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#i need a fic where they find out

margareturtle · 17 days

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I haven’t seen this in a fic yet (pls send me links if you have!!) so I’m doing it myself:

How Jeremy+Cat+ Laila find out about the 80% deal (set after the news about Jean’s family has already been released) (pt 1)

The gang is in the kitchen:

Jeremy: Jean, I’m telling coach to bench you for just this one match! You’re sick (or minorly injured). Just take a break and you’ll be back next match!

Jean: No! I’m fine! There are scouts for Court coming to this game!

Jeremy: yes and you’re just getting over the flu (or a twisted ankle idk)! Just take a rest, the Court scouts will be back next year!

Jean: I’m good to play! I need to play! I need to sign to court!

Jeremy: And I’m sure you will be! Kevin was just signed, no one doubts you will be signed as well ! What difference does a year make?

Jean: what difference does a year— I need to prove myself or they’ll think I can’t and— I can play! I will play!

Jeremy: no— I already told the coaches you aren’t playing— they’re in support

Jean: YOU WHAT? *panicking* they’re gonna kill me they’re gonna kill me

Jeremy: *softening* oh Jean it’s ok. You’re with the trojans remember. You’re not at the nest. You’re safe. Riko is dead. Tetsuji is gone. Everyone respects your right to a break. You’re free of the Moriyamas now.

Jean: You insolent fool! I will never be free of the Moriyamas!

Jeremy: ok Jean, I know it may feel like that sometimes. But you are free with us now. There are no more Moriyamas that will hurt you.

Cat: *thinking* well there’s Ichirou

Jeremy: *glares at Cat*

Cat: what? As smart as you are Jere you still haven’t learned to take the things Jean says at face value. He just said “I will never be free of the Moriyamas”

Jeremy: yeah but that’s not— Ichirou is a business man, all he cares about is money and his new fiance!

Laila: yeah but what really is the Moriyama family business? I haven’t really thought about it before but Ichirou looks rich af so it’s gotta be smth good…Jean you must now what it is.

Jean: *doesn’t respond to non questions*

Jeremy: Come on, this isn’t related to why Jean is so freaked out he can’t play today!

Cat: judging by his silence rn it def is! So what is it Jean? What’s the Moriyama business? You must know!

Jean: *stressed* it’s not important

Laila: clearly it is, now you can tell us or I’m happy to start guessing!

Jean: don’t—

Laila: let’s see it’s prob smth shady if you won’t say. Let’s see, do they deal in exotic Animals? Is Ichirou secretly tiger king?

Jean: No?! Just stop!

Laila: Or is it some business offensive to french culture? Oh no Jean, is their business in wine? Do they sell prosecco and call it champagne?

Jean: it’s not—

Laila: Oh or it has smth to do with why you learned so many languages while you were there? They’re secretly in the spy industry training to be spies??

Jean: of course not! Now stop asking I won’t tell you.

Cat: oh jean 😭 way to get us all more intrigued.

Jeremy: yeah let’s return to the topic of—

Laila: *who’s been thinking for a sec* pfft I know *sarcastically* Ichirou is secretly a mob boss too who has been in kahoots with—

Jean: *flinches*

Laila: your dad and neil’s dad which means—

Laila: Wait what the fuck?!! I was joking—I know the Moriyama’s business is just some boring corporate shit! But you just—What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK!! You only flinch when I land spot on I—

Jean: *lunges for a knife with one hand that Jeremy catches. Lunges for his throat with the other that Cat gets a hold of first*

Laila: holy shit. No way. What. You’re kidding— I can’t. I wAs jOkinG !! Do the foxes know? Kevin must know if you do—

Laila: *picks up Jeremy’s phone he left in the kitchen counter*

Laila: *calling kevin*

(Pt 2 call with kevin coming soon)

#the sunshine court #tsc #the foxhole court #aftg #jerejean #jean moreau #jeremy knox #laila dermott #the moriyama family business #i need a fic where they find out #they’re gonna go crazy #fnenrnejwiw #andreil #catalina alvarez #alvamott #catalaila #love my fav lesbians and they’re adopted french son

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pizzaqueen · 6 months

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Rest Stop

Written for the prompt ‘rest’ for @steddiemicrofic

387 words / rated T / pre-slash

Recreational drug use

There’s a rest stop on the decommissioned road a little ways out of Hawkins. It’s not a lot of anything, a tin roof over a picnic table, but Steve likes it. Thinks of it as ‘his’ spot, even though Tommy H told him about it. But it’s a good place to be alone. To, well, rest.

And, sure, Hawkins is full of places like that, quiet, empty places, and alone isn’t something Steve likes to be that much, but nights like tonight…

He sighs, tips his beer to his lips. It doesn’t hit him often, but when it does, it’s a restless itch; he can get away from Hawkins, from his house, his job, his nonexistent love life, but he can’t get away from that feeling. Out here he gets close, though.

Tonight, his solitude is short-lived. Footsteps make Steve tense, and a deep voice cuts through the night: “Steve?”

The tension drains; Steve turns. “Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie blinks. “I found you.” He scratches his head, nods at the table Steve’s sitting on. “Mind if I…?”

“It’s a free country.”

“So I’m told.” Eddie’s lips quirk; he sits beside Steve, pulling a joint from his jacket. He waggles it; Steve nods.

“Why were you looking for me?”

An orange flame sparks from Eddie’s lighter, catching the end of the joint. “I wasn’t.” Eddie takes a drag, gives the joint to Steve.

“You said you found me…”

“Don’t have to be looking for you to find you.”

