#spoken like a true monster fucker
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He is precious.
Still prefer the ghoul thou. 🤣
#spoken like a true monster fucker#fallout#fallout prime#walton goggins#cooper howard#ghoul#fallout ghoul#Cowboy
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It is a common joke amongst rogues, mobsters, etc not to make the (occasionally fatal) mistake of hitting on Red Hood, because he --like the rest of Gotham--is clearly "saving himself for Nightwing." However, what few people know is that this is actually true; Jason Todd refuses to consider dating anyone at all except Dick Grayson.
There's not much left of Jason's virtue, but what's there belongs to Dick Grayson.
It's why when someone tries to cop a feel, they quickly find themselves on the wrong side of twin pistols - muzzles pinning the hand that dared to touch him to the bar table while the other waits steady beneath their chin.
Their stuttered gasp as Jason looms over them is pathetic. To spook so easy after talking such a big game, hah!
The rest of the bar is silent. All of Gotham's rogues and baddies know better than to fuck with him, let alone try to fuck him. It's no secret that Red Hood is off limits, that Jason is reserved for a far better man.
Still, it's good to remind these fuckers of that. What message would it give if Jason were to let instances like this slide? He's spoken for, even if Dick hasn't quite picked up on that fact yet. He will, soon enough. And then that monster can scare off Jason's pursuers, himself.
For now though, Jason will deal with it. He tilts his head. Coquettish as he sweeps his leg over the man's lap to straddle him. Jason digs the gun beneath their chin, feels the bob in their throat when they swallow, and pulls the trigger.
They jerk and cry out beneath him, but Jason holds them still. Thighs held around them, body weight keeping them steady. It was just a shot through their hand. More than enough to send a message. Maybe enough to get a certain bird's attention, too, if he's lucky.
"I'm not yours to touch." Jason pats their cheek with the side of his bloodied pistol, tilting their head back with the other before smiling sweetly down at them: teeth bared, sharp and biting. "Try again - see what happens."
It's an open threat. A casual warning; a generous reminder.
The only man that gets to fuck with Red Hood is Nightwing. All these other sorry fools? They can want, but like hell they can touch.
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>open Twitter
>open DMs to send a message to a buddy I haven't spoken to in a while
>there's a shitton of messages that I never got notifications for that I just straight-up missed over the course of A YEAR
>goddamn it Twitter
>this is all Elon Musk's fault
>anyway
>one of them is from the Project Umbrella guys
>remember the big stupid bitchfight I got into with them last year
>oh Jesus what the fuck did they want back then that I missed
>open DM
>HE'S DEFENDING THE RE ARCHIVES
>NO FUCKING WAY LOL
THAT'S NOT WHAT THE RE ARCHIVES SAYS
THIS IS WHAT THE RE ARCHIVES SAYS:
And that's NOT what happens in Leon's RE3 epilogue. THIS is Leon's RE3 epilogue:
Oh but wait!
There's more!
This guy then tries to go on to defend the "Adam Benford kidnapped Leon" argument. Let's see how well his argument holds up.
So let's check his facts. Let's do a search for Jun Takeuchi.
Interesting. So Takeuchi became an executive around 2017. RE6 came out in 2012. So Takeuchi wasn't an executive at the time RE6 was written or released.
In fact
looking at this
Takeuchi didn't work on Resident Evil 6 at all. So... if he didn't work on RE6, then that would make anything he writes about it... fanfiction... wouldn't it? Otherwise, what gives him word of god for RE6's story? The fact that he was employed at the company at the time? Does this mean that any random environmental artist has word of god over the story? Do the Monster Hunter guys have word of god over RE6, too?
And what about Tsukasa Takenaka? Well, he's not even a big enough name to have a Wikipedia page to begin with. In fact, looking him up, it seems like he had a minor hand in writing RE5, produced Revelations 1, and worked on RE: The Mercenaries 3D.
yikes.
Okay, well what about this dude's other claims?
Adam Benford was director of the CIA in 2002 (according ONLY TO that airsoft ad written by the guy who did not work on RE6; this is NOT stated in RE6 itself), and his position in 1998 is unknown -- implying that he was not actually the director of the CIA in 1998. But Leon was kidnapped in 1998 by the CIA. So if he wasn't the director... then I guess he wasn't behind the kidnapping, was he?
Our friend from Project Umbrella then goes on to make a bunch of other claims right in a row, so let's go down them one by one.
>"Leon and Adam working together for a decade is only an approximation" Okay, but if you're approximating, the number would be closer to 15, not 10. Benford died in 2011. 2011 - 1998 = 13. So the rounded number would be 15.
>it's okay if RE6 gets the date wrong because supplementary material gets it wrong
>implying that the game does not have more people working on it to ensure accuracy than random supplemental material. You're telling me that no one on the team of hundreds that worked on this game remembered that Raccoon City happened in 1998?
>RE6 is off by a year re: Chris killing Wesker
Is that true?
No, actually. That's not true at all. RE6 says it happened in 2009. And, wouldn't you know it. RE5 takes place in 2009.
So, what do you think, Mr. Project Umbrella?
Is that enough research that I've done for you?
Maybe the next time you want to go into a woman's DMs to mansplain at her and call her hysterical, you might want to get your fucking facts right first, you self-important misogynistic piece of human fucking garbage.
So.
In conclusion.
DO NOT LISTEN TO THE FUCKERS WHO CONTROL THE WIKI
THEY JUST FUCKING GO ON THE INTERNET AND TELL LIES
and talk down to women, apparently
#resident evil#resident evil 6#leon kennedy#i suppose i'll have to add this to the 'leon's wiki is filled with lies and bullshit' page#but holy shit this was not what i expected to encounter today#this is your 'authority' on the canon#THIS is the fucker who's telling you that all supplemental material is canon and all devs have word of god#THIS fucking idiot#the wiki actively makes RE fandom worse#this is why this series's story doesn't make any fucking sense to people#because they're learning the story from this complete fucking dipshit moron#who puts every contradictory fact he can find together in one big pot and says 'THAT'S THE STORY'#no#the story is ONLY in the games and the movies AND NOTHING ELSE#IF IT'S NOT IN THE GAMES OR THE MOVIES IT'S NOT CANON#IF#IT'S#NOT#IN#THE#GAMES#OR#MOVIES#IT'S NOT CANON#DON'T EVER QUESTION ME#NEVER EVER QUESTION ME
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Girl I know I'm a whole week late but life and several heat waves have kicked my ass recently BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!! And I felt so... full afterwards?! Pierced through my psyque and left me truly gorged 🥹
It definitely felt like a spiritual, emotional, sexual sequel to that first Copley fic. A natural, inevitable outcome of that first encounter, and you absolutely get the feeling that neither of them could have escaped it, and I loved the fact that you had them both acknowledge that!
Also loved how heavy it was, in every way, almost like if heaviness in Daniel's stomach manifested itself in every action and every word spoken, with Armand trying to recapture his long lost life in Venice, of a boy that had known what true hunger was and then had had the world at his feet. I was on my knees!!! Also I might or might not have spent minutes in bed trying to figure out what swallowing a crunchy songbird whole must be like and GAGGED (and also thought about that one scene in Succession lmao you know the one).
AND this paragraph right here might now be part of my @apoptoses hall of fame? "Daniel tips his face into his hand and shudders. Armand only drank but a little from him. He’s still unnaturally cold and that’s soothing to him in a bizarre way. No other mortal he’s known would want the comfort of a monster like him. Only the boy who died half a millenia ago, the one that’s now the creature stroking his living lover’s face." BANGER OF ALL TIME!!! Where would we be without you? Hopefully we'll never have to find out xoxo DA ❤️❤️
DA 🥹🥹🥹
I had to acknowledge the Copley because like, that happened at the start of the relationship right? And this is kind of at the tail end, right before things get rough and Daniel starts taking off. So I think it's not as cuddly as my usual stuff because of that, but I don't think this level of pushing Daniel up against an edge would work if it was?
Like Armand is being a little more sadistic, a little more selfish, and even if Daniel is choosing to play into it I think somehow this is further than they usually go because Armand is desperate for something here. They're both aware things can't last forever. SAD!!!
lmao listen, technically I knew about orotlans from hannibal but it's tom and greg that are in my mind forever now thinking about them. I've read eating them described as a bizarre mix of crunching bones, bursting fat and the flavor of cognac and I really, really want Armand to convince Daniel to eat one 🤣 Because if he can't handle a bone-in chicken nugget then how is he gonna handle drinking blood!!
Gosh I think about Amadeo's attraction to the monster that his master was, and the way that's reflected in Daniel being attracted to him while he's conscious of what he is and like!! The parallels!! They're two sides of the same monster fucker coin and I think that's why he's Armand's big love!! No other vampires they know understand what it's like to live with and love the monster that eventually makes you a monster too.
ANYWAYS I'm still sorry this was kind of a feel-bad fic lmao I think maybe it's slightly less lovable than my other stuff but I'm glad you're into it!!! It was such a labor to concoct.
I do have a very very small something for mermay (featuring bianca!!) so i hope you like that too 🥹
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can't stop thinking of this op danny/guardian spirit/young justice crossover that I can't write because I don't have the DC universe background knowledge for it so I'm gonna just dump the concept here
be prepared for a lot of rambling
so the JL consider Amity Park a Safe Zone in case of dire emergencies
but nobody is told why, only the top members of the Justice League know anything about the place, Robin probably breaks into Batsy's computer and finds something about some hero there named Phantom but he can't find any other info about him or the town other than that he's trustworthy
and maybe the Young Justice crew get fucked up and the JL are indisposed or being distracted or something and the safe houses are compromised so Robin has to be like 'alright team I know this One Place that's supposed to be like a last resort safe space' so they all end up in Amity Park, and their pursuers are right on their tail until they hit the edge of town and then some fucking force of nature comes down on the bad guys following them out of nowhere and fucks them up
they would just be like 'holy shit who is this guy how come we never heard of him??'
and Robin is like 'oh hey so you're Phantom? Batman said this was a safe place to go when we're in trouble'
and he's expecting Danny to know some shit or have a plan or a safehouse to take them to
but Danny's just all 'uhhh this place gets attacked by inter-dimensional monsters every other day why would he send you here for safety? also Batman knows who I am???'
Robin is just confused as all hell because apparently Batman has this town listed as the Ultimate Safehouse and its hero is listed as Trusted but he's never even spoken to the guy?
real sus
but Danny takes them in and finds some abandoned house for them to stay in, and promises that whoever is chasing them will not set foot in this town, like they might have to deal with some ghosts popping up but human threats are no problem
and they're in this empty house that's, okay well it isn't dilapidated or anything but it has no power or water or even security, Phantom just tells them he's got their backs while they recover and don't worry about it
but Robin wants answers so he's quizzing Danny on who he is and why Batman trusts him
but Danny's got no idea, he's surprised the JL even know who he is because nobody has ever come to see him, nobody has ever given him any indication that they even know he's here, which he was kinda peeved about because he had to tackle every ghost attack by himself
but the Justice League not only knew he was here but apparently volunteered him to look after them?
he's a little bit pissy about that, Robin cannot entirely blame him, Robin thinks this whole thing is weird, like there has to be a reason, the JL don't just ignore kids fighting crime on their own, they would have invited him into their team, offered him help and training, not left him to figure it all out alone
although the kid was pretty powerful, he took out a whole crew of bad guys in one breath, literally
true to Danny's word, nobody finds them, the guys who had been hunting them down and chasing them everywhere can't seem to track them here, either that or Phantom just keeps getting in their way when they try, they feel so safe here, safer than they've ever felt before
Megan picks up that there's something unusual about the place, it's like the town itself is telling them that they're safe here, the air is full of love and warmth and comfort, somebody here wants them to feel at ease, somebody here wants them to feel safe
Robin still thinks it's sus
he starts to wonder if Batman was coerced by this psychic force to mark the town as a safe space, but he's pretty sure Batman's too savvy for that, besides, Megan was certain that there was no coercion or ill intent plaguing their minds, it's just a general atmosphere of safety
and she's pretty sure it's coming from Phantom
they witness a ghost fight or two and are amazed that the JL have been ignoring these pretty significant threats and just let some kid handle it alone, sure he has the same powerset as the enemies plus some, but he's still a kid and he's alone
none of them would ever have been allowed this much freedom or this little assistance
super super sus
after the JL finally get out of whatever issue they've been stuck with, they come pick up the kids and Danny is there like 'oh hey I think I need an explanation because what the fuck guys'
and Batman in all his blunt glory just tells him 'we were advised not to interfere unless absolutely necessary'
Danny obviously Does Not Like this answer and wants to know who this guy is that's ordering Batman around, then low and behold, Constantine shows up, immediately balling out Batman because 'why the fuck are you in Amity Park rn I made it VERY CLEAR that this place is a delicate fucking ecosystem if Superman gets god damn overshadowed we are all gonna have problems'
aaaaaand suddenly it all makes sense
Danny realises that any hero who's powerful enough to take on a ghost literally cannot risk that power in the hands of creatures that can just take over their bodies at any time, especially when this is a standard ability in all of Danny's enemies
but he's still shitty because like 'y'all could still have called me or something it would be nice to know I wasn't totally alone out here ya know'
and Constantine is all 'kiddo I literally had the god of time show up in my bedroom at 3am to tell me to make sure none of these fucks tried to adopt you as a side kick, one of them has a track record with this kinda thing it's a legit problem, I couldn't give these fuckers an inch, this town was off limits. so WHY ARE YOU ALL HERE RN'
aaaand Batman has to explain them a thing, basically Phantom is considered so fucking OP and has such an omniscient connection to the town itself that it makes for the perfect hiding place and defence for anyone in dire straights, and it really is only supposed to be a last resort, the side kicks had absolutely nowhere else to go with all of their safe houses compromised
aaaand that's how Danny learns that he is kind of more powerful than most of the god damn Justice League
hope you enjoyed this because I am never gonna be able to actually write it, have a nice day ✨
#lula's aus#danny phantom#overpowered danny#op danny dc edition#guardian spirit au#young justice#justice league#dc
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Demon Bros React: MC Defends Them From Nasty Remarks
Warnings: Explicit language, MC being mildly violent (throwing/kicking things).
Lucifer
Lucifer had just finished some paperwork for Diavolo and was on his way to R.A.D to deliver it.
In the hallway he could hear two demons talking and laughing. As he got closer he heard them say "Lucifer" and instinctively ducked into a nearby alcove.
"Lucifer's such an asshole." "I know, right? He acts like he's so much better than the rest of us when really, he just has a huge stick up his ass. It's no wonder he doesn't have any friends. Even his own brothers don't like him!" "He'll probably spend the rest of his life being Diavolo’s little bitch."
He would be lying if the comments didn't make him angry. But it was far from the worst thing he had heard about himself and would definitely not be the last time someone spoke ill of him.
With a weary sigh, Lucifer turned toward the south entrance where he could walk in order to avoid the demons. He could have strode past and glared at them menacingly. He could have made them grovel on their knees. But he was honestly exhausted and looked forward to this day being over as soon as possible. Plus, it would reflect poorly on Lord Diavolo if he started a fight with some lesser demons over this.
Suddenly, the chatter of the demons was interrupted by a loud thumping sound followed by the sound of one of the demons screeching in pain.
Lucifer quickly turned around to see- Oh no. You were standing in front of the demons, rage clear on your face. The demon who had yelled in pain was crouched on the ground holding his bruised shoulder. A History of the Devildom textbook was open on the ground, pages crumpled.
Did you... did you just throw a textbook at a demon?
Before he could even move, he heard your angry voice. "Listen here you fuckers. How dare you talk about Lucifer like that. He's one of the kindest, most intelligent, most thoughtful beings I've ever met. And you have no right to speak of him like that! I love him!"
Lucifer's heart burst at your declaration, his cheeks warming in pleasure. The two demons however, who had been gaping at you in shock, were now beginning to look murderous. The injured one stood up and slowly inched toward you, a vicious grin on his face. "Oh, is that so? And what the hell is a weak human like you going to do about it?"
