#but it DIDN'T leave a mark despite landing a hit! so now he's even MORE confused! the shadow was SIMILAR but not quite the same thing

[blujayonthewing]

Gimmiiiieee secret for one of those funky gnomes?

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

After her friend and mentor, the circus' escape artist, died in a suspicious water escape accident, Idri's had an intense fear of deep water and of drowning. She doesn't want anyone to know about it partly because she finds it embarrassing, and partly just because it's connected to something painful that she's trying to 'cope with' by just simply Never Thinking About It Ever. She ALSO, more recently, has a more serious but less personal secret, which is that it turns out said mentor was not actually killed in that incident, but that his death was faked by a friend who knew he was being targeted for murder, and secretly took his place... he still has enemies, and fears that if word gets out that he's not actually dead, it might put more of his friends and colleagues in danger. Idri takes his trusting her with this information very seriously, and is determined to never tell a soul.

Melliwyk honestly fucking hates secrets at this point in the adventure, lmao. No more secrets! No fucking secrets forever!! They only ever cause problems she's so sick of things being kept secret for ~good reasons~ that always just make everything worse for no reason!! I mean she probably has some personal things that are private or embarrassing that she wouldn't want people to know about, obviously, who doesn't, but even a lot of those things are either widely known even if not necessarily by her friends (the incident with her former roommate), or things she's told them by now (the fact that her 'hood' is a novelty nightcap enchanted to give the wearer pleasant dreams, and she wears it all the time because she's nightmare-prone, especially when she unexpectedly falls asleep)

Felix went missing for awhile. He has no idea what happened during most of that time, but the last thing he remembers was witnessing a caravan camped just off the road being attacked by.... something. Huge, looming humanoid shapes of pure darkness, seemingly draining the life essence of the people in the caravan. He was spotted before he had a chance to do anything, and a creature grabbed his arm, but a voice called for it to leave him alone... After he woke up, he found his skin had turned completely grey where the creature touched him; it doesn't hurt or feel different in any way, and the mark hasn't spread, although the hand was so big that its print takes up most of his arm. He's been trying to learn literally anything about what he saw and what happened to him, but he hasn't told anybody, and he keeps his arm covered at all times.

Indigo would hate if the truth got out about what happened to their eye, where they now have an obviously false golden one. It's not, like, actually a big deal, but they give a different answer every time anyone asks, so if people knew the truth it would ruin the bit. Indigo lies recreationally so there are a lot of things about their personal life and backstory that they keep dead secret for no other particular reason than that it's fun for them. The only thing cooler than having been mentored by an ancient dragon is casually never ever mentioning it, you know?

ask about my characters! :3c

[ofglories]

"i wasn't done," tristram replied, with a smile that appeared far too amused with events playing out and his childhood friend's suffering, directly plainly towards dinadan's way. "i am very grateful to be heard out, your highness, and so i can continue from here!"

surely dinadan's hard as rock head could deal with meeting the table again. at this time, the others would surely want to join in too, as if to allow the pain to drown out their focus rather than listening to tristram's tale.

"go eat your oats, your appetite may not be as large as sir percival's, but you still eat a fair share to make up for all your farming. where was i? oh yes. after dinadan's timely arrival, he revealed to me that i was on the land of cornwall. oh how these things end up working out, yet i still was unaware of this, as he guided me to king mark. though truly it's my skill in hunting and instruments that helped, as we had yet to know that we were actually family, yet i had felt a kinship with him at that time, but in any case he eventually took me in as retainer. of course, such natural grace and handsome face that i was gifted, everyone there would wonder who my family is. to be blunt, i lied, claiming to be the son of a merchant from parmenie."

well, more of a white lie; he didn't know anything of where he is at the time. though in the three years he'd remained under king mark's care, his ( foster ) father rual had been searching long for him every day, leaving behind his mother and brothers behind. while he kept the lie up, the only one that had the sense that there's more to tristram's tale was dinadan, and the only person that bothered to prod further for details; until the faithful day that rual arrived.

"after all that, i learn that the father i had known my entire life up to that moment wasn't actually my own flesh and blood father! young me ended up crying because i had felt that i lost two fathers that day: the one i had known that whole time and the father that had already died," he said, very matter of fact, despite what sudden trauma that would be to any child at the time. it's no wonder that he is like he is. "but really i ended up still having the father i always did, and gained another in king mark."

well. for a time. but he persisted with his smile, poking at his best friend's face now to get a rise out of him further.

|| Unprompted asks ; always accepting!

"I, ah... That wasn't..." Arthur trailed off again, smiling weakly in the face of Tristram's determination to continue speaking. That hadn't been intended as an invitation to continue speaking, he wanted to say so badly but now he was trapped. Here he'd been hoping for one ordinary breakfast when the day had started so nicely. A desperate glance from the corner of his eyes at first Bedivere and Kay was the only plea for help he could manage. So this was why Guinevere preferred to take her meals in her private rooms, he understood now.

Another groan of disgust from Dinadan as his head once more hit the oak table.

"Eat yer own oats and leave us outta yer dumb stories," the Cornish knight muttered under his break, glaring up at his childhood friend mutinously. "My farmin' 's what puts the food on this table, food yer ignorin' to talk about yerself. Kay's 'ard work bein' ignored for dramatics."

Dramatics and exaggerations. Dinadan snorted, smushing his face harder against the wood. Bors looked even more stricken than before, hands raised before his mouth. Gareth rolled her eyes, mouthing "natural grace" and "handsome face" with a look reminiscent of someone examining a particularly fat slug. Her green eyes were flinty, the tense line of her jaws indicating how she was holding herself back from saying something they would all likely regret. Underneath the King's chair came a low whine from the wolf-knight, probably as miserable as the rest hearing this pack of blatant nonsense.

Bless Sir Bors' innocent heart for looking so genuinely moved. Dinadan would have to talk to Lionel about that kind of naivete in his younger brother later.

As the story finally reached a conclusion and Dinadan snapped his teeth ineffectually at the offending finger jabbing his cheek, there was only silence in the dining hall. Before Gawain snorted, loudly, and stood with a clatter. Lancelot jolted beside him, eyes going wide at the muttering coming from the Maiden's Knight as he turned to leave with a short bow to his uncle.

"Like a father, aye. If that's what you've got to tell yourself," Gawain called out over his shoulder, a mocking smirk on his face at Tristram.

[tobiasdrake]

Having completed Sonic Frontiers, I now feel confident saying that this is the best Sonic game I've played in years and it leaves me very hopeful about the future of the franchise.

I've heard it said that Sonic games typically aim for a 7 and consistently manage to hit their mark, while Frontiers aimed for a 10 and landed at an 8. That sounds about right to me.

Spoilers to follow.

First of all, the PLOT is back. Do you remember when Sonic used to have, like, characters? And continuity? After the failure of '06, Sonic Team basically had a panic attack and fired the ENTIRE CAST. Even Tails barely managed to hang on as a minor character.

That always felt like an overreaction. Yeah, the cast was getting really bloated. Like, we didn't need Shadow and Rouge shoehorned into every game. But you don't fire Tails, Knuckles, and Amy. Those characters are the mainstays.

And we picked up Orbot and Cubot. But. Like. Does anyone really care about Orbot and Cubot? They're really more of a recurring joke than characters. I was honestly surprised by their staying power, especially during a time when all the interesting characters were banned from ever appearing again.

Frontiers welcomes back Tails, Knuckles, and Amy with open arms. And that feels right. Other characters should be able to come and go, but Sonic needs some regulars to have his back.

But it wasn't just a return to form. It honestly feels like moving forward. The characters feel like they're maturing. Sonic and Amy are able to have honest, open conversations about their respective needs, wants, and goals. Knuckles is ready to leave his solitude behind and experience the world. Tails wants to take some time to find himself and his identity outside of being Sonic's pal.

It feels like everyone's growing up. And that's. Amazing.

(Yes, I know Tails already did the "I can be more than Sonic's sidekick" thing back in Sonic Adventure. But that's kinda the point. Whether he's Sonic's sidekick or Sonic's equal partner, he's still defining himself by Sonic. He wants to find out who he is without Sonic.)

Despite his age, even Eggman isn't immune to the "Everyone's growing up" thing, coming out of this with a child that he dearly loves and a new sense of responsibility. And can I just say, Sage is awesome and I hope we keep her.

I mean. Shadow got to die tragically at the end of his game and then abruptly resurrect himself and become a series staple, so there's a precedent for it. And the seed's already been planted in the post-credits scene for Sage to do the same. I look forward to seeing her again.

Speaking of things coming back, I'm pleased to see Super Sonic boss fights set to empowering fight music for maximum catharsis finally make their return. And we got four of them to make up for lost time.

That said, there are places where the gameplay needs improvement. The Portal Levels could use more aesthetic variety rather than reusing the same 3 or 4 zones, and I'm pretty sure I caught them just reusing entire pieces of levels from Sonic Generations a few times. The story tries to cover for this by explaining that the levels are pulled from Sonic's memory, but I dunno. Seems lazy.

But the Portal Levels are short and fast-paced enough that I rarely stopped to notice. Aesthetically samey and occasionally copy/pasted as they were, I had fun with them nonetheless.

What I really didn't like was the Starfall mechanic. After a while, I stopped bothering to fight the big scary boss monsters that spawned on the map because what's the point? If they're just going to respawn in a few minutes then there's not really any point in fighting them.

Would have been better to let you permanently kill them, but have the option to respawn them if you wanted to fight them again. That way the sense of progression is preserved while still making them available for rematches.

In Breath of the Wild, the game they shamelessly stole this mechanic from, the entire game was built from the ground up around a theme of entropy. That's why this mechanic was there: Because even your accomplishments are destined to decay with the passage of time. Nothing is eternal. Nothing truly lasts. All things inevitably decay.

Sonic Frontiers feels like they're just doing it because BOTW did. But Frontiers isn't about entropy. It's about... Well, Frontiers. Exploring and discovering your way through this new place, building shortcuts and paving new paths as you go. Resetting your progress with the minibosses every now and then feels antithetical to the flow of the game.

All in all, it feels like there's a lot to build or improve upon. But it nonetheless feels like the Sonic franchise has finally recovered from the trauma of '06 and is moving in the right direction. I'm excited to see where they go from here.

[lunaetis]

@crimsontroupe asked :

The sound of metal hitting against grass is heard as he misses his mark; there are no practice weapons, only the real deal. There are no practice weapons on the battlefield, just the certainty of death. After a moment, Equinox straightens his back and removes his sword from the ground - bringing with it dirt and bits of grass.

There is something she said to him, once. He has been thinking of it since then. Wordlessly, he gestures that this would be enough sparring for the day. Sits down without saying anything, brows furrowed. It has been haunting him, he acknowledges. Refuses to admit it out loud as he cleans his weapon. "... What did you mean by--"

Ah. He catches himself too late. And Eula is now looking at him. For some reason, his face feels slightly warm. How stupid. How-- simply --- argh. "See, you talked to me some time ago about what you do. Do you not feel... angry? That people will never see you for what you are?" He simply cannot ask her if she wanted to throw everything up in the air and leave. That kind of reckless attitude is what he would do (and what he did). Equinox sighs and scratches his head, messing up his hair more in the process. "I get it, but it's... not fair to you. Makes me almost angry in your behalf. But I can't just go yelling at people from a place I don't even belong to. That'd just cause you trouble.

But it's still not fair. You deserve more. And you deserve better."

unprompted. || always accepting

─「エウルア」─  if the OUTRIDER had seen them now, she probably would be scolding both of them for how serious they took their sparring and practice sessions. the SPINDRIFT KNIGHT and the dark warrior are always like this, despite it being practice fights, they made it as real as possible. in the lives they both lived, there are no redo, no retry, so they took it seriously. often, they'd make each other BLEED and caused others around them to think they were really after each other's neck. that was never the case, however, but it wouldn't stop them from going all-out when they faced one another. not to mention, they were keeping scores, and it had been a TIE for quite some time.

                spinning herself around, the knight captain had her dual-colored hues landed upon him after the signal had been understood. his words, however, drew her attention from cleaning her trusted blade and head tilted to the side with curiosity presented in those eyes. his following sentences came rather unexpected, however, and her gaze softened.

                " you see me for what i am, no ? " the tone she carried was soft, if her eyes that were looking at him didn't speak of her feelings already. but in all honesty, she knew what he meant. what he was trying to convey. which was why she quickly followed up with a small thoughtful hum, head tilting upwards to look at the sky, then glancing out into the horizon line, seeing the CITY OF MONDSTADT in her line of vision. " not exactly angry, i suppose. it does make me sad, and a little lonely, sometimes. " if it were anyone else posing the same question, she would never admit this. the LAWRENCE HEIR would never allowed any others to see her in such a state, or to confess to feeling the sharp pain inside her heart every time she cannot escape the shadow of her family name.

                you deserve more. and you deserve better.

                her HEART did that thing, how it was skipping its beat when he said that. she knew, after all, of the fury he harbored and how he was getting angry on her behalf. she saw every time he bared his fangs at strangers, and his hand that gripped upon his claymore as though ready to use it against someone who treated her poorly. every single time, it made her heart pound in more ways than one.

                a place I don't even belong to.

                " say, nox — " the words were swallowed down her throat, for a split second, and she showed a hint of hesitation to the things she was contemplating to say. lips thinned, and gloved digits toyed with the hilt of her claymore, feet scraping against the grassy ground slightly. a show of doubt, but only for a moment. " what do you think about the knights ? ordo favonius ? " he was someone who thinks, and acts, like a knight. at least that was what she felt, and she looked at him almost expectantly, almost hopefully. the KNIGHT CAPTAIN could feel her cheeks reddening slightly, fingers thrust behind her light locks, and tucked a few strands to her ear.

                another second passed, and the silence was broken on her part.

                " what would you say ... about becoming a knight of favonius ? "

                if i asked, would you join the knights, for me ? i want to be with you.

[pro-anomalocaris]

I didn't bother protesting my innocence at this point.

It wasn't that I hadn't done that with a few people, those who seemed at least marginally sympathetic, the ones who failed to maintain the stoicism demanded of their positions as guards. Though it was a foregone conclusion that I would fail, fear of failure had never stayed my hand, so I pleaded my case where I could. This deep into two centuries of rule by the Vardengaards, no one tried to advocate for anyone anymore, lest they find themselves being told to touch the sword themselves. There was nothing personal in this slight. They were simply people with families who could not afford to risk everything for a stranger, least of all a Native-Lander.

The thought occurred to me that I had never heard of a Korstovian being executed in Korstovia for stealing medicine. I was not particularly surprised by this revelation, though it did make me lock eyes with the head guard as I was marched to my death. He surprised me. I never expected the one to supervise the end of my life to be as Native as I was. His eyes were the same purple that marked us both as part of the original people of the land, but he'd traded in all old garb for shining armor and chainmail. How necessary was chainmail, these days? No one I could think of would ever risk striking a guard operating on behalf of the crown. Maybe it boosted his morale.

My morale wasn't as low as it could have been as I was marched to the square where the Sword of Sanyati lay, resting atop a rock where the light always seemed to hit it. I'd saved a life. That was sufficient. I had lived a good life, had helped many people survive by lifting a loaf of bread there, a tincture here. Shame was a folly in which I did not partake. I would not be made to apologize for doing the right thing simply because the Vardengaards felt poverty was punishment for sin and therefore was not to be fought against. With every eye in the square on me, I kept my head held high and my back straight.

Every step on the cobblestone seemed to echo in my ears. The Sword of Sanyati looked so innocent, almost normal, save for the blue-white blade. It was strange to see the end of my life approach. How long had I expected to live? I truly wasn't sure. Thirty-two seemed a strange age to die for a man not a soldier. Sweat beaded on my brow despite my blank expression as I glanced at the crowd. They were watching idly, not terribly interested. Each death was the same. This, too, was nothing personal. That was the problem, I thought; everything in this kingdom was cold, impersonal, just business, just following orders, just keeping the 'peace'. Maybe that was why I could refrain from total panic. It was as good a place to leave as any.

