#this one is fickle’s fault though not mine

[cece693]

Handcuffs (Hannibal Lecter x GN! Reader)

Just wanted a break from writing Percy Jackson fics, so here's something for my favorite slasher :)

Summary: You made Hannibal Lecter fall in love with you, however, that doesn't mean that your cannibal suddenly turns into a normal person. You can't declaw a predator, nor do you want to.

tags: possessive Hannibal, reader loves him, insecurity, handcuffs, no funny business though ☹️

Hannibal was a man of little emotions, his person suit knitted tightly to conceal the darkness he harbored within. But after he met you, that meticulous facade he had spent his entire life perfecting turned to nothing. He allowed you to see him—see past the elegant, cultured mask to the predator lurking beneath. You saw the monster Hannibal Lecter was, and loved him regardless. You didn’t flinch from the truths others would fear, didn’t shy away from the hunger in his eyes or the blood on his hands. You accepted him, wholly, and in that acceptance, Hannibal found a kind of vulnerability he had never allowed himself to feel.

So, to be frightened of losing that bond—over something as trivial as a fleeting conversation—was not irrational to him. You and he were bound together, sewn tightly by an unspoken understanding, an irrevocable trust. It was not love in the conventional sense; it was something deeper, darker, like two conjoined twins who could not survive a separation. You were his, and the very idea of another daring to encroach on what belonged to him was an affront Hannibal could not tolerate.

You lay on the bed, one wrist tethered to the headboard by a pair of handcuffs. The metal was cool and unyielding against your skin, biting just enough to remind you of your restraints without truly hurting. Hannibal stood beside you, his form still as he observed you with that unnerving intensity, his eyes reflecting the dim light like those of a wolf caught between the urge to protect its territory and to devour it whole.

There was no anger in his face, only a calm so controlled it bordered on unnerving. It was the kind of calm that came before a storm—before a decision was made, or a life was taken. You knew better than to argue. The situation was absurd in its own way, but also unmistakably Hannibal. This was his way of showing love, his twisted, possessive proof that he could not and would not risk losing you. After all, if he didn’t care, you would not be breathing right now.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze with steady resolve. “You know that, Hannibal.”

He remained silent, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watched you. Then he took a step closer, his fingers brushing over the curve of your cheek, trailing down to your jaw. The touch was gentle, but there was a possessiveness in the way his thumb grazed your skin.“The fault is not yours,” he conceded, his voice a low murmur. “But there are others—pigs—who think they can encroach upon what is mine.”

He moved his hand lower, letting his fingers curl around the cuff on your wrist. “I am not a man who shares,” he continued, his voice like dark velvet, smooth but edged with something dangerous. “Nor am I one who takes kindly to trespassers. You belong to me.”

“And I do,” you replied softly, letting the words fall between you like a vow. “You don’t have to worry. No one else even comes close.”

For a moment, Hannibal's expression softened, though only slightly. He leaned in, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with something unmistakably him. “You speak as though you understand,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against your ear, “but humans are fickle creatures. Even the strongest bonds can unravel if pulled upon by the wrong hands.”

You tilted your head just enough for it to hover near his ear. A whisper, a vow. “Not ours. Not this.” You rattled the cuff slightly for emphasis, giving a faint smile. “You don’t need these, Hannibal. You know I’m not going anywhere.”

A shadow of something almost like doubt flickered in Hannibal's face, which you didn't catch. Hannibal was not a man who often second-guessed himself, but when it came to you, there was a vulnerability he despised, a quiet dread that perhaps, one day, he would wake to find you gone.

Instead of unlocking the cuff, Hannibal eased himself onto the bed beside you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he slid close, his arm looping around your waist with a possessive grip that didn’t quite loosen. He pressed his chest against your side, his legs intertwining with yours as though to form a barrier, ensuring you could not slip away even if you wanted to.

You felt his breath stir the hairs on the back of your neck as he spoke, his voice low and almost tender. “It is not you I distrust,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “It is the world. The world is full of banal, foolish people who do not understand the bond we share. I will not allow anyone to fracture it.”

His hand moved up your back, his fingers splaying against your spine as though grounding himself in the reality of your presence. “You have spoiled me, my dear,” he continued, his tone dropping to a near whisper, “with your loyalty, with your love. And now, I am left with the knowledge that I could not bear to be without you.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling the tension gradually bleed from his form as he adjusted his hold around you. The handcuff remained fastened, but it felt less like a restraint now, more like a reminder of his claim on you. His thumb traced small circles over your skin, soothing in its rhythm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly, your voice laced with affection. “You’re stuck with me, Hannibal. Whether you like it or not.”

He let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle, a rare sound that warmed your heart and made you fall more in love with this monster. “Indeed,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as though he could seal the promise into your skin. “And I would not have it any other way.”

As his breathing began to slow, the grip around your waist eased just enough to allow you to shift comfortably against him. But even in sleep, his arm remained draped over you, his fingers curling possessively into the fabric of your clothes. It was a silent promise, a wordless reminder that even in his most vulnerable moments, he would not let you go.

You listened to the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat, steady and strong, a soothing lullaby that seemed almost out of place for a man who carried so much darkness inside him. But it was real—just like his love for you, just like the monster you had chosen to love in return.

As the darkness of the room wrapped around you both, you let your eyes close, feeling the weight of his possessiveness settle over you like a protective shroud. There was comfort in knowing that you belonged to him—and that he belonged to you in return, even if it was in the most unconventional, twisted way.

[melishade]

Okay I’ll do the dialogue channel. I will use a lyric from the English version of Rumbling. “All I ever wanted to do was know what’s out there I refuse to lose without a fight”

A glimpse in the In Between OVA.

"You once believed in a just world." Eren felt shivers go up his spine, slowly turning his head to see Primus behind him, his power radiating outside of his body and forming that transparent armor.

"I believed in a free world without titans," Eren retorted.

"Even though you are fully aware that the Rumbling is wrong," Primus challenged in the multitude of voices, "You are so desperate to reach that world, that you decided to manipulate the power of the titans to inhibit your past self of telling Optimus and your comrades of your future memories."

Eren turned back to the sight of the Rumbling, trying to imagine that free, vast, world before him. One that he had seen when he fell from the Jackhammer with his comrades.

"You disgust me." the voices sneered, "You know that this is wrong, and you know that you would have spoken to Optimus sooner to prevent this outcome. Yet you would choose to sacrifice everything to achieve this!"

Primus pointed to the destruction of the Rumbling below, stopping Eren from altering the scenery and to look at the carnage he was bringing. The ships of the world alliance were destroyed by the steam; he managed to catch glimpses of human bodies burned to skeletons.

"It's all the same! That's what I didn't understand before!" Eren yelled at him, "That everything just repeats itself over and over again! Everyone is just trying to kill each other! Zeke and his self loathing! The fucking Marleyans! Even Optimus and Megatron! If everything is just going to repeat itself over and over again, why can't I just indulge in what I want?! To know what's out there?! I'm tired of people taking my freedom from me! I am not losing without a fight!"

"And yet you might be very well taking that same freedom you are seeking from your friends." That gave Eren pause, "You are trying to fulfill and outcome where you might kill my disciple."

"And that's your fault!" Eren gasped when Primus bolted forward like lightning, grabbed Eren's hair and yanked him backwards.

"You. Are. Weak," Primus emphasized, "You are a fool. Do not think for a second, that with this fickle power that pales in comparison to mine, that you've won. You are only allowed to stand here because I gave you the choice to! But after this, no matter what happens, you will die, and your suffering will only have begun, once I get a hold of you."

Eren trembled in fear as Primus let him go.

"Enjoy your 'freedom' while it lasts," Primus mocked him, "Because you are about to be met with resistance."

Before Eren could ask what he meant by that, Eren suddenly felt a strong tug at the titan form's hair, and glanced down to see Optimus frantically climbing up his hair like rope to get to the side of his head. As Eren felt himself getting drawn out of the Paths to deal with Optimus, a yellow orb floated near Primus' head.

"I have managed to alter the circumstances for the Autobots to arrive without damaging the flow of time," it informed him.

"Thank you, Vector," Primus said to the orb.

"It might not increase Optimus' chances at survival," Vector reminded, "Just like the boy has failed to understand, the future is not something that is set in stone."

Primus continued to watch Eren's struggle with Optimus and sighed in defeat. He was considering fixing that problem, but...he wanted to see how this would play out first before coming to a decision. As he walked away from Eren, he found the Little One waiting in the field of flowers for him, picking at the sleeves of his large coat anxiously.

"Hello." Primus kneeled down in front of her and smiled. Her anxious expression faded as she clung to his shirt, "I know. I have some things I need to take care of....Although, if you are willing, can you help me with something?"

She looked up at him in confusion.

"Well, you know this place better than I do, and I want to look for an old friend. An Attack Titan shifter named Eren Kruger." Primus grinned, "We have much to discuss."

(Obviously this is just a rough draft. When I actually start working on it, it'll flow a lot better.)

[dollmother]

a corpse will always spawn children. one should know very well dead things are rarely left alone. everything reconverges back into a single point, much like a dying neutron star. it fascinates me deeply, but i dare not let myself get overly curious. for who could possibly know the outcome to drown in suspense and anticipation.. 

i peak to pick up the little pieces, left behind the crash. there is no better way to cling on than to fragments of once-useful scraps. i take this wreckage at face value and scavenge like some starving rat. in this economy its much too easy to become a hoarder. sometimes the burden prevents any space for something refreshing and off-cycle… i look up to the crash and no longer possess a clinging urge to pluck it apart. heavens on fire because of me. there’s no chance of ever coming back, so i don’t bother to implore anyone to let me past the gates again. 

this palace, freed to roam, would have rotted with or without curiosity dusting the furniture.. genuinely either way would have doomed us, unless…

is my writing sentimental to me? do i really care what happens to a piece after i write it? i rarely revisit them. i don’t care too much. likely it’s because i havent written anything profound enough to warrant that kind of behavior…yet. i enjoy conversing with them because i feel they’re much like me in many regards. one of my favorite traits is their cleverness and the way it matches mine. i know they must not care as much as i do, though i greatly appreciate the company and conversation. i want to try not to assume everything about everyone so quickly. give things a chance, maybe im overthinking and too paranoid to discern reality. or maybe i just lack the emotional empathy to really believe what people thought of me. i just want to get in the habit of writing a sizeable chunk every day. it’s good practice! i always repeat that. do i need to write down EVERY thought i have? no… but it is sure tempting to undertake such a task. how would i even manage that? i envy those who have mastery over a fickle thing as human emotion. 

i love many things. knowledge, companionship, myself… so much that i was seeing everyone as an extension of myself at one point. what about a homogenous universe, an existence where every single molecule is alive and connected to each other? what if everything is part of a macro unity, we are the cells in the universe organism. god i am high as fuck. the last time i imagine a towering amalgamation of flesh with appendages still attached. mouths that go where they don’t belong… why is a human bond so visceral and grotesque? like a hunk of meat twisted into mixtures of parts and pieces. i wonder why i think such a cosmic horror out of a organic connection. i see beauty amidst the disgust. a beauty no one else could love like me. 

so if everyone is just my arm, how could i possibly love anyone else?

i tried to learn what it is. though i could never get the formula just right. is this what it means to be, inhuman? do you feel inhuman because you can't feel..and that feeling gave you nothing but shame and grief? you grieve that such an emotion was lost on you 18 years ago? do you blame what happened on that moment? no. i don't. this could've been prevented, all of it--- but i let my needs precede me and was blind to another. you could let me go if it was just the first time...

but i didn't stop at that. no i wanted to be loved no matter what, even if it meant sacrificing something in return. could you blame me? yes, because i let me get ahead of myself. a fault like that is none but yours.

i reflect a lot on everything that's happened. does it help anyone?

i wonder about vulnerability and its varying degrees. would softening myself to the blows of external criticism be crucial in my goals to get better? is that it? i think i can sense when someone thinks i’m insufferable. old me wouldn’t have cared much, because she doesn’t care about anyone else. in some ways that can be a good thing. you could freely be yourself and just exist…but as i grow older and coming to harsh terms with who i’ve become and who i am… sometimes you just can’t stay the way you are. i don’t think it would do anyone good if that was the case. while i have changed throughout the years, it’s far from being good enough. progress isn’t linear, i am living proof. too many times have i slipped and relapsed on the same vices. i’ll lash out still, thinking i learned how to suppress my emotions.

i hate when i do that. i’m so tired of being a destroyer. a saboteur. i am tired of being so tired of everything about myself. for someone who seems like they can’t get enough of themselves, i sure lead a life of shame. exposure therapy..thats what the writing’s for. myself for most, but if reading it helped someone else—i’m forever grateful. i can’t listen to everyone’s pleas, but when there’s chirping in the morning dew on each green leaf…i don’t know. i have no idea what i’m doing most of the time. just trying but its not good enough. i keep trying and learn things the hard way. lessons via punishment. and did you deserve all of that? yes. 

yes you did.

[museinmultitudes]

( STARCROSSED ): our muses find out they have to marry other people and they reunite at night !

her father had sworn to uphold her wish to marry who she saw fit, but the promise was fickle beneath the voice of a king. ophelia understands. truly, she does! but where her mind is at ease, her heart cannot replicate a similar response. it pains her so, especially as her bare feet retrace the too - familiar path beneath hanging branches and across overgrown roots. the tragedy of it all will tear her very existence apart to see mitama again, but it must done—— her family’s carriage leaves for the kingdom’s capitol in two nights.

thankfully, the fates are sympathetic to the chosen one. it does not take long for ophelia to catch the sight of mitama in the flower - graced clearing; the moon and stars keen watching them from their pedestals in the sky.