You opened your mouth to speak but before you could say anything, Lucifer picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. "Love, I appreciate how you stood up for me. There's not many people who have done so for me before. But any more would cause trouble. And also, please don't throw textbooks at others, no matter how much you think they deserve it."
With a smug smile on his face, Lucifer began to walk toward the dorms. You, however, were struggling to turn your head around, still yelling and pointing angrily at the demons. "This isn't over! Sleep with your eyes wide open! You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"
He really did love you.
Mammon
Mammon was at the casino on a Monday night. It was lively as always, crowds of people playing group games and others drinking and mingling.
But for some reason, Mammon felt like being alone. He was in one of the more quiet corners, playing the slot machines.
He honestly should have been back at the dorms doing his homework. He was here because he felt like he had to, but his heart wasn't really in it. Mammon thought about packing it up early and texting you to see if you wanted to hang out.
The sudden sound of glass shattering broke through his thoughts. There was some sort of commotion going on and Mammon could hear angry yelling and cursing, some kind of argument.
Like many of the other customers, Mammon drifted toward the noise wanting to see what had happened. His heart sank when he saw you in the middle of the crowd, still in your R.A.D uniform, arguing with an older demon who Mammon recognized as a regular. They had played some games together before that always ended in angry accusations. The remains of a drinking glass lay shattered on the floor.
Mammon quickly rushed to your side. "MC, what the hell are you doing here?! What happened?" Up close he could see how livid you looked, you were trembling with fury.
The older demon opened his mouth while gesturing at his ruined clothes. "This bitch threw a drink at me! I should have them arrested! Do you know how much this tuxedo costs?" Ignoring him, you turned to face Mammon.
"Mams, Lucifer told me to check up on you and you weren't answering my calls. So I decided to come in person to make sure you were okay. But then I heard this asshole saying terrible things about you to his friends, calling you a liar and a cheater and all kinds of horrible names that you're not!"
Mammon was shocked to see you were struggling to fight off your tears, your lower lip quivering. "I know how caring and genuine and loving you are and I couldn't stand by while he said those things about you! None of it’s true!"
Overcome with emotion Mammon embraced you fiercely, shielding you from the other demon. "Oh, babe. Ya really are a special one.” Mammon gently stroked your hair and whispered in your ear. “I don't care about what he said, but thanks for sticking up for me. I love ya so much."
"Now let's make a run for it so that demon doesn't kill us."
Leviathan
Levi was slowly getting used to being in a relationship with you in public. At first, interactions were limited to the privacy of his room: cuddling and watching movies, gaming together, reading manga together. But now he looked forward to waiting for you after classes and walking home with you while holding hands.
His face got really red and he had a hard time making eye contact with you but still, he thought it was an improvement.
Right now he was waiting for you outside your classroom, scrolling through his D.D.D to kill time. Suddenly, he heard someone call your name.
“MC, you’re dating Levi right?” At the sound of his name he peeked in the window to see you cornered by three demons. He saw you nod.
The demons began to barrage you with questions. “Why are you with a loser like that? Doesn’t he like never leave his room?” “He’s honestly the ugliest out of his family. I don’t believe that Levi and Asmo are related.” “You don’t actually find him attractive, do you?” “Are you with him ‘cause he’s like the easiest to control?”
Each word felt like someone was piercing his heart. These were all things that he had thought or wondered himself, days when the darkness seemed to win over his mind. But to have them spoken out loud, especially in front of you, it was unbearable. It was as if his lowest and most shameful thoughts were being justified.
He was afraid to hear what your answers would be. Biting his lower lip, Levi turned to head home by himself but flinched at the loud sound of something slamming into the wall. He peeked inside the window again and saw you standing there, furious, your hands clenched into fists. You had apparently kicked one of the desks into the wall, black scuff marks clearly visible against the white paint.
“Alright, listen here you despicable fucks because I’m only going to say this once. My relationship with Levi is private, meaning all of your questions can be answered with ‘none of your damn business’. But since you’ve gone out of your way to waste my time, I’ll let you know this: Leviathan is more beautiful, inside and out, than any of you will ever be in your entire miserable lives. I honestly don’t think you deserve to breathe the same air as him and I hope Levi summons Lotan to devour the three of you."
Levi’s jaw was on the floor. He had never heard you speak that way. He had never had someone defend him so fiercely. His thoughts were interrupted by the classroom door suddenly slamming open as you walked out."
“Oh Levi, tell me you didn’t hear anything just now.” Your eyes were wide and you looked at him nervously.
Levi grabbed your hand and held it tight between two of his own. “I did, but it’s alright. Thanks for what you said.”
“Anything for my Lord of Shadows.”
Satan
Satan was heading to the library, your usual after-school spot. Some days you two spent hours there doing homework, reading, or just chatting quietly about your day before heading to dinner.
As he approached the table he saw you sitting down with a stranger seated opposite you. Leaning closer he was relieved to see it was a classmate you were friendly with, someone he knew you hung out with occasionally.
Satan was about to say hello when he stopped at the mention of his name. "MC, are you sure it's wise to be this involved with Satan?"
He quickly ducked behind a nearby bookshelf. Satan usually wasn't one to eavesdrop like this but the question concerned him.
"MC, I'm asking you for your sake. Satan is dangerous. He's violent and cruel. There are rumors about him beating up other demons and doing horrible things to them. What if he tries to hurt you too?"
Satan flinched. Sure his wrath had led him to do some destructive things before, but it was never without reason. Is this how you saw him as well? His thoughts began to spiral. What if you grew scared of him? Of his wrath? What if you flinched at his touch? That would hurt more than any of the rumors that swirled about him.
Satan saw you take a deep breath before speaking. "Well, I appreciate you talking to me about this. I know you meant the best and were just thinking about me. But I promise you, you have nothing to be worried about. Satan would never hurt me."
He saw your friend shake their head, exasperated. "But you don't know that! What if one day he can't control himself and has an outburst or something?"
You replied carefully. "Satan is gentle. Incredibly so. He always treats me with nothing but respect and kindness. And Satan's not some kind of monster. He knows how to control himself and his powers. I love him. I really do. And until he decides to stop loving me, I want to be by his side."
He saw your friend huff irritably and get up to walk away. "Suit yourself, MC. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Satan took this as his cue to walk over. Your eyes brightened at the sight of him and you started to ask him about his day, acting as if nothing had happened. Satan played along for a bit, but then reached across the table for your hand and began playing with your fingers.
His hand was shaking. "I'll never stop loving you, you know. For as long as I live you're the only one for me. I love you, MC."
Asmodeus
Asmo was thrilled when you said you wanted to go dancing with him because he was usually the one pestering you to do things. He was having so much fun with you tonight, twirling you around on the dance floor and marveling how beautiful you looked under the shimmering lights of the club.
He was beginning to feel a bit hot, however, and excused himself to the bathroom, making sure you were safe on of the couches with a bottle of water in your hand.
Asmo had just finished touching up his makeup and adjusting his outfit when he heard two demons near the entrance of the bathroom gossiping loudly about him.
“Did you see what he was wearing tonight? He might as well have come naked instead of wearing those scraps of fabric he thinks counts as an outfit.” “My friend slept with Asmo once. She said he’s super easy, he’s willing to pretty much sleep with anyone.” “I bet him and that human won’t last another week. Once he’s done with them he’ll trash ‘em and move on to the next one, like he always does.”
Being the Avatar of Lust meant that Asmo had heard these kinds of comments before, whispered in the hallways at R.A.D or the dark hallways of nightclubs. It never really got easier listening to them though, and he realized he was biting down hard on his lower lip, his nails digging into his palm.
Asmo contemplated what to do. He didn’t want to keep you waiting by yourself outside but he also didn’t want to run into the demons talking about him. Their comments affected him more than he thought they would. Maybe it was because you were involved. He wouldn’t do that to you. You knew that right? He would never treat you like a plaything.
Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves Asmo schooled his face into an expression of careless indifference. He took a step outside, ready to greet his "fans", but was surprised to see that you had gotten there first.
And what a sight you were. Despite being much shorter than the two demons, it seemed you were the least bit intimidated. Your glare was ice cold as you gestured wildly at the two of them, and moving closer Asmo realized you were screaming.
"How fucking dare you say such vile things? You don't know the first thing about Asmo. You're really going to shame someone for what they wear?! For what they do in the privacy of their bedroom?!"
You pointed angrily at the demons, who seemed too stunned to move or say anything. "People like you make me fucking sick. You're despicable! Talking as if you're so high and mighty when all you do is judge others! How dare you? You cowards!"
Asmo could see you were getting more and more enraged and your hands were beginning to tremble. He leapt forward to stand between you and the demons and put his hands gently on your shoulders. Once he saw that you were okay, he gave you a passionate kiss, his mouth hot and needy against yours.
You kissed him back for a moment but moved away to hiss, "Karens, Asmo! Karens in the fucking Devildom, who would have thought?!"
"I know, darling. Let's head home. We can have a nice, relaxing bubble bath together."
Beelzebub
Beel was looking through the menu, deciding between a couple of his favorite dishes. It was your one year anniversary and despite his insistent protests, you had remained firm in your decision to pay for that night’s meal. Ever since you and Beel began dating, he pretty much always paid for your meals together because of how much he ate. But tonight, you wanted to be the one to treat him for once.
Beel knew you had secretly been saving up Grimm and he’d feel so guilty if you spent it all on him. Which was why he was trying to decide between a couple of different things, when normally he would have ordered everything on the page.
“Babe, please order whatever you want. I can practically see the thoughts turning in your head. I told you that I wanted to pay for tonight and I’m going to keep that promise. I want this to be a special night for us, so don’t worry about it.” Before he could protest, you called the waiter over.
Beel sighed and knew there was no changing your mind on this. You were incredibly stubborn when you wanted to be. He rattled off his usual order as the waiter frantically scribbled down notes, struggling to keep up. Once finished, Beel handed over the menus and smiled at how cute you looked, a mixture of pride and smugness on your face.
But your expression soon turned sour as you heard the conversation from a couple sitting a few tables over. Their voices were intentionally loud and they kept sneaking glances at your table as if to watch your reactions.
“Oh my lord, honey did you see how much food that guy just ordered? What an absolute pig!” “I saw, darling. I honestly pity his date right now, they must be soooo embarrassed.” “Is there anyone who wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen in public with such a selfish glutton?”
Beel’s heart felt like it had sunk. Embarrassed? Was MC embarrassed to be seen with him? Panicking, Beel thought back to all of the dates he’d had with MC so far. He realized that they ate out a good majority of the time they hung out, with Beel eating his normal enormous portions each time. Oh no, what had he done?
Head bowed, Beel slowly looked up at you, afraid to see what kind of expression you were making. But to his surprise, you didn’t look embarrassed or ashamed at all. You looked like you were going to murder someone.
He watched as you cleared your throat and then began speaking even more loudly than the couple had been. “OH BEEL, MY HANDSOME, KIND, LOVING, STRONG, SEXY, TALENTED BOYFRIEND. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! YOU’RE HONESTLY SO AMAZING AND ONE OF THE QUALITIES I LOVE ABOUT YOU MOST IS THAT YOU’RE NOT A JUDGMENTAL ASSHOLE WHO MAKES RUDE INAPPROPRIATE COMMENTS TO STRANGERS ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE NONE OF THEIR DAMN BUSINESS!”
Beel felt his lips inch into a smile and he flushed with amusement and happiness. But you weren’t finished just yet. “EXCUSE ME WAITER?”
Your waiter practically ran to the table and looked between you two nervously, then at the couple glaring daggers in your direction. “COULD YOU PLEASE BRING US ANOTHER MENU? MY BOYFRIEND WASN’T FINISHED WITH ORDERING WHAT HE WANTS. OH BEEL, I LOVE HOW MUCH YOU EAT. HOW COULD SOMEONE BE EMBARRASSED OF A WONDERFUL GUY LIKE YOU?”
Beel took the menu and began listing some more foods at random, not really paying attention. He was too busy thinking about how much he loved you, how nobody aside from Belphie had ever stood up for him like that, had protected him like that. His cheeks felt like they were about to split from how much he was smiling.
When the waiter finally left, looking frazzled, Beel made his way over to your side of the table. He knelt down and nuzzled into your neck before giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “MC, you’re amazing.”
Belphegor
Belphie had to admit, the gardens were a pretty nice place for a nap. Earlier in the day you had practically dragged him outside claiming that you were bored of sleeping in his room. As if that was even possible.
At first he was pretty annoyed that you were making him get up and move around. But the newly washed picnic blanket, the cool breeze rustling through the trees, and the light smell of flowers in the air all contributed to a very nice environment for a nap.
Belphie rested his head on your lap, already feeling his eyelids growing heavier. Your fingers gently combed through his hair, lightly scratching against his scalp, and he practically purred.
He guessed he had been asleep for about ten minutes when he awoke to the sound of your voice and something prodding against his knee.
Irritated at the disturbance, Belphie looked up to see two R.A.D students he recognized for always causing trouble. He looked over to see you scowling and guessed you had been telling them to leave so they wouldn't wake him up.
One of the students leered down, blocking out the light, and used the tip of his foot to poke Belphie's knee again. "Well the two of you make an odd fucking pair, huh?” He sneered, “Personally, I don’t date people who have MURDERED me in the past but what do I know? Love works in all kinds of mysterious ways.” You flinched as if someone had slapped you and Belphie growled, his hands curling into fists.
The other student leaned down to clap Belphie on the shoulder. “I gotta admit I didn’t know you had it in you, chief! I always thought you were...” He gave Belphie a once-over before adding “Well, everyone thinks you’re a bit fucking useless, eh? But I’m glad to see you’re capable of something.”
Belphie opened his mouth to reply venomously but was interrupted by the most horrifying sound coming from your mouth. It sounded like a combination of wailing and screeching as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. It was difficult to hear what exactly you were saying because of how hard you were crying, but Belphie could make out “How could you say that?!” and “Leave him alone!” among the screams.
The two students had their hands over their ears, their faces twisted into grimaces of pain. One shouted, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Worried, Belphie put a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down but you shrugged it off, continuing to cry and wail. Pretty soon other students began gathering around you, whispering amongst themselves and looking to see what all the noise and commotion was about. It was difficult to ignore you when you kept yelling things like “You’re horrible! Horrible! Leave us alone!”
The two instigators looked at each other for a brief moment before deciding to run off, not wanting to get involved any further. And as soon as they left, it was like a switch had been turned off. You stopped crying and screaming immediately. If he hadn’t been there from the beginning, Belphie never would have guessed that you had been crying. Your face was perfectly calm and you sat relaxed with your hands folded, the picture of innocence.
“Belphie, don’t worry about what those two idiots said. We’ve talked about it enough and we’ve both worked it out, haven’t we? And you’re not useless. You know how much I love you and care about you. You mean so much to me.”
Belphie leaned over to take your hand in his trembling one. He reached down to brush a stray leaf out of your hair before whispering, “MC, you’re fucking terrifying sometimes. I love you.”
#obey me#obey me headcanons#obey me hcs#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me beel#obey me belphie#om! headcanons#om! hcs#obey me! shall we date?#obey me!
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I Burn For You
***So THIS has been stuck in my head all day and I just- I love it. I love it so much. And it reminded me...So you guys all know how I hate/love Lucifer...it gave me those vibes. So........... Well I haven't written anything actually relevant to The Facade of the Suitor or anything else that I've been procrastinating, I have been able to push out this little short inspired by this beauty of a duet that is EVERYTHING to me. -B***
Summary: Since MC's arrival, Lucifer and them have never fully gotten along. There was always a large, unknown and undiscussed tension between them and they were fine to keep it that way. But when MC's security in the Devildom is threatened by both the angels and the nobility of the Devildom itself, everything changes. As a ruse to persuade the celestial realm, MC and Lucifer wed. After the ceremony, they finally talk about the unacknowledged feelings burning inside of both of them.