At least the love of my life and my family were alive and free. At least I had not totally wasted my time on this Earth.

My stomach twisted as I looked at the Sword. Now that the moment was upon me, it hardly seemed real. There was so much I hadn't gotten to do. There were so many things I should have done better. So scattered and rapid were my thoughts as I reached out that I didn't even have the wits needed to reply when asked for my last words. I felt cold and feverish all at once. Would those things be the last sensations I ever felt? How rare and beautiful it is, my mother used to say, to even exist. I tried to find some beauty in having a body for the last few seconds I did so.

I didn't bother trying to hide the shakiness of my arm as I reached out to touch the Sword of Sanyati. I was not a magnificent martyr for a higher moral cause, I was what I had always been: the son of olive farmers, trying his best to get through the day. Someone in the crowd laughed. It sounded as far away as the flatlands the Korstovians had come from. In a state more real and more dreamlike than I'd ever felt, I reached out and wrapped my hand around the Sword's hilt.

For the first time in living memory, the Sword allowed itself to be lifted. That scarcely registered. My sole focus was on the end about to come for me.

As I raised it, the reflection I saw in the Sword was not mine. My purple eyes locked with an amber gaze so bright it stole my breath away.

All sound in the world went away.

It was as if someone had cut the hurdy-gurdy strings of the world. I blinked and was engulfed in total silence. All around me the colors of the world became washed out, greyer, while I watched the eyes in the Sword grow brighter. As I squinted at it, I could make out the reflection of a face more clearly; dark hair that was wavy as my own, a crown of crystals atop a head, and strangely familiar eyes. The winter's chill left me. I swallowed and couldn't hear it. Unable to even think of what else to do, I waited.

"Garmir," a voice said in the Native tongue, light and clear and ladylike, "son of Anissia and Taqdir, grandson of Olar and Marta, grandson of Stavmir and Nalaitha."

I nodded, a bit dazed. I knew the woman in the Sword was the one speaking, even if I could not see her mouth.

"I speak with each who are forced to come to me. I have heard of the Vardengaards. These people have taken food from the hungry, medicine from the sick, heat from the cold, clothes from the naked. This land is rich enough to service all who stand here. Instead they let not only the Natives but their own suffer. They have lost the right to the kingdom."

At that, I knew not what to say. Many among us had thought that for many a year. I, son of olive farmers, a humble leatherworker, could not imagine why she was saying it to me. If I'd had the power to fix this, I would have done so long ago.

"Despair not, son of Taqdir. I am Sanyati, the One Who Creates. Through you, I shall restore balance to our land." She tilted her head slightly, studying my frowning expression. "You have objections?"

"I am not swordsman, nor am I a man of high valor or intellect. Why work through me," I couldn't help but wonder, "when so many others are better suited to the task?"

"Because," Sanyati replied coolly, "though you think it a fool's errand, you are nonetheless already prepared in your heart to attempt it. You would make them bleed for each inch of soil they've taken and then die rather than refuse to make the attempt."

"Ah. So you required a fool." I looked into her calm, steady eyes, and found myself unable to say she was wrong. "Alright. I suppose I do have one thing going for me tactically: if I don't know what I'm doing, the enemy certainly can't anticipate my next move."

It was a madman's strategy.

The Vardengaards were mad. Often, to prevent a fire from spreading, a chunk of the forest must be burnt away first.

I blinked and the world was in color and sound again, though looking around, it seemed not a second had passed for the people in the square. The hush that fell over them as I turned and held the sword up to catch the sunlight had my heart pounding as much as theirs did. All eyes were on me again. Now, though, the energy was entirely different, and guards and civilians alike stepped away as I stepped forward. I gazed at the captain of the guard, the traitor to our people who, I knew, was not a bad man at heart, simply a man acting under duress suffering under an oppressor.

"Take me to the King."

Anyone who tried to wield the legendary sword would instantly turn to dust. Your country uses this as a method of execution. Little did you know, you were the chosen one it was waiting for.

[pure-garbage]

Torture And Torment! A Nightmarish Treasure Hunt

Chapter Warnings: Torture, Language, Self-harm. Minors DNI

"What a bust," Nami grumbled. "I still can't believe someone got to the treasure before us."

"I think we have bigger things to worry about right now," Lana groaned. She tugged fruitlessly against the chains securing her to the dungeon's stone wall. Behind her, she could hear footsteps growing ever closer. "Nami, I've got pins in the lining of my dress... kick your shoes off and see if you can reach them with your toes."

"Huh?! How flexible do you think I am anyway?!" Nami demanded. She was manacled the same way Lana was, hands high over her head facing the wall of the ancient fortress it would seem their captors were using as a temporary base of operations.

"We have to try something! No one's coming for us! As far as they know, we're still exploring the ruins with Robin on the other side of the island."

"Yeah, in hindsight we really should have told someone before we rushed off following that map," Nami sighed. The map in question had been found clutched in a case held tight by a skeleton, presumably the last person to try finding it. The straw hats might have taken it as a bad omen, but a series of avaricious assumptions led them to disregard it and press on instead.

"We got excited, I didn't think of it either," Lana admitted. "Now come on and try to get my pins so we can get out of here."

"Even if I can manage to get them with my toes- which is a stretch already, by the way- there's no way I can get my feet up to your hands!"

"I'll grab them with my teeth."

"From my toes?!"

"You got a better idea?!"

"Ooh, an idea? Do share."

The girls tensed together, casting their gazes over their shoulders in sync. It was the man who'd captured them.

"Blow dart man!" Lana growled. "That was a dirty trick you pulled back there!"

"My signature blooming gas dart?" he smiled. "My pride and joy, that one is. I designed it specially to deal with fighters skilled enough to block my darts before they hit... the grand line is simply crawling with such warriors and I had to adapt. I'm very adaptable, you see. You should feel flattered. I only use that one on the most formidable opponents."

"Well excuse me if I'm not thrilled with your sneaky little 'compliment'," Lana sneered. "Let me and my friend go or you'll live to regret it. The rest of our crew is looking for us as we speak. They'll tear you limb from limb if you lay a finger on us!"

"Mm, you're just as feisty as your friend," blow dart man smirked. He licked his lips lecherously while the straw hat girls scowled at him. "I'll be happy to unchain you... just as soon as you tell me where you stashed that treasure."

"Too easy," Nami smiled. "There was no treasure. Or rather, it was already long gone by the time we found that chest. So you really don't have any more business with us. Time to let us go."

He laughed out loud.

"You can't seriously expect me to believe such an obvious lie," he chuckled.

"It's not a lie!" Lana protested. "Now unchain us!"

"Don't worry, I understand," blow dart man assured them. "If I found such a cache of jewels, I wouldn't give up its location easily either. I'm glad you two want to take this route... it's more fun this way. And I came prepared."

He pulled a whip from his belt, unfurling it with a crack that resounded deafeningly off the stone walls. Lana gulped hard, meeting Nami's eyes to find them full of terror.

"Yeah, we stepped in it this time," Lana informed her, voice shaking a little despite her best efforts to stay calm.

_______________________________________________

Lana could feel blood dripping down her back, warm and wet. The stinging of the welts was intense, but she thought only one of blow dart man's lashes landed hard enough to break the skin. Rage filled her, boiling up and stopping at the back of her throat where she swallowed her cries out of spite.

'This bastard's playing with us. He's not interested in leaving marks, he just wants to hear us scream.'

It was Nami's turn now, her cries filling the air as the man set upon her with the same glee he had Lana.

'This is bad! Even if I could reach my pins, I can't use them with him watching us! He'll take them away before I can get free! And this sadistic son of a bitch shows no signs of letting up! Maybe... we can trick him somehow. Talking our way out of this might be our only option...'

Above, a commotion gave their tormentor pause. Screams, shouts, the unmistakable clang of shattering steel...

"What the hell are those idiots doing up there?!" he demanded.

"Sounds like a fight," Lana observed, seizing the opportunity. "My bet? Our crew's come to collect us. You're really screwed now, blow dart bastard!"

"That so? We'll just see about that."

He left and excitement shot through Lana like an arrow, invigorating and urgent. She knew there was no way their crew had found them, not this quickly, not on an island this size, but she was sure she could take the bastard if she could just get free.

'His darts are only dangerous until you figure out the trick. If I catch them instead of breaking them, they're harmless. I'm gonna tear this smug son of a bitch limb from limb!'

"Nami! Can you move?" Lana whispered harshly.

"I... I..."

The only thing holding her upright were the chains. Nami wasn't used to taking this kind of beating. She was in no shape to help Lana break them out.

"Don't worry about it," Lana panted. "I'll get us out of here. Just hang on for me, 'kay?"

'I need to reach my pins...'

Lana wound the chains around her wrists, grunting with pain and exertion as she struggled to pull her body higher. The pins were concealed at her waist.

'... Just a little more...'

She reached the base of the chain where it moored to the wall and strained, pulling herself up toward her hands. Her muscles ached and the stripes on her back stung, but she pressed on.

'I can do it! Almost there!'

A thrill shot through her. Her torso was level with her hands now. If she could just reach inside the lining...

Her fingers shook from the effort it took to hold herself up. The chains dug agonizingly into her forearms, leaving her hands numb as the constricting metal cut off blood flow.

'So close... move, fingers! Damn it!'

Lana loosed a growl of frustration, nearly snarling as she fought through pain and tangled fabric. Her own body had no interest in contorting the way she needed it to, but she bent it to her will nonetheless, resolve overcoming duress as she finally gasped her pins.

"Yes! Got them!" she crowed triumphantly.

Footsteps stole her attention, dragging a startled gasp from her and breaking her concentration. Several people were heading their way this time.

'Crap!'

_________________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[mint-yooxgi]

Hello :) Can I pls request alpha yan! Mark finding his human mate?

The feeling had hit him like a truck. Mark should know, he was literally struck by one just as he felt the bond snap into place.

A few of his pack mates had gone for a run and he decided to tag along. As they were crossing the mountain pass which curved ever so dangerously towards the steep drop below where the forest resides, he caught an unfamiliar scent in the air. It had distracted him, enough so that he didn't register the honk of the oncoming vehicle, nor the flash of bright lights rounding the corner.

Mark had gone flying, his pack mates howling as he had landed with a harsh thud on the side of the road. Blood soaked the ground around him as his brothers had surrounded him, but through all the haze of pain, only one thing was on his mind. He had finally found you. After so long searching, you, his mate, had finally appeared.

Euphoria doesn't even begin to describe what he was feeling, and soon the pain faded, only leaving a dull ache in his bones.

One thought kept flitting through his mind, over and over again as his brothers practically dragged him back home. Mark needed to find you. He needed to meet you and finally see you in person. Here you were, so close to him, yet still so far away due to his carelessness.

Two weeks later, after he had fully healed and received a stern lecture on the safety of his well being from Taeyong, Johnny, and Haechan, he was finally able to trace your scent. Oh, how tempting it had been, too. The call of the bond urging him to sneak out while he was recovering to find you, to claim you like he so badly wanted and was meant to do.

He followed your scent to a small coffee shop in town, seeing you sitting by the window reading a book, and he swears his whole world stopped. There you were, the literal definition of perfection in his eyes, so oblivious to the longing pair of eyes that watched you from across the street. So unaware of the gaze that now beheld his entire world.

Mark was never one to drink much coffee, but he forced himself to make his way over and order something. You had looked up when he had walked walked in, the bell above the door chiming in time with his racing heart as he did his best to act oblivious.

Your gaze was like a warmth upon his skin, like basking in the sun's rays on a spring day in his favourite meadow as the wind ruffles through his fur and the birds sing all around him. It was then that he could see a glimpse of the future. His future together with you, sitting in that meadow with him and brushing your fingers through his hair.

The image of you looking at him with such a tender gaze, one full of love and affection, of longing and want, but more than all of that, of happiness nearly sends him to his knees right then and there. In fact, he's so distracted by his little fantasy, he barely registers his name being called out once his drink is ready. One thing he does notice, however, is the way your gaze lingers on his form as he leaves the coffee shop, despite every instinct within himself screaming for him to turn back, to stay with you by your side where he's meant to be. Where he's always meant to be.

And so, it continues like this for a few weeks back and forth. Mark trying desperately to take things slow, to court you in a proper setting the way modern times call for. The last thing he wants to do is scare you off before things truly even begin between the both of you. After all, once he has you, you'll have all of eternity with one another to figure things out.

You don't traverse the coffee shop every day, much to Mark's disappointment, but when you do, he always makes sure to make an appearance. Some days, he arrives to find you sitting in that same spot by the window, reading a new book or working on something on your laptop. Other times, you're just sitting there, watching the street from your spot and enjoying your drink. Either way, you can always count on Mark to be keeping a close eye on you in some way or other. Whether it be from over the top of his own book he's brought with him, or under the guise of listening to music while enjoying his drink, he always makes sure he knows exactly what you're doing.

There have even been a few times where Mark has followed you home. Taking on the form of his wolf, he stalks through the shadows, keeping a close eye on you and keeping you safe. Protecting you is his number one priority, and fuck, if he ever let anything happen to you he would never be able to forgive himself, let alone live with the consequences.

The one night, not two days ago, you had left your window open.

Mark knew it wasn't right to snoop, but those urges were just so strong, whispering for him to make sure that you were safe. After all, if he could get in, so could someone else. Honestly, it's a good thing he is around to protect you; what would you do without him?

Under the stillness of the moon, he had snuck into your bedroom.

As soon as his feet touched the floor, his eyes had flashed and he knew that this was probably a mistake. If your scent had affected him before, being directly surrounded by it now made him absolutely feral.

Taking a cautious step towards you, sleeping so soundly on your bed and blissfully unaware as to the monster creeping through your room, his hands had twitched. The urge to reach out and touch you, to run his fingers over that delicate skin he so badly wanted to feel beneath his own was overwhelming.

Over and over again, he could hear his beast growling in his mind.

Mine.

Mate.

My Mate.

Mine.

With each step towards you, Mark was finding it harder and harder to control himself. Oh, how easy it would be to take you now. To say to hell with his original notion of taking things slow and just claim you as his own. It's what most of his brothers were telling him to do, anyways...

But, no. He can wait. He would never do that to you; force that upon you. You're worth it, and he is not a wild animal. Besides, it's only a matter of time now before you're his and he's yours, just like it was always meant to be.

That still didn't stop him from taking a piece of your clothing, though. For safe keeping, of course.

After that night, Mark started getting more bold. He started glancing at you more when he entered the shop. (A great decision on his part, honestly, his heart nearly combusted the first time you smiled at him). It became sort of routine at this point, for him to enter, meet your gaze, for you to smile back, or even his favourite, shoot him a little wave.

He even started to follow you home in his human form. Still keeping to the shadows, obviously, Mark would trail you, indulging in his fantasies of the day where you'd be going home together instead of just by yourself.

It was on one of these nights that everything went horribly wrong.

Mark had been feeling pretty good about the events of the evening. He got lucky, and the book he had brought with him had managed to be the same book you had just started to read. You had shared a quick little chuckle at that, and Mark had been over the moon. Knowing that he was the one who made you smile, to express such joy through your laughter was a feeling like no other.

All of that bliss had quickly shattered, though, when he realized that he wasn't the only one following you home that night.

The guy- the human- had been on you in an instant, pulling you into the darkness of the alleyway just before your house. Mark could hear your frantic heartbeats, the fear rolling off of you in waves as your pleas to let you go had fallen on seemingly deaf ears.

It had taken Mark no less than a second to rip that disgusting excuse of a human off of you. A second later to tear into his throat with his teeth, a snarl escaping him as his eyes flashed that all too familiar golden hue.

Spitting out the bitter chunk of flesh from his mouth, Mark felt a certain sense of pride swell in his chest. A smugness settled over him at being able to protect you, and prove to you just how well he could keep you safe.

