. You felt so violated. He had complete control over you. There was nothing you could do to get away from him. He was all too powerful.

You felt his warm hands rub your skin tenderly before landing a very harsh smack to your backside. You gasped loudly, mewling at the pain. He loved the little pants and moans you let out in response to his hands, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop. 

Another blow landed right after the first. Your legs jolted in response to the roughness of his hand. He hummed deeply in his chest at the squirming. He knew how humiliated you felt in this moment, but he didn’t care. He liked it, in fact. Tommy was mesmerized by your body. His eyes never left the curve of your ass, the way your thighs unknowingly rubbed together.The sinful sounds coming from her pretty mouth… Were you enjoying this? He thought to himself. 

His spankings were relentless and never-ending. Your cheeks were blotchy and irritated. Even the slightest graze became painful. You hissed, biting your lip as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. 

‘Tommy…please stop.’ You panted after he landed yet another smack to your ass. How embarrassing that you were being spanked like a child. Tommy rubbed the irritated skin, letting his hands fall down your ass and thighs. the heat that was gathering between your legs was undeniable. You felt his cock hardening from under your stomach, poking into you. You hated the way your body betrayed you, basking in the feeling of his fingers soothing your skin. 

‘Are you sorry, then? Tell me how sorry you are.’ His voice was sultry and full of lust. You were silent a few seconds too long, because he landed a firm smack to your ass once again. You were shaking at this point, feeling so fucking small under him. This was the life you had chosen. You were the property of Thomas Shelby from now on, not a person. Property. More tears streamed down your face. Your thoughts were so loud that you didn’t notice yourself sobbing into his lap. He had broken you down to nothing so easily and he was enjoying it. 

‘Alright, I’m sorry Tommy! I’m so sorry, p-please Tommy, I’m sorry!’ You cried out, unable to hide your emotions anymore. 

He smiled down at your body, satisfied with the state he had left you in. He gently lifted you back up to face him. He studied your pretty, pouty face, red and tear stained, eyes filled with desperation a a hint of intrigue.

The tears never stopped as he pulled you into his chest. At the first sign of affection, you crumbled into him, burying your head into his chest and wrapping your arms around his slim waist, squeezing tightly. His heart soared at the way you clung to him, begging him to forgive you. Pitifully, you wanted him to show you any type of love. Something inside of you needed to please him.

You wept into his chest as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you into his lap. You pulled your legs close to your chest as he held you there, swaying you back and forth, caressing your back gently.  

You loved the way he held you in the darkness, hoping he’d never let go. And you fucking hated that you did. You had always been needy for acceptance and now more than ever. 

‘Good girl. Of course, I forgive you, love. It’s all over now.’ He reassured you, still swaying back and forth in his warm and strong arms. 

‘Please don’t leave tonight, Tommy.’ You whispered into his chest. 

Without saying another word, he helped you ever so gently to lay down under the sheets. He pushed the hair from your face as he crawled into the bed beside you, pulling you into his chest. You oddly felt safe in his arms. His scent enveloped you like a warm blanket.

You felt his heart beating rapidly against your back but you were too overwhelmed by the previous events to be curious about it. 

 You snuggled into him, humming to yourself in satisfaction. Your sniffles were the only sound that filled the room.

‘If you ever talk to me like that again, I won’t be so easy on you. You understand?’ He whispered into your ear from behind, sending a shiver up your back. 

You shook your head sheepishly in response, too scared to speak another word tonight.

You loved the way his body felt pressed against yours. All of these rapidly changing emotions exhausted your body. Eventually, you let yourself drift off as he gripped your body gently into his. Tommy listened to your breathing steady out as you drifted off to sleep, happy that he was able to make progress with you tonight in his own demented way. You were his property and nobody touches what’s his. The closer the wedding day came, the more he was able to get you to submit to him.

Part two coming soon!

Taglist: @lyarr24

@forgottenpeakywriter

@casa-boiardi

@tigernach575

@crabat-the-queen

@adaydreamaway08

@oizyss88

@shelbyteller

@everysage

@yurmomsawh0r

@delusionalxoxo

@trixie23

@sunset24t

@star017

[astupidweeb69]

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 8

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Next Chapter: Part 9

Author’s Note: I know this chapter is a lot shorter than my previous one's but, I figured it was better than nothing. I might end up rewriting this to make it longer or something.

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Some threats of violence. (1,276 words)

___________________________________________________________

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said it so genuinely, like there was nothing wrong with the situation. Like he hadn’t taken you from your home, stalked you, tormented you, fucking bashed your head in with a baton. He said the words as if he was just a regular school boy confessing to his crush.

It made you sick to your stomach.

“Well? Are you guh-going to say something?”