❛ oh how dusk’s heart trembles whenever you’re near! ❜ she manages a smile through her tears, ever so fatally joyful, and quickly closes the distance between herself and the poet. ophelia all but throws herself at mitama, wrapping her arms around her neck and pressing most of her weight onto her lover. ❛ it has been too long since our last reunion… ages, i’d argue! ❜ and it will be longer until they meet again—— if ever. but ophelia does not speak the truth into the air, satisfied for now with embracing mitama instead.

Looking at the stars has grown difficult. They were still as beautiful as they had always been. They blinked in and out with the same beauty, completely unaffected by the life changing events that came to pass for those below.

It was vain of her to think herself so important that the stars might dim their light for her sorrow. Her father had certainly said as much when he scolded her for any and every protest she might have made over the decided arrangement.

She hears Ophelia's approach before she sees her, but Mitama still struggles to tear her eyes from the stretch of sky she can see high above. Only when familiar arms close around her does she manage it, though Ophelia makes it difficult as her added weight teeters the two to the side. Mitama laughs quietly as she steadies them both.

"Quite a time indeed." Tears do not suit so bright a burning star. Mitama wipes them away as best as she can. "The fault is mine, you must forgive me for that." How she would take back every moment of passiveness if she knew how time would be limited.

Silence is heavy on this evening. Her hands finally settle for holding onto the arms that surround her. Mitama laughs again mirthlessly. "And you will have to forgive me once more. I have found myself lacking my usual wit the past few days. I would sing your praises far more readily if I had it."

[superbattrash]

Me: if you’re sick, stay in bed and sleep

My brain: superbat

Me: fine you can read fics if you wanna but then sleep

My brain: 👉🏼👈🏼🥺

Me:

My brain: 🥺🥺🥺

Me: jeSUS. OK, fine. Go write superbat in the living room. BUT WE’RE NOT PUTTING ON PANTS

[bibbykins]

Penumbric Commitments (M)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I wrote this up real quick yesterday, so please forgive any lacking in quality, but I had the idea and absolutely sprinted with it! I hope you all enjoy and look forward to the next full length fic I post, which I gave a not so little hint in here to!

Warnings: 18+, unhealthy relationship, manipulation, yelling, rough sex, light bondage, the usage of a belt as wrist restraints (consensual), brief fingering, male cumming inside, talking about not wanting a child, daddy kink, threatening to leave, offering to kill someone, semi-graphic talks of killing someone

Word count: 3.8k

Genre: Soft Yandere, Mafia! Au

Summary: Hindsight says Namjoon so easily complying with not having children was too easy considering his position in the business and the nightmare his parents had readily become. What you didn't realize was how far Namjoon was willing to prove to you he meant what he said that day: all you both ever need is each other.

Note: this is a canon drabble apart of the Silhouetted Bonds fic linked here

It's times like these that you regret getting a traditional clock. The ticking was incessant and daunting. It felt like it was getting closer and closer to your ear with the deafening silence it was slicing through. Analogs had to be the way to go, or better yet, none at all. The last thing you needed right now was a reminder of how much time has been spent at this table. Namjoon had sprinted home the moment his mother called him after your meeting with her. 

----

"Mrs. Kim, always a pleasure." You shook the older woman's hand with a tight smile. 

She returned yours with an equally fake smile, "Please, you know you can call me mother." She chided, but nevertheless you stayed silent as you sat back down at the table in your home. It used to be mom.

It was 8 a.m. your mother in law wanted to meet, so to be petty, you stated 9 a.m. would be great. It's a shame that your relationship with her came to this, but truthfully, it was far from your fault.

While in the beginning she had been like a mother to you, things quickly took a steep downturn the moment Namjoon reintroduced you into his life. The woman who had once been lively, rebellious, and took charge became a demure, stoic, and merely content wife. She had given you talks about your duty as the wife of the boss and the expectations she expected you to fulfill nowadays as opposed to telling stories of her youth and teaching you how to bake eccentric treats. She had even admonished you for leaving Namjoon, an idea she gave you really. Since then, she had always stated your allegiance to the business and your own husband had yet to be proven in her eyes. The notion struck you to only provide her with business professional talks.

You had always known her and Namjoon's father had been a marriage of convenience, but there seemed to be intense love between them, at least at one point. You're not sure when that collapsed in your absence, and sure you felt bad,but you did not care for her patronizing tones. If Namjoon wouldn't retaliate, she almost definitely would've had you killed the moment you decided to leave her precious son. 

"Now, I understand you're a busy woman, so I'll be chaste." She spoke as she took her seat, giving you a pointed look, "Do you feel as though you've made up for your betrayal?" This was obviously a trick question in her eyes, the simple answer being no.

However, you couldn't care less, "I have never betrayed anyone close to me, including Namjoon, if that's what you mean." You met her eyes with valor, "I don't see why you feel the need to ask such a silly question each time I see you." 

She laughed humorlessly, "Maybe I'm hoping for the right answer to cross your stubborn mind." Truly, if Namjoon didn't love and cherish his parents so much you would've told her to fuck off and mind her business, maybe focus on her own shitty marriage, by now. Alas, Namjoon was a people pleaser and fiercely intent on being a filial son.

"You mean your answer to the question about how I feel?" You raised a brow, "Even when apart from Namjoon, I took no other man. I've never even lied to Namjoon, I've been nothing but an honest and hardworking wife after forgiving his own shortcoming in honesty." You watch her fist clench in her lap at the suggestion of her precious boy having a shortcoming of any sort, "A shortcoming well remedied, seeing as I'm still here." You chided lightly in spite of the heavy tension. You pitied your staff in this moment for having to watch this battle of wills.

"Sometimes husbands lie to… protect, their wives." She struggled to find the right words as she regurgitated what Namjoon's father undoubtedly told her one too many times. Misery loves company, and goodness, did she want you to be as miserable as her.

You returned her fake smile two fold before speaking, "That's lovely, but I don't need protecting from my husband, I need trust, honesty, respect." The final word made her back straighten, "I'd like to live in reality with him, not be shielded from it, but I respect what you wish for your own marriage, but this is what I like for mine." 

She hummed in faux thought, "Very well, I can leave you to reflect on what marriage should be, you're still so young." You fought the urge to roll your eyes, "However, you're not that young…" This was a new addition, "When will I be receiving a grandchild?" 

Your brows furrowed. Namjoon told you she took the news of no grandchildren quite well. He told you that she was informed of your no children rule mere days after you spoke the words. The radio silence on the topic of children each time you met with either of his parents confirmed much for you, and you had even found yourself quite proud of him for standing his ground with you. Surely, his parents are not nearly old enough to be so forgetful.

This was the first question in a while that made you falter, and you could see the satisfaction she gained from it, "Grandchildren? I'm unsure what you-"

"Namjoon told me the last time I visited him in prison, you wanted to wait for your fifth wedding anniversary before trying for children, isn't that coming up quite soon?" She raised a brow and you felt your heart shatter. 

He lied to you. Again. He lied to you mere moments after you were ready to forgive him for lying to you the first time.

You let out a bitter laugh, "He did now?" She nodded and you shut your eyes for a moment, "It seems I've been made a fool of again." You sighed before looking as confusion crossed your mother-in-law's features, "I told Namjoon the very last time I visited him in prison that I did not want kids, ever."

"You know that's not possible for him, he's a successor." She laughed at your boldness.

"You know that he is an adult man with 6 brothers, biological or not, who will all marry one day, surely one of them will adopt or have a child." She scoffed at this, "I got my tubes tied years ago." This wiped the smile off her face.

"Does Namjoon know about this?" She snapped and you nodded with a bitter smile.

"He accompanied me to the appointment for moral support." You shot back.

"Well, your tubes can be untied and-"

"No." You deadpanned.

"No?" She mimicked in disbelief.

 "If Namjoon requires a child, he will also require a new wife." Your voice was cold and you watched shock settle into the woman across from you, "With his habit of lying coming to light, he may have to find a new wife regardless."

She stood, "Don't be-"

"Please, do not waste your breath on orders I will not be following." You held your hand up to silence her.

"I'll call Namjoon, he can talk this out with you, so you can see things our way." She tried to sound reassuring as one of your staff rushed to see her out respectfully when you did not budge from your seat.

You stayed seated at the mahogany table, staring at your wedding ring. You didn't want to get a divorce. You loved Namjoon, more than anything, and yet, did he love you more than anything?

----

You're not sure how long you stayed there, questioning everything, but it was enough time for Namjoon to come home. He ripped the door open, eyes searching frantically, ready to make sure you had not already left him before his eyes landed on your figure. From there, he took his seat across from you at the table and waited until he could no longer take the silence.

"Are you going to say anything?" Your husband's voice was calm, although fear was evident in his timbre.

You sucked your teeth and shrugged, continuing to look at your freshly manicured nails, "What's there to say?" Your voice was short, as if you were already tired of the conversation before it could even start, "You lied to me."

Your husband dropped his head into his hands and sighed, "Junebug, I'm sorry, I-"

"You embarrassed me, again." You look at him for the first time all night with a sharp glare, "Are you trying to find an excuse to divorce or do you just not care about me?" 

"Neither!" His head shot up and he met your eyes with deep regret when he realized you were looking at him with the anger and hurt he found you with all this years ago, "I love you, more than anything-"

"Obviously not!" You snapped, "Do you have any idea how it feels to explain to your shitty and judgy mother in law that, in spite of what her precious son said, you had no plans to have children, that you got your fucking tubes tied?!" Namjoon sighed, either in shame or pain, "Were you just hoping that would come around? That I'm such a fickle woman that I don't mean what I say?" 

His brows furrowed, "No, if I thought that, why did I let you get your tubes tied?!"

"Let me?" Your voice was mockingly soft, "You let me, huh?" You cocked your head slightly and he closed his eyes in frustration, "How fucking charitable of you, my sweet husband, master of the fucking house, to let your dumb little wife make a choice for her body!" You stood, "How considerate of you to play supportive husband only to fold the moment your mother asks you a question-"

"You know what my duty as the only son is!" It was his turn to raise his voice, but he immediately regretted it as he saw your eye twitch.

"And you knew my stance on kids before you got out of prison." You seethed, "You know why I don't want a fucking kid, nor do I plan to fold on my stance, because I'm all I've got left there." Namjoon's mouth parted slightly before he pressed his lips together.

"It's not my fault you don't want a kid because you'd be a bad mother just like your own." The words left his mouth before he could even begin to consider the repercussions. He was about to open his mouth again to back track wildly, but it was far too late as you took a step back, the weight of his words being too much to take from across the table.

He watched hurt consume your irises for only the second time in his life, the first time being mere hours before you left him for years, before you made him promise to never betray you like that again as a condition for you to come back to him. A condition that he evident did not adhere to in your eyes. "Do you want to know what made my mother such a bad mother?" He watched as the embers of rage within your eyes were only stoked by his reflection in your pupils, although he could see a thin layer of moisture begin to build up, pain, "You know, like I would be?" Your words were almost mocking as he stayed eerily still, "An unsupportive, isolating, and shitty sorry excuse for a fucking husband." Your word hit him like a truck.

Unsupportive. Isolating. Sorry excuse for a husband.

You weren't wrong right now. He felt shitty. He knew he should've just stood his ground. His parents didn't matter if it meant losing you, "I didn't mean that, what I said about-"

"You're right." A tear fell and he felt his heart shatter, "So if you want a kid, it'll have to be with someone else."

"I don't want anyone else, I never have!" He made his way to you as you weakly stepped back, "You're all I need." His voice was soft as he went to grab your hand, but you pulled away.

"You said that last time." Your tears were beyond your control as you wiped at them in vain, "You said that mere days before you told your mom that we were going to have kids and you told me your mom took the news well." You sniffled, "You lied to me, I can't believe that you lied to me and let me just walk around like a fool believing you, again!" 

He was stunned silent again. You were right. He had lost his back bone under the strict gaze of his parents and folded under pressure. He betrayed you, and all he could do was hope for your forgiveness.

You shook your head as he remained mute, "I need some time." You went to walk past him and to the door but he engulfed you in a hug, "Namjoon!" You struggled weakly to pull him from you but froze when you heard a sniffle.

"Please, don't go." He begged as he held you close, "I can't lose you again, I'm so sorry, please."

You fought sobs from escaping your mouth, "You lied to me, and your mom-"

"I'll kill her if you want me to." He spoke and your blood ran cold at his tone. He was serious, "My mom and my dad, I'll tell them we're not having children and if they can't handle that, they can leave us alone or die."

Your eyes were wide, tears frozen in time. Namjoon loved his parents. He was always a kid intent on surpassing their expectations, and he had made that clear to you when you started dating in highschool. You were his only sign of rebellion. He was intended to marry a woman from an affluent family, but he met you. You had figured that would be where his rebellion ended, but here he was, handing his parent's hearts in your hands and awaiting orders.

"Joonie, y-you can't mean-" You sputtered to reason but he only held you tighter.

"Or even if you just want me to kill them, I will, with my own hands of course, nobody else can know." His remained headstrong in his resolve, stroking your hair, "I don't care what I have to do to keep you with me." He kissed the top of your head, "You are the only person, the only thing on this Earth that matters to me I cannot live without you." 