He had turned to you then, blood running down his chin, and smiled.

"It's okay," he cooed, wrapping you in his arms as you trembled like a leaf in the wind. "I'm here now. I'll protect you. I'll always protect you."

Instead of feeling gratitude from you, that same fear permeated the air, making his brow furrow in confusion. Carefully, he began to brush his hand over your hair in what he assumed to be a comforting gesture. This only made you shake harder.

"You-" your voice came out small, barely audible over the fear you felt, "you're that guy from the cafe."

"Mark." His voice was firm, and he felt you tense within his grasp. "My name is Mark."

"Mark." Your lips parted ever so slightly, and finally, you stopped shaking despite terror still lacing your every word. "What do you want from me?"

The way his name sounded falling from your lips nearly sent him to his knees. His head had fallen into the side of your neck, practically using you to support himself as those all too familiar urges washed over him once more. He nearly groaned.

Only, as he took a deep inhale to answer you, he froze. A growl, low and feral tore from his throat. "That bastard's scent is still on you."

You froze, your blood running cold as you felt Mark press himself deeper into you, his face burying itself fully into the side of your neck. If didn't know any better, you'd say he had started almost nuzzling his face against your skin, smearing blood in his wake.

Finally, he acts on his urges.

"Mine." He growls, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you even closer. "All mine.You're mine."

[lieshot]

There, he finally stopped running like the coward Barney always knew he was. The cowardly boy that hid from fists, leaving Barney to take most of the beatings. The coward that had lashed out when Barney had gotten involved in the carnie thieving ring even though it was just for their own SURVIVAL. And worst of all, the coward that had left his own brother to ROT in a bunker for years on end while he was out making a name for himself as a hero. After all, the great Hawkeye couldn't have the public find out about his supposed CRIMINAL brother, right? That would just look bad even though it had all been a downright lie to keep his cover.

What would be worse, Barnery wondered? He'd thought about it many times since his escape. What would be the worst way to absolutely SHATTER the image of hero that Clint held? After everything he had lost while his baby brother was practically GLORIFIED, Barney had wanted to tear it all down himself. What would the public think knowing Hawkeye had abandoned his brother to HYDRA for his own convenience? Not a care in the world and why should he? The public though Barney was involved in multiple crimes at the time, thought he was part of organized crime. A hero couldn't sully that PRISTINE image they so often held.

What would be worse? Hawkeye saving his brother from the start and the public thinking he was related to a criminal? Or for the world to know that he had left his brother in a literal hell hole? Either way, he wanted to BURN the image everyone thought of him.

Watching him now, acting so IGNORANT really invoked Barney's rage. He was seething, pulling an arrow free but now yet stringing it. Instead, he rolled it in his hand before clutching it in a tight fist. The older of the two finally dropped down from his ledge, cleanly landing on the new rooftop and finally on the same platform as his brother. ❝  You think you got any place to judge me for what I'm doin'? ❞ he spat, keeping his own words as enunciated as possible despite the country accent just for Clint to read his lips. ❝  After all the shit that YOU did? Or maybe didn't do is the better description. ❞ 

If it wasn't for Clint, he could have fled that farmhouse they grew up in years before it got bad. He wouldn't have had a stupid baby brother he had to protect. If it wasn't for Clint, he wouldn't have had to join that ring of thieves because he wouldn't have had to find ways to SUPPORT the damn kid. If it wasn't for Clint, there wouldn't have been a mark on his back from HYDRA to begin with. He could have just bled out in that warehouse, a painful death but more PEACEFUL than what was to come in that bunker. No one would have cared enough to drag him away.

If it wasn't for Clint and his cowardice, he wouldn't have been left down there or even there in the FIRST PLACE.

He was pacing now, eyes never leaving Clint. Poised like an animal ready to STRIKE at any moment. One hand guided the arrow to the bow, raising his weapon to aim it at his brother. A brother he used to take all the HITS for, as many as he could. Now he felt like he was seeing clearly for the first time and his brother was nothing more than an obstacle. ❝  Trying to act so fuckin' innocent. But I've always known when you're full of shit. ❞ He wasn't going to fall for it anymore, not like the rest of the world or those little Avengers or whatever he ran with these days. He knew his brother better than that and Clint wouldn't walk away so easily as he let loose another arrow.

➫ CLINT felt his heart in his throat, pounding, thoughts running ten miles an hour and he sure this isn't a dream. Why was Barney attacking him? What had he done? Clint knew damn well what he had done, their split had ultimately been his fault; unable to separate his own feelings from his support and it came out bitter, angry. Oh, the words make him cringe now, and he wishes so badly he could take them back, his big brother had gone off to join the military and he never saw him again. Had he returned just as bitter?

The younger brother steadies himself, dropping down to catch himself on a bar, swinging himself around and landing on another ledge, closer to the ground now. And if he wasn't entirely deaf now, he would have heard the words shouted at his back, but he only hears a muffled buzzing, it's unpleasant sounding though and he almost loses his footing in the attempt to get all the way down. He HAD to run, he didn't know why, but every bone in his body was telling him something was terribly wrong, but not with him, with Barney.

The arrow sends a shock through him that's plain on his face, snapping his head to where the arrow originated now. Clint can read lips well enough, but he doesn't understand what his big brother could possibly mean about fighting him like a hero. Did he consider himself a villain or something? This was completely out of character - not the hand symbol, which he makes a face at, that was pretty on brand for Barney. The aggression, he's only seen it once before in him, and it's enough to get him to STOP.

He rips the thing from the wall, inspecting it briefly, turning the piece in his hand. There's nothing on it to give him a clue, and he knows by standing here, he's making himself a target. But if he's going to shoot arrows at him, then Clint is going to stay still and not make a game, he's going to make it too easy. Besides, he might have deserved it. "So, are you going to talk to me, then? Or just kill me and be done with it? Is that how we're handling our problems now. We've devolved, first it was punching with our fists and now it's COWARDLY assassination attempts." His voice croaks just a little, due to not hearing himself, but it's steadier than he thinks, he's had plenty of practise without the aids.

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Mag 13

Can't believe we've hit lucky number 13, the Halloween episode and our first live statement all in one! Time for some for high-quality, thoughtful commentary :)

THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID

The moment Jon has another person in the room with him his veneer professionalism instantly vanishes. 'We don't have to believe you. Don't like it? Leave.'

He definitely knows there's something up with the tapes by now, which makes sense if we are going by the idea that approximately 1 in 10 statements are real, he should have read over a hundred fake ones by now.

This is his first live statement, so starting tonight he's going to be seeing Naomi in his nightmares ever single time he goes to sleep. I wonder how long it's going to take him to accept that those are real as well.

He's so fucking callous and blunt to this desperate grief-stricken woman. Reminder that this is the first time we ever see Jon talk to another human being.

He tries to leave! See ya, I'm out!! Too fucking awkward!!!

Yeah this is a massive mood because what sane person would want to stick around and watch while a stranger monologues at length about their trauma, but obviously it's super ironic considering how Jon eventually comes to crave the live statements. Love that this is his instinctive reaction.

Unlucky that his first genuine statement-giver is a survivor of the Lonely. How much longer might he have avoided the nightmares of Naomi had a statement about any other Entity? I wonder if anyone else could have had a hand in her being his first?

Yeah, despite my automatonophobia, stuff like this is exactly why I would probably get consumed by the Lonely. Lived alone ever since I moved out of home, no long-term romantic relationships, deeply loathe all mandatory workplace bonding, have to work really hard to maintain friendships because social interaction is so exhausting, perfectly happy with that state of affairs and have no intention to ever change... yeah I'll be breathing fog before it even occurs to me to be afraid of it.

You could argue that this is an indication that this guy knows about the Lonely, but idk this is the kind of crap that people say all the time.

I don't feel like I've ever had a good read on Evan's deal. For a while I figured he was lying about everything to basically seduce Naomi, because he can tell she's already deeply marked by the Lonely. There's a line later in the series about how none of the Lukas' ever have trouble finding creepy, lonely people to hook up and breed with and I figured that's what was happening here. But I guess I've landed on the explanation offered by the episode, that Evan simply didn't vibe with the Lonely and so he left his family, made friends, fell in love and then died.

And he died because the Lonely killed him, right? Or at least, his refusal to serve the Lonely killed him?

It's just way too much of a coincidence that the guy who ran away from his Lonely family died after only a few years, and he died of a broken heart, which he inherited from his family.

There's a really cool idea here which I wish more Lonelyeyes fics would play with.

[starlightxsvt]

3 dates | epilogue

pairing ➳ badboy!Seungcheol x female!reader

genre ➳ badboy au, romance, some fluff, angst, bad attempt at humour, gets spicy at the end.

word count ➳ 3.5k (total 15.6k)

warnings ➳ cursing, mentions of killing, mentions criminal activities, slight violence(non explicit), smoking, ma man Seungcheol ain't your typical badboy, blackmailing, reader does all sorts of risky things cuz she's a SIMP, blood(nothing explicit), kissing, marking, some breast worshipping, grinding, reader is horny lol. (Please lemme know if I forgot anything.)

a/n : here's the epilogue to 3 dates since tumb1r won't let me post the whole fic in one post :) Enjoy!

Part 1

As time progresses and days turn into weeks and then into months you are not left with the luxury to cry over Seungcheol. Instead you are bombarded with assignments and projects from your uni and you drown yourself completely in work to forget the scathing pain. Katelyn figured out something is wrong with you and even though talking about that man pains you too much, you told her that you are done with him and you won't be seeing him again in this lifetime. Katelyn did not ask any questions after that as you said you needed time to heal, time to forget even though you have serious doubts he'd ever leave your mind.

You have also applied for an internship to keep you even busier so that when you return home you are too tired to let the thoughts of him plague your mind as you drift off to sleep. And just like that, you have developed a routine, work, eat and sleep, trying your best to allow yourself to not think about him.

Despite that sometimes, some very few times, you think of him, wonder how he's doing, wonder if he's safe. You ponder if he thinks of you, if he regrets his decision but you don't have any answer. You simply hope he does.

-

After another day full of assignments and projects you almost doze off to sleep as soon as you hit your bed until you are intruded by the loud ringing of your phone. Annoyed, you reach for it, wondering who would be calling so late.

The caller ID has your heart doing a backflip, the name you were unable to delete from your heart and your phone flashing on the screen as you instantly sit up in your bed. It's Seungcheol.

Why is he calling so late?

You wait a few seconds, scared to pick up, scared that he might have called accidentally. But before you lose your chance, you inhale deeply and pick the call up. "Hello?" You speak, your voice tentative.The silence from the other end makes your heart fall and your suspicion come true. He called you accidentally and now he will realize it and hang up. You're about to speak again when his voice floats through.

"Hi."

The emotions you feel are overwhelming, undescribable. You're relieved, you're sad, you're excited, you want to cry and scream at the same time. That one word from him has you feeling tingles all over and makes you feel like you just did a hundred laps. Anyhow you manage to speak. "Hey." Your voice almost cracks and tears almost slip past your cheeks. You don't know why you are so emotional. "I just...I just wanted to hear your voice." He sounds so tired...so dejected and your heart breaks. Never in your life did you imagine him to call and say those words to you but instead of feeling happy, a current of melancholy hits you.

Why does he sound so broken?

"Seungcheol? Is...is everything alright?" Your voice is feather like, soft and careful. You hear him sigh loudly and you get your answer. Instead of replying to you, he asks, "How have you been?"

"I'm...fine," you lie. You have been nowhere near fine. He hums noncommittally and you're about to ask him the same question before you realize how dumb it would be. If his voice is any indication he is anything but fine. "____?" He calls your name softly. "Y-yes?" You whisper.

He stays silent, for so long that you think he hung up. "I- I just...can I see you?" He seems to have a hard time gathering his words.

What? You lurch out of bed pushing your covers aside in excitement, trying to prevent a gasp out of your lips. Did you even hear correctly? He wants to see you?

"Wha... what do you mean?" You mumble. You hear him sigh loudly, "I...I am in front of your apartment. Just come down for a minute." You don't need to hear any more words as you are dashing towards your front door in your pajamas, not disconnecting the call. You take the elevator and come out of the building as fast as possible, bumping into things in your way but not giving a care. You feet stops as you stand in front of the entrance to your building, eyes searching wildly for Seungcheol. "Stay there," his voice comes through the phone, just as you spot him standing on the opposite to your building, decently far but not far enough that you can't see.

A horrified gasp leaves your mouth as your eyes finally land on him.

He stands there, bruised, his beautiful face marred with scratches and wounds, his clothes having patches of dirt and if you are seeing correctly his left arm is bleeding as he holds the phone next to his ear with the other.

"Seungcheol-" you're about to rush towards him. "Don't move." He cuts you off, looking you in the eye. Even from afar you don't miss the dark, commanding gaze of him. "Just...just stay there. Just...let me look at you."

No- why is he doing this?

Tears slip down your cheeks, "Seungcheol-" You are interrupted once more, "Please. I- I missed you and...I needed to see you. Just let me hear your voice and look at you like this." His voice almost cracks and you can see the emotion in his eyes.

Your heart breaks.

Why does he keep doing this? Why does he keep pushing you away? Why does he torment himself like this?

You stand there, rooted to the ground, quiet sobs leaving your mouth. He comes here all bruised and wounded and expects you to stay away? How can you when you can clearly see him in pain?

You grip the phone tighter, watching him as he stands there, not moving an inch. His eyes never leaves you as he drinks you in, like this is the last time he's gonna look at you. You can't stand it anymore. Hanging up the phone you run towards him, as fast as your nimble legs can carry you. You can't stay away, you just can't. Not when he looks so hurt and lost and lonely.

Your body smashes against his as you wrap your arms tightly around his torso, your head buried in his chest. He stumbles back from the force and for a while he stays unmoved and you hold your breath, half expecting him to shove you away. But he doesn't. Instead he pulls you firmly against him resting your head on his chest while burying his face in your hair.

The tears come naturally. Loud, ungraceful sobs emerge from you as you cling to him like your life depends on it, your grip on him unyielding. Seungcheol softly pets your hair as your cries fill the silence of the cold night. You pull back just a little to look at his face and you want to once more. There's a cut above his brow and some bruises on his cheek and nose and another cut on his lower lip. But you can't bring yourself to care as you lean above to press your lips against his. You don't dare hold back, kissing him like the world is about to end. Seungcheol reciprocates, tilting your head for better access as his tongue prods into your mouth and you taste the metallic flavour of blood. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, an outpour of the bottled up feelings of the last couple months.

You both take a lungful of air when you pull back and you're about to dive in for more when you realize his arm is injured. "Wha- how did this happen?" You hiccup, wiping away your tears as you gently reach for his bleeding arm. His clothes are torn at the part of the wound and from what you can see, it looks like a knife injury, a thin, slanted cut on his upper arm as if someone slashed him. "It's nothing," he says trying to push your hand away.

"It's not nothing, Seungcheol!" You're yelling before you know it. It's the exasperation, the accumulated frustration over the days that makes you snap.

Seungcheol seems to be shocked at your outburst as he blinks at you, an astonished look on his face. He's kind enough to reply honestly this time. "Got into a fight. I was outnumbered. It's okay, it's nothing serious, I've had worse," his voice is small, almost timid which is definitely unlike him.

Of course he has had worse.

You let out a tired breath. "Come on, you're bleeding. Let me help you." You wrap a hand around his uninjured arm, tugging him towards your apartment.

"No, you don't have to-" he protests but you pin him down with a look. "Please," you speak, your voice low. "I can't let you go like this. Just let me clean your wound." Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line as if trying to prevent himself from speaking further. When no more words leave his mouth, you drag him into your building in silence.