He sounded impatient, as if you were the one in the wrong somehow. You looked up from the ground, his dark eyes and expression turning colder each second that passed.

“You’re insane.”

Wrong answer.

Toby’s face dropped, and with a heavy tension in the air, he raised his arm, his hand closing into a fist.

You prepared for the worst.

Then, Toby took a sharp breath, holding it for a moment, and exhaled. Slowly lowering his hand again. Trying to muster up the strength to not lash out, most likely.

“I’ll give you some time to warm up to me. I wuh-won’t hurt you.” He paused, thinking. “I’ll tuh-try not to.”

He didn’t sound very convincing.

You decided to hold your tongue for the time being. At least until you came up with a game plan to get out of this fucking place.

Toby sat down on the couch next to you, still pissed off. The sudden shift in weight causing you to look over at him. It was hard not to notice just how big he was. Tall and lanky, but at this distance it was obvious he did some kind of exercise. He’d be hard to take down on your own, and you’d need some kind of weapon that could immediately incapacitate him. He couldn’t feel pain. You knew that now.

“See suh-somethin’ you luh-like?”

Your thoughts were interrupted, noticing the wide grin stretched across Toby’s face as he looked you over. You had been staring.

Albeit, you were trying to figure out how to kick his ass, but you had been staring nonetheless.

Frowning, you decided it was best to stay silent, choosing to just shake your head ‘no’.

Toby sighed. The noise making you jump a little. “There’s nothing you can do now.” He put his arm around you, your body tensing as you were pulled into him. “And that’s okay.”

The ends of fingers started playing with your hair.

“It isn’t.”

Your voice came out quieter than you’d had hoped. But soon rose from desperation, sadness, anger or a combination of the three.

“It isn’t okay. I have a life, I have fucking friends who care about me, you can’t just tell me it’s okay. God! How could a person be so selfish?!”

“Because I can.” Toby hissed. “Fuh-for once I can be selfish. I finally found suh-something that I want. So I’m going to get it. Even if I have to drag you back here kicking and screaming over and over again.”

His words sunk in, like a rock falling into a bottomless pit.

“You’ll have to.”

Toby laughed cruelly at your response, not phased at all by your determination. He leaned forward in his seat, playing and picking with the skin on his hands. His nose scrunched in a smile, and he turned his head to you, putting a hand on your knee. “That’s fine. I duh-don’t mind a cat and muh-mouse chase every once in a while.”

____________________________________________________________

You felt numb. Your brain buzzing, probably the after effects from the head injury Toby gave you. All the energy you had was focused on the fireplace on the other side of the room. You could hear your captor behind you in the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards. After a couple of failed attempts to get you to speak, he resorted to pacing the cabin, occasionally glaring at you. Muttering phrases and curses under his breath. He finally stopped when your stomach started growling, quickly making his way to the fridge to find you something to eat. Of course, you didn’t ask him to. You decided you weren’t going to ask him for anything.

But there was one thing that had started to bug you, well, other than the whole kidnapping thing.

Scanning the room more intently, you noticed two hatchets that hung by the front door. One with a bright orange handle, and the other dull and wooden. They looked well used, and if it wasn’t your paranoia just seeing things, there were definitely specks of red on the handles and on the holster they hanged from.

It made you wonder what Toby did in his free time.

Sure, you had asked him before if he was going to kill you. And he had alluded to murdering people in his fits of rage. And although you never saw any evidence of it, bloody fucking axes on the wall seemed like pretty solid proof.

You moved closer to get a better look at them.

“Hey. Yuh-your food.”

A bowl of cold soup was shoved in front of your face.

Toby stood next to you frowning, trying to figure out what you were looking so intensely at.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I was - um….. Nothing?” You stammer back.

He placed the bowl into your hand and walked over to the wall, lifting the leather holster off the hooks. The blades of the hatchets swung as he carried them over, before sitting down on a musty chair across from you.

“You like em’?” Toby asked, a hint of tease in his voice, like he was trying to be playful.

“Not really” You shot back.

“Aw, yuh-you’re hurting my feelings.”

Toby took the orange one out of the holster, tossing it back and forth in his hands with ease. He looked up at you for a moment and smirked, before l lifting the handle behind his head, and throwing it forward. It missed your head by a few inches, but you still ducked instinctively. The blade connected on the other side of the wall with a loud ‘THUNK’, the force knocking some empty bottles off the window sill and shattering on the floor.

“What the fuck!”

He cackled at your reaction, throwing his head back in the chair. After a few moments he collected himself.

“Duh-don’t worry, I have good aim.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. "Why do you have those?”

He glanced over at the hatchet embedded in the wall and then back to you. “Firewood.” Was his curt response.

