#he also has to wear a guard over his upper teeth

[rxttenfish]

hm hm hmmm. redesign liam sketches for the day.

vampirism, in the context of the redesign universe, is a magic-derived virus that ends up "regurgitating" the "memory" contained in the traces of the magic that makes it up to alter its hosts' features. its very poorly understood why the virus does this, or if there are any benefits at all, as usually the results end in simply killing the host. vampirism specifically is a bloodborne illness, felicitated through blood-blood or blood-saliva contact, and has been known to have a major non-symptomatic foothold in populations of blood-eating insects, as well as many animals that are also known rabies vector species.

every vampire was born a human, and still fundamentally is one in every way. they don't get any special abilities from the illness — liam has to wear a medical corset because his ribs moved upwards and began to fuse together, so his diaphragm is weak and he requires the additional structure, as well as having braces for his hands and knees/hips. they aren't a separate species, and if you ask one, they will call themselves human.

however, due to stigma, there is the preconceived notion in other humans that vampires have ceased to be one.

[fuctacles]

If you saw the snippets where i fucked up the timeline no u didnt.

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"What's his name?" Steve asks, playing with the bunny's paw. The only time he let go of him since last night was to use the bathroom.

"Frankenbunny," Eddie answers, and smiles when Steve snorts after hearing it. "My grandma made him from fabric scraps grandpa would bring from work. I've made the vest, though." He stretches and blinks his eyes open properly, in time to see Steve's impressed expression.

"Really?"

"Well, Wayne helped," he added. "It's actually made from the same jacket I turned into my vest." 

"Oh, that's so cool!" Steve turns the bunny around to take a better look at the details. The tiny vest even has frayed edges and Dio stitched on the back. "You guys match."

Eddie snorts. 

"Yeah, we're both full of stitches," he points out dryly. 

Steve hums, pressing the toy closer to his face. It's something he's done before sleep, too, but last night Eddie wrote it off as a drunken mirage.

"And both pretty handsome fellas," he says, face half-hidden behind the bunny. He opens one eye, looking from under his eyelashes shyly, trying to gauge Eddie's reaction. 

Which, Eddie would love to know and understand as well.

"Oh, I don't know," he shrugs, reaching out to poke at Frankenbunny's face. "He doesn't have the signature Munson dimples." When in doubt, joke, as the Denial Decalogue says. 

Steve hums. 

"Yeah, I guess he can't hold a candle to the real thing. Not as talkative, for one."

Eddie can't help but stare, still leaning over his friend as he processes what he's heard. 

"You like my constant yapping?" he asks in surprise. Even his uncle seems tired of it, at times. Only his players appreciate his word flow, but that's with benefit to them.

"Of course." Steve focuses his attention back on the toy. "When you talk, I don't have to, I can just listen. And that's good because I tend to say some stupid shit," he says, almost absentmindedly. "This way, I'm not the dumb one in the room for once."

The casual innocence of his voice makes the meaning of his words miss Eddie completely until the air waves hit his other ear. 

"Oh, you little..."

As Steve's cheeky smirk grows, he pounces. 

Frankenbunny falls away, the hands holding him now focused on guarding all the ticklish spots. 

"Eddie!" Steve laughs, trying to grasp his wrists and squirm away. "We need to be quiet." 

"Should have though of it before being a brat!" Eddie grins at him, doubling his efforts and moving to pin him in place. 

Steve makes a distressed sound and writhes under him, bending hard enough it dislodges Eddie off of him but also, off the bed. He falls down with a surprised squeak.

"Sorry!" Steve barely suppresses his laugh when he looks down at him. "You alright?"

"No," Eddie groans, splayed on the floor. "I got back-stabbed."

"The dramatics are intact, you'll be fine," he rolls his eyes and steps over him. Eddie makes an even more wounded sound, but Steve ignores him, choosing to look for something comfy to wear instead. He throws a tshirt that doesn't smell of barbecue at Eddie's face, mistakenly assuming that's it—they are going to leave his bedroom and start on breakfast for the others. 

Wrong.

As soon as he has a pick of clothes in his hand, and is trying to get to the bathroom, Eddie grabs his ankle. He makes an undignified yelp and lands on the other boy. Which, serves him well. 

They roll on his carpet in an impromptu wrestling match, grinning at each other and muffling their laughs, trying to get the upper hand. 

Until Steve snaps his teeth at Eddie.

They freeze, two pairs of wide eyes staring at the other in silence. 

Steve moves first, backing away and almost falling over Eddie's knees. 

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he explains quickly, scrambling to get off his friend. Eddie doesn't stop him, just stares openly at the mesmerizing specimen in front of him.

"That was so fucking hot."

"I don't know why I did—what?" Steve sits back on his haunches, eyes even wider as he stares at Eddie. At his wild hair splayed around his head, at his flushed face. The sliver of skin visible where his shirt has ridden up while they were roughhousing. 

"What?" he parrots, licking his lips nervously. 

"What did you just say?" Steve presses, voice turning desperate, pressing. But Eddie seals his mouth into a tight line. Lead by a hunch, he looks for his answer down the line of his body.

"Hey!" Eddie protests, sitting up and pulling his shirt down. But it was too late, the tent in his pants has been seen. "What the fuck, man?!" he hisses, his face red and eyes wide in panic. 

"Sorry, I—" Steve bites his lip. "But I snapped at you? That's weird, right?"

"Well, I'm apparently into weird, so..." Eddie trails off, looking away. Pointedly avoiding Steve's searching eyes. 

"You're into it?" he prods, but all Eddie can give him is a shrug. It's too fresh of a feeling to properly explain. Hell, he hasn't full came to terms with it himself yet. 

"Is it like a... a sex thing?" Steve tries again. 

"Maybe? Probably? I don't know!" Eddie snaps defensively, folding in on himself to hide his thankfully wilting erection. 

Steve's silence is terrifying, and when he looks up, he finds his eyes still studying him.

"Quit staring, man," he mumbles, squeezing his thighs together. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." Steve shakes his head. "It's fine, it happens. But just... don't move for a second."

"It happens," Eddie is muttering mockingly, when the rest of his friend's words register in his brain. "What?" But Steve is already too close, and he can't escape. Not that he wants to. "Steve," he says quietly, between a warning and a plea, when warm breath hits his neck.

Steve is sniffing him. At the crook of his neck, where undoubtedly his embarrassment has gathered in a pool of sweat.

He's terrified in a way that has nothing to do with fear. Worried what Steve might smell on him, when his surprisingly cold nose brushes his skin. 

Or maybe it's him running hot with whatever has just transpired. 

Eddie flinches at the touch and Steve moves away, his eyes big and warm with something he can't read. 

"You're fine," he says, and it sounds more like a relief of his own than reassurance for Eddie. "I'm into weird too."

Eddie looks at him quizzically, until he realizes it's not Steve's face holding his answers. He trails his gaze down, and immediately aims it back upward, over-correcting towards the heavens, where maybe he'll get some guidance.

"Shit," he croaks out from his closed up throat. Steve is way too close to him too, from his impromptu sniffing session. Eddie coughs to clear his airways. "Why did you smell me? Is it that bad?" he jokes, but has a feeling Steve won't take the out. Not with the curious way he's looking at him. 

"You smell like want," he answers with painful honesty. "Embarrassment."

Eddie blushes at that one. Well, yeah. Popping a boner in front of your, uh, something, will do that to a man.

"But also joy, affection," Steve continues. "And no fear."

"Why would I fear you? We were just playing around. It's not like you're gonna bite me," he focuses on the safest option. He's not unpacking his feelings for Steve first thing in the morning. Maybe after a coffee. 

It's Steve's turn to go beet red. 

"Sometimes I want to."

"What?" 

He shuffles back sheepishly. 

"Sometimes I see you and I really, really wanna bite you."

Eddie stares at him.

"In like, a werewolf way?" he asks dumbly, earning himself a flat look.

"I think we've established this is not how werewolves are made. I meant in, like, a playful way," he explains. "Like, I'm so excited and happy I can't hold it in anymore, way."

He wants to ask if it's a pack thing, but bites his tongue, not sure if anyone has even taught Steve pack rituals. The guy is going through pure instincts alone, and should be supported in it, so really, there's only one thing he can say.

"Well, why won't you?"

They stare at each other in stunned silence, until a clatter comes from downstairs.

"Steeeeve! The express is doing it again!"

Eddie deflates with a groan, falling back onto the carpet. What the fuck did he just say? He won't survive this crush. Steve will be no help, as he's now hovering over his body.

"We'll get back to this," he says quietly, in a promise or a warning, before clambering upright and out of the room, yelling at Robin.

"Do not press the fucking button!"

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot @dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1 @stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible @bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets @ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight  @eyehartart @ellietheasexylibrarian @im-sam-fucking-winchester

[generic-whumperz]

Vinny (Character Sheet)

Picrew

Playlist | Masterlist | Character Info

Playing opposing roles as Wyatt's partner in crime and Waylon's inside man, Vinny skillfully navigates the tumultuous dynamics between his older cousins, guided by genuine love and loyalty.

After The Aid's shocking murder attempt on Wyatt, Vinny took it upon himself to assume a greater role as The Aid's keeper, a move that revealed his pragmatic understanding of the asset's value to the Sullivans' empire and his surprising knack for diplomacy. When not attempting to broker moments of harmony between Wyatt and The Aid or covering supply runs for the family business Waylon mans, Vinny fuels his own destructive habits with Wyatt—recklessly hitting casinos and bars before scoring a bag to split for the night. Vinny is fiercely driven by his desire to help maintain family power and status in Apocamerica's supply chain, quelling both brothers by serving Waylon by day and partying with Wyatt by night. Despite his twisted, one-sided “friendship” with The Aid, his unwavering kinsmanship with Wyatt outweighs all as they both share a hunger for twisted delights–and Wyatt knows just how to fan the flames of his wild side.

Full name: Vincent Warren Sullivan (Vinny)

Role: secondary antagonist, Whumper/part-time Carewhumper

Date of Birth & sign: June 1, 1985 (47), Gemini (story takes place in the year 2032)

Gender: cis-male

Sexuality: pansexual

Height: 6'2"

Weight/body type/build: 180lbs-ish. Wiry, long-limbed, a bit pigeon-chested.

Hometown: Newark, New Jersey

Family Members: Sullivan family tree. He bounces around a lot because of work but basically lives with Wyatt. Very close with Wyatt and Waylon, basically their brother.

Left/right handed: right

Fav genre of music & anthem: 90s & early 2000s rap (claims East Coast is superior, yet his anthem is a West Coast classic), How I Could Just Kill A Man by Cypress Hill

Occupation: "Independent contractor." Jack of all trades and Waylon's right hand: fixer, security, transportation guard, caporegime (capo), hitman, former Army medic, torturer and snuff film cameraman. Somehow knows a little something about everything and always "knows a guy." He didn't get his HS diploma or GED; instead, he joined the Army soon after he got out of Juvie.

Ethnicity (+ American): Italian, French, Greek, English, Romanian, Bulgarian, Turkish, Serbian, Armenian

Hair color & length: dark brown/brown-black wavy mid-length grown-out hair. Usually combed and slicked back to make it look straighter than it is, shaved down on the sides with an undercut. Some chest hair, but not super hairy. He is usually clean-shaven around his signature petite goatee.

Hygiene: looks like he smells like an ashtray and liquor, and usually does. Not the best hygiene, also not the worst, somewhere in the middle, but is more up-kept when on the job. He uses minimal products and will just dose himself with cologne to mask the cigarette and vodka smell. But he takes good care of his teeth and has a collection of grillz, usually sportin' gold tooth caps on both canine teeth + inlay, and gold trip gap filler between front teeth (pictures below).

Eye color: pale, steely blue, almond-shaped, and hooded eyes.

Skin tone: olive with cool undertones. He can get a lot darker if he gets a tan, but he is usually inside or hiding under shade if outside, so he's rather pale.

Facial features: long, inverted triangle-shaped head. Thin, boxy upper lip mouth. Long, downturned, Roman nose. Straight eyebrows with little to no arch. Narrow ears. Narrow jaw, long chin. Long, thick eyelashes that make him look like he's wearing eyeliner. He usually has bags under his eyes because he's running on nothing but 3 hours of sleep, caffeine, and coke.

Mannerisms: clicks tongue or runs tongue over his gold teeth, sniffs/wrinkles nose, clears throat, and purses lips frequently. Lots of face twitching. If he's not smoking, he's smacking on some gum or snacking on gummy candy. Fidgety, has a hard time sitting still, therefore he’s either pacing or bouncing a knee. Bit of a jabber jaw, sings or hums tunes (someone thought they had a rap career as a youngin). Gets bored easily. Obsessively cleans his guns and knives. Resting bitch face looks like he's unamused or irritated. He snorts and laughs a lot, always cracking jokes. Files his nails daily. Cracks knuckles, neck, and back. Shuffles a deck of cards he has on hand. Checks his tackle-box drug stash he carries around like a lunch pail.

