#He'd be all jovial about it as they're leading him away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sirthisisa-wendys · 1 year

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Hello! I hope you're doing well! I've been reading your blog for the past few days and have really enjoyed it, so thank you for all your work! If you have time, I would love to see Hanma added to your Hand Her Over Series.

Hand Her Over III: Hanma Shuji x Fem!Reader

wc: 1k

tw: smut, gun play, angst, the WERKS

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Hand Her Over Megapost

The laugh is loud, riotous, almost unhinged.

But Manjiro doesn't flinch.

When Hanma finally settles down, Mikey adjusts his shirt, picking at invisible lint before clearing his throat. "So?"

"No," Hanma drawls, kicking his feet onto the desk and leaning as far back as he can in his chair. "I've been with y/n for nearly two decades. I'd never agree to that." Mikey sighs, placing his hands back in his pockets and staring at the jovial man.

"I had a feeling you would say that." Hanma laces his fingers together in his lap, not moving an inch. Mikey, however, looks up at the ceiling just as something scrapes across it, and the sound of stumbling footsteps rattles the flimsy chandelier right behind him. There's a loud thump and then the sounds of arguing.

Hanma's eyes flick from the ceiling back to Manjiro, but he remains stoic. Mikey and he stare at each other for a long while, each daring the other to move or make a noise. Hanma begins to calculate how long it'll take him to knock Mikey out cold and get to you.

Less than a minute.

"You don't have that kind of time," Manjiro whispers, knowing. "In thirty seconds, the sedative will wear off."

"That leaves me with plenty of time to fuck you up."

"Not nearly," Mikey admits, pulling a gun out of the back of his pants. "Not if I shoot you where you sit."

"You've never been one for guns," Hanma jokes, tilting his head to the side. The gun follows his movements. "You don't want to fight it out for old time's sake?"

"Not really." Even Kisaki hadn't been this cold-blooded. Hanma thought if he just dug his hands into the inkpot one last time, he'd be able to walk away with the girl, the money, and the clean record. "And I don't trust you."

"I've never cheated you before, Mikey."

"You just did."

Hanma has to think and fast.

"We'll share." Mikey pauses, finger resting on the trigger. "Take me up there. I'll share her with you. She'll be more at ease with me there, anyways. You get what you want, and so do I."

"You want to watch me." A statement, not a question. Fuck no.

"I'll go in there, get her to be okay with it, and we can trade off." Say no. Mikey lowers the gun, the depraved look on his face not wavering.

"Get her to agree first." Hanma's feet drag like lead weights as he climbs the stairs toward where they're keeping you. Stay calm, stay calm. She'll be scared if you don't stay calm.

The door opens to a plain room, and you're on the floor, gagged and bound, tears leaking out of your eyes. When you see him, you perk up, breathing raggedly and trying to speak. "Get her to agree," Mikey reminds Hanma, standing back far enough that you can't see him.

"Hey, princess..." Hanma stoops low and unties the blood-smeared cloth around your wrists. "It's okay. It's alright." Once your hands are free, you push yourself up, shaking and shivering. Hanma moves to undo the gag next, but Mikey huffs a soft,

"Leave it." Hanma pulls his hands back and you reach for the gag, but he takes your hands in his. He inhales deeply, attempting to exude calm and confidence.

"Did they hurt you?" You shake your head, lips trembling. "Good, good." Tears run down your face in rivulets, and Hanma reaches up to wipe them away. "Listen to me. You have to be a good girl for me."

You nod rapidly, sniffing. "Be a good girl for me." Hanma takes the cloth that was around your wrist and places it over your eyes. You break into a fresh set of tears, staining the flowered - not blood-tainted - cloth. "Be a good girl." He finally reaches for the gag again, and it seems Mikey knows what he's about to do because he doesn't stop him.

Hanma takes the scarf out of your mouth, and you begin babbling incoherently, trying to understand, trying to make sense of it all. Hanma ties the scarf around your wrists as you burst into tears again, sobbing woefully and wrenching his heart in two. Hanma pulls you close and kisses your wet cheeks, trying to savor every single second he has alone with you before the monster walking into the room can steal you away.

"I love you," Hanma whispers softly. "I love you so much. Just be good."

"Han-ma," you choke out, mucus smearing on his shirt. "Shu-ji, what's happening, I--" Mikey cocks the gun again, and Hanma moves you so you're chest to chest while you're on your knees. Mikey's hands move to flip up your skirt, and your voice breaks off as you begin to shout for help, shout for anyone, shout for someone--

But Hanma holds you against him, closing his eyes and listening to you cry out in anguish. His ears can't even make sense of the words anymore, and his tinnitus takes over, muting the rest. Tears drop onto his face, and Hanma wonders if he could just block all of this out and pretend it's not happening as you remind him of a trapped animal attempting to break free.