MC x Lucifer
The air hung heavy and thick like the gold bands that now decorated both of your fingers.
You and Lucifer stood on opposite sides of the room, your backs facing one another with nothing but silence between you.
You couldn't help but reminisce on how you got here, on your supposed 'honeymoon' married to none other but the prideful, arrogant, avatar of sin, Lucifer Morningstar himself.
Diavolo had burst into the House of Lamentation an entire month ago. He desperately explained how the angels had received word about you through the fond, innocent-intending, stories of Luke and we're demanding that you be 'released' from your 'imprisonment in the infernal Devildom and that they wished to cleanse you of the 'hellish corruption' the demons had 'forced upon you' through your pacts. Wanting to avoid yet another Celestial War, even on a small scale, the noble court had wanted to agree and simply hand you over to them, cut your pacts, and banish you from returning as an act of agreement and co-operation with the angels.
Obviously, this didn't sit well with you or any of the brothers.
You had all tried to come up with a number of plans, but they all promised retaliation from the angels.
Eventually, it was Lucifer himself who begrudgingly came up with the final plan. The angels wouldn't believe you if you simply told them that you liked it here and wanted to stay. They'd think you were charmed or manipulated. However, if the two of you worked together, and pretended to be in a relationship, convince the angels of your 'genuine' feelings and prove to them that you were in love, and finalize this by marrying Lucifer, it just might work.
First of all, love was something that had sparked war in the past, that both sides had learned from and had grown to deeply treasure and value. Secondly, Micheal, head Archangel of the Celestial Realm, trusted Lucifer the most of all the brothers. The two of you could take advantage of that use it to convince him that you were actually safer in the Devildom by Lucifer's side. And finally, if you were willingly bound by marriage, there was very little that the Celestial Realm could do to force you to leave.
The plan wasn't terrible, but there was one thing about it that caused you to clench your fists and grind your teeth: it was with Lucifer.
Lucifer who constantly teased you and pushed your buttons in a way that he knew would cause you to either give in to him or snap.
Lucifer who was cruel and sadistic and did nothing unless there was some personal gain or it was under the demand of his precious Diavolo.
Lucifer who never ever put anything before his own stupid pride.
Though you were normally a calm and positive person, there was just something about Lucifer that had always caused an inferno of anger and rebellion to burn within you. You felt this strong need to constantly prove him wrong and to defy him.
As a result, the two of you consistently butted heads, arguing about Lucifer's treatment of his brothers and your recklessness on an almost weekly basis.
The idea of being chained to this...this demon for the rest of your mortal life caused your stomach to twist tightly into knots. Though, if it ensured you'd be able to stay with the rest of your found family? You'd make the necessary sacrifice.
So the two of you did the whole show. You went on dates, smiled and laughed together as though you were the lead roles in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and played every card in the book to convince the angels that you were safe and happy under the kind watch of your lover.
Those weeks had started off painful, as you pushed back all feelings of disdain for the eldest brother to play the role of the perfect partner. But as time passed, you hadn't noticed that it had become easier and easier to stay by his side. The smiles you gave him were no longer forced, but sincere ones that brought joy. The lines between what was real and what was fake began to blur.
You sealed the deal with your wedding only a few hours ago.
The vows Lucifer had spoken...promising to watch and protect you even as your skin wrinkled and your hair grew grey. To hold your hand and aid you when you no longer had the strength. To shower you in love and devotion even in your final hours.
They had been spoken with such passion and raw emotion that you didn't dare think too deeply about. It had caused your breath to catch in your throat, and you had to remind yourself that this was all an act. Soon the curtain would close, and Lucifer would return to the cold-hearted monster that you knew.
Yet even now, hours after the ceremony had finished, you couldn't get that intense gaze, and the sparks that exploded under your fingertips as his hands gently squeezed yours, out of your head.
Lucifer sighed from the other side of the room and glanced over at you. "Are we just going to continue ignoring each other?"
You scoffed and turned your head further away; ignoring the loud pounding of your heart and instead focusing on the flickers of frustration licking up your gut. "What else are we supposed to do? There's no one else around. The act is over."
You whirled around at his sarcasm and could practically feel the wrath blazing behind your eyes. "Sorry, my Lord, if I'm not exactly giddy about the fact that I just signed myself to the likes of you just for the approval of some fluffy winged assholes!"
You could practically hear Lucifer roll his eyes as he walked over to the liquor cart and poured himself a drink. "Right. So you just plan to spend the entirety of the weekend that Micheal paid for us brooding in a corner? How mature of you."
Lucifer, the fucker, had the gull to act unphased and casually swirled his drink in his hand. "It could be much, much worse," he took a sip of the amber liquid before staring down in his glass. "It's not as though you didn't agree to this."
"Only because I didn't want to be kicked out of the Devildom and never allowed to see your brothers again!" You growled. Your anger only grew as you noticed him clench his fingers tighter around the glass. You groaned and ran a hand through your hair. "This was a stupid plan! You probably just invented this entire ruse as yet another way to get under my skin. Well congratulations, Lucifer. You win!"
You refused to look at him, as you turned your heated gaze out the window.
You didn't see the flash of hurt that washed over his expression, nor hear the way his breath caught in his throat. "Is being married to me truly that awful? Are you honestly telling me that you haven't enjoyed even a single second of this past month?"
You tensed and crossed your arms over your chest, as you continued to avoid looking at him. "What kind of question is that? You're a demon who cares about nothing but himself," you pursed your lips and mentally tried to deny just how wrong those words felt on your tongue.
"I wouldn't say that's true. Believe it or not, I do care for my brothers." There was a shaky breath, one so uncharacteristic for the confident Morningstar, before he continued. "And you. I did promise to love you until your final breath after all, and I do not break my promises."
There was silence once again. Though this quiet seemed to crackle with the anticipation for something, though neither of you quite knew what.
You closed your eyes, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in your heart at his words. "Those vows were only part of the act. They weren't real."
"Perhaps not for you," your eyes snapped open at the response. You looked back at the demon. Lucifer stood leaning against the wall, drink still in hand, as he stared intensely at the floor. "This may have all been an act for you, MC, but it stopped being a ruse for me mere hours after we began."
You felt yourself frown as you stared at him. Your traitor heart dared to grow warm with hope, only adding fuel to the growing frustration inside you. "You're lying. You're just trying to get me worked up again."
"Actually, I'm not," his eyes met yours and it felt as though time froze. His expression was so unguarded, so honest. For once, you looked into his eyes and you could see every emotion that he wore openly before you. You could see the hurt, the certainty, and most of all the same passionate love that shone so brightly in them throughout the ceremony. "From the moment I met you, you caused a fire to ignite in my heart. I was determined to control you and to make you be the human representative for Diavolo. But then, you acted against me, and that changed. I still wanted to make sure that you fulfilling your purpose in the exchange program, but I took on the challenge of finally having you respect and listen to me. You were stubborn and fierce, yet so beautifully driven and I admired that." your eyes widened at the admission. "It wasn't until I was forced to look at you in a romantic light for this scheme that I understood the true nature of these feelings. It wasn't that I wanted to control you, or break you, or shape you into what I needed. It was so much deeper, so much more dangerous than that. I wanted to have you fall in love for me, as I had fallen for you, and make you mine."
He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "I know you don't feel the same. I've accepted that. But I...I'm done with acting like this isn't real for me. I refuse to pretend that there's nothing there between us any longer."
He finally broke eye contact, looking back at his now empty glass as you practically gaped at him. Love. Lucifer...loved you? You gulped and took a step towards him, "Lucifer..."
The fire burning within you consumed you as your face heated up. "You...You love me? You actually love me?"
You flinched as he glared sharply at you. "Don't rub it in."
You didn't know what to make of that. You weren't sure what to make of any of this. Your feelings towards Lucifer had changed over the past month, but you had assumed that was simply part of the act. But if everything he had done and said as you two were pretending to be a couple was real, then what did that mean for you?
What did that mean for the way the sight of him caused your heart to skip? Or the way his rare smiles never failed to make you smile back? Or the unwavering sense of comfort and security that he provided?
What did that mean for the ruthless, scalding fire that he had always caused to rage inside you? You always assumed it was anger, but what if...
You gasped in realization. "I burn for you."
The demon tensed as he blinked in confusion. "You...I'm sorry, you what?"
You moved closer to him, each step more certain than the last, as you shakily spoke the words that rang through you. "I burn for you, Lucifer. I don't know entirely what it means myself, but ever since we met you've caused this irrational passion and drive to sear inside of me. I-I had always assumed it was hatred. You're so infuriating. Every word you speak does nothing but cause that fire to flare brighter within in. Every action leaves me filled with sparks of restless energy that won't be satiated until I combust at you," as you now stood nearly toe to toe with him, you grabbed his hand and placed it over your roaring heart. Hope flickered like a candle in the darkness of his black eyes. "I had thought that this couldn't be anything other than anger and hatred. I refused to believe even the possibility that it could be anything else. But this past month you...you were honest and almost kind and vulnerable. Your teasing didn't make me want to punch you, but rather made me laugh. You showed me a side of you that I didn't even know existed. I...I think-"
You were cut off by a finger on your lips. Lucifer looked down at you with a stern, cold expression. The action paired with that face would've caused you to become infuriated by his audacity and superiority complex in the past. But now you could see past it, and could see it for what it truly was: a carefully crafted barrier that hid his most vulnerable feelings and protected him. "If you do not mean the words you were about to say, if you are pitying me, I must demand that you stop here. Do not say those words unless you truly mean them," his deep voice was tinged with distrust and caution.
You held his gaze as you kissed the pad of the finger against your lips and whispered gently, "Lucifer, I think that I love you."
Suddenly your lips were captured in his as he pulled you close and ever so adoringly cupped your face. For the first time since meeting him, the flames inside you were extinguished by the cold touch of his hands on your face and the surprising gentleness of his affection.
His hand slid from your face and came to rest on your shoulder as his eyes widened. His gaze scanned your expression for any traces of falsehood or insincerity. You could hear the breath leave his lungs as he found none.
He softly kissed his temple, effectively hiding his face as it grew redder and whispered, "Of course, beloved."
Lucifer laughed as he pulled away, his thumb caressing your cheek, as he smiled. "To think it only took us getting married to realize it," you laughed as you felt happy tears prick the corners of your eyes. Lucifer sighed in content as rested his forehead against yours. "Remind me to send a thank you to, Micheal."
You hummed and nuzzled closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Forget Micheal. He's still an asshole as far as I'm concerned. Instead, focus on me. On us. I want to learn everything about you, about the real you," you smiled as he looked down at you with flushed cheeks. "My husband, Lucifer Morningstar."
You couldn't help but wonder how you had been so oblivious to your true feelings as a shiver ran down your spine and warmth spread throughout your chest simultaneously.
This honest and pure love between the two of you, was new, yet it felt so familiar, and it was abundantly clear to both of you that the depth of those feelings would only become clearer and clearer in time as the fires of your love only grew.
***Gasp. I actually finished something. Would you look at that. Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this little fic! Thank you so much for your support during my hiatus and for being so understanding. I love you guys! Thanks again for reading!***
Taglist: @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @lovelymushi @victoireshaven @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me one master to rule them all#obey me oneshot#obey me fic#obey me fics#obey me fanfic#obey me fan fic#i burn for you#tiktok made me do it#obey me lucifer#obey me lucifer x mc#obey me lucifer x you#obey me lucifer imagine#enemies to lovers#my writing#fan fiction#fan fic#fake relationship#bridgerton musical#soft lucifer#shall we date#shall we date lucifer
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Leech Lord - Naivety
You know all those little things adults say to kids that they take at 100% face value cause they don't have the life experience yet to understand nuance?
That they tend to then grow out of as they get older and begin to absorb information from people around ‘em who know better?
Yeahhhhhh, the twins got none of that.
The twins believe shit in their 20's that they misunderstood as kids and decided was fact, or that Leda and Typhon had said with a jokey air - not realising their children would never be in a position to learn it wasn't true.
Troy gets uncomfortable around the idea of being bedridden for more than a day or two, has to get up, has to pace or try and exercise, has to move.
Gets worried if people he cares about say they are having a day in, sitting on their asses and doing fuck all. Sends bizarre little pings to Sei and Ven when he finds out from Eli they are having a couch slum, asks them if they would rather be at Sanctum, asks if they want to take a midnight trek to the dunes so he can show them some of the cave paintings he'd found wandering with Jak-Knife a few months ago. Gets.. strange about it. Worried.
Cause it's almost like they don't know you're meant to keep active, that keeping active is what keeps your heart going.
Mom had said that, said hearts are important, they are strong and weak and you have to try and.. and keep them working all the time, that you have to try and not stay in bed even if you are sick, Troy. You have to try and move so your little heart will be..
He worries about his friend's hearts some nights for so long that his own starts skipping beats.
Tyreen remembers seeing eyes in the water once, HUGE flickering things that shifted deep in the lake, blood red and burning beneath the dark waves somehow. Hundreds, thousands growing in size as they hissed whispers that filled her mind and built in decibel till it reached a cacophony of broken screeching.
She told Troy, who told Typhon, who told Leda, who laughed and told them all it was just Sleep - taking shapes to watch and wait for children to start to dream so it can fill their heads with stories. She winked at Typhon, who'd laughed and agreed with her, told them that's how he got all his adventures.
Troy loved it, excitedly chattered as he climbed under the blanket next to his sister about what dreams he hoped he would have, maybe the sleep thing in the lake would give him a great one about fighting monsters and being an adventurer, maybe he could fly, maybe -
She'd stared blankly at the wall their cot faced, terrified.
It's been over a decade and Tyreen still feels flashes of some deep seated disturbance if she catches flickering shapes in the corner of her sight. There's a reason she sneaks into Troy's bedroom even when she can barely remember why he makes her feel better.
The eyes that cover him are... quieter.
Neither of them believe in superstitions or the idea of an afterlife. They grew up too removed from the idea of either to give them any credence as adults, but they do parrot some things they've carried since kids.
Troy won't eat scavenged food unless he sees animal tracks surrounding it, nibbles taken from edges. Needs to know something else ate it first. "Never eat what others aint, can be sure dat's poisonous", dad told him when he was 11. He carries that still.
Tyreen tests locked doors twice before she steps away, can't shake the air of discomfort if she doesn't. Has to go back and do it again if she hurried or skipped it. "Always twice, Ty "- Typhon had lectured when she was 7, "Once can be luck, twice is for sure. Never worth it kid, imagine we come back one day and all our stores were eaten up, huh? Or a Manta got at the generators. Always twice."
Seifa has a million tiny habits all rooted in some bizarre cultural superstitions she doesn't see that way at all. The trade fleet goes back so many generations from so many different parts of the galaxy that thousands of stories and beliefs have merged into ridiculous little actions half of the migrants can't even explain at this point.
Brings a little thing to leave in someone's home when invited, it's a trade off. If you're asked over, if you're treated like a family member, better leave a gift behind. A tiny thing usually, a little cacti in an oil can, a bauble she carved. Anything, just to place somewhere for them to find and remember their hospitability.
Doesn't like to sit facing a sunset. Keep your back to it. Long shadows are an advance warning, can't hide in the warm light.
First dollars spent from any new deal are on people who need it. Always. That's the rule. You con some smarmy fucker out of a 40 tonne import transaction fee for shifting their Oranium deposits between a couple of leeway stations off orbit, then you buy a meal for someone who needs it, or cancel a debt. First cash ain't yours. First cash is for people who need it first.
Never ties her hair up at night, even if its an unstyled mess and others will see. Doesn't irk her the same way being unfinished would around people, if her makeup was ruined or her clothes filthy. Not in the same league, somehow. Hair up is for business. The night is to relax. You stop work, you drop that burden. Let your hair down, smile, breath.
Will fix things without being asked. It's good manners. Opens her hand and gestures for damaged shield rigs to be passed over mid conversation, armour panels she's noticed are cracked, loose gun sights. Tinkers with them as she talks to the owner, hands them back repaired, never even mentions this in words. It's not to be spoken of anyway, that alters the deal. Only does it with people she likes though.... it's a simple way to know you're in Ur Machina's good books.