Steve shakes his head. “All right.” He takes a hit, relishing the pleasant buzz, passes it back.

“What brings the valiant Sir Steve out here?”

“I like the quiet.”

“That a hint for me to shut my yap?”

“No.” Steve knocks their shoulders together. “I like listening to you talk.” Why did he say that? He doesn’t really care. Huh.

Surprise flickers over Eddie’s face, but it settles into something pleased. “Good.” He winks. “Because I have plenty of stories to tell.”

After a few moments, Steve says, “Well,” waving his hand, “go ahead.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle; he starts talking, gesticulating wildly, and Steve realizes the restlessness is gone. Maybe it’s the weed. He’s pretty sure it’s all Eddie.

Okay. Something to look at later. For now, he basks in Eddie’s voice and the easy, restful feeling of being near him.

#steddie #steve x eddie #Steddie fic #Steddie fanfic #steddiemicrofic #this is the one I was worried about being OOC and asked for ‘permission’ to keep writing lol #thanks for the encouragement!!#also this is like one of those nights where you want to be alone but then you find company and it’s better than being alone #i love solitude but idk sometimes it’s what I think I need but it turns out I’m wrong #pizzaqueenfic #i left this in my drafts because I was too chicken to post it but I guess I may as well

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cj-kenobi · 8 months

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not to be autistic on main but what if I wrote a fictional scientific paper about the ecology headcanons I have for Tatooine

#i cent think of a fic plot where they'd find out everything i have thought of and its been upsetting me for like 2 years #i don't even care if no one reads it i need to make graphs #i need to get the headcanons Out

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1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam · 2 months

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Watching Eddie Begins with Buddie-colored glasses on is already crazy enough, but I just caught something that I never really thought about before. Athena tells Bobby that the news crews showing up before she leaves for another call might turn the call into a nationwide story. And then Buck absolutely LOSES it when 30 feet of wet earth falls on top of Eddie. So yeah, maybe Bobby pulls Buck away to stop him from futilely digging for Eddie with his hands, but maybe he also does it because he doesn’t want his kid’s grief and fear and love for Eddie being broadcast across the country. Especially not when Bobby thinks that Eddie’s probably already dead. And not only does Bobby pull Buck away from the well, he pulls back right into his lap. This is the closest we get to Bobby cradling Buck in his arms until the lightning strike, and it’s because he doesn’t want Buck to be in pain, and he most certainly does NOT want the tragedy of Eddie’s death to be made even worse by Buck’s pain over it being broadcast to the entire country.

#bobby is buck's dad #911 #9-1-1 #911 abc #9-1-1 abc #buddie #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #athena grant #also #just because I’ve never really posted meta about Eddie begins before #we REALLY need to talk about the fact that Buck’s reaction to Eddie’s potential demise is the ONLY reaction show live and in color #season 3 buddie was NOT subtle in the slightest y’all #I know there’s so many fics out there about Eddie finding a video of Buck’s reaction to him being trapped but I want one where he watches #and is ALSO so fucking grateful for Bobby pulling Buck away from where he was buried #for taking care of his partner when he wasn’t topside to do it himself #that still of Bobby and eddie talking for s7 reallyyyy has me in my feels about these three men and their incredible dynamic #well scene #you will always be famous #fuck the writers for this actually #(affectionate)

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help-i-need-a-cool-username · 11 months

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I see your "the JL thinks Nightwing/Robin is Batman's husband because Batman calls him 'my partner'" fics and raise you "the JL overhear many convos between the Bats where 'Agent A' is mentioned in a domestic fashion and assume Agent A is Batman's wife"

#hinacu dc #batfam #batman #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #justice league #justice league find out about the batfam #''what has agent a made for dinner'' ''agent a sent me to collect you'' ''agent a will need to repair the suit''#the fact i have yet to stumble upon a fic where ppl assume ''agent a'' is batman's housewife or at least the kids' mother is surprising

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polarisbibliotheque · 7 days

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Can You Hear The Rumble? - Vergil x Reader

Music Inspired Fics (Devil May Music) - Cirice, by Ghost

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone knew the kind of demon a hunter should be wary about is the one who plays with their victim's minds. You and Vergil were very proud on the outside - but how would it be when having to save each other on the inside for the first time?

TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of blood, cuts, bruises, scars and suffering on both Vergil and the reader's sides. The reader also struggles with perfection and self-loathing - in a "I'm never going to be a good person" kind of way, because I needed to get more intimate on the reader's part as well - and there are scenes with the reader covered in cuts and bleeding, though not self-imposed, it could be read like that. Those scenes are the reader's and Vergil's internal images of themselves. Reader and Vergil meet each other on their imperfections and the darkest parts of their souls, so BE WARNED. This might not be everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of potential triggers.

Author's Note: @tokkis-shelf asked me if Vergil's part of the Halloween special was inspired by Cirice, and here we are now. It is what kickstarted the song-fic requests! As with a lot of people, I think, Cirice is pretty personal to me.

In the video, it was so comforting to me seeing the black sheep being represented hahahaha and I guess that's why people love it so much. The part where they hold hands? I died, I'd never let go, I cry my soul out upon watching. (I did a very similar drawing to that scene when I was in school around 15 years ago, so it drop-kicked me out of my body xD)

Now, when writing this, I kept in mind that this song has a double meaning and can be quite comforting and quite manipulative at the same time - hence why I use the "can't you see that you're lost without me?" in two different situations, 'cause I think Cirice can be interpreted in so many ways and each person takes what they need from this song. I hope you guys like it!!

Plus, the song the reader and Dante sing at the end is The Power of Love, by Huey Lewis and The News

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Cirice, by Ghost

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

It happened every time Vergil walked in the darkness.