Entering your unit you help Seungcheol sit down in your small living space as you quickly pad towards the bathroom for the first aid kit. When you return you find him looking around your place with a curious glow in his eyes similar to a child's. As your eyes meet, he sits up straighter and tries to remove his jacket. You aid him in the process, discarding the material on the floor as you take a seat next to him, the first aid kit in your lap.

Thankfully he's wearing a tank top as it gives you easy access to his biceps. You would have stopped to admire and ogle them if he wasn't hurt, which he is and you mentally smack yourself for having such thoughts right now. Seungcheol's eyes does not leave your face as he silently gazes at you and if you didn't know any better you would say he looked at you fondly.

Swallowing, you sanitize your hands before proceeding to clean his wound. Seungcheol tenses beside you, low, pained grunts leaving his lips a few times as you disinfect the cut. But he says nothing, letting you do the work and you don't speak either focused on the task at hand. You then do the same for his face and finish your work by wrapping a bandage around his bicep and sitting back, exhaling a satisfied sigh. Unintentionally your eyes connect to his and you find his scorching gaze on you, those mesmerising eyes almost piercing through your soul. Feeling self aware, you abruptly stand up, coughing to clear your throat. "You should take a shower. I have some extra clothes for my parents when they come over. My dad's clothes should fit you."

"No, it's alright. I should leave." He murmurs. "You're already here. Might as well take a shower. There's no rush," you say sternly, trying to make him agree.

Truth is you want him to stay, at least the night.

Seungcheol sits quietly for a while as if contemplating before surrendering with a sigh. "Okay." "Good. The bathroom's this way," you point towards the attached bath in your room and Seungcheol mutely follows. You offer him a towel and you dad's pajamas, hoping they'd do the job for tonight as he closes the door behind him.

As silence fill the apartment, you quietly return to your bed and sit, anxiously chewing on your lower lip. The digital clock beside your bed reads 2:50 am but your sleep is long gone.

Choi Seungcheol is here. In your house.

Will he spend the night? Or will he be his stubborn self and leave as soon as he is out? And if he does stay, will you see him in morning? Or will he be gone before the sun is up? The thoughts running rampant in your mind gives you a headache as you groan, rubbing your temples. You are sure Seungcheol feels something for you, he has to. Otherwise why would he come to you in the middle of the night? If only he told you his feelings, spilled his heart out to you rather than hiding and pushing you away. He just needs to bare himself to you, tell you what is in his heart. Why can't he do that? Why can't he just give the two of you a chance?

Your thoughts are interrupted as Seungcheol steps out the bathroom, half naked, the pajama pants hanging low on his hips as his muscled body is displayed in all its glory, making your throat dry. He looks at you before quickly looking away as an air awkwardness and tension fills the room. You hold your breath, watching him intently, not moving a single muscle as he tentatively takes a seat at the corner of your bed while wiping his wet hair with the towel hanging around his neck.

You want to tell him to stay the night, the words right on the tip of your tongue but you're terrified that it will just make him walk out here immediately. So instead you watch him with bated breath, waiting for his next move, waiting for him to say something, anything that will put an end to this deafening silence.

Seungcheol takes mercy on you.

"Thank you," he says, voice barely audible. You don't know what he's thanking you for you reply anyway. "Welcome. Though I don't know what you are thanking me for." Seungcheol remains silent for a few beats, his eyes focused on the floor before replying. "For everything. I have a lot to thank you for."

Okay.

You nod mutely, unable to figure out a reply. Another wave of silence settles in the atmosphere like a blanket. You take this time to appreciate his beautiful profile, engraving his features in your mind. The moonlight coming from your window falls on his face partially, illuminating his sculpted lineaments. You get to admire his beauty once more as he sits there but the look on his face tugs at your heartstrings. He looks troubled and in pain, the natural glow of his face somewhat dim. You wonder how the past couple of months have treated him. You wonder how life has been treating him, if he had someone to go to, someone to share his worries with all this time.

"Do you still like me?" His words make your eyes widen as it the last thing you expected to come from him. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't," your words come out harsher than you intended making you regret instantly. Perhaps the pain you have suffered for a while is coming out finally. However, seeing his silence, you reply once more, voice much softer this time, "Of course I still like you, Seungcheol. I have...I have never liked anyone or anything as much as you."

It's an understatement. What you feel for him is love but you would rather keep that to yourself.

"Why?" Seungcheol's voice comes out as a croak as his eyes connect to yours. For the first time, you see so much emotion in them and maybe, maybe even some unshed tears, though you can't be sure because the light is not sufficient right now. Your throat closes up for some reason as your eyes mirror the emotions in his and you desperately try to think, try to give him a reply that he deserves.

"You are very easy to like," you say lamely. Your reply is insufficient but that's all you can manage without starting to bawl like a child. A humourless laugh comes out of Seungcheol and echoes through the otherwise quiet room. "I doubt that," he says, his voice deep. "It's true Seungcheol," you repeat, voice firm.

A mirthless grin settles on his face and you know he isn't buying your words. Swallowing, you carefully, too carefully, scoot towards him and sit down, maintaining a little space between the the two of you. "I don't understand why you hold such negative thoughts about yourself but believe me Seungcheol, it's hard not to fall in love with you."

Your slip-up causes your eyes to widen, face drowning in embarrassment as you realize you just said the L word. Seungcheol, however, does not react to it but turns his head to study your face and the pain and sentiment in his eyes, his passionate gaze on you makes you forget human language. You've never seen nor imagined Seungcheol to be so full of ardor and pain and now that you have, you don't know what to do. You just want to cling to him and cry like a child.

"Can't you see how fucked up I am? What and awful person I am, ____? Someone like me deserves noth-" Unable to hold yourself back you interrupt him by cupping both of his cheeks and pressing your lips to his. You kiss him softly, carefully, trying to gauge his feelings while trying not to push him too hard. Seungcheol stays immobilised, letting you kiss him like that. When you pull back, his eyes are closed and he rests his forehead against yours. "You are just fine, Seungcheol. I like you just the way you are. Don't...beat yourself up like this, hmm?" Your voice is just above a whisper as you tilt his head to meet his eyes. Seungcheol stares quietly at you for a while before suddenly pushing you back and caging you underneath his large body. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping himself around you while attaching his lips to yours.

This time the kiss is not soft, it is full of passion and vigour and longing as Seungcheol takes the reign. Your lips mold perfectly against each other and Seungcheol does not hold back, kissing you like a starved man; all teeth and tongue. He pulls back for a while, supporting himself on his elbows as you looks at you while you try to catch your breath underneath him. His hand comes to stroke your hair gently, like a lover and your eyes burn at his tenderness.

"Seungcheol-"

"Is there still a place for me in your heart?" He asks, a hopeful note in his voice. His words leave you breathless as you gape at him in suprise, you mouth open slightly. Seungcheol looks at you look longingly as he waits for your answer, which comes easily, without a second thought.

"Of course, Seungcheol. I...I love you."

This time it is his turn to be surprised as his pupils dilate and a soft gasp of surprise escapes from him. Swallowing, you hold his gaze, waiting for his next words but they never come. Instead, the man attacks your lips with renewed fervour while slotting a muscular thigh between your legs. As his toned thigh brushes against your core a wanton moan leaves your mouth and you wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel Seungcheol smirk against your skin while he kisses a path down from jaw towards your neck, taking his sweet time to plant some love bites along the way while you gasp and writhe underneath him. Soon he reaches the valley of your breasts and with skilled fingers he does a quick work of the buttons of your night shirt. His heated gaze remains on your now bare breasts and you can feel your nipples harden in the chill air of the room before he leans down to plant soft kisses all over them. While he does so you continue to grind your core against his leg, desperate for some friction which he is denying you. His assault on your neck and breasts don't stop as he remains focused in marking you, blooming kisses of red and purple on your skin.

"I missed you," His voice comes out as throaty whisper while he keeps his lips attached to your heated skin. "Me too," you choke between moans as his ministrations on your body leaves you aching all over for him.

He pulls back to meet your gaze, "I want you. I... always have and I've been hiding it. But I can't anymore."

"Take me then, Seungcheol," It isn't the most romantic thing to say but that is all your lust clouded brain can manage as you keep grinding yourself against him. You feel his hard on poke your belly and unlike your lover, you really can't wait anymore. You need him now.

Seungcheol keeps looking at you, too busy studying your features rather than doing something about the wetness between your legs and you're about to tell him to do something when he speaks, "I love you, ____. I'm sorry for the hurt I've caused you. Let me make it up to you."

Great. Now you're horny and emotional.

His confession brings tears to your eyes but your neediness is growing so you pull his face down closer to yours and whisper, "You can start doing that by making me cum. And then you can stay. With me. Forever. How about that?" A mischievous grin kisses his face, "I'd love that sweetheart."

You grin in happiness not wasting anymore time as you reconnect your lips with his.

a/n 2: Whew~ a whopping 15k+! I can't believe I wrote something this huge. But it was well worth it! I just hate this damn app like I don't understand?? I've seen ppl post fics with 40k+ words yet tumb1r says I've reached 250 blocks like what?? Anyhow, I really really hope you enjoyed reading this baby cuz I've been working on it for soooo long! If you did please reblog and share as always your feedbacks are highly appreciated so please leave them in the comments or my ask box!

[ikaroux]

Xiao: Who are you ? (part 1) (v.EN)

f!reader

I want a sweet Xiao <3 and then when you have Matsuoka Yoshitsugu as a seiyuu, how can you not love him?! (even if it will surely be complicated for him to understand the emotions that go through him!).

Zhongli being written.

Masterlist

Part 2

Who are you?

The last Yaksha guardian was collapsed on the ground, wounded, exhausted. His last battle with the darkness had lasted most of the night, further weighing down the karma of the young man with dark hair dotted with emerald strands. The voices of those he had killed fogged his mind, causing excruciating pain to his soul and body. Lying on his stomach unable to open his eyes, his hand struggled to find his winged jade spear that had fallen to the ground with him. A groan of pain scraped his throat at the movement.

The young man flinched briefly as he heard footsteps approaching him quickly, feeling hands grasp his shoulders to carefully turn him around.

He tried again to open his eyes, his vision was blurred and foggy. He could not distinguish the features of the human who had seized him, feeling only his hand gently caressing his hair in an attempt to soothe him. The voice he heard calling him with concern sounded like a woman's, soft and warm.

A soothing light enveloped the young woman, the boy did not understand what was happening because in the second that followed, his body lightened, his pain evaporated, was he dreaming?

Although his vision was still blurred, he nevertheless managed to distinguish a little better the contours of the young woman with long hair (color).

"Who are you? "

His voice was marked by fatigue. He managed to distinguish a thin smile on the face of his rescuer. He repeated more weakly:

"Who are you...? "

His eyes sank, the ethereal form of the young woman reminding him of distant memories, a sudden warmth burst in his heart. Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes.

"Gui...zhong? "

The landscape around him darkened, leading him straight into a soft torpor.

Xiao woke up with a start. Where was he? The Wangshu Inn? Yes, he recognized his quarters, but how did he get there? He still remembered his fight against the horde of monsters he had defeated. He raised his right hand to his face, examining it more closely.

He had no more wounds, no more pain, which brought him back to the young woman he thought he had seen. Had he hallucinated? Had she really healed him? Everything seemed to be a blur. He got up from the bed without difficulty, heading directly to the balcony which was on the top floor of the inn. He looked around, hoping to find the woman who had helped him. The sun was beginning to set, so he had spent the day resting here. It was unusual for him, not being human he didn't have the same needs as them, sleeping, eating, living with others, all that seemed ridiculous. He was almost angry at himself for staying unconscious for so long, hitting one of the wooden columns on the balcony.

Xiao turned around, heading towards the stairs, quickly walking down the steps to Wangshu's innkeeper, Verr Goldet.

"Verr. "

The young woman turned her attention to Xiao.

"Good evening lord Xiao, have you recovered from your last fight? "

"Did you see who brought me here?"

Verr didn't take offense to his curt tone, simply shaking her head to indicate that she hadn't.

Xiao clicked his tongue, annoyed. He needed to know who this mysterious woman was who had taken care of him. The memory of the warmth that emanated from her gripped his heart again, drawing his steps back towards the exit of the inn.

He suddenly bumped into a young man with blond hair, accompanied by his annoying little creature.

"Xiao?"

Aether looked at Xiao with big round eyes, he was not used to seeing him with such an expression. He was confused, frustrated and angry, these were all emotions that were running through the yaksha since he woke up.

"Xiao is not in a good mood"- Paimon twirled around him- "You should come eat something with us, nothing beats a good meal for..."

"I don't need that! "

Paimon gasped, hiding behind Aether. Xiao tried to calm himself by inhaling a deep breath of air, passing by the traveler without saying a word.

"Wait Xiao! Where are you going? "

Aether stopped him, grabbing his arm loosely so as not to rush him further. Xiao immediately gave a sharp blow on his arm to disengage himself, he regretted his abrupt words, he hated it. Before he met Aether, he never had to worry about others or how to behave with them, he was alone and he was fine with that. It was all too... human for him. Slowly he turned his gaze to the traveler.

"Aether I... am sorry. "

"Xia...! "

Without saying another word, Xiao disappeared in a draft.

When you landed in Liyue from your native land, Sumeru, a few months ago, a terrifying battle took place at the city's port. An ancient God who had once been sealed by the rock lord had broken free from his prison, attempting to destroy the port of Liyue in the process, but fortunately he was quickly stopped.

Since these events, you had started to travel in the lands of the geo archon, studying the local fauna and flora. Flowers had always fascinated you, their shapes, their smells, their meanings or their benefits, you studied absolutely everything, noting and drawing in a notebook everything you saw.

In Sumeru, you joined the prestigious magic academy to perfect your Guizhong, that was the last thing he said to you. Who was he? It seemed to you that you had already read this name in one of the books you had borrowed from the academy. You couldn't ask him, tiredness taking him away from you. You knew that not far away there was an inn, it was going to be difficult but you had to take him there so that he could rest. When you picked him up, wrapping your arm around his shoulders for support, his spear on the ground disappeared by itself. You had adjusted your grip before you began your walk.

After several minutes of recalling these events, you noticed that you had finally arrived at the high cliffs of Huaguang. Taking your courage in both hands, you prepared yourself mentally to climb the cliff. Up there was a flower that you wanted to study, the Qingxin flower. They grew exclusively on the highest stone peaks, avoiding heat and humidity, a lonely and hard to reach flower.

"It's okay! "

You rolled up your sleeves, putting your feet and hands where they could grip, slowly you began your ascent.

Night had fallen on the Liyue plains, and it was at the top of Qingyun Peak that the Yaksha had taken refuge, watching the stars brighter than ever. Sitting on the edge of the cliff, the memory of the young woman haunted him. The pain in his chest made him clench his fists, he had never felt like this, he didn't even know what name to put on these feelings.

Xiao was a thousand year old follower, human feelings didn't concern him, so why? Why such pain at the mere thought of a... stranger? But was she really a stranger? This woman had reminded him of an old friend, Guizhong, who died during the Archon war. Could she have come back in an ethereal form? Or maybe it was a new trick the demons had found to torture him a little more.

In the distance, Xiao saw a faint jade-colored light coming from the Huaguang stone forest. He widened his eyes, remembering that glow that had saved his life. His heart began to beat furiously in his chest.

"This is... impossible... I found you. "

His voice trembled at the sight of the sweet emanation. It warmed him, soothed him, the voices that constantly hammered him fell silent and his usually aching body was now light. At last he understood his obsession with you, when you had treated him earlier this morning, a bond had been established between you, a bond as strong as the one that bound him to Morax for whom he had the greatest respect and devotion.

Xiao stood up, looking in the direction you were facing. He disappeared into the wind.art and deepen your knowledge. More than once your teachers told you that your manipulation of your dendro vision was exceptional, some city-states were already looking to recruit you as a researcher or healer, but you always refused, preferring to remain free of your movements. Once you had finished your studies, you quickly decided to leave your homeland, wanting to learn more from your neighbors. Your steps finally led you to Liyue.