You didn’t believe him.

A small buzzing sound came from Toby’s pocket, startling you both for a moment. He furrowed his brows, before taking out his phone, and glanced down at the screen. He grimaced, reading through something.

“F-fuck.”

If you were wanting an explanation, you weren’t going to get one. Because he got up from his chair and angrily stormed through his home, saying nothing, and grabbing items to get ready for something. He stopped in front of you with a small plastic bag.

Zip ties.

Of course he would tie you up.

“Get up.”

You rose to your feet hesitantly, not liking his tone at all. Something in those texts must have set him off. His hand quickly grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you back to his bedroom where you had first woken up in this hell hole. He threw you onto the bed, and placed your wrist against a metal pole on his bed frame, securing the zip tie to your hands so you couldn’t move. Toby grinned once he was done.

“There. Suh-so you don’t get any ideas while I’m guh-gone.”

Before he left the house, you heard him call out.

“I’ll be back soon!”

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess - Volume 2

Part 3

Summary: How the Savior war and the loss of Rick affected your relationship with Daryl.

Warnings: profanity, loss, spoilers, character deaths, smut

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Chapter List

Note: man, one of the teasers I pulled from this chapter sparked some interest 😅

Well, @thesadcatt0, prepare for ANSWERS.

Anyways, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy ❤️

all banners credited on the masterlist!

        The lineup may have well been the worst day of your life. Two of your friends gone, and your lover taken against his will right in front of you. 

        The days without him we’re almost as bad as the day he was taken. You barely ate, never slept. You constantly found yourself crying in your shared bed, sniffing his pillow in place of him. It seemed so cruel to lose two loves in one lifetime.

        You had agreed to go to Hilltop with Rick and some others. You didn’t really know why you were going or what the plan was. You were just desperate to get out of Alexandria for a while. And, you wanted to see Maggie. You hadn’t seen her since the lineup, and she was pretty sick back then.

        You gave Maggie a big hug when you saw her, but before you could really catch up, the gates opened again and a loud engine echoed within the walls. Through the dust you could just barely make out Daryl and Jesus riding in on a motorcycle. 

        Daryl had barely stood up off the bike before you tackled him to the ground.

        “You’re okay.” You cried into the nape of his neck. He stiffened at the sudden human contact after days in isolation, but he relaxed as his arms snaked around you and held you tight against him. 

        “Yeah. I am.” He whispered into your hair, reminding not only you that he was okay but also himself. It had been a long few days at the Sanctuary, but now he knew things about them, and he had to report to Rick. They had to fight back. “C’mon.” He said softly as he tried to sit himself up off the ground. You rolled off him and stood up with him, gripping his hand tightly as he walked over to Rick to hug him. 

        That reunion was probably the highlight of the war with the Saviors. After that, there was nothing but more violence and death. You had begun to believe you were cursed. It seemed like you managed to end up with some kind of injury every time you had to fight. 

        When the final battle with the Saviors was over, you were left with a broken arm and a concussion. While your arm would take quite a while to heal, your head was fine the next day. The people that really needed healing were Maggie and Daryl. They both wanted Negan dead, and neither of them could let it go. But, Rick was unmoving on his decision to keep Negan alive as an example of what the communities all could have been. He was loyal to Carl’s vision, even at the detriment of those who had a score to settle with Negan.

        The inability to cope with Negan’s life being spared caused a bit of a rift between you and Daryl. You’d followed him to the Sanctuary for the short time he was in charge there. He hated being there, and he didn’t even really want you there in the first place. A lot of the Saviors were just people getting by, but a lot of them were also animals. He hated the way some of the men would check you out and lick their crusty lips when you walked past. It made him sick to his stomach to think what they’d do to you if they had a chance.

        The only time either of you felt any semblance of happiness at the Sanctuary was when you were both in bed.

        The frustrations of the work would often leave Daryl tense, and he’d take those pent up frustrations out on you in bed. The sex got a lot rougher in those days. 

        He’d turn you over so you were facing away from him. He felt too ashamed of himself to look at you, or let you see him. He was ashamed of the way he had failed people over time. He failed to get Beth out of that hospital, he failed Glenn when he threw that lunch that got him killed, he failed Maggie when he couldn’t avenge Glenn, he failed Rick every day he woke up to lead the people he hated, and he failed you every time you reached for his hand and he flinched away. 

        He’d grip the back of your neck with his thick hand. His cock would slam into you with so much force it knocked guttural sounds from within you. Your fingers would dig into the sheets when the bruising force of his thrusts got a little out of hand. 