That voice in the back of his head, silently taunting him, the hiss of a quiet viper in the hopes of taking him back to the darkest parts of his soul. Quiet, lurking, whispering… Mundus always there, somewhere in the folds of his consciousness, guiding him back into the void – luring Vergil back into his shackles.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

As if Vergil couldn’t belong anywhere else, as if his place was in Hell. After all he had been through, after all the sins he perpetrated, he believed wholeheartedly there was no hope for him at all – only a fool’s hope; only a glimmer of a wish he wasn’t as tainted as he was… A desire to not be such a monster as he was.

Pacing quietly through the empty cathedral, Vergil had already learned not to give in to those thoughts – to keep them at bay, as only a whisper in the darkness, of trickster voices that would always remind him of how inhuman he was.

It was times like this Vergil longed for the faint glimmer of the moon, or the warm ghostly light of a candle. It was easy to get lost in the dark, but a single ray of light could help through the direst of situations. That night, though, it seemed like the moon had fallen asleep behind the curtains of the clouds – Selene hiding her tears for her earthly lover in his eternal sleep.

None of you knew what that night entailed – you weren’t even certain what you were dealing with. That was the reason why Lady strutted in the Devil May Cry, not too fond of taking a job she didn’t know if it was up to her abilities.

“Well, looks like I have a new one for you to pay your debt, big guy!” Her singsong voice interrupted the ambience of the jukebox; Lady entering the shop with Kalina Ann and all.

“Eh, I’m never gonna be free of my debt, Lady, let’s be honest.” Dante sighed, putting his feet down and throwing his magazine across the table, shooting her a serious glare. “But things have been borin’ lately, so one of your odd jobs’ not gonna hurt. Whaddya have for me?”

“You talk as if I never help you enough to maintain this place.” She lifted one eyebrow, approaching the big desk at the middle of the shop.

“Gotta give the woman credit, Dante. Last month’s bills were on her.” You shrugged as you had finally come out of your shower, happy to see Lady around, still drying your hair with the towel as you went down the stairs.

“See? Someone who has a bit of common sense.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish as she gestured towards you.

“You know where you are, Lady. ‘Common sense’ isn’t much of a thing in this household.” You greeted her by quickly blowing her a kiss while passing by, making your way towards the couch where Vergil was quietly reading.

“Ey, you’re hurtin’ my feelings like that.” Dante put one of his hands over his heart, laughing alongside you as you kept on your way. “But fine. I’ll give ya that, Lady. So, what’s up? What job do you wanna throw at me this time?”

“I am not throwing it at you.” And there it was: you could always see when Dante stroke a nerve when Lady got defensive and with that fiery stare on her multicolored eyes. “If you wanna do it, great, if you don’t, I can deal with it myself just fine. I’m here to be a good friend since you can barely afford all that pizza you keep stuffing yourself with!”

As you sat by Vergil’s side, you both exchanged a telling glare. Just like you, Vergil was used to observing people. Granted, he didn’t know Lady as much as Dante or even you, but he did know her since he was very young. That fiery, easy-to-anger personality had been there since they first met at the Temen-ni-gru – and Vergil argued it was one of Lady’s traits that would never change.

Something he was quite pleased with, if he had to be honest with himself. It was a good trait for a human demon hunter like her. Dante always praised human’s hearts and particularly their love and empathy – Vergil praised their burning anger that made them unconquerable in the direst of circumstances.

“Jeez, alright, alright, don’t shoot me!” Dante raised his hands as if he was at gunpoint, making you wheeze quietly. Vergil side-eyed you for a while – half judging, half holding his own laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Humpf.” Lady rolled her eyes and took a slice of pizza from the box resting on the desk, pointing at Dante with it right after. “You know I wouldn’t bring you something if it wasn’t important.”

“Actually, you would.” With those words, Dante rested his arms crossed on the table – all the while, you and Vergil watched it all as if it was a show. Who needed a TV when you had those two? “But you’re bein’ too dodgy ‘bout it, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

“I got a call from a priest in a city nearby.” Lady’s answer was uncharacteristically quiet, followed by a bite from the pizza while she seemed pensive and in any hurry to chew it. “I’ve done some jobs there, know the guy, he’s nice. All the times he called me, it was always a quick, good-paying job. He said some weird things have been happening at the cathedral for the last couple of weeks.”

“Not to sound mean, but there’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ at churches.” Dante’s eyes carried a bit of skepticism: ‘weird things’ didn’t always entail a job for the Devil May Cry – and it usually ended with all of you hunting a rogue raccoon or something.

“I know. But this guy, he doesn’t get scared easy, ok? He’s one of those types of priests who’ll try to shoot down a couple of demons with a shotgun and, if that doesn’t work, he gives me a call.” Those words, though, made you and the Spardas raise your eyebrows. Indeed, it was a rare type of priest, but a good one to keep as acquaintance. “He said the cathedral is increasingly quiet, even from noises outside, with occasional distant noises that are not done by any of those who live there. After it all started, the other priests reported having weird nightmares, of being chased by something in the dark, inside the cathedral – this thing whispering things they can’t understand. Alright if it happened to one or two, but soon all of them started waking up in the middle of the night with similar nightmares – and, catch this, the higher ups of the clergy didn’t tell the common priests about it, but they all reported the very same dream.” Those words caught everyone’s attention. Vergil finally closed his book and leaned forward, paying attention to Lady’s retelling of the priest’s misfortunes. “The priest has been trying to figure out what’s going on, but some old books appear to go missing from the library, only to re-appear as if nothing has happened. Some books are missing pages, something that never happened before. He also said the inside of the cathedral has been getting darker and darker as the weeks go by. As if something is approaching – his words, not mine.”