You had left early that morning, heading towards the Huaguang stone forest from the Dihua swamp. On the way, you passed a badly wounded young man with emerald tattoos on him. His face, despite the wounds, was beautiful and when he opened his eyes, the amber color immediately fascinated you.

You couldn't leave him like that, wounded and bruised, using your Dendro vision to heal him. When you used it, it projected a jade aura on you and a flowery area grew around you, releasing energy that allowed you to heal even the deepest wounds.

He had tried several times to ask you to identify yourself, which you did, but his apparent fatigue had closed off his senses.

Guizhong, that was the last thing he said to you. Who was he? It seemed to you that you had already read this name in one of the books you had borrowed from the academy. You couldn't ask him, tiredness taking him away from you. You knew that not far away there was an inn, it was going to be difficult but you had to take him there so that he could rest. When you picked him up, wrapping your arm around his shoulders for support, his spear on the ground disappeared by itself. You had adjusted your grip before you began your walk.

After several minutes of recalling these events, you noticed that you had finally arrived at the high cliffs of Huaguang. Taking your courage in both hands, you prepared yourself mentally to climb the cliff. Up there was a flower that you wanted to study, the Qingxin flower. They grew exclusively on the highest stone peaks, avoiding heat and humidity, a lonely and hard to reach flower.

"It's okay! "

You rolled up your sleeves, putting your feet and hands where they could grip, slowly you began your ascent.

Night had fallen on the Liyue plains, and it was at the top of Qingyun Peak that the Yaksha had taken refuge, watching the stars brighter than ever. Sitting on the edge of the cliff, the memory of the young woman haunted him. The pain in his chest made him clench his fists, he had never felt like this, he didn't even know what name to put on these feelings.

Xiao was a thousand year old follower, human feelings didn't concern him, so why? Why such pain at the mere thought of a... stranger? But was she really a stranger? This woman had reminded him of an old friend, Guizhong, who died during the Archon war. Could she have come back in an ethereal form? Or maybe it was a new trick the demons had found to torture him a little more.

In the distance, Xiao saw a faint jade-colored light coming from the Huaguang stone forest. He widened his eyes, remembering that glow that had saved his life. His heart began to beat furiously in his chest.

"This is... impossible... I found you. "

His voice trembled at the sight of the sweet emanation. It warmed him, soothed him, the voices that constantly hammered him fell silent and his usually aching body was now light. At last he understood his obsession with you, when you had treated him earlier this morning, a bond had been established between you, a bond as strong as the one that bound him to Morax for whom he had the greatest respect and devotion.

Xiao stood up, looking in the direction you were facing. He disappeared into the wind.

You had finally reached the top of the cliff, immediately spotting two-three Qingxin flowers. You immediately knelt down beside one of them, taking out your notebook and pencil. You began to draw this beautiful flower from every angle, noting here and there the characteristics you could observe. Satisfied with everything you could see, you finally turned to the landscape plunged in the darkness of the night. Liyue's sky was dotted with stars that shone brightly. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the cliff top, your gaze turned back to the flowers of Qingxin, suddenly reminding you of the young man you had rescued. When you looked into his eyes, his eyes seemed so sad, so lonely. The pain that seemed to be emanating from him had struck you at the highest point.

You turned your attention back to the stars. Your mind was obsessed with this boy and it was with him in mind that you began to sing an ancient poem by Sumeru. The words, although sung in your native language, were undoubtedly sad and melancholic. Your hands were placed in front of you, palms up, eyes closed, activating your dendro vision. A jade-green circle encircled the entire surface of the cliff, particles of light streaming from the ground. Gradually, luminescent blue flowers began to grow around you, following the rhythm of your song.

It was a violent draught that cut you off, opening your eyes in surprise. You gasped as you saw the young man with the amber eyes standing before you.

He was out of breath, stiff as a board, his eyes never leaving yours. Something in him seemed different from this morning, in his eyes you could see... peace?

He cautiously approached you, kneeling down in front of you to get to your level. He took one of your hands in his, squeezing it gently. The particles you had created swirled around you, lighting up the scene. Your heart was pounding now that he was in front of you, you found him even more attractive under the moonlight. His eyes shone with an incredible brilliance, his tattoos also glowed with a soft emerald glow.

Your voice, your appearance, everything seemed sweet to him, no wonder he confused you with Guizhong, you looked like him in some ways.

His lips trembled slightly as he continued to examine your face, a question seemed to cross his lips.

His free hand went up to your face, tucking one of your locks behind your ear.

"Who are you? "His tone was more brutal than he had intended it to be.

Your eyes widened at the question. Of course you couldn't introduce yourself or learn who he was, his name, what he did. You wanted to know everything about this man who had marked your heart.

Seeing that you didn't answer, he asked again in a soft whisper, making you blush.

"Who are you? "

"(y/n)..."

And for the first time since you met, a smile stretched his lips, a silence accompanying your answer. His smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, his hand dropped yours.

"Xiao. "

You looked at him intensely, your face completely red as he straightened his legs.

"As long as you're in Liyue, I'll protect you. Call me and I'll be there in a second."

You slowly nodded, fascinated by this man who was decidedly not human. He watched you for a few more seconds, his eyes entranced by your presence before disappearing as he had appeared...

"Xiao..."

[aureatescars]

His brows furrow as he watches with suspicion as Leon leaves and come back again with a chair, all the while fighting the ever present embarrassment and shame that make his entire body line with tension more and more.

It only gets worse when Leon chooses to take off his shirt. He takes in Leon's bare torso, unable to keep his gaze from flickering over all the different lines and healed mementos of wounds long overcome. Sasha is no stranger to scars, his own body is lined quite a few from the civil war, but none are quite as prominent as those he can see on Leon now. Well, none except the one in the middle of his own chest and the matching one on his back where the bullet cut through him.

He can see something similar on Leon's shoulder, the scar so similar in nature to Sasha's own that it can't be from anything other than a bullet. But while prominent it is not this mark that captivates Sasha's attention.

There is a twinge of something in the back of his mind as his eyes find the center of Leon's chest. The burn he sees there is unlike anything he has ever seen before and it's almost as if an echo rings in his mind as his eyes remain glued to the area, taking in the discoloration, the shape and every other odd detail about it as if it would reveal its origin to him if he only looked at it long enough. Except... it's not, it's more like he knows somewhere deep within him what it is already.

His eyes focus on Leon's hand when he holds it out to him, and when he looks up to find his eyes again Sasha is rather abruptly reminded of where they are and what they're doing. "Right..." He says and beaces himself for the unpleasant feeling of helplessness and uselessness. The fact that he is naked makes him feel even more vulnerable, and he doesn't like it one bit. It doesn't seem to bother Leon much as he pulls Sasha's arm around his shoulders and then winds his own around his middle.

Sasha grimaces when a stab of pain foes through him, and grits his teeth against the sound of frustration that threatens to escape him when he can't get his legs to obey him at all. They are clumsy and weak, they even look weak. The past weeks of physical therapy did painfully little to prevent his muscles from getting weaker and weaker. He is no longer fighting his injury as much as he is fighting time itself. The longer he takes to adjust to this constant pain, the longer he'd go without proper exercise and this would only get worse.

He feels Leon's hand grasp him a little tighter as he pulls him up and Sasha tries to step over the edge of the tub, he really does, but he just can't find the strength to do it. More of his weight shifts onto Leon and Sasha flails awkwardly when his legs threaten to give out beneath him. His other hand lands on Leon's chest as he is the closest thing to hold on to. He avoids looking down at his shame this time, but also doesn't look up or find Leon's eyes at all, simply stares forward blankly, catching sight of himself in the mirror. His wound just healed, the skin still red around it, his body weak from weeks of lying in a hospital bed. He looks thin, almost sick and it reminds him of his early teens when he hit his first major growth spurt. He looks awkward, feels awkward, unfit for his body. "This is humiliating..." He grouches and hangs his head, brows furrowing.

But Leon doesn't waver. Despite their difference in height Leon's hold on him is surprisingly strong. This too brings back memories, but this time Sasha knows exactly where this feeling of familiarity comes from. A warm solid weight against him, reassuring and safe, pulling him along, guiding him, refusing to let go until he is out of danger...

"I still can't believe you didn't just leave me there." Sasha mumbles. Can't quite believe you're still here either. He breathes out harshly, close to a laugh without any true humor to it.

He has but a moment to realize how warm Leon is before he helps Sasha lower himself down onto the chair next to the tub. Sasha lets go of him then, more reluctant than he strictly should be, shivering when the air around him makes his skin break out into goosebumps. Leon is still warm where he touches him and far too gentle when he puts the bathrobe around his shoulders considering that Sasha has done nothing but growl at him in the last hour or so.

Sasha worries his lower lip between his teeth, a different kind of shame overcoming him as Leon remains nothing but kind despite the bite in Sasha's voice.

"Thank you." He says eventually, although it takes far too much effort to overcome his pride and say it. He tries to make it sound genuine, less barbed and angry, but he fears he is failing miserably. He sighs again. He is tired. So. Tired.

There is a moment of tense silence when Leon refuses to leave. His lips press together and he feels irritation grow within him, becoming harder and harder to ignore, but when Sasha realizes that it's no use to try and wait him out — since he suspects Leon is deliberately taking his time — he simply sighs and begins to do what he meant to do, pointedly ignoring the flush of shame that rises on his cheeks when it takes him way too long to get himself undressed.

But he remains stubborn, remains silent even when Leon gives him a smile. He knows he is being unreasonable and it only fuels his frustration to know that he is the one making it difficult, that Leon is trying to accommodate him, to take care of him.

He didn't sign up for this. Sasha thinks, wonders not for the first time how Leon thought it would be a good idea to ask him to join him on this trip. Is this really what he wanted? Was it pity that made him ask? Because it surely wasn't Sasha's agreeable personality, they've been butting heads ever since first laying eyes on eachother after all. The past few weeks haven't changed much, they've been arguing in the hospital, too, bith saying things they shouldn't have. Things that made Leon leave and Sasha brood...

Leon leaves, the door shutting behind him and Sasha is left on his own. He shifts deeper into the tub, cursing quietly when he has to use his hands to rearrange his legs, but eventually he lets out a relieved sigh when the warm water soothes the ache in his back and shoulders. He rubs his hands over his face and through his hair, staring up at the ceiling before closing his eyes and just breathing for a while.

He can hear Leon putter about in the kitchen. He hears the soft sounds of clinking glasses, cuttlery and porcelain, hears water running as Leon does the washing up.

He always came back.

The thought hits him rather suddenly, and is quickly followed by a heavy conscience.

No matter how often Sasha tried to bite him away like a cornered animal because he was in pain both physically and mentally, Leon still came back the next day. He didn't have to, and Sasha, guiltily, was always relieved when he came back.

His smile then had that cold edge to it, expression shifted into that cocky mask that ticked Sasha off the second he laid eyes on him for the first time. By now Sasha has seen it slipping sometimes, his eyes bespeaking the horrors he has seen more often than Leon likely wants. He remembers the haunted look in his eyes from back at that gas station, the same haunted look Sasha recognizes from his own eyes at times.

Maybe he is lonely, looking for someone that understands and thinking that Sasha might, after everything... But he has seen the rare honest smiles, the softness and care Leon has shown him, too. So it can't just be that, right?

...Maybe just he needs something he can try and fix.

Sasha makes a small frustrated noise and lets himself sink just a little further into the tub. He closes his eyes and holds his breath.

Whatever it is, he has no doubts that Leon will tire of it soon, tire of him, eventually, once he is done playing nurse, once he realizes that Sasha is not getting better. That this is as good as it's ever going to be. Leon has a life somewhere in the states, far away from the Eastern Slav, far away from him.

It should make him feel this hollow to think about it.

He shoves himself upright just after that train of thought ends and gets to the process of washing himself just to give his mind something else to focus on than the conflicting feelings about the man he knows next to nothing about. The man who shot him. The man who put him into this situation in the first place.

... The man who saved his life.

Sasha can feel a headache coming on when he rinses the water from his hair. His head feels too full of thoughts, his chest too tight from frustration and guilt. He realizes he has nothing else to do when he runs a hand through his wet hair and no residie of soap lingers between his fingers.

He tries to grasp the edge of the tub and pull himself up, but finds himself lacking the strength to do anything other than shift himself back. His legs don't respond to his efforts. The pain has ebbed away to a point where it's barely a muted throb at the base of his spine, but his legs are heavy and useless.

Call for me when you're done.

He has no other choice. Did he really think this could have gone any other way? He looks up, looks around. There is nowhere else to hold on to. There are bathrobes hanging on hooks drilled into the opposite wall, the towels, too, are resting just out of reach. He should have thought about this previously.

Sasha bites the inside of his cheek, lets out a long suffering sigh after taking a deep breath and then clears his throat to raise his voice, feeling humiliated and foolish.

"Leon? I think I need some help..."

[littlegodzilla]

Hey! It's my first time on your blog and I saw your Oneshot about Marco Vendetti (geez I love that guy). Can I also ask you a request to write a one-shot about him as well, Where The reader saw her loving Uncle get beaten by Marco and his gang she immediately blocked his way and stop him from beating her Uncle due to his sickness and his old age but before they leave Marco threatened her uncle to kill him if he still didn't pay his debt (but originally the debt was from her father due to his gambling addiction. But after he died despite her uncle being a good older brother to him, he told Marco to pass the debt on him). After that incident, she secretly went to the viper's den and bravely confronted Marco, she asked him to stop and leave her Uncle alone but he responds he'll stop tormenting him if she is gonna trade her virginity to him and marry him as well to pay her uncle's debt (which he suggested to her uncle earlier but he got mad and told him he will never do that to his beloved niece, not over his dead body leading Marco and his gang beating him). Despite she was afraid that he's gonna torment her uncle again, She finally agrees and Marco told her to meet him in the hotel and gave her a beautiful red tube dress, and that night before she sneaks into their house she asks forgiveness from her uncle for doing this the reader left and meet him in the hotel.

Hi anon! Here I am!

I love bad guys I never tired to say it and I love Marco so I hope you'll enjoy this one shot!

As always sorry for my english!

Red Dress.

Marco Vendetti x Reader.

Anon Request. Characters: Marco Vendetti, Uncle Stephan, Dad Nikolas, and the reader. Warnings: Mob. Violence. Mentions of death. Abuses. Smut. Lost virginity. Words: 5000 (Sorry I think I made it so long) Summary: Your uncle can’t pay the debt he owes Marco, so his men give him a violent beating. To get Marco to stop abusing your uncle, he offers you a deal you know you can't refuse even though you hate him. Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @purple-serenity

It was a nice summer day. The classes were over, people were enjoying long walks in the sunshine, children were playing in the street, you had more time to be with your friends, help your uncle in his store and enjoy the summer.

That same afternoon you would come back from the pool from having a good time with your friends, from feasting your eyes on the boys showing off in their bathing suits and goofing around in the water. It was fun and you were at an age when it was all about hormones and desire. However the smile was wiped off your face when you heard a roar coming from your uncle's shop. Your soul fell to your feet as you saw two huge guys pull the old man out of the grocery store, throwing him to the sidewalk, landing several blows to his face and stomach.

"Stop it!" you shouted running towards them. "Leave him alone!" You demanded in a shouting voice, but the men had more strength than you, knocking you to the ground.

A groan of pain escaped from between your lips, but you didn't just stand there. Rising up like a spring you grabbed your bag tightly and hit one of them in the head. The men stopped to look at you, the two were about to hit you but you throw your bag back at them.

"Get the hell out of here!" you yelled.

"Stay out of here!" Said your uncle Stephan roughly. "They're Vipers! They're Marco's men!"

"Like they're the Lord's men! Get out of here!"

Your shouting started to get the attention of the police, it wasn't like they cared much, really, but their boss had just gotten out of jail and they didn't want to get in trouble with authority. Not for now.

