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aqueeracademic · 6 months

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wish that you were here

I’ve tried to leave it all behind me, but I woke up and there they were beside me. And I don’t believe it, but I guess it’s true: some feelings, they can travel, too. There it is again, sitting on my chest, makes it hard to catch my breath. I scramble for the light to change.

Ed remembers waking up in the middle of the night and rolling over just to come face to face with those godforsaken cake toppers. Sometimes, he would reach out to them, push them closer together or grab one and throw it across the cabin. Ed remembers thinking that if he sailed far enough, fast enough, he would eventually outrun it. The weight in his chest that had been resting there like an Incubus ever since the day he sat on that dock. But the sensation seemed to follow him as the seagulls did. He remembers gasping for air until he was forced out of bed by his own bile.

You’re always on my mind.

Stede remembers everything. He remembers the tickle of Ed’s hair on his arm. He remembers the sensation of Ed’s hand on his face, the sound of Ed’s voice and the slight lilt in it when he would get frustrated. Stede dreams of these things relentlessly.

You’re always on my mind.

Ed remembers pushing Lucius overboard. He dreams about his father. He remembers wishing he had the strength to put Izzy in the ground but forgoing it because it almost felt better to watch him suffer. Ed remembers wishing that making one man he loved hurt would fill the place in him that made him want the other one to hurt, too. It didn’t.

I never minded being on my own. Then something broke in me, and I wanted to go home to be where you are. But even closer to you, you seem so very far. And now I’m reaching out with every note I sing, and I hope it gets to you on some Pacific wind; wraps itself around you, and whispers in your ear, tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here.

Stede remembers the days back home, with Mary and the children. He remembers wandering around empty halls, walking empty streets, and not really caring that there was no one around. Even if there were, would they be able to make him feel the way Ed did? He doubted it. And then he realized, of course, that he loved Ed, and you know this story. But did you know that Stede paddled in that rowboat for what felt like forever, only for Ed to keep getting farther away? Did you know that, like a mermaid or a siren, he sent his song across the sea? That he shoved his ardor into glass bottles and littered the ocean with them, hoping they would eventually reside in the hands of the other? I miss you, they read. I need you here.

And if I stay, I don’t know. There’ll be so much that I’ll have to let go. You’re disappearing all the time. But I still see you in the light; for you, the shadows fight. And it’s beautiful but there’s that tug inside, I must stop time traveling. You’re always on my mind.

Ed remembers that, after flicking the cake topper overboard, he felt his lungs swell as if it was a voodoo doll and he was drowning, too. He remembers wandering around the ship in the dead of night, causing the deck boards to creak over a quivering crew as he wandered to the edge and stared over into the black water, thinking, but never acting. Sometimes, in the corner of his eye, when the light was right and his hair was in his face, he thought that Stede might have been standing right beside him. He never was. It was the third trip to the edge that forced the man’s name out of his vernacular. This is who I am, he thought. I can never be anything else.

You’re always on my mind. You’re always on my mind.

Stede played host at Spanish Jackie’s for some time. Everytime he turned around at the sound of the door, his heart leapt into his throat as he thought… maybe. Maybe it would be Ed walking in. It never was. He saw him everywhere, though. His name, the fake one, often left the lips of people on the street. His face was plastered on every wall. Stede took it as a sign that he was close, that he would triumph and find Ed. Not Blackbeard. Ed.

Ed remembers realizing that shooting Izzy was the final breach of his humanity. Izzy, who stood by him no matter what, who loved him even if neither of them spoke of it. And then Izzy did speak of it, and that was the breaking point. To love and to be loved is to be abandoned. That was the threat Izzy was making. And he wasn’t ready to be alone, no matter how much he swore that being alone was safety and sanctuary. It took only a day for the crew to kill him. Longer than he thought it would. And thank God they did. Lord knows Edward didn’t have the balls to do it himself. And in that final breath, before the cannonball came down, he whispered the name of the man he had forsaken and laughed. He wondered if Stede could hear him.

We all need something watching over us.

Stede remembers waking up in the middle of the night, on the floor in Spanish Jackie’s in tears, just for there to be someone there, rubbing his back, only half awake. He remembers thinking often about Lucius, smiling when remembering the support he provided. Stede thought of Ed, who he swore was looking for him, too. Imagine his surprise when he realized that Ed was no longer among the living.

Be it the falcons, the clouds or the cross.

Ed remembers the Gravy Basket. He wasn’t sure how long that lifetime was, and it wasn’t clear to him for several weeks after leaving. It could have been years for all he knew. It wasn’t. And thank God it wasn’t. He felt his hand close around something. Maybe it was the rope at his waist.

And then the sea swept in and left us all speechless.

Stede remembers being fairly certain he had never begged before in his life. Not seriously, anyway. Not in any way that implied complete hopelessness; the tragedy of Achilles and Patroclus, God and the angel Lucifer, Romeo and Juliet. But he begged over Ed’s body. He pleaded with every divine entity he could come up with in his mind, with the water on the floor, with Ed’s hands, his chest, his face. His feet were soaked through, his cheeks ached with the pain of sorrow. His heart pounded so hard he was sure it would stop. He wouldn’t have been saddened if it did.

Speechless.

Ed remembers the mermaid. He remembers the old tales of the sirens that he never believed, the ones claiming that a siren’s song could get you to jump into the freezing sea without a second thought and swim until you found it. Ed remembers the mermaid that had Stede’s face. The mermaid that he reached for, that he tried to press his lips against. He had wrestled with the rope until it came undone and vanished into the darkness of the water, and yet his hand still felt clasped around something familiar.

I never minded being on my own. Then something broke in me, and I wanted to go home to be where you are.

Stede remembers what it felt like to see Ed’s fingers move, what it felt like to take hold of him once more and swear to Heaven above and Hell below that he would never, ever let go. When Stede was a child, he enjoyed his solitude; the fear of abuse and shame was always just a footbridge across from friendship. But Stede was not a child anymore, and he never wanted to feel that ache of aloneness ever again. Stede remembers that Ed woke him the day they met with a hand on his. And now, with his hand upon Ed’s, he waits for him to come back to him. To be with him. To wake and allow him to come home.

But even closer to you, you seem so very far.

Ed remembers that when his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he realized was that his hand was gripping Stede’s. He hadn’t even realized he was reaching for him until he already had hold of him.

And now I’m reaching out with every note I sing, and I hope it gets to you on some Pacific wind; wraps itself around you, and whispers in your ear, tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here.

Stede remembers seeing Ed’s eyes as they opened. He also remembers the pain in his face as Ed sat up too quickly, slamming the hard bone of his skull into Stede’s cheekbone. Stede, of course, knew the second Ed woke up he was going to lose him all over again. The crew had killed him once, and they would do it again. He didn’t know if it was more painful to lose the man to death or to lose him and know he was out there somewhere, waiting for him. Stede remembers deciding that Ed had to go, before even deciding to ask the crew what they wanted.

Wish that you were here.

Ed remembers realizing that the Stede cradling his face in pain was no longer a mermaid. Just a man. The man who he held to blame for every second of his life leading to that exact moment. He didn’t know if it was fair. He had blamed his father, his captain, Izzy… and now Stede. Ed remembers the pain in his body, the bruises he could feel creeping up and down his skin, the black residue of the cannonball imprinted in his flesh somewhere he could not see. Ed focused his eyes on Stede, and his first, and only, order of business was a newfound determination to get away from him. To leave the ship and, if he was lucky, never lay eyes upon him again. The sensation in his chest, the Incubus, was still there, which meant only one thing to him: he was right. This pain was not the result of love. This pain was who he was.

Wish that you were here.

Stede remembers the feeling of the couch beneath them as he was closer to Ed than he had been in a long time. Ed smelled the same, and something about that was comforting. He could have reached out, ran his fingers through Ed’s hair and made him look at him, but he didn’t. He folded his hands in his lap and waited. Stede remembers bringing Ed back to the ship and the crew descending on him, tying a collar around his neck and stripping him of his leather. Stede remembers thinking that, maybe, without the leather, Ed could be close to him again, any remnant of Blackbeard firmly forgotten.

Wish that you were here.

Ed remembers the moonlight. The wire from which a fish was hung was digging into his fingers but Stede was in front of him, flushed and glowing in the pale light, rambling about curses and priests. The ship was quiet. Ed remembers the breeze, the smell of salt on skin, the jingle of the bell around his neck. His heart was beating in his stomach as he said it. You wear fine things well. He had replayed those words in his head for weeks, in the before and after of Stede, wondering if it meant what he’d hoped it did. Ed remembers kissing him, the way he should have done the first time.

Wish that you were…

Stede remembers the moonlight. The pang of losing such a gorgeous piece of clothing still hung in his mouth, but Ed was in front of him, small and desperate in the pale light, telling him about fishing and silence. The ship was quiet. Stede remembers the rustle of the sails, the curl of the hair at Ed’s temple, the sound of the bell as he got closer. His heart pounded in his throat as he heard his own words thrown back at him, not with malice, but with care and questioning. You wear fine things well. He had chewed on those words for weeks after speaking them aloud, wondering if he had said the wrong thing, if it meant anything at all that he had gotten them out. Stede remembers the closeness of Ed as he finally pressed his lips against him. A chaste kiss that Stede refused to let go of, instead burying his hand in that hair, wrapping an arm around that waist. He had been searching for Ed for so long, he hadn’t even realized he’d caught him, but he had. Or rather, like a fish, Ed had caught him.

#is this even good writing #no one answer #i will be doing this with some #other characters #such as #izzy hands #or perhaps #ed teach #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #stede x blackbeard #ofmd #our flag means death #Spotify

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theblogofdavyjones · 11 months

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Fix you

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader

Warnings: None

Request for: @mxmxnt0m0ri

Request:

Hi again! I also thought another idea for Davy Jones (I don’t really see much people posting about him), how about 42 and 22 from your prompts list? In which Davy have feelings for reader and wants her to stay with him, so he makes her go into missions (like searching or looking for his heart or anything) and when she finishes, he doesn’t have anything to request so he gets kind of desperate bc thinks that she’s gonna go away? But reader actually has fallen for him too and is not really planning on leaving him?

***

If you wanted to know the truth, the truth was you were unaware of Davy Jones having feelings for you and that you were unaware of the fact that you were the only crew mate he deeply cared about above all.

In the beginning, Davy didn’t know how to react to these feelings or how to really accept them for that matter. He hasn’t felt this way for anyone since the disaster made with Calypso when she crushed him. A lot of the time, Davy kept his eyes on you while having to deal with the difficult task of accepting these feelings. Davy was on edge of the fact of not knowing at all how you felt about him, in any way in the making.

Quite a number of times did Davy Jones caught himself wondering how he could get you close to him and that’s when he started taking you on missions with him in search of his heart, getting there to it before anyone else can get there hands on it. During that time, you had discovered your own feelings for Davy, but you kept silent for the same reasons. How you ended up on the Dutchman was an answer anyone could guess, but if they really did want to know, it starts as having you used to be on Jack Sparrow’s crew while living on the Black Pearl.

You weren’t dead, you were still human and that’s what confused the crew. As said before, you used to be a part of Jack’s crew before Jack Sparrow sent you off and sold you out as a trade for a debt free life through Davy Jones. The trade has hurt you lot, thinking that Jack Sparrow was your friend and you could trust him, going through all of that just to prove where you are wrong. Surprisingly, you didn’t have to endure the inhuman punishments Davy settled on his crew who clearly don’t deserve any of that. No one does for that matter, but Davy Jones wouldn’t give it a second thought to be more fair in using a different method than anything like you’ve seen happen every day on that ship. While not having to endure any of the same sufferings, you were fine with that. However, you felt guilty to be the only one spared from that pain. The best way to describe the way you were feeling was it being almost like survivors guilt. Others haven’t just been as lucky as you.

On the Dutchman, date was kinder to you much to your surprise. When you started going on missions with Davy, it was around three years now since your trade. As you rise out of the salty waters the island in sight, you caught onto the sight of two men witnessing as they scurry off with the chest. With Davy still unable to step on land, he sent you off with the rest of them as he stood behind with Maccus, waiting until you had returned. Which you do return with the chest under your arm while climbing back onboard the Dutchman, and Maccus was the one who pointed you out since Davy had his back turn towards you. The second Davy sees what you have, you hand it over to him as he approaches you. Davy Jones doesn’t say anything while taking it, you watch as he sets it down before going to wake the kraken shortly after sailing past the Black Pearl.

Davy was still thirsty for a war, a war he very much wanted to win. After everything had gone down, Davy demands for the chest to be opened. They open the chest, only to find it empty with nothing inside, Davy’s heard was in the hands of someone else. To see that it was no longer there, Davy was eager now to find out what happened and who took it, it couldn’t be Jack Sparrow. It couldn’t be Will Turner. Ever since discovering the heart was missing, Davy had not been doing so well the next few days and you hated seeing him like this. So you go and try to find him, even know trying to talk through it could lead into a not so friendly conversation. Of course, he tries to deny you entry, to shoo you away and shut you out, but you were being stubborn and won this round. Davy lets you in and you both talk about it, trying to get useful ideas that could really help to solve this case.

“We’ll find it again,” you say trying to encourage him not to give up.

Though this didn’t seem to help at all, Davy couldn’t understand you at times and this was one of those times.

“How can you be so uplifting?” Davy growls, causing you to nearly laugh a little.

“We need to stay positive about the situation, I’ll help you through this, you’re not alone I can promise you that. Staying positive is the only way we’re going to get through this.”

Davy Jones wasn’t going to try and push you away this time, instead, he kept you close to his side. Being as close to Davy as you are now only made your feelings for him stronger.

Being this close to him made you feel safe and secure, and you haven’t been so sure about anyone else in your life. It was easy to tell Davy Jones has yet to fully warm up to you. He has been warming up little by little, but not yet completely. The following days, you couldn’t stand seeing Davy this way, with you wanting to help locate his heart, you went back to where the chest still sits, making sure Davy wasn’t in sight. Thinking you’re home free, you go ahead and open it while hoping you could find a clue or two of some kind. However, when you open it, you don’t only see that it was empty, but it contained letters you had missed seeing the first opening. While you still believed Davy wasn’t around, that’s where you’re wrong, he just remained silent while think he was going to lose you to those old letters. Davy feared that if you read those letters, you were going to walk away from him and give him another heartbreak. Just after opening the first letter, you immediately see that this letter was for Calypso from Davy. It was a letter that was meant to be sent but never had been after these years.

As he continued to fear of you leaving, he doesn’t understand that all it would take for you to walk away from him was if he didn’t have anything to request. One way or the other, you really never planned on leaving him or the crew. It was the only life you known now, and you didn’t want to start fresh all over again. You weren’t going anywhere, he wasn’t going to lose you over an old letter that had never been sent.

When Davy Jones realizes this, he really couldn’t be happier. Thoughts scrambled all over in mind, but there was one thought that was nagging him, and that thought was he shouldn’t even have because to you, that’s not what Davy is.

“Maybe for once, I’m not the bad guy here.”

Davy Jones may be cruel now, but you helped yourself into believing he wasn’t always like this, that he was once human as well. Because of this, there is still a good chance that he could change at will.

In the end, you had got the missing heart and in that point in time, Davy Jones gives you his heart, no longer did it belong to Calypso. Calypso, the woman who crushed him and betrayed him without a care in the world it seemed so. Now that things between you both were finally starting to come together, you both had each other.

What more could you ask for?

***

@theblogofdavyjones

Requests: open

Tags: @royisrandom @always-on-hiatus @marsswann @personlovinganime @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence @mypookiebeardavyjones @imalittleoutthere

#davy jones #davy jones fanfic #davy jones headcanons #davy jones reblogs #davy jones imagine #davy jones x reader #request #reblogger #reblogging #reblogs

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drustvar · 1 year

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Ch. 6: Fracture

Broken things come to pass at the docks.

WC: 3,497 A/N: A lot of how Rosie acts in this chapter was inspired by 'Pearl', and tbh I kind of wish I had pushed that a little further but oh well. She'll get more unhinged as the story progresses, don't worry :) Ao3 Link in reblog|| Full text available under read more.

Julian walked a few steps ahead of Rosie, a tall, black silhouette against the pale sand. Rosie watched him, the tension in his shoulders had been building all day, and seemed ready to crash over both of them. He stopped at the rotting wood of the pier, hands in his pockets as the moon reflected brightly off his boots. The only thing that broke the silence was the constant sound of waves crashing against the shore. He stared out at the sea for a while, and she followed his gaze. The water was as black as the sky above, infinite and unknowable. Julian took a deep breath before he finally spoke.

“Feel that breeze. A nice night for sailing, don’t you think?”

“Never sailed before.”

He shook his head and his gaze dropped, staring down the end of the dock. “Rosie, listen…we, uh. We really need to talk.” “You’ve been saying that all day,” she shifted the bag on her shoulder. Even though it was mostly empty, it felt like a prisoner’s weight.

“Ah, I have, haven’t I? I suppose I was enjoying myself too much to take the plunge.”

“What’s wrong? Please, just tell me.”

“Oh, lots of things,” he grimaced. “Too many to count. Give me a number, and I’ll tell you it’s too low.”

She crossed her arms. “Julian.”

He sighed and looked away. “I’ve done the calculations. Thought of every possibility. Run through the scenario over and over in my head…Rosie,” he reached for her hand, but couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. “There’s only one way I can see this whole thing playing out. And it’s not a happy ending, trust me.”

“I dunnae understand what you mean,” she said. She did understand, but she didn’t want to.

“Isn’t it better to cut things off at the pass? To spare you the trouble of a tragic ending?” He still wouldn’t look at her, just stared out at the sea, as if debating on jumping in and sinking.

Rosie thought back to that morning, how waking up without Julian beside her had filled her chest with an empty ache, how worried she’d been about him. How she had felt so sure that the very worst had happened to him, and that she hadn't been there to prevent it. “When you left this morning, you weren’t going to come back, were you?” She spoke quietly; as if not asking could stop it from being true. “I, ah, no… Well, I wasn’t thinking clearly," his words were clumsy and rushed. "But I would never, I could never have just left you. Even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Want to leave, that is.” He finally met her eyes. She’d never seen someone look more sorry. “But, I just don’t see how else this can go.” He dropped down to sit on the edge of the pier, his long legs dangling over the water. His boots skimmed the surface, sending tiny ripples through the dark. “What do you mean by that?” She sank down next to him. Their shoulders brushed, and her heart ached at how eagerly he leaned against her. He just shook his head before he pointed to an island in the distance, a small shadow on the horizon. “See that island? It’s called the Lazaret. It’s where the city sent their infected, during the height of the plague. A perfect monument to my failures. Always visible from the shore, always reminding the city of how much it suffered.”

She had heard stories of the Lazaret. How when the city had run out of space to quarantine the sick, the doctors were ordered to send them to the island’s crematoriums. The sick and the dying disposed of by their city like trash. “Every death, every body burnt in those pits is another mark against me. More than I could ever count…” he trailed off, his eyes never leaving the island. “I don’t want to drag this out, Rosie. This, whatever it was. Whatever it could have been. It has to end.” “But I don’t understand. I thought you liked me.” The lump in her throat made her voice come out harsher than she'd meant. “I do like you. That’s why it has to be this way. That’s why this has to end now before it's too late and I wind up hurting you.” “That’s stupid. You aren’t like that, you wouldn’t hurt me-” He laughed, sharp and pained. “Oh, Rosie. Dear Rosie, you’re too kind. I will absolutely hurt you. It’s only a matter of time. It’s what I do, you know. It’s what I’ve always done. I’ll be the first to admit my faults, and of that there are many. I end up losing myself,” he sighed again, trying to maintain some form of composure. “Or maybe this is the real me. Someone who hurts. A failure. I don’t know if I killed the Count, but I know I could have. I know I have that kind of darkness inside me. Even if you say that it would have done the world a favor, it was still a life. Someone must have loved him, it must have destroyed somebody. And isn’t that enough to damn me?” “No.” She wanted to scream, he was talking too fast for her to keep up. ‘I don’t care what you’ve done!’ She thought. ‘All I care about is us. What makes him think he’ll hurt me? If all of this is connected to his past, then where do I come in? All I want…all I need is to know is how he feels about me.’ She leaned back and sighed heavily. “So that’s it? We just go our separate ways? You don’t want me enough to try to keep from self-destructing?” “Dear, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” his voice was much quieter. “I’m breaking us up. Plain and simple.” “Breaking up?” Rosie laughed sharply, trying to sound unbothered. “Since when were we together?” ‘Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it’s me who hurts you,’ she thought as she tried to ignore the faint stinging at the corner of her eyes. ‘I could say that you’re nothing to me, even if that would be the biggest lie I’d ever told.’ “Ah, yes you have a point. Not really a breakup, is it? We never—we never really had anything to start with. Just a night or two stolen from time.” He swallowed hard, visibly tense. “But, do I want you…do I want you? God, that’s a hard question to answer. I want you to be safe. I want you to stay out of this whole mess, I want…” he shook his head and stared down at the water below them. “ Well, it doesn’t matter what I want.” “That isn’t an answer,” she said as her nails dug into her palms.

“Tenacious, aren’t you? It’s one of the things I like about you. No matter what happens, you keep forging on. You’re like this great, bright light, drawing me towards you. I just can’t help myself. If I was a stronger man…if I wasn’t so weak. But I just can’t stay away from you.” ‘Then let me be strong for you. I can be strong for both of us ,’ she thought.

Julian bit his bottom lip, looking defeated. He barely looked at her as he spoke again. “ I'm torn in two between what I wish could be and what I know will be; of course I want you. I know it’s only been a short time, but I feel like I’ve known you for years. Is it because you put me at ease? That’s hard to do, you know. I want to be around you. I-I can’t stop thinking about you, even when you’re right beside me. That’s the problem.” He slowly met her eyes as she put a hand over his. “I wish I was strong enough to break the cycle, like you said...but I'm just not. It doesn't matter what my heart wants, I've learned that by now.” He tried to give her a smile before he craned his neck to stare up at the moon. “If I think about it, I can see the path our story would take. So why,” he slumped over, trying to hide himself in the hunch of his shoulders. “If I walk away from you now, will I stay away? If I drop my guard, will I find myself walking right back to you? That’s what makes me selfish. Because whatever we could have, whatever possibilities…They’ll only lead to ruin. That’s the kind of man I am.” “We have but one life,” she said. “Why not be a little selfish?” “I can’t,” he shook his head. “There’s just no future for us that doesn’t end in pain for you.” “How can you be so sure? What future do you want, then?” She wished she had told him how much she hated riddles. “I’ve told you. It doesn’t matter what I want.” “Have you given thought to what I might want?” She hissed. “Can’t you see anything else? Can’t you think of anything else? Is everything a miserable tragedy to you?”

“Tragedy’s what I’m best at, Rosie. I’m the star of my own one-man play.” She wanted to slap him. “It’s what will happen. In this world, we don’t get what we want. Why waste time imagining something you can’t ever have? I don’t dare hope. It just makes it hurt more when you don’t get it.”

“Couldn’t you try? For me?” Julian laughed, but there was no mirth to it. He just stared at the dark horizon. “What do you want to hear from me, Rosie? That I want a future? That I—that I want to live? That I want something with you?” “It sounds nice, doesn’t it?” He got to his feet and started to pace, the old pier creaking underneath his boots. She brushed her thumb over the face of her amulet as she watched him. “Oh, I can see it when I close my eyes,” he said. “Warm laughter, light hearts. Never a dull night. Days spent with friends. Pasha never having a reason to cry again…Things we’ll never have. So it goes.” He stared out at the sea, his back to her. “But you’ll survive, Rosie. You were fine before I got here. You’ll be fine after I’ve left. You’re strong like that. Stronger than I am, that’s for sure.” Rosie sighed, feeling as though she had swallowed gravel as she got to her feet. “Right. Well, I can see you’ve made your decision.” She brushed her skirt off, and tried to avoid looking at him. “Be a gentleman and walk me home.” ||

Everything was dark and quiet when they stopped on the porch. The quiet rustling of the garden in the night breeze was the only thing breaking up the awkward, tense silence between them. “Well, here we are,” Julian said, a note of finality in his voice. “At your shop. Uh, end of the line.” Rosie just stared at him. She didn’t want to speak, she knew if she did her voice would break after the first word. “When I came to Vesuvia, I was seeking answers. Finding you, that was a rare treat,” he reached out, his hand hovered over her shoulder, as if he was unsure if he was still allowed to touch her. She grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying to commit the feeling of his grip to memory.

“Regardless of what we are to each other, regardless of…whatever this was,” she said. “I’ve still got your back. If you need something, anything , find me.”

He leaned forward to press a kiss on each side of her face, lips lingering just a second longer against her skin.

“Thank you, my dear. The time we spent together, however brief, mattered to me. I won’t forget it.”

“Stay safe. If not for me, for Pasha.” She turned away, pressing her hand to the door. “As you wish,” he murmured. With a whirl of his cape he was gone, footsteps fading away into a faint echo. Rosie slammed her fist into the door. The tears that had remained hidden started to roll down her cheeks as she stomped inside, the door slamming shut behind her. She swore as she threw her bag onto the counter. It was then that she noticed the shop smelled of cinnamon, and all the lanterns were lit, giving off a warm glow. She wiped hurriedly at her eyes as soft footsteps approached.

“Rosie?” Asra smiled warmly as he slid over the railing of the stairs. “When did you get home?” She tried to steady her breathing, and hoped that her mascara hadn’t run too much. “This morning. I was going to go up to the Palace to check on you, but Faust said you weren’t there.” “Oh she did, did she?” Rosie tried to smile, but her grin more closely resembled a snarl. Faust ducked back under the folds of her master’s sash.

“What’s wrong?” She winced. Of course Asra immediately knew. But she had never been a subtle person.

“It’s nothing. Everything’s fine,” picked up her bag and hung it up, trying to avoid his eyes. “Did you have fun on your little trip? Doing whatever it is you do?” She hadn’t meant for the last of her words to sound so bitter.

“Rosie?” Asra rested his hand over hers. She finally met his eyes. The color purple had never felt so comforting.

“It’s nothing, really. Oh, where would I even begin?” She started straightening the disturbed items on the counter, desperate to keep her hands busy. “It’s nothing. I find a river full of poison, I fall in the canal, and Julian breaks up with me. Which is silly, foolish even, to think we had somethin’ goin’-”

“Woah, slow down!” Asra grabbed her arm. His hand on her arm was warm, and she found she could breathe again. “What…what was that last part?”

“Which ‘last’ part?” She laughed. “The part where I’m a fool of a woman or the part where Julian left me?”

“I…he did? You two were…?”

“Yes, no, oh…I dunnae even know.” She shook her head as Asra offered her his mug of tea. “I mean, we slept together -oh!” Asra had started to choke on his drink. “I didn’t mean like that! I meant how you and I share a bed, that’s all!”

Asra coughed and wiped his mouth. “Let’s go upstairs and talk. I made that tea you like, you look like you could use it.” He took her hand and led the way, thumb brushing absentmindedly over her knuckles. Rosie leaned against him, grateful for his support. “I dunnae know what’s going on with him,” she murmured against his shoulder. “I dunnae want him to face this mess alone.” She sighed and flopped down on the oversized floor cushions. Faust curled around the hot mug Asra set down in front of her, the snake’s tongue flicking out curiously.

“No, I’m not mad at you, little lady.” Rosie said as she patted the snake’s coils. “Even if you did snitch on me.”

“So, what happened? From the beginning.” Asra settled next to her, putting his arm around her as she leaned against him again. She hadn’t expected the story to spill out as easily as it did. Granted there were moments she omitted, but Asra had no reason to know about those. He sighed quietly after she had finished, his thumb running absentmindedly over the rim of his mug.

“That sure sounds like Ilya. And he took all day to end it? And you say you don’t even know if you were really together?”

She shrugged, twisting the hem of her skirt. “It’s all foolishness, I suppose. Just a stupid little fling I got too into.” “Ilya,” Asra’s tone was one she’d seldom heard before. “The only thing he loves more than drama is his own suffering, and he’s determined to chase both.”

“What am I to do?”

He squeezed her hand gently. “What do you want to do?"

“I want to protect him,” she said quietly. “I want to show him that he’s not as terrible as he thinks.” “I can’t stop you,” he said as he scooped up their empty mugs. “I just want you to be careful. Who knows, maybe you can shake him from his ouroboros of self flagellation.” Rosie said nothing, just listened to the sound of water and ceramic clinking as Asra washed up. “Who knows? Stranger things have happened. Just please, don’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Again she said nothing, just slowly pulled a folded piece of cloth out of her pocket. She opened it and stared down at its contents: a small lock of auburn hair, cut when Julian had slept. “Have you eaten? I’ll make dinner,” Asra fell silent as he saw what she held in her hands. “You’re not planning on cursing him, are you? Remember the last one…”

She laughed and shook her head. ‘ You already took care of that, didn’t you ?’ She thought, remembering what Julian had said about the glowing mark on his throat. She wasn’t convinced it was Asra’s handiwork, but she couldn’t help but wonder. “I did not curse the last one,” she said as she started to rummage through a nearby chest. “There’s no magic involved in dumping a bag of termites outside of someone’s house. Can you get me our jar of black salt?”

“Of course. I’ll get candles, too.”

‘ Let’s see, myrrh for protection. Clover for luck, borage for spell power… ’ Rosie ran through a list of reagents as she dug through the chest and cabinets. ‘ Rose quartz for… ’ she shook her head and slammed the box that held the small pink crystals shut. ‘ Citrine for hope. Bloodstone for courage. ’

“So,” Asra sat across from her, the candles lit and the reagents laid out on the coffee table. “What do you have in mind?” “Taglock,” she said as she poured a layer of black salt into a bottle. “If he doesn’t want me around to physically protect him, the least I can do is offer my magic.” “Taglocks are…they can be difficult. They take a lot of energy and a lot of focus. Are you sure?”

She nodded as she added the crushed herbs. He watched her while she worked, never saying a word, though his eyes were full of concern. The soft glow of the candles gave her pale hair an ethereal halo as she sealed the vessel shut with wax. “Here goes,” she murmured as she tightly gripped the bottle. Magic started to crackle over her fingers, and the ring of gold in her eyes started to glow. As worried as he was, Asra couldn’t help but feel proud of how far her magic had come. But his pride turned to horror as glowing, teal colored cracks began to appear in her hands, the spell bottle rattling violently. She wasn’t just extending her energy, she was pouring out all of it. “Rosie?” She didn’t hear him. The glowing cracks in her hands started to widen. “Rosie, stop!” Asra knocked the bottle out of her hands. It smashed on the floor, sending broken glass and smoke everywhere. She stared open mouthed at the smoldering remains, the taglock destroyed.