The exact moment when Mikey penetrates you shocks him back into reality, however, and your body goes rigid. Hanma presses your face into his chest, holding you tight and whispering, "I'm sorry," over Manjiro's grunting and huffing. The gun is still pointed in your general direction, and Hanma watches as Manjiro loses himself in the moment.

"It's almost over," Hanma murmurs, but you've long gone silent. "I promise." When Mikey grunts and finishes, he puts the safety back on his gun, zips himself up, and leaves. Hanma waits until he can't hear footsteps - and then another ten minutes - until he shifts up off the ground and scoops you into his arms.

In a daze, he walks down the stairs and to his car, where it's waiting for him in the garage. No one sees him, no one is there to notice him. But for once... for once, Hanma wishes there was someone there. He slides you into the passenger seat, takes off your blindfold and wrist tie, and shuffles to the other side of the car, barely noticing the semen that's dripped onto his pant leg.

"I'm gonna get you home and get you cleaned up," he hoarsely promises you, ignoring his own tears. "I'll make it right. I promise."

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji #shuji hanma #tokyo revengers smut

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ll-underestimated-ll · 1 year

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Answering Everything in the: Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget?

He'd prefer to forget his nightmares simply for the simplicity of being able to tell what he really has done apart from them with greater ease.

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

For mortals - the extent of his influence and power. It's simply not something expected from some average looking teen/'very babyfaced short business guy'.

For other vampires - the fact he's stepped away from the path of humanity entirely. Sure the greyish parlour of his skin and sense of deathly tiredness may clue them into the way he's at least low on it but when combined with his jovial demeaner and lively body language he comes across as having maintained a connection to the living that other kindred his age often lack.

3. What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw

He has a self-destructive impulsive streak and he's very aware of it. It's come with dying without finishing brain development. It's somewhat balanced out with his paranoid indecisiveness.

4. When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

It will vary depending on the cause of his fear. Fawn has for a very long time, talking in the centuries, been his default when it comes to dealing with others. But flee or fight follow closely in second. Can't always jump to a fight. Can't always run away. Can't do nothing. So- fawn.

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

Leo, for a long time, has adhered to the train of thought that anything and everything is fair game if it leads to the desired outcome. It does not matter how reprehensible the act is in his eyes or the eyes of others - if it achieves the goals that have been set out then those that have been harmed are simply unfortunate casualties in the grand game of the universe.

Besides, he thinks to himself, - If he was unwilling to commit to such an actions, than those that were would have an upper hand over him.

As it stands the most significant thing he has an unwillingness to do is forfeit his position. Followed by throwing aside the Twins. He cares for them greatly... and they're far to useful.

6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

Have a direct path towards something for him to gain.

Take for example the fact the fact he does not wish to see children harmed, yet he killed & embraced Danny at the drop of a hat because he made a suitable decoy so he could feign his death (at least that was his intention).

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Choice of weaponry. He used to be very gun focused (he still likes and collects them) but now he leans towards swords.

Also - when I first created him as an SPC I was still very very new to vtm (I still feel I am) and my notes for him in the games discord channel was the following:

'The Prince. Venture. Became the current prince in 1980. Imagine Five from Umbrella academy. Currently the second oldest kindred in the city (despite looking to be a teenager). Has a slightly abrasive relationship with his clan fellows in the city due to claims of him having a somewhat lax attitude.'

8. Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Yes. Ths boy can do so many murders. A significant part of his job is to cover them up after all.

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

His playlist has over 100 songs on it but no specific one jumps to mind. Here's the colour coded spreadsheet of the songs on it.

And once again I'm pulling out this song in particular for anyone that's scrolled far enough in this post

youtube

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

One AU I have in my head that I keep repeatedly returning to in my head is the improbable situation of 'what would happen if all vampires abruptly woke up alive again one day' and the fallout that follows from that. It makes for an incredibly stressful time for him and going over how he responds to finally getting to grow up is interesting to me.

11. What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Good ol' reliable blade. More specifically he favours side-swords and rapier like weapons. I talked about it in this ask response.

12. Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

Because Leo sees what happens to him as inconsequential so long as he gets out the other end alive having achieved his goals he has put himself through a lot of traumatic situations and dismisses the mental strain that he is putting himself through when he commits himself to scenarios which are retraumatizing.