Nervous ticks: it takes a lot to make him nervous since he's spent a lifetime rubbing shoulders with gang members, spent time in juvie, in the trenches of war zones, and as a professional hit man, and has killed countless anthrophages without hesitation. He's good at maintaining a level head in stressful situations, but even he has his limits. When he's actually nervous, he'll rub his chin with his index finger, comb his fingers through hair and scratch his head, yell and punch things, may shoot off bullets into the air or throw knives at something, and in an effort to collect himself, he'll swallow hard and count backward from 5 or 10 to try to ground and calm himself. Rolls his shoulders and shakes his head as if trying to shake off the tension.

Posture: relaxed, cocky and confident. Go-to stance is the power pose with his hands on his hips or clasped in front of him (and perhaps fingers wrapped around a gun). He often leans against things with one shoulder. Uses a swagger walk with a lot of sway in his shoulders. When sitting, he's usually laid back with his legs spread or hunched over, fiddling with something in his hands. Moves a lot and shifts from side to side if he's sitting or standing—rather douchey body language.

Style: in a pressed, solid black Giorgio Armani suit with black Italian leather loafers (when working), in a dingy tracksuit with a white tank underneath, or jeans with a T-shirt or button-up and a leather jacket with motorcycle boots. Wears chains around his neck, rings, and small hoop earrings. Always strapped and always blinged out.

Guns he always has within reach—Colt 1911 Government, 45 ACP, 7 + 1, Cathedral, All 24K Gold, and GLOCK 20 Gen 4 Semi-Auto Pistol (pics).

Health: for as many drugs he does, the amount of cigarettes he smokes, and the volume of alcohol he drinks, he's surprisingly healthy—or as healthy as he can be. He works out a few times a week and gets in his cardio with jogging and boxing. Agile and can fight. He doesn't have the best diet but thinks eating a salad every other day, chugging protein shakes, and eating trail mix is the secret to his health success. Enjoys a good smoothie creation with The Aid, and it doubles as a small, weird thing they bond over.

Piercings/tattoos: ears pierced and wears small rings, bunch of tattoos—like too many for me to go into detail right now. Here are some tat ideas I swiped off Pinterest (I didn't make any of these) to give an idea, a tat mood board, if you will.

Birthmarks/scars: scar around his neck from when a gang of kids tried to strangle him to death with a wire in juvie. He has a lot of scars from fighting and his time in the Army, but covered them up with tats.

Language(s): English. Thinks he knows Italian, doesn’t.

Personality: dependable. Loyal. Sycophant to rivals. Cleaver. Resourceful. Quick-witted. Surprisingly competent and knowledgeable. The embodiment of controlled chaos. Voyeuristic. Talkative. Spontaneous. Fidgety. Protective. Restless. Sarcastic. Tough. Cocky. Dangerous. Rowdy. Violent. Noisy. Impulsive. Vulgar. Aggressive. Pragmatic. Inquisitive. Can be cruel and debaucherous. Teasing. Eager. Can take on a mediator role between Waylon and Wyatt, or Wyatt and The Aid. Oddly, he reserves a gentler soft side (as gentle and soft as he can get, that is) for The Aid. Low-key psychotic and dominant (as are all Sullivans).

Vices: benzos (Xanax), cigs, coke (lines or rubs it on his gums, but refuses to smoke it because that's "crackwhore behavior"), shots of hard liquor (preferably Cîroc or Gray Goose vodka). Shooting things. Breaking shit. Throwing knives or darts. Going on a ride on his motorcycle. Dismembering anthrophages or cutting up an already dead cow at the slaughterhouse.

Voice: raucous, sarcastic, and neurotic. Has a thick New Jersey accent. Kinda raspy. Sounds animated and expressive with a wide range of tones, pitches, and speeds.

Smells like: burnt rubber and oil from doing donuts on his bike. Cigs, alcohol, leather, and too much cologne, probably something like Gucci Guilty, or GIORGIO ARMANI Acqua Di Gio.

Face claim(s): Adrian Brody.

Character inspiration: put all these guys in a blender, add ice, and shake it up, and you have yourself a Vinny smoothie—Vincent Vega (Pulp Fiction), Edward Blake/ The Comedian (Watchmen), Todd Alquist (Breaking Bad & El Camino), Mickey Milkovich (Shameless).

Other: Admittedly, my second favorite Sullivan.

Moodboard

[waltz-malice]

a little shinjiham thing i did, i like to hc that kotone was a bit of a trouble kid in grade school! also basically me wishing we could defend junpei in either route at that One scene behind the port island station </3 writing piece under the cut + ao3 crossposting (warning for in depth descriptions of violence)

Kotone had a feeling this wouldn’t go as any of them had planned. Sure, she trusted Yukari, and sure, she didn’t want to sit around and wait for clues to fall into their laps either — but this was a bit reckless, even for her. She didn’t want to drag Junpei into this, and she didn’t want Yukari to get hurt; she was sure she could handle herself, but that was a lot harder to do when there were others to look after, she’d learned.

But even so, here they were, standing in some alleyway in the backstreets of Tatsumi Port Island, and before Kotone could think of a plan or even warn Yukari, the girl was already charging headfirst into the fray.

Kotone really did like Yukari, she respected her and admired her strength without doubts — but she had to admit, this was a very, very poor decision of hers. She froze as she watched the other girl begin to antagonize the punk-ish looking boys, going as far as to call them trash. Yep, definitely didn’t think this through.

The dread only sunk deeper in Kotone’s stomach as the two boys began to encircle their group, and before she could even blink, the ‘head honcho’s’ fist had driven into Junpei’s gut.

In that moment, it was like time had stopped: she wouldn’t say she’s overprotective, because her reaction is only natural in this situation, really. She sees one of the few friends she has get hurt, and she loses it.

It’s like she’s seeing through tunnel vision, and without another word, she charges past Yukari to confront the guy that seemed oh so sure of his control over the situation — she would just have to shake that belief a little, wouldn’t she?

As he retracts his hand from the now doubled over Junpei, the guy spots Kotone approaching, giving a smug snort at her silent fury, not even knowing what kind of wrath he’d invoked.

“Got something to say, girlie—?”

And that’s just about all he manages to get out before her fist connects with his jaw, a resounding crack echoing through the alley, soon followed by the quiet gasps of the guy’s friend and the two girls that had been making snarky comments the entirety of the encounter. Still, Kotone didn't stop there, she knew there was a statement that had to be made here.

Fuck with her, or worse, her friends, and you get obliterated, simple as that.

Without skipping a beat, she kicks his knee to the point of his leg giving out, a strained yelp escaping his lips from the pain of the attack. She wants to go further, to stomp his brains into the pavement, but his friend has already grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her off of the scumbag as she gives a furious hiss.

She tears at his hand that refuses to let go, and she almost feels a bit of fear that the group of lameasses might get the upper hand, but by chance, someone else happens to step in as well.

A boy around her age with messy brown hair and a fierce scowl of his own yanks the second guy back and away from Kotone, and while she’s given the chance to recover, this newcomer uppercuts his opponent; she’s sure she saw a piece of a tooth fly out from the hit…

Kotone stares in slight awe for just a moment, and even if this newcomer looks a bit worse for wear, she had to admit she was impressed. Still, she couldn’t let her guard down too long, and she quickly turns just in time to see the first punk struggling back to his feet.

“You little bitch, do you even know who I am–?!” He hisses, wiping blood from the teeth-marked gash in his bottom lip as he manages to balance himself, and yet, his smart-ass comment only gives her enough time to act first once again. With a quick hook of her right foot, she sends him crashing down onto his back for a second time, and she follows up with a merciless kick to the gut that produces a satisfying groan from her opponent.

Kotone’s almost tempted to give him another kick, but she figures it’s best not to sink to his level in her mind’s eye — so with that, she spits onto the pavement beside his curled up body and finally clocks back into the world around her.

Yukari’s helped Junpei up off the ground, the first averting her eyes from Kotone, and the latter staring at her in a mix of fear and awe; on the other end, the mystery guy has rendered the other attacker unconscious with a bloody nose, and the vulture-like girls hanging by the scene just snicker under their breath before finally heading off, leaving their ‘friends’ in the dust. So far? She’d call the situation handled.

“W–Woah, Shiomi-chan! You made that guy eat dirt!” Junpei spoke up as Kotone took a second to pin her hair back up in its usual ponytail, a shaky laugh falling from his lips. “I mean, seriously, I didn’t know you had it in you!”

At that, Kotone just rolled her eyes, brushing off his praise with a shrug of her shoulders. “I guess you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover then, eh, Iori?”

“Especially not when you can’t even handle yourself in a place like this,” the guy with messy hair suddenly interjects, his tone harsh in comparison to her own, making Junpei flinch. “Seriously, what were you doing coming to a place like this when you can hardly hold your own, aside from this one over here?”

Kotone pouts a bit at the way he jabs his thumb dismissively in her direction, but before she can defend her friends, Yukari gives a defeated sigh.

“Look, I… yeah, I know that wasn’t the smartest approach, but we heard we could find out about Fuuka Yamagishi if we came here, and—!” She cuts herself off with another shake of her head, and now Kotone recognizes the look on Yukari’s face: guilt.

The guy just keeps glowering for a moment, and Kotone almost thinks he’s about to make another jab at them altogether, but then he proves her wrong. With a heavy exhale, he rubs the back of his neck, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“I’ve seen Yamagishi at the hospital; she’s well and fine, physically at least. You probably caught wind of some of the girls that like to hang around here from Gekkoukan… apparently they’ve been picking on her real bad and it caused her to take leave from school a bit,” He pauses, finally glancing back up with those perpetually tired eyes. “That good enough for you?”

The three students blink a few times, clearly surprised by the off-putting guy’s sudden straightforwardness, but Kotone had to admit, they’d gotten what they came for.

“Th–Thanks, yeah, that’s really helpful,” Yukari gives a slow nod, and she awkwardly turns, Junpei still supported on her shoulder. “We’ll get out of your hair then, thank you again…!”

Kotone almost follows after the two instinctively, but stops as she glances back at the stranger, an imaginary lightbulb going off over her head. “Oh, wait — how can we even properly say thank you without getting your name?”

She can practically feel Yukari and Junpei staring holes into the back of her head, silently begging her to not antagonize the scary-looking guy anymore, but just like she does when she sees the warning signs, she rushes right through anyway!

“Mine’s Kotone Shiomi, thanks a lot for helping out back there, we were in a real tricky situation!” Kotone introduces herself with her usual blindingly bright smile, almost as if she hadn’t just kicked a guy’s ass a couple minutes ago, and holds her hand out for him to shake.

She holds this same position for a couple more seconds as he scrutinizes her, before finally, he gives a low chuckle and a quick, firm handshake. “Tricky’s one way to put it — I’m Shinjiro Aragaki, and no need to thank me. Those two had it coming to ‘em.”

Kotone feels a rush of triumph at getting Shinjiro to crack a smile, even if it was a snarky one, but her mind instead feels the need to focus on the odd sense of deja vu she feels along with it. Why did she feel like she’s heard that name and dry laughter before?

It looks like Shinjiro’s blindsided by something similar, and the two share a puzzled look before with quiet ‘ahem’ from Yukari, they realize they’re still shaking hands. He quickly retracts his hand averts his gaze, and Kotone can only put hers back in her jacket pocket and snicker at the guilty expression on his face — like holding hands with a girl was illegal or something!

“Well, I’ll see you around then, Aragaki!” Kotone waves goodbye with her other hand, still smiling like always, though now her face feels a bit warmer as he gives a quick nod in return.

“Yep, seeya,” And with that, Shinjiro turns on his heel, quickly skulking back to the shadows from whence he came. As Kotone catches up with Yukari and Junpei, she doesn’t miss the roll of her eyes that the other girl gives her.

[deadly-espresso]

(OC: Twisted Batyr)

Yes, here's another Twisted that would probably be annoying as hell if it were real. At least his trinket sounds useful for escaping Twisteds if you're using a slow Toon like Rodger or Ginger. I would highly recommended having a distractor in your party if this guy were real.

So... this guy's shtick is that he's really, really thirsty... for Ichor, that is. If a Machine has been left only partially completed and Batyr isn't currently chasing anybody, he will wander to the location of that Machine, and if he reaches it, he will start drinking from that Machine until its completion is cut in half. The process sounds identical to a Machine being extracted, which can catch unaware players off guard. However, the process CAN be disrupted if you grab his attention while he's drinking from the machine. He also won't wander towards Machines that are occupied, so as long as he doesn't spot you, you will not be bothered. That said, Twisted Batyr's ability to sniff out Ichor means that his detection range is high (higher than Twisted Looey, but not as high as Twisted Pebble).

Design note: I ended up giving Twisted Batyr a highly bestial appearance (long, overgrown hair, prominent claws, lamprey-like teeth) because while normal Batyr is more based on the formal, upper-class image that European vampires have in the modern day, Twisted Batyr is more based on REALLY old-timey vampires. They tended to look more like walking corpses with their overgrown hair and nails (although they only had the appearance of such due to physical decay). The visible claws on Twisted Batyr's legs are also meant to bring to mind bird legs, as before the discovery of vampire bats, European vampires tended to be more associated with birds such as owls, and also some depictions of vampires really did sport bird feet. Overall, Twisted Batyr is meant to be overly feral-looking to contrast with his usual, formal self, even down to wearing no clothes and having no table manners.