“I’m sorry, I-” “What the hell, Asra?!” She rounded on him. “I’m sorry! But you were using so much power, you were going to hurt yourself,” he tried to take her hand and show her the still-glowing welts, but she shook him off. She swore and kicked the coffee table out of the way. Asra followed close behind her as she stomped back downstairs. “Rosie,” he said in a quiet voice. She ignored him as she pulled a hefty moonshine jug out of a cabinet and drank deeply. “I really didn’t mean to. I was scared you were going to be hurt.” She glared at him as she took another swig and leaned against the sink.

“We could try again, some other form of protective-” “Wouldn’t much matter now. The link to him is destroyed. Doubt I’ll be able to get another.” “But-” “Doesn’t even like magic. Makes him all antsy. Cannae just give him a sachet and say ‘please hang onto these magic plants so you dunnae get drawn an’ quartered’, can I?” “You could,” he said gently. She snorted and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I should have known… I’m sleeping on the couch. Goodnight.”

Asra sighed, hurt and guilt in his eyes as he turned away and retreated upstairs. Rosie finished the last of her drink before curling up into a tight ball on the couch. She grabbed a pillow and screamed into it until her voice was hoarse, staring at the wall until she fell into a fitful sleep. She had a sinking feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better.

#kismet #rosie #julian #julian devorak #arcana #the arcana #ive posted previews of this chapter before but its so fun to finally see it all together #also fun to see how rosie :“) tends to lash out at the people she loves when shes upset :”)#and by fun i mean very sad #also RIP to her ex that ended up w a termite infestation. She really said im playing the long game. gonna fuck up your houses foundation

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plscallmeeren · 8 months

Text

2 D A Y S A N D D A Y S

'The dirty leaves are sailing

On a hot wind ocean

And the summer comes and the summer goes

And always has and will

And something, somewhere that you said

Goes ricochet all through my head

And flashing like a neon sign, the time stood still

Hours of forever

Running all together

Like the crossroads of a minute

And you and me were in it

And I never saw it coming

Never saw it fade away

Today, today, today

Days and days

And still the whining of the wheels

Is closest to the way I feel

And winter comes and winter goes

And always has and will

Another hour, another day

Another year you pissed away

Remember walking in the rain

I'm walking there still

Like every heart to beat before

And every wave to kiss the shore

I'm not the first, I'm not the last

And soon to be your past

But every morning

When the light comes

Creeping in around my eyes

Another future falls behind

The one I had in mind

Days and days'

- Concrete Blonde

I slowly packed my things into my bag, sliding my notebook between my history books, then my planner...

I was in the state again. That state of derealisation where you have no fucking idea what's going on, you're pretty sure you're dreaming, and nothing matters and you're at total peace with everything.

What were the gods thinking when they created Pisces?

"Miss Crown, would you hurry up, please? I have places to be, you know," the shrill voice of my maths teacher sounded, annoyance lingering in her stare after her words were fully drenched.

"Of course," I replied quietly, feeling nothing as I slung the worn leather bag over my shoulder and picked up my folder, gliding over the floor to leave the room.

That teacher was difficult. Certainly, she had suffered trauma via loss. Most likely the death of a child or much younger sibling. She's just one.

The halls were busy, students chattering and gossiping and complaining like any of it was important. Strange. Why did they care?

In the end, we were all on a single planet in one solar system in one galaxy in one of endless universes which is completely unimportant, and even if it were, you are a single person in the mind-boggling endlessness of time, with a single problem or matter of distaste or new relationship that will make absolutely no difference to anything.

Strange.

'This is the strangest life I've ever known'. Jim Morrison said that. Smart guy, though he needed the drugs to realise it, often.

But I do it, too. Worry about things. Worry about people. About myself and how I look. No point denying it. We all do. Whether for ourselves or others.

My feet had wandered less aimlessly than I had thought, leading me to the forest surrounding our school like a comforting blanket hiding the lunatic assailment it felt like.

The first leaves had already descended to their early disconnection. I liked to think of them as hitting the ground, hitting reality. Like before they were transformed, they finally understood. I hoped that's what happens to humans, too.

I watched my shoes as I walked along the thin path that was hardly a path anymore due to lack of use. Crappy, plastic, black boots that reached my ankles. One of the three pairs of shoes I owned. I used to think they looked like DocMartens. Now I didn't think anything of them, whatsoever. I simply didn't care.

20 minutes later I was sitting at the bench Eddie and I had practically claimed, listening to Concrete Blonde and doing some of my mind exercises. I was half broken out of the state, but it would take talking to someone or having them talk directly to me for me to wake up. I didn't really want to. It was so peaceful in my mind for once.

"Hello, beauty," Eddie's voice drawled, circling the wooden table in a mesmerising fashion. It should have woken me up. But somehow... his presence made the world more ethereal than before.

"Hello," I breathed, noticing as the word left me that the circle was cracking, ancient safety and understanding that I had claimed thoughtlessly tumbling away, fraying at the edges.

"What are you...doing here?," he asked carefully, eyebrows raising as he stumbled around.

I didn't answer, just looking at him, watching, remembering, feeling. But it wasn't the bad kind of feeling I was used to.

"Hello? Raven? You good?"

My head rolled once around, its weight tolling on my neck as my tongue poked out between my lips momentarily. My head lolled to one side and then another lazily as I hummed the opening of Tomorrow, Wendy quietly, Eddie giving up on his questions as he sat down beside me.

It is complete now, 2 ends of time are neatly tied - A one way street; She's walking to the end of the line - And there she meets; Faces she sees in her heart and mind; They say, good try. Tomorrow Wendy is going to die.

"Beautiful," I whispered, staring at the sky as to not drown in Eddie. And drown I would.

"The sky?," he questioned, sounding a little confused but accepting, accepting of my strange behaviour.

"No," I denied, my gaze finally wondering down to meet his.

"What then?"

"You," I said simply, smiling gently as his eyes widened a little.

"Me? I'm beautiful? Nah," he disagreed, his face leaning close to mine. It broke.

"You can't run from the truth forever," I saved myself, relishing in all the human emotions I was cursed and gifted with anew.

"Oh, the truth? So this is an objective observation?" he grinned, twirling a strand of hair around his fingers.

"Yep," I chucked, no longer able to sound serious. How could I?

"Well, okay, then. Guess that mystery's solved." He smiled widely, adoration clear in his eyes as he looked at me. I only knew one other person who had ever looked at me like that. But even with them... it didn't overwhelm me quite as much. Not really.

It made me feel giddy with love, being looked at like that. I savoured the moment dearly. That is, until I realised I was looking back the exact same way.

"Well, fuck me if I'm wrong-"

"You're wrong," Eddie interjected, making me scoff in joking disbelief as he looked at me innocently.

"You did not just- okay. Sure. Sure. But I'm not wrong," I glared, watching him blush profusely. Not so shamelessly confident after all.

"Now I've forgotten what I wanted to say," I groaned, throwing my head back dramatically.

"Then I guess you were wrong," he smirked, playfully draping an arm over my shoulders.

"I never made this deal, love," I reminded him, placing a finger on his lips as he leaned in teasingly, pushing him away gently.

"Don't you wish you did?"

"Man, you are one step ahead of your past self, ain't ya?" I smirked incredulously, shaking my head as I spoke.

"C'mon, you can't tell me the sight of these hands doesn't turn you on," he countered, holding them up as if to prove it.

I couldn't answer, laughing already at the truth of his hands being a sight for sore eyes.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," he finalised, leaning back with a triumphant look on his face.

"O...kay," I drawled, "let's just move on from that theme, kay?"

"Do we have to?"

"Yes."

...

"How are you so tense?" I questioned incredulously, squeezing the spots just over his shoulder-blades thoroughly.

"How are you so good at this," he countered, leaning into my touch more and more as I found a sore spot.

"That would be called experience," I pushed down on the muscle just beneath his arm, making him yelp. "Found the motherfucker."

"Yep," he wheezed, holding his sides defensively. I laughed quietly, resting my chin on his shoulder.

"I'll just finish this bit and then I'll stop, 'kay?" I offered, Eddie reluctantly nodding.

"I still think it'd be better if I took my t-shirt off."

"I still think I would agree if you didn't say it with such a suggestive undertone," I countered, slipping my hands back under his shirt to continue.

"That's an opinion."

"Romeo and Juliet being a tragedy is an opinion."

"Damn."

I sighed, sitting down behind him with one leg on either side of the bench: "Apologies for the scornful metaphor, I'm just reading it at the moment."

"What, Shakespeare?" he asked, puzzled, looking even more confused as I nodded.

"But- We're doing The Prince in English at the moment, remember? Why are you reading Romeo and Juliet?" he turned his head backwards so that he could look at me.

"God, I love that book. But believe it or not, you can read outside of school, as well," I teased, ignoring the eyes squinting at me as his head fell forward again.

"No, I know that. I read stuff for... never mind. But why Shakespeare?" he pressed, disbelief caressing his words.

"Because there's a reason people liked him in the first place. He's good," I defended myself, withdrawing my hands from his back. He turned around quickly, grabbing my hands so that I couldn't pull them back.

"Hm. But it's all so sad." His eyes shone as he looked at me, but I could tell his mind was far away.

"Not as sad as The Prince. Power has a way of doing that," I added softly, tracing endless lines over his hands with my free thumbs.

"What do you mean?" His eyebrows furrowed adorably, wonder taking the place of the former distance in his eyes.

"Well, the book's about power. How to gain it, how to keep it, how cruel you have to be. Politics, basically. And there's nothing as sad as politics," I explained my thought process, my eyes wandering his face like it was a new world to explore. A foreign one, yet one that still felt like home, like a beautiful stranger. I didn't mind exploring for once.

"At least in America," he grinned, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"At least in America," I agreed, nodding with raised eyebrows and a smile.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Our gazes met, and I felt whole for a moment. Like how I felt earlier, but with emotion. Is that... happy?

No, I'm happy all the time. Often. It doesn't feel like this. This is strange. Different. Mesmerising.

"Do you like girls?" he asked finally, gulping visibly as if this might offend me.

"Would you mind if I did?" I countered unsurely. He didn't strike me as homophobic, but then again, many people wouldn't until you tell them. Tess.

"No," he replied, but there was a definite hesitance in his voice. Mind you, a hesitance I was not naïve enough to think of as homophobia or hatred. More like disappointment.

I contemplated. I waited. This was no easy thing to say. Such hatred had ruined possibly one of the most important things in my entire life for me. But it was Eddie. How could I not trust him? It would be distasteful. Disrespectful after all we had been through.

"Then yes, I like girls. Do you?" The quizzical but earnest look on my face apparently caught him off guard, because he started laughing a little.

"Yeah. Yeah," he nodded hastily, smiling widely as he continued, "but you like boys, too?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Uh, don't think so. But who knows, right?" he smiled, which set off the inevitable domino effect that had me smiling, too.

"Can I ask you a question?" His expression morphed in surprise, but he quickly nodded.

"How is it you were never scared of me? I sent a kid to hospital on my first day here, I've beat up multiple since, my reputation proceeds me as a psycho or something... and if that's not enough, anyone else was scared off by the fact I actually dated Billy Hargrove for years. But none of it ever seemed to bother you." My head tilted to one side as we held eye contact, and an irreparable sadness seemed to settle in his eyes, invisible tears celebrating their treachery silently.

"I was never afraid of your beauty," he answered after a few moments, his voice barely a whisper as he held my hands even tighter. "If anything, I'm less afraid of you than of anyone else at that damn school."

His tone was mocking, yes. Of course, otherwise he couldn't afford to say something like that.

A ghost said that. Or was it the Ghost? Or will they? He wouldn't understand.

"Even less than Gareth or Jeff? 'Cuz that's actually pretty hard to manage," I jested, his laugh lighting up my mood even more. That wasn't supposed to happen. That only happened with-

"Okay, maybe a bit more than them. But only because I care what you think of me." He smiled softly, a gesture I reciprocated.

"You don't have to worry about that. Not if you're being honest now."

"I am. I promise."

"Don't promise me anything," I pleaded quietly, "it won't work. The promise doesn't- I don't make promises. And I certainly don't accept them. Except for when they're from Brynn. Because I need that reassurance she won't put salt or pepper in the social worker's coffee." I chuckled lightly, easily brushing off the darkness I had hauled upon myself. I wonder if it only felt so dark to me.

"Who's Brynn, again?" he questioned curiously, his head moving in all the perfect ways so that his hair framed his face better than a painting could show. The glint in his eye no camera could capture. I was the only one who would ever see him exactly like this in this exact moment.

"Um," I stuttered, realising I had been staring for too long, "she's my youngest sister. A mischief-maker. She likes being called Loki or god of mischief, she's uh- Yeah. She's trouble, but very loveable."

He smiled. "She sounds great. Brynn. Hm. I'll have to remember that. Who are your other siblings again? I know about Miriam. She's one of the ones who always graffiti everything with good quotes and stuff."

"Yeah, she's cool. She's the eldest after me. Then there's Evangeline, who's... practically an angel. She's, well, perfect, basically. And Brynn is one of the twins, the other being Favian. He's, uh, he's a sweetheart. Gentleman. He'll be one of the best people out there one day. They all will." I felt extremely proud talking about them. They were all so great. Maybe I was proud to be related to them. Maybe it's because I practically raised the younger three. Who knows?

"I'd love to meet them...?" Eddie suggested carefully, leaning forward to catch my fallen gaze.

"Yeah, someday... shit! The time," I cried out, almost falling over as I struggled to jump up, running out of the clearing faster than Eddie could even comprehend what was going on.

They can wait. They can wait, it's okay, I tried to calm myself, but the anxiety was kicking in. I didn't know why it mattered that I was there on time. It just did.

"You could never look after them the way I do!"

My heart was speeding in my chest, a buzzing filling my ears that I could almost feel as my head filled with scenarios where I'd trip because I was running so fast, not to mention not being on time.

"Wait up!" Eddie was calling from behind me, but I ignored him, free will or no.

"Wait," he panted as he caught up with me, catching my arm in his grip, making me try and rip free of his hold, but the uneven breathing had me weak.

"What's wrong? Why is it so bad if you get back late?" he urged, shaking me slightly as he asked.

I didn't answer, instead furrowing my brows in confusion. Why was he stopping me when I obviously wanted to go?

"Is something wrong? Is it your siblings? It's only 15 minutes late... Why do you need to get back so bad-"

"Because I need to pick the kids up," I seethed, glaring him down as I finally broke free from his grasp.

"If you need someone to talk to-"

Before I ran off again, I whirled around to face him, breathing: "Don't worry, there's no one else in the world I could turn to."

And with that I was off, leaving a very bewildered Eddie standing there, saddening words catching him thoroughly off guard.

...

I tried to keep my breathing under control and stopped myself from panting as I sat in my car, sweating slightly and not seeing clearly enough to know when or who was around.

"Hey, Raven," I heard a voice call casually, my stomach turning at how bad his timing was.

"Yeah?" I answered with some difficulty, putting on a perfectly crafted smile and looking at where his blurred form stood.

"You wanna meet up some time?" he called, seeming to be somewhat in the distance.

"Sure. I've got second period free tomorrow," I answered, silently hoping he would just leave it be, no matter how much I wanted to see him.

"That's not what I meant, but sure. We can make up another time then. See ya around," he sang the last part, charming as always. My lucky day. That was fucking fast.

I heard the boot open just as my sight started focusing. The unmistakable sound of schoolbags being thrown into the back was heard and next thing I knew Evan was sitting in the back, speaking to me importantly, yet in a slightly disproving manner.

"You've got to stop spending time with him. He's not good for you. Do you have any idea what he does to Max?" she lectured, sticking her head out between the driver's and passenger's seat.

"Yes, actually, I do. You know that, Evan. But I've known him longer than Max has, and we have a very different relationship, okay? And I appreciate you looking out for me, but it's okay. Seriously. I'm not an idiot," I comforted her, even though I think she thought I was the one who needed comforting.

She looked wholly doubtful, but sat back with a scoff anyway, giving up, for which I was very grateful.

I raised them well. Did you?

3103 words

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Please comment and vote if you liked the chapter :)

#fanfic #long story #eddie munson #edward munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #chapter 2 #new chapter #my ocs

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beneaththebrim · 2 years

Note

anon who asked about the ring here, thank you for such a thorough answer! every bit of lie huo i get to read is such a punch to the gut. I'd love to read a post about relevant lyrics if it would be fun for you to write up? It's always really cool to hear what thoughts are happening when curating a playlist! :)

Okay, here goes (the glosses at the end pretty much turned into throwing in chunks of devastating liehuo quotes ashdflksajdgl;a):

Also, for anyone who's curious, this is the playlist in question: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0g2n2lc0zsh321hl7P3jwk?si=bd4fc27ab7c54b2d

Ulver - For the Love of God

Fucking heaven / To kingdom come

Holy war, slaughtering gods—what precedes jiling’s birth, the moment of their being forged together.

Chelsea Wolfe - Twin Fawn

Were you sleeping on the other side / Into frozen, monstrous light / It killed you, a stillbirth, anonymous loss

You cut me open, you lived inside

Heavenly demon and heavenly demon sword in their youth, leaning on each other.

Ulver - Rolling Stone

Poor little sister / I hope you understand / The babe in the woods / Will be taken by a wolf

For the curtain to fall / To wipe the blood / Off the face of the Earth

Jiling’s brutal youth & Sheng Lingyuan’s promise to Aluojin.

Depeche Mode - Precious

Angels with silver wings / Shouldn't know suffering / I wish I could take the pain for you

More of jiling’s youth, how they both wanted to protect each other.

Ulver - Velvet Sunsets (cover of a song by The Music Emporium)

Arm in arm / Soul in soul / Floating on velvet sunsets of summer days

Sudden rain / Cold and free / Exploring the depth of untold pleasure

Now the winds of autumn suggest breaths of doubt to our hearts / Sealed by the oncoming darkness / Torrents wash away summer's warmth / Leaving us shivering

Those last days in Dongchuan before Sheng Lingyuan went out to his fate. A spring dream, a mild autumn day before the weiqi board.

Arca - Anoche

(in translation from Spanish)

Last night I dreamt of you / Your figure and your arms / Last night I yearned for you / Even though I hadn't met you yet

Alone I healed you / The wounds of the wars you’ve fought / Last night I loved you / And you left me shattered

Last night I dreamt / Of our simultaneous death / Last night I cried / Out of happiness, how strange it made me feel

That the love has rinsed me / That your blood warmed / The tissue of my entrails / Last night I dreamt of you / Regardless of you being real or imaginary

Last night I was smiling / Thinking that you were possible / It’s enough for me to know / It’s enough for me to know

Yearning, foreshadowing, Lingyuan’s dreams for xiao-Ji.

Gregory and The Hawk - Boats & Birds

If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky / You can hide underneath me and come out at night / When I turn jet black and you show off your light / I live to let you shine, I live to let you shine / But you can skyrocket away from me / And never come back if you find another galaxy / Far from here with more room to fly / Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

If you'll be my boat, I'll be your sea / A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity / Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze / I live to make you free, I live to make you free / But you can set sail to the west if you want to / And past the horizon, 'til I can't even see you / Far from here where the beaches are wide / Just leave me your wake to remember you by

Lingyuan’s dreams for xiao-Ji, when he thought xiao-Ji would surely outlive him and their love was impossible.

(recc’d by chuck)

SOHN - Artifice

Is it over? / Did it end while I was gone? / 'Cause my shoulders / Couldn't hold that weight for long / And it all just feels the same

Somebody better let me know my name / Before I give myself away / Somebody better show me how I feel / 'Cause I know I'm not at the wheel

The fall of Dongchuan.

Chromatics - Twist the Knife

It’s alright / Twist the knife / It’s alright / Twist the knife

Sheng Lingyuan struggling to shore up power and scheme against Danli.

(I had trouble with this one—I wanted to put it later, when Sheng Lingyuan is being cruel to Xuan Ji, but I also like it as a song about Sheng Lingyuan becoming steadily more ruthless.)

Ulver - Let the Children Go

We hold each other / In the dead of night

When xiao-Ji is all Sheng Lingyuan has left.

Chelsea Wolfe - Offering

Skeletal sand as a lesson that became an offering

The final march against Jiuxun, both Lingyuan and xiao-Ji being overwhelmed by Heavenly Law’s will.

Baths - Broadback

Don't want you to, don't want you to, don't want you to die

Public opinion turns against the heavenly demon sword. Lingyuan realizes all too late that he’s losing xiao-Ji.

Karmina - All the King’s Horses

All the king's horses and all the king's men / Couldn't put me back together again

Xiao-Ji has been shattered; Sheng Lingyuan is broken.

(recc’d by shy)

Bob Moses - The Only Thing We Know

If you won't leave me, then I won't go / And if you can't see me, guess I'm a shadow / If I say sorry, would you let go? / It's the only thing we know

Xiao-Ji looks on invisibly as Sheng Lingyuan goes mad trying to reforge the sword over and over again, begs him to let him go, unheard.

Chelsea Wolfe - Crazy Love

Crazy love, it's not you I fear / You let the devil in, you hold him near

Crazy love, where is our home? / Look at the place we're in, the hell we left it in

Xiao-Ji continues watching Sheng Lingyuan destroy himself, powerless to stop him. He watches Sheng Lingyuan gouging out his own heart, and rushes to catch it and protect it within himself.

Soulsavers - In the Morning

Was there a message / That I’m not getting? / Do you think that I am lost or am I found / Just after midnight / When I woke up sweating / I was dreaming you were right here with me now

Lingyuan’s Trepidation-laced dreams.

The Cure - 39

And the fire is almost out / Almost out, almost out / Almost out, almost out / And there's nothing left to burn

Sheng Lingyuan approaches the last years of his life, the seal on Chiyuan causing his own fire to burn ever lower.

Baths - Earth Death

My men cannot get out of being pulled into the earth / I've been done here, only time keeps me from the demiurge

Sheng Lingyuan ends himself.

Soulsavers - Shadows Fall

I see circles of gold in spite of my eyes / When darkness falls from above / Stay under me, my love / I see circles of gold fading to black / Until the heavens have died / You'll be the thorn in my side

Still I am loathe to gather / All of these bones together

I see circles of gold burned off the sun / When shadows fall from above / Stay close to me, my love

Xiao-Ji gathers Lingyuan’s bones and prepares to pass the aeons in solitude, guarding Chiyuan and nourishing Lingyuan's corpse.

Zola Jesus - Veka

When the words become you / When the story builds you in / Who will find you there?

Who will find you / When all you are, all you are is dust? / Who will find you / In centuries?

Centuries pass, and Sheng Lingyuan’s reputation is cemented in history.

Wax Idols - Lonely You

It was a sorry gilded cage / That bound our hearts together / Now I just want to push the weight / Of you away forever

Xiao-Ji tries and fails to forget Sheng Lingyuan, over and over again.

Moonface - Walk the Circle in the Other Direction

The thought is eating at you / Like a rat that eats the whole heart / And the room you thought was haunted / Is just the room you're always in / Walk the circle in the other direction then / Walk the circle in the other direction

Through countless iterations of the Nirvana Stone, 35 bones broken, xiao-Ji circles himself again and again. At last, he becomes Xuan Ji.

Zola Jesus - Exhumed

In the static you are reborn

Sheng Lingyuan's Tongxincao puppet is summoned back into the mortal world by the Somber Sacrifice.

Susanne Sundfør - Accelerate

Wars erupting like volcanoes / Blood streaming down the walls / It's out of our hands, so baby let go

Sheng Lingyuan & Xuan Ji’s first clashes in the mortal world after three thousand years.

Boy Harsher - Pain

I am gonna follow you tonight / All the way, all the way home / I am gonna find you in the night / All the way, all the way home / You see me you see a stranger / I see you I see danger

Sheng Lingyuan reverts to his original remains after being struck by the Somber Sacrifice’s backlash.

Bel Canto - Summer

The place they were stranded / The traces that they made / All got washed away / The people before us / The fires that they burned / Somehow all want out

Do we all believe in endless summers / Do we all believe in summer?

Revisiting Dongchuan.

TR/ST - Iris

Night holds hope to see each light

Sheng Lingyuan sees the human megacity, a future he never could have imagined.

ACTORS - Crystal

Into the night out in the cold / Yours is the hand no one can hold

Xuan Ji confronts his conflicted feelings toward Sheng Lingyuan, wanting the what he knows is foolish to want.

Salem - Starfall

I've seen that senseless look in your eyes / And I know we've only just met / But I don't want to see you cry

Xuan Ji can’t help but feel soft for Sheng Lingyuan when the latter is vulnerable.

Franz Ferdinand - Walk Away

Said I'm strong now I know that I'm a leaver / I love the sound of you walking away

And I am cold, yes, I'm cold / But not as cold as you are

Xuan Ji watches Sheng Lingyuan dissolve into the crowd.

Soulsavers - Just Try

It gave me more than I deserve / It gave me peace / It gave me everything I love in this world / And now I have to sleep

In Yuyang, on his own terms, Sheng Lingyuan memorializes xiao-Ji with his every action.

Chelsea Wolfe - The Abyss

Watch your thoughts in the dark / They’ll drag you down to the deep blue sea / Stare it down, the abyss / Run away, run away from it

It hurts to love when I remember / We were born unto chaos

Under the waves and into the tomb, Xuan Ji begins to remember his past.

Mitski - I Don’t Smoke

If you need to be mean / Be mean to me / I can take it and put it inside of me

“But him, he’s just a knife.” (62)

TR/ST - Destroyer

I’m the destroyer, of everyone

Sheng Lingyuan twists the knife.

London Grammar - Who Am I

Who am I, who am I to want you now you're leaving? / Who am I, who am I, who am I to judge you now you're leaving?

Xuan Ji’s identity crisis, trying to fight against the deluge of memories that formed him and the yearning along with them.

Bob Moses - Talk

We won't talk about / All the things we need to most / And every time, we're coming close / You pass it off and look the other way / So we won't talk about it

Jiling don’t talk about it.

Depeche Mode - A Pain That I’m Used To

All this running around, well, it's getting me down / Just give me a pain that I'm used to / I don't need to believe all the dreams you conceive / You just need to achieve something that rings true

Xuan Ji plays along with Sheng Lingyuan’s 'bone seal spirit' theory and restrains the memories of the heavenly demon sword spirit.

Purity Ring - Stranger Than Earth

There is no lesson in magic / There were untimely dreams / Where I knew / Woken in a fog, don't sweat it / And reckon none of it / Had come from you

Again, again, again, I wasn't thinkin' 'bout you / I wasn't, I wasn't

More repression, on the verge of bursting.

The Soft Moon - Dead Love

I want to breathe you / Inhale your soul / Touch your body / Feel your bones

Don't leave me all alone / Don′t leave me all alone / Don′t leave me all alone / Don't leave me all alone

In and out of helicopters across the country, into an illusion realm, Xuan Ji chases Sheng Lingyuan.

Sharon Van Etten - Your Love is Killing Me

Break my legs so I won't walk to you / Cut my tongue so I can't talk to you / Burn my skin so I can't feel you / Stab my eyes so I can't see

In the heavenly demon illusion realm, Xuan Ji witnesses Sheng Lingyuan’s self-destruction anew.

Chelsea Wolfe - Color of Blood

A hunger never satisfied / I can't keep you off my mind / Dancing, moving, passing time / Lost worlds and endless nights

I held you at a distance then / So I could keep you sacred now / I watched the veins under my skin / Moving, changing from blue to red/ Those colors battle to repent / Fighting some kind of punishment / For loving you

Xuan Ji sinks into his heart demon.

M83 - Don’t Save Us From the Flames

Bleeding all around / Liquid metal through my veins / The radio's burning / A ghost is screaming your name

The heart demon miasma spreads, covering everything. At last, Sheng Lingyuan realizes who Xuan Ji is.

Team Ghost - Broken Devices

I can hear your device / Feed me, with your lies / I look at that sequence / I don’t care about nothing, anymore / Each standing in the other’s lies / Memories are burning / Split screams are dying / What did we do wrong? / What did we do wrong?

A meeting, once again, after millennia.

Giles Corey - Blackest Bile

I open up my heart / And let it all in / And it kills all my love / And hope for everyone

And it hasn't been easy on you / I know that more than most / I am born to be alone / I am just some lonely ghost

Sheng Lingyuan continues to hold Xuan Ji at a distance, knowing he is not long for this world.

(recc’d by chuck)

Dave Gahan & Soulsavers - All of This and Nothing

I'm all of this and nothing / I'm the dirt beneath your feet / I'm the sun that rises while you're sleeping / I'm all you need

Sheng Lingyuan vows to see Xuan Ji off before he goes.

Future Islands - I Knew You

And it was so good to hear / After so many years / Not for the pain / But to hear you say anything real

Well I've been working nights / In and out of fights and flights / Kites in storms / Forgot this war

When I had to run / We didn't leave it all said and done / But will it be tonight? / Something in the cold of your eyes says, "Tonight."

I knew you / I knew you as you were, not as you are / You knew me too / But I'm not the same, it's not the way / The way, you're used to

They talk, but the distance doesn’t disperse.

Glass Animals - Cocoa Hooves

Come on you hermit / You never fight back / Why don’t you play with bows and arrows? / Why don’t you dance like / You’re sick in your mind? / Why don’t you set your wings on fire?

Xuan Ji cracks under the pressure; he dares to break down Sheng Lingyuan’s boundaries.

Future Islands - Ran

And what's a song without you? / When every song I write is about you / When I can't hold myself without you / And I can't change the day I found you

How we lose control, on these roads

Days pass and Xuan Ji keeps trying.

Soulsavers - You Will Miss Me When I Burn

Will you miss me when I burn / And will you eye me with a longing / It is longing that I feel / To be missed or to be real

When you have no one / No one can hurt you

Will you miss me when I burn / And will you close the others' eyes / It would be such a favor / If you would blind them

Sheng Lingyuan tries to maintain the distance.

The Soft Moon - The Pain

How can you love someone like me / How can you touch / Make myself bleed

The pain won't pass away / I take the way I feel to put you down

Sheng Lingyuan tries to break it off, saying the cruelest things he can think of to Xuan Ji.

Franz Ferdinand - Outsiders

I've seen some years, but you're still my Caesar / With everything I feel, I feel you've already been here / Oh, oh / Love'll die and lovers fade, but you still remain here / Squeezing in your fingers what it means for me to be, yeah / Oh, oh / The only difference is what might be / Is now

Sheng Lingyuan is betrayed by jiaoren song and Xuan Ji confronts him.

Chromatics - White Light

White Light / Run Away From Me / I Want To Hold You In My Hand / White Light / Sing Your Love To Me / I Am A Stranger In Your World

Xuan Ji witnesses what Sheng Lingyuan would have done if he could do it all over again.

Ulver - All the Love

The past / The future

The promises

The folly / Of those who died

For nothing

The Heavenly White Jade Palace collapses.