Asks are Open!
#Borderlands#borderlands 3#bl3#troy calypso#tyreen calypso#calypso twins#my writing#leech lord#my hcs#seifa#Sbsart
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this one IS finished (I wrote it in August 2013) and honestly? holds tf up good job 2013 Ruth
(2013 Ruth was evidently very into a) trauma and b) Bertie not being as dead as initially suspected)
TAKE NO PRISONERS GIVE NO QUARTER
The rage hasn't left him since he heard about Bertie. It's amazing what three simple letters can do to a man whose whole self rests on one person. MIA. Theoretically, that's inconclusive, but in reality, that just means there isn't enough left to find, let alone bury. MIA is a pretty common ending to a young man's story, down here in the tunnels.
The whole tunnel came down on Bertie and the rest of the scouting party, the cracked walls giving up the ghost under the combined pressure of shellling and laser fire. Crushed Lenny and Tommy alike, erasing their differences in one bloody mess, good old boys from Blighty and moonbleached Lenny bastards all rendered down to crushed mess together, There was only one survivor to report back, and was is the operative term. It's hard to get back into active service when you're jam from the waist down, and the poor blighter never even made it far enough to be invalided out to one of the giant Medsats in orbit up above.
So Bertie's gone, and in fairness, Tim never was very stable when left to his own devices, as strings of explosive accidents and charred lab wreckages can attest.
There was shock, at first. The dull numbness of denial, no no no NO no NO it can't be he isn't he didn't no body no proof he'll be found he'll be invalided out he'll be fine he is was will be fine he isn't gone because he CAN'T be gone. But denial's hard to cling to when you've seen death like the boys in the tunnels have seen, you know a tunnelfall is not something you walk away from. Or even crawl away from. Nowhere to run, with tonnes upon tonnes of lunar rock crashing down from above, tasting your own fate in the smoke and dust that are the forerunners of the boulders...a hellish death, a messy death, above all a certain death. If you aren't crushed you'll suffocate or die of your wounds, out in the deadland where nobody's going to hear your cries. Hells, Tim and Bertie did it often enough, that grim tunnels game you have to play, sitting by the crackling radio, rustling and banging your things around, talking, singing, anything to block out the hopeless, plaintive calls from the nearest collapsed tunnel, where hidden charges and weakened structures and exposure to fire mean you'll most likely die yourself before you can help any one of the poor bastards.
So Bertie's...
Bertie's...
For hours, days, he couldn't even bear to think the end of that sentence, and he understands now as never before why the tunnels are filled with euphemisms, those coy lies that partially cover this unbearable truths lurking behind them.
Gone.
Bought it.
Kicked the bucket.
Pushing up daisies.
MIA.
Bertie's...Bertie's dead.
His mind revolted, twisted and writhed away from considering the existence of a world with a Bertie-shaped lack, the world he now existed in where days and nights were cold and alone and silent and only filled by his cold hands and his cold eyes and his cold heart and his raging fire thoughts with nobody to guide them. There were, at that point, others around him, comrades, others in his dugout, but they no longer existed to him They meant nothing. They weren't Bertie. They weren't his. They were man-shaped shadows, who drifted in and out of his awareness to offer orders or platitudes. They weren't part of his silent cotton-wool world. Tim was...is...an ice cold, glass-sharp shard in the centre of soft, soundless, excruciating nothing.
He has yet to be aware of crying over Bertie, though sometimes he finds the salt wetness on his face to be tears, not blood, sometimes he realises with a shock that the hopeless sob he hears is his own. But thus far he has never sat down to cry, never let himself mourn. For days after the news came, it wasn't real, nothing was real, he just shut off. He stared, blank-eyed, into the middle distance, and performed his duties with silent, mechanical efficiency. His comrades muttered, as the days spread into weeks, talked about "mental", "headcase", "shell-shock," and though he heard them, they no more penetrated Tim's dead-eyed daze than anything else happening around him. But there was one, a soft-spoken Welshman by the name Griffiths (bought it at Sinus Roris a few days later), who hit the nail on the head. Looking at the detached, unreacting figure of Tim as he sat slowly dissassembling his lasgun, Griffiths said quietly, "I reckon that's what it looks like when a man gets his heart broke beyond repair".
That, Tim heard, and almost, almost cried. Almost let it fall loose, all of it, weeks of pent-up tears, crippling fear, total bereavement. Almost shed every tear he had, for the times that were and the comfort that used to be, for his Bertie and for his own heart, that he'd barely known was there until it shattered, and for the snuffing of the one and only true light in these dank, dismal tunnels. He almost cried, but he didn't. If he let the feelings in, he was sure they would destroy him; comprehension of his loss loomed poised, a tsunami waiting to break over him.
He didn't cry. The emotions stayed safely dammed back. His face stayed empty. His heart stayed closed.
And he could have stayed that way forever, floating through life in the dazed, unfocused stupefaction of unbearable grief, but for one thing. Bertie had...had died pushing the lines forward, and the Moonies were working day and night, it seemed, to push back. And they pushed hard.
They came in the dead of night, trampling across the fallen rock under which was buried the dead of both sides. Tim was on watch that night, he saw the tiny will-o-the-wisp reflection of lights in their eyes, the firelight gleaming off polished buttons. He saw the soldiers who'd mowed down his Bertie (he wasn't there, didn't see how Bertie died, but in the fevered darkness behind his lids, he sees Bertie dying in that godforsaken tunnel night after night in infinite ways, sees him shot down or crushed or lying moaning in the dark, slowly ebbing away a few pathetic tunnels away from Tim's unknowing form), saw them in the flesh now, saw them coming from the wreckage which still buried the only person who'd been real to him, imagined their boots pounding the rubble above Bertie's ruined body. The tension which had been holding him together for every unimaginably long day since the tunnelfall snapped, and the pain crashed thunderous into his head in a flood of images and memory and raw uncurtailed loss, in curly hair and a dimpled smile and pale grey eyes clouded over lying alone dying alone in a stew of viscera and agony and bone and blood and smoke, mingling contamination, blood mixed with his enemies, crushed into moonwhite corpses, a world apart, a world alone, a world where Tim has no control, where Bertie isn't, where Tim...
And without knowing anything, unexpectedly, Tim found the wave didn't swamp him. Didn't crush him, didn't smash him, didn't destroy him. He rode it. His agony and his loss gave him strength, made him unstoppable. Grief surged in his veins, and he surged with it, eyes alive and merciless. He laid red flowers on Bertie's grave. By the time the rest of the platoon scrambled out of the dugout, sleep-fogged and panicking, the battle was all but over, and Tim was gone in a trail of broken corpses.
He is legend. He is death. The monster of the war. His shadow stalks the tunnels, makes Lenny wake up cold and sweating and reaching for his laser in the dark.
Sometimes he surfaces to find himself slick with gore, panting. Sometimes, the flash and scream of his homemade grenades blast him into a moment's lucidity. Sometimes, surrounded by the dead, he awakes to find himself laughing and crying all at once. Always, he surveys his work with grim satisfaction, but his work is not done, will never be done. The fury which drives him will not be sated, because no matter how many he kills, how many of Bertie's murderers fall before him, there will still be more of the moonbleached fuckers out there, and there will still be no Bertie. No amount of blood is blood enough to repay the loss of Bertie. The tunnels can drown in blood for all he cares, as long as there's a Lenny left on the moon he cannot rest, will not rest.
Lips drawn back, baring bloody teeth in a deathshead grin, skin afire with reflected explosions, hair in bloody ratstails whipping the air, eyes wide and redrimmed and merciless, face soot-streaked and bloody, he runs and he destroys. You can only ride the wave as long as you keep moving. Stop, and the pain grabs you, breaks you, drowns and dashes you, you'll never catch it again.
You know this part. Tim in the tunnels, dancing to the sonorous song of gunfire and grenades, hauling on the lasgun's trigger, a wild onlaught of blood and fire, laughing a chillingly humourless laugh, shout-singing the words that make the Kaiser's men piss themselves and run, take no prisoners, give no quarter. The lucky shot, the sudden blackness that damps the fire in his burning mind. Tim wakes before the Moon Kaiser, unarmed, pained, held by guards.
He isn't like other men, that's what the Kaiser failed to take into account. He's a machine fuelled by love and blood, he runs on the pain-fire that consumes him, he won't stop, can't stop. He doesn't see the world like men do, not any more. Many men would tremble, many men would abase themselves in fear, but Tim is not many men. Many men would be surprised to see the decapitated head of a comrade come alive and wink at them, but Tim's not lived in the real world since the tunnel fell, why would it surprise him? He can't stop, and what the Kaiser forgets, looking upon the animalistic form of the monster of the tunnels, is that Tim is not stupid. He never was, was always smarter than his peers, but now he runs with the liquid fire of revenge, the fire which burnt away fear and hesitation, the fire which burnt down to its white-hot razor-sharp bones one of the Academy's greatest intellects.
The laser fires.
The moon blows up.
White hot victory sears his eyes to black holes.
Not one Lenny is left on the Moon.
For the first time since the tunnelfall, perhaps the last, Tim wears a true, unmitigated smile. His face bloody and bruised, cheekbone fractured, teeth loose in his salt-tasting mouth, lips and beard streaked with blood, burned-out holes where once he had eyes, body a mass of melting pain, Tim spreads wide hands blistered and nailless and torn, and smiles beautifically, his sacred fiery charge at last fulfilled.
Later, there is more pain, and more blood, and metal screaming and grinding bone and screeching glass and merciless, half-familiar voices around him.
Later still, head screaming from the searing, unwelcome clarity of his new brass-rivet vision, he throws away the tenth cup of tea thrust into his hands by the genially smiling wooden man, and goes walking among the wreckage of the Moon. His unfamiliar optics pick out the scorched shell of a British Medsat, palely lit by Earthlight. It's near death, battered, burned, uprooted from its umbilical attachments to the lunar surface. The airlock judders open to let Tim in, red cross shattered and blackened on the pitted and charred surface of the outer door, inside door's glass spiderwebbed with cracks but still gamely holding out against the vacuum of space.
Tim's footfalls are loud in the echoingly abandoned corridors. He passes the dead, nurses and doctors lying where they fell as the satellite buckled and split, some crushed under their equipment, some lying where they bled out, some left bloody marks as they dragged themselves into wards. Behind the airlocked ward doors, surely the dying still moan, soundproofed out of Tim's life. Emergency lights flicker on and off, alternately bright, antiseptic whiteness and total darkness, casting failing, dancing shadows on the crazed, cracked, bloodied floor. The light hurts Tim's head, and he covers his optics with a bandage to spare his tortured brain, navigating the corridors with cracked fingertips and echoing footsteps. Chooses a door at random, steps into the ward. The room is silent, but for a few gasping, cracked, airless breaths. Tim is reminded of the moanings in the tunnels all those eternal weeks ago, the dead men in tunnelfalls who just won't die. He takes another shuffling step, shuffles around when he encounters an unmoving body with his foot, explores the ward in dazed blindness, smelling sickness and death and blood, hearing hopelessness, seeing nothing.
There's a dry cough to his left, and to his right a rattling, juddering last breath, and Tim stops, drawn up short, because that breath sounds his name in impossible, familiar tones, and then is gone.
His heart stops. He rips the bandage from his eyes, flooding his vision with white flickering emergency lights, with blood and the dying, and with the nightmare.
Tim lets out a howl, wordless and meaningless and bottomless, like a wounded animal, like a dying man, like Lucifer falling. Knees and strength give out all at once. Strings cut, he lands on his knees, sprawled across the bed, rocking and shuddering, fists clenched, the unearthly despair sound still tearing out of him from the bottom of his irreparably stained soul.
Under his desperately shaking body, the fresh corpse cools slowly, bereft of the machines that were holding him together, orphaned of their care by the blast which must have blown out both main and auxiliary life support. The dead man has bandaged stumps where once he had long, strong legs, his broad chest has been crushed and crumpled on one side, his smiling, dimpled face now gaunt and etched with unimaginable pain (and now, oh god, waxy and cold and white and bloody-lipped), there's a gaping absence where once there was a laughing grey eye, blonde curls have been shaved away to allow for the livid line of stitches across his scalp, but there is no mistake, could never be a mistake. And broken as he was, he was alive, was awake, was even speaking, and then Tim took his revenge, and now...
And now the wave has broken over Tim a second time, and this time there's no riding it, no using the anger and hatred which fills his every fibre. Because there's no using that white hot fire of revenge when Bertie's killer still lives, will always live, now cannot die.
And now, now he cries, an explosion of tears and pain and keening, hopeless, echoing up from the bottom of the world, thin body wracked, shaking like every world ending at once as he pulls sobs up through every part of him, breathing raw and short and ragged, nothing left but despair and endless, futile pain and rage. Hands tear at his hair and face as if by sheer effort of will he could tear himself apart, kill himself with as much violence and brutality as he killed the Kaiser and his army, but it's hopeless, he can't be killed, he can't forget, he can't escape, it will never be over, he will live forever and he will live with this forever.
Later, Gunpowder Tim leaves the Medsat in its death throes, mechanical eyes unreadable, walks away from the hospital satellite he crippled, returns to the Aurora and the cold, mechanical distraction of her guns, the crew of once-people as hateful as himself. Leaves what was left of his humanity behind in its charnelhouse corridors with the body of his friend/love/victim. Leaves Tim-That-Was to die next to Bertie's body.
Behind him, the Medsat shudders and flares suddenly white in a soundless, soon-snuffed explosion, a funeral pyre for Tim and Bertie. Gunpowder Tim doesn't look back.
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The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 135 - Dark Matter
Statement of Manuela Dominguez regarding her unconventional religious beliefs
I guess that's one way to put it.
I was brought up to believe in the light of God, his radiant, illuminating presence, and the promise that he was coming to banish the darkness forever.
I'm aware that a lot of people who grow up in abusive fundamentalist religious households do 180° turns when they leave but generally that's more fundamentalist Christian to angry atheist. Light of God to God of Darkness is quite a unique turn!
Those rank, pompous balls of fire and light vomiting their radiation out into the nothing, they cannot stand against the overwhelming reality of it.
Okay, I know this is intended to be deadly serious but calling the sun a "pompous ball" is a bit funny.
And I tell them to look again at ‘life,’ at the pain and suffering and misery that it brings with it. The nature that light gives us is corrupt and base, tearing itself into pieces, spinning to its own sick destruction. (...) If the words of my parents hold any truth, then God is the true monster, and “let there be light” the most evil words ever spoken.
I'd be lying if I claimed that this sort of thought hasn't occasionally drifted through my mind as well, you know.
Scientifically, it was nonsense, of course. Dark energy and the like don’t work like that, not even remotely. But that wasn’t important. What mattered was that it felt like science, and that was all I needed
I appreciate that this statement points this out significantly because there have been multiple statements where, especially when I was listening with my partner, we ran into the problem of "But that's not remotely what that means!" But I think TMA has always implied - and here it states outright - that that doesn't matter, it's all based on the fears people hold within them.
Three astronauts, and one unlucky nyctophobe, sealed in a lightless box, silenced, but not sedated, apparently indistinguishable from the rest of the supplies.
This was the one part of the statement that genuinely gave me the shivers. That poor nameless fucker...
Jan was always a bit of an idiot. So ready to believe anyone’s lies. But I suppose I don’t need to tell you that, do I, Gertrude?
a) Ouch! b) Is this explicitly intended as needling of the "You're no better than us in the end" variety?
Elias: Good luck, Detective.
I do love how Elias insists on calling Basira "detective" for no apparent other reason than to be an ass.
My impression of this episode
This episode is particularly interesting to me because of its religious framing - it really rubs in the fact that the worshippers of the Dark are, at their heart, a church with all that entails. The post-statement conversation of Basira and Elias is also interesting from a "furthering the overarching plot" sort of perspective. I was definitely left going "What is the fucker planning" when I listened to it the first time round. This time round it is rather interesting to watch Elias engineer Jon getting marked by all the powers in turn.