Note about the Eye Charm: The Eye Charm affects any Twisted that has a distinct chasing state and can move. So, it won't have any effects on Twisteds like Twisted Rodger or Twisted Connie, but it WILL affect Twisted Pebble and Twisted Dandy.

Twisted Batyr's Research Description is as follows:

"One of the earliest victims of the Ichor Operation. Excess consumption of Ichor has turned this once friendly vampire into a gluttonous, feral beast. Not only can he sniff out Ichor from Toons, but he can also sniff out Ichor inside Machines. Twisted Batyr will wander over to any Machines left unoccupied, draining their contents and reducing your progress. Do not leave any Machine unfinished and unoccupied while he is on the hunt!"

[storytimeafterdark]

From the start, Breanna & Kristian were attracted to each other. He found out from a coworker that Bre was a new resident in the neighborhood, coming off a year that saw her lose her husband unexpectedly. Kristian was a young introverted security guard about to have his life changed for the good.

He introduced himself to Bre. She found his smile tantalizing and couldn’t stop looking at him. He found her very beautiful & didn’t want to stop looking at her. EVER. He couldn’t stop thinking about her either. She found herself thinking about him all the time.

They talked each time they saw each other & one night when she came home from a very long, draining day of work, he told her he had something for her, handing her a bouquet of flowers. She started crying & thanked him. “Thank you. This is so thoughtful of you Kristian. You are the sweetest man! Come by & see me on your rounds”. “I will…and you’re welcome Bre. I know you’re having a rough week. Don told me so I had to cheer you up”, he said with a smile. Don is his coworker, who has been encouraging him to go for Bre.

On his last rounds of the evening, Kristian stopped by Bre’s house. She was outside sitting in a chair on her driveway, enjoying the night air & listening to music through a Bluetooth speaker paired to her phone. She walked over to him, giving him a hug, wearing only a silk robe, her body smelling fresh from a shower & the scent of Japanese Cherry Blossom. Her teeth were freshly brushed. His arms went around her in return & he loved having her there. She invited him to come over when he was off work & he accepted. He finished his shift, then went to her place. She put on a tshirt & a pair of sweats to be comfy in.

That night, Kristian & Bre talked a lot & held hands. Before they knew it, it was 2 am. She walked him to his car & they held each other for a few minutes before he left. He drove home with a huge smile. She went to bed with a huge smile as well.

The next day, she went for a walk & took him an ice cold bottle of water. They were happy to see each other & talked for a few minutes. He asked her if he could see her after work again that night & she said yes. They also exchanged numbers & he sent her a text with a smile & a heart as she went on her way to finish her walk & she sent him the same reply back.

During one of his rounds, he went by her place & she was on her porch, reading a book. She looked up & blew him a kiss. He caught it & blew one back, which she caught & they smiled at each other.

He came over after work, this time she was wearing the silk robe she had been in when he brought her the flowers the evening before. She had taken a bath after dinner & just remained in the robe afterward.

They sat together on her loveseat, laughing and chatting about various topics. She got her wits about her & asked him if there was anyone special in his life. He put his hand on hers, & said, “There is now”, & flashed his tantalizing smile at her. She accepted his hand & said, “There is in my life now too”, & smiled back at him. “May I kiss you?”, he asked. “Please do”, she answered. Their kiss was the beginning of an amazing evening & their newfound relationship. Their tongues met a couple minutes into it & they couldn’t stop kissing, nor did they want to. “I want you Bre”, he said. “I want you too Kristian”, she said. He took off the silk robe, looking at her naked body before him. He massaged a breast, feeling a nipple between his fingers. Bre sighed, loving his touch. He began to kiss & lick the nipple. She enjoyed the sensations he was giving her.

She took off his shirt, checking out his upper body. She undid his khaki shorts, slid her hand in his boxers, feeling his erect cock, & drawing moans of pleasure from him. He undressed & she loved what she saw. He took her in his arms, onto his lap. He touched her pussy, which was wet with excitement, drawing moans from her. She told him how she liked to be touched & he slid his middle finger inside her. She had her hand around his cock, guiding him inside. She rode him & they came together in total ecstasy. He felt his cock drain inside her, loving the feeling. Her pussy drained all over his cock & they loved their intimacy.

They made love in her bed that night & he filled her again, this time even deeper. They kissed so passionately afterward. He held her in his arms as they drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, he made love to her again. afterward they showered together. She ordered breakfast for them via Door Dash & washed his uniform. They had breakfast, him bundled nude in one of her extra blankets. They made love while waiting on the laundry. She orally pleasured him & he returned the favor & once again, made love. They just couldn’t get enough of each other!

They showered & he bid her farewell once he was dressed. He’d stay with her again that night & more lovemaking would commence.

[angelwonie]

HEARTS ARE WON AT PRACTICE || jung jaehyun (teaser)

PAIRING: football player!jaehyun x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 0.7k in teaser, estimated 21k in full fic

RELEASE DATE: 4th of february

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, enemies to friends to lovers

SUMMARY: jung jaehyun is an obnoxious, way too handsome footballer whom you have no intention of getting to know. at least until a series of coincidences forces you to spend time with him, and you realize there might be more to him than what meets the eye.

WARNINGS: smut, more specific warnings tbd.

POSTED HERE.

You make it approximately ten steps before you hear his voice again, much closer than before. It’s soft, but deep – the kind of voice that makes girls fall to their knees – and unfortunately, also loud enough for your head to whip around instinctively. 

“Y/N, wait!” 

You stop walking and look at him. He’s still in his uniform, shirt clinging to his upper body and face glistening in sweat. The sun is high up in the sky, reflecting in his eyes as he looks at you, his uneven breath a sign that he’s been practicing for a long time. Not that it’s surprising – you’re certain that boy doesn’t have anything to his personality other than being a good football player. And being objectively handsome. His lips quirk up in a small smile when he sees you’ve halted your walk, but what catches your attention are his words. 

He said your name. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise since you’ve lived close to each other for many years, but you’ve never spoken to him, and he hasn’t so much as looked in your direction before. Now he’s looking, though. And as much as you hate to admit it, you can see where all of those fangirls are coming from. His eyes rest on you softly, like a cheek pressed against a fluffy pillow, but he’s nowhere near absent-minded, that much is obvious from the small hint of worry in his gaze. Whether that is worry for you or his reputation as the best player on the team, you're not sure. 

You hear his breathing even out, and it makes you realize you’re still standing without moving, waiting for him to say something. 

“Are you okay?” He finally asks, pushing his wet hair back in a way that looks much more attractive than it needs to. “I really didn’t mean for it to hit you.”

“Maybe you should work on your aiming skills, then,” You tell him, watching as his face contorts into an offended expression. He looks half-mad, half-confused, with his eyes blinking down on you and jaw clenched just slightly. It makes you wonder whether anyone has ever told him to work on his aim before. Probably not. “I’m fine, though.”

You begin walking again, leaving Jaehyun behind. No other sounds than the weak wind reach your ears, and you wonder if he’s going back to the football field. Not that you really care. You’re just curious. 

It only takes another five seconds for you to find out. 

“Are you sure?” Jaehyun’s shoulder brushes over yours as he catches up to you. Caught off guard, you jump a little, and his lips spread in a smile – a full one this time, teeth on display and eyes crinkling. It’s the same smile he wears when his team wins a game, you realize, before you can stop your thoughts from running. “That you’re fine, I mean. I kicked it pretty hard.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” You roll your eyes in annoyance. Is this guy waiting for some confirmation that yes, he did kick it hard, and yes, it did hurt? Wasn’t that much obvious from how you almost fell flat on your face in front of the whole football team? “I’m all right, so you can just go back and finish your game.”

“We finished it already,” He pushes his hair away from his face again – why is he even doing that if it just falls back either way? – and walks in front of you to block you from walking any further. You glare at him, but either he doesn’t notice, or he ignores it completely. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like a bruise is forming here.” 

And before you can even react, he leans down so his face is on level with yours and brings his thumb to lightly trace above your brow, where the football hit you earlier. It didn’t ache at all before, but now it tingles where he touches you, like your skin setting on fire. Except it doesn’t hurt, it’s just… different. And unexpected. Really unexpected. That’s what you blame everything on as you keep on standing, not flinching away from his touch though you have no idea why. 

“Does it hurt?” 

His voice brings you back to reality, and you blink up at him in surprise. “No.” 

Cringing internally at how meek your voice sounds, you shake your head and take a step back, that warm feeling fading away from your face the moment his skin isn’t on yours anymore. 

“No, I said I’m fine already.”

[twistedroseytoesy]

Savanaclaw monster AU

Up next on our list is an In-depth look and ramblings of the savanaclaw monster boys!

first off is the dorm leader himself, Leona! The great and lazy liontaur.

description: The upper half of his body looks like his normal self, not much is different other than his teeth. His teeth are larger and much more like a lion's with large sharp canines and pointed back teeth made for ripping into meat. The lower half of his body is that of a lion. His hips meld into the neck/made of the male lion's body. The great dark mane covering the taurs “neck”. The claws are sharp but always away and the tail injects cause it’s a hassle to brush at the odd angle Leona would have to be in order to brush it.

In his overblotted state, Leona grows an extra foot and a few drastic changes happen along with most things around him turning to sand. His lower paws become blackened with ink and his main is dripping with the stuff as well, his furry lower half which was once a nice golden yellow look to be like sand and even crumbles and repairs itself over the battle. his hands become inky claws and he lets out deafening roars many times over the battle to try and stun the gang fighting him.

fun fact: usually is found asleep on the floor due to being too long to sleep on a bench. Has to sleep on his front or back due to an awkward taur body. will not hesitate to sit his lower body on the mc to tease them.

Next is Ruggie. The interesting hyena boy. He is a crocotta, a mythical beast from India that was said to lure people away in the late evening by mimicking the sounds of people or hurt animals. Thought it very fitting for his UM to be parallel to the creature's abilities. mimicking others when in his beast form, and making others mimic him when in his normal form.

Description: In his regular form Ruggie looks almost the same as before, just with many spots along his skin, some looking like freckles like on his face, and others looking like strange birthmarks or moles. He has the spotted hyena look on his skin. His teeth are a bit more jagged and crooked due to growing up in a rough area and he has many faded scars along his arms and legs. He also has teardrop-shaped pupils in those dazzling blue eyes. in his beast form, he looks like a normal spotted hyena only way to really tell it's him is the dazzling blue eyes of the hyena. The hyena is larger than most, with especially large and adapt paws and claws. able to mimic any sound it has heard recently.

Fun fact: In both forms, He is fairly guarded. The best way to earn his trust is with food and patience. After a while, he might let you scratch behind his ears where he can't reach easily.

Jack is last here but definitely not least. The werewolf may look scary and intimidating but has a very sweet soft side. during full moons, his grey fur turns a brilliant white and he acts a bit more animalistic. sometimes running on all 4's and sniffing those around him subconsciously before shaking out of it and apologizing gruffly and running off.

description: Jack is still his intimidating self just a lot furrier. His arms legs and face are covered with grey fur. His teeth are more wolf/dog like and his eyes are sharp and bright like a wolfs due to some dark markings around his eyes absorbing light and allowing him to see more on bright days. his fingers end in sharp claws along with his feet. He usually doesn't wear shoes since his feet are tough and he likes the challenge at times. his tail is still the same though so it betrays his gruff exterior when he sees one of his friends. His beast form isn't very different from in-game, just a huge wolf, but in this form, he can talk as the wolf, or at least bark out sounds close to words.

fun fact: Jack on full Moon days prefers to just be in his wolf form since he then doesn't have to be as embarrassed about his instincts being elevated on those days.

[cerebrumrott]

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers and Newly Dateables x MC

Synopsis: Where their pact marks would be and how they would appear...

Lucifer

His mark would appear on your throat. Below the chin and Above the adams apple is where the sigil lies but the patterns and runes that circle it seem to trickle down your throat to your collar bones. Some even tracing up along the under side of your jaw.

You would know the mark appeared here because its his favorite part of you. He would often hide his face into your neck after a stressful day kissing along your jaw, and breathing in your scent.

It's also where his hand would most often lay, whether he be mindlessly tracing patterns into your skin, tipping your face up to his for a kiss, or holding you in place for him.

The mark is gorgeous and intricate. In direct light it appears to be a plain black though every so often it will catch the light just so to reveal the color beneath. A dazzling and heavenly blue.

When your pact mark appears he can barely keep his hands to himself. Most often when passing one another is RAD he will stop you just to take a moment to admire the mark before ushering you on your way smirking as he warns you not to be late.

Mammon

His mark will appear on the back of the neck where the skull meets the spine. Its a small and tight circle almost barely noticeable with it being faded into your hair line.

He is furious at first demanding to know why his mark is so small compared to the others and why its in such a hard to see place. He proceeds to pout to himself muttering about why it couldnt be somewhere obvious like your eyes or better yet in the middle of your forehead!

Once that was out of his system he began to truly appreciate the pact mark. He was the closest to your mind because he knew what you were really thinking sometimes without you even needing to say it. He often finds his hand coming to subconsciously rest on the back of your neck petting and massaging the mark as it also soothed him. Sometimes when he is thinking too hard he will start aggressively petting your head. It was funny the first time but the look your teacher gave you when Mammon accidentally started petting you in the middle of class was less so.