Chelsea Wolfe - Iron Moon

My heart is a tomb / My heart is an empty room / I've given it away / I never want to see it again

And all your words could save me / But keep your love away from me / In all the worlds decaying / Is there place that's safe for us?

After attempting to run away, Sheng Lingyuan agrees to a New Year’s meal with Xuan Ji, and tries to explain soberly why their love is doomed.

Nightmare Fortress - A Life Worth Leaving

What you needed / Was an ending / To a life worth leaving

He pressed both his hands down on the armrests of Sheng Lingyuan’s chair, trapping him on it: “I didn’t say it had to last long.” (108)

Moonface and Siinai - Quickfire, I Tried

And quickfire, I tried to not go crazy / But the winter got inside me anyway

Sheng Lingyuan succumbs to his desires.

Salem - Old Gods

Give me one more chance to set you free / If I want you, I'll wait, I'll wait forever / I'm going, I want you here with me / Give me just one night to make you love me / I met god and asked him what he wants / And silence was the answer til I've gone / Heaven is a place out here with me / So burn those wings and let us all be free

“Ah,” Xuan Ji thought, “His Majesty has pardoned the realm.” (108)

Zola Jesus - Siphon

'Cause we'd rather clean the blood of a living man / We'd rather lean over, hold your warm, warm hand / We'd love to clean the blood of a living man / We'd hate to see you give into those cold, dark nights inside your head, inside your head, inside your head

Won't let you bleed out, can't let you bleed out / Won't let you bleed out, can't let you bleed out

Xuan Ji tricks Sheng Lingyuan and returns his heart. Using jiaoren esoteric speech, he ties his own survival to Sheng Lingyuan's.

King Woman - Hierophant

You're always on my mind / I want you all the time / The pain of tenderness is / A wound of love

“What are you looking at? You take your hollow heart for a storage closet. Before, you loaded it with dozens of jin of broken iron, and now you use it to carry around a lousy wooden carving sold by a ten yuan shop. Your Majesty, why is all this junk worthy of entry, but not me?” (109)

ACTORS - Like Suicide

Oh, it's in your eyes / I can see you now / Cold as ice / You say you're mine / Like suicide / No way out / No way out

“If you are harmed in the future, I will bear the same pain. If you are buried in Chiyuan, we will be buried together.” He lifted up his nonexistent tail in triumph, “You’re mine now.” (109)

Purity Ring - Repetition

Watching me is like watching a fire take your eyes from you / Hope it isn't repetition / Though that's the only thing that keeps and takes you

Xuan Ji gloats and Sheng Lingyuan grits his teeth as they fight side by side at bureau headquarters.

Deep Sea Diver - Thunderbolts

Lightning bolts / they struck us both / In the middle of the day / for a second I was totally blind / I laughed the pain away

Caught up in a vision / we were both giving up / I could not believe it / thought it was another dream / but now I see

Never want to be alone again / never want to be alone / never want to be alone again / our hearts ignite when they beat together / when they beat beat beat together

At last cohesion, fighting together against the green-clad man.

ACTORS - Strangers

I would lie to you / To buy more time / I would die for you / To change your mind

When the night begins to fall / We're strangers after all

…Until Sheng Lingyuan finds out the jiaoren esoteric speech was only one-sided, that xiao-Ji could still die without taking him with.

Frank Ocean - Ivy

I thought that I was dreamin' when you said you love me / The start of nothin' / Had no chance to prepare, couldn't see you comin' / And we started from nothin' / Ooh, I could hate you now / It's alright to hate me now

“I didn’t ask you for an explanation, it’s already all in the past. I’m just saying all this to tell you, stop doing things ‘for my own good’. For a person who can’t even control his own heart, where do you big characters get off always haughtily acting like you can toy around with other people’s feelings!? Do you think I don’t want to get rid of you? I’ve tried fucking everything…” (120)

Violence - Things Fall Apart

You and I are the same / A system bound by the light you emanate / I just wanna break free from the chains. You sent him to bring back my love, but it′s too late

Things fall apart

I give and I give, you take and I- Break / I live and I give, but it′s too late... I fell in love with a- Snake

Things fall apart

Sheng Lingyuan ransacks Xuan Ji’s mind to break the jiaoren esoteric speech, then reverts to uprooting his heart once again.

Zola Jesus - Remains

Do ruins give power / Or do they give proof / That something meant more, something meant more / Than what we, what we lived through?

What remains of us? / What remains of us? / What remains of us? / What remains of us?

Whoever’s heart was returned to whom, whoever’s blood was taken away by whom, the connection between the pair of them that had lasted for millennia like a lover’s goodbye, was now completely severed. Each one was left all alone. (121)

MorMor - Don’t Cry

Eyes covered, took your word / The light dies each time I lose sight / Couldn't take the shame each night / Eyes covered, took your word / The light dies each time I lose sight / Couldn't take the pain each night

You just line me up / What was left unsaid / Quiet's all you had / The future's unfair / If we listen close / We're running out of time / You don't seem to mind / The future sounds fun / The future sounds fun

Don't you cry / Don't you cry / Don’t you cry

Xuan Ji couldn’t help but lose his breath. He had the sudden vague feeling that when he made a scene just then, he’d accidentally cracked open a clam that had been tight-lipped for millennia. If he missed this chance, he’d never again have the opportunity to explore these inner feelings.

In that split second, he decided to milk it, and blurted out: “Lingyuan-gege.”

“Wait for you to grow up, and even if I hadn’t died of old age, I’d probably still have a beard to stroke and graying temples, right?” Sheng Lingyuan seemed to let out a chuckle, “After a while, such beautiful thoughts no longer affected me, and by then they naturally dissolved away, just a spring dream, that’s it, nothing more.”

He had once also had expectations for the future.

His wish was very small… just that, before he died of old age, he might see the blossoming of flowers he’d spent his life exhausting all his heart’s blood to water.

That was it.

“But it’s ominous to think too deeply.” Sheng Lingyuan’s voice was so light it was inaudible, “I wouldn’t dare.” (121)

Zola Jesus - Lawless

In these lawless times / I’ve got nothing left to hide / Give it up for good / You either run or take it / And I know I won’t lose the will to make it out alive

Remember those unbilled days when I bought all / And nobody could tell me I was wrong no / And in my own desire I’d be owed to no one other than myself / We gotta get used to it now

And in those old days oh I get so lonely / And in those old days all I could fit could hold me

But / This land is nobody's / When you fall apart / And I’ll be there / Waiting to claim it up

“The feudal monarchy’s all been buried in the dirt, Your Majesty, so when the hell will you let yourself abdicate?'' The previous night, Xuan Ji had been walking through the ruins of the Anomaly Control Bureau, and the soles of his shoes were dirty. He hadn’t had time to change, so after kicking him, a clear shoe print was left on Sheng Lingyuan’s leg, “I have to just take whatever you give me, and after enduring it, I have to kneel three times and kowtow nine in deep gratitude. Well fuck you, asshole!”

Sheng Lingyuan: “…”

“Chiyuan’s a tinderbox that hasn’t gone dead in ten thousand years and it could go up any second now. The Vermilion Bird clan’s been extinct since the beginning of the great war. It’s only me, this half-person exerting myself to keep it down and guard Chiyuan in the place of an entire clan! Am I not worthy of His Majesty the Human Sovereign? I have no need for you to feed me food and water, and I do not need your validation or pity. Mr. Loner, troubling you to look away from your high and mighty perch over all living things, and take a look at me instead! I am not some housepet or palace concubine, I am your man!”

Those last few sentences didn’t really sound like human words, and Sheng Lingyuan finally came back to his senses and kicked him back.

Xuan Ji took it, feeling neither pain nor itch: “I’ll be impudent! I won’t get out!”

His Majesty’s cursing vocabulary was limited to these two phrases, both of which were utterly thwarted by Xuan Ji. His pitiful skills were all depleted. (122)

Salem - Fires in Heaven

Fires in the sky / Fire fire fire / Fire in the sky / Fire fire fire

Apocalypse descends.

Sharon Van Etten - You Know Me Well

All the skies are fallin' and the sun is movin' up and down / Even when you're in a dark way / Some decisions shield you from the positivity until / You reach out to me / You say why you hate it as you pry your way in / I need another investigative mind / Tell me that you're injured, yourself, and you've been healing / And I will see this through

You know me well / You show me hell when I'm looking / And here you are / Looking

Jiling set off, finally having come to an accord.

London Grammar - Hell to the Liars

Hell to the Liars / Here’s to you and me

Here's to the things you love / Here's to those you fight enough / Hell to the rest of us / Here's to the things you love / Here's to the things you love

Sheng Lingyuan allows himself to grieve his one and only home.

Ulver - Christmas

(lyrics from the poem of the same title by Fernando Pessoa)

A god is born and others die. What is / Has neither come nor gone, but error moves / Today we have exchanged eternities / And what is past no novelty improves

Blind knowledge is working at useless ground / And crazy faith is living the dream of its liturgy / A new god is a word - or the mere sound / Don't seek and don't trust, for all is mystery

The masterminds reveal themselves. A new god is born.

ACTORS - We Don’t Have to Dance

We don’t have to dance / We don't have to talk / We'll just fade into each other / Till we’re gone

Sheng Lingyuan treats Xuan Ji to an illusion realm to rewrite those three thousand years alone.

Chromatics - City Beds

Trapped in wrinkled heads / Caged in city beds

Keep it alive / Keep it alive / Keep it alive / Keep it aLIVE / KEEP IT ALIVE / KEEP IT ALIVE

The illusion breaks, and Xuan Ji finds Sheng Lingyuan with only a fragment of a breath left in him.

Zola Jesus - It’s Not Over

It's not over tonight / It's not over tonight / It goes away now, away now / But it's not over tonight

But a breath is a breath; they both made it through, and humanity forges a path forward.

TORRES - Thirstier

You want someone to worship you / I see you lovin' to watch me risk it all / You think you’re always right, but you love watchin' me try / Provin' you’re wrong

Baby, keep me in your fantasies / Baby, keep your hands all over me / The more you look, the more you'll see / As long as I'm around, I'll be lookin' for a nerve to hit / The more of you I drink, the thirstier I get / Baby, baby

I know I wear you out, I'm never sleepy / I'm sorry for all the times I made you feel / Guilty for sleeping easy / But you get hot when I show you how devout I am / I walk the walk and I show off just how proud I am

Baby, keep me in your fantasies / Baby, even though you live with me / The more I look, the more I see / As long as I'm around, I'll be lookin' for a nerve to hit / The more of you I drink, the thirstier I get

The person accompanying him in the illusion realm was like sweet nectar. When he finished drinking, he felt utterly hydrated and fresh within, and his heart was very tranquil. At the time, Xuan Ji had the feeling that even if his life were to end right then and there, he’d have no regrets—perhaps because the one who made up this beautiful dream was a ‘retired old cadre’ who was only licentious on the outside, but whose passions were relatively limited.

But as it turned out, seeing it was totally different from touching the real thing. The real Sheng Lingyuan was like water with salt mixed in. The more he drank, the thirstier he got. The sounds and tactile sensations all lingered on around the corners of the ceiling and seeped into the cracks of his bones like a curse, refusing to leave. (138)

Future Islands - Glada

New canopies arise / From the crumbling framework / The remnants of fire

And you came as you are / And they said / “Heaven’s a mystery, unless you’re a star.” / “Unless you’ve a crown.”

But they’re wrong / And you can walk this head around and gone / Or we can fly

Who am I? / Do I deserve to see you again? / The slow lapping waves / Bathing my face in light

In the night / Long after summer winds / In the last, diving in / Finding love and a friend / In the dawn

The end, as ever a new beginning.

#ask brim #anon #烈火浇愁 #jiling #playlist #the emperor and his chicken #novel quotes

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croatian-nt · 3 years

Text

Sejan podcast

I know this isn’t in order but I also know everyone is waiting for this one so, here you go. Translation under the cut

Host, speaking to the camera: Good day dear viewers, and today-a treat. Dejan Lovren and Šime Vrsaljko. I was tempted to start this off with Šime's famos phase: Good day working people, tonight is a live" but it seemed a bit too much

Host, turning to them: should we expect something like that from the two of you during Euro as well?

Dejan: it's spontaneous for us. For Šime and me. We never know what will happen

Host: oh I see. Is it also partly the fact that you are a bit older now-

Šime: *giggling *

Host: -so you have this mindset of "oh we are older now, we'll leave it for younger players"?

Šime: *giggling louder * well no-we only improve with years that go by

Dejan: we get even worse

Šime: *openly laughing * yes, even worse!

Host: but the two of you continued that tradition even after WC. You call one another, you go live, you guve yourself into the ether, so to say

Šime: I mean, it's not...it's not showing people as much as they think-

Dejan: we show them maybe 1%!

*everyone laughs *

Šime: yeah we show them maybe 1% of the way we-I mean, we show everything through positivity and that's it. I guess people like that

Host: I know the two of you have been active during quarantine. You were both probably bored and had quite a bit of interesting conversations. Maybe we should touch a bit upon that. Is it something you guys plan or does one call another and then you just talk?

Dejan: Oh, it's as I said before. Šime knows that when I call him, I'll call him three times. He has to answer

Šime: yeah, we really don't plan that. I often have some things I am doing but then he is calling me to comment on something and I-I don't have the heart not to answer

Host: so Dejan, you were also quite bored in quarantine, and you tries quite a lot of activities. I believe cooking was also one and that one steak ended up burned

Dejan: the house almost burned down

Host: *laughs *

Dejan: no, seriously

Host: so it ended up completely black huh?

Dejan: yeah. But I did learn how to cook better after that

Host: and you Šime? I believe you said you didn't cook the eggs but the eggs cooked you. That there was oil everywhere

Šime: I mean, they closed us in the house. And I had some friends over and we were all really hungry so I made some eggs. They asked for fried eggs but they ended up getting scrambled ones

*about getting haircuts in Russia*

Šime: so I came downstairs, after the lady was finished with Kova already. And we share a glance and Kova is like 'brate...this really isn't good' but I take a seat anyway, hoping it will turn out alright. And then she started cutting it and I felt she was taking out too much hair so I stopped her. Still had patches of hair missing. It was awful

Dejan: the rest of us surely didn't let him forget about it

Host: so how did all of this start? I know the two of you were roommate and that Dejan pressure you into opening instagram account, which you didn't want to do. But you did in the end

Šime: yeah, he was pesting me about it for days. 'Šime please. Com'on just open an account please' and what could I do? I relented. And then...I think we made that Marica video first?

Dejan: yes, that's how it all started

Šime: yeah. I didn't know how anything on Instagram worked, so I played with filters and that's how Marica happened. Interesting, what can I say

Host: what's interesting is that none of that was planned. There was no plan, no censure, nothing. You just showed us things as they were

Dejan: well I think that's the best, really. Plans rarely work out as you want them

Šime: yeah. We didn't do it to, I don't know, pretend we are funny or for views or something like that. Just...what happens, happens

Host: do you miss it now? The fact that you aren't roommates?

Dejan and Šime overlapping: we didn't-weren't

Dejan: everyone has their own rooms. But it's practically like we are. Not much of a difference

Host: how did you think of your famous "aj lajk" idea?

Šime: well I don't it'-

Dejan: something got messed up in his brain

Šime: -something clicked in or out of place

Dejan: he just said something like "aj lajk a lot" and that was the end of it

Šime: no, I remember there was something-there was that moment well-erm

Dejan: laughs *

Šime: *sighs, shakes his head * I was watching this comedy from Jim Carrie and then he-and then he- *loses a train of thought *

Dejan: *laughs louder *

Šime: *smiles * there was something he did and-I thought of-

Dejan, whispering: aj lajk

Šime: no, it was-

Dejan, louder: ajjj laaajk

Šime: it was something different

*continous laughing from both Dejan and the host *

Šime: ...anway it was also spontaneous

-Card break-

Host: let's make first card break. You take the cards and ask the questions one to another

*Šime and Dejan take each one card *

Host: you can take all of-or you can take them one by one. Nevermind

Dejan: so what, I am asking him then?

Host: yes

Šime: don't give me any hard questions

Dejan: a yacht or a sailing boat?

Šime: a yacht

Host: a big one?

*voices overlaping *

Dejan: as long as everything fits in-

Šime: it doesn't really matter-

*pause. Šime shrugs. Dejan starts laughing *

Šime: I don't wanna sound too posh here. I don't spend much time on yachts and I was never on a sailing boat. And I am not very patient-

Dejan, overlaping: he doesn't have patience for that-

Šime, still overlaping: yeah, exactly-

Dejan, speaking over him: I think he is more likely to push the sailing boat himself-

Šime: I really don't think I'd like that- not one bit. Anyway, SUV or Cabriolet?

Dejan, looking pained: Cabrio.

Dejan: VAR or not VAR?

Šime: *sighs * no VAR

Šime: Jennifer Lopez or Shakira?

Dejan: *thinking*

Šime: Can he choose both?

Host: he can, but if he can choose one that would be better

Šime: I am just giving him an option

Dejan: JLo

Šime: ah, fine I guess

Dejan: rock or hip hop?

Šime: I listen all kinds of music so it depends

Šime: iPhone or Android?

Dejan: iPhone

Host: Šime you didn't play a lot of games because of your injury. We are all happy you are back now but I am curious. How did you feel at home, watching them play and suffer on the pitch while you are at home?

Dejan: what about how I suffered?

Šime: If someone told me I will not play for the nt for so long after WC during WC I eould have called them crazy. But I kept postponing the injury during WC and I paid the price after. So yes, it was hard, watching my boys that I spent so much time with, play without me and struggle while I wasn't there. But I am here now and we have a big chance once again to cheer up people who love Croatia

Host: Deki, there have been some new player joining the nt recetly. How do you think they are settling in?

Dejan: I think, good. I mean when I remember my start, of course you are a bit more shy but I am sure they'll be more outgoing with time. But they seem like nice guys

Host: do you think there is a potential in some of them to continue this entertainment thing you and Šime do? Or are they more closed of?

Šime, cutting in: I think there is always a way to joke around a bit. But-

* Dejan, shaking his head and mouthing no*

Host: no huh?

Šime: but-

*voices overlaping *

Dejan: it just doesn't exist-

Host: how would you encourage them to-

Dejan: you can't. You are either born that way or you aren't

Šime: I mean the two of us have been in the nt for awhile now and it's always the same. Every morning if I wake up even at 4 am I'd start laughing

*Dejan laughing *

Šime: it's just the way it is and you can't really describe it

Host: I wanted to ask, I don't know if this will ever happen but I would like to see you two as hosts one day. If you could choose someone to ask questions as host from the nt, who would it be?

* Šime and Dejan share a look and burst out laughing *

Šime, still laughing: no the thing-the thing is, the two of us commented on probably every famous person ever. Connected to sports or not. But if I had to choose-if I had to choose someone I think I'd laugh to tears with while interviewing it would be Goran Bare

*Dejan giggling in the background *

Šime: it would really be a show

Host: if he could hold a concentration during the whole interview

Šime: I mean it would be something casual, like this. And for the questions we would have...I reallly don't know

Šime, looking at Dejan: who would you choose?

Dejan: I don't know

*silence *

Šime: com'on brate, say someone

Dejan: hmmm. I don't know. No one is coming to mind right now

Host: and from the nt? If you had to choose one teammate?

Dejan: Brozović

Šime: well yes but-

Dejan: he is maybe number one for me right now. I just remembered

Host: and would he agree? To come to a show hosted by you?

Dejan: not only would he agree. He would have to agree

Šime, unconvincinly: mmm. Yeah

Host: Deki, did you get used to life in Russia?

Dejan: well yeah, yeah I did-

*Šime giggling *

Dejan: it's not how I expected. I expected to be able to survive the winter but it's really cold

*Šime bursting out laughing and coughing *

Dejan: I went out on the balcony one day and thought "my freezer is warmer than this "

Šime: so meat can be kept outside with drying clothes. If it's that cold. How cold it is?

Dejan: -30 C

Šime: wow. There we go then

Host: you didn't visit him yet?

Šime: no

Host: and you won't huh?

Šime: oh no *laughs * I said I didn't not that I won't

Host: Šime how did you face Luka after snatching the trophy from him?

Šime: normally. But I remember thinking-since he scored last minute to Villarreal and we won our game. If we ended with a draw and he scored a goal in last minute and won the championship-uff. I wouldn't be able to look at him

Dejan: he doesn't even have space for any more trophies anyway

Šime: him?

Dejan: yeah. Like com'on

Šime: but. Um- *looks at Dejan and forgets his sentence *

Dejan: dragi

Šime: hmm?

*Dejan laughs *

Šime: don't talk too much

Host: We had Budimir here yesterday and we talked about how he got into argument with Savic. He didn't want to tell us any details, but he said you'll surely tell us everything

Šime: he really pushed it all on me huh?

Someone off camera: that's not exactly how he said it!

Šime: I mean I don't want to judge because I am on good terms with both of them. I didn't get involved and I actually found someone else to argue with-

*Dejan laughs *

Šime: but I am really close with Ante while we are with the nt but Stefan is also my friend I talk to every day so. I wouldn't want to pick sides

Šime: I am glad Ante scored thought and that the club bought him so I congratulate him on it this way-oh he just entered

Host: Ante you came a little late. We just talked about you and Savic. Šime told us everything

Dejan: he insulted you to the fullest

Host: he told us everything, we heard a completely different story from you, just so you know

Budimir: will I need to give some sort of reply?

Host: it's too late for that, you had you lr chance and you didn't say anything

Šime: I wanted to say, there was tension during the whole game and it escalated jn the tunnel-

Host: oh Luka, you are a bit late too. We talked about you as well

Luka: I was here already before-

Host: I think he waited until you left to say something-

Budimir: I just wanted to say, he sent Grbic after me. The biggest one

*all laugh *

Šime: I didn't even see Grbic. I was too busy with some other things. Some my exhibitions

-Cards break-

Dejan: who has the best image?

Šime: ufff. Hmmm *thinks for about 30 seconds * Based on my taste? I guess Mateo? He knows how to dress well

Dejan: *laughs quietly *

*everyone from the background start laughing *

Host: you are not of the same opinion

Šime: well I said it's based on my taste

Dejan: next question

Šime: who has the best car?

Dejan: what should I say?

Šime: just say it's you, brate

Dejan: I mean Barišić has a good car

Host: Barisic huh?

Dejan: I wanted to say Luka but Luka is *makes dismissing gesture with his hand *

Luka: soon!

Šime: Luka will have it soon but tastes shouldn't be discussed. Besides whoever has the fastest doesn't mean he is the fastest

*everyone laughs *

Host: so who is the fastest?

Šime: well that I don't know. We should have some sort of competition

Dejan: who gets ready the fastest?

Šime: ufff. I don't know. I really don't know. I can tell you who gets there last but-

Host: who gets there last?

Dejan: captain

Host: Luka huh?

Dejan: well you know it's when you pass 30-31, you immediately pay a fine. So he comes exactly at 30

Šime: but at yesterday's lunch, you should have seen that show. It was 29 minutes and 45 second when suddely the door opens and everyone rushes in. There was pushing and running...chaos. but that's because we have some new regulations like no being late, no phones...but I think that's great

Host: who paid the most fines?

Dejan: ufff I can't quite remember. But I think Reba and Perisic

Host: now I'd like you both to tell me about your childhood, but perhaps something not football related

*Šime and Dejan burst out laughing *

Šime: there is still more of these dragi *giggles *

Dejan: are you fucking with me

Host: alright sorry guys, my bad. Continue

Šime: are you asking me or am I asking you?

Dejan: you ask me

Šime: no, I asked you last. You ask me

Dejan: alright. Who eats the healthiest?

Šime: I think Deki does

Dejan: Me??

Šime: yes. The way he makes and mixes those salad he eats...I am sick from only going to that part and looking at all the stuff you are supposed to put in them. But he does it so carefully and he clearly enjoys it. I mean we all eat healthy but he is like...yeah

Dejan: I mean I really do like salads. And I have this whole pressure-captain sits next to me and he says "make a double salad"

Šime, overlapping: well yeah, he uses him a little, so what-

Dejan: and it has to be perfect, salted to a gram, otherwise it's "what did you put in this?!" *sighs * it's fine

Šime: who cooks the best?

Dejan: cooks???

Both of them: no one

Host: alright so, your childhood. Šime, you can go first

Šime: my childhood? I don't know what to say, really. It was good, I grew up loved, surrounded by fun and playing games with my friends outside. I also thankfully have a younger brother and...I don't know. Most of my fondest memories are the ones spent playing outside, usually with the ball of course

Host: which neighborhood?

Šime: well we moved once so there were two addresses in Zadar, until I finished middle school. And then I went to Zagreb at 14

Host: what about you Dejan? I know you had a harder childhood, but I'd like to touch upon happy moments and not so much on bad ones

Dejan: what should I say? I don't know where to start. I mean I had a really nice childhood in Germany. My parents introduced me nicely to the real world pretty early on. I remember at that time I thought we had everything we needed but...in the background everything was burning. I think I only realize how bad the situation was when we got back to Croatia. But that's alright-it happened for a reason. And I think we can all be proud that we survive it. I am actually sad my brother didn't went through that with us. He was too small

Host: you spoiled him a bit huh?

Dejan: well no. He is 10 years younger. By the time I went to Lyon he was just starting to grow up. Maybe that's why I-because of what happened I developed quite a character. So I can proudly say we all went through that together and today that's something that doesn't have a price

Host: you went to Zagreb when you were only 14 right? Although I believe you said in one interview you really wanted to go

Šime: I wanted to go because it was a call I couldn't refuse. It was football and football is my biggest love. And it's something you just feel you need to do. And when you are that young you are just pulled by your goal, by the love for football. But when I came and when the process of growing up was suddenly sped up...only then did I realize the consequences of my decision. But at that time that was a challenge to which I would never admit defeat. So there was only victory left. And I did win that game of my life. Those kind of moments left a mark on you. As Deki said those things make you stronger and make some things later in life easier

Šime: but don't get me wrong! I am not saying it wasn't nice as well. I am talking her like it's something awful-

Host: was it too much of a change to you at first?

Šime: well no, it was great for me actually. I was supposed to go to Hajduk at that time and I went to two tournaments with them in Zagreb, we won that tournament, I won the best player award and they were demanding for me to come to Hajduk but they couldn't make a deal with Zadar and then the offer from Dinamo came and...there wasn't much thought on my part. It was really great. I was at dorm for the first 6 months. And...I don't have time now but one time when we have time I'll talk about the details and my experience with boys from both on and off the pitch. It was a time of self descovery for me so to say

Host: Deki, I have to ask you something. I have a friend that played with you in Inter and he said that you spend the whole night with them celebrating, but you only drank Cola and similar drinks. Never alcohol

Šime: impossible. I don't believe it

Host: that's what he told me

Šime, turning to Dejan: is it true? How old were you?

Dejan: 16 or 17 I think?

Šime: oh okay, then I believe it

Dejan: I mean I had this sort of mentality of looking at things ahead. It's not that I never got drunk. I got absolutely plastered and I walked on my knees-

*everyone laughs *

Dejan: -but I definitely had days I didn't drink despite hanging out with teammates because i didn't feel like it

Šime: *still laughing *

Host: He is dying of laughter. I don't understand why

Dejan: that's because he saw the time I was on my knees and ge remember that now-

Šime: *laughing louder *

Dejan: so now for him that's-

Šime: no it's *laughing do hard he is incomprehensible * it must have been some time before the game so you didn't drink *proceeds laughing *

Dejan: well yes, that's what I am telling you. The rest of them were getting wasted anyway

Šime: *laughs even louder * this was good, my god

Host: he has good tricks huh?

Šime: no I mean, I am not saying what he is saying is untrue I just *laughs *

Dejan, overlapping: he just saw the worst version-

Šime: I know how he gets when he-*laughing harder *

Dejan: -saw the full transformation-

*both laughing very hard *

Šime, wiping his eyes: oh my god.

Dejan: anyway, next question

Host: Šime that jump of yours after a ball during the game against Belgum...what happened?

Dejan: blackout

Šime: I mean yeah-I was so mad

Host: but jumping with both legs-

*Dejan laughing *

Šime: he is laughing but I am still mad. There were so many situations with Lukaku, he kept pushing the players with the whole "oh I am strong, oh I am fast" I mean he is but. Still. So when I saw him leading the ball I wanted to-I want to shorten his....

*everyone except Šime laughs *

Dejan: his legs

Šime: his way to towards the goal. And I failed and when i saw that in a duel I lost the ball-

* Dejan laughing again*

Šime: and I was tired and under stress so I had to get it all out somehow so i don't do something worse later

Dejan: I remember watching TV and I saw that, I looked at my brother and then back the TV and I said "he had some sort of blackout there"

Šime: I just did what I had to do. If it was concrete there, I would have threw myself at concrete at that moment

*Dejan absolutely losing it *

Šime: I am serious. I would have honestly threw myself at the concrete at that moment

Dejan: *slaps his arm, still laughing *

Šime: I realize it was a bit unexpected from the outside but I just had to do it so I don't endanger anyone else's health later

-Cards break-

Dejan: only two cards?

Host: no there are supposed to be three

Dejan: *looks around, no sign of third card *

Host: lost it on the way huh? It's fine, there can be two

Dejan: alright. Favorite book?

Šime: pfffff

Dejan: *laughs *

Šime: there is no favorite book

Dejan: *laughs harder *

Host: nothing huh?

Šime: no. I know there might be a phase in my life when I will read books, but for now...I just don't have a patience

Dejan: *continous laughter that increases everytime word 'book' is mentioned *

Šime: favorite song?

Dejan: uh. I can't really choose, it depends on a mood *thinks for a moment * but now...let's say from Oliver "Bez tebe"(without you)

Dejan: favorite city?

Šime: Zadar

Šime: now another question that won't be hard to answer. Favorite number?

Dejan: *shurgs * 6

Šime: you didn't really choose some hard questions

Host: if you had a choose one player from the nt who is really special? Personality wise as well-

Dejan: Broz

Šime, nodding: Definitely Brozović

Host: I keep hearing about him. Maybe people from the outside have the wrong idea about him-

Dejan: wrong idea? No, they have the right idea. Exactly the right idea. The guy is hilarious, but also an amazing player. I cannot believe someone can eat 2 kg of pate, 2 croissant and coca cola before a WC match and just. Run for 15 km. I just don't understand that. And then when you ask him how he says: "pateee" and makes hand gesture to the sky. I really don't understand him. I would need 4 days to recover from eating all that

Šime: yeah his mental state...I don't think there is much of a difference for him when he wakes up in the morning on a normal day or when he about to enter a pitch. But I think when you meet him you are surprised actually. He is actually quite quiet and nice and really smart, with a big heart

Host: and he is honest right?