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long headcanon about the duality of love and the mahjarrat condition pertaining to it from his point of view. if you read all this babble i swear to god, i love you, i hope you have a good day.
cw: sex addiction, child neglect, unhealthy coping, unrequited pains.
reason for writing: hi i want to die bc of angst.
i think we all know even without playing medieval xp grind lore game, runescape, that sliske is old. very old. he tells us in endgame there's not much he hasn’t done with his life over thousands of years, even traveling to other planets and realms to just see what was out there and how far he could get. i’ve always projected his age as somewhere between more than 8,000 or even more than 10,000. we’re never given a timeline to how long the children of mah have lived. sliske has done a lot with his time; he’s killed a god, had quite a few elder relics in his grasp, SPOKEN to a elder god and managed not to die, mastered shadow magicks, has an excellent grasp on the shadow realm. he’s good with biology, chemistry, has a fair understanding of soul magic which is kind of a rare brand of knowledge, he’s tricked probably thousands into bad contracts to become wights in his army, understands the psychology and bad morals of people. he was a playwright, a high ranking officer, a spymaster. dude is just a determined polymath. you know what he hasn’t done? love. he’s never got to play with love.
mahjarrat are explained as having emotions, but dulled ones. they feel rage and pride apparently better than others. kharshai said after years of really believing he was a human, that when he came back to his true form he states “i feel raw power coursing through my veins. i don't feel pain like i used to, and i'm sure my intellect has increased. but somehow there is something missing. a capacity for emotion that i can't quite put my finger on.” they aren’t equipped for the same range of positive emotions as others are. they feel it, but they don’t understand it fully, it has been said by developers. this whole bit is sadly funny considering in canon, sliske catches feelings. he doesn’t realize he’s attracted to the player character. it’s stated many times, in his journals, in dialogue, etc. he believes their fates are tangled no matter what. and the saddest bit is he probably doesn’t understand these feelings and it confuses him to the point of anger.
“ love! a mahjarrat in love? ... i almost wish that were true. it would certainly make the universe a more interesting place. ”
“ so perhaps i have loved you. but that doesn’t mean i have to like you.”
sliske’s main goal started off as to take the players immortal, unable to be crushed by the divine, soul and give it to himself so he could live forever, as mahjarrats do not have afterlives, once they die they are done, evaporated into energy.
but in endgame we learn something from him hidden in masks that refutes that;
“I love you for more than your soul.”
you STUPID fucker, you’re in love.
the remainder of this is a lot of NON-CANON, personal headcanon interpretation that pretty much only works on this blog. as a rough summary: sliske’s ol’ mum was not fond of her kids, half-brother wahisietel or sliske since she did not see them as powerful as herself and was disappointed that's what her legacy came out to. a short, beefy, average at magic son, she had another go and was still disappointed with this spidery, scrawny, gifted but absolutely annoying stick underweight child. his father, saw him once or twice in his life and that was it. dyeosuthua wanted nothing more than to make them disappear and try again until she got offspring she didn’t want to throw into a lava pit in secrecy, infanticide was against tribal law due to population issues. sliske’s mother’s neglect was so severe, ( by the absolute boundless joys of rp development and mutual heacanons ♥ ) that wahi and nabor had an attempt at raising him and keeping him from freezing to death. why is all this jargon important? because while all mahjarrats are raised by tough love, sliske’s attention deprivation from his mother was so severe, he grew up and still has a slew of reactive attachment, psychological, and social issues he still carries as an adult. several times she threatened to kill him and almost made good on it more than twice. when wahisietel had proven he was a survivor of the first ritual of rejuvenation, sliske became dyeosuthua’s main target for abuse despite his gift for magic at a young age. nothing he did could impress her enough. and it left him constantly seeking approval and validation to an insecure mind.
the more he grew, the more confident he became mainly out of spite and to get attention. he’s loud, charming, makes you the only person in the room when he talks to you. he has an innate silver-tongued ability that persuades people to do just about anything. it was a front for his insecurities that he kept very very closed up. in the second age/senntisten capital, sliske had a pretty severe sex addiction as it was one of the few ways he felt validated and was able to get affection in a way he could digest. people with reactive attachment disorders often have sex addictions to fill the space of acceptance without having to commit.. easy, feel good intimacy without having to open up and let someone learn about your vulnerabilities and commit. it was pretty severe, considering mahjarrats find any kind of breeding or intimacies outside their ‘superior species’ as downright foul. sliske had always been the black sheep of the tribe and with his status as praefectus praetorio; head of secret police, really nothing put a damper on him trying to fill the void for affection he had. there wasn’t a species or individual he wouldn’t bed. he would easily take up propositions even for people who just wanted to fuck a mahjarrat because it was ‘exotic’ or because of his status as an officer, he now looks back on this and it bruises his insecurities even more that he allowed himself to do that. not out of pride for his species. but himself, being just a thing to be had because of rarity. azzanadra and his brother, wahisietel found out about it and while disgusted, partially understood what he was doing to negatively self soothe. at one point sliske and azzanadra, the champion of their god and head of the church, as well of one of the strongest living of their kin, had a lasting tryst for a few years and for awhile it made sliske feel very much self important in a way and alleviated his need to be needed so badly, this did not end well when sliske grew tired of their empire and wanted freedom. once childhood best friends and lovers had become absolute enemies once sliske became too unstable and azzanadra became too zealous.
sliske gave up his sexcapades for a long time, thousands of years, his libido dropped when he became interested in other projects and self healing when he was hit with the idea that he hasd essentially allowed himself to be an exotic fling and still burned over becoming his god, zaros, scapegoat after all he had done for him. love was a weird concept to him and still is. despite being adamant love doesn’t exist for his kind, and his belief that he is flawed, unstable, and embraced the idea of ‘you want a monster? fine! i’ll be the monster!’. he expects no pity, not be forgiven to things he has done and even in game when you sycophantically try to cozy to him, he straight up calls out your text choice was awful considering some of the shitty things he might have done to you.
to sliske, all attention to him is attention, whether you’re praising or insulting him. he’s on your mind, he exists, that’s all he wants.
backstory aside the real part of this headcanon is that sliske actually wants love. it’s the only thing aside from an immortal soul he hasn’t had. sliske actually has an attraction to humans because they are empathetic, curious, passionate, and determined. he has an easier time assimilating and being around them since he has ALWAYS had a better sense of humor, socializing, and happiness than his kin. he feels emotions a lot stronger than his fellow mahjarrats. it allows him to talk to and connect to humans and humanlike species better. others of his kind have told him there’s “something wrong” with him for that. he’s actually a romantic, even if he’s just mimicking romance stories, movies, and actions from others. he thinks the idea of settling with one person and loving them is both mortifying and interesting. opening yourself up to someone and giving them the hammer to smash your cherry-red painted porcelain heart and seeing if they do, to him might be the ultimate form of trust and biggest gamble of russian roulette. the stakes are so heavy he’s high on the idea. but it’s also horrifying. mahjarrat are prolific for not opening up, not allowing others in, vulnerability out in the open is a death sentence. they live in a kratocracy/meritocracy where they kill off the weakest link. it’s not pretty. being soft is a useless, unnecessary, weak gene to them. it dampers survival.
but yet sliske keeps reading romance novels, writing his own confused poetry, and getting into unrequited one sided loves but practicing a backstabbing betrayal when one gets too close. i have to hurt them before they hurt me, betray and cut them down before they can do it to me. i think he wants to be loved. i think he kinda wants to be taught to love, for the emotions and the sake of knowledge. ( brb james newton howard’s ‘true love’s kiss’ from maleficent just came on spotify and i think i’m going to die bc i did not ask for background music thanks!!! ) he wouldn’t be the best at it, maybe a little too possessive with you, codependent, but very nurturing and fun loving. will sepnd a whole week spooning you.. people who hurt you past, present, and future may end up dead in mysterious ways or turned into a wight for you to beat the shit out of. but he’d try. he’s still got a broken child sitting behind his third rib. i think he would snarl the first few times someone genuinely got close to him, it would terrify him, being known on such a skinned, raw level. having gentle touches that are real and not a come hither to the bedroom. being known for something other than the confident, ego he has is death. he could be taught to be gentle for a crumb of consistent attention. might even cut down the murders and god killing down by 15%. love is not going to fix him, it’s not going to forgive the actual shitty things he’s done. it should never do that. but it will turn the lights on in a dark house.
love could really break him. i think so.
i’d type more but this has gone on too long and i feel sad-happies.
#me @ me: die bitch#yell at me in an ask if i roasted both you and i at 450 deg f and basted you with butter and rosemary with a good wine too#// long post#✦ │ 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 & 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 ––– i do hate parting with information.
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Soulmate with the anticrist?
Warning, graphic details of nearly dying and mentions of torture. Do not read if these things are triggering or offensive to you. The start to a sexual scene but nothing explicit. This is a soul mate AU; you have a red spot on the place you touch your soulmate the first time.
Year:Date:Month: 1946, 5th, April
Location: Saint Agnes church, Florida, United States of America
“Bless me father for I am about to sin.” A smirk came from the young man. The priest next to him shuffled slightly. “It’s been years since my last confession.”
“What will you do my child?” The priest asked, he looked over at the wall, sweat gathered on his forehead, he felt the temperature rise within the confession booth. However, the priest couldn’t help but feel curious, not many confessed to him before they sinned.
The outline of the man was the only thing visible, something seemed off about him. He felt something get stuck in his throat, clawing to get out. The pain made tears form in his eyes, he tried to scream out for help, but no sound came.
“I will take my revenge, on someone who hurt me many years ago.” The smirk grew wider as the man clenched his fist. The priest cleared his throat, unable to properly breath, he had to get away.
“Someone who took everything from me.” The voice was strained, raw emotions clear. Anger, sadness, and fear. This was revenge.
The priest fell out of the booth, desperately trying to claw his way towards help. The man stepped out and looked down upon the priest. The man sent a kick towards his ribs, breaking them in the progress.
“Don’t you remember me father? How you took me in, kept me bound and said I had run away?” He knelt down as he grabbed the priest’s hair. His eyes turned black as the skin underneath his fingers started sizzling. Bobbles formed of fatty tissue, threatening to burst open at any moment.
The priest tried to say something but couldn’t, he puked up blood. A clump was in the blood, fear like any other settled into the priest. A frog like creature came out as with the blood. It had mucus green spikes all over its back, yet it appeared that some of the spikes were broken or missing.
The fear filled the air. Sweet fear that all could fell, the church cooled down, ice formed on the windows, threatening to break them if the wind blew on them.
The demon chuckled as he picked up the frog. It snuggled into his palm, the spikes not affecting him. “Such a dainty little thing. Fully capable of love and thoughts. My familiar. You see when you tried to exercise the demon out of me. I was what… six, seven? But now…” He trailed off as he stood up.
The frog disappeared from his hand. A low chuckle came from him, all the emotion was replaced by triumph, the demon had won.
“I’m much older, much stronger. You are no more. I will personally drag you to hell, as you made me call out for it. Call out for a chance to be released. You made your own destiny.” (Y/N) laughed as the priest began chanting an exorcism rite.
“Please, I am in my own body.” He snapped his fingers, making the priest disappear. Silence filled the church. A contempt sigh escaped his lips as he made his way towards the exit.
(Y/N) had fully intended to walk out but he felt the air change as time slowed down. A bullet was sent his way, but he managed to dodge it. (Y/N) immediately turned around, his eyes looked upon a man… no this wasn’t a man. This was nothing but an empty shell of a slave.
He had noticed that the humans frequently did this to their own, so many souls came down to hell and only needed a slight push before they became a demon. It disgusted him that someone could do that to their own.
It seemed his dodging took the slave off guard, but he quickly moved towards him, (Y/N) smirked as he disappeared, leaving what had once been a human to his demise. He couldn’t think straight, his mind was too focused on the years of torture he was going to put that monster through.
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Years on earth had gone by, (Y/N) had stayed in hell for well over a thousand years. He had grown bored of the priest. So instead of keeping him as a pet, he let his sister have the not so human soul.
(Y/N) had appeared in a park. It was dark, yet the moon was full and on its highest, he could feel the energy coming from her. There was only one human in the park but didn’t recognise him.
Why would he? He looked around at the changing world, he didn’t recognise anything. Though he knew once he found a corrupt human soul to eat, he would know all the technology of this new world.
(Y/N) looked down at his hand, demons had no soul mate. They simply didn’t have a soul worthy of it. Yet he had been human once, he had once been innocent. Tears threatened to form, he blinked them away.
(Y/N) longed for the innocence.
He had been broken and forced into the arms of demons. It had its perks but also, it’s downfall. If he had ever seen a therapist, he would be locked away. A small smile broke out on his face as he shook his head. He was fucked up and didn’t hide it.
He felt the other man walk up behind him; on instinct he turned his head, startling the human. The human seemed vaguely familiar. “How did you hear me?” The man asked. (Y/N) stood up and crossed his arms.
“Pardon my language, but who the fuck, are you?” The man looked away, clearly regretting this.
“Never mind.” The man turned around and started walking. (Y/N) groaned silently and appeared in front of the stranger. He placed a hand on the strangers’ chest.
He didn’t realise the world around him exploded into vibrant colours, everyone could see colours but the moment you met the one, the whole world became worth fighting for. It became vibrant. To his defence, it was very much night.
“Listen here fucker,” (Y/N) pushed the man over towards the bench, the man fully let him, unable to say anything. “I do recognise you but, and excuse me for being cautious, I have not been here for over a thousand years, so my manners are a bit rough. But…” He noticed the man was staring at him with amazement and not fear. It took the demon by surprise. Well he wasn’t actually one but he damn near acted like it.
(Y/N) looked at his hand on the persons chest, the subtle glow made him recoil his hand. From fear of hurting the human. He had been about to disappear out of pure terror, but the man grabbed his arm.
“Don’t leave. You were in that church.” Bucky stood up. He held onto the others arm as he watched his face go from confusion to realisation and into utter fear again.
“It’s been 70 years, how are you still alive?” Bucky asked, always having assumed that his soulmate had long since died. He pulled his shirt up with his metal hand, it showed the mark on his chest. (Y/N) tore his arm from Bucky’s grip.
“You… You shouldn’t have seen me like that. I was young and I wanted revenge…” (Y/N) looked at Bucky. “I was a monster. Though you seem to not care. Why?”
Bucky shrugged. “We have all done things, things we weren’t in control off. I spend years as a brain washed assassin. My point is, whatever you were in that church, it doesn’t seem to be there anymore. The man I remember wouldn’t ever have his fear written all over his face, but you do.” Bucky took the males hands and intertwined their fingers. His hands were colder than anything Bucky had ever felt before.
“… There is something you need to know.” (Y/N) braced himself for the fear his soulmate would undoubtedly have.
“You aren’t human?” Bucky asked amused. “I kind of figured that out with all the disappearing things and well… your eyes are currently all black.”
(Y/N) hadn’t even realised his eyes had switched, he felt as if he was a hatchling all over again. “I’m sorry for this. I really am… I’m (Y/N) Morningstar, son of the Morningstar himself. The not so excited anti-Christ or whatever humans call me.” (Y/N) shrugged as he looked directly at Bucky.
Bucky chuckled slightly as he sat down. He was amused. (Y/N) hadn’t expected this reaction. “My soulmate is not only a cambion but also the son of Satan, I’m James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”
(Y/N) hummed slightly before smirking. “Bucky… What a pretty name.”
Bucky looked over at the halfling. His whole body shifted to fully see the other. “(Y/N),” his eyes starred at Bucky.
“How do I get in contact with you?” Bucky gently took the males hands.
(Y/N) gently let go of Bucky’s hands and instead cupped his cheeks. “Know this Bucky, I am neither demon nor angel, neither alive nor dead, my destiny will be to end all life, but if you call. I shall come, I named myself (Y/N), my real name is not spoken out loud, so I shall whisper it. Think of my true name and I shall appear.” (Y/N) said and waited for Bucky to slowly nod.
