Promises
He should know better.
Wolfwood has seen Vash make promises, or hear about the ones he has made in the past. He has also seen the end of each one and how every single time the outcome is less than what was promised.
Vash likes to say embellished words, with a soft and determined voice that lures you into his hopes and dreams, it almost feels like a spell, as if he was calling for you to come closer and believe him. But Wolfwood knows better.
He believes in him, but Vash is much closer to being an idealistic dreamer than a realistic person like he is. He might not be aware of it, but his beautiful promises of a better future give people hope, a hope that is usually embraced with things like disappointment and abandonment.
He doesn’t think that Vash does it with the intent of looking for any of those things. Far from it, he might even do the impossible in order to accomplish said promises, but life is too short and humans are too mortal for his wishes, so in the end, most of Vash’s promises end up being empty or they come to haunt him as a reminder of his failed vows. He admires the man, for his perseverance and idealism, but he also hates the man, for his stubbornness and lies.
Wolfwood knows all of this perfectly to a tee. And yet, he has also found himself being drawn to his world. Because he also dreams of it.
A world in where his always present calls for love and peace exist, a world that is far more kind than what he might deserve, a world in where the kids can be happy and roam around without any worry in their heads, a world in where he can peacefully turn grey with age and his hands can shed the harsh callouses of his life. Who knows, maybe a world in where he and Vash can finally know the peace that was taken away from them, in where they can share the calmness that comes with the passage of time, indulging in every tick of the clock welcoming with open arms whatever comes their way without any fear.
It is a beautiful promise. But Wolfwood is a person that has to keep his feet on the ground, indulging in “what ifs” would only make things harder than what they had to be. He can’t have any ifs if he can’t make it through the now. And by the way he is carrying his present, he is doubtful he will even get to see a shed of that promised world that Vash tries to drag him into. So why mourn something he doesn’t even have, or will ever have for that matter.
He hates the way Vash seems to promise things so easily. His tongue silky and pliant, slipping divine words one after the other, promises way too big for what that barren world can actually fit.
But when Vash talks to him in that holy voice of his, when he hears him say “It’s okay, everything will be alright, I promise” so gently right on his ear, while he holds his face so tenderly making him focus on him and nothing else, he wants to believe him.
He has seen the end of his promises. He knows how impossible they are. But for once, he wants to believe it too. Believe in that loving world that will cradle them both until they fall asleep, listening to the soft sound of the wind laughing while the moons smile upon them.
So he allows himself to indulge in the warmth of his palms, leaning into the comfort of his existence, feeling the soft air of Vash’s breaths against his skin while their foreheads meet in a touch that feels like a hot brand that will melt him.
For an instant, he allows himself to be selfish and believe that maybe, that is how living in that world Vash so desperately fights for would be. Soft and warm, making him feel safe in the hollow of Vash’s hands where the world seems to fit so well. A world where the blue sky is a blanket that covers the love and care that is nestled in it like the one in Vash’s eyes. He wants to see that world.
For now, he will selfishly think that the world that fits in Vash’s hands is right there in where he is holding him, where his blue eyes are drowning in the light of the sunset dripping with love and care while looking at him, that the gentle touch of Vash’s thumb wiping his tears is the same as the kiss of that laughing wind in that distant future, where the smile of his eyes overcomes the smile of the moons.
He should know better. But he loves the thought of that world. And he hopes that Vash will get to see that world, because that gentle sight is more fitting for someone like him than the one of his violent world.
He promises to himself that he will do what it takes for that day to be possible. Even if the end of that promise will be empty for Nicholas, he knows it will be a full one for Vash. So it really isn’t that empty for him after all.
He hates his lies, and he hates how true they sound, but Vash’s embellished words are far sweeter than his bitter thoughts so they feel better on his insides, almost like a balm that cares for the wounds of his throbbing, painful reality.
He should know better.
But aren’t humans weak at the promise of love?
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not me thinking about how both Nai and Vash keep passing the "fallen angel" symbolism onto each other like a hot potato
Lucifer, the light-bringer, the morning star, the shining one, fallen from grace and losing his halo, his wings, burning as he falls, shifting from light to dark
white-clean Nai burning to a crisp, screaming in hate and fear and rejection and trying to reach for the forbidden in his hubris until it flays him alive and turns him into a blackened, snarling demon
void-dark Vash reaching out to his brethren with no way to stop himself, crying in loss all the way down, crashing like a comet from the heavens and killing everyone in his path down to Hell
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Darling the brain rot for corio is real. I wish I had it in me to be ashamed but I can sense that he’s a sub. I just know it. I feel like if he got topped he might finally be able to relax a bit. He’s so angsty but you’re so right about him being a virgin. I wanna explore this idea. By explore I mean this
pooks i don't mean to go against you here ... but i think coryo is too self righteous to be submissive. like canonically speaking, he has too much pride and fully believes that he has to be strong and the one in power all the time. and of course, this translates to the way he fucks.
but! he's more submissive than he realizes and if you don't bring it up to him, he won't even think about it. he doesn't consider that the way he shudders and his eyes flutter shut when he bottoms out for the first time isn't a peak display of power. in fact, he doesn't think much at all when he's in you.
he might be on top in most cases, but you're in control. your ankles hooked behind his back, your nails raking through his freshly cut hair, your voice encouraging him and spurring him on.
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[ the things i do for you–; let’s just say missing out on the limited edition tcg card of your boyfriend is a bit... devastating ]
“you’re crying.”