You helped your uncle when the two bouncers left leaving you alone. You sat him carefully on one of the chairs in the store to make sure he was okay, you healed the marks on his face, but you had to take him to the hospital, you were sure he had a broken rib, or at least a fractured one. You were waiting in the hospital ward for your uncle to be treated and you kept fidgeting nervously.

"May I ask what happened?"

"It's nothing, you mustn't worry." Your uncle tried to calm you down.

"What don't I have to worry about, you almost got killed!"

"Really it's nothing, I've been a little late these days, but Marco will understand."

You shuddered when you heard the name Marco Vendetti, the leader of The Vipers. You hadn't heard from him in years, since he went to jail for killing a kid by overdose, he was supposed to be locked up for five years, but he had gotten out a little early for good behavior. You wanted to laugh when your uncle Stephan told you that.

Marco Vendetti didn't know what good behavior was.

The result of the violent beating turned out to be several bruised ribs, some even fractured, forcing your uncle to stay in bed on bed rest for several weeks. The man was devastated, if the store lost performance Marco would not collect his debt and when he returned things would get much worse than they already were. You were not willing to let anything happen to your uncle. Since your father died, he was the only family member you had left, he had always taken care of you, he had protected you and thanks to him you had been able to go to college. You owed him a lot.

So, although reluctantly, Stephan let you take over the store while he recovered. He was to be laid up for two weeks and you were to use that time to take care of him for once.

That afternoon you were finishing counting the till, it had been a really good day and week, there was still a long way to go to cover the payments your uncle had pending, but maybe you could negotiate with Marco, that he would let you stop in several times. Speaking of the King of Rome, the bell over the door of the shop rang and in front of you again stood the pair of bouncers who had beaten your uncle, but this time they were not alone.

With them entered a man with jet hair, ice blue eyes, a scar marking his jaw and a tattoo on his neck. His black shirt was tight around his shoulders and his pants made his legs endless. His lips caught the cigarette he held in his hand and the smoke slowly drifted out between his lips. Your hair stood up in goose bumps and you clenched your fists trying to calm down.

Marco Vendetti.

"Who are you?" his voice sounded surprised, slurring the words with a growl.

"She's Nikolas' daughter, Stephan's niece." One of the bouncers explained. His eyes swept over you from head to toe.

"Wow..." He walked slowly towards your position, a sadistic smile forming on his mouth. "How much you've grown, pretty girl, you're the one who beat up my boys?"

"I was only defending my uncle, your thugs attacked an older, sick and weak man." You barked in anger and he laughed.

"Honey, your uncle has fallen behind on his debt payments."

There wasn't enough money, there wasn't enough time for you to get everything Marco Vendetti had asked for earlier in the week. You weren't going to get everything he had asked for and he would come back, hurt your uncle, or worse, they might end up killing him and take over the store the man had so lovingly set up so many years ago.

You had to do something.

It was risky, you knew it was getting into trouble, going straight to the snake pit was never a good idea, but it was the only thing you could do. You would talk to Marco personally, you would ask him for more time, even if they were more payments, but you needed more time. Making sure your uncle was sleeping peacefully you slipped out of the house through the back window, down the fire escape avoiding anyone who could see you, you left it extended so you could climb back up. Even though it was summer, the streets were quite empty, which made fear invade your body for a few seconds, you couldn't go back now, you had to help your uncle.

"Marco, look what I found at the door." Said Jimmy shoving you violently inside the premises where The Vipers had their settlement.

"Get your hands off me!" You roared as another of Marco's men grabbed your arm.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Marco slowly approached towards your position, as usual, a cigarette decorated his fingers, his cruel smile painted on his lips. "Do you know you just walked into a viper's nest all by yourself, gorgeous?" You heard Vendetti's men laugh at his stupid joke, but you rolled your eyes in disgust.

"I need to talk to you." You wanted to get straight to the point, the less you were there the better, you didn't even want to think what they might try to do to you.

"Oh yeah, you need privacy?" he joked, but you watched as he adjusted his package over his pants and grimaced.

"It's about my uncle's debt... I need more time." You tried to talk some sense into him, he grimaced in boredom and inhaled sharply from his cigarette.

"I gave you a week, honey." He stood barely inches away from you, blowing the smoke over your face, your eyes filled with irritated tears and you coughed violently. "That's long enough."

"No, it's not, it's too much money. If you could delay payment I'd..."

"You what, what would you be willing to offer me, what do you think you might have that might interest me?" You watched as he licked his lower lip before filling his mouth with smoke again.

"Anything, raise the debt, ask me for another payment, I don't care, I'll have it, I just need time." You assured him, but he shook his head unconvinced.

"That wouldn't be fun for me, I don't really gain anything." He shrugged. "I'm not interested in your deal."

"Ask me for anything!" You grabbed him by the wrist when he tried to pull away. He let go of you and grabbed the back of your neck pulling at your hair, you gasped at the sensation of pain that shot through your scalp.

"Whatever?" he bit his lip and ran his gaze up and down your body again. "Would you be able to sell yourself to pay off your uncle's debts?"

"A-Ask me for something else..." you averted your gaze feeling your cheeks redden and his smile grew much wider.

"Oh, now I get it... No one has ever touched you, is that it?" a growl came from his throat, his nose brushed your neck. "That's my deal, you want more time? Then give me your body and I'll give you as much time as you want."

"You're sick." You let go of him with a violent shove. "I'll get the money, you can keep your dick in your pants again."

You got the hell out of there at full speed, Marco didn't have his men come after you, he let you go, but the fear was still in your body, you felt yourself trembling, the grip of the leader of The Vipers still on your hair, the feel of his nose on your neck still had your goose bumps. You went up to your room again and curled up in bed, thousands of thoughts running through your mind, feeling defeated and devastated because you didn't know how you could help your uncle. You knew that if you didn't pay Marco would show no mercy the next time you met again.

Payday was getting closer and closer, you had barely managed to get some money together, people were spending the days out of town to enjoy the warmth and sunshine, they were being bad days in the neighborhood and in the store and you felt you were starting to despair. Your uncle had gone back to the store, he couldn't stand or wait on his feet for long so you took turns, leaving you time for yourself, but your mind was always thinking about Marco and his thugs.

You came back that day from doing some shopping, your uncle was still working so you would take care of making some food for both of you so the man could rest afterwards. You entered the house greeting the old man as you walked into the kitchen leaving the basket of groceries on the living room table. Stephan peeked through the door smiling at you in a mysterious way, confusing you.

"What's wrong?"

"A package has arrived for you, it's quite large, no return address." She informed you and confusion turned to surprise. "Do you have a secret admirer, should I go into overprotective parent mode?" he joked and you laughed with him shaking your head.

"Don't worry, I highly doubt it's that, man, I don't have time for boys." You joked, but you saw his gaze darken, saddened. You sighed and gave him a hug. "Where did you leave it?"

"It's in your room."

"Thank you."

On the bed your uncle had left a rectangular box, off-white with a gold lid, on it was exquisite calligraphy with the name of the store. Your body vibrated as you discovered that it was a rather expensive and exclusive clothing house in town. A twinge in your stomach made you tense up. With trembling hands you opened the box to discover inside a beautiful red dress that glistened in the light coming through the window. A gasp escaped from between your lips when you touched the soft, fine fabric as you took it out of the box to get a better look, it was tied around your neck, leaving a suggestive and pronounced neckline in sight, besides it seemed to fit your body when you wanted to wear it. The doubts were still in your mind about who could have given you that gift when you saw a small card inside the box. You carefully folded the dress over your arm to take the card. Your eyes widened and your mouth went dry when you saw who it was.

"Put it on and come see me at this hotel. It's time to take your responsibilities. M.V."

You frowned as you read the note, you needed to do it a couple of times to try to understand what he was referring to. Responsibilities? What was he supposed to be talking about? You were already taking your responsibilities, you were trying to help your uncle, save him from that debt they had outstanding with the Viper, however from that note it seemed that Marco knew something else that you were unaware of.

You tried to talk to your uncle, to know what he was talking about, but the man dodged your questions at all times, diverted the conversation to other topics, pretended to be tired or unwell to leave you with the word and hide in his room like a little child.

You were starting to get angry with your uncle, you needed to know what Marco Vendetti was talking about, but if you were going to ask him himself for explanations you knew it was getting into the lion's den.

However, you had no other choice.

The day Marco had summoned you to the hotel, you were ironing your dress over your body, feeling ridiculously naked. Despite being dressed in the red dress Marco had given you, you felt that the thin fabric did not cover your body. You looked at yourself several times in the mirror and sighed a long sigh. In your head you had a plan, you would go there, ask him for explanations, give him back the dress and get the hell out of there, just like that. You made sure your uncle was asleep when you walked into his room leaving him a little note on his nightstand.

"Sorry, I'll fix this. I love you."

Prayed the note you left him before you carefully left the house putting on your heels as you reached the street so your footsteps wouldn't echo in the front yard and might put your uncle on alert. You hailed a cab as he passed you on the street and asked him to take you to the address of the hotel.

An exclamation of surprise caught in your throat as you discovered the huge building before you. You paid the cab driver when you regained your ability to speak and awkwardly walked to the entrance, the bellhop at the door opened politely, you smiled hurriedly and walked to the front desk where a woman watched you curiously. Your whole body was shaking like a fan and you needed a second to find your words.

"Good evening... I had an appointment with Mr. Marco Vendetti..."

"One moment, please." The receptionist looked up the man's details and nodded. "Mr. Vendetti has not yet arrived, but he gave us directions to wait for him in the room he has reserved." She informed you and your heart thumped hard inside your chest. Of course, a room. "Here are your keys, you can use the elevator to the third floor, the room is down the hall." He indicated leaving you the keys on the counter.

"Thank you very much." You whispered taking the keys with trembling fingers following the directions the woman had given you, feeling her eyes boring into the back of your neck, feeling like a prostitute.

You closed your eyes, your heart hammering inside your chest as you heard the door to the room open, then close with a soft click. You didn't dare turn around to face him, you weren't prepared for the conversation you might have pending, now you felt the need to run out of there. Even though you knew it was too late.

"I see I got the dress right." You heard his voice and footsteps behind you. "You look beautiful." He was sincere, but that didn't make you feel any better.

"We need to talk..." You tried to get back to the point as you turned around, fiddling with the hotel card between your fingers nervously.

You were surprised when your eyes locked on him. The man had dressed up for the occasion, or so it seemed, he wore his hair messy, a white suit jacket, black shirt with the first few buttons open and white peg pants as well. As much as it hurt you had to admit that the man was handsome as Hell. You took a long sigh trying to refocus on why you were there. Marco took off his jacket leaving it on a chair in the room walking slowly towards you, calculating his every move, never taking his blue gaze off you. When he was close enough you reacted by handing him the note he had left in the dress box.

"What's the meaning of this?" you spoke watching as his gaze fell to your hands and his smile tugged at his lips.

"I see your uncle is still not telling you anything."

"What should he tell me, what do you know that I don't?" you tried to inquire, but he shook his head.

"No, it seems to me that it's not going to be that easy. You want information? Well, tell me, what's in it for me?" he challenged you, you stammered several times and looked at yourself, you knew perfectly well what he wanted from you.

"I've come all this way, haven't I? I put on the dress..." You mumbled looking for what you really wanted to say. You jumped in your own skin when his fingers caressed your bare arm.

"Are you going to let me take it off? What made you change your mind? Are you that desperate to save your uncle?" you knew he didn't care, he really didn't care what you answered, he was just playing with you.

"It's the only thing I have, if this way I can get him to settle his debt to you..." You lowered your head feeling defeated. His smile widened, his proximity disappeared in a couple more steps, his two hands gripped your shoulders and he held your chin to force you to look at him.

"I'm going to take your body, you're going to be mine, I'm going to fuck you over and over again on that bed." His thumb caressed your lips, your eyes filled with tears. "You're going to beg, you're going to moan, I'm going to make it so tomorrow you can't walk again." A tear ran down your cheek, but the leader of The Vipers didn't care.

His hands closed over your cheeks kissing you intensely. You held him by the wrists panting as his tongue burst into your mouth carelessly, tangling with yours, making you retreat a few steps until your back hit the wall of the room. He released your cheeks unbuttoning the collar of your dress to pull it down to your waist, even though it's not cold, you feel your skin react to the change in temperature. Your nipples harden as they are exposed, his hands close around your tits, squeezing them, massaging them between his fingers. You moan low without being able to control yourself as he leaves your mouth, his lips running down your neck where he kissed and bit your skin, his fingers still playing with your nipples, tugging them lightly until they were completely hard and erect.

Marco wanted your body and he was going to get it.

He left you completely naked before him pulling your dress down to your feet. His eyes roamed all over you, his hands touched, caressed every curve of your body enjoying the soft touch of your skin against his palms. You gasped, looking sideways at him, cheeks flushed, breath hitching, fists clenched not knowing what to do with your hands. An exclamation of surprise died on your lips as his fingers brushed your little button between your legs, you closed your eyes covering your face with both hands, feeling shame wash over you.

"I can't believe no one has ever touched you here before..." Marco's voice was rough, deep. The tip of his middle finger moving in small circles over your clit sending all over your body cramps of pleasure, sensations swirling in your belly for the first time, confusing you. "Look at you... So pure, so lost... You haven't even touched yourself, have you?" his voice sounded with an amused tone mixed with pure lust.

You were unable to look up, your body cowering against him, feeling his hand forcing your legs open, touching your swollen muscle more intently with his index finger, his middle running down your slit, parting your folds. A jolt shook your whole body, your eyes opened wide as your hand clutched at Marco's arm, he looked down at you with an amused smile.

"It feels good, I know. I'm being careful with you, pretty girl, you should be grateful." There was something cruel in his voice, something that was obvious that promised he wouldn't be as careful as he claimed, he was just biding his time. He pulled away from you leaving you with a strange feeling of abandonment in your body, you saw him shed his clothes leaving only his boxers, his cock was marked against the fabric, evidence that he was starting to get aroused. He laid you down on the bed and positioned himself on top of you moving his hips against you, pounding your cunt with his cock still covered by the fabric. The action made your pussy begin to moisten again, soaking your folds, wetting the fabric of your underwear.

"I want to feel it." He spoke again drawing your attention realizing that his mouth was lowering dangerously between your legs. "I want to feel you cum for the first time. Let me taste what you taste like." His gaze riveted on you one last time before his lips closed over your swollen, needy clit.

Your body arched, involuntarily your legs closed against his head and your hands pulled at the man's hair. You didn't know how to define what you were feeling at that very moment as his lips caught your clit, sucking on your sensitive muscle, his tongue licking it, making a stimulating pressure on it as his lips closed a little tighter. You moaned uncontrollably, Marco opened his mouth wider to embrace your folds, his tongue flicking up and down your slit tracing your wetness until he pressed his tongue tip into your tight entrance. Your body tensed, your eyes widened and you heard Marco grunt as his mouth devoured you prolonging the orgasm that shook your body. He pulled away from you slowly, licking his lips, his eyes completely dark with desire, a smile etched on his mouth.

You cowered on the bed trying to protect your nakedness, feeling that your body was still recovering from the spasms coursing through it, tears pooling in your eyes began to run down your cheeks, but Marco didn't feel sorry for you. He crawled over your body to leave you trapped under his body, he wiggled his hips, his hard, needy cock rubbing against your hip bone leaving a wet trail over your skin.

"Did you want a treat?" He spoke over your ear catching your attention, making you look up at him. "Well, here's my deal; You will be mine, your body will belong to me, you will marry me and I will put a baby inside you." He hissed biting your neck. You gasped in surprise and shook your head sharply.

"N-no... No!" You tried to push him away so you could get away, but he held you back against the bed, pinning your wrists on the mattress, wedging himself between your legs so you couldn't get away. "Please don't!"

"Do you want your uncle to keep paying the debt that belonged to your father?" his words chilled the blood inside your veins.

"No... That's not... He would never..."