        His mind would always be elsewhere. You’d rarely reach your climax, either of you. You’d both go to bed unsatisfied and you’d be sore the next day. Still, you were close to each other, intimate in privacy, and that was as good as it was going to get for the time being, so you both tried to enjoy it as much as you could. 

        When Daryl stepped down at the Sanctuary and Carol took over, you left with him to help work on the bridge. With the Saviors not always working well with others, things could get pretty hectic. Fights would break out, and often Daryl would be an aggressor. It was hot and sticky and bugs were everywhere all the time. The tent you shared was cramped and the nights were restless and uncomfortable. You couldn’t even have violent therapy sex without others listening in. There seemed to be no end to the suffering. Still, you remained by his side, no matter what.

        You stayed with him even when Rick blew up the bridge, when Daryl retired to the forest for six years. You’d often visit Hilltop or Alexandria to see old friends, but you stayed out there in that tent with him. Things were okay. He had become a bit softer, even in bed, but still he was withdrawn. You ate most of your meals in silence.

        Days dragged a lot of the time. When you got so bored you couldn’t stand it, you’d just take another trip to visit Maggie or Michonne and spend a few days away. He didn’t seem to mind, nor did he seem to worry about you taking care of yourself without him, so no harm done, you figured.

        One day you came home to see he had a dog. A dog, named Dog, apparently. 

        “Where’d you find him?” You asked as you patted and loved on the furry thing. 

        “Just out here.” He shrugged. He was holding something back, but you didn’t pry. You’d find out what it was soon enough, when you put the few tracking tips he taught you to good use, and tracked him on one of his hunts to find him at an old cabin. Another woman sat on the porch with him, long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder. 

        She noticed you as soon as you noticed her. She stood quickly, shotgun cocked and ready, barrel pointed right at you. You disregarded her completely, eyes trained on Daryl, who you didn’t think had any business at another woman’s house. 

        Dog stood pointedly at her side, growling and snarling at you. You realized he was her dog.

        Without a word, you just nodded, and stormed back to your camp. 

        By the time Daryl caught up, you were haphazardly throwing anything that belonged to you in your bag and rummaging around the campsite. 

        “(Y/N)—“

        “Don’t.” You cut him off.

        “It wasn’t—“

        “Wasn’t what?” You snapped, turning to face him, eyes blazing. “Wasn’t what it looked like? Yeah, right. Heard that one before.”

        Your body was trembling with rage. Considering the events that led to your relationship with him in the first place, you were infuriated that he’d be doing the same thing to you as your sleaze bag ex. We’re you eternally cursed to choose unfaithful men? 

        “No. It wasn’t.” He pleaded. You glanced down at Dog who sat idly by his side, tail wagging. 

        “Really? Cause I’ve never known a woman to loan anyone her dog without a good reason.” You glared. 

        “She didn’t. Dog found me. I followed him. That’s how I met her.”

        “Oh, cute. It’ll be a real nice story for your grandkids.” You rolled your eyes as you zipped up your bag and threw it over your shoulder. 

        “(Y/N) will ya just stop?!” 

        “No!” You shouted, throwing your hands up with frustration. “No, I won’t stop! If there’s anything you should know by now, it’s that I’m nobody’s fucking side piece.” 

        “It ain’t like that! If ya’d just stop and listen!”

        He pleaded with you as he stalked behind you, slapping stray limbs out of his face as he dodged through trees to keep up your pace. He found that he, too, was shaking. He felt so much anxiety in that moment — the possibility of losing you, especially over something so stupid — it was tearing him apart. He found himself blinking away tears as you tried to speed away from him. But, as he blinked them back, the pressure in his throat and chest just seemed to push more out. He was terrified. He couldn’t let you walk away. 

        When he caught up, he reached out and gripped your arm, pulling you back. You spun around and looked right through him, eyes wide and full of your own tears.

        “(Y/N), please. Just stop and listen.” He breathed. 

        “You have thirty seconds.” 

        “It wasn’t nothin’ like that, okay? I swear. Her dog follows me around. I bring ‘im home to her sometimes. We talk a little. That’s it.” He explained. 

        “Why don’t you just talk to me?” You asked quietly. You had a point. You two spent the majority of your time in silence, to the point where you’d leave him for days just to go have a real conversation with someone. You always came home, though, because you’d rather suffer in silence then be away for too long.

        “I just—“ He took a breath to collect his thoughts. “She don’t know about none of it, ya know? I just.. I don’t look at her and see somebody else I let down.”

        “Is that what you see when you look at me?”

        “No.” He shook his head. His gums were raw from how hard he’d been chewing at them. “I see somebody I’m afraid o’ lettin’ down.”

        “You never let anyone down, Daryl.” You said harshly. “And you’d know that if you’d fucking come talk to our family once in a while. I’m tired of telling them you’re doing fine, even if you won’t crawl out of your fucking hole and go see anyone.”