A sick, and extremely twisted part of you wanted to call your mother-in-law and say, "Hah!" You wanted to rub it in her face that her son, in spite of everything, chose you. Her precious boy has been yours for years now. However, your sanity slipped through the cracks as you shook your head again.

"You love your parents." You shook your head as you cried into his chest, "And if you felt that way, why would you lie to me?"

He sniffled, "I was weakened, not 100% sure you would truly accept me with open arms and I panicked when they asked." He sighed, "I know it's pathetic and I know I seemed like I knew we would make it, but I didn't know that. They never brought it up after that so I naively thought they would forget and when they asked me again, I would tell them the truth and-"

"You're so stupid." You cried harder into his chest and felt him nod, "If you're scared to face your parents, tell me, and we'll do it together." You were surely ruining his dress shirt, but he stroked your hair soothingly, "Your mom has been calling me a shitty wife for years and after today, she must truly believe it, and I-I should take some time-" Namjoon held you, arms sliding down your body as he got down to his needs and you felt your heart drop, and you gasped, "Stop, don't-" 

You tried to help him up but he grabbed your wrists as he looked up at you with tear stained cheeks and eyes as wet as yours, shaking his head at your frantic protests as he kissed your hands and your wedding ring tenderly, "I can't lose you again." His voice was weighty with sorrow at the thought of you being away from him, "You matter more to me than my duty as a successor does, than my parents do, even more than this whole fucking business." He rubbed his cheek against your hand in desperation as you stood frozen from the shock of Namjoon begging on his knees with the utmost humility. The most powerful man in the city, undoubtedly the country as well, was on his knees crying and begging you to stay, "If killing my parents is what I have to do to prove it, I will. Name how you want it done, when you want it done, and I'll do it." He was dead serious and he could tell you knew it as tears spilled onto your cheeks even more, "You're a better wife than I deserve, and all I can ever hope is to be even a fraction of the husband you deserve, and I'm sorry I've been missing the mark." This made your face twist in pain, regret. Namjoon, up until today, had been nothing short of perfect, and even now he was making up for it, "Almost losing you nearly killed me, and-and I get that sometimes people need time to calm down but I would just prefer you beat the shit out of me instead-"

"I didn't mean that either!" You cried out as you sunk down to your knees to hug the sobbing man before you, "You aren't a sorry excuse for a husband, you're just a goddamn idiot, and I didn't want time I just didn'twant to see your stupid face because I was so angry." You laughed as he did for a moment, "Above all else, you're an amazing husband. I love you, always have, I just hate when you lie-" Your voice in his ear was like heaven as he felt a weight lift of his shoulders.

He grabbed your legs to wrap around his waist before you could properly settle onto your knees. He held you close and he soothed your cries, "I haven't lied to you since, I can promise you that." He sighed and you scoffed, "You don't have to believe me. I'm just asking you to stay with me so I can prove it over time." 

"I'm...I'm not leaving you." You sighed into his neck before he pulled you back to trap your lips between his as he kissed your with a vigorous passion. When you returned his kiss with an equal amount of desperation, he began to stand with you in his arms before promptly laying you on the couch, never detaching his mouth from yours the whole time.

You settled into the velvet cushions as he ground himself into your sex, making you gasp, "I love you, my darling." He murmured into your mouth while one of his hands slid your dress up and your panties to the side before brushing his fingers across your pussy and groaning at your wetness, "Oh fuck, you're so wet, baby." His mouth went to your ear as you moaned, threading your fingers into his hair, "Was it me promising to kill for you or me getting onto my knees that did it, hm?" He rubbed slow circles over your clit and you gasped, "You get off on me spilling blood for you? You get wet by me demeaning myself to keep you right here, where you belong?" 

"Yes, daddy, I do- fuck!" You clutched his hair harder as his finger slipped in and your hips wiggled impatienly, "Just fuck me, I don't care about being stretched, fuck me." 

Too desperate to even hesitate, Namjoon undid his belt, ripping it from his trousers as he secured your wrists within the leather garment, as he had done many times before. He undid your belt as he pushed your arms up and his pants down with his boxers. He slid into you with a deep groan that you matched with a wanton moan. He fucked himself into you feverishly, wasting no time in chasing your high as his nimble finger went down to stimulate your clit, "I love you so fucking much, y/n." He groaned as he felt you tighten, "I don't care who I have to kill to prove it, I'll even let you watch the light drain from their fucking eyes if it means you'll stay with me." 

You moaned out as he whispered gruesome threats to the outside world intermingling with sweet nothings as he held the belt around your wrists,using it as leverage to fuck you harder. If you were sane, you would not be getting closer and closer to orgasm as he cursed the rest of the world into painful deaths just to have you as his wife, but here you were, clenching around him and opening your legs further so he can go deeper, "Shit, I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, arms going over Namjoon's head so you could pull him down to you by the neck and kiss his lips messily.

His hand went from your clit as he wrapped his arm around you to hoist you up and slam himself into you further, "That's right baby, cum for daddy and I'll give you my cum." He cooed in spite of the strain to keep himself from busting you before you get your release. His words only threw you over the edge as you climaxed, hurdling him into his own. He fucked his cum into you like always and you moaned lightly until he was done.

He held himself inside of you as you both gained your breath again, exchanging occasional kisses, "You don't have to kill them, you know." You spoke finally "Although, I won't be so cordial with their bullshit anymore."

He nodded, "I'm by your side, Junebug, forever and always." You smiled before kissing him.

"And I, you." You hummed blissfully.

"We have everything we need between just the two of us, I promise." He smiled against your kiss while you nodded, "You'll be the only one calling me daddy for the rest of out lives- hey!" You smack his chest lightly as you both laughed blissfully, letting the seriously twisted shit that just transpired be a simple part of the past.

"Your mom is a bitch." You giggled tiredly as he chuckled.

"Don't worry about being nice to her if you don't want to, I have my priorities straight." He gave you another kiss that you returned with glee.

As he was cleaning you up, your hazy mind allowed you to feel smug at the fact that you just saved your shitty in-laws from certain death. You were their ticket to life. You were their precious successor's priority. You were his only true love.

Namjoon watched with nothing but love as he tucked your sleeping form into bed. Thinking on it now, he doesn't know if he could even stand the idea of you loving a child as much as you loved him. He enjoyed his monopoly over your affection, and a child would only throw a wrench in that for him. Taehyung liked kids, Jungkook seemed like a family man, maybe even Hoseok if that new girl he's saying is as serious for him as he says. All it took was one kid to carry on the business, so you didn't need to worry your pretty little head about it.

All you had to worry about was staying by his side and all he had to worry about was being a good enough husband to keep you there. He kissed your forehead as he held you closer to him, texting his mom the next time she disrespects you or his marriage, there would be consequences. 

You were the only person he needed. He would do anything to make you understand that. 

The ticking of the clock was nowhere to be heard as you laid in Namjoon's arms. You snuggled into him as you caught sight of the thinly veiled threat he sent to his own mother on account of your feelings. He was yours just as much yours were his and the victory of it all had never tasted so sweet. His heartbeat was all you could hear, steady, loving, and to the beat of the drum you commanded. 

You both wouldn't have it any other way.

Masterlist

If you enjoyed and are able, please support my ko-fi!

[the-lighwood-who-lived]

Hurts Like Hell- Hold on Pt.2

SUMMARY: part two to the previous fic 'Hold On I still need you'. Stark's gone. Y/N has all her energy put into getting this show on one last time- at Tony's funeral. Ending of Endgame with Y/N as the youngest avenger, and the only miracle who ever got Steve and Tony to agree.

‘Hey Y/N’ said Clint. I looked up at him from the bed where I sat. Pepper had come in a while ago, getting me and Morgan dressed in a plain black knee length dress. I didn’t have the energy- or mind- to do it on my own. ‘Hey birdbrain’ I said, trying to smile, but failing almost instantly. Clint, who was at the doorway, ran up to me in embrace, his Lila being my age and one of the few I trust, he knew me.

‘I’m sorry’ I whispered over and over. It was one of the things Tony taught me- emotions make you vulnerable. ‘No honey, I’m sorry- we couldn’t save him’ Clint said back. ‘I missed you’ is all I said… I can’t even say it… he’s gone… I won’t see him again… I – I just can’t…

‘I missed you too, all of us did’ said Clint, he held my shoulders and looked at me as he continued, ‘ Lets put on this show one last time Y/N, for Tony, for his funeral, and for Steve… he wants to help, and he can’t take it that he doesn’t know how��� he explained slowly.

I nodded as I looped my arm through Clint’s and we walked out. All of them were there- well, except one very sly smirk and a beautiful read head. Steve came to me as soon as I walked out the door. I wasn’t one to show emotions, I was taught by Tony- no surprise there. But none the less, I didn’t care who was watching, I hugged Steve, my arms clasping around his middle. The others were slightly taken back by the display of affection, but Steve reciprocated the hug in no time. I could here his heartbeat, hoping there were a few others still making that sound.

I walked slowly, each step feeling heavier, to the living room of Tony’s home… where he his message would be played. He knew- how dare he accept it- he knew! I sat on the couch, Steve’s arm on my shoulder and Morgan by my side.

The projection flickered a bit, before I turned into the man who we gathered here for. There he was- smiling, hopeful, alive.

‘Everybody wants a happy ending. Right? But it doesn't always roll that way. Maybe this time. I'm hoping if you play this back, it's in celebration. I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored, if there ever was such a thing. God, what a world. Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren't alone, let alone, you know, to this extent, I mean, I wouldn't have been surprised, but come on. The epic forces of dark and light that have come in to play. And for better or worse, that's the reality Morgan's gonna have to find a way to grow up in. So I thought I better record a little greeting, in the case of an untimely death, on my part. I mean, not that death at any time isn't untimely. This time travel thing we're gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. Then again that's the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I even tripping for? Everything's gonna workout exactly the way it's supposed to.’ He paused, the image moving closer to me and Morgan.

He pointed at Morgan and said , ‘You, are my greatest creation’ and then he paused, it seemed as though Tony was right there, looking me in the eye, he said ‘And you Y/N, are my greatest treasure’. He moved a step back, almost like he was turning off the recorder, but said one last line , ‘I love you both 3000’.

And just like that he was gone.

That was his final memory… no more…

I slumped back on the couch, feeling myself shatter into a million pieces , an empty void inside me… Pepper let out a tired breath. ‘Living is a fickle thing, death making it precious. Death is a cruel thing, making the living defenceless.’ I said humourlessly as pepper held in tears.

Steve held out his arm and we head out to the lake. A beautiful wreathe with a arc reactor in the centre- ‘Proof that Tony Stark has a heart’ it said… Pepper placed it on the water, soft ripples making its way out. I looked at the arc reactor as it drifted away, muttering under my breathe, ‘ I loved and I loved and I lost you…And it hurts like hell…’

That day, that moment, I saw what grief is, in every soul standing there, in every Avenger, every hero, I saw it.

And everyone was there.

It was over almost as suddenly as it happened. I sat over the ledge looking out on the lake. I heard footsteps behind me, Steve. ‘I know what your going to do’ I say quietly. ‘Return the stones’ Steve said.

‘Don’t bullshit me Rogers you know what I’m talking about’ I say, the Stark in me showing. Steve however, didn’t react, he took a deep breathe and sat next to me. And to my other side, I was joined by Bucky. ‘Hey Nova’ said Bucky, calling me by the name the world knew me by. ‘Getting bold aren’t you James?’ I say, not much enthusiasm behind my words.

We sat in silence a while. ‘I’m selfish enough to want you to stay, but I love you enough to know to let you go Steve….’ I say after a while. That was one of the last things I wanted to do… lose Steve too…. But few years in the past is another woman, hoping and praying he’d come back. She should get her happy ending. Steve started to speak, but I got up and walked away.

I stood by Bucky, back in gear as Steve took the last of the Pym particles and got ready for his one trip. I don’t think anyone else knew…

‘1…2…3..’ said Bruce, Steve disappeared. ‘3…2…1…’ Bruce said, counting seconds to when Steve returns- I turn away and start to walk off. He’s not coming back and I don’t want to witness it.

As I walked away I heard the chaos and confusion behind me, probably just Bucky trying to choke Bruce. I went back to my spot at the ledge, where little Morgan stood playing with a high-tech boat. ‘Morgan’ I said in a sing-song voice. Her head snapped to my direction. ‘Y/N!’ she giggled as I made my way to her.

I sat by her and held Tony’s greatest creation as close to me as I could, the creation I’d protect with my life. We sat there a while, talking about cheese burgers and juice pops.

I don’t know how I didn’t notice, being trained by Nat and Clint, but it took me by surprise when someone swung their arms around mine and Morgan’s shoulder. Naturally I elbowed whoever it was before pulling Morgan into stance behind me. I could see Thor, Bucky, Clint, Wanda… the whole lot a bit further behind.

The person got off the floor chuckling, ‘Guess it’s my fault I snuck up on an international spy.’ He said. I smiled as I felt the wait of the sky off my chest.

‘Steve?’

[shu-sakamaki]

You ate one of Kanato's puddings when the bride comes in and sees you. You shove the empty jar and spoon into her hands and walk away just as Kanato comes into the kitchen. A while later you're sleeping on the couch when she comes to you covered in bite marks and cuts and screaming at you.

Hah? You allowed that weirdo to have his way with you? You really are one fickle woman, aren't you...

If you wanted to get your blood sucked so much, why didn't you come to me?

[*she yells again reminding me I ate Kanato's puddings even though I hate sweets*]

Ah, but it is your blood I smell, not mine... Or Kanato's. Hm? My fault? You have lots of nerves telling me that, the fact you are so easy is what got you in this situation.