"Your father had gambling problems, he couldn't pay us back and when he died your uncle took over his debt so he wouldn't give you any trouble." He smiled with pure evil shining in his eyes. "He was afraid I might take advantage of you... And look at you, you finally came to me all by yourself."

Tears ran down your face again, feeling the anger growing inside your chest, the helplessness overtaking you, the feelings of guilt and shame building up, all this time believing your uncle was in trouble when in truth he was just protecting your stupid ass, for what, so that you would end up where he had tried to keep you from ending up, under Marco Vendetti's body, becoming one of his whores. You tensed as the man moved his hips, his cock hadn't lost its hardness at any point, it rubbed between your folds, its tip pressing against your over stimulated clit.

"Are you finally going to take responsibility for your debts?" Marco whispered again, there was malice, cruelty and amusement tinging his words, but you knew he was right. That was all about you, you had to finally take responsibility.

"O-Okay... I'll marry you..." You said so softly that Marco thought for a moment he had dreamed it. "But promise me you'll leave my uncle alone... None of this is his fault."

"Don't worry, I don't give a shit about your uncle." He assured you.

He held one of your legs to get better access to your cunt, his cock pressed against your entrance and pushed feeling your body react instantly to the intrusion by tightening around the tip of his cock that had barely managed to enter. A cry of pain came out of your mouth, you arched up and rested your hands on his chest wanting to push him away from you. It hurt, you felt uncomfortable, you didn't want him to continue, but Marco didn't stop, he pushed slowly pushing his length into you little by little, stretching your walls, making you lose control of yourself, again a strange sensation swirling inside you. It hurt, but at the same time the tugging you felt in your lower belly was nice and satisfying.

"S-Stop! It won't fit!" you cried out feeling full, your head dizzy, your mind clouded by the multiple sensations rushing through you at the same time.

"Of course it fits, honey. Your tight little pussy is taking me fucking good. I feel it squeezing me." His voice sounded husky, ecstatic, pleasure taking over his own judgment.

With one last thrust Marco was completely inside you, he needed a second to control himself and not cum at the sensation of your vagina suffocating his cock between your walls. You were grateful that he stopped, getting used to his invasion, the pain still shaking your body, you could feel the tip of his cock against your cervix, wanting to go much deeper, to reach his goal of impregnating you at that very moment. Before he could fully accommodate you to his size Marco began to move, pulling his cock out slowly again, leaving only the tip inside you and then thrusting all at once, all the way to the hilt, hitting your cervix again. You moaned loudly, arching under his body, digging your fingers into his arms. He released your leg to rest it on his waist and holding on to the sheets began to thrust at a frantic pace. In and out. Fast, brutal, deeper and deeper. The sensation of him pounding inside your loins each time he thrust inside you began to produce sparks in your vision turning you into a mess under his body letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

"That's it, take me completely." He growled in your ear, his lunges becoming more demanding, on the verge of his own orgasm. "I'm going to cum, I'm going to fill you so good, I'm going to put our baby inside you." He moaned against your ear and thrust several more times. "I'm going to fuck you until that stomach fills up." He assured you and lay completely still inside you. You closed your eyes holding in a gasp as his cum splashed and painted your walls white.

"Your father's debt is settled." He told you as he let you curl back onto the bed, your body marked by his hands, his teeth, your cunt dripping with his cum. "You belong to me now."

THE END!

I hope you liked it! That the idea was what you were hoping for!

See you in the next story!

[b0rista]

— 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄, 𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍, & 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐃. ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: language, because i can't form sentences without using "fuck" every other word JDJD.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: i only made this modern because i desperately wanted to include marco to the fullest leave me aloneEffsg. gn! reader, and i went pretty lengthy on this one so beneath the cut is where the headcanons start :)

𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓: bearbrickjia on instagram!

by far, the best friend group to have. everyone balances one another out, and it's a perfectly imperfect mesh of teenagers.

there's jean, the group's centerpiece. he's the alpha of the posse, usually working as their own personal line leader whenever they're caught doing something as a group. he'll never admit it, but he's also the dad friend. of course, he's more of a "i wish i never gave birth to you oh my god please leave me alone also i love you" type than the stereotypical dad friend.

there's marco, the glue holding the group together. unsurprisingly, he's the calm, kindhearted support system that balances out the cokeheads, keeping them all sturdy. without a doubt, the group would fall apart without him. they need him, okay!! and by "them," i mean jean and yourself. marco, never change.

following up, there's connie & sasha, the wonder twins. their roles are pretty self explanatory, given their natural rambunctiousness. they're the two that hang out outside of the group the most, for obvious reasons. they're the crackhead siblings that bring life to the group, despite the hot water they typically land the others in. through their antics and their comic relief, they're irreplaceable. still, it's easy to want to strangle them sometimes.

next, there's you! because you're the reader, i won't name any specifics, but you're greatly cherished. you mark your place in the crew through various ways, having a unique relationship with each and every member. when he's in need of a breather outside of his typical nest (AKA marco), jean hits your line. if you're needing any kind of assistance with literally anything ever, marco's there to help. craving some chaos? bitch, connie & sasha have GOT YOU.

the main hangout spot is jean's house, 100%. not only has his mom practically adopted the whole squad, but there's only two people living there, so it isn't crowded. connie banned literally all four of you from his place, lmao. there was too many people there, and his family lives to humiliate him.

the group has this one policy, set down by yourself and jean: four piece maximum. this is directed solely towards sasha, of course, considering her tendency to raid her friends' fridges entirely of any food. if she's ever caught rummaging through a fridge for longer than necessary, it's the home owner's duty to shout, "four piece minimum!"

^ it never fails to startle her 😭. one time, she hit her head so hard on the fridge ceiling at jean's house she had to use a bag of frozen peas to soothe the swelling.

then, she proceeded to eat the thawed out peas. jean gagged.

the inside jokes? endless. all it takes is one word from a single event, and the five of you are losing your shit. it's cute, to be honest, how overzealous you all get from a single instance from months ago.

"ha. heh. hee."

"what is it?"

"ngGhh,, chEDDAR TIDDIES-"

"AHHHHHAGAGSHHDJF-"

if there are any inside jokes formed between two group members that isn't shared with the rest of them, there will be immediate bitterness. one time, you and sasha were giggling to yourselves over some druggie named jerry who'd tried selling baskets of rotten cherries to the two of you during a gas station haul— the boys were not having it. what the fuck were you doing without them, "friends"?

right before starting your guys' senior year of highschool, the five of you were on a group facetime when you all sent your schedules into group chat. due to the scarceness of your soon-to-be-majors, absolutely none of you had any classes together. you had a single lunch period with connie while marco had one with jean, but that was about it. it was,, a dramatic discovery. sasha fucking screamed.

"i have nothing with nobody!"

"calm down, sash-"

"you have lunch with y/n! LUNCH! that's my place, lunch. this is despicable, this is evil, this is a braus hate crime-"

yeah, she didn't take it that well. it's okay, doe. the four of you made a special effort during your passing periods, giving sasha enough of a fix for her to make it through each and every day.

it isn't like the five of you don't hang out outside of the classroom, either!! if you hadn't already made plans during that week, the weekend is where you absolutely thrive as a group. study sessions that always shift into exclusive house parties, lunches spent at your favorite places, the occasional visit to the movie theater, and so on. with a mini crowd like that, it's hard for any of you to get bored.

jean's hopeless crush on mikasa is a big factor in your friendship. when everyone minus marco (because he's an angel) isn't mercilessly teasing him, you're all trying to actually help the fucker score the girl. from talking him up obnoxiously enough whereas she'll hear, or flat out telling her to give him a chance, it's an actual effort. though, it's unfortunately all to no avail. shawty's too smitten with eren to even consider her options.

^ with that being said, the four of you have to give jean the "there are other fish in the sea" scoop more often than you'd like to admit.

group cuddles. that's that.

because he's the tallest and therfore the longest (probably, depending on your height), everybody has a chosen body part of jean's to latch onto during naps. connie has one leg while you have the other, and sasha keeps her head rested on his shoulder. marco's at the very bottom, entangling his legs in your own. somehow, this is heaven for jean. he'll never admit to it, though. as far as any of you are concerned, he HATES IT.

ranking from #1 as the best and #5 as the worst, these are the rated group therapists: ��︎

#1: marco. self explanatory, he's an amazing listener and provides supremely good advice. that, and he'd literally rather die than let any of his friends internalize anything they're dying to let loose.

#2: you. really, you're just a lot better than jean or connie. sasha's okay at it, but she's not the best at rationalizing, leaving you at second best. basically, when marco isn't available, you're where the freak shows go. marco goes to you about things, too.

#3: sasha. again, she's just a loT better than the final two. sasha's a sweetheart! she's empathetic, and nonjudgmental. we love her in this house.

#4: connie. also somewhat of a sweetheart, although not as much as sasha. he'll drop a shit ton of humor into serious conversations, making them just a tad bit more tolerable.

#5: jean. look, he's a great friend! however, he isn't all that empathetic, and he'll have some trouble understanding. still, he would try his hardest to make you or the other three feel better :,)).

in a modern universe, i know damn well connie's a half-assed stoner 30% of the time. he doesn't light up all that often, and he doesn't tell anybody about it, even you guys. mainly because marco will grill him for it DJFK. however, you stumbled upon his mini marijuana stash and he was like ahh, shit. you didn't really care doe, his secret is safe with you. you, however, now have DIRT on him.

matching bracelets that you all made for eachother yEars ago but never wear 🥺🥺.

many, many, many poly relationship jokes. only jokes, though. some people take it too literally, which y'all just laugh at.

there's a miniature rivalry going on between you and another nearby friend group: reiner, bertholdt, annie, ymir, and christa. of course, all of you are friends, it's all fun in games— most of the time, anyway. it's a funny rivalry, and you guys go at it quite a bit.

one of your guys' most intense debates is whether or not marco has freckles on his dick.

he,, refuses to show any of you, or even anSweR you.

"you act like we can't just check whenever we use the urinals, man."

"CONNIE-"

now, marco refuses to go to the bathroom at the same time as any of the boys <\33.

the group band? black eyed peas.

[giorno-plays-piano]

No Mercy

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x thief!Reader

Warnings: non-con, yandere, sex pollen, minor depiction of violence, threats, stalking, allusion to kidnapping, both Bakugo and reader are adults!

Words: 2388.

Summary: Obviously, you have chosen a wrong night to rob that electronics store.

P.S. Yay, this is my first BNHA story! 

By the way, there is absolutely no real science in this fic, please don’t bully me for it ahahahah

_________________________

Oh dear, it was getting worse.

That morning you had a feeling you better stay home tonight, but your rent wasn't going to pay itself, so you still went out to rob that ugly little electronics store you stumbled upon a few days ago. Now you were being chased by one of the most popular pros, Ground Zero, and saints, you really hoped to keep all your limbs attached to your body: the guy was mad.

Really, you weren't such a villain he had probably pictured you to be. Your job in the cafe wasn't paying well, but with no education whatsoever it was hard to find something else, especially since that big makeup store you finally got yourself in went bankrupt after a villain attack. Your dad wasn't the one to help you stay afloat either, so, with that odd Quirk of yours, there was just one thing left to do.

With a loud sound of something exploding to your right, you jumped in the narrow back alley on the left and prayed Bakugo to at least bring you to a police station instead of finishing you off here. Seriously, who he thought you were? Someone from the League of Villains, huh? You were miserable enough trying to evade his punches, and your knees were already trembling as you were reaching your limit.

Shit, now you'd have to use that embarrassing Quirk of yours and hope it will do something decent.

Despite your Quirk manifesting itself when you were 4 just like everybody else, you were so ashamed of it you did all you could to never bring it up or use it. How embarrassing was it to have an ability to produce animal secretion right out of your hands? One time you had literally sprayed skunk defensive secretion in the class, and after that you had been called a Stinky Girl for the rest of your school days. Damn, even remembering it now was making you ashamed of yourself.

Of course, your control over your Quirk was miserable. You struggled to predict which secretion it would produce, hoping it would be something distracting enough for a hero to let you go, but oh boy Ground Zero didn't seem like the type to be scared of skunk's spray.

Staring at the dead end, you were ready to laugh hysterically - that is, if you had any time left, but Bakugo had already grabbed you by the shoulder and yelled something offensive in your ear, ready to put you down to the ground. Well, it was now or never.

Within a second you took off your black glove you'd always worn on your missions and slapped hero's cheek, leaving an angry red mark on his pale skin. The next moment you were on the ground with a very, very mad Bakugo hovering over you with such expression as if he was going to murder you in cold blood right now.

Apparently, your Quirk was useless, after all. Preparing for the worst, you stared at him, wide-eyed and trembling like a leaf, your hands up defensively to prevent him from harming you. In the end, you didn’t even steal anything as Ground Zero stormed off in the store.

But he didn't hit you. Actually, he didn't do anything at all as you stared at him nervously. He just... stood there with a grimace on his face and did nothing at all.

Oh, was it something new? Did you Quirk finally prove itself useful for once? It was a damn miracle.

"What did you do to me, bitch?" He suddenly barked, and you saw his cheeks slowly getting red as if the temperature went up all of a sudden. "What the fuck is this?!"

Shit. Civet oil. Of course, you couldn't even make some decent quantity to make him repulsed, so now all you got was a completely opposite effect.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?"

Hiccupping, you got up just as he seemed to lean closer to you, so you ended up smashing your forehead against his, and both of your groaned. Although you fell back again, in a couple of seconds you were running for your life with Ground Zero being unusually slow somewhere behind you. Oh shit, now he was going to fuck and kill you. What a nice day you were having.

Struggling to keep running - you didn’t even understand at what part of the city you were now - you were getting out of breath, but you no longer heard Bakugo behind your back, and it was certainly calming. Did civet oil make him slow? You weren't sure what exact effects it had except for the most obvious one. Maybe you got lucky, for once. Maybe he'd let you go just this time, and you'd do your absolute best to find a decent job and stop robbing people. Well, you weren't even robbing regular people, just snobby store owners who'd get their money back with an insurance, anyway. You had never hurt anyone physically! Why treating you as if you were some dangerous criminal?

Whatever. Ground Zero was nowhere to be seen, so you simply landed on the ground in one of small filthy backyards in a shady part of the city. Oh boy, what a run. You thought the guy was literally ready to kill you.

The cold wall you leaned on didn't feel pleasant, but it was better than staying on your feet with your knees trembling and heart beating so fast as if you ran a marathon. Yeah, to think of it, you definitely could call it a marathon.

As you finally took off your mask and wiped your face with your palm, you heard a low growl somewhere to your left, "I'm gonna fucking break you, woman."

Shit.

Scrambling to your feet, you tried dodging him but you were no match to a real pro, especially someone as good at combat as Ground Zero: you ended beneath him within a second, painfully slammed to the ground as he cursed at you, pulling your hair. Apparently, this was the end of you. The civet oil only made the hero more enraged instead of distracting him.

"Ah! It hurts!" You whined at the hair pulling and heard a dangerous hiss above you.

"Do you think this doesn't fucking hurt?"

It was impossible not to feel his obvious arousal, his painfully hard cock pressing against your lower back as the hero suddenly sniffed your hair, then making some weird noises while trying to undo his pants. Nononono, you weren't having this, you'd gladly accompany the hero to the police station where they'd cuff you and put you in prison but not let Ground Zero have his way with you.

"Get off! GET OFF!"

Your attempts to throw him off were futile, and soon he was pulling down your own pants, "You did this to me, didn't you?! So be a good girl and maybe I won't fucking kill you."

You bit down on your lower lip, your hands bound together with his belt.

Huh, there was no other way.