          “I just..” His lip quivered a little as he looked down at you. He hated that feeling. His fists bunched up at his sides, legs stiff, boots glued in place. He felt so awkward and vulnerable when he tried to be open with anyone. Especially you. All he wanted was to be someone you relied on, someone you felt safe with. Every time he opened up, he felt like anything but that. “I’m sorry.” 

        His voice cracked as he uttered the apology. You faltered a little at the sight of him, but you stood firm. 

        “Well, sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time. I need you to prove it. With actions.”

        “Like what?” He asked eagerly.

         “Like talking to me, for starters. Have a fucking conversation with me. Talk to me while we eat dinner. Touch me. Act like you want anything to do with me.” You spat. While his voice had softened the moment you gave him a chance to explain himself, your tongue was still sharp and jagged. All these things you had thought and felt and bottled up for six years were finally out on the table. 

        “Okay.” He nodded. “I will.”

        You glared at him. In all your experience with men, it had never been so easy to get the changes you’d asked for.

          “And…” You thought hard. “Sex. Like, good sex. I haven’t busted a nut in like six years.” 

        His lips curled a little. He’d almost forgotten how blunt you could be, given the chance to speak your mind. You crossed your arms.

        “Okay.” He nodded again. “So what first?”

        You cocked an eyebrow at that. It was actually a good question. 

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

        The bark of the tree scraped at your back as you gripped onto his shoulders. Lewd sounds filled the forest around you has he pumped his length in and out of you. You moaned and gasped, enjoying the familiarity of such intimate sex. It had been a long time since it felt that way. 

        Still, you weren’t reacting the way you used to, and he took notice. He wasn’t building you up the way he should have been by now.

        He slowed his pace down and broke the ongoing kiss to ask you; “What’s wrong?”

        “What? Nothing.” You panted impatiently, not understanding his sudden hesitance.

        “Somethin’s up.” He pressed.

        “I was starting to get close.” You insisted.

        “Nah ya weren’t.” He pointed out. “Hang on.”

         He hooked his hands under your thighs and dripped down to his knees, holding your legs up above his shoulders as his mouth found your mound. 

        You sucked in a breath of air at the sensation of his tongue tracing delicate circles around your clit. “Oh.” You breathed. “Shit.”

        He hummed against you, the gentle vibration making you twitch.

        Your nails dug into the tree behind you as you rocked against his mouth, relaxing your weight into the trunk as he held you up against it. 

        “Fuck.” You whined as your clit became more sensitive to his gentle laps. He sucked at your clit and fucked you with his tongue for a while, before he brought his attention back to your clit again and focused intensely on that sweet spot. 

        Soon your legs started to shake and your body began to buzz. The feeling washed over you quickly. A loud moan pushed past your lips as you came, writhing in his grip against the tree until you were twitching and jerking away from him. 

         With your orgasm finally out of the way, he was back on his feet, slapping into you, until his own high reached a climax and he was pumping you full of his cum. 

        When you recovered enough to pull your clothes back on and think a full, coherent thought, you realized something. 

        “Hey Daryl?” You asked as he buttoned up his jeans and adjusted his poncho.

        “Yeah?”

        “You didn’t pull out.” 

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

[yois2aki]

੭୧ chishiya with an introverted reader... . ۫

chishiya shuntaro x fem!reader (requested)

— warnings: fluff, maybe ooc chishiya, beach arc, fem pronouns, niragi doing niragi things, typical aib violence, swallowing razor blades lol...

— summary: chishiya is very enticed by the fact you seem to trust him so much, he can't help but tease you.

— word count: 1.6k

you were known around the beach, specifically for being on the quiet side, avoiding any compromising relationships, platonic or not, with people around you, knowing that would only be a flaw between others, especially in a place like the borderlands. people like this always managed to stand out more than intended between others.

it only half worked, though. when you first arrived in this sick world, it didn't take long for you to get invited to the beach, which you reluctantly accepted since there weren't that many options for you.

everyone there seemed untrustworthy and deceitful, especially the group of militants. so you decided to keep to your side, having a few acquaintances here and there but nothing too profound.

that was until a blonde guy named chishiya decided to do the job himself and approach you. you were never aware of the reason, but at this point, you didn't care. your only goal in a place like this was to never let your guard down next to others, but unfortunately, this man managed to make you. he could be using you all this time just to have someone to sacrifice when the needed time comes, and you would fall right onto it given how much trust you had put in him.

being friends with chishiya later on drove you to become friends with kuina as well, but still, you weren't as close to her as you were with the guy.