Whenever you wear hoodies or scarves he doesn't hesitate to walk up behind you and pull your hood down saying its disrespectful to cover up his pact mark and that you should be displaying it to the world. One time you shaved out a little triangle at the base of your hair line to fully expose the mark and with your hair tied up high. Mammon was just beaming with pride and joy following behind you like a love sick puppy just to stare at his mark.

Leviathan

When you made a pact with Levi you actually couldnt find it for weeks. You had cheeked every inch of your skin for a mark big or small but couldn't find anything.

That was until one day while hanging out with Levi you burnt the roof of your mouth so bad you thought the skin was peeling off. Levi worried used the flashlight on his phone to look in your mouth and let out of yelp of surprise at what he found. You also panicked thinking your mouth was now beyond saving from an all too hot bite of noodles.

No instead he had found where his pact mark lied. On the roof of your mouth was a relatively large and well detailed sigil and its surrounding runes. Interwoven between these runes were two serpents. The heads of each snake ending by your front canines the tails vanishing where your wisdom teeth should be.

It took you both weeks just to find the mark and even more so discussing why it would ever appear in such an odd place. It was one night during a TSL binge that it hit you. Levi hates touching but he loves talking with you. So of course his mark would have something to do with your mouth and since a mark can't be broken it couldnt go on your lips or near them.

At this Levi brings up the point of why not the tongue then? To that you counter its because he is a shut in and never sees the light of day. You had meant it as a joke but the dawning look on his face made you realize that is exactly why it was on the roof of your mouth.

When he kisses you he likes to drag his tongue over the mark the sensation sending sparks through his body.

Satan

His mark would appear on your outer thigh. This is where his hand would always fall when you both read together in the afternoons, or when you would sit at the table beside each other.

The mark itself is made up of sharp and bold lines that take up a majority of your leg reaching down to your knee and all the way up to your hip. The center of the mark is a deep forest green that fades away into a black. Similar to Lucifer's it too has a duo chrome effect where in certain lighting a vivid green can be seen glittering through the patterns and runes of the mark.

Satan will often find himself staring at you legs throughout the day envisioning the mark beneath connecting the two of you together. Many days he doesn't even attempt to hide his blatant stares as he longs to run his hands over the mark unhindered by cloth. Perhaps later when the two of you are back at home...

Asmodeus

His mark lies above your sternum and your heart. Asmodeus often jokes that it means you are hopelessly in love with him but the truth is that he is the one hopelessly in love. The many nights before you had made your pact where he would just dream of you. His love was not that of lust but of true and honest emotion the likes he had never felt before.

His mark is small, tightly packed in the space on the chest with the most minuscule and delicate details. The shapes and runes take on an appearance akin to that of a rose bush. Beautiful blossoms encased in a myriad of thorns protecting and guarding what lies beneath.

The thorns and vines interlaced with Asmodeus' pact mark when looked at from afar takes the shape of a heart matching the marks on his own skin.

Every time he sees the petals of his mark peeking out from a shirt of yours he can't help the way his heart fills and nearly weeps in happiness. While others may try to claim he is just oogling at your chest you both know its much more than that. Its much deeper than any of that.

Beelzebub

His pact mark is on your dominant hand. He had laughed at the time when it appeared saying it was because he couldn't think of anywhere else to place it but you both knew that demons don't choose where a pact forms. It appears in a place of significance to the both of them.

It took a week before you made the connections as to why it was your dominant hand that it appeared on. Everytime you took a drink or ate you would catch a glimpse of Beels large and chunky pact mark curling over the back of your hand and over your knuckles almost trickling down your fingers. You couldn't help but laugh almost choking on your food at the time as everyone at the table looked to you like you were mad.

Beel was all smiles as you told him about your discovery his cheeks flustered red as he too realized that was indeed a great reason as to why it might appear there. In all honesty he had been truly as clueless as you as to why it was your hand but now. Now it made perfect sense and he loved it so so much.

Beel loves his pact mark with you so much he will often just take your hand in his and press a soft kiss to your knuckles, or when he is feeling mischievous he will take your hand and drag a long lick up your arm before commenting on how delicious you are.

Belphegor

Belphegors mark forms on your non-dominant hand parallel to his twins. Though rather than drift down over the knuckles it instead crawls up the arm towards the elbow. Thin and curling lines make out the shapes of clouds that encircle the runes and sigil of his pact.

You both knew why his mark appeared here and it wasn't simply to mirror his twin much to Belphie's embarrassment. He always held your hand when he napped. It got to the point he couldnt sleep if you weren't holding his hand or petting his hair.

With your mark now on full display he doesn't even attempt to hide his need to hold your hand just walking up to you and taking it into his own even when not looking for a quick nap.

Long after you have gone to bed at night he will crack an eye open making sure you really are out for the night before carefully sitting up to take your hand into his and trace over the patterns there. You most likely would never notice but when his mark hit the moonlight just so. Brilliant white speckles like stars could be seen mixed among the markings.

Interlacing your fingers together Belphegor brings your knuckles to his lips falling asleep with your hand cradled to his face hoping to wake up still holding you.

Bonus:

Diavolo

His mark is the biggest out of all the demons. Shocker. The sigil and runes sit between your shoulder blades and the massive and intricate detailing the sprout outwards from that trails upwards and over yours shoulders and down your sides like a hug from behind. In the light it has a golden shimmer to it giving it a regal apperance.

If you have a pact with Barbatos it connects to his encircling your entire back and upper legs.

The mark appears where it does because that's where his hand is just drawn to rest on you. When he hugs you it presses there to draw you in closer, When guiding you around the castle he places it there when leading you through a door way and into another, even when just standing beside you his hand drifts to settle there.

When the pact mark appears it becomes his favorite place to kiss. Often walking up behind you and leaning down to press a quick kiss to the space regardless of the clothing in the way before smiling at you happily.

Barbatos

His mark appears on your lower back. The sigil and the runes themselves and small and concentrated into your lower back. Though the curling and spiraling patterns that extend outwards from it cover most of your lower back trailing up your spine. It even extends out and down the back of your thighs only stopping when it reaches the back of your knees.

The mark appears pure black to the naked eye but to those with magical capabilities it is a sparkling mixture of metallic blacks and sparkling blues.

If you have a pact with Diavolo the two pacts seem to blend together creating a dazzling shimmering affect of the gold and the blue/black.

He often takes the time just to appreciate the beauty of your pact mark. Asking in a soft voice before pushing up the back of your shirt to run a gloved hand carefully over the lines that trail along your spine and to your lower back.

When it is just the two of you he will place his hand on your lower back and rub small circles against the place where the mark lies reassuringly.

[beloyaltowhatmatters]

Sean's Bio

" Why don’ I try fittin' me boot up your nose you snotty old bitch. "

Sean was born in Ireland (presumably Donegal) and spent his early childhood there. Sean's father was Darragh MacGuire, an infamous Fenian outlaw who fled to America with Sean, before being hunted down and killed. The young Sean was sent to a reform school, but it did little for him.

Sean first met Dutch and Hosea at a bar somewhere in North Elizabeth. After seeing a fancy pocket watch that Dutch had, Sean followed the pair into the dark alleyway and threatened them at gunpoint. Much to Sean's surprise, both Dutch and Hosea simply laughed and dared Sean to shoot them, which he did. It turned out that the pair had spotted Sean first and silently taken the bullets out of Sean's gun. Instead of killing him, Dutch and Hosea decided to give Sean some food and inducted him into the Van der Linde gang.

MacGuire is said to be a cheerful man who enjoys spending his time telling stories at the gang's campfires, particularly about his family history. He loves being a part of the action, but he is relatively inexperienced and often overestimates his own abilities. At Clemens Point, he playfully tries to poke fun at Arthur, calling him 'English' and 'King Arthur'. He is perhaps the most talkative member of the gang, as Charles remarks that he speaks incessantly, and Arthur is mildly aggravated by his constant teasing at times. However, he is also somewhat lazy, literally falling asleep during guard duty multiple times, drawing the ire of Hosea.

Sean appears to have a positive relationship with Lenny, who once tried to teach Sean (who is illiterate) how to read. The two are often seen conversing, and Lenny tells Arthur at one point that he likes Sean. By contrast, Sean often expresses his dislike of Micah.

Sean has a generic, very much stereotypical Irish accent. Unlike Molly O'Shea, who has a distinct Dublin accent, MacGuire's is harder to pinpoint.

Sean has shoulder-length ginger hair, and green eyes and is slightly unshaven. He appears to be missing a few of his upper teeth. MacGuire usually wears a jacket of light bluish-grey color over a dirty white union suit and a red and brown patterned vest, accompanied by blue jeans and a green bowler hat. Unlike most members, this is the only clothing he wears, with only slight variations.

When Sean is rescued from Ike Skelding's Boys, he is shown wearing black jeans held up with suspenders, along with a grey shirt buttoned at the top with a black square shape on the front going from the shoulders to the chest, as well as black cuffs.

[deleteddewewted]

Hey comadre! I saw you asked for a fluff request, and I came to deliver 💜 I think you might be intrigued by the idea!

Shinsou who has been bullied his whole life, with the bullying growing harsher his middle school years. When he begins his high school life in UA, he remains distant, not allowing himself for others to get close to him, and for them to hurt him, because he has developed that trauma. He then successfully transfers over to the Hero Course, and his seat partner is the chubby/curvy girl of the class. She is friendly and welcoming towards him, but he remains to give her the cold shoulder, although he saw her intentions genuine, but he still keeps his guard up. She then goes and sits with him during lunch, her explaining that she understands why he gives off the cold shoulder to his peers. She explains she has underwent being bullied herself, by her weight and such. She tells him that as time passed, she learned to love and accept herself for who she is, and offers to help Shinsou in a similar manner. To help him learn to trust people and she asks if he puked accept her as a friend. He accepts and their friendship grows, with him starting to develop feelings for her, and wants to spend more time with the person who saved him from his own troubles 💗

My heart and soul needed this, thank you comadre!💜

(I may or may not have used some of my personal experience being body shamed in here so....yeah, thats your heads up.)

Misery and Company

Emo/Himbo Shinsou x F! Reader (Reverse Comfort)

TW: Mentions of bullying, Mentions of Body Shaming, Leading on

He remembered the constant laughter that was present in his life. Everyone would assumed it was a great childhood but to him, to someone like him, it was never the paradise that it was thought to be. The laughter was at him not with him. Kids pointed their fingers towards him and blamed him for all of the problems that would happen throughout the school day.

“I didn’t do it!” As a child, he didn’t know any better. He assumed that he could scream and yell like every other kid and be listened to. He found out quickly that he didn’t get that right. The teacher quickly told him off and called his parents. They came to pick him up from school and started to ask all kinds of questions. Did your quirk go off? Why did you do it? Is it that hard to listen? He didn’t bother to try to make connections after that. Friends were a waste of time. A liability. An opportunity to suffer unnecessarily.

When Shinsou reached middle school he suffered from the increase of villain comments. His quirk became the center of attention, it didn’t matter if he had good grades or was nice to people. His quirk was the focus, always was.

“You can get away with everything you want!” He’s heard that one about a million times already. It always managed to irritate him how much people cared about what he did with it. He hated the eyes. The voices. It only made his internal monologue become aggressive with himself. The constant reminder that he was less than the others for being born with a quirk that used people. It made him want to scream his head off.

“Yeah, I’m aware. Um, can we stop talking about it now?” He wasn’t a pushover but he knew that he could just say what he wanted. He purposefully asked a question to get the other student to stop talking without using his quirk. The last tithing he wanted was for someone to accuse him of using his quirk on them.

That night, Shinsou worked on his homework at his desk. His parents were away on a work trip so he had the entire house to himself. He looked at the time and groaned when he realized it was already one in the morning. He walked into his bathrooms and looked for his toothbrush. When he looked up at the mirror, ready to brush his teeth, he couldn’t help and stare at himself. His eyes held bags under them, dark and heavy as if he hadn’t slept in days. The faint smudging of the eyeliner he put on only making his eyes look even worse. He was tired and alone. His parents weren’t there to comfort him and with his quirk making it difficult to connect with others, he had no one to speak with other than himself. He dropped his hand down and just stared at his reflection. The image became hazy as he continued to stare back at it.

His face felt warm. He couldn’t stop the river that flowed down his face. He didn’t ask for his quirk, he also didn’t ask to be born. Shinsou couldn’t stop the rattling within his chest nor the stuttered gasps as he tried to breathe. He looked up at his reflection again, this time noticing the red and swollen eyes that belong to him. That night, Shinsou laid down to sleep on top of the covers and stared blindly at the uncovered window. He vowed to never become attached again. Not to classmates, not to family, and definitely not any possible friends.

Going to UA was a dream come true for him, the ability to be closer to your heroic dreams was closer than ever, but not for him. Shinsou had to watch as the heor course students acted like entitled brats, everyone in the school bowing to them like they were some great thing. He hated watching them boast, hated everything about them, to be honest. He wanted nothing to do with them, so why did they want something to do with him?