[kob131]

Morgan Le Fay (Alter Ego) My Room Lines

Morgause

“Master~ Can we stay here please? A moment’s rest may bring you far after all!”

“Ah, you really like to work don’t you? No no, I’m not accusing you of anything. I know your drive after all...”

“No matter what, it doesn’t seem I’ll get use to fighting. I wonder if either of those two would-ah. nevermind!”

Bond 1 “...Oh, sorry Master! I was spacing out there for a moment. I’m...not really use to being...heh, nevermind me!”

Bond 2 “Your magecraft seems a little shaky lately. Are you sure you’re feeling well? You eating well? Maybe a nice plate of meat and potatoes will make you feel better? ...Wh-what do you mean that’s too heavy?!”

Bond 3 “How strange.  I’m still here. Usually I can’t remember where I’ve been or how I got where I am because...because...

...Well anyway, I can’t say it’s bad after all. I’d certainly be worried if one moment I was here with you and the next you left my sight. That-that can get rather scary...”

Bond 4 “... ... ... I can still feel them inside me, you know? ‘The Lady of The Lake’ and ‘The Fairy Witch’. My...other selves.

... Why? Why? WHY? Why do they have to exist? Why are they inside me? It’s not fair! I lost so much to them! So much of my life- Take, STOLEN from me by them! And even worst, they took my home away! I’m Morgause Pendragon, the daughter of Uther Pendragon! I am human! Not a fae! Not a witch! I. Am. HUMAN, ME! 

So why can’t they just leave me alone?!”

Bond 5 “... I won’t be here for long. Even if this body were to see the end of your journey, I-I might not be the one in it. I was the first to fade away after all. It’s simply my fate...to be used and discarded by everything I love. 

...Even so, I won’t run. As weak as I maybe in comparison to them...I won’t surrender a second of my time with you. With anyone. I’m here now. I am me.”

To Gawain “My son...my darling son. P-please don’t turn away! Please. I-I lost so much time with you. I can’t-I have to. Please, come embrace your mother. Before I’m gone.”

To Gareth “Gareth...my little pup. Look at you, you’ve grown up so much. I bet you had the lords at your beck and call. ... I wish I could have been there for you.”

To Agravain “Oh Agravain. It hurts to see you look at me so. And yet, it’s all my fault. If only I were stronger, if only I could overcome them. My little knight...I’m sorry.”

To Arturia “Arthur-no, Arturia isn’t it? To think I felt so bitter about what our father wanted...when there was so much to lose to that envy. I...I shall take my leave.”

To Mordred “Master, that knight over there?? That...wouldn’t happen to be Sir Mordred correct? ... Yes I assumed so, given her glares at me. Le Fay’s child with my own brother...There’s nothing I can do to help her, is there?”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “You there, the witch. You have quite the nerve to show your face here. You, who abandoned her humanity for the sake of a kingdom. Your kingdom was a shame and deserved it’s fate. Glare at me all you wish, without the three of us you would be nothing.”

Likes “What do I like? Well, I always liked cooking. It was always such a treat to see my children’s faces light up when I cooked with all my heart!”

Dislikes “...Lake fae and evil witches.”

Holy Grail “Even if it is a heresy, I would like to wish upon it. Then maybe, I can finally be free.”

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Vivian

“Master, come. We have much to do still. ...I know you must be tired, I understand your weariness. But still, we must persist.”

“There’s no need to worry about me. An adventure like this-it is a simple matter. Compared to guiding those troublesome fae...”

“Quiet, quiet, quiet. ...Sorry Master, I was...having some difficulties with...the others. Le Fay especially...”

Bond 1 “So, you have stayed by my side? How strange, most humans simply leave the lakeside after so long.”

Bond 2 “Your heart is weary. There is no point in lying. I know that feeling well myself. Perhaps I have been pushing you too hard. Come, rest. All need reprieve after all.”

Bond 3 “It seems my time has not come yet. Good. I cannot-I will not fade like before. I refuse to let things end like before.”

Bond 4 “It is so tiring. To have their thoughts, their minds inside me. Always, always a reminder. That I am more than the fae ‘Vivian’. The human princess and the raging witch-

...No. No. NO! I am here now! I will be the one to fight! I will be the one to guard the Human Order! I will be the one protect the Age of Man that Father wished for! Not the human Morgause! Not the witch Le Fay! 

I am Me, Vivian, The Lady of the Lake!”

Bond 5 “Even though I am the fae Vivian, an existence incompatible with mankind. It was always the humans I loved most of all. The fae, so fickle and cruel. I guided and guarded them out of duty alone.

Why you may ask? Because it was mankind that my father Uther loved. He protected them to his last breath. And so shall I. Even if I may never see the Age of Man, I will protect and guide it. Especially you, my Master. I shall ensure your safety to death and beyond.”

To Lancelot (Berserker) “Master! Th-that figure cloaked in black! I-it can’t be! My son! This is what became of you? ... Who did this?”

To Lancelot (Saber) “I knew it. Of course my son would be here. There was no chance he wouldn’t answer the call to protect mankind. He grew into a splendid knight after all.”

To Mash “This feeling... You there, young lady with the shield. Come forward, let me take a good look. ...It really is, isn’t it? Don’t be scared young lady. I shall never hurt you. Now, come with me. I have much to discuss with you.”

To Fae Servants “*Sigh* It seems there are some troublemakers in this place isn’t there? Worry not Master, I know how to keep them on a tight leash.”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “Ruler of the fae, huh? How pathetic. To have resorted to such evil. I do not care what your excuses are. I lead and guarded the fae myself. I sacrificed my place in the world. I expect no less of you.”

To Arturia (Archer) “How cute, thinking that little spruit is alike to my magic. Here, let me show you what a true Excalibur Vivian can accomplish.”

Likes “Besides mankind? ...I do enjoy watching the forest creatures prance about. The little bugs especially.”

Dislike “Lazy princesses and malevolent witches. That is all I’ll say.”

Holy Grail “It is a false wish granting device isn’t it? Still, if supplied with enough mana, it might just be enough to grant my wish To gain my freedom.”

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Morgan Le Fay

“Careful now, Master. One wrong step and things will certainly go wrong. I know how much fun it is to lose yourself in the throes of battle. Hehehe...But your goal must come first.”

“That fire...that determination. Very well, I’ll join you in the fray. After all, I haven’t nearly indulged enough myself.”

“Your magecraft is rather lackluster isn’t it? Hm, whatever you call your ‘talents’, that doesn’t matter. Practice, practice, practice. Experience breeds excellence. I didn’t match Merlin with pure talent after all.”

Bond 1 “I must say, staying this way at will without being subject to the fickle whims fate...it’s rather nice. Thanks Master.”

Bond 2 “Fate is cruel. I know your pain better than most. Forced into the impossible by the will of others. But don’t let your heart waver. Through will and guile, you will gain your freedom.”

Bond 3 “Don’t hesitate to give me tasks. I find myself with more time than i know what to do with. Preferably with you around...”

Bond 4 “I’m sure you’ve heard about this before but...My other selves are still here. Deep inside, I can still here them. Their woes, their uncertainty, their hatred. All mine...

...Bwahaha! What a joke! As if I would let them trend upon me. It was my loathing that struck fear into Camelot. It was my malice that twisted the Green Knight. It was my love for Britian that allowed me to stomach sharing a bed with that liar. I am no feeble princess or passive fae. I am me, Morgan, the witch that loved Britian!”

Bond 5 “So here we stand still. I’m sure you caught on but I hate the Age of Man. Tearing away all the work I put out, fading everything I’ve done into legend. Acting as though I was never here. For it’s sins, I will always spur it.

So why am I here? Because I would rather have an Age of Man with Britian than not. Be it the destruction of history or man, I will not stand for it. I will rage and hate and burn until all is done. So long as we stand on the same ground, I will be here. I can’t trust the other two to get the job done after all.”

To Mordred “Hm, that defect of a homonculus is here? Master, you are best off sending it away. It’s incapable of following orders or performing tasks sufficiently. I would love to fix it but that’s beyond my reach.”

To Arturia (Alter) “Tch, that liar dares to attach my name to something so weak. She preaches that the strong rule over the weak, shall I teach her who is truly strong then? Gwahaha!”

To Merlin “Ah, Teacher is here too. How unusual, that fickle asshole couldn’t be asked to cut a blade of grass, let alone save humanity. He’s not even really here is he?”

To Fairy Knight Tristan “Master, this annoying brat won’t leave me alone. Acting all familiar and friendly with me... Maybe I’ll teach her what it means to truly be sadistic. Perhaps by rending her limbs asunder...”

To Arturia “So the King of Liars has come as well. Maybe a trip into Hell will teach her the place where she belongs...but that will have to wait, won’t it? She still has her uses after all...”

To Oberon-Vortigern “That mana. Another embodiment of Britian is here?! It feels like that failure Vortigern...yet...it’s so different. I must dissect him, to know!”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “Ah yes, that other me. Heh, what a fool she turned out to be, no? She rages against man, fae and knights, wasting all her efforts in the process. Focus, my dear. Focus is the key to victory. I did not waste my time with man or fae, I put my all into the slaying of Arturia. And which of us succeeded, hm?”

Likes “A rough night with a man below me, of course.”

Dislikes “My other selves. Unlike them, I will not hide the truth.”

Holy Grail “Hm, I have no need for such a thing. Unlike them, I will not cling to a false hope. It will be my hand that cuts them out like the parasites they are.”

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Bond 10 CE: I Am...?

One minute *I’m* home with my children One minute ^I’m^ guarding those troublesome fae One minute -I’m- cackling as I tear into his flesh

The next I’m not.

It is my duty to *lead*/^guard^/-destroy- my kin No, That is *my*/^my^/-my- duty. No, it’s *mine*/^mine^/-mine-!

...Is it?

No, I am a *princess*/^guardian^/-witch-! That is not what *I*/^I^/-I- am! Stop it! This is who *I*/^I^/-I- am!

I am *me*/^me^/-me-! I am *Me*/^Me^/-Me-! I AM *ME*/^ME^/-ME-!

I am... I...am... I...

....Who am I?

[the-voltage-diaries]

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου - Lucifer x Diavolo

AO3 Link

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου: Greek for ‘My Polar Star’

Word Count: 1859

A/N: I don’t know what this is. All I know is that @simpingw0lfi3​​​​​​​ refused to do it, so I did. Of course, please don’t expect this to be perfect because... it really isn’t. 

Vote of thanks: @akaiiro-yume​​​​​ for checking and correcting all the grammatical fuck ups I did, making sure I didn’t stop writing this halfway and going through any mental breakdown I might have had instead for me. And, of course, @some-ikemen-snob​​​​​ for making sure this SCREAMED Lucifer energy this way and that. only for now, but ily both.

Devildom 14th February, 20XX Saturday, 7:57 PM

Dear Diary,

      I suppose I've never written a journal entry such as this in the past, for I haven't found either the desire or the will to task myself with writing my thoughts down in a manner wherein I speak to an inanimate object. That said, I have been told writing is, in a manner of speaking, therapeutic, and I believe I could do with some of that right now. It would be false to assume I don’t still harbour any inhibitions towards using my time in this manner, especially when I'd much rather be by Diavolo’s side. The very same Diavolo who, as a matter of fact, happens to be the subject of this writing session today. Strangely enough, and if I recall correctly, he was also the one who introduced - which is putting it rather mildly - me to the “art” of journal entries. I admit, I haven’t given this activity the kind of gravity which was probably expected out of me, but then again, today is a little different from the rest. I'm not entirely certain as to where to begin, but I do believe I have been told in situations like these, one should do whatever... feels right.

      Diavolo is... well, where do I even begin? He is the future of Devildom, as a few might call it - myself included. While he does appear to be quite the cheerful and at times careless lord, it’d be a lie to deny that he is just as wise and compassionate underneath that wave of buoyancy radiating off of him. Honest to a fault, but with his moral compass always pointing towards the best interest of those around him. I’ll admit, sometimes it proves to be rather difficult to believe that he indeed is a demon. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to compare him to the Polaris considering he does quite radiate the charisma from himself, shining admirably amidst a dark sea of onlookers. While in name he rules over all the demons in the land of Devildom, the right set of eyes won’t take too long to deduce the eloquence with which his fingers reach out to the soul of every single resident of the land, holding them together better than gravity ever bound humans to the earth. 

      Saying that is all there is to him would be a lie whiter than the wet snow, making its way to the tips of my fingers and sliding off gently onto this page. That, of course, doesn’t mean describing how I feel towards him is no herculean task. There are some cases when a language -  no matter the plethora of vocabulary it offers - just isn’t sufficient enough, and this certainly is one of those cases. For the time being, let’s just owe my lack of articulacy to the bond of mutual respect and trust Diavolo and I share, built over centuries upon centuries, braving the ravages of time, and even perhaps the less than pleasing antics my brothers tend to pull. But while the impression the ruler of all demons and I tend to emit may seem to be distanced by a careful degree of professionalism, I don’t believe anybody knows that that might not be the case. Even Diavolo himself. Doesn’t come as a surprise, really, for they simply can’t know.

      Why do I believe that to not be the case, then? Well, I would wonder why I felt so strongly about it had I not known the reason myself. The very same reason which is now a secret so surreptitious that I can’t help but consider burning this piece of paper once I finish writing to ensure it is never revealed to another set of eyes. Such dastardly is the nature of this emotion, tricking one into its delusive warmth, encompassing them with the belief that nothing truly is impossible, that what they feel might just be true and meaningful enough to be returned by the other they feel for, only to cackle with glee and turn away when the reality doesn’t match the fantasy it was believed to turn out to be. The very same emotion which in layman’s terms is apparently called... love.