Šime: yes. There is no doubting for him. He will tell you everything to your face and what you think about that-that's your problem. I think that's great

*about their lives and interviews from Russia*

Šime: one thing that I specifically remember from videos of our interviews are people trying to read our lips

Dejan: oh god *laughs *

Šime: I remember whispering to Dejan "look that guy is the same Strina

Dejan: the guy really looked identical

Šime: and someone wrote that I said "look at that woman with big boobs"

Dejan: *laughs harder *

Šime: I mean, how do you even read it so badly??

-Last card break-

Šime: which teammate would you let choose an outfit for your night out?

Dejan: Šime Vrsaljko

Dejan: which teammate would you choose...as a business partner

*they share a look and start laughing, the entire audience joining them

Šime: Well Dejan Lovren, of course

Šime, calming down: alright, alright next question. Which teammate would you choose to-*starts laughing * to-to babysit your child for a few hours?

*everyone burst out laughing *

Dejan: Šime Vrsaljko

Dejan: now, listen to this

Šime, already half laughing: yes?

Dejan: which teammafe would you choose to...change your tire

*both burst out laughing again *

Šime: *catching his breath but still laughing * what-I mean what should I say *laughing again, shrugging * oh fu-

Šime: which teammate would you choose for a gaming partner?

Dejan: *thinking * but you are always playing those video games. Call of duty and stuff. I have to pick Šime again

Šime: well I really sometimes do-

Dejan: sometimes?

Šime: often-and then I tried to get him to start playing-

Dejan: and I did, during lockdown. And he got me into Call of duty. And after 5 hours I say "I am going to bed" and my wife wakes me and she is like "dragi you are shaking "

Šime, laughing: he was shooting!

Dejan: it completely scrambled my brain. So I quit. Stupid video games

Dejan: alright now tell me...who would you choose as a partner in a fight?

Šime: ufff. Well him. I'd choose him for everything. It's a matter of trust. If we were to get into a fight together-

Host: you'd take a punch for him?

Šime: we'd-we'd make it a good fight. Guaranteed

Host: well guys, that's it. I hope you enjoyed-viewers certainly will. This will be viewed a lot I bet

Šime: it was good. Fun. Although I saw that in some podcasts they drink while answering-

Dejan: where did you see that?

Šime: in podcast. When Goran Bare was a guest they also gave him the-the-

Dejan: so I end up on my knees here? Don't be ridiculous-

Šime: -and we'd open the topics much easier that way

Host: I don't know what your coach would say to that-

Šime: -it's classic art. I am not saying we have to drink here just that I think it's cool

Dejan: *laughing *

Šime: maybe some people are a bit stiff so this would help them relax

Dejan: how do you think we'd be like? How relaxed?

Šime: from 1 to 100? 200

Host: well you gave us a good idea for maybe some future podcasts-

Šime: but I think that would need to happen when there are no football activities involved-

Dejan: I think the chair would be sitting on me and not me on a chair

*both laugh *

Šime: just prepare us two beds here so we can lie down after

Host, turning to the camera: Anyway, dear viewers, we'll stop here for today. I hope you all had fun today, and watch us tomorrow as well

#dejan lovren #sime vrsaljko #vatreni podcast #sejan #croatia nt

49 notes · View notes

rosethornewrites · 3 years

Text

Fic: a grain of millet drifting, ch. 1

Relationship: Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Original Characters, Nie Huaisang

Additional Tags: Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV Wei WuXian

Summary: Wei Wuxian wanders after parting from Lan Wangji, looking to understand the changes in the world since his death, seeking to understand his place in it. He doesn't realize he's being watched. Frankencanon, so this has a liberal mixture of CQL and MDZS.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link

-------------

Wei Wuxian hadn’t lied to Lan Zhan after their brief confrontation with Nie Huaisang in Cloud Recesses, not exactly.

Knowing why he’d been brought back, whether somehow his old friend had chosen him specifically for his own reasons, or if that had been entirely Mo Xuanyu’s call, wouldn’t change anything.

And part of him didn’t want confirmation of how much Nie Huaisang had meddled with along the way.

So much had been broken, so many people lost, and a part of him wanted to believe the façade that the indolent Nie Huaisang he had known during their days in the Cloud Recesses still existed.

But once he’d left Lan Zhan and set off on his travels with Little Apple, once he started getting used to being alive again, to having even the tiny wisp of a jindan, barely beyond zhuji, that Mo Xuanyu had gifted him, something he could build on, something other than the gaping hole that had ultimately consumed him, he’d had to face some truths.

He had no family, no home. He didn’t know if Jiang Cheng would ever want anything to do with him, and he wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. As much as he would always love Lotus Pier, he didn’t know that it had ever really been his home.

In some ways, his leaving had been inevitable. Despite being head disciple, he’d never been welcome. And the fall of Lotus Pier would forever be his fault, the ghosts of his own doing. He’d never regret protecting Mianmian and Lan Zhan, but he would always regret the massacre that had followed.

Even if he’d technically been absolved of the death of Jin Zixuan and the bloodbath of Nightless City and shijie’s death, his actions had still led to them.

Wei Wuxian spent long, sleepless nights under the stars and listening to Little Apple snore outrageously coming to the understanding that he’d left the Burial Mounds with his sanity shredded. The war and continued use of resentful energy without a jindan had only worsened it. He’d raised the dead, the ancestors of their enemy, defiling their bodies to win the war, and he’d earned a dark and deviant reputation in doing so.

After the war, he’d taken to drinking to dull it all, and doing so had destabilized his mind further. He was sensitive about his inability to cultivate, but couldn’t explain why. Surrounded by people who wanted him to do what he could not, he had spiraled.

Really, by the time he’d saved the Dafan Wen temporarily from their fate and gone back to attempt to live in the Burial Mounds, he’d been hanging by a thread. Wen Qing had bullied him into taking care of himself, for the most part, but he’d spent more days than he could count in the Demon Slaughtering Cave capable of little more than opening his eyes, what little energy he had dedicated to keeping the Seal under control.

He remembered very little past Jiang Yanli’s death and waking up in the Burial Mounds with the remnants of the Wen who knew death was coming. The seal wanted more, another Nightless City. And he’d known he could absolutely destroy the Jianghu—but that the Seal wanted it gave him enough pause that he knew he needed to destroy it and end it all.

He’d managed to find a way, but the Siege happened just as he was ready. What little sanity he had left went toward an attempt to hide A-Yuan—maybe the one good thing he had managed. And then, as the aunties and uncles and popo were massacred around him, he could only focus on destroying the seal.

Dying in the way that he had, ripped to shreds by corpses, had been agonizing, though the benefit of Jiang Cheng stabbing him had meant he’d died faster. He didn’t know if his shidi had meant it to be a kindness, but ultimately it had lessened his suffering before he died. It was likely a better death than anyone else would have given him.

But Jin Guangyao had been right: even before he’d absconded with the Wen remnants, his actions during the war, his temper and frayed sanity, his rages, his desecration of the dead… All of it had painted a target on him.

No, he’d painted it on himself with blood.

Wei Wuxian had come back in a body not tainted by the resentful energy that had burrowed its way into his bones before his death, despite it being his old one free of scars and birth marks, his sanity somehow restored, and was able to see his own self-destruction and how he had made that the only path he could walk through his own trauma-fueled hubris.

Maybe those years dead had done something to heal whatever damage he had inflicted on his own soul, as well. He remembered nothing of that time, and waking up in a body had been like opening his eyes after a long sleep. He’d known he’d been dead, had known time had passed, though not how much at first. Everything that had occurred leading to his death felt so immediate, particularly shijie’s death and the knowledge he’d left A-Yuan hiding but didn’t know if he’d survived.

The relief he felt that he had at least saved one person couldn’t be quantified.

Part of the journey was trying to find where he fit into the world now, but most of it was reflection and coming to terms with the reality that now existed.

He’d steered away from larger cities, opting to travel smaller roads to villages off the beaten path. Many, it seemed, had problems with restless spirits and the like—the occasional yao, even. He took care of what he could, and drafted letters to Lan Zhan when it was something that required more than he was currently capable of.

Perhaps that was something he’d learned—to rely on others and not try to fix everything himself. He could probably handle it all, but there were costs of using resentful energy too much, and in this life he didn’t particularly want to pay them.

So he communicated with the odd hungry ghost, used talismans to take down roaming fierce corpses, and handled the smaller yao that he could handle with the jindan he had, using these night hunts to help develop it further, hoping one day he could retrieve Suibian from Jiang Cheng and be able to wield the blade again—assuming his once-brother would let him have the sword.

Everything beyond, that would require more spiritual energy than he had or more resentful energy than he was comfortable using, he sent to Lan Zhan so the local cultivation sect could be alerted. He dared not send them a letter himself; people still had strong feelings about the return of the Yiling Patriarch, and it was just as likely he’d be blamed for the problem as anything.

The rural route he took left him able to travel in anonymity as a rogue cultivator, offering essentially any name but his own. Thanks to the ugly Yiling Patriarch talismans, the common folk didn’t know what he looked like. Most often, he went by Wei Yuandao, reminded of Mianmian’s happiness at seeing him when he did, that there were people in the world who didn’t hate or fear him. The villagers didn’t know him, were grateful for his help, whether in setting a spirit to rest or helping with odd jobs in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep by a hearth.

Much of the time, though, he slept beneath a blanket of stars.

One night like that, he heard the sounds of a scuffle and rushed to see what was going on. He expected to need to fight off a bandit, but instead he found a man in Nie colors running through a man dressed head to toe in black, face masked.

As he stood gaping, the Nie disciple bowed to him.

“Wei-gongzi.”

That confirmed a suspicion, and the logic of the situation ran through his mind at the speed of light. The courtesy, the Nie colors, what was clearly a would-be assassin’s body at his feet. Finally, Wei Wuxian sighed.

“How many assassins?”

The young man smiled.

“Five in as many weeks. You are as smart as Nie-zongzhu said.”

Wei Wuxian snorted at that.

“Not if I didn’t realize assassins were being sent after me. I’m guessing Nie-xiong knew they’d be hired and sent you to protect me in secret?”

He’d honestly thought he was being left alone by the cultivation world, especially since he wasn’t causing any trouble. How very naïve.

The man nodded curtly, then bent to rifle through the corpse’s clothing, looking for clues and stripping it of valuables, every bit a Nie.

“He wanted you to be able to travel without worry.”

Ah, Nie-xiong…

Perhaps Nie Huaisang was used to working from the shadows and had an agenda, or perhaps he truly just wanted Wei Wuxian to be undisturbed. Whatever his reasons for the secrecy, with this that ship had sailed.

But Wei Wuxian had no idea why Nie Huaisang would bother, not after he threatened him at the Cloud Recesses. Implied threat, but still—he’d expected that would burn a bridge. Not… this.

“I suppose I’m overdue for a visit to the Unclean Realm,” he said after thinking it over. “You may as well travel with me openly, unless Nie-xiong would prefer you watch over me in secret?”

Despite the protection he’d sent, Wei Wuxian didn’t know if he wanted the Nie clan officially associated with the Yiling Patriarch.

“Sect Leader was not specific about this eventuality. Traveling together openly may deter assassins, though it is easier to catch them off guard if they believe you unprotected.”

Ah, so Nie Huaisang didn’t care. Wei Wuxian waved off the concern. Now that he knew the threat, it was easily dealt with.

“I can set talisman traps around the campsite. Probably should have done that to begin with.”

But he’d been trying to have faith in the cultivation world, he didn’t say. Once again, misplaced faith and he should’ve known better.

“At least that way you can get real sleep as we travel to meet with Nie-zongzhu.”

They were a week of travel from the Unclean Realm, and he supposed he’d get answers to questions he hadn’t known he had then.

He headed back to his campsite, happy to see his Nie protector was following, and set a gourd of water near the fire to heat and pulled out some tea.

“In the meantime, we can talk about these assassins, eh? We’ll bury the body in the morning.”

It’d been over a decade since he’d last dug a grave, and it wasn’t to bury a body, but he was sure he could manage with the Nie’s help.

----------

Zhuji is the foundation building stage of cultivation, the stage before forming the jindan/golden core. Basically, Wei Wuxian is saying Mo Xuanyu was barely into the stage of forming a golden core, so it’s barely a wisp, but is still something that has the foundations built for him.

This fic was… unexpected. I wanted to write something for Nie Huaisang’s birthday, kind of a reconciliation between him and Wei Wuxian, and this happened. It will likely be no more than three chapters.

The title is a reference to a translation of a Su Shi poem, “First Ode on the Red Cliffs,” which was written after his first exile (he was exiled twice, both times for his poetry), while he wandered. There are several translations floating around, but I liked the wording of this one.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #wei wuxian #wei ying #nie huaisang #untamed fanfiction #untamed fanfic #untamed fic #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #cql fic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #my fanfiction

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Gold (Spideypool)(One)

A commission for @paranormalmoonlight5 and @pumpkin-spidey who wanted a reverse-ish Little Mermaid AU ft. Mer!Peter and Prince!Wade. I prefer my mer’s to be man eating and vicious, but I settled for sappy sweet, over the top dramatic, and soulmate-y this time around!

Applicable warnings: Wade almost drowns, there is mentions of eating people (honestly what do you expect from my mermaids?) and an attempt at nekkidness.

PART TWO

******************

Three months the Prince had been gone from his home.

It was a sea journey of ten days to visit a neighboring territory with the intent of striking an alliance and quieting the murmurs of unrest and war between the people. The negotiations had stretched weeks, fruitless and ultimately pointless, going round and round with the same arguments and senseless disagreements, neither side willing to budge but both demanding the other yield.

War had crept closer with every disjointed summit, despair had tinged the last of the conditions and pleas and when all was said and done, the Prince was returning home having failed to secure a truce, and needing to ready his men for the coming conflict.

King Thomas would not be pleased, but Wade didn’t care much about his father’s wishes. The younger Prince Francis should have been sent to find a truce, it was well known that Wade was a warrior not a politician, a fighter not a peace seeker, a Prince better suited to life outside the castle walls than one spent inside with finery and fawning dignitaries and the search for a husband or wife to sit beside him on the throne.

But the King’s wishes couldn’t be ignored, so for three months Wade had given up his swords and armor to sit through negotiations and wagers for peace. Three months of endless banal pleasantries and asinine small talk, suffering the attentions of ladies-and-men in waiting who vied for his attention, for his bed, for his desire. Put upon manners to impress strangers and politely but firmly worded rejections of whispered offers.

Insufferable, all of it.

Wade wanted nothing to do with court affairs that were laughter and kisses at dusk, then anger and drama at dawn. The Prince had no one waiting at home for him, nor a lover at one of the oft visited ports, and Wade considered himself lucky to be missing the trouble.

Though handsome, the Prince had never been one to take casual lovers, and though his blue eyes and blond hair brought to mind Adonis, he had never attempted to pursue a more permanent relationship. There was no one who caught Wade’s eye or stirred his lust, and after the desire and experimentation of youth, those urges had mostly fallen away all together.

Not for lack of want, but for lack of interest. If Wade could find someone that woke his heart, perhaps then desire would spark but until then he slept alone, went through his days alone, and in the quietest moments before dawn, when the world was still and there was nothing but the sound of the ocean beyond his windows, the Prince’s soul ached for something he couldn’t quite understand.

The weeks and months away had only amplified Wade’s misery, and the misery had turned to abject loneliness. The days stuffed into ridiculous clothing and forced to attend society events under the guise of courting favor with an ally. The hours spent doing nothing while men who would never understand war talked of soldier’s lives and the cost of ruined countryside. The letters from King Thomas demanding updates and encouraging specific action. The quiet sneers from those gathered who knew Wade was sent to do a job out of his depth, the mocking disdain from others who saw a soldier and not a Royal, a pretty face and empty, disinterested eyes.

And Wade was both empty and disinterested, which is why with three months gone and no peace achieved, he now stood at the railing of the ship Sister Margaret and stared up into a blackening, stormy sky and wondered if the gods would grant him reprieve enough to cause them to be lost.

Perhaps he and the sailors could wander to a distant shore, wind up somewhere different than where his life was headed. Wade’s soul ached with the need to run, to escape, to throw himself from the ship and strike out on his own because every shift in the wind that steered him home felt like the snap of a manacle tightening round his wrist.

The Prince stood at the railing and silently begged the skies to change the course of his fate, and as the night darkened and the moon hid behind roiling clouds, the skies listened.

The first of many winter storms chose tonight to unleash it’s fury, bearing down on the Sister Margaret with all the force of a hurricane, tearing the ships sails to tatters and battering the hull to and fro in ever rising waves. A crewman was lost over the edge as the Sister Margaret heaved dangerously in the surf, another taken with a scream when a main beam cracked and split and after a terrifying moment fell and swept the deck with it’s length before crashing into the sea.

Lightning cut jagged through the sky and thunder pitched low and furious, shaking the men to their very bones and rattling the teeth in their heads. Those whose fright outweighed their common sense ran below for dubious shelter from the sideways rains, those who had sailed through storms before tied themselves to the remaining masts with quick release knots in case the ship started to go under.

Wade held onto the railing until his knuckles were white, eyes wide as he searched the lightning lit seas for rocks, for land, for anything that could be their savior or something else that would be their certain doom. He’d prayed for a different course and wished for a change in the winds but he’d only meant for a respite from his responsibilities and the shackles of a royal life. Not this, not a storm, not the durability of his ship and the fate of his men held at the mercy of a furious sea, not death as an escape, not the horrors of drowning and the agony of being crushed by the depths.

No, the Prince had only wanted some time to find the answer to what was clawing at his soul, he had never wanted--

-- “Rocks of the starboard side! To port! To port! Brace yourself!”--

--the Sister Margaret shredded herself on the jagged peaks of jutting rocks, her sides splitting and the water roaring as it rushed to fill her hull. The screams of men huddled below were lost beneath the pitch of thunder, the scramble of footsteps as sailors ran for the other side of the ship rang dully in Wade’s ears as he watched the sails rend from the mast rings and fall to the deck as a death shroud.

The entire ship heaved, twisted and thrown by an errant wave and Wade’s grasp at the railing slipped and failed, his body tossed into the air as if it were no consequence, the surface of the sea like glass where it burned and bruised as he hit the water and then slid under and in just those few seconds, Wade’s wish for his fates to be altered was effectively, brutally, granted.

I don’t want to die.

The water was shockingly cold and inky black. Lightning cut across the sky and illuminated the Sister Margaret as her holds splintered and the ocean took her apart. It flashed in the eyes of desperate sailors as they swam for the rocks, for the shore, for anything that wasn’t death. The wind howled and muted Wade’s hoarse shout as his heavy coat dragged him under the surf and boots filled with frigid water, dragging him down and down and down.

The rocks meant they were close enough to shore to almost be home, to almost be safe, so close yet so far, near enough to be tempting, far enough to be damning and Wade was sinking.

I don’t want to die.

It wasn’t easy for him to admit to being afraid, not easy for a Prince and a soldier to admit to being scared but as the dark clouds spilt rain like ice and the sea stormed, Wade sank and he was frightened to his very core.

I don’t want to die.

His brain was screaming for oxygen, his lungs fighting the urge to breathe and Wade clawed towards the surface-- towards what he thought was the surface-- as another wave crashed over his head and sent him spinning, another piece of debris from the ship cut into his midsection and made him wheeze, another wash of water pummeled him and Wade tasted salt water on his tongue, down his throat, burning into his stomach and seizing up his airways.

I don’t want to die.

The water was glacial and the Prince’s body was leaden, sluggish as he drifted down, eyes blurred as he stared through the dark to find the last lights from the Sister Margaret as she staggered to stay upright but couldn’t stop from sliding under.

I’m going to die.

It was a moment of near delirium as Wade clung to the last shreds of self control to keep from breathing the briny wash, it was a jolt of sheer panic as the Prince found one last dreg of strength to kick up up, it was a blink of his spirit hovering between death and life and in that one eternal second, Wade thought he saw eyes looking back at him.

Eyes bright golden in the fathomless depths. A flash of sharp teeth behind dark red lips. A dust of glitter on bare skin and webbed fingers reaching reaching, claws scraping scraping and dragging him down.

And in the swirling currents before darkness rushed in and ended his life, the Prince swore he heard a song, haunting and sweet and hypnotic and his own soul soul shifted and yearned, burned bright and tried to answer--

--above the surface the last piece of the Sister Margaret slipped below the waves into the empty beneath--

--and the Prince saw nothing more, heard nothing more, became nothing more as the sea took him as its own.

************

“Wake up, sailor.” The voice was coaxing and melodic, the brush of fingers at Wade’s cheek somehow both feather soft and razor sharp all at the same time. “The afternoon sun will bake you dry and it would be such a pity to ruin your lovely skin.”

Music. Wade still tasted ocean at the back of his throat and clogging fear low in his stomach but all he could think about was music, a haunting melody swirling round his ears and settling in his heart and lighting behind his eyes like sunshine. Music.

“P--pretty--” the Prince croaked, lips chapped and tongue thick from dehydration, limbs unresponsive and eyes crusted shut from the ocean spray. “G-gold--”

“Yes, I’m very pretty.” Came a teasing answer. “And my eyes turn very gold, but you couldn’t possibly know that unless you open your eyes, so why don’t you wake up all the way and see me?”

“Open….” Wade was still lost, his body adrift as if he was still spinning in the waves, his lungs burning like he was still drowning but he sucked in a painful breath all the same, forced his mouth to open and pull in oxygen sweet oxygen to bring his too raw senses back to coherence one by one.

First there was pain-- scrapes and cuts stinging from salt water, a pattern of bruises no doubt blooming purple and blue along his back and side. Dimly, only dimly Wade remembered being thrown from the Sister Margaret and dropping into the stormy sea and the abrupt hit explained the way it hurt to breathe. He'd most likely broken a rib hitting the water so hard, or it might have been a bruised rib that cracked when a piece of the Sister Margaret had slammed into him in the melee.

Either way he hurt, Wade hurt from the bottom of his bootless feet clear to the migraine pounding behind his eyes and after the initial pain came a wash of panic, of fear. What had happened to his men? To the rest of the ship? What of King Thomas who was expecting him home, what of the failed negotiations and the potentially impending war? How far from home was he, and had anyone survived the ship sinking?

...had Wade survived the ship sinking? He heard music through his mind and yet everything hurt. Was this an illusion? A hallucination? Was the Prince wavering in some moment between living and death and this was something of a purgatory?

“I can almost hear you thinking.” Another touch at Wade's temple that was both infinitely soft and wholly dangerous, the fine edge of what felt like a claw down Wade's jawline and calloused fingertips at his cheek. “What is on your mind, my love?”

“...my—my--”

“I pulled you from the waves.” The voice was closer now, sunshine and warmth and music on the Prince's scattered thought process. “Most of your men survived clinging to the debris from the ship. Some succumbed to my sisters, others were left to the sharks, but I saved you.”

Wade tried and tried and tried to open his eyes, forced the lagging lids to part and blinked into a too bright sun as he tried to see who or what was at his side.

“If you were anyone else I would think about eating you.” Wade's savior giggled, and it was almost terrifying in it's beauty. “But you're far too good looking for that. It would be a shame to rid the world of someone so lovely because I wanted to bite you, and once I got closer and saw you, I couldn't do it.”

“B--Bite me?” Wade licked his lips and struggled to focus, his vision clearing enough to make out a hazy form leaning over him. “You-- you were going to bite me?”

“I was going to devour you.” the creature corrected with a smile that glinted fanged and sharp and almost fond. “But then I heard you, truly heard you, and I had to know you instead.”

“That’s-- that’s good.” Wade inhaled shakily, dragged the air in through salt burned lungs and grimaced when every molecule of oxygen stung. “That’s um-- I don’t want to be devoured.”

“Are you what they call a Prince Charming?” The creature tilted his head and tapped a delicate claw along with the rhythm of Wade's heart beat. “I’ve heard them talk about ones like you. Handsome. Brave. Trying to conquer the world and sailing your ships through the sea as if you own it. A ridiculous idea, you don’t own the waves anymore than you own the wind but you like to think it, don’t you?”

“You’ve heard who talk about it?” Wade leaned up onto his elbows, shifted sideways with a painful wheeze so the creature’s head was blocking out most of the sun and he could actually see. “What do you mean they call me a Prince Charming? Who are they?”

“The humans, of course.” they answered, and then, “Let me help your eyes, my love. Hold still.”

My love?

Wade only had enough time to wonder why the creature kept calling him my love before a cold palm with oddly webbed fingers covered his eyes. It was suddenly warm and suddenly bright and the Prince gasped and flinched away partly in surprise, partly in fear, but the creature only laughed soft again and used the hand at Wade's chest to hold him still with near unbelievable strength.

“Just a moment, just a moment, just a moment, I know this burns.” they whispered. “I know this burns but I'll be gentle afterwards, I promise. My mate, I promise I'll be gentle, just a moment...”

My love, my mate, gentle. The words were blurry in Wade's mind, blurry like his vision and sluggish like the way his fingers still felt numb and his limbs felt so heavy and the Prince thought maybe he could sleep-- maybe he could drown-- if it weren't for the music wrapping low and soothing through his psyche and reverberating against the pressure of the creature's hands on his body.

My love, my mate, gentle--

--and then Wade could see.

“Oh.” he gasped and jerked up right to sitting when his vision suddenly cleared, the headache gone and the ache in his core easing. “Oh fu—fu--what did you did you? What did you do?”

“I healed you.” Came the simple answer. “Some of us can heal, others only harm but all of us can help our mates if needed. You needed me, so I helped you.”

“You-- you helped me.” the Prince wiped at his mouth and shook his head until the last of the cobwebs cleared and he could see.

Wade could see and all he could see was otherworldly beauty-- sun bronzed skin and bare shoulders dusted with ethereal glitter, gold flecked eyes and hair tumbling in loose curls, temptingly pink lips and hooked fangs that glinted sunlight in a knowing smile. Claws and webbed fingers, strong arms and a distractingly defined abdomen that led to a narrow waist and lean hips and a-- a tail.

Mother of the gods, the creature had a tail.

“You’re a mermaid.” Wade croaked. “You’re a mermaid-- mer-- merman. Mer--”

“I’m a mer, yes.” The water by Wade’s leg splashed beneath it’s tail and the creature wrinkled his nose teasingly when Wade's jaw dropped. “Some of your people call us mermen, others call us sirens or water nymphs.”

A smile that was dangerous in its intent. “Those we eat call us monsters, but those cries and accusations never last long once the water turns bloody.”

“No I--” Wade gripped at the rocky sand beneath his fingers anxiously. “No, I suppose they don’t. You-- you don’t want to eat me though. I’m all muscle, no fat. I’d be tough and stringy.”

“All muscle?” the mer cocked a curious eyebrow then pressed those webbed fingers to feel along the Prince’s chest, down his abdomen and across the shifting muscles and down lower to drag a clawed finger along the dip at Wade’s hip bone. “Ah. I see. Mmmmmm.”

The noise was almost hypnotic, sort of a moan and nearly a purr and despite his fatigue and near death experience, every line in Wade’s body tightened, surged, and he heard the echo of music in his soul all over again.

“God.” His nervousness was forgotten as his heart rate skyrocketed, a surge of arousal as much a relief as it was foreign. When was the last time he had wanted anyone, and why did this creature stir him so? “God, I think I’d let you bite me just to hear you make that noise again.”

“Don’t tempt me.” The mer’s delighted laugh was like bells, like wind chimes and like the songs from the temples that echoed across the hills and it shook Wade to his core, made his next breath hitch like he was drunk as the mer inched closer, then closer again until their noses nearly met and the gold in it’s eyes gleamed. “I want to know you. Tell me your name, Prince Charming.”

“My name is Wade.” They were close now, Wade sitting up on his elbows and the mer still leaning over him, close enough that Wade could see the swirls of color in the mer's eyes and count the fan of his lashes. “Prince Royal Wade Wilson of the Eastern Kingdom. I am King Thomas's first born and Lieutenant General of his troops, venturer onto the sea and apparently--”

Wade looked down at his body, at his missing boots and torn pants, shredded, sodden shirt and his feet and calves still dangling in the water. “--apparently someone who washes up nearly naked on the shore.”

The mer laughed again, eyes lighting brilliantly happy at Wade's sense of humour and the Prince cleared his throat a few times before asking, “What's your name?”

“You couldn't pronounce it.” he shrugged half heartedly, one slim shoulder rising and falling with the motion. “But the closest to your language would be Peter, so you can call me Peter.”

“Peter.” Wade repeated, and the mer actually shuddered over it, tail twitching and fingers flexing at Wade's abdomen. “...Pete?”

“Yes.” Pete sighed and settled a little tighter to Wade's frame. “Mmmm, hearing my name on your mouth is lovely. Say it again.”

Again. Wade cleared his throat. “P—Pete. Why did you save me?”

“Because I heard your soul.” Peter smoothed his palm down Wade's chest again, pink tongue slipping distractingly over his teeth. “We heard the screams of your men so my sisters and I came to see what could be salvaged from the wreck, but when you hit the water the very currents changed their direction and brought your song to me. I had to find you.”

And then softer, the beautiful features shuttering and falling sad. “I didn't expect to find a human floating beneath the waves, but I had to save you anyway.”

“You heard my soul? My song?” the Prince couldn't stop staring at the glint of the sharp fangs behind the mer's lips. “What-- what does that mean?”

“Your heart song.” Peter said again. “Your soul cried out for me when the ocean took you, so I came to save you.”

The mer added softer, almost nervously, “You didn't hear mine when you fell? When the water came up over your ears, you didn't hear my song calling back to you?”

Wade thought back to the moments where he thought he was dying, how his boots had filled with water and his coat had dragged him down and then there'd been golden eyes and reaching fingers and--

--and music.

“The music in the storm.” he whispered. “That was you?”

“You heard it.” Peter smiled again, pleased and so beautiful it took Wade's breath away. “When I saw you were mortal, I was afraid you wouldn't hear the melody, but whether you did or not, I had to save you. I took your jacket and your boots so you wouldn't drown and brought you here where the wind is buffered by the rocks until you woke up. Safe.”

“You took care of me?”

“I just wanted to see you.” Peter touched Wade just lightly, pushed apart what was left of Wade's shirt and bared his skin to the late morning sky. “You were asleep for so long and I kept watch so the others wouldn't come and drag you back into the sea to tear you apart. I wanted to make sure you were safe and I thought I'd leave when you woke, but I—I couldn't.”

The mer seemed almost sad as he spread webbed fingers over Wade's navel and lowered his head to rest his forehead over Wade's heart. “I should go now. It must have been a fluke, a moment where your soul wasn't quite human and your heart song reached for me. A mer and a human cannot be together, so now that I know you're safe, I'll leave you be.”

Peter pushed away from Wade's body, pushed himself back into the water until he was submerged up to his chin, only his fingers hooked around Wade's ankle and holding fast.