“Uh, sorry but I was wondering if you’d like to sign this petition?” Shinsou looked up from the book he was reading and stared straight towards the holder of the voice. It was a short chubby girl with a clipboard in her hands. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his answer to her question.

“No thanks.”

“It’s for a local shelter, it’ll help abused and abandoned pets find a good home-” Shinsou wanted to be left alone. He sighed out loud and closed his book while rubbing his eyes, the eyeliner smudging.

“I said no. Now leave me alone.” Shinsou watched as the girl flinched at his annoyed voice.

“S-sorry, I’ll just leave you alone.” She quickly walked away from him, nearly entering a jog as she left him behind. Shinsou couldn’t help but become disappointed with himself. The girl was being nice to him and he snapped at her. She wasn’t even benign annoying, he just felt tired. He could hear how some people around him mumbled about the exchange he packed his things up and left towards his class.

He did see the girl again from time to time. He found out she was in the hero course and that she was in the A class as well. He would spot her on occasion but he did interact with her during his hero course admissions test. She wore her hero costume with pride and honestly, he had to look away for a moment, she looked like power itself. He couldn’t help feel intimidated in her presence. She didn’t come up to him yet so he had to come up to her. He intended on apologizing for his behavior a few months back, he didn’t mean to snap at her and he never found the opportunity to do so.

You watched as the indigo-haired boy awkwardly made his way towards your group. He wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes but instead focused on the floor below him.

“Hi, I’m Shinsou Hitoshi.” He extended his hand out to you but you just stared at him like he grew a second head. He felt awkward again, he was expecting you to at least call him a dick but the silence made his stomach become tight.

“Nice to meet you Shinsou, I’m L/n Y/n.” You felt bad for being quiet for too long, you couldn’t help it. He was really pretty to look at especially since he wore eyeliner that sharpened the appearance of his eyes.

“Oh, uh yeah. I um, wanted to apologize for my attitude a while back. It was rude of me and uhh, I know that saying I was in a mood isn’t a good excuse but-”

“It’s fine, I get it. I can be annoying so it’s ok.” You gave him a bright smile and a clap on the back of his shoulder.

He tensed when he felt the heat of your hand on him, he couldn’t help but lean slightly into it. His ears reddened and not wanting to embarrass himself more than he did already, he quickly pulled his mask up to cover his ears and face.

“No- yeah- I mean no, you- you weren’t annoying, I was just in a mood and it accidentally let it out on you. Sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you briefly. You just smiled at him again and got closer to his person.

“Hey, do you mind if i-” You grabbed the bottom part of his mask and pulled it down slightly, your face closer than ever before to his own. He stopped breathing as you got closer, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about his breath. He smelled like coffee and for some reason, it made him feel embarrassed if you were to found out about his dependency of it.

You reached out with your pinky and brushed some of the black flakes of his eyeliner away from his upper cheek. You blended the smudged eyeliner on the bottom of his eye out and pulled his mask up again to cover his face.

“There! Just wanted to clean up your makeup. It’s really well done, by the way, wish I could do my own eyeliner as clean as your own. Do you wear eyeshadow on the bottom lid or is it just eyeliner with you?” You weren’t mocking him for his dressing and styling choices, many of his old classmates did.

He told you about what products he uses and yes, he did use eyeshadow for his bottom lid. You just smiled at him and occasionally added what you used. He enjoyed talking to you, you were nice to him and allowed him to speak his mind. He couldn’t help but want to know more about you. Unfortunately, your conversation had to come to an end since his group was the first one up, but you both agreed to talk after all matches were over.

His second year at UA was better but he still felt awkward around everyone. Everyone, discluding Bakugou, was nice to him. You especially made it your duty to be around him all the time. He enjoyed your company but he found himself still pushing away from him at times. The constant lingering feeling of possible betrayal being prominent in all of your interactions. It didn’t matter how many times you helped him do his makeup or how many times he did your own, didn’t matter if he showed you his favorite video games to play, nor if he introduced you to his parents and had you in his room playing those same games with him for hours. He was still nervous, paranoid that you’ll stab him in the back. Scared that you’ll turn around and show your true colors. That you’ll take everything you know about him and tell everyone so you could all mock him again.

Shinsou, due to his fears, started to pull away from you. No more hanging out with him, no more doing each other’s makeup, no more eating lunch together. Shinsou ignored you every time you tried to speak with him, always turning himself away from you or being rude in some manner. It did discourage you at times, made you feel like you were back in middle school with the cute guys in your grade only speaking with you to make fun of your interests afterward. You thought that maybe he was going to be different but you guessed not. You kept away from him as you processed the situation but that also gave you the chance to watch him. You noticed that instead of sitting with your guy’s other classmates he would op to sit on his own within the cafeteria at a faraway table or somewhere else. You noticed that he not only avoided you but the rest of your classmates. He was back to how he was in his first year.

You couldn’t keep watching him be alone again, you didn’t want to leave him alone. You made up your mind and made your way towards Shinsou. He was sitting outside of the cafeteria eating his lunch while reading a book that was placed on his lap. He looked tense as he continued to read and nervous at any sound that made itself known. You felt bad for him, from what he told you about his own school experience, more of the lack of, you assumed that he was bullied for his quirk. He never used it on you and he never spoke much about it. He never gave you any details and never told you how his quirk activities, he just avoided the conversation entirely but he was always excited to listen to your own though.

“Shinsou.” You watched as the male jumped in his spot on the floor and direct himself towards you.

“Shinsou, can we talk for a bit?” He averted his eyes and began to pick his things from the floor, shaking his head as he did.

“N-no, sorry. I have to go-” You got in his way and crouched down to meet him at eye level.

“I know you have nowhere to be at. Please, talk to me for a bit.” You placed your hand on his own and stared at him. Shinsou didn’t want to meet your eyes. He didn’t want to see the disgust in them or the hatred you felt for him.

What he didn’t expect was for you to place your hand on his cheek and gently guide his gaze to your own. His eyes were wide and watery, he didn’t understand why you were being so gentle, so kind with him. Didn’t you want to be angry with him? Your own eyes were soft, a small smile present on your face.

“Shinsou, what’s wrong?” Your voice was gentle and your touch never leaving him. He took in a breath and spilled everything and all of his troubles to you. Once he finished, he was welcomed by a hug.

You pulled him into your own body and shared your warmth with him. You gently brushed his wild hair as you allowed him to cry to his heart’s content. He needed someone to listen to him, someone who would just let him talk. You were that person for him. Once he felt better, he pulled away from your person and rubbed his eyes. His eyeliner was running and smudging severely on his face. He pouted slightly at his destroyed makeup but then looked at your uniform. You had black smears all over your jacket and shirt.

“I-i’m sorry L/n. I didn’t mean to ruin your uniform.” You just chuckled and shook your head at him.

“It’s fine Shinsou, you needed to let it all out.” He began to take deeper breaths and eventually sat next to you. His head gently laying on top of your own.

“It… it was frustrating you know? I thought that I was the problem and I still feel like I am at times.”

“I get what you mean, I also had to deal with bullies.” Shinsou lifted his head and looked at you confused. You had to deal with bullies? Why? You were nice to everyone, why would anyone want to hurt you?

“I think it’s obvious as to why Shinsou.” Shit, did he say that out loud?

“Yes, you did.” You gave him another smile and took his hand. You compared him to your own. Your hand was smaller than his own but it was rounder, chubbier, just like the rest of you. You found it adorable how different the both of you were.

“I’m overweight, man. People tend to hold a preconceived idea of what overweight people are like.” Shinsou still couldn’t understand.

“So?  Why would anyone bully you for something you don’t have all that much control over?”

“Because they’re mean. It’s a power trip for them.” You began to play with his fingers, taking note of the muscles that you weren’t aware existed within them.

“I used to have a crush on this guy and for the longest time, my classmates made fun of me because of it. They always said that I was too fat for him or that id hurt him if I leaned onto him. Typical mean comments about my appearance and how I was unloved.” Shinsou began to frown and got closer to you. His body heat becoming a welcoming presence to you as you recounted your own struggles.

“Then one day he asked me to hang out with him. We ate lunch together and we spent time together. I thought he was interested in me just like I was interested in him. He once got close to my face and made it look like he was about to kiss me before reaching for something behind me. We laughed it off as an accident but I noticed the small blush on his face. I was excited.” You pressed on each of his fingernails and wiggled his fingers in between your pointer and thumb.

“I thought that this was it, he liked me back. Our school dance came and everyone was asking out their dates for it. I thought he was going to ask me to go with him but that didn’t happen. He pulled me towards him in the middle of class with everyone watching us, a lot of the other girls were jealous of me because of it.” You noticed the chipped nails polished on his nails and began to scratch it off.

“He cupped my face and pulled me closer to him. We were going to kiss.” You stopped playing with Shinsous hand. Your hand falling onto the ground limply.

“He gripped my face and pushed me away saying “Did you really think id like you? You’re such a joke L/n.” ” You pulled away from Shinsou, your hand rested on your lap instead of anywhere near his.

“I felt so alone, so gross, so….fat. It hurt but it was made worse because it was in front of everyone. Everyone saw how he treated me and made fun of me. No one did anything, not even as I ran away crying. Instead, I got comments about my weight. I got called some really mean names that day and the following. I didn’t go to my school’s dance, I didn’t want to be made fun of again.” You didn’t hear a thing from Shinsou. He just sat there looking at you like you were crazy.

“Their assholes.”

“I know.” You looked at him and smiled. He came closer to you, grabbing your hand from your lap and interlacing them in one another.

“But I don’t feel like that anymore. I don’t care is a better way to phrase it. People can have their opinions, either nice or mean. I can’t dictate that.” Shinsou scooted closer to you as you continued talking.

“But I can dictate the way I think about myself and the people I want to be around me.” Shinsou couldn’t help himself anymore.

He leaned in towards you and placed his hand on your cheek. His lips gently pressing onto your own and unmoving. You felt your heart fluttered but it quickly turned to amusement. He just pressed his lips to yours and wasn’t moving, He wasn’t moving. He had his eyes closed and pressed into you, it was beginning to bruise your lips. You pulled back slightly and looked at his face. He had his lips still puckered and his eyes closed. You giggled and quickly kissed him again before he pulled away. You on the other hand did move and deepened the kiss.

Shinsous heart soured as you kissed him back, his lips no longer hurting but feeling gently caressed by your own. He couldn’t help the small gasps that escape him nor the way he pulled you closer to him. When the two of you parted, Shinsou looked at you with sleepy eyes. He wanted this and he wanted more.

“I like you L/n.”

“I like you too Shinsou.”

[checkmatein3moves]

19, incandescent, bc that feels like that’s just oracle island in a nutshell

“Soon,” whispers Violeta, jostling you with all the impudent verve of a drunken mother. 

“I know,” you murmur, though it’s impossible not to be excited tonight. For hours now the lights have been dimming, and the hall is so dark that people are using their phone flashlights whenever they need to locate a corridor they want to disappear into.

“Go and find your friends,” she chides, rubbing your upper arm. “I have to meet Benz.”

You turn your head after her as she retreats, making for the heavily-guarded backrooms that lead to the performance balcony. The guards step aside without question, watch her stare down the biometric scanner, then two of them peel off from the group to escort her as she enters the private hallway. 

Normally you’d have found Hebe by now, but a serious issue with the dress she was supposed to wear has made her late. You open your conversation with her — her last message consisted of only crying faces and devil faces.

You: nearly here?? 

Hebe: Yes, pleaseeee tell me I haven’t missed anything

You: not yet, but it won’t be long. parents are getting in position 

Hebe: NOOOOOO

Hebe: Going to beg this driver to step on it wish me luck 

You: good luck. and also good luck getting here in one piece

She sends a thumbs up and you put your phone away, then squint in the darkness as your eyes readjust. Over there — his features are too gloom-doused to make out, but that neon flashing bowtie has to be Windo. The red-pink-orange periodically illuminates Temple Windham’s face as they lean over to talk to him, lips pursed in a disgruntled expression. The Windham heir is always kind and accommodating, but they blatantly don’t understand Windo’s sartorial tastes even now. 

You make to join them, but you barely make it past two bodies before you hear a loud gasp and feel a frantic tapping on your shoulder. A quick glance down at those diamond bedazzled talons tells you everything you need to know. 

“It’s you!” exclaims Laurel Travers, a grin on posie-pink lips as you crane your neck to see her. In the clear heels she’s chosen, she might just touch seven foot. “Where’s my pretty sister? Not late, surely? The only reason I ever want to hear about why Hebe’s late to the moon awakening is that she’s planning to fall through the skylight herself.”

“Her dress ‘just wasn’t doing the same job’ as when she got it fitted, apparently. She was forced to find a last minute solution.” Almost subconsciously, you take a step back, feeling like she’ll soon be stepping on your toes if you don’t. “She’s on her way.”

“Well, it won’t do if she misses midnight. A Hale should always be as front and center as possible at any event, and she’s the only one that seems to take that seriously. I always tried telling that to Ten when we were kids, but of course he’s never cared.” She rolls her eyes, the smile on her face ophidian. 