      I’m not entirely certain I understand the extent of its exquisite existence myself, to be truthful. All I know is no matter how intensely I try to shut the door on its escaping fumes, it turns futile the second I lay my eyes on the man in question. While the rest of the known universe sees an omnipotent leader binding everyone together, making them sing the same tune in harmony, I see what I can only consider an anchor, grounding me, making it so that I can’t ever fall into the abyss of the darkness that breathes inside of me and float away. He is the quintessence of the best of what the world has to offer, with his golden eyes sparkling like stardust, weaving their ever-lasting magic into the hearts of whoever they come across - be it human, or demon, or angel - wrapping them in their never-ending warmth, letting them sink into the depths of benevolence they promise. His hair are the cerise of a raging inferno, sheltering beneath their canopy a quick, sensible, erudite mind. His smile is but a warm culmination of everything optimistic and positive, like a flame inviting moths to it, reaching out to give their innermost yearnings a hand to grab on to and never let go. Simply divine. And this is where the paths diverge, I suppose.

      They see a to-be Demon King, I see Diavolo.

      But alas, love is a fickle mistress. Getting too lost in the charm of her alluring arms will only result in a doom of them wrapping around your neck, enticing, until you realise their hold is tightening. Not to hold on, but to suffocate. I might have gotten so lost in that fiery gaze that I didn’t notice it start to crawl along my skin, leaving a charred, burnt path in its wake. The very anchor which I believed to be the one to ground me and hold me close etched itself deeper into the oceanic floor of delirium, drowning me. The threads of his stardust wrapped themselves around me and clutched hard enough to strangle. Before I knew it, the symphony of something meaningful became the cacophony of a nightmare.

      This red thread strung through itself earlier today the series of events I’d rather forget. I’ve known how I feel towards Diavolo for a while now, and I had been searching for an opportunity to come clean and let him know about it for the last few days. Not to say I hadn’t gotten said opportunities at all, but one could owe it to me being too prideful to admit I was finally opening up to the idea of accepting feelings and... emotions. Around that time was when Solomon let slip a few details about the significance of Valentine’s day in the human world as an annual occurrence to celebrate romantic love, friendship, and admiration, and with enough persistence, Asmodeus managed to convince Diavolo to declare the day as an official holiday. Just a few hours ago I walked along the empty hallways to Diavolo’s office, knowing him, Barbatos and I to be the only ones in the building, still choosing work over any form of inactivity. By then, I had talked myself into finally telling the most powerful of all demons about the feelings I harboured towards him. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I was indeed a tad hopeful, wishing for the feelings to be returned. Once I reached the door to his private office, my hand settled above the smooth hardwood to give it a knock. And that’s when I noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. I heard a voice inside, other than Diavolo’s, and I took the liberty to glance inside, only for my hopes to come crashing down when the realisation struck me: I shouldn’t have done that.

      Inside his office, Diavolo sat in his seat with his mouth pressed against another, a hand trailing across the small face with dark green locks framing it with elegance while the other held on to the person’s waist, pulling him closer. My eyes widened when the smaller man of the two let out a muffled whimper, perched on Diavolo’s lap. Barbatos. I felt my heart squeeze out a pained croak at the sight, and even though every single nerve in my body begged me to move away and forget I ever saw anything, my legs didn’t move. They stayed glued to their spot on the floor even as I felt it crumble beneath my feet, just the way my eyes stayed on Diavolo. My lip trembled with a longing I never thought I’d experience when Barbatos intertwined his fingers with Diavolo’s, smiling into the kiss they shared, like the perfect harmony which was always meant to be. It was when Diavolo broke the kiss, eyes meeting the other’s and whispers of love and confessions floating across the room until they settled on my ears, that I finally felt the mask crack. The facade I had worked on for centuries to lay the foundation of crumbled as my fists clenched, letting myself have a moment of weakness when a lone tear of frustration, delay, anger, and self loathing dripped down my cheek. I looked up at the ceiling, a voiceless laugh tumbling across my lips at the cognisance that the Polaris I was reaching out for, shining proud in the middle of a dark, cloudless sky, was beyond my reach, and... never supposed to be mine. How far I could stretch, how willing were my fingers to make one last attempt to touch it’s light and bask in it - all of that didn’t matter anymore.

      I exhaled a shaky breath, blinking once as I tucked away whatever it is I was going to tell Diavolo in some corner of my mind, crushing the key with a hard snap of my fingers. My eyes found Barbatos again, glazing over with a heartfelt wish for him to find his happiness, at least. It was with one last aching smile towards Diavolo and a euphoric laugh spilling from Barbatos’ lips that I turned on my heel, shaking my head at the fate I was handed. Needless to say, I hold no malice towards either of them - they’re both precious to me, as much as I dislike admitting it.

      I believe I have shared more than what was required, and I shall burn this piece of paper lest anyone finds it. One might call it wishful thinking on my part, but I do pray that watching the last signs of anything I harbour towards the one who wasn’t meant to be mine from the start burn as the embers of the fire consume it whole makes me put a lid on my feelings once and for all, for they were never supposed matter. They weren’t supposed to exist to begin with.

      After all, only a prince deserves a fairy-tale with a happy ending, and I am no prince.

Lucifer.

[eve6262]

pentakill: morde and karthus make out edition

Karthus absently closes the pot and turns around to a plate of metal in his face.

“Wh- Morde, can you not sneak up on me?”

“I think that’s more your fault than mine.” Comes the rumbling reply, and while he does want to argue there’s also a point to be made about the loud clank of metal that announces his arrival wherever he goes. Though it’s easy to tune it out, considering they all live together, he still never goes anywhere unnoticed. Until, apparently, just now.

“Something caught your mind?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just tired, alright? Performance was long as hell, and yeah, we all made it, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t-”

Morde catches his wrist as he wildly gesticulates, stopping him in his tracks. An instant urge to wrench his hand free is calmed by the gentle brush of metal as he lets go anyway, without any prompting. “Worried?”

“...Well-”

“About Viego?”

“About you.”

The confession is too drawn out, too heartfelt, too much, and the instant it finishes he abruptly turns around to kill himself with the the knife still on the cutting board out of embarrassment. Unfortunately, he doesn’t even bleed, and now he needs to wash the knife again.

“Always so melodramatic.”

“What do you expect? Hello? I’m a star. It’s in the job description.”

“No, you’re Karthus.”

It means something different, when he says it. People will say that about him and he’ll say no, I’m Karthus with the unspoken I’m more than a star lingering in the tone and the presence. He wears his name as a title, in some ways, as The Karthus, The Pentakill Lead Singer, The One and Only. Kayle does it too, but she did it before even joining as an angel.

When it comes from the low, vague notes of Mordekaiser’s voice, it means something different. He says it more delicately, like it is a banner but it’s made of thin, tattered cloth, and if you thumb at it too hard it’ll tear into pieces. When he says it, it sounds distinctly like he’s talking to a human who could be torn asunder in a moment, but without any of the condescension one might expect. More like a dragon protecting its horde, which just so happens to be oh so fragile.

“I am.”

The big hunk of metal reaches out a hand, and Karthus stops trying to resist anymore. He takes it, lets himself be pulled up into strong, comforting arms, that are always somehow cold when he’s overheating from the summer and warm when he’s in need of something to remind himself what it is to live. It must be intentional, he thinks vaguely, hazy as his perception as he cuddles up to the helmet and plants kisses on the sides in an attempt to be cute enough to earn real kisses.

It’s the one thing he’ll take off, that helmet. He doesn’t like to, because his voice becomes much clearer and his uncharacteristic shyness visible, but he does sometimes. Usually for Karthus. Actually, always for Karthus, except for the one time everyone was drunk playing truth or dare.

There’s a reason the two things combined were banned after just one time.

Apparently he gets his wish, because Morde rumbles to be careful and tilts his head forward, and as gently as he can Karthus removes the thing. It’s not very gently, mind, because it is very heavy and hard to carry at all, but he manages and it tumbles onto the kitchen island as he admires the handsome face in front of him and dives in for more kisses.

They could have anyone, Morde often thinks. Though he’s not one to mingle with fans, if he did he knows he could get just about any one of them. Karthus could too, and it’s surprising that he doesn’t- surprising that, when Morde asked if he’d be happy just being with him, knowing the man’s fickle nature, his only question was, “Does it count if Olaf and I have a one night stand?”

Other bands, before they all died out, used to do that sort of thing constantly. It was a huge problem, because a lot of fans actually found that an enticing part of the performance, but none of them seemed to consider that the gods didn’t consider it a very important part, and struck them down as their one or two hits gave way to mediocre or terrible next performances.

No time to think about that, though, because there is a pair of very demanding lips on his.

Now, normally Mordekaiser would be more careful about these things. Though everyone knows they’re a bit of an item, he doesn’t like showing off as much as his partner, so he carefully scouts around and when no one is nearby, he might steal away a moment or two. More ideally, he makes sure everyone is busy- if he can hear Kayle and Olaf practicing, Yorick practicing outside, then the coast is clear. Sona’s never walked in on them, even when she wants something in the room, with her strange sixth (seventh? eighth? he’s pretty sure she’s omniscient or something) sense.

He did not do that this time, so when Kayle bursts through the door only to go, “Can you two stop for a sec to tell me if the food’s ready?” he visibly flinches.

Karthus, for his part, has proud and vaguely dopey smile on his face when he responds, “I don’t know, you got eyes?”

She does, considering she rolls them and stalks over to check the pot. “It’s boiling.”

“Okay?”

“...So is it ready?”

“How do you not know?”

“It looks ready.”

“Then?”

“It probably is?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re the one who put it on?”

“And? I’m not the one looking at it.”

“Listen, Sona just woke up and I’m not letting her go back to sleep without some food.”

“Then take the food.”

“But what if it isn’t done?”

“Then check!”

Mordekaiser drops his boyfriend (earning a very annoyed whine), puts on his helmet, and looks. The soup is almost boiling over, and some of the cabbage looks almost overcooked. “More than done,” he rumbles. “You can take it.”

“Good.”

--

damn they kissin also I fully blame tumblr for this, I saw a post about these two and had never considered it beforehand but it's such a nice pairing

~Eve626

[moldy-mold]

Hello! It’s already May... Life updates - a roller coaster of emotions

A tempestuous, tearful April... Aghh the struggle has not eased up a bit. Living is just too expensive to be shouldered by part-time wages, meager freelance, and fickle confidence. My parents are disappointed - I’ve always tried to dodge the questions about my uncertain future. After all, I don’t have any answers.

What nearly broke my spirit was the humiliating scolding I received on my birthday. “You’re almost 30. Stop playing around at the cafe, don’t you know your bank account is nearly empty? How will you pay for this? If you can’t afford car insurance then just bike to work!” I didn’t even have time to think about how inconsiderate that was. In a daze, I hung up and went to my second part-time job that day.

Well, Dad, those are the questions I asked myself every single day. All I can do is keep trying even if you don’t believe in me. Because, despite everything, I still believe in myself.

Nothing good will come out of asking these punishing questions. I don’t know if things will get better or worse. Just gotta do what I can to get by as a small creature existing in this universe.

I learned to stop blaming myself for not being successful. Given the circumstances, I think the odds are stacked pretty high against most of us right now.

“Banish the nonsense. Some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough.” - Annihilation

--

I’ve begun my investment journey! After studying how it all works I have come to understand the value of investing. It was one of my resolutions for this year and I’m glad I’ve achieved it.

My brother, a crypto enthusiast, knows my monetary plight and has been helping me out in the weirdest ways.

6 am text: “Hey Sis, you got $1000? Put it into Dogecoin... like NOW.”

I don’t like doing these kinds of high-risk-high-reward investments but what the heck, I was desperate. I applied for an account that can trade crypto.

In the end my account got rejected (there was no explanation) and I gave up. Because of course that would happen lol.

--

“Hey, do you have time to talk about the future?” “UM... are we breaking up???” “LOL don’t say it like that!”

My roommate / best friend decided she wanted to move to her own place and find her own way in life. Of course, my fragile heart, still tender from the previous month’s beating, took it very personally. I was reassured it wasn’t my fault - there are plenty of other valid reasons why.

We’ve been sharing an apartment for 6 years now, and although I knew it would happen someday, it was quite shocking to hear it being said to me in reality. At first, I laughed it off because I’ve been dreaming about moving out of the country anyway and it all works out. I’m an introverted, neat-freak, homebody! It’s perfect! But after a very pensive shower, I realized that I’m actually terrified to be without any companionship. Either way, I have to put my feelings aside because I don’t wanna hold her back from her dreams. I may have trouble accepting it now but hopefully I can genuinely be happy for her in time.

--

The Plant Life Please welcome Rokurou, the newest addition to my jungle.

It’s been a few weeks and he totally ate bugs already lol. Nice! I was thinking the smaller traps wouldn’t catch anything, but it turns out they’ve been doing the most work. The larger traps can’t catch ants or tiny gnats. They just crawl out after the trap snaps shut.

This venus fly trap is rather picky about what water he gets so I’ve been out there collecting rainwater in buckets JUST for him! Kind of a pain, but I will do whatever it takes to keep him alive.

It was a very tiny dream of mine to collect and care for carnivorous plants. If the shop had more varieties, I would probably buy them all.