Aside from this he creates problems for himself on a semi-frequent basis. Which is likely the lessor evil.

13. If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

We would get along because he's a chameleon that endeavours to get along with everyone. But he would see me as being frightfully lazy and undriven. Lacking in passion, too timid to get anything done, and therefore - disposable. I am the low willpower ghoul he possesses to do things out around town from time to time.

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

He wishes to be respected, liked, and induce some semblance of fear. He wants to to be the Friendly Neighbourhood Prince, who's approachable and as trustable as a Camarilla Prince to be. Even towards sabbat and hunters his preference is to be seen as someone that can be at least respected as a foe despite his goofy antics but he's well aware that given some of his antics on here he's unlikely to see that.

15. Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

Yes and no? He has strayed away from his Five clone origin and while the vibes for appearance are still similar it's not 100% right? This is my curse. Never shall I have a real person faceclaim and go 'Yes. Them. 100%'. The same way in which not all picrews feel as close as others.

16. What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

He's maxed up fortitude as high as he can for his generation. It makes him fairly numb and his pain tolerance rather high. At least in the moment. Once there is downtime he's going to whine about bumping into a table if given the opportunity.

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

I could say a lot of things here, I have dragged this boy through absolute hell and often leave things only vague or alluded to cos it's a case of me with my criminology degree going 'he would of probably seen this sort of thing... but I don't want to explicitly write it out for personal comfort'.

But... I think the fact that Leo maintains the distinct memory from his mortal life of being feverish from the plague and looking to the side to see his fathers deceased face blindly staring back at him has to be the cruellest thing I've burdened him with.

18. Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

Depends on who's interacting with him. If he wants you to like him he's going to act close and personal but he's really rather detached. Can't not be able to discard someone at the drop of a hat.

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

Tense if the person on the receiving end of his anger is lucky and he does not wish to kill them. But he can become incredibly violent at the drop of a hat if he's pissed off. He is the start consuming flesh off his target in anger without being in fury frenzy. At least he'd claim he wasn't in it.

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

He does. It's why he harks on yearn-posting for example. For the most part it's something he can shrug off but when it is something he feels he can be petty about he will attempt to find ways to throw as many spanners in the works as he can. (e.g. Were anyone to attempt to pursue Thea romantically they'd suddenly wonder why their life is falling apart.)

21. Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

None that manage to be evident through the filter of vampirism. Were he alive however he does have some scarring of his lungs which would become an issue during times of physical exertion.

22. What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

Neutral Evil.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

Honestly, really unsure what one it'd be. He's more introspective than me and has greater manipulative knowledge of how to ID then mess with emotions so I'd presume he has an okay grasp of things. Look, I ain't been to therapy. I dunno what emotions are y'all.

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down?

Dead. Either sickness, starvation, or execution. Unless we're making an AU where he's born in the modern world. If his sire hadn't intervened in his life he would of been caught out at some point. So, I guess if he hadn't stolen clothes and gone to that gathering that'd be the alternate path.

25. How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

Dead before 20.

26. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

I like that because he's always putting on at least some kind of act that I can sweep my inconsistent characterisation and stupidity under the rug as him just messing around. He takes a lot of weight off.

#ooc #about #long post #ight there we go #all of them

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nicolewoo · 4 years

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Speakeasy Part 1

Pairing: Fergal Devitt X Reader. Finn Balor X Reader

Scenario: Desperate to make enough money to live on during the great depression, Reader gets a job at a Speakeasy, and finds a dangerous ally. Can she trust this man and his stories or should she listen to her friend's advice and steer clear of him?

Warnings: Part 1 has no warnings. Future parts probably will.

The minute I walked in, I could smell it.... the stale smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol were practically oozing out of the walls. This wasn't going to be good for my throat, but then again, this wasn't going to be good for anything except paying bills. It's 1930 and a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do.... especially living alone in Chicago.

I had a job at a diner, but the breakfast tips weren't enough to get by, and I'd been frantically trying to get a job in a proper theater. The problem was that everyone wanted dancers that could sing. I had the singing part down. The dancing? Well, I've got 2 left feet. No matter how many lessons I took, I just couldn't dance. So, here I am, in a speakeasy, getting ready to try out for a bunch of mafia guys, risking getting arrested just so I could pay the bills.

Count your blessings, girl. A lot of people are a lot worse off. I told myself as I remembered leaving Hutchinson Kansas due to The Great Depression. I remembered the sight of homeless families and bread lines and brawls for crumbs. Yes, I was doing something illegal, but I was going to be able to live because of it.