Her face is the last thing you see before the ballroom plunges into pitch darkness and Benz Hale calls for silence. Laurel tuts, tongue hitting her teeth wetly — you don’t envy Hebe the press release tomorrow when she’s criticised for being the only heir late to the —

Someone swears behind you, then another person hisses in pain. Slapdash, insincere apologies follow a trail of destruction and then Hebe reaches you, sticking her face shamelessly right in yours. 

“Oh, good. It is you,” she whispers. “That could’ve been cringeworthy.” 

“I’d better see you wearing the most beautiful outfit Oracle has ever witnessed when the lights come on,” Laurel says haughtily.

Hebe snorts. “Hello to you too, Lucifer.” 

Any more conversation is cut off as Benz finally speaks again. “Only now that we have captured everyone’s attention can the most symbolic evening of the year commence,” he calls, his voice carrying with all the imperiousness of Oracle’s King. “On the first full moon of every fall do we facilitate its reintroduction to our honoured Glass Ballroom, right in the heart of our heart.” 

Violeta speaks next, with a concerted — and commendable — effort to keep her voice from slurring. “Once the shutters are retracted, there they will remain for the rest of the year, the cold seasons gifting us the beauty of the night sky through the most breathtaking lens in the country.” 

The ceremonial half really can’t last much longer than that lest people get rowdy with anticipation in the dark, and thus the countdown to midnight starts with haste. The closer you get to the hour, the more you can hear; glasses being smashed on the floor, hysterical screams, bodies bumping into each other all around you. 

And then, with a mechanical click befitting a clockwork giant, you are gradually bathed in moonlight. 

No matter how many times you see the moon’s awakening, it never fails to demand your awe. You hear no cheers as the first streaks of light begin to trickle like rain into the ballroom, everyone as transfixed as you. Every figure becomes gloriously awash, pearls and diamonds and eyes and teeth all set to twinkling like you’re part of the galaxy itself, every shadow being politely ushered out as the moon does her earthly duty. 

It’s like being cleansed by a holy fire; the darkness almost burns before you, the weight of it lifting from your eyes so delicious you daren’t blink. You glance to Laurel at your right, glittering in blue and silver like some deity of the sea, then Hebe at your left, bright red dress absorbing the light as though it obeys her. 

Then, after either minutes or hours, the great wave ceases and recedes into the familiar dapple-pattern of the Glass Ballroom, undulating as it plays between the harlequin glass of the roof. 

The room goes from silence to raucousness all at once. The moon is awake, and so are her elite. 

[inertflouride]

Chain my heart

Prompt: Jake and MC dated in the past but somehow, between love and responsibility, Jake chose his responsibility, leaving his love to bleed behind. It's been 2 months since that and MC's blood still churns to avenge her broken heart. What she doesn't know is things are way more complicated than they appear.

Warning: Violence, Weapons, Angst?, Cuss words.

"Lemme give you a little advice. Never wear a backless red dress for action", I mumble to Dan who is aiming his sniper from the roof of a five storey building.

"That's why I got you a backless red dress with a slit", he replies back in a low tone, emphasising on the word slit.

I push part of my dress back, revealing all of my bare thigh and strap a gun holster around my upper thigh. "Yeah, the ONLY good part about it", I say as I slip a pistol in the holster.

"Boo, stop complaining about petty things", he relaxes his posture and looks back at me, leaning his head on his arm. I roll my eyes at him and push back my dress over my thigh, my lower leg still revealing.

"Sure. Now when will you stop sniping like a pussy and charge in with me?", I ask in exasperation from waiting in the chilly air in tiny ass clothes. "Though I hate you for making me wear this. Why can't I wear my usual assassin outfit?", I whine and irritatedly move my dress back and forth.

"I not only want those perverted men distracted, but also you concealed in the filthy rich crowd. Plus hackerman would recognise your badass aura", he says as he shuffles his bag for an energy drink.

"Come on Dan, he has a name", I groan at his habit of coming up with new names.

"One I don't give a fuck about AND one who shouldn't either", he scoffs back at me, "Aha, found it", and opens the can with his teeth.

That stung hard but hell with admitting that. "All things apart, I must say though, Jack Daniels without a beard is a tragedy", I quip back at him, masking the sudden grief I felt.

"Yeah yeah. Insult me all you want but if you let hackerman slip today, I'll strangle you myself with my bare hands", he nonchalantly replies back, chugging at the red bull. I look away from him, moving towards the terrace. Chilled Chicago air slaps my face, reminding me of how I was shattered, cheated, used and thrown away. And how I'm again feeling weak for that wretched man.

Who ruined me. Who broke me. Who made me beg for him to stay.

And I'm here again feeling bad for that man? I must be a fool. A dumb fucking fool.

But no more. I'll have him by his balls. Be it dead or alive.

"Okay little one, now's your time. The show's starting", Dan alerts me, snapping me out of my little self reflection.

"Hmm, okay. Right. I'll get going now", I tell that to myself more than him and take a quick breathe in as I feel my feet falter. Dan gets up and jerks me by my shoulder.

"Listen MC. I'm gonna be there in a few myself. Do not panic, do not give yourself away. If you feel suffocated, just merge in the crowd and give yourself time. Most importantly, if you manage to put your finger on hackerman, maintain your distance and observe. He'll recognise you the moment you speak or even look at him", Dan gives me a run through of the situation and presses my shoulder.

"Yeah right. Thanks again, Dan", I quickly add in before starting my mission. As I move towards the elevator, I hear Dan deeply sigh and crush the can he was drinking in anger. He knows what happened the last time Jake... he and I met. Dan was the one who helped me stick together the pieces of my shattered self, pushed me to move on and now is helping me with this.

If not for myself, then for Dan, I have to do this. I need to.

I rush towards the flashy building where the gathering has assembled, wearing my heels before exiting the five storey building I was previously in. The moment I see the door in front of me, I start walking elegantly, allowing my hips to sway from side to side.

"Your invitation, Miss?", the guard in front of me asks. I pull out the VIP token which Dan gave me, and flash it at the guard who quickly stiffens and bows as I make my way through.

The open doors reveal a giant gathering of powerful men and their wives. A few powerful women and their escorts too. I roam my gaze over everyone, spotting the infamous mafia who was arrested for adultery a few months back. But that's not who I am here for, I'm here for...

"Looking for somebody?", a voice breathes in my ear and I jerk my neck around, turning back at the source. But there's nobody there. Strange.

I grab a champagne from the waiter passing by me, and I gulp down the drink in my glass in one go and ask for another. The fuck is with me already hallucinating about him?

"Are you sure you can handle it?", a guy standing behind me asks. I look at him, my gaze going over him. Another rich aristocrat. Or a mafia's son? I don't know. He's wearing a crisp white shirt and black pants, one of his ear studded and hair reaching his neck. "Please excuse my rudeness, I'm Rygel", he extends his hand towards me in a handshake, which of course I return.

"I'm MC. Hello", I awkwardly babble at him. I'm not here for this, how should I tell him that. I do not have time for this!

"You seem a bit lost", he tips his chin and asks me, crooking one of his brows at me.

"Oh no no. Nothing like that", Fuck MC, compose yourself! I find a couple of people dancing towards the side. "Would you like to dance?", I ask, trying to divert his attention from me. A few moves won't hurt right? Plus it would keep me concealed from...

"I hope that isn't the alcohol speaking", pretty face tries to be quirky. Nah, I hope I don't throw up, especially on him.

"Oh haha, you're so funny", I reply back, sarcasm dripping from my sentence and lightly hit his arm in humour. He takes my hand and we move towards the dancing crowd.

"It's a mixer happening", Rygel tells me as he looks at the crowd, sounding disappointed.

"What's that?"

"Ah it's just normal dance with people switching their partners from time to time. C'mon now, the song just ended", he explains and then pulls me with him to the crowd. What did I get stuck into! Also where the fuck is Dan?

The song starts playing and so does everybody's dance. I can't help but think, what is the point of all of this? Yeah right. Rich people having too much time and money on their hands. Pfft.

Amidst my zoning out, I'm suddenly pushed forward by him towards the next person in turn but since it was so sudden, I find myself stumbling as I'm thrown forward.

"Woah, careful. Are you okay?", a familiar voice asks me, concern reflecting in his tone. I don't dare look up at him for he's going to recognise me. The place where his hands are, trying to break my fall, burn with excruciating pain.

Suddenly the champagne tower collapses down, diverting his attention from me. I quickly scram from his embrace and rush towards a less denser area, holding my holstered gun through my dress. Abruptly I'm pulled into a corner harshly via my arm and held against the wall. Out of instinct my voice moves ahead to scream but a hand is put on my mouth and Dan hushes me. My gawking eyes seem to return to normal when I take him in, deeply breathing to tone down from the sudden panic.

"What the fuck, Dan?", I whisper at me angrily, pushing him away from me, "You gave me a fucking shocker of my life!"

"What the fuck me? What the fuck were you doing? How did you land up exactly in that asshole's arms after I specifically asked you not to?!", he whispers back at me, more like a 'whisper shout'. "Thank fuck I arrived when I did and saved your sorry ass or I wouldn't know where would you have been by now. Probably on his bike into the unicorn world", he scoffs at me and gets out, revealing himself with his rifle in hand.

I rush towards him, not to stop him though. Screams fill the place by the people who notice the rifle and start calling for their bodyguards. But Dan already killed them. Aw, sad.

Dan hangs his rifle on his back and runs towards Jake, jumping on him from behind. The element of surprise takes Jake out, who then struggles to push Dan from above him. Dan starts landing punches on Jake's face after which I ask him to stop. He gets up and lets me take charge of the situation.

I offer a hand to Jake to try to help him stand. I snicker as I think about Dan's pissed off thoughts going like, "What the fuck, MC?" "Why this?". I pull Jake up who stumbles a bit, swaying a bit from side to side just from a few hard blows and look at him for a second. Man, how did we reach to this? I really wish we hadn't but no point doing that.

I push my dress behind, revealing my holster and take the pistol out, aiming it at Jake's forehead. "Any last wishes?", I dramatise the whole scene which keeps me from letting tears fall from my eyes.

"Yes. Just a second", I look at him bewildered when suddenly one half of the building blasts off, making me crouch down low. I scream from the suddenness of it when the pistol in my hand is kicked off and I'm being pulled away via my arm.

"Oh hell the fuck no. I'm not coming with you", I shout at being pulled away by Jake, trying to free my wrist, "Let me go, you bastard." But he still doesn't quit and lifts me up. "No no no, put me down. I can't be with you Jake, not anymore", I sob as I throw punches on his back to somehow get him to put me down but no, he stays stoic as hell and keeps going.

"MC, where are you?!", I hear Dan shout as he tries to find me in the chaos.

"Answer him and he dies", Jake cooly tells me and drags me out of the building. I see ambulances lined up outside through my tear blurred eyes and throw a few more punches on his back.

"I fucking hate you Jake! I fucking hate the very existence of you", I spit back at him from the disgust of again ending up with him.

"I know, doll. Now shut the fuck up", he tells me and opens his car's boot space and throw me in there. "Now if you want your hands or limbs to come in between the door, by all means, resist." He crooks one of his brows at me pausing briefly for any reaction from me before slamming the door shut.

Now reader, you must wondering that why didn't I resist. Well, I have a few... tools of me, one which can use to open this door. So why resist and waste my precious energy on putting on a show when I can easily escape out.

So, I lay calmly in here since I don't wanna pass out from less oxygen in here, waiting patiently for Jake to start the car.

To be continued...

(I had this draft from a few months. I just felt like posting it. Lemme know how you like it)

[randomshyperson]

hey I love your writings so so much. May I request an AU where Wanda and reader are undercover on a mission and have to pretend they are dating for some reason? 👉👈 I just love those cheesy cliches so much hahaha but only if you like the idea really. Have a beautifull day! ❤️

Hello Sweetie, how are you? I hope well. So you said “AU” and i kind interpreted it as secret agents then, other then Avengers super hero. I hope you like this, is heavily inspired by Hitman videogames.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader -  Undercover Feelings.

Words:  2.907k (short one) // Read on AO3 too.

Warnings: None ;)

You are in Italy. Right now in a very compromising position.

You can see the sea many meters below you as you are sneaking along the edge of a mountain. And then your communicator is ringing, and you let out a sigh, trying not to fall over as you press the device to your ear.

- Yes? - You sneer, dragging yourself along the wall.

- Where the hell are you? - asked Wanda sounding annoyed. - Our target is here.

- I'm a little busy here, honey. - You grumble, stopping your pacing only to wipe the wetness from your hands, not wanting to slip. 

- Hurry up. - She asks, and from her low tone you imagine that she is trying to hide that she is talking to you. - I'm in the main square.

And then she hangs up and lets out an impatient sigh. Your job sucks sometimes. 

You and Wanda were assigned to recover important information from a mafia figurehead, who was to spend his vacation on an island in Italy. The problem was being able to infiltrate the place. You had the bright idea to install a hacking device in the security system of the house, the problem was that it was fusing the rock of the mountain where the house was located. Wanda would not approve of you hanging twenty feet out to sea, but it was your job after all. 

Fortunately, you were able to install the device into the Mansion's system. And now you would be able to find the place where the information was stored. After checking if your watch was receiving the correct signals from the device, you made your way back up the mountain as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave Wanda alone.