Bucky nodded slightly, confused but also happy. He blushed as (Y/N) leaned down, his lips touched his ear. Bucky closed his eyes, savouring the moment. (Y/N) whispered a name so foul the flowers around them died.
Though the name had no effect on Bucky, he dared not to say it out loud. (Y/N) stood up as he looked around, his eyes landed on Bucky before he smirked. “Are you heading home or staying out?”
“I think we can work something out.” Bucky smirked.
Bucky lead (Y/N) all the way home, once inside his small apartment (Y/N) pushed Bucky against the wall, his lips immediately found Bucky’s. Bucky instantly kissed back, his hands grabbed (Y/N)’s waist, pulling him in closer. (Y/N) shrugged his jacket off, letting it drop to the ground.
His lips travelled down Bucky’s neck. He stopped right before the shirt and pulled away. Bucky panted slightly as he looked down at (Y/N), he gently lifted (Y/N)’s head up and kissed him. A sweet kiss, one shared between lovers.
Bucky and (Y/N) spend the night together. Every moment was spent fully awake and in total bliss. When morning came and Bucky came to it. He saw (Y/N) was gone but a note was left on the table. He stood up and read it over
My dearest Bucky
I regret that I cannot be near you at the moment you wake.
I wish I could see your soft smile but alas I have hell business to take care off. I shall be here soon; await my arrival and we shall spend every day together.
-Your (Y/N)
Bucky smiled as he placed the note where he had found it. He looked around the small apartment and found (Y/N) had left his shirt and most of his clothes. Bucky hesitantly grabbed the jacket, still butt naked. It held a faint scent of sulphur. It was strangely comforting.
He managed to pull on some pants before Steve walked in. He looked at Bucky with a weird smile. “I didn’t know you were into one-night stands.” Steve chuckled. Bucky turned around as he faced Steve, he looked confused until Steve pointed at his neck.
“You have hickeys all over.” A chuckle came from the blonde.
Bucky walked out into the bathroom before smiling deeply. “Damn, he really did a good job, huh.” Bucky said with a happy voice, his hand went up to touch the bruises. None of them hurt.
“He?” Steve asked amused, “You seem very happy, who did you meet?” Steve saw the letter and picked it up. He thought it was orders. He glanced it over.
“My soulmate.” Steve dropped the letter as he choked on his spit.
“You met your soulmate? I thought they were born in the same generation as you.”
Bucky walked out of the bathroom, he looked over at Steve and shrugged. “He could have had the same issues as I had. Or something similar.”
Steve crossed his arms, distrust growing in him. He didn’t want to accuse his oldest friend of lying, yet he felt as though Bucky was hiding the truth. Bucky, as if having sensed the distrust, sighed. “Fine. He is immortal. Which is weird, I saw him as the soldier, back in 45. Happy?”
Steve nodded, satisfied with the explanation. “What is he, a warlock?” He asked as he sat down.
Bucky shrugged slightly, “I don’t know. We didn’t do a lot of talking.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, “Not that I mind that, it did help me find out about a lot of… things.” Steve chuckled; memories of his friend’s old ways surfaced.
“Well it sounds like you two had a wonderful night. I will be looking forward to meeting him, when you are ready and if you think he can know about our operation.” Steve stood up.
“Which reminds me. Tomorrow morning at 0600 sharp. We are getting debriefed. Some demons are gathering on the top, more so then there have been in years.” Steve moved towards the door.
“I will be there. I owe the operation my life. Demon scum will no longer rule the earth or control any humans.” Bucky said, a bad taste in his mouth. The operation had saved him from being a brainless slave, an empty shell for demons to use as a field soldier. Something they could just get rid of if they wished.
“I know, trust me Bucky, there will be revenge.” Steve said and gave Bucky a pitying smile. Bucky hated those smiles but didn’t say anything as Steve walked out.
#bucky x male reader#bucky barnes x male reader#marvel fanfiction#sfw#cute#bit of fluff#soulmate#soulmate au#soulmark#bucky
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Blood Daffodils.
Chapter 3: Trade.
Harry had thought that the jealousy he used to feel whenever he saw Ginny with Dean was bad enough. He was wrong.
Looking back to it, his ‘chest monster’ felt like this little angry kitten in comparison to what he felt when he would see Malfoy crying for Nott.
The pull in his stomach from when he was in denial? Oh, that was just the beginning of it all. Harry could swear that every time he felt jealous over Nott, a hole got deeper and deeper on his stomach, making him feel nausea. And since he couldn’t scream at the boy that he shouldn’t be in love with such a fucking prick... well, Harry would just walk around the house with his moody face on.
“You know we can all sense your magic being angry right now, right?” Sirius would say to him. It had become an habit at this point, a way to bring up the topic of conversation without specifically talking about it. Even though, the green eyed boy, knew that his Dad and Padfoot had the slightest idea about how he felt, the just didn’t talk about it.
Bill’s and Fleur’s wedding was approaching and Malfoy had been pretty much happily surprised when Ron told him that he was invited.
“I think I‘ve spoken ten sentences with your brother... I kinda talked to Fleur back in forth year... You shouldn’t force them to invite me Weasley.” Was the first thing that the boy had said.
“Ferret, I’m just giving you the invitation. Do what you want but know that I didn’t say a bloody thing to Bill.”
And it was kind of true..? Ron only mentioned to Molly that it would be really rude not to invite Malfoy if Dad, Padfoot and him were going... Not to mention that Draco was now one of his closest friends and he didn’t think that it was much to ask. Next thing he knew, his best friend had an invitation with the blond boy’s name on it.
One thing led to another and the three of them found themselves engaged in a conversation, with his father and Padfoot too, about if they planned to have a family when this was all over. And in case of the other two men, if they had wished to be parents back in the first war.
His dad answer that yes, he did want to have a kid back then... Maybe he would have like not to be running from Voldemort at the time, that Harry wasn’t planned but he was pretty much loved since they knew he existed.
Ron said that he would like a couple of kids running around his house one day. Not as much as them, since he suffered being outshined by having so many siblings, but maybe two or three would be nice. Harry just snorted as he responded.
“Are you kidding? Your family is awesome. I want to have like five, minimum.”
“I believe you should ask your future wife, Potter. Maybe she doesn’t want to be a brood mare.”
The comeback was burning his tongue: ‘Maybe I’ll marry a nice guy and adopt the kids, Malfoy’. He restricted himself from saying it in that moment... He still hadn’t talk to Padfoot and dad... He kind of wanted to come out to them first, since they were the first ones to comment on the possibility of Harry liking boys too. Well, about Harry liking Draco in particular.
Padfoot said that he always saw himself like the cool uncle, but that after Harry was born he kind of wished to have a kid of his own (before everything went to shit obviously). He didn’t like the sound of that... Now that Padfoot was free maybe he would get a family of his own, Harry was not alone anymore... He didn’t have an obligation to take care of him. And he was still young, thirty-eight years was a perfectly good age to meet someone and be a parent. It was kind of ridiculous to think that he wasn’t with his dad, though. He tried to change the subject.
“What about you, Draco?” The blond boy looked at him as if he were stupid. “Forget about you condition for a second! If everything were good and the sun would shine everyday: would you like to have kids?”
“No.”
Harry blinked. It sounded so final, like he had thought about it a lot and came to this major conclusion.
“Why not, kid?” His father asked in a kind voice, Harry could not articulate a single word. The blond boy rolled his eyes and began to explain, leaving everyone speechless too.
“Did you know that your son had to kill a teacher in his first year? Or that he voluntarily went inside of the Chamber of Secrets with the monster to save Ginevra when he was twelve? Not to mention that time when your lovely best friend went to see him to a quidditch match and the dementors started to suck his soul away and he fell off his broom.” Everyone was his staring at him, dumbfounded. “Oh! I forgot that these two fucker drove a flying car to Hogwarts instead of just waiting for the Weasleys to realize that they couldn’t go through the barrier by themselves (ALSO WITH TWELVE YEARS OLD). And that’s just the beginning of it; your son seems to attract danger and if his life is going too normal for his liking he just tries to kill himself. You know why?”
Harry was blushing so hard, he felt so embarrassed and stupid now that the blond boy was saying it like that. At least about the car... that was rather unnecessary.
“Because that’s how a gryffindor kid is. There is this tiny possibility that if I have a kid, he would be a bloody terror like the four of you. I can’t handle the stress. I can’t let my kid be in the hands of another person, of the professors, for an entire year, trusting that they are okay and then get a bloody letter asking for my presence at the school because my son or daughter has been petrified, like it happened to Granger’s parents. And that was worst because they are muggle and they had to be explained that there was a beast trying to kill students around the school. I didn’t even understand how they let her come back after that. I would bloody lock up that poor child and hugged them until they turn seventeen.”
Harry had thought that he was already as in love with the boy as he could be... All he could gather from what Malfoy said was that he would care so deeply about his kid that he could not bare to see them in any kind of danger. It just made him love him even more.
“Come on, Ferret! What if you have a little snake running around the castle? Wouldn’t you be proud?”
“I think that would actually be worst because maybe I wasn’t suicidal like your lot, but I managed to do my fair amount of dangerous things and my father doesn’t even have a clue. Hanahaki aside of course because, that night at the ministry, was pretty much the only suicidal thing I’ve ever did.”
Sirius and his father chuckled. The green-eyed boy was just listening, trying not to be so bloody obvious about how endearing he found Draco’s arguments. Ron couldn’t let it go, apparently.
“Oh, for Godric! Picture this: your one true love asks you to have children, because he thinks that is his purpose in life, to have a family. You would just say no?”
Draco seemed to be taken by surprise, like he didn’t expect the question. His grey’s eyes took a quick glance at Harry before stuttering an answer. Maybe he had been so obvious about his jealousy, that the blond boy was, now, doubting before talking about Nott.
“I- I think” He pushed his hair out of his face and blushed a little. “I don’t have it in me to say no to him. Not if it’s something that he wants so deeply. But they would definitely be terrors then, so I would probably die from a heart attack by the time they turn thirteen.”
Harry felt like he could cry right then and there. He tried to act aloof and to laugh when everyone did but soon enough he excused himself to go to his room, saying that he had a headache and that he needed to lay down for a bit.
He heard when Ron left, he heard someone starting to cook dinner... The dark-haired boy didn’t want to go downstairs and face him. He never had been good at lying and each time he talked to Malfoy he felt like he must just know.
Someone knocked softly on the door.
“Come in.”
He heard the door open and close before someone walked towards his bed and sat at the end of it. The smell of nicotine invaded his nostrils. Padfoot.
“Are you going to tell us, at some point, how you feel or we should just keep on guessing?” The man asked with a soft and playful voice. Harry was already pissed off so he kind of blurted out a comeback.
“Are you going to explain to me why you and dad aren’t together or am I supposed to keep collecting information from the fights I hear every now and then?”
Sirius was silent for a moment, then he sighed and said:
“Fair enough. How about a trade?”
Harry blinked and sat on the bed. He wasn’t expecting that, Sirius had been evasive since last year and now he was just going to tell him? It sounded like a trap. He fixed his glasses and arched an eyebrow.
“Fine, but you go first.”
“I am hurt that you would think that I would not keep my word, Prongslet.” He said in a very dramatic manner. Harry just raised his eyebrows and waited ‘Do I look stupid to you?’
“I kind of think that James would tell the story a little different, so-“
“I’m asking you, Sirius.”
“Just... try not to freak out? James said that you wouldn’t be mad or react badly but he is your father and I’m not, so..”
Harry frowned.
“Is that what you think? That I love dad more than you or something?” He tried to sound as calm as possible, trying to be understanding about the whole thing, but it sounded so fucking ridiculous that he just couldn’t. Sirius looked away, so he grabbed his hand and tried to make him understand. “Padfoot, you are my family. I think you are the closest thing I had to a father before dad came back... That feeling didn’t go away. I love you, okay?”
A tear escaped from his right eye and he quickly cleaned it away.
“I- I love you too. So so much. I know I don’t say it often, you can blame my awful family for how awkward I am at this things, but I do.”
Harry pulled him into a hug, and closed his arms around him tightly. After a while, Sirius pulled away.
“So...” he started, nervous as he looked away. “You know that James and me have been friends since first year. I pretty much saw him and decided that he was my favorite person in the world.” A soft smiled appeared in his face but was promptly replaced by a sour expression. “I didn’t think much of it. We soon became very close in our group and I just thought that it was because we were best friends... Something happened to me every time he talked about Lily, though.” He got jealous, obviously. Harry didn’t say anything because he was afraid that if he interrupted Padfoot, then he would regret telling him at all. He just nodded. “Well, as the years went by, your mother didn’t even look twice his way and your dad used to tell me how pretty she was or that the boys she liked were stupid... By the time we were in forth year, I knew that what I felt for him wasn’t just friendship. Before that, maybe I used to look at him and thought that his smile was really pretty and my brain just went full on internalized homophobia mode and buried that thought really deep.”
Harry couldn’t help but to laugh at that, and when Sirius turned to look at him, he just shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said between laughs.“I just get it.” His godfather smiled softly at him and continued the story.
“Yeah, that year I started to ask, to see if he liked boys too but he got really defensive and told me that ’No, of course not’”He sighed.” In our fifth year we were kind of drunk and James kissed me.” Of course his dad made the first move, he could barely avoid flirting with Padfoot even now. “And I thought that he finally had gotten over Lily, you know? I kissed him back and didn’t even ask a single thing... You can imagine my surprise when the next day he barely looked at me and the day after that, he asked you mum to Hogsmade again.”
Harry frowned then, utterly confused.
“What?” Sirius just nodded.
“It became this regular thing that we didn’t talk about. Whatever happened stayed between us, I suspect that Moony knew about it... The rat too, probably.” Sirius never spoke Pettigrew’s name. It was almost like Voldemort to him now, maybe even worst. “When I’ve moved here, it was different. Your grandparents never asked but James was hardly subtle.” ‘Yeah, no shit’. “I just had to asked him, you know? What were we doing, if it meant something to him... And when he couldn’t give me a straight answer I just lost it and went to my room. Pretty much acted like nothing ever happened after that. Your dad stopped asking Lily out, though... which in the end was for the best, because she finally gave in to his charms and you know the rest of the story.”
Harry was just trying to process the information, it didn’t make any sense but most of all, a single question kept appearing in his head. He had to ask it.
“He made you his best man and my godfather even though you used to be together?” Harry pulled a face, Sirius looked at him with sad eyes.
“I knew you weren’t going to like this. I know it must be so weird for you, I’m sorr-“
“No! I don’t care about that! But weren’t you hurt, Padfoot? It seems awfully cruel.” Sirius just blinked.
“Oh. No... not at all. I was just surprised that it lasted for that long. And we were still best friends, I couldn’t just not be his best man and I loved you since I’ve first saw you... my mini prongs. I was honored to be your godfather.” He said as he pinched his cheek. “But that brings us to the actual question: Why are we not together? Well, beside the fact that he looks gorgeous right now and I’m just this old-post-Azkaban-being... I don’t think that he really feels what he says. It wouldn’t be the first time that we’ve been down this road, and I’m way more old now, not as naive, and not with the same strength in my heart, Harry.”
And he totally got it. He understood what the man was saying, but he could not help but to think that the way that his dad looked at Sirius was not just temporary. His dad told him that, even then, he thought that Padfoot was the most perfect person in the world... How could someone think that and claim to be in love with someone else? And if they were like this now... How did they managed to hide it from everyone back then when they really were together? No, if his mother was as half as brilliant as his father claimed she was, she most definitely knew about them... Maybe she just didn’t care... Or maybe she finally made a move on James when she saw that Padfoot and him had already broken up...? Could it be called a break up if they didn’t even pronounced the words? If they stayed silent like Sirius had said.
“Padfoot, you were just kids. I see how he looks at you, okay? Forget about whatever he did. If you feel the same just go for it.”
Sirius just chuckled and shook his head.