Vergil immediately furrowed his brows and seemed to turn into an ice sculpture right by your side. You risked a glance, finding him with his usual dark aura – pensive, somber and quiet; hunter’s eyes showing themselves in a matter of seconds.

“Rare are the creatures in Hell in search for knowledge…” He muttered loud enough for his brother and Lady to turn their attention to him. “But those who do, are usually among the worst. Haunting noises, torn books, nightmares, dead silence and total darkness…”

“What? You think those Hell Piranhas came out of their pit?” Dante’s question had a bit of fun in the words, but his eyes were serious and he didn’t allow his lips to smile.

“Could be. Could also be a demon trying to mimic them to hide something else.”

“Hell Piranhas?” You and Lady didn’t need a cue to ask at the very same time. Neither of you had ever heard of that – and both of you had heard of a lot.

“This is not their name, but it is how Dante calls them since we were kids.” Vergil almost sighed in response.

“How we both called ‘em. Mister smart-pants over here isn’t that much better than lil’ ol’ me.” Dante winked at both of you, making you giggle quietly in return. “They’re kinda like illusion demons, but they like stayin’ in the darkness and gatherin’ knowledge. Usually work for someone bigger, though.”

“And even if they don’t, they swallow up all their knowledge and that is dangerous in itself. Afterwards, they feed from the victims they have been toying for so long.” Vergil continued Dante’s thought, ignoring his brother’s previous words. The more you didn’t think about what Dante had said about him, the better – for Vergil couldn’t deny it. “They hunt in packs, and the more victims, the more powerful they become. Some call them the Pit Deceivers, others call them the Lie Weavers…”

“You call them Hell Piranhas.” You concluded bluntly, making Vergil stare at the horizon with emptiness in his eyes – he could say all he wanted, flex all his demonic knowledge, you heard the Piranhas and now you’d never forget it.

“I never heard of them.” Lady had her eyebrows furrowed, searching her memory for some story like that.

“They either don’t leave the pit that much or not many humans survive to tell the story. That’s why.” Dante pointed at a great, old book Vergil had left on one of the tables a long time ago and now it was its official resting place. “You can find it only in the likes of the Codex Daemonica.”

“So either we have them around, or it’s something else. Something bigger. Right?” As you asked, Vergil only agreed with his head as the attentions turned to you. “Or something mimicking the Piranhas.” And Vergil had to sigh at your addition. He would never have peace again. “The mimic or the master, what kind of demon would the Piranhas answer to? If they are that obscure, I take it their existence is more of a niche knowledge in Hell rather than a common information.”

“On that, you are correct…” Vergil murmured in response, falling back into his pensive demeanor. You knew he would be lost for a while.

“See? Good thing I brought this for you, then.” Lady waved dismissively at Dante, but you could sense a little edge in her playful voice. Dealing with big things was fine, same as dealing with cruel demons and the ones that played the big-scary-one persona. Unknown demons were another kind of monster – one only Dante and Vergil used to deal with. “Plus, they always pay well.”

“Eh, I won’t be seein’ much of that money, if I know ya well.” Dante scoffed, having a small smile hidden in the corner of his lips; his tone and demeanor, though, were quite somber and you knew the red devil was taking it seriously.

“If you don’t mind, Dante, I would like to take over this one.” Vergil finally declared while getting up from the couch. “I know some of the hellish creatures who might make use of the Weavers or mimic them.”

“Fine for me, I’m needin’ some time to rest.” Dante sighed, but looked right back at you while Vergil rested his book on the big Devil May Cry desk. “But I’m gonna feel a lot better with someone around to keep an eye on ‘im, pretty thing.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on letting you guys deal with this all by yourselves anyway.” You got up from the couch, immediately receiving a glare from Vergil. “I’m going, blue devil, whether you want it or not. I want to get acquainted with these Piranhas.”

Vergil only closed his eyes, letting out the longest and most regretful sigh you ever heard in your life.

And there you were – although Vergil lost track of you quite a while ago. He knew the stirrings rippling through his heart when you were in danger; and being the fierce human you were, Vergil wasn’t worried about having you search for the demons in the cathedral.

There was, though, a slight uneasiness. That voice echoing in the darkest parts of his soul, it always came as an omen – causing nothing but destruction, inside or outside of himself. Vergil never could really say which one would be, but both were devastating.

“Veeeeergil…”

His steps came to a dry halt in the middle of the cathedral. The night outside the colorful stained-glass windows was pitch black, robbing the colors of their warmth and light – the fire on the candles, long dead in that cold night. The whisper that crept to his ears, like stark chalk on a chalkboard, dragged itself through the marble floor and took a hold of his soul in its clutches.

It was a different kind of sound – different from the ones inside himself, calling him to the darkness. It was from the outside… The Lie Weavers. Slowly coming up, finding him as their next victim. He was close to one of the places they were certainly lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for someone they could consume.

Vergil never feared the darkness. Tightening his grip around Yamato, his steps resumed his way, approaching the places in the cathedral the faint light of the night could barely touch. Those demons should have known their end was near, and he was the harbinger of their demise – he expected all kinds of trickery, of resistance, of fight from them.

He did not expect to hear a familiar voice, filled with uncertainty.

“Vergil…?”

Halting his steps once more, this time his silvery eyes lost their predatorial gaze as his heart jumped in his chest – even if for a slight second.

“Mother?”

His answer was but a whisper before he was swallowed by darkness.