it turns out you were simply introverted, and having someone to confide in ended up helping you in a place like this, contrary to your beliefs. you'd continuously get teased by niragi for being so shy and reserved with yourself, but that didn't happen with chishiya. you could tell he was quite curious about your behavior as well; however, he didn't press it on you. 

this reflected on the time you two spent together. you ended up sticking next to him more than you realized. people around the beach would be surprised if they went on a walk and saw one of you both alone. kuina was also after him sometimes, but it didn't compare to you guys's proximity. this only made him seem more suspicious, given that he only kept two people close, and even so, he would appear slightly reluctant to anything you guys did together.

before you could realize it, you were practically blabbering your mouth out whenever you were both alone, contrasting the personalities you made up around other members. and surprisingly, chishiya didn't complain, instead just staying silent for most of the time you talked. you weren't sure if he was even listening most of the time, apart from some occasional comments he decided to add when wanting to share his opinion about whatever matter caught your eye that day.

as of now, chishiya was sitting on the chair by his desk as you lied down on his bed, looking at the ceiling. his hands were moving around on a device, and you had no idea what half of its purpose was. sometimes, you would try and peek to see whatever he was doing with it, but upon recognizing the usual pliers and wires he must love so much, given he "spends more time with them than with you" (as you dramatically proclaimed a few days ago), you just gave up.

he looked very focused right now, and you knew better than to disturb him at times like these, but your boredom somehow managed to get the lead as your mind looked around for a chat theme.

"did you know that the human stomach can dissolve razor blades?" you ask out of the blue, your gaze still fixated on the ceiling.

he did not answer. instead, he stopped his movements around the device in his hands and gave you a side look. you could feel his gaze, so you immediately tried to explain.

"i'm not planning on anything!" you said it with a hurried voice, coming out with a tone of humor. "it's just a scientific fact."

he sighed, his attention turning back to the box to which he added two metals. it was now much harder to guess what the hell he was trying to make out of it.

"no, i did not know that." chishiya replied, his eyes never leaving the gadget he held as he kept fixing it. his voice was heard again shortly after. "but it's quite obvious, actually. the ph level in a human stomach varies between 1 and 3, which means it is very acidic. you could get away with swallowing a lot of things."

you could tell by the way he spoke that he tried to use easier words to make you understand, and honestly, that only made your heart beat faster and your cheeks redden. 

"that doesn't mean you can do it." he stopped his movements for a second, talking with a stern voice, but quickly went back. he really looked more preoccupied with the piece of equipment.

you gasped as if you were offended by his remark, a chuckle leaving your lips right after as you rolled around on his bed. "i would never swallow anything suspicious. i'm not that insane."

"you considered pressing a button that had "don't press" written on top of it." he answered without thinking twice.

you laughed it off again, remembering how he had to physically pull you away from the tempting button you found together on a game you played. it consisted of finding the exit to a labyrinth as a killer chased the players. you knew where the exit was from the very beginning since, before entering the game, chishiya had the brilliant idea of going to a point high enough to study the whole arena. when you both finally finished the game, someone ended up pressing it, and the whole place blew up. at least you found out what it did.

"come on, i was curious!" you complained, still giggling, when the memories of chishiya being so done with you came back. "i would never swallow a razor blade, you know that."

"not even if it had "don't swallow" written on top of it?" he ironically asked, doing his best to make his voice come out nonchalant, but you could basically hear the smirk he held.

"chishiya!" you whined out louder, starting to laugh again.

after your fun died out, you got up from the bed and stopped beside him, a hand holding onto the back of his chair. "what miraculous electrical device are you making this time?"

at this point, chishiya didn't even question your choice of words, instead keeping his gaze on the item. "it's a taser," he replied sharply. "so i can bring some sense into the heads of idiots like you."

"i hate you." you admitted, rolling your eyes and turning around with a sigh, lying flat dead on his bed again. both of you knew you were not telling the truth, and he was about to tease you for it.

until he was brutally broken out of his line of thinking by an equally brutal niragi slamming the door open. you flinched at the sound, while chishiya just closed his eyes and sighed, frustrated.

"oi. executive meeting by eight o'clock. make sure not to skip it again, or the hatter might not like it." he exclaimed, referring to chishiya, not bothering about keeping his voice down or even lowering his gun to appear a bit more sociable. "oh. look who we have here..." now referring to you.

as niragi's eyes fell upon you, your eyebrows immediately furrowed as you looked away, sitting up on chishiya's bed, avoiding as much contact with him as you could. 