I was shaken out of my thoughts with the sound of a trumpet squeaking out. I knew before I even looked that it was my friend Tony getting my attention. “You made it. You look great, doll.” Tony said coming up to me. “Let me introduce you to the band.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and led me over to the stage.

“Marty,” Tony called out getting the band leader's attention. “This is Y/N, the singer I told you about.”

Marty barely looked up from the sheet music he was reviewing, “Hey. Let's hear those pipes, doll.” He sounded less than enthusiastic. “Guys.” He yelled to the band. “Give me some Mean to Me.” He motioned me over to the mic.

Ok, well, let's do this. I sidled up to the mic, trying to insert some extra swag into my walk so I'd look more experienced than I was. The music began and I reached up to hold the mic stand as I started to sing.

“You're mean to me. Why must you be mean to me?” Marty looked up with a look of surprise.

“Gee, honey. It seems to me. You love to see me crying.” Tony gave me a big thumbs up to encourage me.

“I don't know why. I stay home. Each night when you say you'll phone.” I started to see the band members nodding and smiling to each other.

“You don't and I'm left alone. Singing the blues and crying.” I saw a couple of men come from the back room to see who was singing, but I couldn't make out their faces in the dark room.

I was ecstatic to see such a great reception, and I was pretty sure I'd gotten the job. As the song swelled to the harder part, I focused on hitting all the right notes and making the song sound as sexy as possible.

I saw one of the men who'd come in from the back signal to Marty, but I didn't know what the signal meant. I peeked at Marty, but I couldn't read his expression. He made me wait until the end of the song.

“Ok, kiddo. You got the gig. We'll see how tonight goes, and if you do well, we'll talk about something permanent.” Marty showed no emotion. I'd gotten the impression that he'd gone through a lot of singers, and didn't expect any better from me. “Guys,” He yelled over the sound of instruments playing different sections of the songs and talking among themselves. “We start a full practice in ½ an hour, so go get some food now. We're gonna be busy tonight.” He dismissed the band with the same lack of emotion as when he'd hired me.

Tony ran to me as excited as me. “You did it, doll!” He hugged me tight. Then started to lead me outside. “Lets get some chow.” He said as he pointed to a diner across the ally from the speakeasy.

As we sat down, I asked, “So, does Marty want me here or what?”

Tony chuckled under his breath, “Oh yeah yeah! He doesn't show emotion,” he explained. “But don't worry. You're in!” He assured me.

“I didn't know what the signal was from the guys in the back.... or even who they were.” I explained.

“Yeah, Hey. So....” Tony paused. “Ya know not to talk about... ya know.”

He didn't finish his thought, but I knew what he meant. Although I'd never spent any time in this seedy underworld, I was no dummy. “Say no more.” I replied.

“Ok. If you have any questions, just come to me, but not at the club.” He assured me. “Just focus on singing and let them do their stuff.” His gaze bored a hole in me, and I nodded in understanding. “Most importantly,” Tony reached over and put his hand on my arm, “DON'T get romantically involved with any one there. Do you understand?”

“You don't have to worry. I know who they are.” I assured him.

Tony was like a big brother to me. He'd been a regular at the diner where I worked; me always starting my day as he was ending his over breakfast. We became great friends, and Tony and his wife had taken me under their wing, inviting me over for dinner, watching out for me. Working at the speakeasy wasn't what Tony and his wife wanted for me, but when I couldn't get a theater job, they had finally given in and got me the audition. Tony had promised his wife that he'd protect me from the going ons of the club.

After dinner, I sat with Marty going over what songs I knew and what songs I needed to get to know in order to keep working there. He was pleasantly surprised at my song knowledge, and we both felt we had enough to put on a good show tonight. It was perfect because Marty had had to sing himself since losing their last singer. We went over the songs with the band until we were comfortable with each other's styles.

Afterward, I practiced in the back, pouring over the pages of sheet music Marty gave me while tinkering the notes out on an old, out-of-tune piano in a side room, hoping to add in some of these songs soon. The closer we got to show time, the more anxious I got. It was more than if I'd be entertaining... I was worried about getting arrested. Tony had assured me that if the cops came in, and I couldn't get away in time, he'd bail me out before morning, but still. A proper girl like me didn't get arrested. What would my parents think if they were alive? I pushed those thoughts out of my head and tried to focus on the music again.