When engaging with illusion demons, one should be aware of not falling into their element: when engulfed by it, those demons were more powerful than expected, able to subdue even the strongest of foes. Breaking from their control required mental and emotional discipline rather than brute force.

It was a slight second – a foolish slip from his human soul, disarmed by the trickery of Eva’s voice – and Vergil was surrounded by a sea of darkness and turmoil. His heart stirred with anger towards himself for being such a child, a vulnerable stupid child, tricked by a puppet of something his heart missed so much.

Eva was long dead. There was no demon able to bring her back. And he would never see her again. All that logic was tossed aside in a spark of a second by his stupid human heart, trembling upon hearing her speak his name again. Granted, Vergil only heard his mother in his dreams, barely remembering how her voice sounded in reality, and this time he heard outside himself – but he should have seen it coming. Illusion demons, trickster demons, cruel demons… They all relied on the barely closed scars inside his damned human soul.

Vergil could always count on them to re-open those wounds, making him bleed as much as he did on the floor of that cursed cemetery so many years ago – and he was a fool to fall for it after he had been through so much.

“Vergil… Can you hear me…?”

“I can, you damned deceiver. You can stop these theatrics – mimicking my dead mother will not affect me.” His voice cut through the dark like the sharpest of ice, his predatorial gaze back into his silver eyes.

“I… Don’t understand you, son. I cannot find you.” Her voice had a tinge of sorrow and desperation – but it was exactly like Eva’s voice. Vergil remembered it with a tinge of gold, probably a result of the haze of nostalgia, but today it was grounded and melancholic – perhaps, that was how Eva had always sounded… He just didn’t remember it. “I can’t find you. You aren’t home.”

“I haven’t been home for a long while.” Vergil didn’t even try to hide the growl that raised from his chest as he argued with that creature. He was used to having a puppet of his mother parading in front of him to hurt his human soul even more, but that was already getting on his nerves. Taunting him about the fact his mother ran to find him that fateful night wasn’t part of the usual games those filthy demons played – and to say they were honing his wrath was an understatement. “And I will never be back.”

“I… I cannot see you, Vergil. Where are you…? Why…?” He could hear the weeping in her voice, faint sobbing while the desperation made her words tremble. Vergil raised his head in the darkness, holding his own heart not to quiver: she wasn’t real and it was all a gimmick to affect him. He would not be affected. He was stronger than that. “Why couldn’t I save you? Those demons they… They hurt you, didn’t they? Oh, my child! My son! They hurt you and I could do nothing! I couldn’t be your mother!”

“Enough with this, filthy, hellish creature!” His voice finally exploded from his chest, roaring in the dark and echoing through the void, finding only silence. “You have no right to desecrate my mother’s memory like this! Shut your putrid mouth and stop with your rancid lies!”

The glint of the Yamato being unsheathed made the darkness recoil for a split second, only to envelop the Dark Slayer once more. His grip was tight, his eyes fiercely looking for his first opponent to direct a very well-placed judgement cut that could end all those creatures with just one swing of his hand. Vergil had enough and all the patience he carried in his being wouldn’t be enough to stop him from overkilling those demons – he just had to know where to direct his wrath.

“Don’t say those words, Vergil… You are not… Not like this.” Her voice still trembled, and his hand was still certain around Yamato. Vergil knew quite well at that state he was a weapon of mass destruction, he just had to find his opponent. His soul was screaming for him to do that, to put a stop to all that mockery. “You are good… You are my son.”

Vergil would have sliced that demon into a thousand million pieces without flinching, even if it took the form of his mother – but his eyes widened as a soft, warm hand touched his face. In all those years being taunted by demons, being tricked and mocked, seeing so many puppets of Eva, Sparda and Dante, none of them had touched him… And none of them genuinely felt like them.

It had been so many lost years he hadn’t felt his mother’s touch – last time, she could cup his entire face, thumb lovingly caressing his innocent eyebrows, but now her thumb could only reach his cheekbones. Nevertheless, it felt like her: not like a golden, nostalgic lost memory of how she felt, but exactly like Eva’s hands, even with the slight roughness of her continuous gardening.

“It took me so long to find you… I am so sorry.”

“You are not my mother.”

“Don’t say that.” Her answer was a sorrowful whisper, her thumb now carefully caressing his sharp cheekbone. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to move, convincing himself all of that wasn’t real and not allowing his heart to sway – forcing his arms to remain frozen by his side, fighting the urge to embrace her. Reminding himself: his mother was dead, killed while trying to save him, a long time ago, and nothing could bring her back. “Your heart hasn’t hardened as much as not to recognize me. You…” Her voice once more became soft, as if trying to do the same with his soul. “You are not a monster… You are my son, my Vergil.”

With those words, Eva’s hand was finally met with a tear – melting the ice from those silvery eyes.

There was an impending storm rumbling inside your chest.

Whenever that turmoil took ahold of your heart, you knew Vergil was in trouble. You had just finished checking your side of the cathedral, finding some things out of the ordinary but no demons, when the waves became aggressive in your chest. Your steps were already taking you to meet him, but you found yourself walking even hastier – the sound, though, eaten by the shadows that seemed to only grow around you.

Neither of you had calm seas of feelings: they usually raged like a maelstrom of emotions you could barely get through without some destruction – be it internal or external. But there was a certain note of melancholy and desperation in your heart at that moment that made you know Vergil was hurting – and that hurting, you knew quite well.