“Go well, Prince Charming.” the mer whispered, then took a deep breath and opened his mouth to sing a siren song of forgetfulness--

– “Wait.” Wade lunged after Peter, scrambled towards the water and fell into up to his chest when his legs didn't want to quite work right. “Wait, Pete wait.”

“My love, don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” The water barely rippled when Peter moved, the mer so graceful even as he swam backwards that the sea surface remained glassy smooth. “This song will make you forget, and when you wake again you won't know me at all. You're safe and I should leave you--”

“What does it mean that I heard your song?!” Wade burst out, grabbing fruitlessly at the water, at Peter's form as the mer slid further away. “What does that mean? I can feel it right here.” he pushed at his own chest, at his heart. “Feel it in my soul, where I’ve never felt anything at all so what does it mean?”

Peter swallowed, gills on his neck flicking open once, twice, but he didn't answer and Wade persisted, “For years I've been searching for something to fill this gap right here in my soul. It’s like I’m empty but nothing fills it. I've never found love and I've never wanted to try searching for it. I wage war but not even the battle lust soothes me. I can't stay home alone with nothing and no one and no idea of what I'm looking for, it will drive me mad. Tell me what it means that I heard your heart song.”

Softer, almost pleading. “Tell me.”

The mer paused, waited and Wade reached his hands out desperately, wanting or needing or-- or something. “Please.”

And finally, “Put your hands on the water like this.” Peter took a deep breath and flattened his palms to the surface of the water. “Hold yourself still and wait for the music to come to you on the currents. We are soulmates, you and I. Hold yourself still and let the seas tell you the truth.”

Wade copied the mer’s movements, spreading his fingers wide and setting them just gently on the barely there waves, holding his breath and waiting--

Melody filling Wade's ears and echoing in his mind, magical and mystical and spiraling home home home, wrapping around his body and washing over his soul, filtering through his heart and echoing through his mind and Wade was running, running for Peter before he could stop himself, stumbling through the waves and almost going under when his feet slipped on the rocks and scraped along the coral as he ran for his soulmate.

“Don't leave me.” They met in a crash of lips, Peter's strength keeping them easily afloat when Wade fell into him, mouths meeting and breath gasping and hands holding tight lest the other one slip away. “Don't leave me.” Wade choked out. “God, I have to know you.”

“They say it's like this sometimes.” Peter scraped his nails down Wade's back and hooked his fingers into the Prince's hips to drag him in tight, beat his tail in the water to keep them steady so he could feel everything about his soulmate up against his body. “When a human soul slips between life and death, in that moment they are ours, our soulmate, but only in that moment. Never more. It isn't meant to be. You and I aren't meant to be and that's why I should have left you before now.”

Peter made a halfhearted attempt to move away, to extricate himself from Wade's grip though the mer was holding just as fast. “I should have left you before now, my love and I’m sorry I’m making this more difficult for you.”

“Don't go.” Wade was starving, dehydrated, aching and the only thing that soothed him was the taste of soulmate on his mer's lips. “No no no, don't go. Pete, you're who I've been searching for my entire life. Soulmate. Kiss me. Kiss me.”

“Just once more.” Peter whispered. “Just once more then I must go.”

The kiss was drugging, heart crushing and soul stirring. On and on it went as Wade drifted further into the currents and Peter kept him buoyant, the sea lapping higher around their shoulders until it was till their necks, higher still until it brushed their chins and mixed salt water into their kisses. Peter shifted against his body and purred soft and sweet, the noise so close to heaven that Wade had to jerk away to take in a deep breath--

--and then he was drowning.

Wade went under, lungs full of water and body dragging down, mind rushing from the kiss, from the knowledge of his soulmate, skin tingling as fresh cuts were re-submerged and hands reaching always reaching for the one that had finally called him home.

I could drown. The Prince thought as black spots danced before his eyes. I could drown and find a place beside my soulmate forever.

I could drown.

He was drowning.

“Oh my love, I'm so sorry!” Peter cried out in alarm when Wade slipped below the surface and sank. The mer angled his body and dove down into the murky water until he could get his arms around his mate and bring the Prince back to air, cradling Wade carefully so his claws wouldn’t pierce the fragile skin and driving them both back towards the safety of sand and rock so Wade could breathe.

“So sorry, my love.” Peter bent over Wade’s still form and pulled the water from the humans lungs with one quick breath, put his hand to the Prince’s stomach and coaxed the water out with one solid push. “I got carried away and you nearly drowned, so sorry. Please wake up. Please wake up.”

Wade woke with a cough, jerked back from unconsciousness with a strangled sort of gasp, reached for Peter before he was even aware he was moving, grasping for his soulmate even though only a few minutes ago he hadn’t known soulmates existed.

“Pete.”

“I’m so sorry.” The mer’s eyes were shifting electric gold and the deepest, richest brown with sorrow and worry. “Wade, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to let you go. I wanted to swim with you but I forgot-- I’m sorry--”

“No no don’t be sorry, just come back. Come back.” Wade surged up and wrapped his arms around Peter again, dragged the mer down on top of his body and kissed the cool lips until Peter was purring against his mouth and trilling in his ear, fangs catching on his bottom lip and claws dragging red lines in his skin.

It was like the sweetest aphrodisia kissing Peter, like the honeyed mead Wade had drank along the islands pouring down his throat, like the smoke of the poppy plant when it burned heavy and thick in the air of the secret places in the city.

Drugging.

Soulmates, and it was the answer to every question the Prince had ever had, every moment when he had felt out of place in the palace, trapped by his father's words and penned in by his duties, by his expectations, by the rules.

Soulmates and it was hard to care about which men might have survived the storm, about the Sister Margaret in pieces on the ocean floor, about whether he was dying from dehydration, or hovering on the cusp of some near death experience and tipping wildly towards unalive.

They were soulmates, and Wade would have taken dehydration and death over having to stop running eager hands over Peter's back and down to where flawless skin transformed into silk smooth scales. Peter's tail was gorgeous, layers of dark red shot through with royal blue webbing that went from his hips clear down to the nearly translucent tail that flipped against the water in a steady, meaningful pattern, beating a drummed in rhythm into Wade's heart that felt like-- felt like--

“My love.” Peter whispered, and there was a cut of fangs at Wade's earlobe before nimble fingers skated over the front of his trousers, working at the clasp and pushing them aside to track gently gently over the hard ridge of his cock.

“Oh.” Wade's head snapped back against the rocks but the mer caught him with a quiet laugh, cradled his head in one large palm and held him steady so he didn't hurt himself. “Oh-h-h Pete--”

Yes, that was what it felt like, what the constant shift and hit of Peter's red and blue tail sounded like, what the ripple of water and push push push and the way the mer's hips ground into Wade's side reminded him of. It felt like strokes and heated touches and purposefully slick slides against a willing, welcoming body and it felt like--

“Settle, soulmate.” Peter purred into his ear when Wade cursed and thrust up into the mer's palm. “Oh you're gorgeous, I knew you would be gorgeous.” He mouthed hungry kisses and near bites down Wade's throat, massaged firmer at his cock until it jerked and throbbed in his fingers, spilled milky white over his knuckles and made the next stroke easier. “I knew you would be perfect, so responsive for me, my Prince Charming.”

“Don't stop.” Wade had never wanted anyone so badly in his life, the Prince had maybe never wanted anyone in his life, not like this, not when it felt like his very center was trying to claw it's way out of his chest to mingle with his mer.

Not meant to be, Peter had whispered mournfully. I had to know you but we are not meant to be.

But no, Wade couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it. It wasn't possible to need to know someone the way he needed to know Peter and they weren't meant to be?

It wasn't possible.

“I want you.” he rasped and Peter's tongue wound tempting and knowing along his collarbone, down Wade's chest until fangs pricked over his nipple in a dangerous, tempting spark. “God, Pete I want you.”

Peter shuddered again hearing his name on his soulmate's tongue. They weren't meant to be and he should have left before now but the mer was weak, he was weak for every inch of his Prince Charming, he was weak for the press of Wade's hands at his back and the way sparks lit bright behind his eyes when calloused fingers teased the junction of skin and scales, he was weak for the way Wade practically growled as he shifted and widened his knees so Peter could lay closer between his thighs.

His Prince was achingly hard, pre-come leaking from the tip of his cock as Peter stroked him slowly, almost idly, no real rush to the motion because just having his soulmate in his hand was enough. After years and years of wandering the ocean currents listening for the heart song that called to his entire being, it was enough to lick the sweetness from Wade's mouth, to lay chest to chest and feel his Prince's every breath hitch as they moved together, to tighten his fingers around the swollen cock and swallow the moans that spilled from his mate's lips.

“I want you too.” he whispered back. They weren't meant to be but perhaps he could just have this, just this moment before the sun set and Wade's soul found it's way all the way back to living and Peter had to sing a siren's song to wash the human's memory clean of their time together.

“I want you too.” he repeated and Wade curled up into a sharp kiss full of tongue and longing. “Touch me, Prince Charming, touch me here.”

Peter took Wade’s hand and guided it down his stomach to the top of his tail, sucked in a quick, aching breath when his Prince’s fingers dipped into his navel before skating lower and the mer had to shift off to the side so he wouldn’t crush his love as Wade felt carefully, pointedly further along Peter’s scales until he came to the slight mound of the mer’s pouch, and then a scant inch lower, the scales that would shift aside and allow him entrance.

“Peter.” Wade breathed shakily when he found the almost invisible part in the mer’s tail, when his fingers were along scales one second and then next dipping into silky soft warmth. “P--Pete--”

“Yesssss.” the mer’s eyes went bright gold then very dark and heavy lidded as pleasure ran in a shiver up his spine, and Peter turned further onto his side to give Wade more room to feel him, balanced himself with his elbow in the sand and gripped rocks in his other hand so he wouldn’t cut his claws into the Prince’s side. “Yes my love, touch me.”

Wade bit back a hungry moan when his fingers closed around the mer’s cock, heavy and thick as he stroked and coaxed it free of the pouch, ridged and textured in ways that made his mouth water and his core clench, and Peter purred softly, wantonly when Wade’s own cock jerked in response to the sight.

“Closer.” The mer wriggled closer until they were side by side, face to face in the coarse sand, one of Wade’s legs thrown over his tail. “Closer, my love.”

Carefully at the Prince’s side, making sure to keep his claws away because too tight a squeeze, too startled or enjoyable a moment and the mer could kill his mate and Peter didn’t even want to take the chance, didn’t want to try and risk it.

“Like this.” Wade’s hand on his length was heaven, the steady stroke and curious play along the ridges and veins that marked his cock enough to make Peter’s eyes flicker in barely handled pleasure, and the mer whined brokenly at the loss of touch even as he coaxed his Prince’s touch lower still. “Right there, yes. Yes.”

Wade groaned out loud when he found the entrance just below Peter’s cock, slick and nearly hot as it allowed his fingers in and Peter gasped high and needy, rocked forward into the tentative press and drove Wade deeper inside.

Something shocked, blurted and breathless from the mer’s mouth, a language Wade could never hope to understand but rapture was the same across any tongue and he tasted it in their next kiss as Peter panted and sighed and nipped at Wade’s tongue as they tangled together.

“You’d have me?” Wade whispered in hoarse disbelief as his mate pressed closer, twitched his tail and lifted his hips up eagerly. “Pete, you would allow me to have you like this?”

“I’d allow you anything.” Fangs, drawing blood at Wade’s throat and the pain tore a shout from him, but there was nothing but blinding pleasure immediately after as the mer sealed his lips to the cut and drank the blood like he was starving. “My love, I’d allow you anything for the moments we have together, but you will have to have me like this.”

Oooph. Wade’s back hit the sand harder than he’d been expecting, Peter was far stronger than the lean muscles and gorgeous curve of his body would suggest, but the Prince only marveled at his mate’s strength, one hand buried inside Peter’s body and the other stroking over the glitter on Peter’s shoulders, down to the dip of his waist, back up to skip over the rows of his abdomen.

“You’re beautiful.” he managed as Peter lay over him, twisted his fingers inside the mer’s entrance and pulled a thready cry from gorgeous pink lips. “My love--”

Peter’s eyes melted molten gold in happiness and Wade said it again, crooned it, “My love---” and their lips met in the slowest kiss yet, lingering over bite-tender marks and licking through the others mouth, sharing breath, sharing air, sharing their souls as the mer reached with one hand to lift Wade’s fingers free of his body, then closed his palm around Wade’s cock.

“I’d allow you like this, my mate.” the mer whispered, and it was sheer insanity what they were doing. Pure madness for them to be kissing, to be moving together, for Peter to stroke his Prince to full hardness with a single pull and then with a slow roll of his hips, a flex of his tail and with claws scoring lines on the rocks as he fought for control, to take Wade clear into his body.

“My mate.” he shuddered when the Prince slipped into him, cried something wordless and needy when Wade held him tight and thrust up helplessly and Peter quieted Wade’s answering shout with a messy kiss, swallowed down the Prince’s gasped curse with a low purr, held his mate still until they both could breathe again.

“Peter.”

“Let me.” Peter tried not to growl, but it might have been a growl anyway with the way Wade cursed into his ear, cock jerking inside him hard enough to make the mer’s eyes roll back. “No no my love, let me.”

“Mate.” Wade caught Peter’s hips and held them tight when the mer shifted over him, scooted higher up over his chest and then dug into the sand and pushed back, engulfing Wade’s cock in pure rippling heat.

“Mate.” Braced on his elbows now, Peter could bend down and tease Wade with soft kisses and the dangerous hint of fangs. He could use the leverage to ease himself down and then pull himself back up, down and up, down and up, clenching tight every time their hips met and his Prince ground up into him, moaning every time they parted and Wade’s cock slid nearly entirely from his body before driving deep again.

“If you could swim with me, I’d take you to the depths.” Peter hissed when Wade’s teeth closed blunt over his pulse and pulled at him. “I'd show you how we are beneath the sea, I’d fit my cock into your most secret places--”

“Shit--” Wade jolted and Peter laughed in knowing delight, lost himself in a mind numbing kiss for a long moment, took Wade’s fingers and wound them around his cock to stroke in time to each slow roll of their bodies.

“--oh my love, I’d spend hours loving you.” he rasped, and Wade groaned something unintelligible and needy. “Over and over I’d spill in you until you were full of me and still begging for more, then I’d catch you tight--”

He shivered and moaned when the Prince’s hand tightened reflexively along his tip. “--yesss, do you feel that? All the ways my cock would fill you up and lock you tight to me? Then we could float in the currents for hours together. You’d be safe in my arms and I’d be safe in yours and we--”

The mer stuttered, grit his teeth and let his slick channel ripple around Wade’s cock as he grew closer to finishing. “--and we-- we could let the seas hear our heart songs until--”

“Pete.” Wade thrust up once, twice, threw his head back onto the beach and rocked against him desperately. “Pete please--”

“I know.” Peter slid himself down along his Prince until he was almost punishingly full, stretched and deliciously aching and he ground down into every helpless twitch and jerk of his mate’s body. “Oh my love, I know.”

“...want you…”

“...you have me…”

It was madness what they were doing, sheer insanity for a man and a mer to tangle this way. The Prince’s soul was caught in the space between living and dead, the mer was risking a life of eternal loneliness giving into the need when he should have just left, should have just waited for Wade’s soul to fully rejoin the living and then gone on his way without his heart song answered.

But it was too late. It was too late and it was madness but Peter couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

“Half a century I waited for you.” he murmured, and Wade turned his head to catch him up in an achingly tender kiss. “I’ll wait a half a century more for another chance.”

Music, warping the air and stirring the calm harbor waters into waves as Wade tipped and teetered at the edge of bliss. Music, thrumming in time to their hearts as Peter’s cock spilled onto Wade’s stomach and the Prince lost himself inside the mer’s body, pulsing and pouring and skittering searing pleasure through his veins.

Music, as they left a bloody sharp kiss and stared into each other eyes, a heart song as the sun began to sink behind them, a melody as Wade reached to wipe a tear that fell like a diamond from Peter’s golden eyes.

“....Pete?”

But the mer only shook his head and smiled, then tucked his chin into Wade’s shoulder and held him close as the fire between their body’s settled, soothed, and their souls melded one to another.

Music.

They were not meant to be.

****************

“You’re beautiful.” Wade propped himself up on an elbow and traced the gorgeous red lines that cut through the darker blue on Peter’s tail, clicking his fingernails on the scales and smiling in awe when the setting sun caught the blue and turned it nearly purple before darkening to practically black. “Red and blue, red and black. Gorgeous.”

“You humans think the oddest things are beautiful.” Peter stretched back on the sand and purred in contentment as the Prince ran gentle hands over him. “I was caught in a net when I was younger, the wires cut into my tail and left me scarred. I should be wholly blue and flawless but instead it looks like--”

“Like your tail is set through with rubies.” Wade interrupted, thinking about the priceless treasures he’d seen overseas, the intricately sewn tapestries, silk so fine it sparkled in the sunshine, jewelry that wove like nets and webs along a royals porcelain skin.

Not one of them compared to how lovely the delicate red lines were as they wound through the blue of Peter’s scales, and though Wade’s heart hurt to think of his mer hurt badly enough to be scarred, selfishly he loved the way Peter shivered and shuddered as he traced each and every one.

“Beautiful.” he said again and Peter purred at him again, bared those deceptively dangerous fangs in a pleased smile. “Why do your eyes turn gold?”

“Because you’re my soulmate.” Peter answered simply. “Our eyes only change for our mates. Gold when I am happy or content or when I am--” his dark gaze flickered gold as he lingered over the stretch of muscle on Wade’s reclined form. “--when I am aroused.”

“You are angelic.” Wade swore, and the mer countered with a soft laugh, “More along the lines of a water demon, but you may call me whichever you’d like.”

Peter sat up into a kiss, wove his clawed fingers into Wade’s hair and tugged lightly at the blond strands. “You are beautiful too, my love. Your eyes are the color of the ocean in the islands, where the water is bright and clear and we can see down to the sand on the sea floor.”

“Ah, is that why you came to find me in the wreckage of the ship?” Wade leaned into the touch, sighed and pressed closer when fangs pricked just lightly at his neck. “Because my eyes remind you of the ocean?”

“I would have found you in the wreckage no matter what color your eyes were.” Peter swore. “Today you look like the sun god fallen to the sand, if tomorrow you were to look like the god of the underworld or a creature of the deep, you’d be my soulmate all the same.”

“Then why do you seem sad?” Wade wanted to know, and Peter whispered, “Because our time is limited, my love. And somehow I already miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

I already miss you.

Later, the sky turned purple and blue above them, the winds cooling and water turning frigid, the sun setting in a fiery ball at the horizon, and Peter finally eased back from an endless kiss to brush his lips along Wade’s forehead and then his cheek.

“I have to go.” he whispered sadly. “The sun is setting and so is our song, it’s time for us to part ways.”

“No.” Wade shook his head, made a fruitless grab for his mer. “No, Pete. Don’t leave me.”

“I have to go now before it’s too late.” Peter slipped away from Wade’s grasp entirely, checking the sky above him as he scooted backwards into the water. “When the stars come out your soul will be fully back among the living, and humans and mers are not meant to love one another. We had a few moments together, which is more than some soulmates ever have. Sleep, my love and forget me.”

“I will never forget you!” Wade jerked up to sitting, pulled his feet from water that was turning colder by the second as the sun went down, and lunged after Peter. “Come back! Pete, wait--”

-- weariness hit the Prince like he’d ran into a physical wall, and mid reach, his arm fell back to his side, his legs giving out and keeping him firmly on the sand as the sun dropped another notch in the sky.

“What--” Wade struggled to even sit up all the way, his breath suddenly coming gasped and choppy, his eyes heavy and leaden. “What’s happening-- what’s happening--”

“Sleep and wake to fully living, Prince Charming.” Peter slid back into the water another few inches, biting at his lip until it bled beneath his fangs as he watched his love struggle just to stay coherent. “I’ll sing you a song to help you forget, and when you open your eyes again, you’ll be safe. I promise.”

“Will you--” sand fell through Wade’s grasp as he tried to keep himself upright on the beach. “Will you forget me?”

“The ocean forgets nothing.” the mer’s face twisted in heartbreak when his Prince’s head dropped back, otherworldly sleep calling him in deep. “I’ll remember every moment with you.”

“...seems… unfair…”

“Fate is rarely fair.” The last of the sun’s light was on them now, shadows from every direction, covering Wade’s feet and creeping up his legs to his torso, to his chest and just before the darkness reached his lovely face and the call back to living took him entirely, Peter blew his soulmate a kiss and murmured, “Goodbye, my Prince.”

A siren’s song rose low and haunting over the waves at dusk, coming to Wade on the wind and swirling through his mind like fog.

He was weary to his very bones, senses clouded with pain that had been absent for hours but suddenly throbbed through every muscle. Every breath was labored and with every one, a little more memory slipped from Wade’s consciousness as the music grew in volume and somehow in sadness.

Good-bye my love.

The waves lapped at the Prince’s feet, not quite close enough to touch, but close to lull him to sleep, his eyes closing and heartbeat syncing with the come and go of water on the rocks, the ebb and flow of the tide, the quiet rhythm to the melody that echoed in his heart something painful and heartbroken and lonely…

… by the time the stars came out, Wade couldn’t remember how the hell he’d made it from the wreckage of the Sister Margaret to dry land. He didn’t know why his shirt was torn off, why his pants were loose around his hips or why his body thrummed with the remnants of pleasure.

The Prince didn’t know why, and in the distance of the harbor a pair of dark eyes watched from afar as Wade looked around in wonder and confusion before giving into the pull of the music and falling back into the sand to sleep.

“Perhaps another lifetime.” Peter whispered as the last of his siren song faded away on the night wind. “Maybe then your soul will be mine, as mine is forever yours.”

Wade slept on the beach, and the seas barely rippled as the mer disappeared under the surface to ease his grief below the waves.

Perhaps another lifetime.

******************

Chapter Notes:

In some comics Wade has blue eyes and blond hair, so for reasons important to The Plot, I used this description for him vs my usual.

Obviously the Sister Margaret is the name of Weasel’s bar, and it also made a perfect ship name.

Uhh help I’ve never written mermaid sex before??

How much do we love demisexual Wade who never really saw the appeal of sex until he found the one he was meant to be with?

Recognize the golden eyes from MTW? Yeah, I will never let that trope die, it’s my canon now.

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

******************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @quietgayguy @nanita90a @justaniche @pumpkin-spidey

#ncts fics #spideypool #mermaid #peter parker #wade wilson #commission

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amwritingmeta · 3 years

Text

The Truth

This ficlet picks up in the last few moments of 15x18 and follows Dean through 15x19. It doesn’t really come with any warnings or age tags? It’s canon compliant. Everything hurts. Thanks for reading. (prefer AO3?)

You sit in a room with no windows in a home with no sunlight and you can’t fucking stop crying. Your brother is calling again, a buzzing noise against cement, vying for your attention and all you do is dig the heels of your palms into your eyelids. Keep it together. Reach out, and do so greedily, for your scattering sanity and pull it back together. Ignore the pain. Ignore it igniting your insides. Ignore its persistent flame licking slowly at the air in your lungs, sucking it right out of you. A stuttered sob. Bite it back, bite down hard against it. Stop. Fucking. Crying.

You hate yourself. Suffocating self-blame like something sticky and sweet in your throat. Your chest is imploding with the building fury. If you’d only not been so goddamn stubborn. If you’d only not been so hellbent on revenge. Who the fuck do you think you are? You didn’t expect to live through this so why the fuck did you bring him with you? You don’t think. No, that’s not even true because you chose. You wanted him there. You didn’t want to go alone. You accepted his company because it made you think… made you believe you had a chance. His presence strengthened you, like he always does.

Did.

Fuck.

Your eyes are aching. You stop pressing on them, open them instead, sight blurred, you give up, get up, get ready to walk out of the room with no windows into the home with no sunlight. Get ready to call your brother back. Tell him you’re alive, Cas isn’t. And you just stand there. Not ready. Not ready yet. Not quite yet. And your eyes are on the place where you stood a handful of minutes earlier, where words were said to you while this man you’ve known, and yet never really known completely, looked at you in ways that made your heart constrict and your skin goosebump and the memory is so fresh it makes you falter all over again, makes you feel something dangerously soften again, something that has always kept a tight fist around your every moment of hope, and you feel that wonder build itself back up, created with every new sentence telling you who you are.

How you’re seen.

By Cas.

But then he was taken from you. In the next breath taken away from you forever. He said it was forever. That’s what he said. That was the deal. Wasn’t it?

You clench your jaws and you look away. The fist tightens. You can’t linger. You’re ready because you have to be. The fight is far from over. You pick your phone up off the floor and you leave the room and you shut the door behind you.

You’re still crying.

So you don’t call Sam.

You get in your car and you let her tyres scream out into the lightening landscape and you follow roads you’ve driven a thousand times, roads you could drive with your eyes closed and a fifth of something strong and cajoling burning in your stomach, roads that are like black ribbons, like the wheels of Baby are grinding against a mourning band wrapped around the Earth, but you know there isn’t one, can’t be one, because everything remains just as it was less than half a day ago, for everyone except for you.

Everything remains just as it was less than an hour ago for you—except for him.

And you grip the steering wheel and you fight the tears and you think the fighting might be causing them so you leave them be, let them run down your face, run their course, run out. You knew. You always knew it would end like this. Could see it coming like the glare of headlights on a dark highway. Of course it would end bloody. Of course it would finish in death and destruction. Why wouldn’t it? Have you ever, for even one second, thought that it wouldn’t and actually believed it? Deep down trusted that there was another outcome waiting for any of you?

No.

How could you?

Everything you love, you lose. Unless you fight for it, tooth and nail. Unless you rage against the loss until it scurries off to its corner and leaves you with pieces to be put back together. And you’ve put them back together. More times than you can count at this point, only for them to be torn back apart. Again and again. That’s life? Is that what living is?

It’s your life. It’s all you’ve ever known. All you’ll ever know.

You don’t get further than Lebanon before you start noticing it: everything is standing still, nothing is what it was an hour ago, absolutely no one else remains. Abandoned cars gaping empty blocking your way, belongings dropped on sidewalks like their owners suddenly lost interest, vanished children from swings now played with only by a passing breeze and you can feel it. They’re gone. All of them.

I cared about the whole world because of you.

And you shut your eyes to it, just for a moment, just to regroup, rearrange your thoughts, pick and choose which ones are wanted right now and which ones need to wait, because there’s no alternative. The fact serves to numb you. You open your eyes and take in whatever this whole new world is that lies before you; letting steely conviction prop up the waver inside you, an underlining for how if you don’t focus you don’t fix it. So you focus.

First you need to get your ass to where Sam and Jack are. Your brother stopped calling a while back. There are a dozen texts. You text him back you’re on your way. Just can’t tell him over the phone. Can’t say the words over the phone. Don’t even know what the words are. Cas is gone. It’s your fault. It’s always your goddamn fault.

You refuse the tears this time, and open the doors back up to the anger, acidic in your chest and directed entirely at yourself as you step on the gas, eyes on the road ahead, one hand reaching for the stereo, the blaring music serving as an intervention, a blocker for the impressions crowding in your head, of the man you’ve known and yet never known completely. Until today.

You reach your brother and the kid and you tell them. The words are perfunctory. The truth, but not the whole truth. So help you. They don’t question. You see their grief and you can’t indulge, can’t join them in it. You fix it, that’s what you do. By giving up? Giving in. Same thing. The kid is disappointed, but the kid doesn’t get that all the cards have been played and there’s no more choices to make—save this one. Sacrifice like a red thread through your entire story and its time to pull on it. You die, Sam dies, willingly, unwillingly, however God wants it, but the world lives. Cas lives.

No dice.

God dismisses you, because what God wants is for you to stay in this moment of shame, of suffering, of loneliness. The ultimate punishment for disobeying, for refusing to heed him when heeding was offered, for staying defiant to the very last. And here it is then, the last. At last. And so you have your pick of bottles, and a second pick and third pick, pouring their contents down your throat, letting it drown the shame, flood the suffering, pool around the loneliness until you’re on the brink of forgetting the recent, because your mind swims in old memories, clinging to the good ones like they’re life rafts. Cas is right there, present in all of them. He would be. For all your years of denying it to yourself, you’ve known for a while that Cas is the one thing keeping you from drowning. Lending breath whenever you’ve felt like you were fighting for air. Grabbing hold whenever you’ve reached for something to hold onto.

Sam is your cornerstone, but Cas is the mortar between the better parts of you, because he’s never backed down from calling you out on your bullshit. He never used to. Never did. Before…

Fuck, you’re drunk.

It’s now, in the seconds between awake and sleeping, that you finally admit it fully to yourself that what you feel more than shame, more than loneliness, more than anything else is regret. What’s causing the suffering is the fact that, when this man you’ve loved for longer than you’re even sure of yourself told you that you’re the opposite of what you’ve always feared yourself to be, when he told you that he sees you as you are, understanding you in ways that you didn’t even realise yourself that you’ve always longed to be understood until he was standing there, understanding you, when this man confessed—professed—his love for you, all you could do was close up, and deny him.

The failure to act, to speak, to do something, anything other than all the wrong things is like a blade, precise, unyielding, refusing to be ignored.

You are so broken.

You’re not.

How long? How long did Cas know that he loved you? How long could you have gotten to love him back, if you hadn’t been such a fucking coward?

No answer.

You sleep. Deeply, dreamlessly.

You wake needing something to kill the pain and needing that something in copious amounts, but the kid distracts you with his antennae pricking: someone else is out there. So into the Impala you pile yourselves and you drive the roads you’ve driven a thousand times with that fifth of whatever sloshing around in your stomach and you find a too quiet stretch of mileage to make a pitstop, but your bladder has to wait when there’s movement and what seemed as lifeless as every other place surprises you with a dog. One dog. The final dog. The only dog on the planet.

What’re the odds of that?

And your chest is suddenly swelling with gratitude, because it’s a goddamn miracle, and you feel there’s good here, a sign that there’s still good, and it’s like Cas is there with you, in that moment, standing beside you, his presence filling you up, like a wind billowing out a slackened sail, and you can’t stop fucking smiling. Because you know it’s going to be okay, even as memories blister themselves through your mind with all the times you almost touched him but stopped yourself, you know it’ll be okay, because he’ll come back. He always comes back.

Then the dog is spirited away and Chuck gives you a smile and a wave and you want to kill him. But he’s gone and how the hell are you supposed to kill God anyway? You’re feeling like you could do it with your bare hands, but then you step through the doors of a church together with Sam and the kid and the someone else is there. An archangel. The one that’s stalked the edges of your story for as long as it’s been written. The one that opened a rift to Purgatory and allowed you reentry and a second chance to have a prayer spoken and answered and you feel yourself tense, because you owe him, but you don’t trust him: he reminds you too much of yourself. Even so, here’s a key for the lock you can’t seem to pick.