The island of Sapienza was small, so it didn't take long for you to locate Wanda sitting in the square, a summer dress leaving her legs exposed. You tried not to stare too hard. It was not an opportune moment to deal with your buried feelings.

Assuming a friendly pose, and straightening the summer shirt you were wearing, you walked over to her with a smile, also noticing the man sitting next to her, who was apparently your target, Johann Schmidt.

- Hello. - You greeted cheerfully. Wanda smiled and stood up.

- Honey, there you are! - she said excitedly, hurrying to stand beside you as she held your hand. When she kissed your cheek, she whispered "Play along". And you ignored the beating of your heart to force a smile as you looked at Johann. - I have just met Dr. Schmidt.

The man looks at you curiously, rising to his feet. You offer your hand to him.

- It is a pleasure to have you in Sapienza. - He says with a smile as he shakes your hand.

You nod in agreement.

- I must return to my duties now, Mrs. Maximoff, but I appreciate the conversation we had. - He then says, you think you are imagining that Wanda's grip on your hand has increased. - It was very enlightening.

As he leaves, Wanda lets out a loud sigh of relief. She lets go of your hand and turns to you.

- Where have you been?" she asks through gritted teeth, and you look at her quizzically.

- "Honey"? - You quip ironically, wanting to know more about the disguise. Wanda rolls her eyes, but you notice the redness in her cheeks. - I had to find a way to find out where the data was. - You tell her, sitting down at the table she was at. Wanda sits down next to you. And then you hold out your arm to her, looking around. You notice the guards watching at various points in the square, and you look at her tenderly. - Pretend that you are stroking my hand.

Wanda frowns, but obeys. You enjoy the feeling of your fingers together, but say nothing. Then you hold out your other hand, activating the clock to let her see the information you have acquired.

She reads it for a moment, then looks at you.

- The data is in the downstairs room, so we will need to infiltrate the mansion.

You nod slightly, careful to appear entertained on a romantic date, as you notice the security guards in the square. And then you really are looking at Wanda, her bright green eyes, and you feel a chill in your stomach.

- What exactly is our cover? - You ask with a smile, and Wanda blushes, averting her eyes and stopping stroking your hand momentarily, surprised by the question.

- I told Schmidt that we were engaged - she says, and you smirk. - Stop that face, that's the first thing I thought of!

- Why not sisters? Or friends? - You playfully tease, and Wanda lets out a grumble.

- Damn it, shut up. - She says but she is also smiling. - This is a romantic city, okay? It makes sense.

- Yes, yes. - You joke, and Wanda pinches your skin lightly making you laugh. 

You straighten your posture slightly, your free hand that was on the table moving across the iron, until it reaches Wanda's arm, gently moving up her skin with a caress. You brought your hand up to her face, taking a strand of hair from her eyes to put behind her ear.

- How do we get into the house? - You whisper to her, looking at her intensely as you play with strands of her hair. To anyone watching from afar, you would seem very much in love.

- That's why our disguise is good. - She comments with a smile. - There is a ball at the Mansion tomorrow night. Limited access to the upper floors of course, but I'm sure we can work around that.

You smile at her, thinking about the strategy. And then the restaurant waiter approaches the table, and you move away.

You eat lunch in comfortable silence after that, and as you get up and walk toward the small apartment you have been given for the mission, Wanda entwines her hand in yours, and you want to ignore that it is just for cover.

//-//

Wanda leaves the apartment in the evening, shortly after you have finished going over the plan. And she comes back only two hours later, with a mischievous smile and bags in her hands, and you look at her curiously while sitting on your bed.

- What's that? - you ask, and she just hums, putting the bags on the bed.

- Something you're going to hate. - She comments with a smile. And then she is pulling a long dress out of one of the bags. - This is your outfit.

- No. 

- Yes.

You let out an unhappy sigh.  And you stand up when Wanda waves for you to come closer. She holds the dress in front of your body, biting a smile across her lip in excitement.

- Why can't I wear pants? - You grumble as Wanda lowers the dress onto the bed.

- It's a gala party, darling. - she says. - You'd draw too much attention being a girl in a suit.

- That's not fair. - You retort.

- You know how these Nazis are, and their gender rules. - She says, and you shrug. And then Wanda smiles, turning to the other bag, and you throw yourself back on your bed.

 - Don't be so grumpy, at least you'll be able to carry a gun.

You look at her with confusion, and she giggles. She walks over to the dresser, and pulls out two holsters. She tosses one into your lap. - Wear it on your leg, below the thigh. They don't search this area. 

You nod in agreement, leaving the holster on the bedside table. And then you lie back on the bed, while Wanda puts your clothes away. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep after that.

//-//

You were staring. And honestly, it wasn't your fault. Wanda looked absolutely stunning in her party dress. And you felt your brain short-circuit when she left the room wearing it. You cleared your throat, and tried not to embarrass yourself so much when you said she looked beautiful. And Wanda just smiled and entwined your arms together.

Now you stand at the entrance of the mansion, mentally calculating and analyzing the number of security guards and all the exits, trying not to let yourself be too affected by the girl next to you.

You pass smoothly through the search, the security guards looking very uncomfortable from the stern look you gave them when they touched Wanda, and in less than two minutes you are released.

And then Wanda kept her hand in yours all night, casually whispering the position of the guards in your ear. 

Two or three songs later, and some polite conversation, you were sneaking downstairs, Wanda's hand in yours.

You sneaked through the kitchen, ducking and hiding through the furniture to avoid being seen. The clock on your wrist guided you along the way. 

When you finally reached the small security room, you beckoned with your finger for Wanda to be quiet. You looked around in the hallways, and bent down to hack at the door. You barely opened the handle and Wanda hurriedly pushed you inside. 

You were about to ask her what was wrong, but she covered your mouth with her hand. And then you heard footsteps outside.

When the hall was silent again, you tried not to be so affected by the proximity and stepped back when Wanda took her hand away from your mouth, a smug smile on her face. 

You hurried to retrieve the necessary data, and hurried out of the room when you were finished.

And then there was a guard coming around the corner, and you were quick to draw your gun and knock him out with a blow to the forehead as soon as he saw you.

- No shooting, only if it is indispensable. - You tell Wanda. 

You turn down another hallway, and bump into someone. The man blinks in confusion, but when he notices the gun in your hand, he quickly takes an aggressive stance, and blocks your blow. And then you are fighting, and he disarms you. But you are able to overcome him with a strike to his waist, and then you punch him in the face. As he staggers, you slam his head against the wall, and he passes out. And then you grab Wanda's hand to hurry before these men are found.

You are almost to the salon when you are pushed again, but this time it is soft hands against your waist.

- Don't freak out. - Wanda whispers before closing the distance between your lips. You melt in her arms, sighing with surprise and excitement. And you kiss her back, moving your hands up to her neck.

And then someone is clearing their throat, and Wanda breaks the kiss. You're not reasoning correctly.

- Sorry ladies, this area is restricted. - Informs one of the guards. Wanda lets out a giggle, apologizing, as she pulls you in the direction the guard is pointing to. 

Before you can say anything, Schmidt is approaching you at the party.

- Maximoff and her fiancée. - He greets you two with a smile. - How nice that you girls were able to join the party.

- It's our pleasure, Johann. - Wanda says politely.

- There is a collection of private wines in my living room. - Said Johann with something you thought was an attempt at a charming smile. - Why don't you join me for something more selective?

You wanted to punch him in the mouth, but Wanda smiled, squeezed your hand, and nodded positively.

And then you two were walking upstairs, at least five security guards behind you. You exchanged a look with Wanda, worried about where this was going. And then you arrived.

Johann motioned for you two to sit on the sofa, while he sat in the armchair in the middle of the room. Fortunately only two security guards entered the room, and you eyed them, each on an opposite side, while the others waited outside.

- Tell me, do I look like a foolish man? - He started as soon as you sat down. You felt your heart race but didn't show it. 

- Johann...

Wanda's words were interrupted by a big punch from Johann on the table next to the armchair. 

- You come to my house to rob me. - he says angrily. - And you lie to me.

You swallow dryly, trying to think of exactly how you were going to get out of this one. Wanda seems to have decided to continue her cover to the last, and you choose to follow her lead.

- We don't know what you are talking about. - She denies it in a whiny voice. 

Jonhann laughs, and then he pulls a gun from inside his jacket. Your body tenses immediately, but he doesn't point it at you, but places it on the table next to him.

- The CIA must think I am an idiot. - He comments, shaking his head slightly. - That I wouldn't notice any strangers on my island.

- We don't...

Wanda falls silent when Johann raises his finger with a deadly expression on his face. But then he smiles mischievously.

- You told me you two are engaged, right? - He mocks and Wanda nods slightly. Then he looks directly at you. - Touch her then.

You choke in surprise, frowning. 

At your lack of response, he straightens his posture, reaching for the gun.

You lock your jaw, but Wanda touches your hand, looking at you with an intense gaze. And it takes a second for you to remember the gun she carries on her thigh. 

You nod slightly at Johann, who lets out a high-pitched laugh, putting the gun back on the table.

- Is it okay if I sit on her lap? - Wanda asks him, pretending to be afraid. 

- Whatever gets you there honey! - he comments with a mischievous laugh. 

You clench your jaw, ignoring the growing anger in your stomach. Then Wanda touches your shoulder, looking at you tenderly. She sits on your lap, her legs stretched out on the sofa. In another situation this would be amazing, but now, you feel your body tense up and you are trying to control your anger at the disgusting look you are getting from Schmidt.

He lets out a grunt of excitement as your hands begin to move up Wanda's ankles, and you make sure not to expose her skin by keeping your hands under her dress. When you reach for the pistol strapped to her thigh, Wanda sinks her face into your neck. And Schmidt is quite impressed and doesn't react fast enough when you pull the gun out of the dress, and shoot at him.

And then you shoot the security guards, and you barely have time to figure out if you really hit them, when Wanda is already getting up and pulling you out of the room onto the balcony. You should have about five minutes head start before the security guards outside realize that it wasn't you two who were executed, so you look around for a way out.

- I don't think you can climb in this dress, can you? - Wanda comments, making you laugh. Then you notice the speedboat parked below the balcony. You run back into the living room, rummaging through drawers. You let out a happy exclamation when you find the key.

- After you, darling. - You tell her as you look down at the balcony. It wasn't a high drop.

Wanda jumps first, and you throw the key to her. And as you are getting ready to jump next, the security guards enter the room. You give them a mischievous wave before you jump, and then Wanda takes off, and you leave Italy behind.

//-//

It has been a good few minutes since you left the mansion, and you have already warned Natasha of your location. The jet should arrive any moment now, and then you and Wanda will go on different missions.

- You wanna tell me something. - She remarks playfully as she steers the speedboat. You stretch your legs out on the bench in front of you, still seated.

- I don't know what you are talking about. - You deny it in the same tone.

- It's about the kiss, isn't it? 

- You're the one who's bringing it up. - You retort with amusement. Wanda laughs too.

- It doesn't have to be weird, you know. - She comments, and you look at the ocean around you.

And with your lack of response, Wanda puts the speedboat on autopilot, and turns to you.

- Don't stare at me, Wanda. - You ask with a smile as you feel her gaze on you, probably deciding what to say. She laughs, and ducks her head. Then you straighten your posture, and Wanda sits down on the bench in front of you. You look at her tenderly for a few seconds, and she looks back. - You know I'm in love with you, don't you?

Wanda bites back a smile, looking away with a reddened face. You ignore the uneven beating of her heart.

- And you know I'm in love with you. - She replies after a moment with a playful smile.

- And what are we going to do about it, darling? - You reply with a slight challenge in your voice, watching the sparkle in Wanda's eyes change.

The next time you kiss her, you are only interrupted by the arrival of the CIA plane. But you don't care, because you are sure that the next time you disguise yourself as a couple, it won't be just a disguise.

[shelassos]

hours 

hours  :  our muses spend the entire day together.

It's the morning.

His careful fingers extract the glass and shrapnel out from Diana's bleeding shoulder; it takes a lot to catch the Amazon off guard, and even more to gain the upper hand over her. These were no ordinary enemies that they spent the night defeating, however, and the nasty gashes on her exposed skin are evidence of their might. It's strange, to be taken care of like this, to not just bleed all over the floor of her apartment and dig out the foreign objects herself. Alone, she always endures the sharp pains without even gritting her teeth, but with him, she lets herself flinch; she lets herself be vulnerable. It feels nice, not to pretend. It feels nicer, not to be alone.

When they're in his shower, their armor left in his cave, she notices his own fresh battle wounds. Diana traces them with her fingers and her lips, as though to kiss them better before they scar. If only it worked like that, right? If only she could kiss away the tragedies etched onto his skin. Her injuries are fading already, from her expedited healing of course, but she would swear on her life that it's also from the great care he showed for her. She treats Bruce with the same gentleness, washing the night away from his skin, welcoming him to the morning with her arms around his waist.

Afterwards, they fall asleep atop the black sheets of his bed, tangled in each other's arms, their skin and hair still wet from the shower. It's beyond exhaustion that they both feel, and the truth is their dreams often become nightmares. But at least they have each other.

It's sometime in the late afternoon.