It was almost ironic how you apparently despised each other at the beginning, but after a while you came to understand; that aversion was there because you, in a certain way, were a mirror of each other. You could see in him the traits in your soul you disliked the most, and Vergil did see in you the same thing – those traits, however, were the same ones that brought you together, and made both you and Vergil feel seen and understood for the first time in your lives.

He didn’t judge your sins, as you didn’t judge his. To your eyes, he was never a monster, and to his, you could never be as crooked as you thought you were. You found each other in imperfection and, in that, you managed to talk and feel on the same level – after that, every feeling of admiration, care and love was easy to blossom.

You understood that storm, that thunder rumbling inside your chest at that very moment. You could feel it exactly the way he felt – and you knew Vergil needed help… Even if he would never say so himself.

You couldn’t hear or see him, though. You found yourself exactly at his area of patrol in the cathedral, but there was no clue as where your blue devil had gone – and for him to completely disappear, imposing presence and all, was quite an achievement in itself. The air was stiff, heavy as if the windows had never been opened, eating up any sound from the inside and the outside. The darkness was heavier than the one you had previously patrolled, shadows allowing only a few glimpses of the opulent decoration and the path in front of you – although, you couldn’t see more than a few meters beyond your feet.

If you couldn’t trust your sight or your hearing to find him, you could trust your heart: the storm would guide you. Closing your eyes, you allowed your feelings to take over, following with your footsteps in the direction you could hear his soul calling.

Those shadow creatures wouldn’t be able to hide him from you: no matter what happened or where you found yourselves, you would always be able to feel Vergil’s presence and find him in the darkest of hours.

And as the thunder in your chest cracked violently, your feet came to a halt and you opened your eyes.

Right in front of you, there was only darkness. Not like in the shadows that took the cathedral little by little, but pitch-black darkness, that no light could cast aside. To enter it would mean to be completely bare: vulnerable, lost, without guidance, naked – but the screaming in your soul made it very clear Vergil was in there.

Contrary to your lover, you were afraid of the dark. You always preferred to have a little light by your side, for you never knew what could be lurking alongside you, ready to pounce and drag you to certain suffering and death. You protected yourself by being forever vigilant, as you always did – a trait that exhausted you, yes, but luckily, in the last few years, you had Vergil around to keep a light by you when your body started giving out.

For that reason, you would never fear entering the darkness for him.

And with a deep breath, your bold steps took you inside the dark.

Your feet were cold, bare, stumbling over a sticky floor. Even if your eyes could see only darkness, you felt the freezing air of that night slicing your skin: you were shirtless and something was hurting… Oozing. The cold wind mixed with a faint warmness that leaked from the open wounds on your skin.

Blood. You were bleeding.

Your arms immediately wrapped around you – those scars, they were showing. They never showed before.

Running your hands quickly over your body, you could feel the warm blood slipping through your fingers; some wounds barely holding themselves closed while others still poured as in the day they were created.

That was the version of yourself you used to fiercely hide. None of those wounds were physical, none of them could be seen… But whenever you looked in the mirror, you saw them there, under your skin, under your soul, quietly resting until you couldn’t hide them anymore.

“You are lost…”

It was always the same voice, of something dark, something inside you that could break your soul if you didn’t shove it back into the darkness like you always did. That was why you were afraid; that was why Vergil always kept a faint glow by your side whenever you couldn’t hold yourself together. The dark was dangerous to you – to both of you.

“You are lost without me…”

“I can survive quite well without you…!” You growled to the darkness, keeping that part of yourself at bay. The part that gave in to the pain, that bathed in the blood and didn’t want to get up… And the part that would bathe and rise in rage, making you survive at great cost to those around you.

You were past that. And you didn’t need that to survive. You didn’t have to survive, you could live.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

“Vergil!” Your scream was a roar in the dark, looking for the one you plunged into the darkness to find. You wouldn’t give in to the trickery of those Piranhas – and you would get Vergil out of there.

They would learn they shouldn’t fear only the son of Sparda: they should also fear you.

“You think you can find him…?” After the mischievous ethereal voice questioned, you heard a giggle rippling around your feet as you stumbled on the sticky floor to find your lover. “You think you are that good? You think you aren’t a monster?”

You furrowed your brows, doing your best to ignore the voices. You knew it was that part inside of you that always taunted how broken you were, how imperfect your soul was. For the longest time you believed there was nothing good in you, nothing to save you from a life of loneliness, until you crossed paths with Vergil.

He was broken too – and he would never judge the things you did to survive your lethal wounds.

“Vergil! Can you hear me?! I’m here to find you!”

“How chivalrous, how heroic! What are you trying to accomplish?” The giggles pooled around your feet, threatening to drag you inside that pool of viscous darkness. “Trying to prove yourself? You’re never going to be perfect. You’re a black sheep, an outcast, remember? The likes of you aren’t heroes.”

“Oh, I’m no hero…” You growled back, fighting against the things trying to pull you back; fighting against the pain of the freezing cold and warmness of blood. “I’m a fucking fighter. You’re messing with the wrong kind of monster, fucking Hell Piranhas.”

“Piranhas…?” A faint whisper in the dark broke whatever control those things were trying to have over your body, starting at your feet. It was Vergil’s whisper – followed by a louder speaking tone. “Y/n! I can feel you, where are you?!”

“Trying to find you!” You screamed back, immediately dragging your feet towards Vergil. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel where he was – and there was nothing those demons could do against that.

The darkness seemed to shift for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you saw a faint, ghostly pale glow in the dark – almost imperceptible, but your heart knew, you could finally see Vergil.

And, in return, he could see you. Moving his feet, Vergil dragged heavy shackles through the floor, screeching in a horrid, soul scratching sound as he willed his body to move towards you. You could hear him grunting with the effort, another set of chains being dragged as Vergil moved his arms – slowly, but surely, wearing all of his strength to get to you.