Of course, it doesn’t work.

And then your phone rings. And you stare at the name on the display and it doesn’t seem possible that Cas would have found a way back this quickly, but then there’s his voice on the line saying he’s here and he’s hurt and can you let him in and you’re on your feet in the blink of an eye, taking the stairs to the front door three at a time and feeling worry and concern, fear and anticipation mingle like something mildly intoxicating in your brain until you open the door and face the devil on the other side. There’s shock, bright and discombobulating, like hands grasping your shoulders and shaking you, hard. Already inside the bunker, too late to be stopped, the devil sneers and smirks at his impersonation getting you to let your guard down, as he knew it would. You control the disgust, but barely. You feel like spitting on the floor, something bitter on your tongue, but don’t. The devil is amused. You can’t fucking stand how this ruse means the last time you heard Cas’ voice it was thanks to this dick.

It’s not the last time.

But there’s a sinking feeling in your chest, and the thought that yes, it is, even though you refuse it. Thankfully, the devil and his brother in the same room is more pressing, especially with a freshly minted Death there to read the God book. Everything happens with a rapidity that makes even your head spin and ends with Lucfier dead by Michael’s hand, the God book proving an absolute dud, and the kid taking you and Sam aside for a word in private. Because he just got juiced up and he says, in that quiet way he has:

“I thought this new power meant I was dangerous. That I was bad. So I didn’t tell you. And I know that was wrong, but I didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.”

It’s alright, kid.

You’re how we fight God.

You’re how we win.

The plan is formulated through lowered voices as you stand with your brother and the kid at the very back of the library, the dimly lit antechamber housing the useless inter-dimensional geoscope acting as backdrop, and as the steps you need to take are worked out between the three of you, you feel how that fist within begins to loosen again, only this time it’s not because of anything other than your growing faith that this is it. This is how it really ends.

The clarity that comes with it should be startling, but isn’t. Because you’re beginning to see it. How it’s a tapestry. Your past. Woven into something traceable. The only life you’ve ever known, but here the weave is changing color, thanks to you, no one else. Your choices determine the weave, no one else’s. And now, working together with two of your closest, the knowledge that you’ll succeed this time is like a golden thread through all of it, finally catching the light so that you’ll notice it, acknowledge it. You’re stronger like this: together. You always were.

It’s Chuck’s weakness, because he can’t comprehend it. There’s no compromise in him. No loyalty, no selflessness, no love.

He can’t write your ending. He has no power here.

You asked what about all this is real—we are.

Cas was right. If only you’d heard him sooner. If only you’d really listened, instead of stacking bricks against him, walling yourself in with your fear and all the self-doubt that has always accompanied it. Warding yourself against the overwhelming lack of control in such utterly idiotic ways; idiotic because your control was never lesser, never hollowed out: you’ve always had a choice. And there was a golden thread, ever present, even inside each brick. All you have to do now is tug on it, and the walls will turn to sand.

You don’t hesitate.

Knowing you has changed me.

You tug.

Sunshine reflects off the waters of the lake as you pull up. It’s a pretty spot you’ve chosen. The plan is working like a charm. Every tooth of the trap you’ve set is snapping in place at its expected moment, every predicted choice by the opposing force has been made in response to your subtle manipulation of them. Both of them. Because Chuck takes the bait, and shows, and Michael dies at his Father’s hand, and the Father is rendered godless at the hands of his grandson, and the legacy of death and destruction stops here. You know it does.

Except the human on the ground thinks his ending is to be murdered by his own creation, thinks you’ll pull your gun and place a bullet between his brows, or reach down and strangle him, like you’ve had in your head for months, and you leave him behind with the knowledge that he’s been lying to himself, trying to keep you doing the same, but you’re done.

You’re ready for the truth, because the truth…

You’re the most selfless, caring human being I will ever know.

…the truth is a golden thread, catching the light.

#spn finale #spn 15x19 #spn ficlet #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #cas #castiel #deancas #destiel #jack #chuck #faith #love #hope #grieving!dean #everything still huuuuuurts

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stardancerluv · 3 years

Text

When Gotham Almost Won

Summary: You are Roman’s weakness.

Arthur’s Note: This is after Creative Fervor & Sugary Kisses and Broken Glasses, but is before Roman’s Luck is His Lady & Gotham Lockdown 2020

A glass went sailing past you. “Why don’t you fucking understand ?”

“No one fucking cares about me!” You hollered back.

He came around his desk. He grabbed you before you could draw a breath. His gloved hands wrapped around you, and he shook you. “Yes, they fucking do.”

You could not bite back, the sound the pain it pulled from you. He barely flinched. Roman was in the midst of one of his blind angry tirades. Sometimes, you couldn’t even get him out of them.

“Fucking listen.” He shook you again. “I am in a war to gain the upper hand for Gotham.” His breath was hot in your face, when he exhaled. “You are my only weakness.”

That echoed in your heart. The screaming hadn’t, him holding you as he was which would most likely leave bruises didn’t but those words did.

You wilted, you stopped fighting.

“If anyone fucking grabbed you it would be over.” He stopped, and finally noticed that you gave up. “Y/N?”

“Alright.” You finally said. Your voice was scratchy from screaming. “I believe you. I won’t let them get the upper hand.”

He sighed and smiled. “That’s my girl.” His hands released you. But he wrapped his arms around you. As he held you, you could feel how hard and fast his heart was beating. You weakly hugged him back.

******

You waited till you heard his breathing deepened and evened. Very carefully, you slipped out of the bed you shared with Roman.

Grabbing a small bag, you packed a silly tshirt he bought you at The Booby Trap. Across the front, in bright colors it exclaimed that you both survived, its famous roller coaster.

Next, with tears in your eyes, you grabbed Millie and Max the stuffed cows he had won for you. Those two days at the Booby Trap, it felt like you were just a normal couple in love. Not of one where you were dating the infamous Roman Sionis

It had just been you and him, no fancy suits, and no fake smiles. It was a special time for the two of you, away from all of it.

All the while in the back of his mind, you were his weakness. No wonder, he had laughed when you were scared in the haunted house. The real threat, you should have been scared of was the Joker or Scarecrow. Unlike the fake monsters in the haunted house, one of them could snatch you away and kill you.

You loved him enough to not be what could bring him down, after all he had worked for.

Quickly, you slipped warmer clothes over what you had worn to bed. With tears sliding down your cheeks you watched, as Roman grumbled something incoherently in his sleep before be grew silent once again and you zipped up your boots. Grabbing, your purse you then went over to his office.

Looking, through his stuff you found sheets of paper with his initials embossed in an elegant black script.

Roman

I love you.

But that is why I have left.

Your club, your life should not be brought down by me, your only weakness.

Don’t go looking for me.

Let me read in the papers how you made them pay and how you became the king of Gotham.

I love you, goodbye.

Y/N

Your hand shook writing this. It really hurt. You had not expected to love him ever this much. Damn, you never thought it would last more then a month. Eight months of being with Roman had been amazing.

His darkness and his surprising tenderness was all you had ever needed. He cared and loved you the way you wanted.

Grabbing another sheet of paper. You quickly scrawled the following.

Roman Sionis is becoming fucking unstoppable.

You all better watch out.

Sincerely the girl who once got to love him.

You put that note into his fax machine. You didn’t care if that would severe any future job prospects with any of them. You also made sure it was emailed to all the important people.

It would be for the best if they all knew you were over and who’s side you were on.

Instead of taking the elevator, you took the stairs. As the frigid air pulled hard on you. But you managed to hail a cab to your studio.

It was ice cold in your studio. You no longer kept anything important there, except supplies. You would have to make it your home again. Right now, this was seriously more painful then you ever imagined it would be.

Going, over to your sofa you practically collapsed onto it. You pulled down the knitted blanket. You got Millie the purple cow out of your bag.

Opening, the drawer of the end table by the sofa. You felt around. It was where you kept your melatonin, feeling the small jar you smiled.

Sometimes when you worked hard, your excitement over a new project it would steal sleep from you. So the melatonin helped! You took two tablets.

Now you wanted to sleep to forget. You wanted to not feel any pain. Maybe when you’d wake up, knowing you made the right decision, perhaps you then would not be in so much pain.

*******

Roman, rolled over and pulled you close; still half asleep. “I’m sorry I got so angry. Let’s stay in and forget the world baby.” He squeezed you. “Watch bad tv, maybe have a pizza made and not even chan...” His eyes snapped open. He pushed away the pillow, he had mistaken in his sleepy state as you.

Panic seized him, he took a breath. Maybe you were you up and working in your temporary studio or perhaps you were making breakfast.

Stretching, he ran his fingers through his hair. Wondering where you were he went in search of you.

You were nowhere. Hot anger and worry filled him. He had thought, you finally realized you couldn’t just run off. You needed Zsasz or someone with you. Or at the very least tell him.

Going, to his office he didn’t care how early it fucking was, he needed a drink. Never did he think, this would happen to him. He fucking, cared for you as much as he cared about himself. Well, if her were to be honest, he cared for you more.

He knew what he was capable of and he was fully aware what he’d do to maintain his control. You did not deserve to suffer anything because he was a cruel man.

He stopped, when he saw a bunch of faxes coming in fast. Some had had already fallen to the ground pushed aside from the faxes that came before it. The single sheet of paper in the middle of his desk made him curious. This was not how he had left his office.

A scream erupted from him before he even finished reading the fucking note. He crumpled it and ran back to the bedroom.

Once in the closet, he saw that you had taken Millie and Max, this was serious. He tore off his pajamas, and pulled on some clothes.

Opening, a drawer he took out his wallet, a set keys and one of his custom made hand guns, which he made sure was loaded. Eyeing the elevator, he decided to take the stairs. He took the stairs two at a time.

******

Leaving the parking garage, the sun momentarily blinded him. Blinking he watched the traffic and merging, he was off to get you back. He knew exactly where you’d go.

It did not take long for him to get over to where your studio was. He remembered that first time be went there with you.

There he had watched as you remained strong. You showed him the aftermath of what a former friend; a now serious competition had done. Your studio had been destroyed. You had not let it destroy you.

At that point, he had been incredibly sexually attracted to you. It was easy you were by far loviest girl he laid his eyes on.

Though watching you as you took in all the damage; especially to those prized scissors he thought you could be the one. Over the course of these eight months, you knew now that you were the one.

With every fiber of who he was, he wanted to protect you from all that he was. You were the reason why finally felt fear. He knew what he was capable of, so he was keenly aware what they could do to you. The idea caused bile rise in his mouth, he swallowed it down.

Cutting the engine, he got out of the car. He hoped that maybe you had left the door unlocked.

You had not. Good baby, he mused at least you had done that.

He remembered you had a spare key, luckily it was still there. He didn’t know what he was going to say when he saw you.

Once, inside he locked the door behind him. He walked over to your spiral staircase. He wrapped hands wrapping around the cool metal of the railing.

A soft sigh, came from behind him. He went over to the sofa, looking over he saw you there.

The blanket barely covered you, you held onto Millie and anguish was splashed across your face. Usually when you slept, he always had enjoyed seeing how peaceful you were. He hated seeing the pain.

He came around, and knelt beside the sofa. He watched you longer.

“Y/N,” He finally said your name. “Wake up we have to talk.”

You didn’t stir. “Y/N, baby wake up.”

You stirred.

“There you are.”

Blinking your eyes opened, as you saw him and turned away. “What are you doing here?” He heard you ask, despite being muffled by the sofa cushions.

Taking a breath, he reached and turned you to face him. You fought. “Listen, we have to talk.” He tried again.

Your eyes burned, when you finally relented and faced him. Your hair was a wild, he would have pulled you close for a kiss if it had been any other time.

“Y/N.” He still didn’t know what else to say, he honestly thought he had said it all yesterday.

“You made it clear, I am your weakness. So I left.” Your voice was clipped.

“You are.” He agreed. He saw the fire in your eyes flicker.

“So then let me go.” You swallowed.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, because I could ruin everything.”

“How would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Now look,” You had really ensnared him as he looked at you. He couldn’t imagine not having you at his side. “You are my weakness because I care about you. You don’t make me weak.”

Confusion crossed your face.

Finally, he was sure he understood. “Before you, there was nothing they could use to fight me. Blow up my club, my car? I can replace all of that.”

Swallowing, he had thought you knew that. He thought you knew how he felt. The words lingered on his tongue.

“Listen,” He inhaled then exhaled. “Fuck,” He barked. “If they did anything you, I wouldn’t want anyone else after you.”

“Roman!” You cried and launched yourself at him. Wrapping your arms around him, you held on tight. Your breath was warm as it tickled his throat as you exhaled. “Really?” You whispered.

“Yes, you silly girl. I want you by my side as I take over Gotham.” He chuckled and you held onto him tighter.

*****

Once outside, beside his car he pulled your woolen cap down further on your head. You smiled up at him as he did. “Let’s get you home where you belong.”

“I promise I won’t leave. And I’ll be careful when I do.”

“You better not.” Tilting your head up. He watched as the sun danced across your face. He pressed a kiss to your lips, as a gust of icy wind swirled around the two of you.

******

He had been eyeing that last piece of the pizza for awhile. You had not made a move for it and neither had he in case you also wanted it. From now on he’d have to tell the chef, equal pieces. This just wasn’t fair.

Leaning over holding your legs in his lap, he grabbed the remote. He paused the movie.

You looked over at him. “Should I grab us some ice cream?” Your eyes were playful.

He pointed. “But there is still a slice of pizza.”

“After that big bowl of popcorn and the pizza, I really have a hankering for ice cream.”

“You’ll get cold.” Whenever you ate it, you ended shivering even before you’d finish a bowl.

“You’ll just have to warm me up.”

Smirking, moving he easily came over to your side of the sofa. As he looked down at you, he brushed aside you hair that fell into your face. Damn, he loved looking at you. He pressed a kiss to your lips.

“What about the pizza?” You giggled, lightly.

“I think I found something tastier.”

He kissed you again this time as he did you easily deepened it. He smiled against your lips when he felt your fingers nestle in his hair.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @rentskenobi @starwarsslytherin @proffesionalclown @chogisss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @pooshnulooshnu @speedypartyducksuitcase @blondekel77 @corey-clown @drarrylov3r

#roman sionis #roman sionis angst #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis fluff #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #black mask angst #black mask imagine #black mask fluff #roman sionis x y/n #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x reader #bop #birds of prey fanfiction #When Gotham Almost Won #black mask x y/n #black mask x you #black mask x reader

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

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It’s Always Been You ||Demetri Volturi x Jane Volturi||

Warnings: Jane is aged up to 19 in this fic. Graphic descriptions of torture and violence.

Words: 3956

Summary: A request for @blonde-weasley

What if the one person you were looking for happened to be the one person who had always been beside you? What if you were meant to be with the one person you had sworn to never touch? When a mission goes horribly wrong, Demetri and Jane realise that just because they have forever, it doesn’t mean they should wait that long.

Some things in life simply weren’t meant to be.

Empires rose with ambitions bigger than their means - and fell just as easily. Whole cities were destroyed because nature saw them as a blight on her landscape. Some people ruthlessly took the lives of others to gain power and a feeling of control, only to be caught and made weak by the bars of a prison cell. Karma had a way of evening out the odds, resetting the balance in the world when it began to fall out of order. Karma was cruel, and her timing was truly awful. So awful in fact, she’d decided that today, on a frost-bitten battlefield in some godforsaken corner of Romania, was the day she ought to collect a debt from Jane.

Jane was no fool. Her life had been pain in every sense of the word. Ostracised, beaten and taunted, her childhood had been warped and tainted from the start, only for her adulthood to come to an abrupt and most excruciating end. She hadn’t regretted waking up as a vampire from the day it had happened, too full of anger and resentment and delighted she could finally fight back. No villager was left alive once left to the mercy of the twins, a secret they had kept for centuries. After all, how would it look to know the Volturi had let a couple of newborns wipe out a small, well-known village? No, the rumour had to be spread and (their people made to believe it true) that the Volturi had simply killed witnesses to exposure so as not to contravene the law. In her eternal life she had kept plenty of dark secrets, relished in the chance to torture others as she had been tortured. The fury that had burned her alive had been solidified by the venom and there wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t have to find some sort of outlet for it.

She had lived a cursed life since the moment she was born, and karma was finally reaping her debt from her. Jane hadn’t felt pain like it for centuries. It was sharp and white hot, bursting up her arm and down her spine like sparks straight off a welding iron. Her scream ripped through the air, turning the heads of a few of the guard on that damned battlefield. Alec and Jane were supposed to be undefeatable after all, it was what their name implied, what their gifts demanded.

“Sister!” Alec’s roar was almost drowned out by the deafening snarl of someone else, but she was too busy to try to recognise the sound. With only one arm she couldn’t defend herself against the man before her, his lips twisted into a vicious, sinister grin and red eyes focused on her. She hissed, hyper-focused on causing him as much agony as possible while she swung her arm around to fight off who she assumed was his mate. The blonde man sailed away from her and she returned her focus to his mate, the brunette man collapsing to his knees with a strangled gasp. His jaw split so wide in a scream that fissures opened along his skin. Jane felt the third rather than saw him, her stomach churning because she knew it was too late for her by now. Karma really was a bitch today. One arm lost in the fray, her focus on the man in front of her…she really had no chance to intercept the man coming in from the side. Her legs were roughly shoved from under her and she went down hard with a grunt of pain, the cracks in her knees ensuring she wouldn’t be getting up again any time soon. Her head was shoved into the frostbitten ground.

“Jane!” She knew that voice. Demetri. He was coming. She had to fight back, give him time…this couldn’t be how it ended, not here, not like this! With a snarl she began to thrash, but she was past her newborn year and but decades old in comparison to her aggressor, no match for his strength. Her cheek cracked against the ground, skin screeching as the rough edges rubbed together. She could feel her skull starting to cave as a knee pressed into her spine, cracking it down the centre and immobilising her completely. Her eyes flew wide open, panic setting in. She couldn’t see Demetri anywhere, he wasn’t in her line of sight. Was he even coming? Had she imagined it? Her skin was splitting, her skull would be next. A soft whimper escaped her, eyes closing so she wouldn’t have to see the face of her brother as he determinedly shot a sea of black in her direction. Alec would suffer her loss, but he had to live.

“Goodbye Alec.”

Karma really was a bitch.

The sound of her skin snapping and breaking under his hand was blistering, bouncing around inside his skull as he tried to wrestle the big lug of an idiot off of him. Demetri was blinded with fury, a deafening and monstrous snarl ripping continuously from his chest. The sea of black mist was honestly a godsend. His opponent went completely limp above him and Demetri shoved him off with a hard kick, letting someone else deal with him while he raced for Jane. The girl was awfully aloof for a 19-year-old and it had taken him a long time to see past the stony exterior to the real Jane beneath. The Jane that liked to read poetry and to paint, the Jane that liked to collect coins on every mission they went on because she had never seen wealth in her human days and was still revelling in what this new life had to offer her. The Jane that held her brother on such a high pedestal Demetri had been sure she would never see past the shining example that was Alec to love another man quite so deeply.

She was cringing into the frostbitten ground now, as weak as she had been the day she burned, and it infuriated him. Had Jane not suffered enough? She was always so headstrong and stubborn. She had been a fool to stray from her guard, perhaps a bit too proud, but weren’t they all the reasons he adored her? No, he didn’t adore her, that wasn’t allowed. Still…he took great satisfaction in tearing her opponent off of her. He had beaten Alec’s paralyzing vapour to the punch and had no trouble launching the man’s mate into the oncoming fog to take him out of the picture.

“Do not dare to numb him Alec! I want him to feel this!” he roared, snapping his hand off at the wrist. Alec’s mist obediently encircled them, ensuring neither could escape the fight ahead but both would have to endure it. Demetri could still see her out of the corner of his eye, missing an arm and part of her leg now, her face shattered like a porcelain doll who had been thrown to the ground. His fury burned bright and he gave his opponent no quarter. He deftly dodged at the hand swiping for his head, gripping it at the wrist to bring the man forward only to shove his hand against his collarbone, effectively ripping his arm from the socket. The brunette howled, eyes sparking with rage and pain, but Demetri didn’t back down, agilely twisting behind him to stomp on the back of his leg. His foot smashed right through the man’s calf and he collapsed sideways, Demetri falling to one knee with him so he could punch his fist clean through the back of his knee.

“Anghel!” he cried out for his mate and Demetri sent his fist sailing into his jaw.

“Cry all you like, he will join you soon enough in the depths of hell.” He promised, eyes wild. He could still see Jane in his mind’s eyes even if she was physically shrouded in mist, mercifully no longer aware of her own pain. He was determined to take revenge for her, to ensure she was safe. Jane deserved someone to fight for her and he would be damned if it wasn’t him. He caught the stump of a wrist aiming for his jaw, twisting until his forearm began to crack and the man beneath him bucked helplessly, screaming for mercy. Demetri didn’t stop twisting until the arm came off at the elbow, mercilessly tossing it into the fog surrounding them.

“You brute! You will burn in hell for this! Vladimir will send you there himself!” he howled. Demetri laughed, the sound mirthless and bitter.

“Stefan has already fled and your precious Vladimir will be not far behind. Their mates burn on the pyres their incompetence created, their army reduced to nothing more than kindling. I will have no mercy on such an intolerable waste of immortality.” He hissed, gripping the man’s thigh and pushing up ruthlessly until it snapped off at the pelvic bone. Piece by piece, he took his time tearing the other vampire apart, his mind a dizzying array of thoughts. The sounds of tearing metal were drowned out by the storm in his head, and by the time the last pieces of his enemy were aflame he was somewhat shocked at the level of his brutality. He had not made it quick, he had suffered. Felix stood just beyond the ring of mist that slowly receded, looking concerned for him with a healing crack along his cheek.

“Are you injured?” he asked. Demetri swallowed back the venom that had pooled in his mouth.

“Jane is-“

“I asked about you, not Jane. Alec is with her now.” Felix interrupted him, voice clam but firm. Demetri immediately turned his head, trying to find the petite blonde, but Felix gripped his chin and forced him to look at him. Felix was older than all of them by a considerable number of centuries, Demetri came next, the twins last, but ultimately they had all been under his tutelage at one time or another.

“She-“

“I asked, about, you.” Felix repeated slowly. Demetri took a breath he didn’t need, slowly nodding.

“I am uninjured.” He confirmed. Felix gave a brisk nod in reply and let him go, making no move to stop him this time as he scanned the battlefield for Jane’s fallen body. He prayed he wasn’t too late, that she might yet still heal, but she had taken a lot of damage. What was he supposed to do without her sharp, caustic wit driving him to insanity? Alec cradled her head in his lap, looking distraught and infuriated.

“Tell me he is dead, tell me he suffered.” He sounded suspiciously close to crying, if that was still possible. Demetri fell to his knees in front of them, eyes fixed on Jane’s shattered face. The cracks were healing over too slowly for him to take any comfort from the sight, her lost limbs still nowhere near her. He couldn’t quite fathom it; it didn’t compute right away that this limp and vulnerable girl was Jane. His Jane was strong and proud and stood tall, she was whole. Alec’s wild eyes were locked on his own, pure black with the need to feed.

“She needs her arm, why is she not – where are they?” Demetri looked around, trying to find a flash of near black that matched her cloak or the dainty fingers he had come to know through the gentle flipping of anthology pages. Alec gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, whispering quiet words of comfort. Demetri had a new mission, ignoring the Masters’ as they drifted across the battlefield towards them. Jane was coming home with them if it was the last thing he ever did, and she would come home in one piece. Fires blazed around him and he grew more agitated as time passed, more marble limbs flying past him and onto the pyres surrounding him. Had someone already burned her limbs by mistake? It couldn’t be. She’d kill him if he came back with the wrong ones for her he was sure. Besides, how was he supposed to feel knowing it wasn’t her hand that brushed his as they passed books between them in the library? It would be wrong, all wrong.

His frantic search was paused by a gnarled set of fingers gripping his shoulder. His head snapped up, and he met the tired, sympathetic eyes of Master Marcus. He said nothing, simply extended his hand and pointed a bony finger to the left. Demetri followed it with his eyes. A pale hand reached out from the depths of a near black cloak, and with relief saturating his soul he darted forward to snatch it up off of the ground. No more was said about that moment as he returned to Jane’s side, already lathering the wound with his venom in the hopes it might stick, that it wasn’t too late to save her. He used the shredded cloak to tie the two pieces together, Alec tucked the broken arm against his chest for added reinforcement with a grateful nod.

“Demetri, you will need to stay with the others to ensure this mess is cleaned up.” Master Aro informed him. Demetri growled.

“With respect Master I must stay with Jane, she is badly wounded-“

“Let the boy return, Aro.” Marcus rasped. Demetri gave him a grateful nod, relief flooding his system. He missed the way Marcus slipped his hand into Aro’s grasp, the way Aro’s eyes glanced between them with nothing but joy on his face. Demetri remained close to Alec as they carried her home, glaring off anyone who dared get too close to either twin. If Alec noticed he didn’t comment on it, nor did he say a word as they remained silent sentries at her bedside for the days to come. The only time either of them moved was if a human needed to be brought in to feed her, the pair taking it in turns to gently hold up her prone body while they fed her via a cup they drained their victim of choice into. By day 3, when she started swallowing on her own, his hope was returning full force that she might yet be okay.

“You have remained at her side. Why?” Alec’s question was blunt and out of the blue. Demetri frowned, truthfully afraid of what her twin might do if he knew the truth. He had had a lot of time to think, observe both Jane and himself. He knew the way his body reacted, the way his mind raced, he had quietly contemplated for days what it all might mean, looking for any solution other than the one he was faced with. He had waited since the day he had turned for this moment, watching Amun and Kebi first and then Aro and Caius with their wives…

“I cannot leave her.” Demetri settled on the simple answer, the one that might ensure Alec didn’t tear him limb from limb. He studied the younger twin carefully, noting Alec had yet to take his eyes off of his sister as he contemplated his answer. Demetri had quite honestly hated them both when they first arrived in the coven. Who were they to come in and replace high ranking guards he had called friend for the handful of years he’d been alive? Mere children really. 19 was no age to die, and yet…he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help that hers was the first tenor he looked for when he returned home for a mission, nor that she was the only person he could really bring himself to be around on the days he didn’t really feel like speaking to anyone. He couldn’t help the way she distracted him with the smallest things, like the way she tucked her hair behind her ear or that small smile she reserved for the flowers in the garden she had planted when she first arrived. All those little things had added up until one big, undeniable truth smacked him in the face.

He couldn’t live without her now.

Jane inadvertently saved him from Alec’s wrath with a deep inhale, her eyes fluttering before they popped open on a sharp exhale. Her expression was carefully blank, eyes fixed on the ceiling with such intensity it alarmed him. Alec almost sagged in relief.

“Sister…how do you feel?” he questioned. Jane was quiet for a long moment before she finally seemed to release the tension she’d been holding in, sagging into the mattress slightly and turning her head to look at him. Demetri ignored the slight twinge in his chest, knowing the way she reached for her brother was only natural. He pulled her upright with his hug, face buried in her hair, but his red eyes were fixed on the tracker and full of an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Strange. I was…paralysed, but I could hear you all. For a while I was burning again,” she sounded so traumatised, “Where is Demetri? He saved me, right? Is he okay?” Alec pulled away, glancing between them both.

“I should leave you two to talk.” His voice was blunt and he left without another word, leaving Jane to his care. The blonde faced him, eyes guarded and expression set in stone. It was almost as if she thought he might attack her.

“I am glad to see you awake.” He said, shattering the uncomfortable silence building between them. Jane gave him a terse nod, looking him over with her eyes as if she didn’t actually believe he had fought for her and was looking for imperfections now to prove her theory.

“I am glad to see you unharmed.” She answered. The uncomfortable stare off continued, Jane’s fingers twisting into the bedsheets beneath her. Her expression was unreadable and Demetri only grew more agitated as the time passed. Could she not feel what he felt? Her tenor was all but tugging him towards her, something in the air between them had become charged and palpable.

“Jane…” he found he didn’t quite have the words to explain or describe what had come over him since they’d last spoken. Jane didn’t seem to need to hear them though.

“You saved me. I…I was aware, of what you did for me, the vengeance you claimed for me,” Jane’s brows furrowed, “I cannot understand why.” Demetri swallowed, feeling his gut twist. Was this feeling one-sided perhaps? It could not be unrequited, no…no he couldn’t spend the rest of forever feeling like this when she was so close, but so out of reach.

“As I told Alec, I cannot leave your side,” He repeated, brain scrambling as he tried to think of some way to explain himself, “There are a great many things in this world I can do on my own, but they seem rather pointless without you.” Her fingers tightened in the sheets till he heard cotton tearing.

“This is a dangerous conversation, Demetri.” She warned him. Demetri’s lips twitched into a mirthless smile.

“If you want to talk dangerous, shall we discuss why you strayed from your guard on the battlefield?” he challenged. Her face fell into a spiteful glare.

“Maybe next time I shan’t bother helping you then, seeing as you were about to be frozen to the spot by that gifted vampire.” She sniffed. Demetri’s smile turned more genuine, her sarcasm feeling like all the proof he needed she would be just fine.

“I have a few ways I would thank you, but I fear you might cause me immeasurable agony if I tried.” He teased lightly. If Jane could blush he was sure she would have, instead she turned her nose up at him and scoffed slightly, but her eyes were alight with a mixture of fear and curiosity, almost like she wanted him to try. Demetri didn’t test his luck too much, but he did reach for her face with his hand, tenderly stroking her cheek. She leaned into his touch very slowly, staring at him from under her lashes.

“This feeling…it frightens me.” She confessed quietly. Demetri nodded in understanding.

“Me to, but I am tired of trying to deny it. Perhaps…perhaps we go slowly, try to figure out where we stand?” he suggested. Jane was quiet for a moment, pondering exactly what she wanted, and then she reached up to squeeze his wrist.

“Okay.” She whispered. He smiled, a kind of warmth spreading through him he had never experienced before. To have his mate accept him was an exhilarating experience. She didn’t push his hands away when he helped her up, and his hand remained on the small of her back as they walked together down the corridor towards the throne room. Alec awaited them near the bottom of the hallway, leaning against the stone. His stare was icy as they approached him but Demetri was feeling bold, and left his hand where it was.

“I see you haven’t killed him. How…disappointing.” Alec murmured, squinting at the tracker with a sneer. Jane frowned.

“She has time yet.” Demetri grinned. Alec only snarled quietly.

“Play nicely, boys.” She threatened. Alec’s head tilted and the twins seemingly had a silent conversation with nothing more than some exchanged glances before he gave Demetri a single nod.

