bakerstreet | redemption romance

(ooc: Thiirien is a former member of the Thieves' guild trying to get out and go legit as a merchant. Anyone who wants to help or to complicate that is welcome!)

[She can be the redeemer or the redeemed (or both!), depending on how we want to play this. I'm open to anything!]

[should probably be the redeemed since he's a hitman but i'm open to whatever!]

[This boy has a lot to atone for...]

[ The redeemer. This girl has a lot to learn about forgiveness and letting people change. ]

[His redemption is to die. Literally. His bride is to pull the blade out of his chest and allow him to die and release him from his afterlife of vengeance and suffering. Open to the "bride" being M or F and exploring the dynamics between the two! Open to discussing any of the options as well. Canon and character info here but more than willing to discuss and send show clips/give info if needed.

Open to playing him in Goryeo or Joseon or any time period through the years or modern day.]

[ m/m or m/f, canon or ocs are all cool.

Some deets:

-powered universe
-ran away at 16, mixed up in drugs
-accidentally killed a girl during a gang-related altercation
-arrested, got to choose between prison & contracted paramilitary work
-did terrible things because of it
-became a depressed asshole once the contract ran out
-mental health tank, checked into a mental health facility
-coming out the other side = looking for that sweet sweet redemption. ]

[ AU up the wazoo? (aka no Barton family) ]

[Absolutely!]

Clint's felt alone all his life, even when surrounded by people. Even in an organization as large as SHIELD he just ends up feeling like a speck, a tiny black mark on an otherwise white floor. Not that he's the only one here rough around the edges, but it's hard to feel like he belongs anywhere, let alone with the 'good guys'.

Because good's just not where he's come from. That's not what he's done. As great as they've been to him he can't shake the feeling that Coulson, Fury, Hill... they all made a mistake in plucking him off death row and trusting him with missions. So it's kind of a relief when they stick him with his first big one and it's an assassination. That kind of thing he knows he can handle and he's not surprised it's expected of someone like him. Should have known all along that's why he was picked.

So of course he's got to screw it up by falling for the target. He's had her in his sights at least twice and each time he's been paralyzed at the crucial moment, unable to pull the trigger (or in his case, release the arrow). Who knows what it is about her? All Clint is sure of is it's not just that she's beautiful; there's something about the way she carries herself, or some look in her eyes, that tells him there's more to the story here.

And he wants to find out. He just doesn't know how.

He's watching her one night, poised as usual to deliver the kill shot even though he knows he never will, when suddenly he blinks and she's nowhere in sight. Like, spookily fast. Like he's finally been spotted.

"Shit."

[ We're doing this on my terms.

He had a plan. It wasn't as though he was going into this without thinking about it, you know? Sure, it wasn't perfect — but neither was the death of two innocent men. So he was working with what he had, but it wasn't just impulse. And he was for the most part reasonably sure that it would work out fine.

But when the guards show up after he opens a parlay with the Blackstaff — not the escort he wanted, but he's still sure he can work this to his advantage — it seems he did not properly anticipate Elsin.

Wanting to ensure his friends were not at risk of discovery until he had arranged for everyone's safe passage (or their safe passage at the very least), he'd stepped away, letting himself fall behind before ducking out of sight. It was only then that he'd cast Sending to speak to the Blackstaff. Though the conversation was... tense, it at least felt promising. He had a chance, he was sure. He could ensure the lives of those two men were saved and convince her why their work was too important to be interrupted. Things would go just fine. That's why he keeps his arms at his sides instead of wringing them anxiously before him as the guards — more of them than he'd like, to be sure — arrive to meet him. This is fine. Things will be fine.

But then there's that funny little feeling that bristles at the back of his neck, and he looks over his shoulder — to see Elsin stepping into sight from around the corner.

Shit. ]

[ What part of stay together did Keegan not understand?

The whole of it, apparently. The party disperses once they realize the human is no longer with them, their priority shifting like the tide as Elsin's chest tightens with fear. The image of the Blackstaff at the docks comes too readily, of Keegan being tortured and inevitably forgotten in a dungeon somewhere. Waterdeep isn't known for its leniency, and without anyone else to take the fall for Malort's crime, doubtlessly Keegan would do as well as any in their eyes. Though the scenery might change, the aristocracy doesn't.

El's fears are realized as he turns the corner of an alleyway. Time slows into a series of loosely-connected moments, in which Elsin Taradil--

Elsin completely loses it. Over and over, the nobility have done nothing but take and take and take from them, but Waterdeep won't have Keegan. Varsas won't have Keegan. He doesn't realize that Keegan is the architect of his own capture, not that it would make a difference even if he did. The way he moves is all but unrecognizable as Elsin is transformed into a conduit of rage and pain made flesh, appearing with wild, furious eyes behind the guard adjacent to Keegan and easily slitting the man's throat. He takes down a second in the same manner before another guard grapples him from behind. Moving without hesitation, he kicks the guard's knee out from behind him, sheathing the man in an electric energy before he drives his dagger deep into the man's eye. ]

A'mael, run!