You felt the viscous ripples of the floor creeping up your legs, almost on your knees, doing their best to pull you away – back into the darkness, back to the taunting voices, to the doubt, the hurt, the self-loathing.

“Vergil! Let me hear your voice! You’re still there, right?!”

“Yes. I am always here.” His answer came with grunts of effort, barely above the noise of the chains screeching around him.

The darkness shifted again, and his form became even more visible, as yours did to him – followed by a scream that rumbled in his chest, Vergil managed to get even closer. That made something spark inside yourself, that thundering storm breaking in your soul cracking in a scream that broke the insidious tentacles holding you back and making you lunge forward.

Once again, the glow you diffused only to each other seemed to get stronger as the darkness wavered.

“Y/n…” He growled once more, the shackles screaming on the floor as he reached out to you.

“Vergil…!” You reached out in return, barely making out the form of his fingers in the dark.

As you were almost touching each other’s hands, the heavy, muffling darkness faltered once more. You could finally see one another, as you were in that godforsaken place.

Vergil was shirtless, his body covered in wounds – new and old – bleeding profusely. His silvery eyes were red, sunken in deep shadow, surrounded by a deep purple mist on his dry skin. You could see his bones under his pale skin covered in so many lacerations you wouldn’t even know where to start healing him. His knuckles were battered, showing the flesh underneath, as well as his wrists covered by heavy iron shackles – wounds from fighting against them for so long. His hands were still long and elegant, but bony and covered in bruises.

You had never seen Vergil so hurt, so broken, so… Vulnerable.

In return, his eyes took in shock the vision of you: as shirtless as him, as battered and wounded as he was. Even if not locked in the shackles he wore for so long in Hell, you walked barefoot leaving a trail of blood behind you. Those scars, those wounds, those bruises… He knew they were there, but he had never seen those. You looked weak and tired, bloodshot eyes under dry skin, as if you hadn’t slept in ages… And those things you fought so much to conceal, now crystal clear in front of him.

Those were the scars you carried inside yourselves. The wounds you had to fight against every day – that you had to try to heal, even if sometimes it seemed impossible. The things you would never show, but, somehow, you managed to sense it in each other… Now you could see it, clear as a bright night.

And, even if you wouldn’t admit to yourselves, those were the very same breaking thunders that would keep you moving – fiercely fighting, fiercely surviving.

As you took in each other’s internal selves, Vergil’s silvery eyes finally found yours.

A loud thundering noise shook the floor underneath your feet twice, as your hearts rumbled alongside the devastating sound. You lunged forward, holding Vergil’s hand as if your life depended on it. Never breaking your eye contact, Vergil held your hand with the strength you would expect of the legendary Dark Slayer. You made each other stronger, and there was nothing that could come between you now.

His shackles immediately screeched back, pulling Vergil violently away from you. At the same time, you were grabbed by the viscous darkness – your knees, your legs, your abdomen, your arms. It pulled you back with vicious strength, doing its best to drag you away from him – back into the darkness.

“Don’t let me go!” You screamed back, tightening your grip around his bony hand.

“I will never let go!” He growled, doing the same, trying to drag his body forward – failing to notice you willed yourself towards him as he pulled you into his arms. Those silvery eyes never moved away from yours.

“You are lost…! Lost…!”

The voices chanted and screeched around you, doing their best to drag you apart. For a moment, your hand slipped and you let out a desperate scream, hurting your lungs as you were almost pulled back into the void. Vergil’s cry resembled a roar as he willed his body to move and tightened his grip in a way he didn’t hold even Yamato.

He hadn’t held his brother’s hand once. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, he would hold you even if that damned the both of you to the darkest pits of Hell.

“Can’t you see…? Can’t you see that…?”

“I am lost…!” You barked back to the voices, still staring into Vergil��s eyes, trying to catch your breath while your lungs stung as if you were inhaling a thousand knives.

As Vergil looked into your eyes, though, he knew exactly what you were going to say – and he could safely say it was the very same thing he struggled to find the words to.

“Without you.” His answer came in a dark tone, ragged from the effort he too made to be able to hold your hand.

The thunder rumbled twice again – the voices shrieked and you suddenly found yourselves being launched into each other’s arms as the forces that bind you broke into a million pieces.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding your head close to his chest, as you wrapped yours around his waist, keeping him as close as you could. His head rested on top of yours, and you kept your eyes closed – washing away the blood above his heart with the tears that streamed down your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me.” Vergil’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky, somber but reassuring. You had never been so vulnerable in front of him – and even upon seeing you like that, his reaction was to take you in his arms, to welcome you. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“And I’m not afraid of your darkness.” You tightened your arms around his cold, bony body as you felt tears running through your hair. “I can see beyond your glimmer, and I’m not afraid of what’s in the dark.” Your voice shook as you took a deep breath and Vergil’s arms held you even closer – his body shaking with the tears falling from his eyes. “It’s you. And I’m never afraid of you.”

“Neither am I of you.”

His answer was but a whisper – a whisper enough to break the darkness into a memory to be kept away in the deepest pits of Hell.

I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

“You killed the Piranhas from Hell with the power of love?”

Vergil wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or die. Or both.

Probably both.

The whole crew was there as you and Vergil never came back from the job as quickly as expected – and when you did, it looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

The priest was more than happy with the result of your work – even though you never discovered why the Weavers decided to come out of hiding nor what they wanted. The congregation was just happy they were gone and the whole reason behind it would be a long-term thing for the Devil May Cry to work on – or to keep an eye on; maybe something bigger was approaching.