“Do not make a mess of this Demetri.” The warning was very stark and Demetri could only nod in understanding. He supposed it just happened to be a consequence of being mated to one of the Witch Twins.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #demetri volturi #jane volturi #demetri x jane #volturi #request

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somuchcolour · 3 years

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WIP fic rec list

So I have a shit ton of important things to do so I was like, so what better time to make a WIP rec list of fics that are currently (hopefully) updating.

I know wips get a bad rap but I personally enjoy feeling like I’m in 1830s paris waiting for the next chapter of illusions perdues to drop. Also these authors are giving us sweet sweet entertainment and they deserve the hype. All stories deserve love no matter their completion status.

In no particular order:

A Brief History of Sex by Letzi

Never let it be said that Castiel Novak is not a passionate man. He doesn’t seem like he is at first glance, he’s willing to admit that. But what he does in life, everything that he does, in fact, in life, has been in the pursuit of passion.

He’s not sure how it landed him night after night sitting inside a cramped closet in a brothel’s bedroom, watching a prostitute get fucked from behind by one of her clients through a peephole, but that’s where he finds himself these days.

He has to make do with what he has.

ABO AU based on the TV Show Masters of Sex and the life and work of Virginia Johnson and William Masters, the pioneers of sex therapy.

A Priori by K_K_TiBal, whelvenwings

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are headed to Hogwarts.

Castiel, as a member of the old Novak wizarding family, is fully expected to be sorted into Ravenclaw, like all of his ancestors before him. Dean, as a Muggle-born, has no idea what the Houses even are. With a surprise sorting and classes starting soon afterwards, they're both pitched headfirst into the unknown - and they find themselves in competition with each other almost at once, both of them needing to prove themselves to the people they left at home, and the people with them at Hogwarts.

Over the course of their seven years at Hogwarts, Dean and Cas learn what it means to prove yourself, what it takes to discover who you are, what it feels like to fall in love, and what it is they'll fight for - what matters most of all.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion by ForeverShippingJohnlock

Castiel Novak is a zombie. Or rather, a "partially deceased syndrome sufferer." Treated and on medication, Castiel is deemed fit to return to living society. Whether society is ready to accept him or not is another matter entirely.

Dean Winchester is an active member of the Human Volunteer Force, a group determined to eliminate the undead. With his father as the leader of the HVF, Dean has spent years learning that PDS sufferers are scum, treated or not, and Dean wants nothing more than to make his dad proud.

Against all odds, the two boys form an unlikely friendship that makes Dean question everything he knows and believes, while Castiel thinks that maybe his second life isn't such a curse after all.

A story of love and loss, life and death, and everything in between.

Beyond Our Waking Eyes by abbythebollix

Dean Winchester is troubled, Sam Winchester is growing up and Castiel Milton is too fucking hot for his own good.

Cupid's Fiery Shaft by ChasingRabbits

When Gabriel Milton is forced into working on the school's annual Shakespeare play, he finds himself drawn to one person in particular--a techie named Sam Winchester.

While waiting on numerous universities to dictate the next major step in his life, Sam has been blowing off steam with his friend, lab partner, and (unknowingly) Gabriel's stepbrother, Castiel Novak.

Castiel Novak: a swimmer and one of the school's resident oddballs, who finds himself in a quandary upon meeting Sam's older brother, Dean.

Dean Winchester: gruff-voiced automechanic by day and culinary genius/MegaNerd by night, who might not be as heterosexual as he lets everybody believe.

If it sounds complicated, that's only because it is.

Now That's Comedy by CaptainMercy42

Comedy. It's what Winchester's did. Winchester's, and about a million other dumb fucks with an iPhone and 140 character witticisms about their first world problems. It was not supposed to bug him when no-talent "wordsmiths" got highlighted in a bit on Ellen or Bob and Tom. But it did.

His dad, well he was great at it. It was dark comedy. It came from a dark place; the loss of a wife and the life of a morally bankrupt single dad, almost innocent in how thoroughly unprepared he was for fatherhood. Substance abuse in itself provided jokes for days. The material actually outlasted his dear old dad. This surprised no one. What was surprising was Sam's decision to ditch college and do his own act, despite his lingering bitterness.

The first night Dean saw Sam perform was also the first night Dean saw Castiel perform.

Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by linoresearch

The year is 1722 and across the oceans merchant ships are hounded by pirates. Killing and stealing their way to infamy, the Winchesters plague the trade-routes to the New World, leaving a trail of death and devastation across the Spanish Main. They are villains, and every ship that sails under the colours of the Royal Navy has been tasked with bringing them to justice; sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.

When the lookout of the navy frigate, the Lady Mary, calls ship-ahoy from the crow’s nest, first-mate Lieutenant Castiel Novak has no idea how his life is about to change. In a swash-buckling adventure across the high-seas, Castiel faces sea-monsters, ghost-ships, and much more, in the race to secure a valuable and dangerous prize. Thrown in among the pirates aboard the Black Impala, he also learns that Captain Dean Winchester can be hard to resist.

Number 1 Crush by Duckyboos

Dean, Benny, Charlie, Garth, and Cas are old college buddies. In their thirties now, they meet up once a year to shed their adult responsibilities for a week. This year it's Garth's turn to choose where they go and he's still as obsessed with horror and weird shit as he was back in college. He ends up picking a supposedly deserted hotel in the friggin' mountains. The place is creepy as hell and as night falls, two things become increasingly apparent. One: the place isn’t as deserted as they first thought, and two: Dean’s college stalker is back from the dead.

Dial 'M' For Monster by Duckyboos

By day, Dean Winchester bakes cupcakes. He owns his own bakery (Stairway to Leaven) and people come from all over state to try his delicious vegan red velvet. By night, he’s a fighter of supernatural evil.

Castiel Novak owns the small town's only motel (The Resting Place). He has a problem; he thinks rooms 6 & 11 are haunted. It’s not like he can just look up a local ghost hunter in the phone book though, now is it?

Oh, he can? Sweet.

All The Other Places by Englandwouldfall

As is usually the way with this crap, nothing is that simple. Part 4 of Beach House

Shades of Mediocrity by Englandwouldfall

Dean needs to rearrange his life all over again, regroup, restart and work out what the hell to do next.Castiel needs to learn where to channel his heart break, among other things. Part 4 of Home

The Taming of the Dudes by Englandwouldfall

They've been doing this long enough and successfully enough that Dean kind of feels they shouldn't be arguing over something as serious as the mortgage. Part 5 of As you like it

Two and a Half Sheets to the Wind by Englandwouldfall

The whole point of working on a cruise ship was to escape everything, so the last thing he needs is to run into a guy who makes him a little too honest on the first day of a month long stint around Europe.

With Interest by everandanon

In which sought-after bad boy Castiel Novak agrees to make awkward, nerdy sophomore Dean Winchester fall in love with him for a bet, and quickly finds himself in over his head — but by the time he realizes his mistake, it’s too little, too late . . .

Fast-forward 11 years, and as guilty as Cas still feels, he has bigger problems to deal with. Grieving his twin brother and struggling to provide the care his niece deserves, Cas finally sucks it up and moves back home in an effort to hold things together.

Of course, it's only a matter of time before he runs into Dean - Dean, who's all grown up and even more beautiful than Cas always suspected he'd be. Dean, who says he wants to be friends, and is clearly much better at a game Cas hasn't played since he broke Dean's heart.

Dean, who might not be the forgive-and-forget type, after all . . .

Quarantension by everandanon

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.** *Really not platonic **Spoiler: They need a lot.

Fortress by imogenbynight

Five years ago, a malignant mass removed from John Winchester's temporal lobe left behind a quietly ticking bomb that nobody noticed until it decimated everything. Five years ago, John dragged Dean away from everything he'd ever known, hellbent on rescuing him from an imagined threat that felt more real to him than the blood on his hands. Five years ago, Castiel let Dean's hand slip through his fingers as he rescued Sam from what he'd thought was a more immediate threat.

For five years, Castiel has wondered if there was some way he could have saved Dean, too.

Now, with a phone call that he'd all but given up hoping for, Castiel has a chance to try again.

It's Kind of a Funny Story by deathsteel

After an aborted suicide attempt lands Castiel Shurley in the hospital, he meets Dean Winchester, a charming damaged young man who is much more than first meets the eye. Not being able to deal with the stress of growing up may have gotten him here and being hopelessly in love with his best friend's girlfriend probably didn't help, but Castiel soon learns that sometimes it takes going a little crazy to find the path you were always meant to be on.

Loosely based on the movie/book by Ned Vizzini 'It's Kind of a Funny Story'.

Just A Schoolboy Crush by Zombiecat

Castiel has a cliche crush on the highschool football all-star, Michael Ashton. Even though he's fully aware he's doomed to longing looks and pining in silence, it wouldn't be so bad if his best friend, Charlie, hadn't told Dean. Dean Winchester never seemed to miss a chance to get under his skin but for some reason he starts acting odd when he hears about Castiel's big secret.

God, Make Small by komodobits

The last plane into McMurdo before the six-month winter brings a new face, an astronomer on transfer from one of the inland observatories. Truthfully, Dean doesn't know shit about neutrino particles; he's just the guy who gets paid to move the equipment from A to B and tries to keep it from getting broken and/or frozen solid. Castiel Novak's awkward, endearing smile is an additional bonus. However, the relentless blue night is brewing coldly for a storm, and it's starting to look like Dean and Castiel might be the only ones left out on the ice.\

Legacies by vanishingact

Castiel Milton's uneventful life as a Massachusetts lawyer gets a little strange in the fall of 1887 when he is assigned to handle the late Henry Winchester's estate and his client's distractingly handsome grandson arrives to take up residence in the old manor house. As an unlikely friendship (with a side of pining) develops, the house slowly coughs up its secrets and reveals a whole world of trouble that Dean never knew his grandfather kept hidden.

The Game of God by seperis

You can't win a war for humanity by sacrificing all of your own. Part 4 of Down to Agincourt

Sequins and Spirals by euphemology

Dean Winchester is a world-renowned figure skater who hails from the “good old U.S. of A.” He is well on his way to the 2014 Winter Olympics, but there’s one small problem: so is his arch-rival, Polish skater Castiel Novak. Competition is definitely not going to be easy, but it gets even harder when the two men get assigned to the same room in the Olympic Village.

Show Me How To Love by universalromance

A new family of kids at Lawrence High School brings a new perspective to Dean's life, especially when he becomes inexplicably drawn to the youngest of the siblings, a severely autistic boy who has never spoken or touched anybody in his entire life. Rating will possibly go up later. Possibly upsetting psychological subject matter.

The Process by Soupernabturel

“Dean, hands to yourself please.”

The man in question straightens up in his chair, turns his flirty smile from the man two seats from him and onto officer Novak. “Sorry, Cas.”

“Cas?” Hannah asks.

“We get some regulars. They come to know a few of the officers, the patrol officers, especially.” Novak explains, the look on his face, almost slightly bored, slips a little. “As you know, I’m usually the one monitoring the Strip.”

Police!Officer Cas is being filmed at work (A-la: Jail Las Vegas) for a reality TV show. Meanwhile Dean is a sex worker, not only familiar with the Strip’s booking process, but with a certain blue-eyed officer.

Start With a Name by cumberbellins, frickenapplepie (cumberbellins)

Waking up in a stranger's living room with a blue eyed man staring down at you isn't the most pleasant experience ever. Dean Winchester can tell you that. Another thing Dean Winchester can tell you is that whenever you have to break into your brother's apartment, you should make sure that you got the right window.

starving in your gravity by alullabytoleaveby

Dean has enough on his plate. Really.

There's his job as a paramedic for the local hospital and, while he loves it, loves getting to help people, the hours are long and the pay leaves much to be desired. There's his definitely-not-a-relationship with Castiel, the hot ER doctor, where's he's completely out of his depth emotionally. And then there's his brother, who's just dropped out of law school and has no idea what he's going to do now.

So what he definitely does not need is his alcoholic deadbeat dad stumbling back into his life.

Make Damn Sure by SurlyCat

Dean Winchester is not thrilled about taking an office job at one the most powerful media corporations in the country. His work has always been hands on, but when Charlie tells him about the job opening and its comfortable salary, the temptation is just too great to turn down. And really, it wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the blue-eyed man that also works there.

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have crossed paths far too often over the last 12 years, with an unsavory outcome nearly every time. This time though, walking away is just not an option as they're forced to collaborate on a project and learn to navigate each other like civilized human beings. For Dean and Cas though, nothing ever goes quite according to plan.

...In Bed by SurlyCat

Dean Winchester and Castiel Milton met on a rainy summer day over a broken down car. Even though Castiel is nosy and seems to have no filter, Dean still finds himself drawn to the man. Over time they become friends, and over time, Dean falls for Cas, certain that Cas is uninterested. What Dean doesn't know is that his friend hasn't always been quite so tame, and Cas is careful to keep it that way. Who would've thought that a fortune cookie and a childish game would be responsible for bringing out the truth?

Tag, You're It! by Kitmistry

Five months after the case that almost claimed their lives, what started as blowing off some steam during a high-pressure situation and continued as a mutually-beneficial arrangement is getting out of Special Agent Castiel Novak’s control. Falling in love with his partner is doomed to end in disaster, especially when said partner is Special Agent Dean Winchester—cocky, infuriating, and the biggest playboy Castiel has ever met.

Still on medical leave, Dean is bored out of his mind, and worst of all - once Castiel gets sucked into the investigation of a new case - without enough distractions from his inner demons. When he stumbles upon a small, seemingly risk-free case, Dean jumps at the chance to get involved, but the lies he has to tell could be catastrophic for the already shaky foundations of his relationship with Castiel.

With a new threat trying to take over the underworld of DC, Castiel and Dean have to find a way to work past their problems or risk losing each other forever.

Part 2 of The H Files

The Supernatural Edification of Dean Winchester by OverlordoftheBees

Based on TV Series “Afterlife”. Professor Castiel Novak (MA Berkeley, PhD Harvard) is an academic who has staked his credibility upon his ability to decompress and deconstruct the mythology surrounding mediums, clairvoyants and all things "new age spiritualist". That is, until a routine trip with a graduate class brings him into contact with medium Dean Winchester: uniquely gifted, supremely abrasive and desperate for a way out. When Dean touches on the tragedy marring Castiel’s past, his neatly constructed worldview is decimated. There is only a veil between life and death, as both well know. And as Castiel finds himself increasingly drawn to Dean, the fragility of that barrier is strained to its limit.

These Are the Nights by vintagenoise

After a sudden tragedy, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester reflect back on their youth in the beachside town of Sileas, Oregon, and all the lessons they learned on the path that led them to each other.In the Winter of 2008, Castiel visits his boyfriend, Dean, for Christmas. Despite all the big issues he and Dean have dealt with in the past, they've never had the chance to sort through the little things. Castiel is sure that their plans, from embarking on a road trip together, to spending time with the Winchesters, can only be good for their relationship. There's just one little problem that needs to finally be confronted: sex, and Castiel's difficulty with it.In the Summer of 2009, Dean and Sam visit their estranged father and his new family, who reluctantly allow Castiel to visit through Independence Day. All Dean wants is for his family and his boyfriend to get along, but between John's struggle to accept his son's sexuality, and his wife Kate's strange attitude towards Castiel, he's not sure he'll be able to make it work. Part 7 of Young Volcanoes

#destiel #fic rec #spn fic recs #i haven't watched the show since season 9 #and didn't care about nor follow it until november 5 2020 #but i still regularly read fics #At some point I’m hoping to do more comprehensive lists #but this was the easiest cause of ao3's subscription page #fair warning I don't trust myself to keep this list up to date #the irony isn't lost on me

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lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr · 4 years

Text

Betrayal

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Fantasy, Pirate AU, magic, time travel, romance

Warnings: guns, OC gets shot, mentions of blood

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.5K

Synopsis: Jungkook and Aoi attempt to make peace with Akira but things don’t go quite how they’d planned

Masterlist

Jungkook trailed behind Aoi as they maneuvered their way through the undergrowth. His hand grasped tightly around the hilt of Aoi’s sword which she’d given to him only moments before. The air that day was stiff and hard to breath. It was uncomfortable, just as was the ground beneath his feet. He did not much care for being on land. On the water he was ruler of the seas. Sailors saw his ship’s flag in the distance and they would adjust course simply to avoid an altercation. On land he felt weak, exposed. The worst being the knowledge that he was helpless. No matter how this interaction played out, Jungkook would be rendered helpless without an ounce of magic.

Aoi walked with a steady stride, her head held high despite what she was willingly walking into. Jungkook wasn’t sure how she managed the strength to go through with it. Had their roles been reversed, Jungkook would have been on the seas, sailing as far from the problem as he could.

As they neared the clearing, Aoi released a slow, trembling breath revealing the nerves she’d kept hidden. Jungkook thought about grabbing her hand and running back for the shoreline but he knew better. It had been her decision and he would do as he promised. No matter what happened today, Jungkook would remain by her side.

Akira was there, awaiting them. Dark hair, which was usually kept neatly combed, blew about in the wind, adding to the illusion of madness. Aoi stepped forward bravely, greeting her father with a curt nod.

“You came.”

Aoi pulled her lips into a tight smile. “Did you believe I would not?”

“You must be either very brave, or very stupid.” Akira spat.

Jungkook bit his lip to keep the words from spilling off his tongue. His eyes fell down to the gun, tucked neatly in the man’s belt. He was meant to come unarmed. Jungkook cursed himself for leaving his own pistol back on the ship.

“I am neither.” Aoi’s voice carried no evidence of the fear she truly felt. “I have come simply to speak with my father.”

“So speak.”

Aoi hesitated a moment, lightly tracing her own fingers as she summoned the courage to say what she needed. “I know you do not approve of me or my choices, but I beg you to please find it in your heart to forgive me. For Mother’s sake, let us make amends.”

“Your mother is no longer among the living. I do not care what her feelings may have been. The truth still stands - you have chosen a life of crime and I can not simply excuse that.”

“So you would rather lose your family than see a pirate go free?” Aoi’s voice wavered only a moment. “I have done nothing besides care for the wellbeing of the men on the ship.”

“Those men do not deserve to be treated with such kindness. They are thieves and killers. They are dogs which must be cut down. The one who stands behind you now is the worst of them all. Or perhaps you have forgotten the tales I once told you. Was it not you who once told me it would be by your own hand this scoundrel would be brought to justice?”

“I was young and naive. I allowed your words to persuade me because I wanted to believe they were true. These men, they are my family. When you would have me given away to some heathen, they offered a place among them where I could live in peace. A place I would not have to worry every waking moment over whether I would be handed off to the next suitor who came along. These men have done nothing wrong and I am proud to call myself one of their own.”

Akira raised the pistol, his gaze firmly trained upon Aoi.

Jungkook fidgeted nervously, fighting the urge to step in front of her.

“You will not shoot.” Aoi held her head high, her words dripping with a confidence Jungkook was convinced she was faking. Her hand flexed at her side, searching for the security of her sword which hung limply in Jungkook’s grasp. She’d chosen this path, despite the consequences. Jungkook wasn’t sure he would have been strong enough to do the same.

“Do not test me, Child. You will do as you are told.” The old man’s words grated against Jungkook’s nerves. The way he spoke down on Aoi as if she were a lesser person. The only thing keeping him from striking the Commodore down was the promise he’d made to Aoi before they’d arrived.

“I am not a child. Do not pretend I am so naive. You hold no power over me.”

Jungkook’s fingers twitched as he gripped the hilt of her sword. He did not like the look in this man’s eyes. They were cold, hardened by years of hatred.

“You will come with me or suffer the consequences. There is no place for piracy in this land. Even if it is my own daughter.” Akira spat.

“I truly am sorry.” Aoi kept her head held high but Jungkook could hear the strain in her voice. “I can not return with you. My fate leads me down a different path.” Turning to Jungkook, she silently requested her sword back.

Jungkook obliged with a soft, encouraging smile. She was strong, he knew that better than anyone. Walking away now would mean creating a tear in her family which would not be so easily mended. He knew her heart ached at the very thought but her mind had been made up. She’d chosen a new family with Jungkook and the crew, who were waiting back at the docks to welcome her home with open arms.

A silence far louder than he had ever experienced before settled between them and Akira. Jungkook patiently waited for Aoi to make the first move. He would not leave until she was ready.

Waiting only a moment for a response which would never come, Aoi took the first step that would divide her from her family forever. Jungkook took her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. They were going to be alright. She had a family waiting for her who would love and care for her in a way her real family never did.

The shot of the pistol shattered the suffocating silence. Aoi cried out as she pitched forward. Jungkook’s arms shot out to catch her and she desperately grasped at his shirt. Terror shone through her dark eyes as each breath seemed to become more ragged than the last.

“What have you done?” Jungkook screamed, his own breathing as harsh as Aoi’s.

“I warned against her actions. There shall be no room for pirates in this land.” Despite his words, Akira’s eyes remained on Aoi’s body, as if somewhere deep beneath all the hate, he found himself struggling to accept his own actions.

“So you would shoot your own daughter?”

Blinking slowly, he raised his gaze to rest on Jungkook. The man’s eyes hardened, cut off from emotion once more. Without a word, he spun on his heels, tucking the gun back into his belt. Holding his chin high, he spoke over his shoulder, “She is no daughter of mine. I suggest you leave, Pirate. Or suffer the same fate.”Akira strode away then, never once looking back.

Jungkook lifted Aoi’s body with shaking arms. She’d always been so strong but in that moment, she felt so fragile - as if one wrong move might shatter her entirely. His feet stumbled down the overgrown path back the way they’d come. The old trading routes, long forgotten by the rest of the world, became the place marked by her last stand.

Silent tears cascaded down Aoi’s cheeks as she clung to Jungkook. Her fingers desperately gripped his shirt as if bringing him closer might somehow fix everything. “I do not wish to die.”

“Rest assured, my love. You will not die today.” Jungkook cursed his own lack of magic. Aoi was dying in his arms and there was nothing he could do to help.

“Jungkook!”

“Kook, where are you?”

The sound of his friend’s voices had Jungkook stumbling to a halt. Through gasps of air he called back, “Here- I’m here.”

Jimin pushed through the dense undergrowth, stumbling onto the path looking more than a bit disheveled. Sharp breaths left his lungs and his eyes were wide in fear. Yoongi wasn’t far behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin stumbled over his words, “I know you told us to wait by the ship but then we heard the gunshot and I knew Hoseok still had your gun which meant it couldn’t be you doing the shooting and-“ his eyes landed on the captain and the girl in his arms, “oh kraken.”

Yoongi stepped forward, taking in the sight for himself. “What happened?”

“Akira shot her.”

Yoongi cursed, turning toward the clearing. “I bet he just walked away as if nothing happened too. Someone really needs to go beat some feeling back into that man.”

“Why didn’t he shoot you?” Jimin asked, “no offense, but it doesn’t make sense.”

Jungkook’s face fell as he looked down and noticed Aoi had fallen into unconsciousness. “I wish he had.”

“Don’t start talking like that,” Yoongi scolded, “let’s get her down to the ship. Jimin and Jin fix her up. They’ve treated gun wounds before.”

Jimin shook his head. “Look at her. I doubt she’ll make it to the ship.”

“Then do something now,” Jungkook pleaded, “please, Jimin. Don’t let her die.”

Before Jimin had a chance to respond, Yoongi drew his sword. Turning in a slow, tight circle, he carefully searched the surrounding trees. “Show yourself.”

Jimin’s hand came to rest on the pistol at his side, “Yoongi?”

“Someone’s here. I’m sure of it.”

“You are a keen one, aren’t you?” An elderly woman, seemingly melting from the shadows, stepped out onto the path. “It is no wonder you have found a place among the famous pirate’s crew.”

Jungkook’s arms tightened around Aoi. The woman’s eyes drifted to him as if she could sense the tiny movements. An impish grin stretched her thin white lips.

“I mean you no harm. Gentlemen, do lower your weapons.”

Jimin’s fingers drummed against his belt, eager to draw his pistol. “Who are you?”

“I am but an old beggar who has wandered upon your presence.” Her eyes shone dark - black as night but far more dangerous.

“What is it you wish?” Yoongi took a deliberate step forward, placing himself between the woman and Jungkook.

The woman peered around Yoongi. Her mop of grey hair, which had been precariously tied up on top her head, fell down into her face. “The young lady does seem to be a bit ill. Might I ask what ails her?”

Jimin stood straight, stretching his spine to appear taller as he crossed his arms over his chest, “You may not.”

She turned to Jimin in annoyance, “Perhaps I could help. I am a sorceress. Healing is one of my specialties.”

Throughout his years, Jungkook had come to know of a powerful sorceress. One who was skilled in every known type of magic as well as a few which had never been heard of. Could this be that same sorceress?

Yoongi immediately shot her down with a firm shake of his head but Jungkook stepped around him. “You are the sorceress Rawena?”

“I have been called this along with many other names.”

“Is what they say about you true?”

“My abilities are far greater than you could ever hope to imagine.”

“You would be willing to heal her?”

The woman regarded Aoi, “A wound of this degree will not heal easily. It will require a price.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi warned.

Jungkook brushed him off. Perhaps he could strike a deal with the witch. If it meant returning Aoi to him, he would do anything. “I am willing to pay any price.”

Rawena clapped twice. “Excellent, then we are in agreement. Please, lay the girl down before me.”

Jungkook did as he was told but remained by her side. He was desperate for this woman’s help but that did not mean he trusted her.

Running her hands slowly across Aoi’s body, Rawena clicked her tongue in disappointment. “The girl’s life has all but left her body. If you wish to save her now, elaborate measures must be taken.”

“I don’t like this,” Yoongi said.

Jimin tapped on the handle of his gun, chewing his lower lip, “Maybe Yoongi is right. Let’s just get her back to the ship. Jin can heal her.”

Rawena laughed, “She will not survive long enough to see the ship again. Even if she were, how do you plan to heal a wound this great without a single magic wielder among your lot? I can save her, but it will require a price.”

“Name it,” Jungkook said before the others could interrupt, “I will do whatever it takes. Just please, save her.”

Thin lips stretched into a grin, revealing the crooked set of teeth behind them. “Then we have a deal. I will send the girl to a place where she will no longer suffer. A time set in a future none of you will ever see. It is there she shall be healed. When she is ready, she shall be returned to her own world.”

“And what is it you wish me to do?”

“There is a man who walks among your people yet he does not belong to this world. His gift allows him to move between the spaces of time and he has used this gift in a way that should never have been allowed. I want him stopped.”

“What is the name of this man you send me after?”

“Akira Tanaka.”

Jimin’s breath hitched, “Jungkook, isn’t that the man you and Aoi went to meet just now? The same man that-“ his words trailed off as Jungkook nodded solemnly.

“I had a feeling that man wasn’t who he said he was. I doubt he’s even Aoi’s true father.” Yoongi grumbled.

“That man is no father to anyone,” Rawena scoffed, “he is not even from this world. I do not know who this girl is, but that is a question for another time. For now, we must send her on her way.”

“Wait,” Jungkook reached over, latching onto Rawena’s wrist, “how will she return?”

“That is not of my concern.”

“I will not allow you to send her without assurance she will be safely returned.”

“Perhaps you should be there to ensure her return.”

“Captain?” Jimin’s voice was cautious as he stepped forward.

Rawena narrowed her eyes as she spoke a warning, “Choose carefully, young pirate. In this world or the next, our deal still stands. Akira shall follow you wherever you may find yourself. It is your duty to put a stop to him or the girl will find herself beyond anyone’s help for survival.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook’s eyes never left the sorceress, “you’re in charge until I return. Do not let my ship sink or I’ll skin you myself.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi’s tone held caution, a silent warning which Jungkook brushed off.

“Do what you must,” Jungkook held his head high, “I will return with her and together we shall put an end to Akira.”

Rawena’s grin returned, “Then I wish you both a safe journey.”

#In Another Life - AU #bangtanarmynet #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanscenery #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook fantasy au #jungkook fanfic #bts #bts au fanfic #bts au #bts fanfic #jungkook #jimin #yoongi

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candideangel · 3 years

Text

Setting Sail

more continuation from @invidia1988 ‘s AU from the previous night with mention of @maiden-born-in-snow‘s Shuri.

A bit more of the Crystalangel couple just finding a moment’s peace.

Curing a hangover had not been what one would consider fun, dehydrated to the point that the head ached and the body didn’t know if the temperature was up or down. That was the first day on the trip for the Warrior of Light and the once known Crystal Exarch; lying in the bed of the quarters, drinking water and tea periodically with no appetite to call for. Not to mention with the fact that the slow bobbing of the ship didn’t help the empty stomachs that both yearned for food while not wishing for it at the same time. G’raha probably had the worst of it, half keeled over a basin for someone who wasn’t quite so used to the sea and as the sailors had mentioned he would grow his “sea-legs” once everything eased up. They were a little better during the evening, but not quite up to snuff to feel the urge to leave their quarters, piecing on bread, cheese, and chamomile tea for dinner instead of anything large and filling.

By the day after though, G’raha had gone above deck when the sun had fully risen, inhaling the air that surrounded his senses, ears fluttering slightly at the moment of joy. The air smelled of salt, the sound of the boat breaking along the surface, the sight of the stretch of dark blue touching a lighter blue horizon lined with puffy white clouds. All his senses were on an overdrive, and right now his body that had been so wound with tension eased a little. The only change was that the clothes Tataru had worked to make him had been swapped out for a simple white shirt and black pants and boots. They were a bit loose, but then again the Miqo’te sailor that had offered them to him was at least a little bit taller and had the muscle stature to add on it. It was a kind gesture all things considered, but perhaps Angelique’s Warrior of Light status had caused some type of warranted attention or even favors...and while he didn’t want to be the partner that used a title to get things, this was his only exception.

“It’s good to see you got the color back to your cheeks.” Angelique’s voice once more caused his ears to perk upright and one of them to cock towards the direction. Her own adventuring attire had been swapped as well, but that was from another patron on the ship. A kindly and fashionable woman who had offered a soft fabric top that draped against her chest, in a deep shade of hunter green and a skirt that billowed gently in the breeze. “And that we’re not feeling like we’re about to die.” she teased and G’raha smiled when she came to join his side, staring to the horizon. Limsa Lominsa was no longer a speck of darkness in the distance...it was long gone.

“Same to you. I wouldn’t think the great Warrior of Light and Darkness, slayer of gods and then some, could be brought down by a hangover.” G’raha Tia shot her a smirk but she just gave a challenging one right back.

“Claims the light-weight who rarely had alcohol and I nearly had to drag you to the Roost!” She chuckled slightly, even G’raha began to laugh. For a moment it was as if the tensions were gone, and perhaps they were at least tucked away for the moment. For certain though he would go a little lighter on the spirits until he could grow a decent constitution for it.