--

I thought I was gonna die... Hostess for a day. One day while working at the cafe, this old Chinese man came in asking how much I made here. Then he told me if I work as a hostess/front desk person at his restaurant (which was next to the cafe, by the way), he will pay me more than the cafe. He slipped me $5 to go see him after my shift at 9pm. It was soooooo sketch. But I went anyway to at least hear him out after telling my roommate and my parents where I was going. You know... in case I die.

Luckily I didn’t die. It was a normal Chinese restaurant. I met the staff and they were all super cool and the mysterious old man goes by Mr. Lin.

Mr. Lin was very chill about it. He said I can have a trial run after my bakery shift on Saturday. If I don’t like it, I can just tell him no and he will pay me for my time.

I knew it was a bad idea to take another shift after a long shift at the cafe but I did it anyway. It was BUSY. Too busy for anyone to teach me how to be a hostess so I literally just had to guess what I’m supposed to be doing. It was kinda obvious though, showing people to their tables. I picked them at random bc I didn’t know if there was a method to seating people or not.

There are three different menus: Chinese, Korean and English and they’re ALL different. Depending on the nationality of who walks in, I have to decide for myself which menu to hand out. Uhhhhh despite being Asian myself, I cannot tell the difference between Korean and Chinese people lmao so I have to keep awkwardly asking people which menu they want. *screams*

The manager, Vincent, is so OP though. He knows exactly which menu to get every time. I was like HOW DO YOU KNOW?? He only responded with “working in the business for 24 years.”

Anyway, it was a long and confusing night of people thinking I am a waitress and me not knowing where the spoons are. But I don’t think this job is for me, even if it pays a lot.

There sure is plenty of demand for part-time food service workers and zero demand for full-time graphic designers... sigh. My journey doing random jobs in 2021 continues.

--

My brother graduated pharmacy school last week. In our culture, the older sibling’s shoulders is where all the expectations should rest. Maybe in another AU I would feel small and inferior to my younger and more successful sibling. But I don’t feel anything like that. In fact, if he can take care of my parents while I’m trying to figure out my own life, then I’m just more grateful to him. Maybe my parents don’t expect anything of me anymore, which is okay. Either way, my brother and I have each other’s backs.

--

Berseria I went into it with ZERO expectations because of its infamous predecessor, but I have come out pleasantly surprised. I liked it more than I thought. I’m at the end but I’m not done with the story yet.

I remember expressing my utter confusion about Zesty and everyone was like “play Berseria, it will answer a majority of your questions.” And boy, it did and I’m so glad. I loved all the throwbacks and references and lore that had to do with the previous game. Like, they really had something interesting going on here but it never quite came to fruition last time.

Is it just me, or did it take a very long time to understand all the battle mechanics? Like... I didn’t get the hang of the game until we got to Meirchio. Now I am quite good at playing Rokurou, my main. And it feels way more fun. I usually like mage characters in the old tales games but tbh I wasn’t really into it this time.

After we finish Bersy, we will be moving on to Xillia 2, our final Tales game! Gaius, I’m coming for you.

--

Xenoblade At the same time, I am also finishing up Xenoblade after spending nearly a year on it. I have weeks where I’m just grinding the side quests to unlock the skill trees. When I’m down, traveling and exploring in this game puts my worries to rest. Really though, the maps are so beautiful... And the music! T_T

This is one of the few games where I like every character pretty much equally, though Dundun and Riki win by just a little bit.

--

That’s it for now. Thanks for being here!

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (CH.16)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill (There’s Wesker & William Bromance too lol). Rated M for smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 16: Mine

Warning: this chapter contains lots of smut. You’ve been warned, okay? Okay! :P Because of this, only the first section of the chapter is available on Tumblr. Please follow the link to AO3 to read the rest. Thank you! :)

Okay, she knew her luck had taken a big dump recently, but this was ridiculous! If she thought the university job was difficult, she promptly changed her mind. That was a walk in the park compared to this. Claire stared at all the people. The exquisite party was happening at the ritzy Orient Restaurant on the second floor of the most luxurious hotel in the city, Central Hotel.

There had to be close to a hundred people here! The whole restaurant was closed to cater for the invitation-only event. Why did she even assume this “Christmas Party” was going to be just a group of rich, old dudes bragging all night? With how her luck has been, she should've known better!

Claire gaped at the man beside her who was unfortunately the closest thing she had to a friend at the moment. She recalled William’s little “briefing” on the drive over here.

“The party’s not gonna be that big. Just a simple “get in, get out”. You’ll be home in no time! Actually, you’ll probably be at Al’s home in no time!”

He was still rubbing his arm where she decked him.

“This is nothing like how you explained it!” she hissed.

But the mad scientist only half-heard her, his eyes lit up as though he was a kid about to enter his very first amusement park. Something in here was on his kill list because Claire overheard he wasn’t a stranger to parties, at least not to parties like this that could get him something he wanted. 

William was actually quite handsome all cleaned up in his suit. Claire had grown accustomed to his usual disheveled appearance that made him attractive in his own way.

He grinned slyly. “Oh relax, sweetheart. You’ll be fine. Most of these people are total bores…losers just out trying to feel important. They got nothing on you!” He winked at her. “You know what to do, who to find. Ada’s on your earpiece and Al and I are here to watch your back. Don’t worry. Al _definitely _won’t let you out of his sight. Just…don’t distract him too much. I need him focused tonight.”

“Are you fu-”

“Erica!” William nearly squealed, waving both arms and abruptly abandoning her. “Is that gown designed by Broca’s aphasia? Because I’m speechless!” 

Claire glared at the fickle bastard as he ditched her to join some other people standing around talking and drinking. She was on her own for now.

“Forget about him, Claire. Just focus on getting to Bennett. Best not drag this out longer than we have to and risk exposing ourselves,” Ada said on her earpiece.

“Okay,” she mumbled, and got into character, her natural Redfield bravado and assurance making it easy to stroll through the party like she owned the place.

It was a beautiful Asian restaurant. Most of the dark tables were accented with candles and glasses. The lounge-like chairs were colorful and comfy, and the tall ceilings gave way to soft LED string lights, oriental paintings and sectioned lattices. In warmer seasons, the same kind of setup could be seen on the massive balcony, but it was currently closed off.

She felt many eyes on her as she started her objective. But she only cared about one set of eyes as she discreetly scanned the place for them.

This many people here was both a blessing and a curse for her mission, and it could go either way real quick at any time. More people meant no room for mistakes, too many eyes. But on the other hand, this many people distracted amongst themselves could make it easy to get away with nearly anything.

Claire soon found the eyes she had been seeking, felt the familiar, pleasing burn on her skin they always caused. She traced them to an area with more people, where a grand, gold statue of Lord Yama sat. Directly in front of the god of death, Wesker was encircled by a small group, mostly beautiful women, and he charmed them effortlessly.

The younger Redfield had to keep herself from staring, also charmed by his chameleon smile, good looks, and striking black suit. Her nerves tingled from simmering blood. She couldn’t believe it. She was actually jealous?! Claire was angry with herself. How could she possibly feel anything of the sort over the man that was blackmailing her?

Besides...she knew Wesker well enough by now to know that it was all pretense. She was sickened and enthralled by how easily he could deceive and influence people. Ada was right. His calculating mind, his clever tongue, those were his deadliest weapons; not his hands, not his gun.

The statue of Yama was simply a backdrop to the true god of death in the room. His admirers probably had no clue and listened intently. The women batted their eyes, pushed out their chests, even the ones who had dates. And those men did nothing about it, perhaps too enthralled themselves or maybe it was the fact that Wesker had an uncanny ability to make most men around him submissive.

He may have looked like he was paying attention to them, his eyes concealed behind black shades, but Claire knew he was watching her. All of her. Every breath, every step, he was in complete tune. Something about that lit a fire in her belly so fierce, she trembled.

The jealousy she felt instantly crumbled. It didn’t matter if those women were rich or prettier or dressed in nicer dresses. They meant nothing to him. Not like she did.

And why was that, exactly?

Claire frowned, faltering mid-step, eyes still locked on Wesker across the room when she should've been moving on. She had some suspicions, if her gut and Ada and William were anything to go by. 

More importantly, why do you care?

“Claire?! Earth to Claire, hello?”

“Huh?”

“You aren’t exactly being inconspicuous staying in one spot drooling over Albert.”

Claire’s face flushed and she briskly walked away with a huff. “I’m not drooling!”

The first place she needed to check for her target would be the bar. Typical. It was in the back of the restaurant, low-lit, a massive, semi-circled bar with a marble countertop up against an airbrushed wall depicting a dragon floating through the clouds.

“Whatever you say, hun.”

Claire bit her tongue, taking a deep breath. “I was just happy to see him chatting up other women. Less problems for me.”

Ada sighed. “Claire, fishing is beneath you. First, they aren’t his type. More importantly, Albert detests easy women.”

That wasn’t her intention. “I wasn’t-”

“Unfortunately and fortunately for you, you are his type and are as difficult as they come. I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but you’re as close to obsession as he’s going to get romantically.”

The only fortune she could come up with was that it was unlikely Wesker would kill her. But obsession through people with sociopathic and psychopathic tendencies like Wesker were never a good thing. Her life might be spared at the end of all this...but at what cost?

Claire briskly pushed that thought aside, something cold and heavy dropping in the pit of her stomach. She needed to focus on finding Bennett and getting this over with. That was her excuse. After all, she wasn’t ready to acknowledge that her own growing infatuation would likely veer her into her captor’s arms for good.

She looked around the bar area. There were all kinds of high-status people attending Bard’s Christmas party. Doctors, politicians, city officials, even Mayor Warren and Chief Irons were here.

She recognized Mueller from Raccoon University having a casual conversation with the man that had to be her target. A picture was never granted, but a detailed description allowed her to quickly analyze him. It had to be him. Tall, average build, auburn hair and an anchor beard. He chatted with Mueller with a drink in his hand.

Just as Claire stepped their way, a strong grip snatched her wrist. She was spun around, coming face-to-face with Nathaniel Bard. He looked fine since the anaphylaxis she put him through with the shrimp, but the creep wasn't happy one bit with her, still keeping a painful grip on her arm.

"I knew I'd see your face again, girl. What happened at the university is all your fault."

Claire glared at him. "You're gonna be hurting more if you don't let me go right now."

The music and all the guests chatting around them helped conceal her threat from eavesdropping ears but the Spencer Memorial doctor heard her clearly.

He considered challenging her, lips pursing, but soon let her go after his eyes scanned the numerous faces within the party. "I know you're working with those two bastards. You have no idea how much harm you’ve caused me and several of my colleagues. Lowery was a good man, understand? He had a family. And now I’m trapped doing those two psychos’ bidding.”

“Maybe you aren’t the only one who is trapped.”

“Well then there’s more to your pretty face, isn’t there? They wouldn’t risk it otherwise.”

Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Claire clenched a fist, as it took all of her willpower not to break his damn nose. She had a job to do here. If she caused a scene in the middle of this party, especially with the man hosting it, then she could kiss her freedom and potentially Chris’s life goodbye.

She did let him in on what he was narrowly missing out on by grabbing his hand and twisting it slightly, squeezing hard on a pressure point. Just enough to make it really hurt, just enough to get her point across while looking like she was just holding his hand to nearly everyone else. “If my life didn’t hinge on fulfilling this job, you’d be on the floor with a broken fucking face, do you understand me?”

“Damn, Claire. I like your style,” Ada chimed in.

The younger Redfield ignored her and smiled, showing the guests they were having a pleasant conversation. Bard hissed in pain, quickly nodding. Claire released him and he jerked his hand away, shaking it off with a grimace.

“Listen, I’ll make the job easy for you. Just...do what you need to do and get out of here. Take those assholes with you. And never show your face at one of my social events ever again.”

“I’d love to, but it’s not my call. But...I have a feeling you know exactly who you can talk to about that.”

Bard scowled, rubbing his injured hand. He muttered something under his breath and motioned her to follow him, heading towards Bennett and Mueller in the back of the bar. “C’mon, and follow my lead.”

“Ugh, he better not screw this up.”

Bard put on a welcoming smile once they reached Mueller and Bennett’s table. Mueller recognized her, but didn’t say anything. She barely got a moment’s glare from him before he flashed Bard a guarded look, as if asking “what are you up to now?” The two men stood and the doctor shook their hands.

“Mr. Bennett! I trust you are enjoying the party? What kind of host would I be if I was neglecting my honored guest?”

He looked to be in his thirties maybe. His smile was warm as he nodded. He noticed Claire nearly right away, and there was a definite reaction of some kind. Attraction, she guessed, immediate infatuation. Great…

“Oh yes,” he said in a European accent. “I am grateful to you and Greg’s hospitality. You’ve made being so far from home much more bearable.”

“Good, good! It’s a shame your business partner couldn’t join us this evening. But I’m sure he had his reasons. You two are busy men, after all!”

Bennett nodded, composed yet amiable. “That we are. I’m sorry, but I have to ask, who is this beautiful young lady you have with you?”

Bard didn’t skip a beat in his front, presenting her with a grin like she was a piece of treasure up for auction.

“I know, stunning right? This is Elza. She’s one of my...assistants.”

The European man held out his hand with a handsome, friendly smile. It could’ve fooled anyone, and it almost fooled her. But her gut constricted at the last moment, her first indication something wasn’t right about this guy.

He took her hand and kissed it softly. “It is my utmost pleasure, Miss Elza. I’m Stephan Bennett. Please, just call me Stephan.”