"why are you always after this guy? there are so many better men in a place like this, and you choose him?" niragi asked with that sharp voice of his, which you profoundly despised, as he approached and pointed his gun at you. you didn't bother looking at it.

your cheeks were pretty warm from this whole interaction. you weren't scared of him physically hurting you, since chishiya wouldn't allow it and niragi knew it, but confrontations were always awkward with him.

you didn't even realize that chishiya finally let go of the device in hand, turning around in the chair and watching the scene with not too much interest. "she isn't that fond of me. actually, she just claimed to hate me."

your mouth fell agape as you looked his way with a gaze that could kill. you noticed he had a smirk, and all you wanted to do in that moment was wipe it out of his face, but you knew best with niragi there. 

"oh, so she talks? now that's a surprise." niragi lowered his gun to his sides, chuckling at the end of his sentence. you could only lower your head in embarrassment and avoid any more conflicts.

"well, i'll be taking my leave. thanks for the attention, you both!" niragi yelled ironically, slamming the door shut behind him.

and as soon as he made his way out of the room, you turned your attention to chishiya, who had already mentally prepared himself to deal with your talking.

"i might not be the one dissolving a blade in my stomach, but i know who will." you said, trying your best to sound mad, which probably didn't work out because he didn't move a bit from his usual position.

"well, niragi might need to take care then." he said, turning around in his chair, back to his own world.

"i wasn't talking about him!" you rolled your eyes, fuming and concluding that it was useless to argue with him. 

in truth, your tantrum didn't last much longer than 5 minutes, since soon you were already chattering about whatever came into your mind next. even if it seemed like not, chishiya was always listening, often adding a comment or two, but at this point, it was routine for both. it was entertaining to him to see how different you could be depending on the people present in the room and how you became much more comfortable with him around. he took pride in that.

— a/n: waaah this was so fun to write!!! i love making chishiya an insufferable one so i hope this was okay and fitted your likings... i think i ran away a little bit from the topic but i wanted to make chishiya as in character as possible because imo that's what makes him so interesting. ohh i love a jackass of a man......

[fandomxpreferences]

Blurred Emotions

Masterlist

Pairing: Drew Starkey x female!Reader

TW: angst(?), fluff, super brief allusion to violence, fame (Is that a warning? lol)

Summary: You and Drew get asked about working together and it uncovers some feelings.

Word Count:1.6k

Being in the limelight is honestly something you don't think you'll ever get used to. It just doesn't make sense to you that people actually follow your life and care about what you say and do. However, that doesn't stop you from enjoying it; especially when you get to experience it with Drew. 

Working on Outer Banks is already an insane opportunity that has improved your life in ways you can't even fathom, but to top it off it introduced you to Drew. You were cast as Barry's sister and Rafe's love interest. 

It only took a few scenes with each other to develop feelings, and it spiraled from there. It's a challenge though, seeing as your relationship on the show is tumultuous, to say the least.

So as you stand here with Drew in front of an interviewer, you're not surprised when she asks about it. 

"Is it hard to film such violent scenes with your boyfriend? I would think that would cause some tension." 

Drew's hand squeezes yours as you mull over the words, well aware that what you say will be plastered all over the internet by the end of the night. He's equally as interested to hear your response; it's not really something the two of you have ever blatantly discussed.

Your bright smile never falters and you nod your head a bit.

"Of course. I mean, Drew is such a phenomenal actor and he completely loses himself in his roles. When we're in character, it's like he's nowhere to be seen, and it's just Rafe. Of course I know he would never hurt me, but it's hard for the brain to differentiate sometimes. It's easy for the line to blur."

She nods in understanding and you take a breath before continuing, trying to ignore Drew's burning gaze on the side of your face. 

"It's definitely an obstacle to portray such a toxic relationship with someone you love. Even though it's a role, it's still his hands around my throat and his voice spewing venom. Like I said, Drew is incredible and he just lets that personality take over. It's magical to experience up close, but it can be scary too."

The interviewer pulls the mic away for a moment and Drew's face is set in a deep frown. 

"I can imagine. Do you ever struggle with separating the two when work is over?"

You sigh and glance down for a moment, debating how forthcoming you should be. 

"I used to for sure. I remember when we first started dating, I would flinch away from any sudden movements and tiptoe around him. It's better now, but yeah it was rough for a while."

She hums in acknowledgment before turning to Drew, and it takes him a second to tear his eyes away from you. He remembers where he is and plasters a smile on, but you can see that his eyes don't crinkle the way they usually do. 

"What about you, Drew? What's it like to have to act out those scenes with your real-life girlfriend?"

You watch as he swallows and shifts nervously on his feet. 

"I don't really think about it. I can't, or else I'll start getting emotional. At the end of the day, I just go in and do my job. What she said about me getting so lost in Rafe, the same goes for her. She's remarkable at what she does, and I hate seeing the genuine fear in her eyes. It makes me sick to my stomach, so it's definitely not my favorite aspect." 