“It’s refreshing to see the ocean...I didn’t spend much time admiring my surroundings. Especially once the light waned in Kholusia…” He trailed off, remembering waking and coughing up the sea water from the exhausting swim back to the rocky and shell covered beaches of Kholusia after the Tempest, but for a moment when he thought he was simply seeing the light...saw the one person haloed by that light and he couldn’t help but smile that day as the cheers filled the distant bridges. “...We didn’t get to spend much time outside of the borders of Lakeland in general.”

“Well...you couldn’t help that.” Angelique shrugged as if it were no big deal. It certainly made their evenings a bit...stale as he worried. The late nights ghosting away to the Tower to curl up in the Umbilicus next to the Crystal Exarch, wrapped up in a blanket and lights slightly dimmed in the room but enough for them to read together. Hiding away in a place they considered a sanctuary. It was those moments that they cherished, even if the bard was a woman of action...and needed to move to ease the restlessness, trips further out were near impossible if she didn’t want to haul a weakened old man back to the Crystarium to recover.

“Mm...do you miss it? Those quiet times, safe in our world?” He asked quietly during the sobering thoughts that had passed. “Do...you miss when I was the Crystal Exarch?”

“What’s there to miss, when I have you here and now, in my present?” Angelique would answer his inquiry with one of her own, turning to face him and lightly took hold of his hands, making him turn to face her. It was the present she did thank Kivera for, but the consequences...the ones who suffered for it...those were still the consequences they would be living with until forgiveness if at all would be found. G’raha had fallen silent then he let out a soft sigh before letting his forehead press up against hers, a small notion that followed with a small nuzzle. A sign of affection that Angelique returned; they were here to think, whilst at the same time letting everything clear up. Besides this time together was something that was long overdue. A plan to meet with two objectives.

With a soft kiss between the two, they stood by each other, leaning against the railing with idle conversation, just occupying time. Truth be told they had gone on this trip...they had gone half-cocked. They didn’t pack a change of attire outside the ones on their backs, no extra food rations in case they were out further away from civilization, but most of their time would be spent in Kugane, unless the urge to hunt called to the bard’s blood. Angelique had spent most of the previous evening splitting the gil between them so both herself and G’raha Tia could have some kind of spending money on this trip...and Angelique had half a mind to ask Feo Ul for a very, very miniscule favor, but she wasn’t going to bother the Fae King to gather their laundry. That would be rude and...she just didn’t know how ready she was to introduce them to the new G’raha.

“Oi! Storm’s brewin’ on the horizon!” A sailor called down to the patrons and G’raha and Angelique glanced over, they had taken to sitting down after their legs tired and Angelique was halfway to dozing off in the warmth of the sun against her skin. “Could have some nasty winds, for your safety we ask you head below decks for the time being. You don’t have to go to your quarters, but you can’t stay here.” He spoke before turning to head back to the bow as passengers were heading down below. G’raha would help Angelique to her feet and went with her with the others.

While they had idled in the main cabin for a time, Angelique had thanked the woman who had offered her the clothing, and strummed up some conversation for a while until the rain had started to be heard with the gale wind that caused the boat to rock harshly for a moment. The two mammets had occupied themselves in their quarters, following the rolling star ruby that had fallen out of Angelique’s travel bag.

“Oh, I forgot I brought that part with me…” Angelique muttered when G’raha shut the door and went over to the two mammets and reached over to pick it up as well as the two automaton on the floor. She looked at the ruby in her hand while the mammets climbed onto respective perches.

“...The music box that’s still broken back home…” G’raha muttered softly. “I...can’t apologize enough for that. My temper...I didn’t expect it to…”

“Raha, we’ve been over this, it’s okay. Something like that is easily repaired. Besides...I’ve been getting the urge to change the parts to play a new sound...and a new stone. So when we go back I’ll go to the Goldsmith in Ul’dah.” Angelique told him as she moved over to the bed and sat down as a loud clap of thunder could be heard outside but her fingers still idly rolled the gemstone between her fingers, brow furrowed in thought while the Miqo’te soon joined her. “...I want it to play Eternal Wind…” she spoke softly and G’raha looked surprised at the sudden proclamation.

“Eternal...Wind? You mean those old music sheets we found in the tower...so long ago…the ones I often played in my youth filled days…” He remembered at least...the times he did remember. They had found the old sheet music in the theater, and taken it with them to the camp, G’raha poured endlessly over the work until he could finally play it properly...and that was the first time he heard her sing after he translated it. One of those halcyon moments when he realized he was starting to find himself falling deeper in love. Angelique looked over to him and smiled sheepishly.

“It was one of the few things Rammbroes let me take from your tent. The set was so simple...that I practiced it...every night when I was stressed or not too tired to play a the flute or a harp string.”

“Heh,” he chuckled slightly and covered his eyes a little with a hand, covering the urge to sniffle, “...For so long we had loved one another, unable to express it...now..it feels almost like I’m walking in a daydream...and I don’t want to wake from it.” He could feel the tears sting his eyes but he wiped them away before gathering Angelique into his arms, mammets and all, and bury his face into the crook of her neck, his sanguine eyes staring at the star ruby that almost reflected the same color. For a beat he was silent then he asked a question as he pressed a soft kiss against the back of her neck, feeling the slight tremble under his hold.

“...Do you think they will come and try to find us? Now that Tataru can’t really tell them where we went aside from just sending mail by Moogle?” he asked softly to her, but the hyur only shrugged.

“We will just have to see. It wouldn’t surprise me if Estinien took chase at the behest of Shuri, but hopefully they’ll be understanding why we took off so suddenly instead of telling them. And hopefully they don’t harry the poor Moogle otherwise.” Her response came calmly enough, but she too wasn’t sure what everyone would be capable of if they were wanting to know terribly. For now though as she could feel the soft press of the Miqo’te’s lips on her soft skin and his tail find a way around her waist with only the sounds of the storm outside...she allowed herself to simply drift away. To forget. To find the calm they needed.

#ffxiv writings #AU #Kivera's AU #ffxiv #crystalangel #g'raha tia x angelique #g'raha tia #angelique #not much to say I just wanted some fluff and stuff after last night

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drawing079 · 4 years

Text

Exception On Line 129

Chapter 6: Ephialtes Interlude

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

A Human AU SCP-079 x SCP-682 Fanfic

Warnings: Violence, Alcoholism, Brain damage/trauma, Police brutality, Sexual content

Description: Zero is a reclusive computer science major, floating by in college with the help of vodka by his side. His only human interaction seems to be from his distant father, who abandoned him as a child but now is trying to make a bit of effort to be back in his life. And after a failed virus he sends to a Cray supercomputer gets exposed, he is forced to pay for the consequences of his cyber crimes in more ways than one.

During an unnecessarily violent arrest, he suffers a brain injury and anterograde amnesia, damaging his short-term memory. But during his time detained, he meets a violent man with an infamous short-temper, who takes a surprising interest in him.

(Read it here on Ao3 or continue below)

Exception On Line 129: Ephialtes Interlude

Most people know their body and sleep patterns well enough, that they can predict certain things. Maybe they know what will make them sleepwalk, or give them nightmares. Maybe they know how to wake themselves up from a bad dream, or fall asleep within minutes of deciding it’s time for bed.

Zero never understood people who were really in tune to their sleep like that. Although he was broadly categorized as an insomniac, he learned that he could sometimes invite sleep sooner with a few shots of vodka. Or, it would keep him up later by encouraging him to have another round, but it wasn’t consistent which way the night would swing when he went to pour one out. However, if there was one thing Zero could guarantee about his sleep, it was that he got wet dreams when he was stressed.

Embarrassing, but true. Maybe it was his subconscious way of coping with stress. Makes sense why when he has a bad day nothing takes the edge off more than a night of drinks and going home with a stranger.

But, somehow, tonight’s dream was way more vivid than the usual.

The first part of the dream that really started being memorable was Numin pushing him aggressively up against a wall.

The room was dim and cold, and so was the wall behind him, but Zero’s lips were locked with Numin’s, and their bodies pressed up against each other provided a sweltering heat that kept him warm.

The place was familiar, and the second Zero spared a thought about it he realized they were in his apartment. Or maybe their apartment? It felt like they lived together in this dream.

Broad, strong hands slid over his slender waist, teasing him as they stopped at his hip bones, and with a yearning whine Zero pressed his pelvis forward to invite those wandering hands behind him. With a dark chuckle, Numin pulled his tongue out of Zero’s mouth for a split moment, so he could watch his face as he aggressively grabbed his ass with both hands.

With a delight groan, Zero arched back into his grip, throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to ravish the feeling.

The hands underneath kept a firm cup under his bottom, and in a sudden motion Zero felt himself hoisted up, which he greeted with a short gasp of pleasant surprise. Almost naturally, his legs came up to wrap around Numin’s waist, steadying himself by a needy grasp encircling the larger man’s neck for support. Upon looking up, he saw some of the glint of light barely filtering into the room hit the bright canines of Numin’s devious smirk.

Something about the way his teeth glistened threateningly felt as if Zero couldn’t tell if Numin was going to kiss into his neck or rip out his jugular between his incisors.

And before he could predict which one it would be, the beast rushed forward to devour his prey, and Zero couldn’t help the little noises escaping his throat as he felt those dangerous teeth leave a certainly inhibited bite on the skin between his neck and shoulder.

The idea of wearing a scarf of delicious bruises and hickeys from Numin’s mouth made his hip buck forward, grinding down on the man he was wrapped around. Almost as a reward, he felt himself rub over something firm and prominent, albeit muted from the barriers of fabric between them.

Eager to make his own excitement be known as well, Zero gave a rolling arch of his back, allowing his own erection to rub up against Numin‘s. And almost as if rewarding him, Numin gave a fervent suck of the stolen flesh between his teeth, not ceding until it tinged with a reddish hue. The tangible formation of that hickey made Zero whine needily under his mouth, only encouraging Numin’s ego.

Upon drawing back to admire his own work, he saw Zero’s mouth agape in carnal delight, and pale face flushed into a rouge hue. Heaving, still enraptured by the fresh bruises blessing his neck, Zero licked his bottom lip at him, carefully pushing the ring around it suggestively.

Entertaining him, the larger man tightened his grip around Zero, before pulling his hips down against his own to grind up into them. It earned a desperate cry from the smaller man, but he was in the mood to hear more from him than just incomprehensible noises.

“Say my name.” He commanded, voice husky and laced with an obvious note of his own enrapturement. The way that voice commanded the air sent a wave of goosebumps sailing over Zero’s skin, intoxicated by his deep and velvety tones.

Eager to comply, Zero’s mouth opened on a moan, ready to put his name on his lips-- until, he realized, he didn’t know his name.

A sudden embarrassed panic dropped in his chest, and he hoped it was too dark for the man to make out the obvious perturbation in his face. How could he forget the name of a man like this?

“Zero. My name, say my name.” The voice commanded again, although less commanding and more… monotone, this time. Like the texture of his vocal cords was getting lost in Zero’s fragmented memory.

“I-I don’t know, it doesn’t matter…” huffing, feeling the spike of adrenaline in his blood, he tried to wave it off and continue on with the more sexy details.

Until those details weren’t there anymore. The hands on him stopped feeling hot, or even warm. It was getting too dark to even distinguish anything but a silhouette of the man before him.

What happened to the details?

“What’s my name? What’s my name, Zero?” This time the voice wasn’t just monotone, it was borderline inhuman. Like a bird spitting out sounds that it didn’t understand, mimicking words in pseudo-speech that treaded into the uncanny valley.

Regretting his position against the wall, Zero had no room to distance himself and he meekly unhooked his legs from the strange figure, stumbling a bit on his feet as he squeak back, “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know--”

The place where those hands made contact with him had noticeably lost its warmth; the man’s skin felt like ice, almost as if he had become a corpse. The creature holding onto him wasn’t even human at this point. The noises out its mouth were merging words like one big stream of sound, spitting out gibberish that was only vaguely understandable.

“My name, what’s my name? What’s my name, name, name? Zero, what’s my name? Name? What’s my name?”

Like a horrible interlude, it began just making noisy lip smacks and pops, like the mouth around those words were melting as it spoke, and it needed practice with it to accommodate. It babbled like its tongue was sticking to the roof of its mouth, like it was speaking with a gloopy mouth full of peanut butter. The outline of the figure got fuzzy, alike to the blurry details in a dark black-and-white photo or an out-of-focus polaroid, walking the line between being something to being nothing. Staring at the supposed edge of the silhouette didn’t help either, as it continuously yet slowly distorted beneath the gaze, at a rate slow enough that the perception felt more like vertigo than a sincere deformation of the figure. The growing pit at the bottom of Zero’s stomach twisted in nausea the longer he tried to discern its shape, dread swelling up in his chest and settling in all the wrong places.

He didn’t just forget the name; Zero couldn’t even remember the face of who that creature was supposed to represent, and that failure of his memory reflected back to him through this eldritch simulacrum. Before him was the culmination of every vague and forgotten information lost from the individual it once represented. The silhouette was ever-changing, yet remaining a looming dark mass. The details of color, shape, or likeness had melted into the backdrop of darkness around it, and its only dimensional consistency was its lack thereof.

Worse yet, the simulacrum continued its mockery of speech once it had adjusted to its malformed mouth.

“What is my name. What is my name. What is my name—“

To call it a voice was unfitting, the words lacked any nature in their cords that could lead Zero to believe a living creature was making them. Even trying to imagine it was a creature producing them tinged the presence of metal in Zero’s mouth. The simulacrum, this vile ephialtes invading his consciousness, spoke so uncanny that its words were stuck echoing in his ears, as if the garbled voice was ricocheting inside his own head.

“I don’t know! Just stop, please just stop…” Voice straining against the thick suffocating air, they sounded almost mute compared to the insistent repetition of the simulacrum.

Then, as if the world was pulled out from under him, he felt a sudden drop out of this horrific rendition of reality, snapping back into the real world with such a speed that it felt like conscious whiplash.

Startled, he jumped, and in that moment he recognized the departure out of dreamland and into his body. Even though the sheets around him were light and airy, his skin felt hot and damp, and the first thing he became aware of was his sweat mending his back to the fabric beneath him.

The lights were dimmed. It was the middle of the night according to the plain white clock ticking softly above the door, contesting with his heart rate monitor between being the only noises in the room. Yet, their off-sync tempos almost made it seem as though they were complementary, somehow adding calmness to the room. Or, perhaps anything compared to that nightmare seemed like the epitome of tranquility.

Confused, he checked his hand, and surely enough noticed his IV line was taped back upon the poor vein it has been yanked from one too many times. And next to the IV printed in neat lettering was a name: Numin.

A sigh of relief escaped at the recognition of that name.

He was so certain he had forgotten. Actually, even now, he can’t remember the last interaction he had with Numin. After freeing himself from his medical shackles and shuffling over with a grace that rivals a toddler learning to walk, Zero didn’t remember much besides kissing his roommate.

A sudden color tinged his pale cheeks.

They kissed. That much, Zero is certain of-- even though his memory after said kiss got very butchered afterwards. On top of that, beside the certainty of said kiss existing, he was also positive that it was Numin who had grasped his hospital gown and pulled him down into it.

The color on his face intensified, waxing with every second he spent dwelling on that memory.

They hadn’t just kissed; Numin instigated the kiss.

However, like a dismal cliffhanger at the end of a fantastic season finale, Zero drew a blank on what exactly happened next. Hell, he couldn’t even remember returning to bed and falling asleep. Did they spend the time fondly cuddling and sharing intimate thoughts on hushed, quiet breaths between themselves? Did they continue making out, before not really feeling into it and learning they didn’t have as much of a spark as once thought? Did they just flat out have sex last night?

Anything was on the table at this point, and Zero was prepared to play this scavenger hunt with his own memories. After all, it would be quite embarrassing to wake Numin-- whom Zero could tell was fast asleep from his sporadic snoring across the room-- and ask him what happened. Not only would it be embarrassing on Zero’s part, but what if his lack of recall of a potentially fond and intimate moment was a red flag to Numin that’ll make him recede his interest in a fresh amnesiac?

Sitting up, slow enough in case Numin was a light sleeper, Zero brought his hand up to the faint glow of the heart rate monitor to examine the IV line.

Despite the darkness of the room, the dim monitor light was just enough illumination to realize he didn’t even have the IV line in. Rather, it looked as if the medical tape was just tape back over the vein to hold the line in place, leading Zero to the relieving conclusion that a nurse hadn’t come in and interrupted them. Instead, it appears Zero himself probably taped the line down and planned on pretending to a nurse in the morning that it had fallen out of the vein during the night. After all, he didn’t have the original needle to insert the IV tube, and probably wouldn’t have the best idea on doing it both safely and believably.

Even though it was the plan of a forgotten consciousness, a soft smirk of pride ghosted his lips at the idea of taping the IV line down. Or perhaps, maybe he was just retrospectively grateful his former self even put an effort to hide the freed IV line at all, for Zero could completely see himself having a steamy night with an interesting man and going to bed without a care how conspicuous he appeared the following morning, consequences be damned. Said consequences would without doubt be sharing Numin’s state of handcuffed confinement, although unlike him Zero would sooner break his own wrist before successfully breaking out any cuffs.

Disrupting the line of thought to continue his own self-detective work, Zero carried on.

It only took an exploring hand snaking into his gown to tell that the stickers holding the heart sensors were also inexpertly returned to his chest. So more or less, he was checking all the boxes to at least appear at a glance like he had spent the whole night in his bed.

Now that he had confirmed his former consciousness had already established his alibi, his efforts redirected to figuring out what exactly happened after their kiss. Lucky for him-- although not as lucky for his liver-- Zero has had plenty of experiences deciphering a night he doesn’t remember from all the countless times he’s gotten blackout drunk.

If there was anyone who would probably make a good amnesiac detective, it was Zero. That or every morning-after hangover investigation he had ever done would have all been in vain.

There was a bathroom door in the room, on the far side closer to Numin’s bed. If he could make it there, he could check if maybe he had a hickey or two that’ll allude to what he and Numin was up to a few hours prior.

Zero couldn’t help a little smirk at the thought. After all, maybe Numin finally put those dangerous teeth to use.

Aside from a sly bite of his lip, exciting himself at his own thoughts, he made an effort to try and not let himself get carried away by his suggestive imagination.

Once again, he undid the taping on his hand to detach himself from the IV, and peeled off the sensors from his chest with a bit more care than his haphazard yank earlier. After pushing back the sheets that freely crinkled noisily amidst his stealth, Zero stole another glance up towards Numin, confirming he was still deep in sleep whilst he pushed smoothly off the bed.

Or at least, as smooth as he could over his still unadjusted feet. There were a few patters as he calibrated himself, the balls of his feet meeting the floor and dancing his weight back and forth between the two as if they just weren't landed on the floor quite right, before the muscles of his legs finally all synced together and kept him steady without feeling the need to constantly shift his weight. The sensation of jelly in his legs didn’t go away, but at this point it wouldn’t be a shocker if his head injury was compounding with his lack of coordination. Nevertheless, feet ready to be walking or not, Zero made his way towards the bathroom door as softly as he could to remain quiet.

Embarrassingly enough, the lack of adjustment showed in his gait, as it swayed unsteady and borderline on a stumble at points before evening out as best Zero could manage. Perhaps, what with his lack of an audience it was only embarrassing for himself, but it still brought a sensation of heat to his cheeks that made him that much more cautious to not wake Numin.

But somehow his feet still found it’s way guiding him to the bathroom door, even if he walked with about as much confidence as a newborn deer. There was an auditable sigh of relief upon reaching the door, and completely ignoring the loud creak it made on its hinges, he hurried inside and flicked on the light.

The sudden brightness made him recoil, hands reflexively coming up to shield his unprepared eyes. After a series of squints and blinks, the room became perceivable, albeit a lackluster view what with the bland setup. The walls were a simple powered blue, and the sink and toilet the same porcelain white. Adjacent to the mirror above the sink was an automatic soap dispenser, the kind Zero remembers seeing at shops or restaurants bathrooms, generic for commercial use.

When his eyes laid on his own reflection, he gave a meek whimper at his face.

Adorning one side were the dark blots of bruises, discolored with greenish hues to suggest they were days old, trailing over the cheek of the side the cop had kicked mercilessly, and fading off slightly over his brow. Zero often had bags with his chaotic sleep schedule, but the dark puffiness beneath the eye on the more abused side looked much different than under-eye circles, instead it was more rounded and shiny in appearance. Never having a black eye before in his life, it almost turned his stomach to see one on his own face, even if one so minor in comparison to ones he’s seen on people before.

The gauze around his head was wrapped expertly and tight, with particularly thick padding above that sore spot on his head that wouldn’t stop throbbing. Worst yet, perhaps exacerbated by his recent activity, there was a tinge of bleed-through coloring the thick padding over his head injury, suggesting he had reopened the wound.

Lastly, and probably just as disheartening as the rest of his appearance, he bore no hickeys or bite marks over his neck. But after taking in his own reflection Zero almost doesn’t even blame Numin; he looked so battered and frail that it was no wonder the nurse was surprised he had woken from his coma so soon; it almost looked as if he had no right waking from his coma at all.

A dark, dismal drop sank deep into his hollow chest. He wasn’t in any state that even remotely screamed desirable. And while that was a silly thing to be worrying about at the moment, it was a major clue that things probably didn’t go anywhere exciting last night with Numin.

In all honesty, Zero was surprised he was even interested in him enough to kiss him.

Dejected, and a bit over this whole detective game, he shuffled out of the bathroom pitifully, hunched over and over wishing he hadn’t gotten out of his bed to begin with. Yet, to his even sadder surprise, Numin appeared roused awake upon his exit from the bathroom.

Even though the half-lidded look upon his face suggested the lingering presence of sleep, Numin still offered a single raised brow at Zero, a silent question to what he was up to in the dead of night.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He offered sheepishly, almost phrased like an apology. Compared to only hours before, his demeanor had noticeably repressed, not even offering eye contact as he kept his downcast gaze locked on the powered blue vinyl lining the floor below.

“Doesn’t take much to stir me.” With a casual stretch, Numin replied with a cloudy tone, sleep still overtly overcasting his newfound wakefulness. “Can’t sleep very well? You don’t look rested.”

Offering a half-hearted shrug, Zero shifted to leaned against the closed door of the bathroom, having a bad feeling this wasn’t going to be a short conversation.

“I slept some, just had a bad dream,” with a nod towards the bathroom he came from, he elaborated, “I figured I haven’t seen myself in the mirror since the incident so I got up to check.”

The delivery was shallow, as if meant to hide the deeper disturbance Zero held underneath to seeing his reflection. Enough so that Numin could note it, knitting his brow at the smaller man slouching meekly against the bathroom door, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Don’t like what you see?” Guessing, Numin straightened up, seemingly more alert at the notice of Zero’s perturbation.

Unintentionally confirming, he slouched in even more, wishing the darkness of the room was enough to hide his marred features.

“Nah, I’m absolutely thrilled with the bruised and bloody look.” Zero retorted, voice with a backbone of sarcasm, yet delivery surely missing a few vertebrae.

The corner of Numin’s lips just barely peaked, gauging the jest as a good sign. “You’re in the hospital for a traumatic brain injury and currently being detained for a felony cyber crime. But sure, your swollen eye is definitely your biggest problem right now.”

Reflexively at those words, Zero folded his arms around his chest tight, unintentionally emphasizing his thin, fragile-looking frame.

“I’m not saying it’s my biggest problem. It’s just, I’m not exactly the fighting type, so this look is just…” hissing, as if he was trapped into finishing the sentence now, Zero struggled to pin down the correct adjective,“...it is just unsettling, to me.”

His anxieties were only met by a deep, reverberating chuckle from the larger man, who only seemed amused. “Guess I’m just used to seeing people bruised and bloody.” Numin shrugged before looking up, but upon noticing the red glow of embarrassment adorning Zero’s face, a deep part of him stirred in discomfort.

Before he had even realized, his tone took on a much different tenor as new words suddenly found their way on his tongue, that deep part of him yearning to diminish that disheartened look on Zero.

“The black eye will fade in about a week and a half. And your bruising has already turned green so I’d give it another five days, seven tops.” Huffing out a sigh, feeling that deep part of himself settle, Numin offered another ever-so-slight peak of the corners of his lips before finishing. “You’re fine, Zero.”

Blinking thrice, Zero found himself taken aback.

“Th… thanks. That’s good to hear the worst of it should subside in a week.”

If Zero didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that was Numin’s best efforts at trying to comfort him. At least, it would seem that way in his delivery, but such an assumption would be a bit brash to make with a seemingly heartless individual like him. Or perhaps there was a heart in there, somewhere deep and hidden as to not invite harm, that Numin kept guarded ferociously lest he be taken advantage of.

Zero had to wonder if he was born so abrasive or if it was learned, like a defense mechanism. And he couldn’t lie; he also wondered what was so different in himself that Numin cared not to bare his teeth and intimidate him, like he seems to do to all others who dare interact with him.

Shrugging off the wall, Zero took a few idle steps forward.

“Or at least the worst appearance-wise should clear up, that is. I’m honestly not sure about my memory, though.” On finishing, he was just about at the foot of Numin’s bed, and he extended both hands down on the plastic baseboard to lean in a bit. “If I’m being honest… I can’t even remember what happened between us earlier tonight.”

Although his body language was noticeably less embarrassed, there was an obvious shame in Zero’s expression, and he bit absently at his lower lip as if his lip ring was still present to fidget with.

Numin’s brow peaked up.

“You don’t remember anything?” Stiffening up, Numin tried to ignore that deep part of him festering once more, sitting like a weight at the bottom of his throat. Swallowing didn’t help; it only made the heavy sensation more vivid. “Do you remember my name, Zero?”

He pretended that he didn’t notice Zero’s mouth twitch into a momentarily frown, before his jaw noticeably clenched to keep himself leveled.

“When… When I woke up, I didn’t.” Woefully, he raised his right hand, and gave a tap to the name still penned on the back of it. With what could only be described as a pitiful smile, he assured Numin, “I did remember where to find it, though.”

Releasing a controlled sigh, Numin accepted those words as enough for him.

“But a few hours ago? Nothing?” The inquiry held an awful weight in those words, one that Numin wasn’t bothering to hide.

Clicking his tongue, Zero’s gaze wandered up momentarily, as if testing his own recall.

“I remember what the nurse said, about you attacking your previous roommates. And that you offered a trust-fall exercise to show you weren’t a threat to me.” The pale color of his face reddened slightly, and Numin noticed his gaze was now more purposely avoiding his own as he continued, “I-I went over to your bed, and… w-we…”

“We kissed.” Numin finished for him. An uncharacteristically soft smile graced Numin’s features in response to how bashful Zero had become, knowing well it wasn’t the amnesia that was holding Zero back from completing his sentence.

Rewardingly so, he watched as Zero sighed in relief, as if he had been self-doubting if the memory was even real.

“Y-yes, we kissed. But, after that, I-I’m not all too sure what we did…” trailing off, Zero’s eyes kept low to avoid contact with Numin’s, but his diffidence wasn't about to be coddled and catered to by the other man.

“We didn’t fuck if that’s what you’re asking.” Numin supplemented, albeit delivered with a grin of jest. Part of it was just to take delight in watching Zero’s face immediately flush and redden, but a sliver of it was indeed meant to clarify.

And redden he did, almost instantaneously feeling the heat rush to his cheeks. Yet watching Numin subtly smirk at the rise he got out of him, Zero felt the need to justify himself.

“No, no of course not. After all, it’s not like I woke up sore or bleeding down there or anything--” Cutting himself off, Zero realized his insinuation exposed his typical role in the bedroom, and although it didn’t take a lot of detective work for Numin to figure that one out, Zero still found himself somehow even more embarrassed by the second. Which only served to widen Numin’s already entertained smirk.

“For shame, Zero! Give me more credit than that.” Brazen, but still maintaining an atmosphere of jest, Numin continued with a cocky grin, “I would never prepare a partner so half-heartedly that they bleed from being with me. Or hell, even feel sore.”

“I-I didn’t mean to insinuate, I-I’m just used to—“

“Used to tops that don’t know what they’re doing? Come on Zero, you don’t need to put up with that.”

Zero gave a meek shrug, before slouching into himself.

“I know, I-I know… but I’m used to it, it’s not a big deal.” He leaned off the baseboard, and stepped around it to sit at the foot of Numin’s bed before continuing. “Besides, it already comes with the territory that it’s gonna hurt a little bit each time.”

This time Numin scoffed a bit, seemingly a little less entertained and a bit more irritated at whoever convinced Zero that anal sex was doomed to always hurt a bit. Surely a former sex partner, to excuse their own laziness or inexperience; or at least, Numin guessed so.

“I’m telling you, it really doesn’t have to.” The slight irritation in his tone almost immediately waned upon seeing Zero’s worried gaze up at him, and instead Numin found himself forming his next words before a devilish smirk even had time to grow on his lips. “Still don’t believe me? Oh Zero, don’t make me prove it to you.”

Immediately, the lewd suggestion earned a flustered squeak of surprise from the very much embarrassed Zero.

The amount of blood rushing to his face looked enough to cause a faint, what with the bright vermillion glow his naturally pale skin bloomed with. So much, in fact, that Numin almost expected him to swoon— in the quite literal sense of fainting, that is. It wasn’t as if a man as thin and lithe as Zero exactly had so much blood to spare to bring with.

“P-prove what—?” Finally managing to stutter out a line, Zero looked as if he didn’t believe what Numin just suggested. Perhaps in his already sensitive and embarrassed state it wasn’t the right atmosphere to pose such an offer, but Numin couldn’t lie that it was quite cute to watch his sarcastic demeanor wither away into endearing bashfulness.

Numin caught himself thinking that word again. Cute.

It was surprising how much Zero drew that word into his head.

“So coy all of a sudden, hm? Do I need to be more direct?” Leaning in, confined by his shackled wrist from getting too close, his face still managed to be only a foot or two away from Zero’s. In his pause, he noticed that despite his blush, Zero leaned in towards him reciprocally, as if awaiting in bated breath for his continuation, sealing Numin’s confidence in what he planned to say next.

“Do you want to fuck me, Zero?”

Eyes immediately widening, Zero’s mouth parted momentarily as if the words got stuck in his throat. In those bright green irises pooled a storm of different emotions, all too intertwined to differentiate, but each playing a role in the dumbfounded look on his face.

No words. No reply. No nothing.

Numin, still smirking, was almost about to poke fun at his sudden stupor until Zero leaned in fast, crashing his lips onto his own hungerly.

And, pushing back into the kiss once he realized what was happening, Numin heard Zero’s non-verbal response. He heard it in the way Zero’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and in the way his slender hand found hold onto his shoulder. He heard it in the feel of Zero’s back arching slightly towards him, he heard it through the muffled groan released against his lips.

Zero’s whole body was practically screaming one word.

Yes, yes, yes.

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