[ As El turns towards Keegan, the swing of a warhammer by a goliath catches him in the side, smashing more than a couple ribs and sending him crashing to the ground. Bloodied, he rolls to the side and disappears from the ground, narrowly missing the second blow that crushes the cobblestones where his chest would have been. He reappears atop the goliath's back, pull both of his daggers across his neck with such force that it nearly beheads the now dead guard. Suddenly, two arrows pierce El's shoulder, causing him to stagger and scream a hate-filled thing as he turns on his assailant, an archer from atop a building. The sniper he dispatches as quickly and brutally as the rest, adding to the ever-increasing number of those who have fallen to his blades with no sign of slowing. Clothing drenched in blood and arrows still lodged in his shoulder, his chest heaving for breath, he looks every part a demon. Not far away, El's glasses lie crushed and forgotten on the ground. ]

No!!

[ The scream tears from him, visceral and laced through with horror. Oh, this is so much worse, so much worse than he could have imagined — but, to his credit, he does not freeze. The first throat that's opened he extends his hand, the wound knitting closed before the guard hits the ground; the second he is already grabbing hold of, the gaping slash across his throat easing to a deep but survivable gash. Though he is fast, El moves faster, sending another man to the ground wounded to grievously for his healing to save. Scrambling to him, Keegan fumbles for two copper pieces from his pocket, gasping out the spell's incantation to lock the body in time. He looks up in time to see his lover take two bolts to the shoulder, crying out in distress and panic. ]

El!

[ Gods, but he won't stop. His eyes are a frightful thing, bestial in ways Keegan has never seen. Guards are dropping faster than Keegan can burn through spells, his forehead already dotted with sweat from the effort. Breathing in a sharp, painful breath, he shouts above the din of scrambling, bellowing guards, his voice carrying the staggering might of a magical command targeting the blood-soaked elf: ]

STOP!

[ And just like that, the elf's rampage ends with a jarring halt as El is frozen in place. Eyes wide with betrayal, from between clenched teeth he grits out: ]

Keegan? You...?

[ But before he can say any more, he's dragged roughly to the ground by a wholly unnecessary number of guards, his cheek scraping the rough stone as his wrists are clapped in irons. El offers no resistance, is incapable of doing so, because of Keegan. That in itself cuts deeper than any wound. ]

[ That look is like a punch in the gut. He opens his mouth to speak, to say anything, but the words die on his lips before he can even try. Panic rises in his chest at the sight of the guards grabbing and shoving and pinning Elsin — because he hurt people, killed people, and any one of them have the legal right to put a blade into his ribs here and now. ]

Get off of him—

[ Another spell is hissed out, his trembling hand making a sharp-edged motion — and as soon as the last syllable is spoken, most the guards on top of him just... stop. Those that are affected lean back, looking distant and apathetic. Those that aren't, however, seem even more furious than before, moving to grab hold of El and pin him more roughly against the ground.

Until an ear-splitting roar startles them so badly they're nearly bowled over by the sound of it, that is.

Hands clapped over their ears, the four still pinning El to the ground have little time to react before a hulking bear with fur of deep violet charges like a battering ram, head-butting one of the guards that had his leg pinning down El's throat and sending them sprawling with the clattering scrape of metal on stone. The massive weight of his skull knocks away another with a snarl that rattles straight down to the bones. When a third goes for his sword, the bear lifts its massive paw to strike — before it lets out a sharp, startled yelp, laced with confusion and pain. Its paw drops, body seizing up before its head hangs lax, the beast stunned and disoriented.

El doesn't have the time to do much beyond sitting up. The manacles on him are flimsy and not too difficult to break. The chains that suddenly erupt from the ground, dragging him to his knees. The cold metal attaches to thick, heavy irons around his wrists and throat, locking him in place, helpless and impotent. A moment later a familiar face steps into view; the Blackstaff, her eyes cool and expression unreadable, steps in from seemingly nowhere. She takes in the bear first, still dazed and unmoving, and then looks at Elsin with a raised eyebrow. ]

Well. So much for a calm, quiet parlay.

[ Despite being draped in heavy chain, he looks at Keegan with a tender, worried expression, murmuring soft reassurances at the other man-turned-bear. It's only after she speaks that he breaks away from the younger man, snarling at her as he fights his bindings, fruitless though it may be. ]

Is that what you call sending a unit of armed guards to arrest someone? "Quiet parlay?!"

[ Everything is ringing and spinning all at once, making it impossible to focus on anything, let alone move. Despite this his head leans forward towards Elsin's voice, a low moan of aching misery rumbling deep in his throat.

Above them Vajra Safahr looks the definition of unimpressed, her lips pressed in a fine line. ]

I call that an escort to a safe location for a quiet, private conversation regarding an offer of information and assistance. All relating to the attack and murder of two guards.

[ Her eyes trail to the fallen men around her, then back to El pointedly. ]

ben k̶y̶l̶o̶ ̶r̶e̶n̶ solo. STAR☆WARS. ota

Thiirien | Skyrim OC | OTA

wei wuxian | the untamed/mdzs

Rey | Star Wars | OTA

barry berkman / barry (hbo)

Nicolo di Genova | The Old Guard

Claire Bennet ∞ NBC's Heroes ∞ OTA

Cherri Bomb 💣 Hazbin Hotel 💣 OTA

Ben Solo | Star Wars | OTA

Kim Shin / The Lonely and Great God – Goblin / OTA

Conner J | Original

Andy | Old Guard | OTA

Natasha Romanoff | MCU | OTA

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<3

OC

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Regulus Black | Harry Potter | OTA