“no, i’m sniffling. my nose is clogged,”
“because you’re crying,”
“no, i’m sniffling because my nose is clogged. i said so,”
“no, you’re sniffling because your nose is clogged because you’re crying because you couldn’t get the limited edition tcg card... of me?” alhaitham’s voice had an edge of... well, in order to not sugarcoat it, judgement. he couldn’t fathom why a silly little illustrated piece of cardstock of him of all people was something to cry over.
on the other hand, kaveh, who was having the absolute time of his life over his roommates confused stupor, patted your back from across the tavern table in attempt to comfort you.
“it’s alright!” he exclaimed boisterously as he handed you a hankerchief. it was your second, actually, since you’d ruined the first one alhaitham had given you before. “there’s better cards to get! besides, uh, do you really want to build a deck around... well, him?”
“says the guy who doesn’t even have a card made after him,” alhaitham shot back, only to garner a dramatic gasp for kaveh.
“i– listen here, you! up until today, you didn’t have a card either, so how are you better than me?!” he jabbed an accusatory finger at alhaitham, who barely flinched from beside you.
“firstly, i never said i was better than you, though that is quite the astute observation on your part. i’m glad to see you’re growing your self awareness. and secondly, i am better than you in terms of the current subject because i do in fact have a card. you can try to argue, but your lack of cards sharing your likeness is simply irrefutable.”
the scarlet rage on kaveh’s face matched his red cape, and he slammed his fists down on the table. “you know what? i give up with you! good luck to you–,” he said to you, with considerably less ire, “– and good riddance to you!” he snapped at alhaitham.
you watched as kaveh marched out through wet eyelashes. usually, you’d laugh a bit at their bickering, but the fact you couldn’t get ahold of the alhaitham tcg card did make you sad. it was a bit childish, but with a glass of wine warming up your throat, maybe you were a bit extra emotional.
“... does the card matter that much?” alhaitham asked, ignoring kaveh’s departure completely. there was an uncharacteristic awkwardness in his voice, not because he was mocking you, but because of his genuine lack of understanding of your sorrow. “i’m right here.”
“yeah but like it’s cool. i mean you’re cool too. but like, there’s only 10 of the cards, and only 5 of them have the holographic and gold detailing and it’s just so pretty...”
idly, he wondered if should be offended that you simply regarded him as cool as a holographic piece of cardstock.
“but it’s simply a card. i’m sure it doesn’t have very good combat– er, tcg– prowess anyways.” even he flinched lightly when you dropped your forehead against the wooden table. one of the waiters looked over at you two with concern, but alhaitham simply shook his head.
“yeah, but its a card of you! ugh, how do i say this in a way that makes sense?” you cried, making grabbing motions with your outstretched hands, despite not raising your head. he wordlessly passed you a glass of water. you didn’t drink it, but you lifted your head and pressed the cool surface against your forehead.
“it’s priceless because it’s you. and you’re really cool, you know! cool enough to get a limited run of tcg cards made of you even though no one in this country knows jack shit about you! and it’s just lame that of all the people to not have the coolest card of you is me. and think about it! we don’t even have a kamera, so i don’t even have a picture of you.”
“you could get a portrait done,” he said pointedly, but you snorted.
“look me in the eyes, ‘haitham, that you’d pay money and sit down for someone to paint a portrait of you,”
he didn’t reply for a moment, humming quietly under his breath. at first glance, you would’ve assumed he was agreeing with you, but the careful glint in his eyes was that of careful consideration.
“... if you’d like, we can do that.”
“huh?”
“did i stutter?” ah, there’s the signature bite. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “you wanted a painting, didn’t you? we can get one done.” as he spoke, he was looking into your eyes, unwavering confidence in the emerald and rust. “and let’s make a deal, shall we? if you stop crying, and take care of the hassle of locating a genuine copy of the card, i’ll foot the cost and get it for you. how’s that sound?”
you looked like fish with how your mouth hung wide open, eyes widened with an unbridled kind of shock. alhaitham, decidedly, liked that look a lot. he much preferred it over your crying face and drunken stupor. he especially liked that you broke into an elated grin, all but throwing yourself at him.
“thank you, thank you, thank you!” his face remained passive, calmly sipping his wine though his arm did snake around your waist so you didn’t fall out of your chair, even though he knew your embrace around his shoulders would probably provide enough stability. “don’t worry, i’ll do my best to look for one!”
“good,” alhaitham had a smug sort of smile playing on his lips as he finished off the last of his wine, before gently prying your hands away from him with an uncharacteristic sort of tenderness though he did keep ahold of your wrist as he stood up. “boss, put the bill on my tab if you would– not kaveh’s though. he only had a glass, i’m sure he can pay it off.”
he pulled you up, making sure you didn’t fall as you waved and he nodded at the owner, walking swiftly away. you giggled to yourself, knowing he’d been planning to leave for a while– alhaitham preferred a strict schedule after all, and he was a determined man who wanted to get his 8 hours in before work.
“what?” he asked you, eyebrow arching up as you weaved through the streets, hand in hand. it seemed like you were staying at his home that night.
“no, i’m just wondering if you even knew where to find a painter who’d agree to sit down with you,” you chirped, laughing until you caught the smirk on his face. you peered at him curiously.
“oh, i don’t need to find one. what good is living with an artistic freeloader if not to get his services in exchange for shirking off a month’s rent?”
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