“You sound just like him sometimes.”
Harry just smiled and shrugged.
“Malfoy always says that you and I talk the same. Maybe I’m this mixture of the two of you.” He saw Padfoot’s eyes shine with expectation at the mention of Draco. “Call dad for this part, I wanted to tell you both at the same time.”
Sirius went to get James almost skipping towards his room. Malfoy must had been the one cooking the delicious meal that Harry could smell in the air.
Soon enough, the two men were in his room, sitting on the bed, waiting. Harry rolled his eyes.
“I think that this is unnecessary. Clearly, you both already know.” Sirius was about to say something but his dad nudge him with his elbow. “But fine. I like him, alright? I mean, no, I liked Ginny, I love him. Now, I know the difference. So that makes me, clearly, not straight. I suppose that I’m bi... But I only kissed Ginny, couldn’t go further than that. Didn’t feel right.”
His dad and Padfoot just looked at him with kind eyes.
“Thank you for telling us, Harry.” His father said with a smile.
“Yeah, Prongslet... And I’ve been thinking since the battle that maybe this thing, the whole being Theodore thing it just-“ But Harry interrupted him.
“You see him cry for him don’t you?”
“Yes, but I see how he looks at you too.” His godfather said, so much like Harry had just said to him. Harry looked away.
“Please, don’t say things that you are not sure of. I’ve never felt like this and everything already is complicated enough.”
His father pulled him into a hug, so warm and protective. Harry just hugged him back. After a while, the man whispered into his ear.
“I know you don’t want to hear it but I agree with Padfoot.”
Harry started to get hope, something that he definitely did not need. He couldn’t be so stupid. He saw Malfoy with Nott. It just made sense.
But maybe, just maybe, there was this possibility of Draco, at least, liking him. Of him looking his way...
Fuck, now he had hope. This is why he hated to talk about his feelings. It always seemed to screw him over.
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Foggy window.
The outdoor light barely allowed you to see his silhouette. Still, you watched him through the foggy glass.
He was standing there for the last minutes. His body unmoving. The cold night wind blew his hair, and you saw his head tilted up, staring up at the moon.
You lifted your hand and traced his face features. It didn’t take you much to remember how his warm skin felt under your fingertips. Your finger touched the ghost of his forehead and caressed his face down with feather light touch, you made sure to bop the tip of his nose with a low giggle and stopped on his deliciously kissable lips.
You heard a low sigh and came out of your reveries in time to see him run his fingers over his long hair.
Your hand longed the feeling of his strands around your fingers. The smell of his hair near your nose when he whispered something in your ear. How it tickled your skin, leaving goosebumps on its wake. The way you mourned the loss of his warm presence by your side.
You closed your eyes and let your mind wander. You were taken to the first day you met outside your work and how much of a flirty he was.
You remembered how breathless you were when your eyes first met his. Your skin reacted by instinct, and every part of your body wanted to be touched by his. His voice like silk, wrapping you around his words.
You remembered precisely how much his laughter scared you, but not in a bad way… at that moment, you knew you were in trouble because that man stirred something deep inside of you. Something you weren’t ready to acknowledge, let alone feel. Something you wanted, missed, craved even.
His head snapped up again, and you remembered the full moon approached.
There were things he hadn’t told you, you knew that. Things that hurt him deeply. His body, his mind, and his soul.
You wished, and oh how much you wished, you could take his pain away. Kiss him until there was nothing else but you two.
It didn’t matter what he was. All that mattered was who he was.
He was the one and only. The only man in this whole world that made you feel good. Good? That doesn’t reach close to right. He made you feel wanted, cherished, comfortable in your skin. Complete.
With him by your side, you could take the world. Battles could come, and they would sooner than later, but you were prepared because he was there with you, for you. Just like you were there for him.
And you pitied those who dared to make light of him. Not because of what he could do to them, but because they didn’t understand they would never be near the man he was.
He wasn’t the mindless beast some whispered, nor the broken man they thought. He was the balance of both.
He was fierce and strong. He was a force to be reckoned with. He could end a man just by staring him down, or he could simply look at you. His eyes were open and clear when he looked at you.
With just a glance, you understood how much you meant to him. He wanted you, desired you, trusted you with all his being. He would always be naked in front of you. There weren’t layers, there weren’t lies.
It was true there were unspoken things, but you learned long ago that patience is a virtue. You don’t rush things. Things happen when they have to. You trusted him as much as he trusted you.
He would never hurt you.
You knew that because of the way he spoke to you, touched you… kissed you.
Your eyes fell to the window again. You wanted to call out for him. To show him that you were there for him. Through thick and thin. The world could burn, and it wouldn’t matter if he was by your side because you sure wouldn’t leave his… for as long as he would have you.
For as long as he would have you…
You wanted to stand up and open that door, run into his arms, and get lost in his embrace. Yell to the winds how much he meant to you. Scream at the moon and flip it a finger.
You wanted everyone, every little creature and thing to know that you loved him.
You LOVED him!
You would do anything for him!
Fuck the moon, fuck the supernatural, fuck that monster chasing you.
You loved him with everything you had, everything you were, and you were going to fight for that love. You were going to kill that fucker because you couldn’t die.
You couldn’t die before you told him how much you loved him.
You had never told him because you were scared. Afraid to jinx what you two had. What if the thing that hurt him so deeply made him flee from you if he knew it?
Tears stream down your face with the thought of losing him.
In the blink of your eyes, you stood from that couch. Your steps firm on the floor, pushing you forward. Away from those thoughts and into the arms of your love.
Your heart beat fast, almost too quickly. The tears never stopped their way down your face. Your body begged you to close the space between you.
Your shaky hand reached the doorknob. The cold wind slapped your face, and the snow started pilling on your hair and shoulders.
He turned to you, and your eyes met. For a moment too long, none of you moved. A shadow darkened his eyes, and in a split second, he avoided your face. When his gaze fell on you again, your body closed the distance.
Your arms held him close. One of his hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you close. The other cradled your head on the crook of his neck.
His smell was too much. It overwhelmed your senses, and you couldn’t think straight. It was only you and him. Nothing else.
When he tangled his fingers in your hair and tilted your hair back, you didn’t struggle. His lips planted light kisses on your face. Dried the tears that stubbornly refused to stop until his mouth found yours, and you got lost in his taste.
There was so much you wanted to say, so much you want to pour into that kiss. You wanted him to know, no, you needed him to know you loved him.
Begrudgingly your lips parted from his, but he wasn’t going to let you slip away from him; you weren’t going anywhere that wasn’t near him, so he rested his forehead on yours and stared deep down into your eyes… into your soul.
“I love you.” – You whispered on his lips and prayed that he had listened.
His eyes were wide. For a moment, you thought he was shocked, maybe even surprised, but then you understood that it was nothing but relief.
With your insecurities burned away, you heard yourself repeating those words while your fingers dove into his hair, bringing him in for another kiss.
His mouth devoured you. His lips claimed you.
The kiss was suddenly greedy, needy. Everything.
Your name was spoken softly over and over. His confession came in the form of whispered I love you’s, and his shaky breath warmed your face. Your bodies so close one could say you were one.
And into the night you kissed, only pausing to catch your breaths and look into each other’s eyes.
You didn’t care about the snow gathering around you, or the freezing wind biting your skin. You only cared that he was there with you. In your arms.
Of course, you couldn’t stop yourself from chanting the same words over and over. And once you two paused for a second, you caught your lips saying…
“I love you with everything I am, and I sure hope you know that, Blake.”
His answer came in the form of the biggest smile you had ever seen in your life. You made sure to commit every little detail of it to memory before your lips met his again.
------
Sorry for the broken English it is not my native language.
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Playing Kazama's Route Because I Guess I Hate Myself Part 1: Kyoto Winds
So, I'm going to play through everybody's routes on Hakuoki and vent my feelings and frustrations on here! I've already done Saito and Iba but I will play them again soon, too. Next up is Kazama, mostly because I'm curious to find out if this fucker has any redeeming qualities. Maybe if you're into nonces. Idk.
Wow, I had forgotten how gloriously campy this intro is :') I love it so much!
Playing through the prologue because it sets the tone of blood, death and assholes. This game is much more violent, tragic and much less horny than I had predicted and I guess I'm into that.
Aw, Chizuru bae is so lonesome and vulnerable <3
Kodo flashback! HIIISSSSSSSSSS!!! >:(
Just taking a moment to appreciate how beautiful and romantic the nighttime environment and music is <3 At least, until people start getting slashed up X_X
OKAY GAME, WE GET IT: CHIZURU IS HORNY FOR HIJIKATA. GOD.
Okita is enjoying this waaay too much X_X
Chapter 1
WIGGLE WIGGLE WIGGLE
Thank you for untying me, InouBAE!
THEY'VE BEEN DISCUSSING THE SITUATION SINCE MORNING BUT NOBODY THOUGHT TO SUGGEST MAYBE NOT REVEALING MORE SENSITIVE INFORMATION WHILE I'M IN THE ROOM?! I'm surrounded by idiots -_-
Apparently, "They are all truly gentlemen." Uh-huh.
Hooray for Chizuru calling out Okita for being a douche. And Hijikata for calling everyone a bunch of kids! Where is the lie? :')
Um, why has the camera zoomed in on Nagakura's crotch? Chizuru, please control your thirst. This is a life or death situation.
Now Saito's telling Okita to stop being a prick and Okita's response is, "hehe." X_X
Casual suicide jokes... Reminds me of my friends at uni X_X
RUN FOR YOUR LIFE 8O I can't see how this could possibly backfire...
OMG Kondou describing not recognising a girl as "The shame of a lifetime!" XD
"Maybe it's time you spilled your guts, kid." Is he... Is he telling me to commit seppuku?! O_O "I looked at him and nodded." GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD.
Although, with Harada threatening to strip me, suicide doesn't look like such a bad option X_X Tell me, Inoue, WHERE ARE THESE GENTLEMEN YOU WERE TELLING ME ABOUT?!
Feminist Hijikata wants to kill me regardless of gender :') We stan a woke queen.
Feminist icon Sanan also thinks that gender is irrelevant but doesn't want to kill me because THEIR JOB IS LITERALLY TO PROTECT PEOPLE.
You search so hard for Kodo and he turns out to be such a treacherous snake :'(
Bad feminist Hijikata calls the Shinsengumi "sons of bitches" for feeding me to him as his page. The Shinsengumi are strong, independent bitches in their own right.
Escaping execution but being quietly upset about having to wear ugly boy clothes for the foreseeable future is a mood.
More of Hijikata threatening to cut off Okita's tongue, please!
What does Chizuru have against afternoon drinking :P Clearly she has never enjoyed a long glass of Pimm's on a warm Summer afternoon! I guess she is pretty young...
Hijikata isn't here so can I please sneak out with you guys instead of staring at the wall all day?
Reeeeeeally want to pick the yes to dressing like a girl option but apparently that's not what Daddy Nonce wants :( HE'S NOT EVEN SHOWN UP YET AND HE'S ALREADY RUINING MY FUN! >:(
Well, now we're literally running away from Nagakura and Inoue. I'm getting High School flashbacks.
Wait, why is Heisuke being weird about Saito being in my room? Did this happen last time too? Maybe I just forgot or maybe it's because I was hanging out with Heisuke and Harada before...
This dinner is terrifying.
Survival of the fittest? More like survival of the FATTEST! Amirite? Anyone? No? I'll stop.
Takeda admittedly has a point about you not earning your place in the Shinsengumi. And he has great hair. So I can almost forgive him for being a mega bitch.
"His swordsmanship is decent, BUT he is well read and possesses a cunning mind for military science." Not sure if a translation error or Hijikata just hates nerds?!
Does accompanying Hijikata as his page get me bonus Kazama Sexy Points purely because it pisses Hijikata off?
Chizuru once again being in mortal peril but getting distracted by Iba's beautiful face is relatable af.
"Takeda huffed smugly to himself and WADDLED out of the store." What a majestic image we have been blessed with :') The bitchiest penguin ever to waddle this Earth!
Iba happily munching his bean jelly is a MOOD.
Chapter 2
Okita telling you that you're here to keep him company on his rounds is exactly the kind of bullshit that I'd expect from him X_X
Guess I'm just running into a battle...
Oh, it's Kazama. Sitting on the windowsill like the edgy bastard he is.
Aaaand he just killed a guy on his own side. Classic edgelord move.
And apparently I have to thank him for this display if I want him to be my waifu.
Seemingly, Chizuru is thirsty for this slut and is being REALLY FRICKING OBVIOUS ABOUT IT X_X
OH HE DID NOT JUST CALL ME THE SHINSENGUMI'S BITCH. Although, it is somewhat accurate XD STILL A DICK MOVE AFTER I THANKED HIM SO NICELY, THOUGH.
AND HE SAYS THAT I HAVE MANNERS, BUT WHERE ARE YOUR FREAKING MANNERS, YOU EDGY THOT?!!!
I have a feeling that a lot of this will be typed in caps from now on -_-
Oooh he winked! I cannot handle this intense eroticism!
Surprise Saito! My favourite flavour of surprise (see, "Shinsengumi's bitch")!
The Shinsengumi are grateful for my efforts and, thus, have gifted me with the great gift of sweeping <3
Hijikata and Iba are so cute <3
Kazama's being edgy again X_X and murdering people. Classic Kazama.
Oh wow, he's actually calling us peasants.
Aw, we're talented peasants <3 How generous of him!
HOW DARE HE TRASH TALK OKITA LIKE THAT! Wow, I'm actually defending that asshole X_X
Hijikata baring his teeth like an angry doggo XD
I'm super mad at Kazama for killing that poor Shinsengumi guy :'( Such a thoughtless waste of life :'(
Now he's mocking Nagakura's obedience to the Shogun. What are your lofty ideals, Kazama? Ah yes, you want to subjugate and enslave the human race. How... noble...
Okay, so, apparently, Kazama is being a huge, murderous pain in the ass because he's just OH SO CONCERNED for the pride of his human allies. I don't buy it.
Ah, Hijikata called Kazama a petulant child :') Truer words were never spoken!
Okay, now Hijikata is saying that they don't deserve an honourable death?! Wow, Hijikata. That comment is not going to age well, I can tell you.
So maybe I agree with Kazama here!? He still shouldn't have murdered that guy, though.
I seriously don't understand why Hijikata is so keen to slaughter these guys and potentially lose more of his men just to force them to suffer a shameful death?! Maybe he doesn't see dying that way as dishonourable but I have no patience for people forcing their ideals onto others.
Aaah! Kazama throwing Hijikata's insult back in his face is pretty brilliant!
Kazama just sliced me in the face! Sexy?!
Sexy Points with Kazama because he's confirmed your full BROOD MARE potential.
Kazama likes calling people bitches so we have that in common.
So, now Hijikata respects them for committing seppuku?! I am CONFUSED.
Oh, now I'm getting Itou's origin story?! This is unexpected!
Wait, have I broken the game and accidentally romanced Kondou?! What is happening right now?! X_X
Oooh! I'm getting sword training! Yes please! This is better than sex :D
Feminist icon Kondou isn't going easy on me just because I'm a girl :D
Chapter 3
Aka: Sanan's breakdown!
"Those were his last words." O_O I... hope that that's not true...
Okay, now he's throttling me! I take it back! Somebody fillet this crazy fucker!
OMG WAS THAT CRUNCHING SOUND MY NECK?!
But why is he choking me when he could be sipping on my delicious blood? O_o
The awkward moment when your creepy brother is a hotter woman than you X_X
Apparently, Kazama's gazing at me with bloodlust. How romantic.
Haha! Apparently Kazama's hand is "pale and grasping like the tentacle of some hideous subterranean monster." X_X Hot.
Yay! Rescued from tentai boi by HajiBAE and SanoCUTEY! And Harada is calling out Kazama for being a creep :') This is a good day.
Kazama's response burn is weak. The culture and the nose of a dog? What does that even mean? Even if Harada's nose looked like a dog's, that'd still be pretty weak, imo.