Claire put on the sweetest smile she could muster, batting her lashes. “The pleasure’s all mine, Stephan.”

He looked her over, and although he was an attractive man, it made her skin crawl.

“Has Greg taken you up to your suite yet?” Bard asked cordially. “I’ve left you a little treat as a thank you for choosing to stay the night in Raccoon City’s famous Central Hotel!” 

Bennett ripped his eyes from Claire and shook his head at the host. “No, sir. I got the keycard to the room earlier, but wanted to check out the party before retreating for the night.” He presented a friendly, almost sheepish smile. “Honestly, I’m still a little messed up with the time zone changes. I didn’t think it would affect me this much.”

“That’s not a problem. My assistant and I will escort you up there. There’s a little bit of business I’d like to discuss with you anyway,” Bard replied.

“What about your party?”

“Eh, they’ll entertain themselves! Greg will take care of things while I’m gone. It won’t be but a few minutes.” Bennett glanced at Claire, expression unreadable, and Bard quickly added. “My assistant is completely trustworthy, don’t worry. She knows about our research.”

Bennett nodded, relieved. “Alright, lead the way, Nathaniel.”

Claire was uncertain what to do as Mueller shook hands with Bennett and bid them good night before heading for the bar. Her job was to stick a bug on the European businessman, probably so Wesker and William could track him straight to Aaron Roth. Leaving the party just tossed her whole plan into the garbage. This just got way riskier.

Nothing like winging a mission where my life’s literally at stake. What’s the worst that can happen?

“Great,” Ada whispered in her ear, not helping Claire’s gut feeling. “Wesker’s watching and listening through your piece. He says it’s fine. Just get that bug on Bennett without him knowing.”

Was that supposed to make her feel better that Wesker said it was fine? And how exactly was he able to do that anyway? That just made her earlier conversation with Ada a lot more awkward...

With a slight tick of her jaw, Claire composed herself with a friendly smile and followed the two men out of the restaurant and into the fancy, historical hotel.

They went to the lobby, a grand room with high ceilings, bright lights, and expensive carpet and decor. The elevator ride to the fifth floor seemed extra crowded, even though there were just three of them. Bard and Bennett chatted normally about their lives and careers. Claire didn’t like the frequent glances Bennett gave her. She waited for an opportunity, stayed vigilant with that inkling sprouting in her gut.

It got worse when Ada told her she lost visual on her from their location.

Wesker’s making you do this alone because he wants to see how you do, said a small voice in the back of her head. She didn’t have proof, but she wouldn’t put it past him.

She gave vague answers when Bennett asked her something, either curious and flirting or digging and deceiving. She wasn’t exactly sure.

Bennett scanned his card and held the door open to the big, two-bedroom suite. Bard strolled right on in but Claire hesitated, not wanting to put her back to these men. When she did, she felt his eyes all over her, and when he closed the door, he purposely brushed her to get by.

They stepped into the spacious living room first, accented with a bar and impressive kitchen. There was a home theater set up in the den, opposite a wall of glass that displayed downtown Raccoon City. Dark buildings silhouetted within soft glows of lights of all colors. Speckles of white rained down softly outside.

“You meant it when you said this suite had a view,” Bennett stated, drawn to the panorama.

Bard gave her a look, dipped his head in the direction of his “guest”, as if urging her to get her business done. Claire glared at him as he turned off to the bar instead.

“Yes, I did! And over here, something just for you, Mr. Bennett. Your favorite wine. All the way from home!”

“I don’t like this. Are you okay? Cough if you are.”

“How thoughtful of you, Dr. Bard. Thank you. You’ve gone out of your way to make me feel at home here.”

Claire didn’t like it either. She looked around, keeping up her appearance as she joined the men at the bar. She didn’t see any danger, but something like it was lurking about. Whatever it was, she was fine for now.

She coughed. “Oh, excuse me.”

Bennett watched her more than Bard, but she still couldn’t read his expression. Bard took the fancy bottle out of the container of ice. “Shall we have a glass while we talk?”

“Yes. I’d like that.”

That clicked an idea in her brain. Claire put a hand on Bard’s arm, mustering up the realest fake friendly smile she could handle, looking between the two men under thick lashes. “How about you gentlemen take a seat, get comfortable? Let me serve you.”

Bennett’s smile held something darker, but it was gone in a flash. Bard looked at her funny, but composed himself and slowly put the wine down on the counter. “Of course, Elza! You’re always the sweetest thing! Come, Stephan, over here.”

“What do you have planned, exactly?” Ada asked. “Ugh, I hate going by sound alone.”

Her cohorts had lied to her, she realized. William promised Wesker wouldn’t let her out of his sight and Ada said she would watch over her. Wesker didn’t say much to her before the party, but disclosed if she did what she was told, she would be fine. She was alone here and certainly felt something other than “fine” was coming her way.

The doctor and his guest went to the lounge chairs nearby, sitting across from each other. It was the perfect way for Claire to bug Bennett without him knowing. She opened the white wine and poured their glasses, giving them time to get settled in their seats and start talking. The more distracted they were, the better. It also gave her a moment to get the tiny tracking device ready.

The younger Redfield served Bennett first. She caressed her fingers up his arm, across his shoulder, stopped at the back of his neck, squeezing his collar gently. Her flirtatious smile was enough to distract him from Bard when she handed him his drink. She didn’t remain long, crossing to Bard and giving him his drink with the same smile, the same caress that made her skin crawl. She left them and returned to the bar, gathering up the wine bottle and ice bucket and placing them on the table in between the two men.

Claire eavesdropped on their conversation, but a lot of it made no sense to her. Big research, Sheena and Rockfort Island, Roth, Ashfords, prototypes, T-series. All similar topics that Wesker and William discussed and were involved with.

“You know, it’s strange how all of our business associates keep coming up dead or missing since we’ve been in town,” Bennett said after a long sip of his wine.

Bard grew quiet, confused, his fingers clenching around his wine glass. “What…do you mean?”

The European man looked at Claire, like he knew all of her secrets, not near as charming now. “You know what happened to them...don’t you, Miss Walker? Or should I call you Miss Redfield?”

Claire stiffened, nails digging into the chair arms. She dared not blink, glaring at him, keeping calm, but reeling underneath on how to react. He knew her name. Her _real _name.

Shit!

“Shit!” Ada echoed in her ear. “Claire, don’t do anything rash. Hang in there.”

It wasn’t as though she had much of a choice. She was on her own. Bard’s alarmed face told her everything. He was just as surprised as her, but would be too much of a coward to help her.

Claire took a deep breath. “I don’t know what happened to them.”

“I think Dr. Lowery would say otherwise.”

“How do you know my real name?”

The European businessman crossed one leg casually, swishing the wine in his glass, sharp eyes on her. “All it took was a little digging. You really shouldn’t use your mother’s maiden name as an alias, darling. Especially one as unique as hers.”

Cold steel bumped the back of her head. A gun.

Wesker had told her the same thing. Warned her.

She was careless to use it after not being prepared at the university. Now she was in real danger. The other wolves that Wesker claimed he was protecting her from had stalked her right into a corner. Then again, maybe he wasn’t expecting _this _pack. Or maybe he had and was ready to give her up as tribute for his own motives…

“Uh, Stephan, what’s going on, is t-this necessary?” Bard asked.

“Quiet, or you’ll have one to your head also.” Bennett motioned for Claire to stand. “My business partner, Aaron, would like to speak to you one-on-one, Miss Redfield. You have the time, right? You can help fill the gaps on what’s been happening to our dealings. We’re getting warm, but it seems as though everyone is too afraid to give us answers. Whoever you’re working for, we’ll cut you a nice deal if you expose them.”

Claire kept his gaze, defiant, silent. She had no choice but to comply. She had no weapons on her, no way to hide one in this dress. She slowly moved her hands down to her sides, preparing to push herself up, and felt it. The cold, metal coil of a corkscrew. She forgot she had brought it with her while serving the drinks.

Snatching it up between her fingers, she stood. The man who had the gun to her head pulled her out away from the chair. Bennett rose from his seat, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass down.

Bard shot up as well, looking between Claire and his guest, panicking. “Wh-What are you doing?”

There were two other men in suits now. They must’ve been hiding in the suite this whole time. Although they didn’t have weapons drawn, they were probably packing like the one behind her.

“Nathaniel, lying to me that she is your assistant? After what happened to Simon, I’m shocked. Someone’s got you cowering and afraid, just like Greg. Just like our friend the Police Chief.”

“I-It’s n-not what you think.”

Bennett nodded to the other men. They grabbed Bard by the arms, containing him. The European man pulled a gun equipped with a silencer from his suit jacket.

The doctor fought his captors. “Wait! No!”

Claire stabbed the man behind her in the groin with the corkscrew. He cried out as she spun, disarming him and shoving him away where he tumbled to the floor. She grabbed the bottle of wine and threw it at Bennett’s head just as he switched his gun on her. The bottle shattered on his face.

She didn’t get far with running. Not in that dress, not in those heels, before she was snatched by his men. A bash above her temple instantly made the world spin. Still, she fought, as weak as she suddenly felt.

Bennett was soaked, his face earning a few gashes from broken glass, blood mixing with golden-colored wine. He cursed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He grabbed her neck, squeezing hard.

“You little bitch! You’re lucky Aaron wants to speak with you, or you’d be dead!”

That’s when his arm snapped. Like a twig. He screamed. Claire, her vision still hazy from the blow to her head, realized he was attacked. His men were attacked; she was let go. A few blinks and she saw Wesker using some sort of martial arts to swiftly dispose of them. Not Bennett though. He raced away to his escape while holding his limp arm that flopped uselessly as he ran.

The STARS Captain had killed the other three. In seconds. With his hands. He paused, looking to the door where Bennett had fled, as if deciding whether to pursue him. He was over it in seconds though, grabbing her and pulling her to him. Not as rough as she had expected, but gentle wasn’t really in his nature.

“Hold still,” he commanded. She felt his hand on her head. He must’ve been examining the clout she had received. “Are you alright?”

There was some blood on his hand when he withdrew it, and she felt it trickling in her hair. It must’ve been just a small cut, otherwise it would’ve been all over her face by now.

“Yeah,” she said. And she was. It had only made her light-headed for a minute or so.

The nearby chair squeaked as it scooted on the carpet, and a muffled curse came from the other side. Wesker finally looked away from her, jaw clenching. He marched over to the furniture and kicked it. The chair crashed and skidded several feet away. Wesker seized Bard by the collar and picked him up, slamming him into the nearby bar counter. The sound his body made hitting the granite countertop made her flinch, and Bard’s yelp confirmed it.

“Wesker, wait, please! I d-didn’t know! I didn’t! I swear! He was gonna kill me too!”

“He was,” Claire confirmed. 

She had no idea why she defended the asshole, especially when he didn’t offer her any help before. But she could tell he was telling the truth. Wesker paused, but didn’t look at her, probably contemplating what to do with the doctor as he shuddered in his hands.

“Consider your...contract extended indefinitely,” Wesker growled, and shoved him over the other side of the bar. He put a couple fingers up to his ear, the same hidden piece she had. “Ada, William, we’re finished here. Ada, track Bennett. William, tell Irons he has a mess to clean up with Bard and Mueller.”

Bard got to his feet, shaken, his surprised eyes finding hers. The younger Redfield glared at him, a silent message he understood. She had spared him a cruel fate from the Devil. But she wouldn’t do it again.

She returned her gaze to the three bodies around her feet. The one she stabbed with the corkscrew had a snapped neck. The other two looked as though they had suddenly dropped dead, nothing to attribute to the hands of the STARS Captain. But she had seen it with her own eyes. And although it shouldn’t have, it lit a fierce fire in her lower belly, spreading when his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her towards the door.

The flames were fanned when he whispered in her ear, his hand squeezing her hip. “You did exceptionally well, dear heart. You make me proud.”

When Ada told her Wesker would want to take her home after seeing her in her dress, she had denied wanting him to, denied she wanted to go home with him willingly. But after what she saw, how he held her close to him like she was his, and his alone, how his breath upon her ear titillated her, made her receptive to him only, she could no longer deny it.

Claire wouldn’t be able to stand the drive there. She wanted him. Wanted him to take her. She was a liar; it wasn’t just a one-time fling or a mistake. It was going to happen again. And she wanted it to, and would do nothing to stop it.

[mercyxkilling]

[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you...

@chronicparagon​ said: [If it’s not too late, my url please?] -- oh my darling, it’s never too late to send me memes, even if i reblogged them years ago (though if they’re really old you’ll probably have to send me the context lmao; i have the worst memory in the fucking world!)