You give him a small smile when he glances over and the interviewer smiles. 

"Well I'll let you guys continue on, thank you so much for taking the time to talk."

You give one last smile and Drew pulls you into him. 

"Of course! Enjoy the rest of your night."

The remainder of the evening goes off without a hitch, but you can tell Drew isn't his usual bubbly self. It's not until you're back at the hotel changing out of your dress that he finally brings it up. 

"Did you mean what you said? About being scared of me?"

He sounds so sad when he asks, and your heart squeezes in its cage. Your eyes meet his through the mirror and you sigh before nodding slowly. 

"I mean, kind of. I was scared of you for a while, but not really. Like I told her, I know you would never ever hurt me. It was just hard to look at you at first because even though it wasn't you doing those things, it was. I'm past it now, though."

You try to comfort him, turning to place a gentle hand on his cheek but it doesn't seem to help. Tears burn his waterline and your stomach sinks at the sight. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

Your eyebrows pinch together as you look into his cerulean eyes, and you try to find the right words. 

"I didn't want you to hold back. The last thing I wanted to do was get in your head and affect your performance. I knew if I told you, that you wouldn't give it your all and I couldn't have that. Besides, I knew it wasn't real. It was just trippy."

He purses his lips and nods, but the way he pulls out of your grasp tells you he still isn't quite over it. 

"I'm gonna talk to the writers and see if they can remove some of those scenes."

He's walking away as he says it and you chase after him, grabbing his arm to turn him back around toward you. 

"No, you're not. Drew, this is what we signed up for. It's not their fault that there are personal feelings behind it. We can't start making demands out of the blue."

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair as he begins pacing. 

"Y/N, filming those scenes is destroying me. I can't keep pretending to hurt you, it feels too real."

You stare up at him and really observe just how distressed he is. You knew it was hard on him; how could it not be? It's one thing to be on the receiving end, but to be the one actively inflicting pain? You can't imagine the toll it takes. 

"Baby, maybe you should talk to someone. You love playing Rafe, and you love being on OBX. I know it sucks, but I could never live with myself if you gave that up for me. We'll figure it out, but promise me you won't do anything drastic."

He hesitates for a second before agreeing and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

"Let's go to bed, okay? We can talk about this more in the morning."

The two of you crawl under the comforter together, and Drew clings to you like you'll float away if every inch of your body isn't pressed to him. You don't complain about the proximity; you know he needs this. 

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed and sit up with a scowl. Your eyes glance at the clock and see 8:30. Where the hell is Drew this early? Usually, the two of you sleep until at least ten; especially after an event like last night. 

Your ears zone into the sound of voices coming from the attached office, and you stretch while slowly climbing out of bed. Your feet pad against the hardwood floor as your rub your eyes, your mind still foggy. 

Your confusion worsens when you see Drew sitting in front of his laptop on a conference call and you hang back to listen. You're not exactly in the best state to be seen right now anyway with tangled hair and drool dried on your chin. 

"What do you need us to do?" 

You recognize the voice as Jonas and your eyes widen, suddenly much more alert. He promised he wouldn't do anything. Drew sighs and you wait for his next words with bated breath. 

"I know it's my responsibility to remain professional, and that I took on the role. Thats fine. I just think that maybe there can be some measures in place for when it gets to be too much. I think we both need to be able to decompress, and maybe take some breaks if it gets overwhelming."

There's a beat of silence before Jonas responds, and you bite your lip. 

"I think we can manage that. We want you both to be comfortable, we all know it's hard on you. What are you thinking?"

Drew leans back in his seat, still unaware of your presence, and his response makes you wonder if he slept at all or stayed up thinking about this. 

"Maybe a chill room? Just a trailer or whatever that has our favorite snacks and bean bag chairs or something along those lines. It doesn't have to be a lot, but I want her to feel safe. It's rough for me, but I'm more concerned about her."

You see Jonas nod on the screen and he scribbles something down. 

"That's doable. We can work out the details later, I know you had a long night. Is there anything else?"

Drew shakes his head and Jonas smiles. 

"Do you at least feel better?"

You hear your boyfriend chuckle a little and he sits up to lean his forearms on the desk. 

"Yeah. Thanks, man."

You hear them say goodbye and Drew ends the call before slumping back in his chair. He startles a bit when your hands rub his shoulders but quickly relaxes when he realizes it's just you. 

"Can you come back to bed now? I'm still tired and I miss you." 

You watch as he stands and a loud squeal tears from your throat when he unexpectedly tosses you over his broad shoulder. 

"Of course. If my girl wants to cuddle and nap, then that's what we're doing."

@veescorneroftheworld @lcvelylies