Ha! Saito's response is basically just an Uno reverse card but I'm always here for calling Kazama out on his hypocrisy.
Omg, now Yamazaki is kidnapping me and Shiranui's calling him out! None of these hos have any chill!
Amagiri is taking a break from fighting to read Shiranui for being a hotheaded pain in the arse.
Hijikata is rightfully calling me an idiot for drawing my sword on Kazama :')
Kazama's insults are so blunt and childish but it's so funny! He just called Hijikata a weak shit! Apparently, fighting him is an honour and Hijikata isn't giving this diva the attention he believes he deserves.
Hijikata needs to stop calling me Kid X_X
"Sleazebag" = accurate.
Ooh, Sanan is paying me a late night visit! How risqué!
Of course I want to learn more about the water of life but The Grand High Nonce would apparently disapprove so I guess I'll have to wait until another route to find out :'(
Apparently Kazama's not going to abduct me TODAY. How reassuring.
I relate to Kazama admiring the beauty of the temple but he lost me by being a hypocrite again. Apparently, he doesn't understand how humans can destroy their creations with their wars. KAZAMA IS FIGHTING WITH THE PEOPLE WHO WANTED TO BURN KYOTO AND THEY PARTIALLY SUCCEEDED. Kazama can only destroy things, as far as I can tell.
Now he's ranting about how they lie, deceive and kill. Pot kettle black? "If they want something, they'll steal it." UGH, KAZAMA, YOU HAVE REPEATEDLY TRIED TO STEAL ME YOU HYPOCRITICAL FUCKWIT. HE'S SO FRUSTRATING. SUCH AN INSUFFERABLE COMBINATION OF PRETENTION, HYPOCRISY, CRUELTY, HUBRIS, I could go on XD I should stop... For now...
AAAAAH HE JUST SAID NOT TO TRUST THE SHINSENGUMI BECAUSE THEY KILL THEIR OWN MEN WITHOUT BATTING AN EYELASH. THAT'S WHAT KAZAMA DOES WHEN YOU FIRST MEET HIM! BUT I GUESS IT DOESN'T COUNT TO HIM BECAUSE THE MAN WASN'T PART OF HIS SUPERIOR RACE!
Sen = <3
Chapter 4 (This is where I went to sleep)
I feel like we could have got away with killing the guy who was SENTENCED TO DEATH if fricking Sanan hadn't shown up and revealed his alive-ness!
Aw, Itou is concerned about my arm!
Aaaaand he's ruined it by being a cunt XD "Would you like to know?" "Yes." "I won't tell you." X_X
Heisuke, Saito... HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME... WHEN I NEEDED TO... POSSES YOU... I HATED YOU; I LOVED YOU TOO... BAD DREAMS IN THE NIGHT.... *Continues singing Wuthering Heights and dances around the room dramatically*
"And then they were gone" :'(
Tbf, I'd be pretty mad if my comrades had been doing such dangerous, fucked up experiments behind my back.
"I am more concerned about the soldiers being left behind." - lies!
Wait, Sanan knew Itou "really well"?! Their only interaction until now was Itou being a mega-douche to him. I have so many questions!
Aw, Sanan trusts that our friendlings will return <3
Ooh! Going on a manju adventure with YAM!
Kazama strolling down the street and everybody being pushed out of the way by the douchebag waves rolling off of him.
Okay, so Kazama has come here alone to get pissed amongst humans?! That seems implausible...
"I might even allow you to pour me a drink." BLEUGH BLETCH BLUUURGH.
I CANNOT WITH THIS THOT AND HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT. HOW DARE HE BRAG ABOUT HOW COOL AND DOWN WITH THE KIDS HE IS TO BE DRINKING WITH HUMANS AND THEN SLAG ME OFF FOR ASSOCIATING WITH HUMANS?!
If I'm supposedly so curious about the demon lifestyle, can I PLEASE just run away with Sen? :'(
WHY IS NOBODY ASKING WHAT I WANT?!? X_X I WANT TO GO WITH THE COOL DEMON LADIES!!!
"Yukimura. What do you have to say about this?" FINALLY!!! THANK YOU, KONDOU!
I really want to go but the game won't let me XD
Souji is correct. I clearly have rocks for brains XD
"Gosh" Appropriate reaction.
AAAAAAAAND MY BELOVED SHINSENGUMI IS IMMEDIATELY ENDANGERED BY MY POOR DECISIONS.
Ooh! Physical contact with Kazama! Sure, he's violently grabbing me but this thirsty bitch will take what she can get XD
Harada has the best put downs :') "Barging in here to get yourself a wife! You think you'd get the point by now after all these rejections..."
"You fools have no idea of her worth." BITCH I AM A well, not human but SENTIENT BEING! THEY TREAT ME WITH MORE RESPECT THAN YOU EVER DID YOU MASSIVE CREEP. I AM MORE THAN JUST A WOMB, YOU HO!!!
"She is most valuable when used by a fitting partner." THA FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!???! NOPENOPENOPE. A FITTING PARTNER WOULD NOT "USE" ME, BITCH.
"HA! So you decide to take her against her will just because you're too scared of the rejection you'll get from flat-out asking her out, huh?" YES HARADA!!! YOU CALL OUT THIS FUCKING NONCE!!! ALL RAPISTS ARE COWARDS!!! "You're so lame and creepy." WHERE IS THE LIE?!??
Meanwhile, Hijikata just makes it clear that he'd happily slice through me. Good to know.
I shall WIGGLE my way out of this situation! What do you mean it didn't work?!
YAAAS KONDOU! YOU FIGHT THAT BITCH!!!
OMG I JUST FELL ON TOP OF OKITA AND NOW HE'S SLUT SHAMING ME! XD
"Tell me... How is it? On top of me. Does it feel good?" O_O O_O O_O This game just got a lot more spicy!
Just fuck already! If only to piss off Kazama X_X
Aw, poor sick Okita <3
How dare they mention that the new HQ has a huge bath for warriors to bathe together and not have another thirst scene :P
Now Harada and Nagakura are slut shaming each other for having their tiddies out in Winter :')
Does this count as sexposition? Politics + tiddies?
"Itou dies." This is what happens when you base a game around true events! Problems aren't solved with the power of love and friendship! X_X
YES SAITO, PLEASE PROTECT ME FROM THIS MURDEROUS NONCE!
Chapter 5
At least in the normal route where nobody loves me, I don't get shot at by cannons O_O
There are a lot of typos in this chapter already. Perhaps the developers didn't expect anyone to be INSANE enough to romance Kazama.
DON'T TELL THIS RANDOM GUY YOUR PLANS YOU FOOL!!! IF THIS GETS INOUE KILLED, IMMA BE SO MAD!!!
NO INOUE!!! DON'T DRINK THE CRAZY JUICE!!!
NOOOOOO!!!! INOOOUUUUEEEE!!! :'(
Yes Queen, you call out those murdering cowards :'(
FFS I just got hella shot X_X
NO YOU GUYS ARE THE MONSTERS!!!
Apparently, I'm a "Noble Demon specimen" BITCH WHERE?!
"Why was Kazama helping me?" UM, HAVEN'T WE BEEN THROUGH THIS?! BECAUSE HE WANTS TO "USE" YOUR FERTILE WOMB TO BREED A NEW LINE OF DEMON CHILDREN.
"Shoot me? To death?" XD
"Kazama glared coldly at the pile of dismembered corpses on the floor" :') So romantic!
OMG IT'S THE BETTER DRESSED VERSION OF ME!!!
"Actually a man." UM, A CHILD, SEEMINGLY.
The whole creepy demonic family together at last :')
STOP CALLING ME ADORABLE AND LITTLE YOU CREEPY DEMON CHILD.
"What you're doing is disgraceful." YOU TELL HIM KAZAMA.
"Mind if I kill your family, right here and now?" O_O Kazama has zero chill! Thanks for asking, though, I guess. Go for it, Kazama XD
Oh, apparently I'm going to "talk to them" X_X
"Kodo, I could murder you over a thousand times, and it still wouldn't be enough for me." This is the most I've ever liked Kazama.
Doesn't Kazama work directly with Kodo in various routes?
Why can't I vanish like smoke? :'( Where are MY cool demon powers? :'(
"Turns out the only one capable of keeping you safe when you needed them most was me -- not them." HOW DARE YOU!!! INOUE GAVE HIS LIFE PROTECTING ME AND YOU'VE NEVER PUT YOUR OWN PRECIOUS NECK OUT THERE FOR ANYONE IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE YOU POMPOUS ASS!!! YOU'VE NEVER HAD TO WORK FOR ANYTHING IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE, HAVE YOU?! YOU WERE BORN A DEMON PRINCE AND THAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT YOU'RE BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE?!? BECAUSE YOU HAVE POWERS YOU DIDN'T EARN?!
"If your idea of a good time is seeing the rotting corpses of your friends, be my guest..." 8_8 :'( No, they can't all be dead! Surely not! Kazama don't say things like that!
The Yodo are going to betray the Shogunate?!? I must warn them D:
Wow, this just got heavy and real sad.
Wait, did he just admit to meddling in the war?! He is such a hypocrite!!!! Aaaaaaah!!! Somebody call him out on his bs!!!!
SEN AND KIMIGIKU <3 SAVE ME!
Even Shiranui sees that humans have a variety of complex motivations X_X
I AM NOT YOUR FUTURE WIFE!!!!
Do the Shinsengumi just assume that I'm dead?!
Great, now I'm on a road trip with this cunt.
"I've never actually been this close to a man before..." Calm down! That horse is third wheeling so hard right now. And what about that time you fell ON TOP OF Okita?!
Welp, that's it for Kyoto Winds! Onwards to Edo Blossoms! I still don't like Kazama but at least murdering the ever-loving FUCK out of Kodo is a cause that I can believe in. Although, one of the reasons that I hated Kodo in Saito's route was because he was helping the same sex pest I'm now galloping across the country with. Huh.
This is the most that I’ve ever used the word, “nonce” in my entire life and this is only the first game.
#hakuoki#hakuouki#kyoto winds#kazama chikage#watch me lose my marbles#Spoilers#sorry kazama fans#so many words
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Foggy Window - Mind Games: Obsession.
Here’s a little something I wrote inspired by the wonderful game Mind Games: Obsession by Cierra Lawson ( @gatheringstarduststudios).
Foggy Window.
The outdoor light barely allowed you to see his silhouette. Still, you watched him through the foggy glass.
He was standing there for the last minutes. His body unmoving. The cold night wind blew his hair, and you saw his head tilted up, staring up at the moon.
You lifted your hand and traced his face features. It didn’t take you much to remember how his warm skin felt under your fingertips. Your finger touched the ghost of his forehead and caressed his face down with feather light touch, you made sure to bop the tip of his nose with a low giggle and stopped on his deliciously kissable lips.
You heard a low sigh and came out of your reveries in time to see him run his fingers over his long hair.
Your hand longed the feeling of his strands around your fingers. The smell of his hair near your nose when he whispered something in your ear. How it tickled your skin, leaving gooseflesh on its wake. The way you mourned the loss of his warm presence by your side.
You closed your eyes and let your mind wander. You were taken to the first day you met outside your work and how much of a flirty he was.
You remembered how breathless you were when your eyes first met his. Your skin reacted by instinct, and every part of your body wanted to be touched by his. His voice like silk, wrapping you around his words.
You remembered precisely how much his laughter scared you, but not in a bad way… at that moment, you knew you were in trouble because that man stirred something deep inside of you. Something you weren’t ready to acknowledge, let alone feel. Something you wanted, missed, craved even.
His head snapped up again, and you remembered the full moon approached.
There were things he hadn’t told you, you knew that. Things that hurt him deeply. His body, his mind, and his soul.
You whished, and oh how much you wished, you could take his pain away. Kiss him until there was nothing else but you two.
It didn’t matter what he was. All that mattered was who he was.
He was the one and only. The only man in this whole world that made you feel good. Good? That doesn’t reach close to right. He made you feel wanted, cherished, comfortable in your skin. Complete.
With him by your side, you could take the world. Battles could come, and they would sooner than later, but you were prepared because he was there with you, for you. Just like you were there for him.
And you pitied those who dared to make light of him. Not because of what he could do to them, but because they didn’t understand they would never be near the man he was.
He wasn’t the mindless beast some whispered, nor the broken man they thought. He was the balance of both.
He was fierce and strong. He was a force to be reckoned with. He could end a man just by staring him down, or he could simply look at you. His eyes were open and clear when he looked at you.
With just a glance, you understood how much you meant to him. He wanted you, desired you, trusted you with all his being. He would always be naked in front of you. There weren’t layers, there weren’t lies.
It was true there were unspoken things, but you learned long ago that patience is a virtue. You don’t rush things. Things happen when they have to. You trusted him as much as he trusted you.
He would never hurt you.
You knew that because of the way he spoke to you, touched you… kissed you.
Your eyes fell to the window again. You wanted to call out for him. To show him that you were there for him. Through thick and thin. The world could burn, and it wouldn’t matter if he was by your side because you sure wouldn’t leave his… for as long as he would have you.
For as long as he would have you…
You wanted to stand up and open that door, run into his arms, and get lost in his embrace. Yell to the winds how much he meant to you. Scream at the moon and flip it a finger.
You wanted everyone, every little creature and thing to know that you loved him.
You LOVED him!
You would do anything for him!
Fuck the moon, fuck the supernatural, fuck that monster chasing you.
You loved him with everything you had, everything you were, and you were going to fight for that love. You were going to kill that fucker because you couldn’t die.
You couldn’t die before you told him how much you loved him.
You had never told him because you were scared. Afraid to jinx what you two had. What if the thing that hurt him so deeply made him flee from you if he knew it?
Tears stream down your face with the thought of losing him.
In the blink of your eyes, you stood from that couch. Your steps firm on the floor, pushing you forward. Away from those thoughts and into the arms of your love.
Your heart beat fast, almost too quickly. The tears never stopped their way down your face. Your body begged you to close the space between you.
Your shaky hand reached the doorknob. The cold wind slapped your face, and the snow started pilling on your hair and shoulders.
He turned to you, and your eyes met. For a moment too long, none of you moved. A shadow darkened his eyes, and in a split second, he avoided your face. When his gaze fell on you again, your body closed the distance.
Your arms held him close. One of his hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you close. The other cradled your head on the crook of his neck.
His smell was too much. It overwhelmed your senses, and you couldn’t think straight. It was only you and him. Nothing else.
When he tangled his fingers in your hair and tilted your hair back, you didn’t struggle. His lips planted light kisses on your face. Dried the tears that stubbornly refused to stop until his mouth found yours, and you got lost in his taste.
There was so much you wanted to say, so much you want to pour into that kiss. You wanted him to know, no, you needed him to know you loved him.
Begrudgingly your lips parted from his, but he wasn’t going to let you slip away from him; you weren’t going anywhere that wasn’t near him, so he rested his forehead on yours and stared deep down into your eyes… into your soul.
“I love you.” – You whispered on his lips and prayed that he had listened.
His eyes were wide. For a moment, you thought he was shocked, maybe even surprised, but then you understood that it was nothing but relief.
With your insecurities burned away, you heard yourself repeating those words while your fingers dove into his hair, bringing him in for another kiss.
His mouth devoured you. His lips claimed you.
The kiss was suddenly greedy, needy. Everything.
Your name was spoken softly over and over. His confession came in the form of whispered I love you’s, and his shaky breath warmed your face. Your bodies so close one could say you were one.
And into the night you kissed, only pausing to catch your breaths and look into each other’s eyes.
You didn’t care about the snow gathering around you, or the freezing wind biting your skin. You only cared that he was there with you. In your arms.
Of course, you couldn’t stop yourself from chanting the same words over and over. And once you two paused for a second, you caught your lips saying…
“I love you with everything I am, and I sure hope you know that, Blake.”
His answer came in the form of the biggest smile you had ever seen in your life. You made sure to commit every little detail of it to memory before your lips met his again.
Thank you for reading!
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