______________

You came back home around 3 am completely exhausted, dirty and hurt, but it was still better than being thrown in prison after a long Interrogation in a police station. Ground Zero had finally taken some pity on you after all he'd done - oh it hurt, it hurt so bad in between your thighs because you hadn't been in relationship for long, but the hero was neither patient nor gentle with you. It was a miracle he actually let you go after this miserable incident somewhere in the outskirts of the city. Was he at least a little ashamed at what he did? Did he feel any remorse? Although it certainly didn't seem like, maybe he let you go because of it.

"Or he was just afraid to deliver me to police in such state," you chuckled grimly at yourself, grabbing first-aid kit and trying to do something with all these bruises and bites. You still had to take your 10-hour shift in the cafe today, and you could barely imagine how you were going to survive.

Of course, you only slept for a couple of hours before you had to get up: that morning you put so much makeup your boss would definitely scold you, but it was better than showing up with a face of a zombie. Of course, everyone managed to see how you winced while walking. Thank god you were able to convince them of your fall yesterday's evening: you actually only worked half a day as your boss took pity on you and let you go home.

Shit, it was time to put an end to your night adventures. You'd better find one more job and work a whole night long than live through this one more time, humiliated and hurt.

By the time you got home with a grocery bag in your hand, you felt like all you were going to do today was falling down on your bed and staring into the ceiling for hours. It still hurt. It was still embarrassing to remember what he did to you. You still wanted to slap him real hard and then yell at him at the top of your voice.

Funny enough, you actually had a chance to do all that since you found Ground Zero dressed as civilian sitting on your couch.

For a couple of seconds you froze on your place, unable to believe your eyes. What the hell was he doing here? What, yesterday's wasn't enough for this bastard, was it? Did he come to make you even more miserable?

Despite fear rising in your chest, it was soon replaced by fury mixed with disgust: who did he think he were to just break into your apartment like this? You might be a thief, but even you had the right to be delivered to police and then wait till the court decided upon your punishment. Nobody had given Ground Zero permission to rape you or follow you like some sick stalker!

"You live in some fucking hole." He grumbled as he saw you walking much slower than your usual pace, and you thought it was guilt you saw on his face for a mere second.

"Welcome to a fucking hole, then." You hissed at him in return and put your bag on the floor while taking your shoes off and wincing from pain. "If you came to finally take me to a police station, let me put food in the fridge, at least."

Not that you'd need it after your arrest, but the thought of leaving the grocery bag on the floor and let the food rot made you nauseated. You detested throwing away food with all your heart.

"Food? You call this food, huh?" He was already peeking inside the bag and scrunching his face at the sight of cheep noodles and gyoza.

"Yeah, we call it food here, rich boy." You let out a growl, mad at his attempts to make you feel humiliated even more than you already did.

He clearly didn't expect such treatment from someone whom he had taken advantage of so easily, and for several moment the man had a perplexed expression, unable to believe you were so brave despite the fact your knees were trembling. He probably thought it was a facade, but you didn't care. All this wouldn't end well for you, anyway.

"I'm not rich." He sent you a glare, and you felt like laughing in his face.

"If you don't have to steal to pay your rent, you're rich."

He grimaced but said nothing at all as you went to the kitchen, dragging the bag with you. You wondered if he felt sorry for you, but you didn't want his pity. Not from the one who did this to you. In fact, the only thing you wanted from him was leaving you alone.

Besides, you kept thinking why on Earth wasn't he dressed as a hero if he came explicitly to take you to a police station? Heroes like him loved showing off, you were sure. Why did he come like this? If he thought of repeating yesterday's night, you'd fucking stab him in the groin with a kitchen knife.

"So, how many heroes have you fucked like that?"

You felt a sudden urge to stab him right now and barely kept yourself away from a box where you kept cutlery. "I do three heroes a day and three villains at night," you growled at him, disgusted with his attitude, "what, didn't you feel it when you were raping me?"

Your reply took him aback, but he recovered quickly, "Who was raping you, silly woman? You did it to yourself!"

"Yeah, I've always dreamed of being taken by some sickening, primitive hero in a dirty alley, that's more than any girl could ask for."

Huh, apparently, cat got his tongue: Ground Zero stared at you, unable to believe your words. What, did he really think you loved being treated like this? Did he have any idea what making love was? Anything about normal, adequate relationship between a man and a woman? Maybe you weren't the most law-abiding woman in the city, but you were still a decent person, and the fact that Ground Zero expected you to manipulate him into raping you was repulsive.

"Listen, just hand me over to police already. What are you waiting for, Ground Zero?"

All the food was long put in the fridge and kitchen cabinets. Staring intensely at the man who shouldn't even be here, you crossed your arms over your chest, expecting him to drag you out of the house, but when he stepped closer to you it felt suffocating. Shit, the fear was coming back when you saw his expression darkened, his red pupils dilating when he grabbed your arm above the elbow and pulled you to him. Was he really going to do this to you?

You expected him to snap at you, but when he spoke he sounded strangely cold and collected.

"First, you will call me Bakugo from now on," he voice was dangerously low, "Second, I haven't come all the way here to bring to a fucking police station. You will come with me, do you understand?"

_______________

I didn’t put my regular taglist here since it was only made for Marvel fics, but please let me know if your want to be on my BNHA taglist, too!

[boop-le-snoot]

cupid carries a gun

masterlist • taglist & faq

dark!Bruce Banner x named!Reader. Rated R.

Dr. Banner is a serial killer known as the Doctor and Bailey has his soulmark. He escapes imprisonment and meets his soulmate. ~2,2k words. Serial killer fluff??

[no y/n, no 'you', no reader description, race/age/body type neutral, only first name]

This is more of a concept I wrote in an hour than an actual fic. I think it would make a good multi-chapter, but really, my hands are full now and I just needed to get this weird dream off my chest. Yes, I had a dream he was a serial killer and I was his soulmate 💀🖐🏻 I need to ease up on true crime shows istg...

St. John's was suffering a nasty collective psychosis. That would be the only logical explanation Bailey is willing to accept for the jittery, jerky way everybody is behaving. Some of it could be attributed to the armed guards roaming the halls and scaring the patients - but in America, a gun slung over the shoulder shouldn't invoke such a reaction from people.

Only select few know what these people are there for, anyways. Most hospital population is clueless, only vaguely perceiving the sense of dread those harbouring the knowledge seem to carry around. People are easily scared - the thought doesn't leave Bailey's head her whole shift.

She, however, knows exactly what is happening. She's good at her job, brilliant even, nerves made of purest steel and bedside manner perfectly compassionate and tender. It doesn't come as a surprise that she is the one that got chosen to handle the problematic, uncooperative patients.

The bar is high, and this time - neigh impossible. A man so dangerous, so volatile, it required the sheriff to dispatch their town's squadron of special forces - not that was anything but a slight setback for the Doctor. The halls of this hospital will be forever marred with their blood, will forever be haunted by the echoes of their screams abruptly cutting off with a wet squelch.

Bailey thought she'd done her part to protect the innocents. Her colleagues, young women just like her (they're not, Bailey's mind whispers), all safely locked away in a storage closet for the cops to find. There are no windows and He won't see or hear them... If they're smart.

There he is, the man everybody is savagely afraid of. He is everything and nothing she had imagined - Doctor Bruce Banner is on the shorter side, stocky and sickly pale in his hospital issue pajamas, the bluish tint to his skin contrasted by dark crimson stains of blood on the rancid green cotton of his clothes.

The axe in his hands is held firmly but clumsily - Bailey's sure it wouldn't have been his weapon of choice should he had been given one. A choice. She swallowed the unease that spread all over her determination like mold, seeing his eyes, wild and crazy, land on the crook of her arm - where his mark laid, bright red and angry, as if it had been carved into her flesh mere days ago.

"Are you, perhaps, in need of a nurse, doctor Banner?" Bailey inquired softly, fingertips shaking, as the man crossed the space between them with short, powerful strides. The woman's stance widened, involuntary shivers running through her bones at the unexpected tenderness coming from him - Dr. Banner's palms gently wrapped around her arm, warm, chapped lips touching the angry, red soulmark near the crook of her elbow.

"It's been so long since I had a nurse," the man's mutter was barely audible. His eyes, the warmest brown she'd ever seen, met Bailey's wide, shining ones, for her to discover no trace of the madness she was told should be there. Bailey smiled.

As the hospital building grew smaller in the rear view mirror, so did Bailey's anxiety, paving way to excitement and muted curiosity. Her mother always had told that fate had a way of intervening when it was needed - and her mom had oftentimes taken up the role onto herself, moving them out of the state when Bailey's soulmark began to appear on dead people's bodies, burned or cut into skin as a signature. Bailey was not old enough to understand what it meant, back then, but she'd always been a clever girl.

With her first mobile device, she figured out why her mother strictly prohibited her from speaking about it, why her mother always kept a stash of large bandaids to cover it should Bailey be required to remove her long-sleeve shirt.

Only Bailey's physician knew. She'd expected terror, disgust - or even pity, but Dr. Strange always kept his mouth and eyes shut. As Bailey grew older, blossomed into a fine young woman, she thought she saw envy leak into his chiseled features - but Dr. Strange was as quiet and cynical as ever.

As long as nobody tried to separate them, it would be fine. A small smile stretched her plush lips, hand squeezing the one holding hers with giddiness creeping into her youthful features. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an expression of curious tranquility on Dr. Banner's- Bruce's face as his eyes stayed firmly on the road as the radio crackled static in-between songs.

"Penny for your thoughts?" The man she'd grown to crave and fear, his salt and pepper curls bouncing with every pothole the car hit; his warm hand, larger than hers by a stretch, provided comfort she hadn't known she needed.

"Where to, doc?" The woman couldn't hold back the anticipation. She wanted to hold him, to be close - closer than her small, cramped cheap car allowed them to be.

"I have some friends waiting for me," the man announced, as if he hadn't spent the last five years in a maximum security prison. Not that it mattered to Bailey - but knowing there was no way back from this, Bruce's so-called friends became a point of doubt to the young woman. The doctor noticed it, his responding smile both dangerous and comforting, all sharp canines and moist lips. "You know them, baby. Dr. Strange is a colleague of mine and Tony Stark is a great friend."

Bailey's eyebrows rose, mild disbelief caught somewhere in her trachea as she attempted to clear her throat. Her family physician and the businessman rumoured to be the largest crime boss of their side of the pond. Suddenly, Strange's long glances and penetrating stares acquired a new meaning, a sense of indignation seeping into Bailey's newly found joy. "And he never said anything," the longing, the countless nights spent studying every publicly available material on Dr. Banner, the killer surgeon that terrorised the Tri-State area burned acrid in her chest.

"He told everything to me," Bruce's remark stung if only from the fact that he'd known about her all along. "Who, do you think, pushed for your transfer to St. John's?" Bruce's smile glinted a little wicked in the meager light of passing-by streetlights as the evening sun simmered down to a rest below the horizon. "I don't actually have cancer," the second remark was more optimistic, spoken hopefully, with another gentle squeeze to her hand.

Bailey puffed out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The puzzle pieces slowly started to arrange themselves, revealing a bigger picture than the one before. She wanted to be mad - mad at Stephen, for not saying anything; mad at Bruce, for getting himself caught years prior. And the anger at her own mother, for taking away her right to stand by her soulmate, for all the countless fights and nights spent locked up in her room.

Bailey had been treated like a monster as soon as he soulmark showed up - and after so much time spent trying to show she wasn't one, perhaps, it was time to face the truth. Perhaps, it was time to show them how much of a monster she could be, if they were so unhappy before.

Gravel flew under the wheels of Bailey's beaten up Toyota Corolla, sending little pebbles to bang noisily against the bumper and the stone flower beds surrounding the driveway to a large two-story mansion. Two cars stood in from of it with two men leaning each against their own vehicle.

The shorter figure was well-dressed, suit obviously bespoke and expensive, sunglasses reflecting the headlights of her Toyota even from a distance away. The taller figure stood out with familiarity, a lit cigarette freely dangling between the finger of his gesturing hand - Dr. Strange and his long, sculpted legs, Bailey could recognise even from a mile away.

Bruce parked, killing the engine and exiting the car with a free, lopsided grin carelessly thrown in Bailey's direction. Fumbling with the lock of her seatbelt, the woman's eyes latched onto the figure of her soulmate eagerly embracing the shorter man, their reunion evidently long-awaited and happy. Stephen's coarse laugh penetrated the interior of the car as the wacky passenger side seatbelt finally let Bailey free.

Three pairs of eyes bore into her body still wearing the scrubs from the hospital - one laughing, Strange was amused; one curious - none other than Tony Stark and his shameless smirk had made an appearance at their first getaway destination; and Bruce, looking so damn proud and lovesick. The grin tugged at Bailey's lips as the presence of the other men barely registered in her elevetaed emotional state.

"Damn, Brucie-bear, lucky you," Tony Stark wolf-whistled, clapping the doctor on the shoulder and receiving a fond eyeroll in return. Those two really were good friends. "Well, I won't hold you two back from getting to know each other better," Stark wiggled his eyebrows salaciously. "We can talk business tomorrow," with that, Stark waltzed over to Bailey, snatching the keys to her car out of her hands with a quick flick of his wrist. "Can't have a car allegedly containing a runaway prisoner on my property, now can I? Don't worry, babycakes, my people will take care of it. Bruce is family. You better treat him well, or else," the river of words flowed from Tony's mouth, causing the surprised Bailey to simply freeze in place and withstand his rambling, surrounded by the smell of whiskey and Stark's expensive cologne.

Despite his easy tone and the relaxed demeanor, Bailey knew a dangerous man when saw one. Tony Stark was not to be fucked with. "Yeah," she mumbled, scampering for the trunk to take out the duffle bag she carried around everywhere - just in case. Just in case her serial-killing, incarcerated-for-life soulmate would somehow found his way to her.

Tony looked at the spectacle with amusement. "You won't need your ID, sweetheart. All of that is going to be taken care of, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Duly noted," Bailey couldn't help the annoyed frown at Tony's frivolousness. Her government ID was the last thing on her mind. She wasn't stupid, she knew her mother would go to the cops as soon as she saw the news. "I have my own business to attend to. Might need a hand," the realization came with the dull thud of the trunk being slammed shut.

Tony's eyebrows rose; Bruce approached her with caution, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. "Is it urgent?"

"Her mother knows about their connection," Strange piped up, glowing ember of the cigarette flying somewhere over the car. The sound of a lighter followed immediately, another dot of shiny red standing out in the twilight. "Don't worry, Bailey, she's detained and sedated for the time being," he offered with a crooked smirk, nearly no trace of the quiet man who bandaged her boo-boos when she was a child.

"You planned this," Bailey observed, fighting the dread crawling up her spine. The realization - she will never step back, will never be able to escape this life - set in. She was unprepared, having acted on a whim, prepared to live on the run but not within an arm's reach of her previous life yet unable to resume it.

"A long time ago," Strange nodded. "You always were a clever girl, Bailey. It is delightful to finally you where you belong," he smiled at Bruce in earnest.

Bailey wondered what else was going on in the sleepy town of hers. What kind of atrocities were committed daily under her nose, by the very people she knew and trusted. There was so much evil in this world.

But not Bruce. He could never be evil, even as he cut the hearts out of the men that had been treating those around them as objects. Bruce merely made them what they should've been; the greed, the infidelity - what use did those men have for their hearts? The Doctor was merciful and true: he never caused his patients undue pain and always, always left them in a state they were true to themselves. It wasn't his fault so many of his patients were heartless beasts for men.

Those clever hands, the same hands that brought the world at his feet, brought Bailey at his - voluntarily so. Their bodies hot, impatient for each other, with their blood singing a song of lust and longing, both of them hidden from the world by the heavy velvet curtains of Tony's estate - it was hellfire in heaven.

No amount of time too long as Bruce's teeth closed around Bailey's jugular, sinking into the flesh tenderly, all the while her nails penetrated the skin of his back; both drew blood, content to drown in it and wash their sins away with it. Heaven and Hell were merely words for the two, anyway.

Bruce Banner taglist:

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @pilloclock @sapphicnoodle69