Happy Valentine's Day, Diana whispers into his ear, before moving to press soft kisses all over his cheeks and jawline. She's wearing that red dress; the red dress. The one she wore when they first met, when she did not know who he was and Bruce perhaps suspected she was more than what she seemed. She's wearing it because she knows it is his favorite color on her, but this time, she has her dark hair in curls that bounce across her shoulders whenever she moves. For his part, she think he looks impossibly handsome in a crisp white dress shirt that will be wrinkled from her fingers, if not completely torn apart, by the end of their evening. She'll enjoy it on him while she can, before she gets too greedy, though.

He gives her a card ⸺I'm batty for you⸺ that makes her laugh her infectious laugh, and also flowers that widen her smile. She gifts him a coconut, and the polite confusion on his face is enough to turn her laughs into giggles. In my culture, it means I love you, she begins to explain, describing its importance in great detail. Bruce discovers his other present later on, after dinner, when she's kissing him heatedly atop the sofa and his hands begin to explore beneath her dress. He finds the lacy lingerie that matches the exact shade of her dress, and it doesn't survive the hour in one piece.

They unite as one, always discovering new ways they fit together, several times before making it back to his bed. She calls it love making because though they are not soft nor gentle, every touch is a tribute to their deep affection for each other. It's the second time this day that they fall asleep together, but this time, they somehow hold each other even tighter.

It's late, late in the night.

She awakens from his fingers stroking her black hair. His mouth is sweetly on hers after she incorrectly wishes him good morning. She soon sees that it is still nighttime, and what's more, she notices from his window that the bat signal is beckoning him, demanding his presence, weeping for it. Her arms fasten around him, but she would never ask him to stay. His is a vow that is as sacred as hers, and to ask him to sacrifice it would be a disservice to him. She won't, but the seed of a private hope is rooted deep inside her, that perhaps one day he might make the decision for himself.

❛ Can I come with you? ❜ She surprises herself by asking. It's a silently spoken line that she's always respected⸺ this city is his. His rules, his rogues, his responsibility. She won't ever impede on any of that, yet neither can she pretend she is not curious. She wants to know him as intimately as she knows himself, and for better or worse, this is a large part of who he is. ❛ I want to see your city from your eyes, ❜ she explains. Truly, there is no hidden motivation other than love for him. As much as Themyscira forged her, his connection to Gotha.m runs so much deeper than even that. She wants to understand.

There's an easy smile on her lips that she hopes is enticing. Her lithe fingers stroke his back, feeling markings she left there and ones she did not, while she holds him as he considers. The bat signal seems to become brighter, more demanding. Time is never on her side, but maybe this one night can be different from any of the others. ❛ I will even dress in black. ❜ And it is still Valentine's Day, after all. Shouldn't two lovers spend it together?

[tryingtimi]

69/>:3

Hitman's Mistake

Would you look at that, I'm getting a prompt song like All Your Fault by YUGYEOM and I'm re-writing an old piece. It was a short one for a tragic love between a hitman and a woman anyway, so here's a Metalsea AU, my love. Also a reformed aesthetic.

METALSEA AU | HITMAN AU | MODERN AU | BLOOD | DISTURBING THEME | MENTION OF SUGGESTIVE THEME | DEATH | WC: 2,128

It shouldn’t have ended like this.

The black leather’s embrace tightened around Cronyl’s hands as he adjusted his gloves with his teeth. He molded into the shadows of the dimly lit gallery, leaning onto the velvety, red walls.

His fingers carefully held his cigarette, its twirling smoke lost in the darkness. He rose it to his lips again to scratch the itch in his throat, eyes never leaving the elegant pair on the ground floor.

Syonehlia wore the same blood-red dress she had during their first meeting.

A bitter smile crept upon Cronyl’s face, dried blood tightening on his injured upper lip. He soundlessly knocked his head to the wall.

“The deal has been sealed,” she purred on her even tone. He could hear her crystal clear, even from such a distance. “It’s your employer’s signature, is it not?”

Confidence. Delicacy. Fire. She had it all. She always had it. From that first moment which lived inside Cornyl’s mind as a never wearing out filmstrip. That first moment he could recall it anytime.

The job he was entrusted with that night almost felt like an insult. Its easiness stood close to the line where Cronyl could have felt offended. A luxurious event where the high-ranked crowd drowned themselves in gluttonous pleasures, leaving the biggest kingpin of New Eval staying upstairs. Alone. Barely guarded.

Cronyl’s job wasn’t questioning the perfect chance, however. He stayed there nevertheless, boredom accompanying him only as he waited for his turn; so long before Syonehlia approached him. He didn’t notice her right away, but she successfully chained his attention to herself with her platinum locks, her crimson, skin-tight silk dress, and her sharp gaze in the end.

She wore the look of a lady with the eyes of a predator.

Cronyl could still point out all the places her lips traced around his body that night. He gave himself up to her without hesitation, right after he let the kingpin's head hit the table, his throat precisely sliced up in the adjacent room he used as an office. Syonehlia might have treasured resentment towards him for being the one who killed his uncle. Although, if she did, he never saw it on her.

He, the lone exterminator, gained his first, single weakness that night.

Cronyl’s half-smile still tugged the corner of his lips as he squatted down in the darkness. The remnants of his cigarette burned his fingers under the gloves as he inhaled more of the grey stench.

“It is, Mrs. Eval. I must assure you, however, that my employer never has seen these papers. The arrangement does not exist, therefore your demand is not executable.” Eldnar might have worn the same tuxedo as Cronyl, but he couldn’t dress up his manners as finely. He did not try to sound sheepish, even a bit.

And that did its job.

Syonehlia’s curving figure brightened under the chandelier’s prismatic light where her dress showed skin. She didn’t seem pleased with the answer, taking out a cigarette of her own. Her confidence never faltered, however.

It reminded Cronyl of how she was never against his profession. In fact, after every exhausting mission, he stumbled home, bloodied and injured; she gently took his hand and lured him into the bedroom, not taking no for an answer. Only one thing was more heated than their love-makings. Their arguments.

Cronyl absent-mindedly scoffed, grazing over a wound at his eyebrow with the back of his thumb. He got that from the time when she threw a plate at him. A silent breath of giggle bubbled up in his throat as he let his head hang between his shoulders. He pinched the cigarette stub between his fingers, twirled and inspected it, then, eventually stubbed out on the corps’ palm beside him.

He dragged this body upstairs, so he could seat it here. As if it was watching the scene that was happening. As if he was watching it.

The dead man’s long, red hair almost hid half of his ruined face. Cronyl stretched his gloved fingers, feeling the injuries on his knuckles still throbbing with a faint wave of pain. The same blood stained it as the one painting over the man’s face; Cronyl couldn’t tell if it was his or the man’s anymore. He carelessly started fistfights with the guards outside the building as well, but they never stood a chance. It easily could have been a mistake, still.

This physicality wasn’t foreign to Cronyl, in contrast with the situation. He didn’t know where everything went wrong.

Syonehlia knew what being with him meant. To be the lover of a hitman required eternal loyalty and the responsibility of understanding his profession. It meant never-ending danger. She still fought with him over it, not less fierce than a lion with its mate. Not once. Cronyl have sworn her he can protect her and that any of his workmates would do it for him too, but they both knew it was a half-truth. A lover was their own responsibility, and theirs only.

Cronyl would have risked it anytime, nonetheless.

Tension tightened his muscles as he clenched one of his fists and forcefully stretched his neck down. Then, he run his fingers through his long, black hair, not paying close attention to the discourse down there. Instead, he fixated on the redhead’s body, its peaceful face that carried no more satisfied, smug-looking expressions. His ice-cold skin burnt with a nauseating stench where he stubbed his cigarette. On that palm that Cronyl would have skinned it, preferably.

He wasn’t a butcher, however.

“You're the representative of your employer, Mr. Rowan. You must have the liberty to make the right decision on your own. I’m sure we can come to an agreement when my husband arrives back.” Syonehlia gracefully brought the cigarette between her lips, her eyes sparkling with authority and a glimpse of voluptuous might.

Cronyl set his jaw, his bone barely bearing the force without cracking. He stepped and turned on the dead Urien’s lifeless hand as he adjusted himself to reach into his hidden pocket on his jacket; the crunching sound of the movement getting lost in the vast space. Fine silk grazed his gloved fingers as he pulled out a golden bullet with two letters carved into it.

He was sitting in his armchair, wobbling on the edge of insobriety when he received this bullet. It was the night of their most ferocious quarrel. They went too far too quickly, the things they threw at each other heads were beyond painful. And they were well aware of it. She stormed out of the apartment the moment Cronyl uttered the words: “Go then, no one forced you to stay. It was your own choice.” The words echoed in Cronyl’s mind as a neverending record. Syonehlia made him weak, which his lack of self-control displayed perfectly. He never burst out like that. He never became such a twisted version of himself. He was raised as a hitman, he could never have afforded emotions like that. He was warned to be careful.

He did refuse their teachings, still.

He made a lethal mistake; let Syonehlia give him a soul. In that very moment, where she showed up hours later their argument, curled into his lap despite his impossibly tensed state, and pulled out the golden bullet with the letters of her name on it.

This is the pledge of my loyalty, she said. Keep it over your heart, but use it only one time, she said. And she vowed to him that time never comes.

Cronyl took out his revolver along with his silencer. He proficiently fitted at the weapon, not paying real attention. His focus was drawn back to Urien’s body, instead. At that hand, he saw him caress her thigh as she sat beside him at the meeting. At that red hair that was tugged back, when she laced her fingers into it.

Cronyl bit back an awful curse as his fingers slipped off of the revolver when the silencer clicked in place. He run his hand over his face, while he stood up, looking over Eldnar.

The man was staring right at him.

And so Cronyl grabbed the edge of the handrail, climbed out, then down on it with ease so he could hang by his free arm only. He lingered in place for a moment to stabilize his body before he let go of the stone and landed softly on his toes.

The thud he landed with sounded muffled enough to not gain Syonehlia’s attention. He lifted his revolver, his aim precise. Right in the middle of her pretty head.

Cronyl was ready and yet, he did the only thing he never should have done in his entire life.

Hesitated.

“Why?” he uttered, his voice raw and raspy. “Why, why, why?”

He could have repeated it a hundred times. He wanted to. Still, this was enough to make Syonehlia’s poised shoulders tense immediately.

She slowly turned to him, while Eldnar beside her calmly took a drag of his cigarette and quietly walked towards the window. Leaving the two of them by themselves.

Cronyl’s throat tightened, his eyes burning as wildfire when she finally faced him again. He couldn’t see shock or surprise in her gaze, really. Instead, he saw something else entirely.

She took a small breath.

“You’ve caged me.” She knew it. She needed to know.

“Bullshit.”

“You’ve made me paranoid,” she continued. She needed to know he killed Urien. Her husband.

“Lie.”

“I’ve become this, because of you!”

“Enough!” he screamed.

He screamed at her; he never has done that once and yet now, he screamed at her.

He wanted to yell why, again and again, and again. He heard these excuses thousands of times now, but none of it was good enough. He needed something else. She should have answered him properly. At last.

Yet, when he looked at her, Syonehlia was not about to say anything. She just stood there motionless, delicate dress hugging the body he knew better than his own, pale fingers that made his knees weak with a touch laced together and the gaze that bewitched him from the first moment sparkling with anything but resignation.

The trigger burnt under his finger, his tears soaking his face feeling unreal, and the woman he was facing foreign.

Cronyl almost flinched from the muffled sound of gunshot.

Syonehlia fell to the ground with a thud, no grace hidden in the motion. A whimper scratched the pit of his throat as he walked over her steadily. He pushed it back into his gut, however.

When he reached her, he squatted down and gently brushed her platinum hair out of her face. Blood as a tiny river began to stream out from the bullethole. The wedged-in gold ruined her skin, and the blood slowly painted her face from pale pearl to mellow pink.

Yet, she seemed so peaceful finally.

Cronyl caressed her cheek the same way he did the first night they spent together. Then, he stroked her hair and ultimately led his hand to the bullet. He didn’t close his eyes, nor turned his head towards the chandelier as he yanked the bullet out of her skin with one swift pull.

“My condolences,” Eldnar started, his voice flat, but honest. He walked into Cronyl’s peripheral vision, stopping far enough from the pooling blood on the carpet. “What’s next, boss?”

Cronyl brushed the blood off of the deformed bullet to reveal the letters. They remained readable.

He sighed, thinking, then pulled out the empty chain he wore around his neck. With adept movements, he attached the bullet to his necklace, strong enough to never lose it. He pulled on it to test its strength; it was solid and it fit perfectly.

Cronyl stood up, touching the bullet as it fell upon his chest.

He kept it as a reminder. A reminder of the time he had a soul. Of that, he gained it only so she could rip it out with excruciating pain. Of that, to love is a weakness. Of that, he was weak once.

Of that, a hitman couldn’t afford such mistakes.

Cronyl adjusted his jacket, his face itching from the long-dried blood. His chest hollowed, emptiness echoing inside. As it should have been.

He shot a stone-cold glance at Eldnar.

“The rest of them,” he stated, while his mind still wandered back into that moment for a grave second; the moment his eyes caught that blood-red dress.

It shouldn’t have ended like this.