I heard the band start, happy music flooding through the whole building. I peaked out at the crowd and was shocked to see the club almost full already. What surprised me the most was the class of the people in the club. I had expected to see hardened criminals and desolate prostitutes, but instead, the crowd was full of Chicago's best. Ladies in fine dresses with fringes everywhere. Men in tuxedo suits sporting walking sticks and monocles. I glanced at my own aged floor length dress that I'd bought from a theater who was throwing it out, and lamented at the state of it. Would these rich muckedy mucks accept me in this ragged thing? Before looking at them, I thought I'd looked good, but now. Now, I was wracked with every insecurity I'd ever felt.

I saw Tony rise from his seat at the bandstand and come backstage to me. “You ready?” He asked all excited.

“Tony!” I almost started crying. “Those people. They're all so fancy. This dress is so old and ratty.” I started to say, but he placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Doll, the minute you open your mouth, everyone is going to fall in love with you. You've got the voice of an angel. We can buy you more dresses when you get paid. In the meantime, don't worry about it. You look amazing, and the stage lights are going to hide any imperfections in the dress.” He gave me a quick hug as I heard Marty announce me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, We've got a special treat for you this evening.” How the hell did Marty have emotion now? He sounded positively jovial. I guess he was just a good actor. “Tonight, for the first time at Club Red, we are proud to present our new singer, Y/N.”

The crowd responded to Marty's happy announcement with excited applause. Tony took my arm and escorted me out to stage, depositing me in front of the mic before taking his own seat in the horn section.

We started with Ain't Misbehavin', and the crowd went silent as they focused on me. I prayed they were enjoying the performance, and I poured every ounce of energy I could muster into making the song sound sexy. I wasn't sure how I was doing until the song ended, and the crowd went nuts! They were applauding and giving me standing ovations. I even heard some lewd whistles from near the back where the mob guys had been earlier. I was a hit!

When I turned to find out what song we were singing next, Marty smiled warmly at me. “You did great.” He whispered just to me. “Am I Blue” is next.

The music sounded and the crowd quieted as the slow song changed the mood in the room.

“Am I blue? Am I blue? Ain't these tears in my eyes tellin' you.”

Marty whispered over my shoulder, “Go walk through the crowd, engage them.” he encouraged.

“Am I blue?” I slowly left the stage, pleasantly surprised when the spot light followed me with no notice. “You'd be too. If each plan with your man just fell through.” I placed my hand on a lady's shoulder emphasizing the phrase and she reached up to pat my hand in understanding. I wandered to another table. “Was a time. I was his only one.” I crooned to a table of men, and they smiled broadly at me. “Now I'm the sad and lonely one.” I continued to wander through the crowded room, placing my hand on a shoulder here, singing closely into a gentleman's ear there. The crowd was eating it up. “Now he's gone, and we're through. Am I blue?”

My eyes settled on a man at the table next to me in the back of the room. He was quite frankly the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, with a chiseled jaw, perfect black hair, sparkling blue eyes and his black tuxedo, black shirt and white bow tie matched by a white pocket square. He oozed money and sex. Logically, his table should have been the next I visited, but the way he was looking at me... lustfully... deterred me, and I skipped his table. He made no indication that my turn away from his table bothered him, but his eyes didn't leave me for the rest of the song causing butterflies in my stomach. He gazed so intently at me, I felt like he could see through my dress to my naked body.

I managed to gather my wits again as the song ended and I walked back up to the stage. This job was too important to me. It was this or I ended up being the one in the bread lines tomorrow. I couldn't let anyone, not even this wickedly beautiful man, get in the way of me making this money.

I stayed on the stage the rest of the night. I already had the crowd eating out of the palm of my hand, I didn't need to pander to them anymore. At the end of each song, the crowd cheered for me, and I noticed the lone man in the back smile as he gauged the mood of the crowd.

It was late... very late.... and I was tired when the show ended. “Heya doll. How bout I give ya a ride home?” Tony said as I started leaving the club with an extra few bucks in my pocket as the sun peeked over the horizon.

I was so tired, I could barely speak, but I nodded yes to Tony. He was full of energy, praising my performance, telling me how happy he was. Saying he was sure I'd be hired permanently tomorrow. I fell asleep in the gently rocking car, and Tony laughed when he had to wake me up. “Guess you're gonna have to get used to the schedule.” He teased. “Good thing you're not working at the diner this morning.” After I thanked him for the ride, Tony watched until I was safely in my apartment building before heading to the diner to get some breakfast before he went to bed. I didn't care that I was hungry, I took off my dress and fell asleep in my underclothes.

I dreamed of music notes flying through the air, of gathering them in a bag and presenting them on beautiful sheet music to the guests. I dreamed of the smoky bar and the man seated in the back and that he paid me for one of my music sheets, a small contained smile on his lips.

#Fergal Devitt Finn Balor

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