[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you the following;

my opinion on;

character in general: harmony, harmony, harmony... i mean, the girl’s name says it all! she’s such a sweet and wonderful girl from what i’ve gotten to see of her. she’s so accepting of others, so open-minded, and so ready to rush into action if it means she can save another person. mercy is such a bad influence and i’m almost worried for her when she and harmony interact, not that i don’t think that the other woman can’t think and act for herself or formulate her own opinions, of course! it’s just that i worry that there could be so much friction there and that’s the last thing i want for an OC like harmony that i truly, truly adore and feel like deserves better... in fact, i think that beautiful girl deserves the best things in life alone tbh. (i wish that i’d drawn her better a while ago, but now that i have my tablet hooked up and now that i have photoshop... maybe i’ll get you a better sketch this time around, yeah? :3c) how they play them: this is always kind of a hard question to answer when it comes to OCs since they aren’t canon or have something i can base their portrayal off of and be like ‘oh yeah, it’s true to game/movie/comic/whatever’ or something like that. but i really can say that i enjoy the way you play harmony, everything down to her fear of fire, to her pride of her heritage, her love and kindness, and the way that she strives to help others. closed-minded people are so quick to write off a female OC with a kind heart when those kinds of characters have SO MUCH to offer the creative writing world, and i’m so glad you’re here and that you’re apart of it, sharing what you do with all of us. it’s truly a joy to see, you know? the mun: when i’ve posted stuff that, unfortunately, has sometimes been on the negative side, you’re one of the first people to slip into my IMs and ask me how i’m doing, offer me advice, and talk me down, or at least into a more manageable mood. now i’m not saying that others don’t do that for me, too, but... i mean, because we don’t talk a whole lot or interact ic very much (and that is ALL my fault btw because my muse is a fickle fucking bitch... and because i’m SO afraid that mercy will clash with harmony because of her awful personality--at least depending on the point in her narrative we’re at) you’re still almost ALWAYS at the forefront sending me supportive messages to bring me up and to get my feet back on the ground when it sometimes can seem impossible depending on the situation. you’re such an amazing person and i feel like people (including myself) don’t remind you of that or tell you that often enough. so thank you for... simply being who you are.

do i;

follow them: of course i do!! rp with them: we have exchanged ic things here and there, but not nearly enough. i want to change that soon, but as i’ve stated above, i do have my reservations. nothing to do with you or harmony at all!! it’s just mercy. but i do owe you a starter, and i plan on getting to that very soon! want to rp with them: bitch you bet your sweet ass i do. ship their character with mine: i mean, sure? if it happens then it’ll happen! familial-like bonds, platonic bonds, enemies, frenemies, actual lovers... who knows!? there’s room for all kinds of things and i would welcome them all as they happened!

what is my;

overall opinion: my god i adore you, i adore harmony, i adore the thought that you’ve put into her background and development, i love seeing you on my dash, and i look forward to seeing even more of you in the future. i hope you’re not too upset with me for having sat on a ton of asks that you’ve sent me in the past, but just know that i still have them and i still plan on answering them eventually! you mean a lot to me and i’m not about to just throw them out because ‘i wasn’t feeling it’ at the time you sent them to me. and honestly? if you’ll have me? i’d love to have lots of interaction with you in the future. :3c

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty.

[thefightingbull]

My Love Will Never Die

“My love, my love, my fearless love,” Jason Todd sang softly to himself as he whirled a crowbar in his hands. “I will not say goodbye. Sea may rise, sky may fall. My love will never die.”

He snickered to himself as he moved down the hallway and back to his home. He knew what was awaiting him in the safe house he’d created for himself on the fifteenth floor of a rotted building. It had long since been condemned but demolition was halted when some crazy asshole bought it.

Jason knew what Slade Wilson, his beloved soulmate, would try once he arrived to that nicely furnished little apartment. There would be explosives, but they might as well be fireworks for all Jason cared. They needed to talk. They needed to be near one another. They needed to see with their own three combined eyes that they were both breathing.

“Go on, go on, go bravely on,” he sang louder to let his paramour know he was close. “Into the blackest night. Hold my breath ‘til your return. My love will never die.”

When Jason reached the door he banged twice, metal on metal echoing loudly down the empty hall and in the place he’d called home since he beat Joker to death with a crow bar. There wasn’t a sound, but that was okay. Slade was a professional after all. He wouldn’t give himself away by doing something silly like leaping or crying out in alarm.

Even if he was surprised.

“My heart, my heart, my drowning heart. Oh, all the tears I’ve cried,” Jason continued as he gently opened the door. He looked straight ahead at the sight of a maskless Deathstroke and smiled softly. “Oh, I may weep forevermore. My love will never die.”

Slade didn’t appear disturbed or impressed by Jason’s love song. Pity. He knew the man’s enhancements well enough to believe he’d heard the bulk of it. Even if Slade hadn’t been enhanced, Jason didn’t doubt for one second that there wasn’t a feed of information being transmitted to him with any sound made in the apartment.

Jason’s dearest love was too good at what he did to miss a chance at Jason’s return.

“How many times have you died?” Slade asked.

That caught Jason off guard as he tilted his head. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s more than the once. How many times, Jason?”

He cocked his head to the opposite side as he counted. He even counted the times the others hadn’t known about; that Slade hadn’t heard of even after they consummated their bond.

“It can’t possibly hurt for me to know, Jason,” Slade said.

“Do you wish me to count the night last Halloween when you ran me through with your sword?”

There would be no physical tell as to whether or not his words had struck the man’s heart, but it didn’t matter. Jason peered down at the red ribbon on his left arm. It was no longer on his left ring finger, but rather, wrapped about his wrist. Duty. Obligation. Love, too, but not with the same devotion they’d both felt for one another the night he’d begged Slade to kill him. He didn't need Slade to show off his own left hand to know that Jason's ribbon was still happily tied to the assassin's left hand. Jason wasn't nearly as fickle as Slade.

“Tell me what I want to know!”

“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Jason grinned.

Deathstroke took a step forward, it was probably meant to be threatening, but it just made Jason hard with desire. “Jason,” he said with a soft patience that reminded them both of better times. “Tell me.”

Jason sauntered closer and looked over his handsome soulmate. That shaggy white hair, the goatee to match, it did things to him still. The armor was always sexy. Black and orang provided a contrast that was nearly as violent as Slade himself. That was something else that drove Jason wild with need. Slade's ability to kill without remorse. To spill blood at will. 

“You think you’ve learned something?” Jason asked. “Do you think you know the secret?”

Slade gritted his teeth, an obvious show of impatience that he fully meant for Jason to see. The master of control wouldn’t have done something so human if he could at all help it. Unless of course it was meant to be seen that he was losing his patience. It would be the only warning Jason got before a full-fledged fight erupted between the two of them. Really, that wasn't something he didn't look forward to, but not yet. Not until they'd talked.

“Six,” Jason whispered as he shuddered. “Six including last Halloween.”

The man before him looked horrified. “How?”

“My love, my love, my fearless love, I will not say goodbye,” Jason sang again. He looked his soulmate directly in the eyes and said as meaningful as he could without melody; “Sea may rise. Sky may fall. My love will never die.” He looked his soulmate directly in the eyes and said as meaningful as he could without melody; 

Slade’s brows knitted, but Jason trusted his soulmate’s intelligence and reputation for piecing things together quickly. He twirled the crowbar again as he whistled the song and waited for his soulmate to make the conclusion and then come to a decision based on it.

“This is my fault,” Slade said, but there wasn’t any guilt. His soulmate was too practical for anything like a conscience. “Your soul is bound to mine.”

“My love will never die,” Jason sang in a whisper as his eyes found Slade’s.

“Soulmates die on each other all the time. That doesn’t mean they come back,” Slade growled.

“Hold your breath ‘til my return; your love will never die.”

“Stop it!” Slade hissed.

Jason pouted but he didn’t really mean it. He relished the irritation and panic he was inflicting upon his soulmate. He wanted to feel more. Needed to feel more. But Slade wasn’t giving in. He was giving so little, Jason would take whatever he could get.

“This isn’t natural,” Slade said firmly. “You’re unnatural.”

“No my love,” Jason shook his head as his mood rapidly shifted to rage. “We. We are unnatural. You don’t stay anymore dead than I do!”

He was pleased by the physical tell he knew Slade had not meant to give away. The high pitched screech had caught Deathstroke the Terminator off guard. Jason would savor having made the unblinking man blink. It was too precious to forget.

He laughed merrily.

“Stop it!” Slade shouted the words that time.

“What’s wrong, trying to understand what unholy bond we have that every death I return from leaves me more and more something else?”

“More like someone else,” Slade growled.

Jason gritted his teeth and bit back a hateful reply. “I am not him!”

“Could have fooled me.” Slade smiled sharply and all at once, Jason knew he’d lost the upper hand. “You laugh, you sing, you shout; all the while sounding like a raving lunatic. Joker might have claimed he was an agent of chaos, but the man could at least elucidate when necessary. You appear lost, love.”

 He took a several deep breaths as he tried to calm the rising tide of fury that was building up within him.

“Do you even understand what’s happened to you?” Slade asked, but there was no longer condescension in his tone. His question was in earnest. “Do you, Jason?”

For a moment, Jason saw only his soulmate. He dropped to his knees as the crowbar fell to the carpeted floor with barely a cladder. He felt an intense anguish douse the flames of his rage as he sobbed out in horror. “Why?”

In an instant, strong powerful arms were wrapped about Jason in an odd sort of embrace that managed to keep his arms pinned to his sides. Lips were pressed against his temple, alternating between whispers of assurance, promises of protection, and even tender kisses to seal each hollow vow that they both knew couldn’t be kept.

Jason cried heartily until slowly, his tears ran dry. He sat staring at the carpet with unfocused intent, content to remain pinned by his soulmate. He saw the red. The red that had been caused by his sixth death. He relaxed his body against Slade. He had no intention of fighting as he stared at the large stain. He felt something much harder than lips press to his temple. He wondered if his seventh death would leave as large of a stain.

It would certainly leave more of a splatter.

“I have to try, Jason,” Slade said.

Jason’s eyes moved to his own wrist and he was relieved to see the ribbon had moved back to his scarred left ring finger. Joker had nearly taken it clean off when Jason had brought his hands up to block the crowbar. 

“For you, for your memory, I have to try just once more. Then never again,” Slade muttered, though Jason doubted the words were meant for anyone but the man who'd spoken them.

Jason Todd smiled at the ribbon and it’s return to where it belonged.

“Sea may rise. Sky may fall,” Jason sang before the gun fired. 

My love will never die.

[shandaumath]

A Title Stripped

Lord Shandaumath,

No longer can I stand in the way of your heart’s desire. After a long discussion with Lady Valtieri she has decided that our courting is to end. Her fate is tied to you, not me and her heart was never mine to claim. Many times, you and I sat down and attempted to resolve our differences and many times, you wasted my evening with lies of change. Still, I do not fault you, love is poisonous and fickle. 

I release you from your duty as Inquisitor and wish both you and the Lady Valtieri good fortune. May you both find peace, with each other or otherwise. 

She is yours, once again. Do not lose her this time. Finally, you are rid of me. I congratulate you on your victory.

Vincent Ravenwing Marshal of Duskwood and Marquis of Shadowtalon Hold

A warm cup of tea seethed beside Vynlorin, its steam wisping into the air and sending the rose aroma into the silent study. He hadn’t yet finished his morning routine when the courier arrived with an urgent letter addressed to the lord and bearing the seal of the field marshal, and Vynlorin took it with him into a quiet place where eyes couldn’t pry.

The lord settled into his seat and scanned the words, reading them once, twice, and even a third time as his grin grew wider and wider with every passing. How sweet the justice was that the field marshal who had intruded into his business and had set a wedge between him and Aredhele now discovered that Aredhele was a creature that could not be tamed.

Vynlorin dwelled in his thoughts as the letter lingered in his hand, and even now he caught himself reading it again.

He could feel the field marshal’s scorn. He could feel the ire that took his title away.

Many times, you and I sat down and attempted to resolve our differences and many times, you wasted my evening with lies of change.

Vynlorin huffed with amusement at the words. Wasted his time? Lies of change? Again and again the field marshal had slighted Vynlorin while the ren’dorei simply sat and bided his time. Again and again the field marshal accused Vynlorin of acting against him, but he never once betrayed the man’s loyalty. Vynlorin knew that he had become a scapegoat, a person to point fingers at and blame when the field marshal’s own faults and the faults of his kin came to light.

But still he had grit his teeth and bared it, bowing his head to his superior and doing the duties expected of him.

The field marshal had been greedy and thought he could take Aredhele as a second wife to the one he already had, and when his plans failed, all blame went to Vynlorin. How terrible that the field marshal’s inability to hold love once more was thrown against the innocent lord, yet how proudly the warlock bore the stripping of his title. How sweet it was to be punished this time -- perhaps for the last time, he hoped -- and his thoughts couldn’t help but drift toward Tirian.

Tirian too had been offered a title from the field marshal, and Vynlorin suspected that the knight would keep his because he wasn’t the object of Vincent Ravenwing’s ire.

Vynlorin finally set the letter aside and retrieved his own parchment and pen.

Lord Felo’dorah,

It has come to my attention that our lady in all of her chaotic wonders has broken Lord Ravenwing’s heart. The field marshal has now stripped me of my title of Inquisitor of Duskwood, and I fear that I will no longer be standing beside you as a force over Duskwood proper. I write to you now in hopes that you haven’t met the same punishment I have for our lady’s actions, though I presume the field marshal’s jealousy has no reason to touch you.

As well, I do believe you and I still have unfinished plans for an afternoon of relaxation. Perhaps someday soon you will bring Primrose along to Thornwood to explore all that it has to offer.

Until then, Vynlorin Shandaumath

He set the pen down and read his own words, a devilish smirk dancing triumphantly over his lips. The day hadn’t even started, and he could feel the bliss of everything it had to offer. Certainly he would have to meet with Aredhele later to learn from her own lips what chaos she had stirred this time, but even the worst from her wouldn’t be able to ruin this moment.

The tea was sweeter this morning, and he finished it before it could grow too cold.

Vynlorin stepped out of his study to find the courier who had delivered the letter. Soon he would inform Tirian of their current state of affairs, and then word would trickle through the court of the news that had befallen the former inquisitor.

( @aredhelvaltieri​ @wokeastroke​ )