You and Vergil didn’t feel like going back to the shop, though. When you were hurt physically, things were very much ok to deal with, but when the wounds were emotional… You needed time for yourselves.

Unlike his brother, Vergil was a little more responsible with his money – and you, a lot more than the two. You managed to find somewhere to spend a few nights… Which involved the both of you talking out everything you felt and saw. It was harrowing at first, something neither of you were versed in and honestly were terrified of, but it eventually brought you even closer together.

So, to say you had defeated the Lie Weavers with the power of love was something that killed Vergil inside.

And you could almost see his internal self, glaring at you with a ‘really, after all of this you say this kind of foolishness’ look in his sad, silvery eyes, as Lady stared at both of you and made the question everyone was thinking.

“Yep. Power of love, it’s a curious thing.” You shrugged, making Vergil physically groan by your side while Dante slapped his table with a huge grin on his face.

“Make a one man weep, make another man sing! Hell yeah, Back To The Future, babe!” He winked back at you as you smiled in response.

“Of all the people you could end up dating, Vergil…” Trish sat on Dante’s desk, crossing her long legs while sporting a devilish smile on her rosy lips. It was interesting how her voice could never really sound like Eva’s. “It had to be someone who references the same songs as your brother.”

“Alas, fate plays many games…” Vergil rolled his eyes, but as they rested on you, there was a vulnerability you saw only once in that pitch black darkness. “But it is kind enough to give us what we need.”

No one ever really understood what he meant, but Dante was the only one who managed to see something inside his brother’s silvery eyes that could only reflect in yours – and that made him genuinely smile.

Indeed, you would never be the romance of a fairy tale book or a romantic comedy – but you could see what lied beyond each other’s scars; taking a glimpse at the worst of each other without fear and finding whatever light was left inside. You could understand – and that was much more than most lovers in the world would ever have.

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #vergil x reader #vergil imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #devil may music #song fic requests #cirice #cirice ghost #there aaaaare a few references to other things sprinkled here and there #the nostalgia and haziness from secular haze and ghuleh/zombie queen #but the whole Eva thing was the zombie queen nostalgia #never let go? that's from Titanic #the two thundering noises being the thundering drums from the song #the holding hands from the video from the scene that killed me in Matrix and my drawing when I was 15 y/o #seriously it's a recurring imagery in my life and I'm always ??? so it's in here too #I won't suffer alone #for some reason I sometimes sing 'I can see through the stars inside you'#and that's where the reader's 'I can see beyond your glimmer and I don't fear the dark' comes from #and that silly little ending at the shop was just a thing to tie it all together #OH! THE HELL PIRANHAS! Totally inspired by those shadow piranhas from the library planet episode in Doctor Who #the whole concept of those things just creeps me out #if some lost soul from the Ghost fandom fell here by chance or mistake do apologize #I need to tag things properly in this blog to update my masterlist forgotten in the abyss so finding it by cirice will be easier #Youtube

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sincerely-sofie · 2 months

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Imagine the guild decides to go on another expedition and stop by to visit Twig, Ark, and Opal (once they learn about her). Team Skull comes to crash the party as part of their characters, and then suddenly Opal starts SCREECHING than she’s ever screeched before. She doesn’t stop until Team Skull leaves and even tries to bite them if they get close to her.

Someone makes a comment that a baby did a better vibe check than Chatot when Team Skull first came around.

I have absolutely dreadful news.

Opal absolutely adores Team Skull, especially Skuntank. This other anon got Team Skull’s behavior around Opal 100% correct:

Team Skull actually try to clean up their act of their own volition because of Opal liking them so much. They become super uptight about being good role models for her— they might go a bit more lax when she’s not around, but every now and then one of them will be like “Nah let’s put off cleaning the house until tomorrow”, then there will be a few moments of silence before they all say in unison “Opal deserves better uncles than we’re being right now :(“ and then they all get out the cleaning supplies and get to work.

When Opal’s older I could see her going through a rebellious streak and hanging out with Team Skull more, trying to get them to tell her about their glory days, and all three of them being like HOW ABOUT INSTEAD YOU STAY IN SCHOOL AND EAT YOUR VEGETABLES

#I need to post that one fic where Skuntank finds out that Twig and Darkrai are a thing and just about soils himself #because he learns what Ark’s actual species name is #he finds out from Ark himself and then books it from the marketplace to Twig as she’s chilling at their house #and then just about kicks in the front door because he’s worried about Twig #shadow baby au #pmd skuntank #PMD Zubat #PMD koffing #pmd team skull #sofie answers asks #stuff by sofie #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokémon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers #pmd eos #pmd #pmd sky #pmd2

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expectiations · 13 days

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Thinking of how "left me like a book on a shelf" is from River's POV and therefore does not mean it is the entirety of the story much like how "the Doctor does not and has never loved me" was uttered from a River who was grieving.

Like the Doctor could have spent a long time putting the TARDIS in stationary orbit around the Library. The Doctor could have puttered about with the Library from years before it was shut down to ensure that everything would go smoothly while doing his best not to change a single thing. And on days when it is too hard, he just stares at the Library from his perch on the TARDIS door. Waiting, hoping, thinking. Trying to find a way out for her. For them.

And he does!

He finds a hundred ways to get her out of the data core. But...something always goes wrong. It's somehow never good enough. She's back, but she's not entirely there.

So he scratches it out, slaps himself, and tries again.

And again.

But his plans always fail.

But they don't. Not really. His plans could work. Could have worked. His beloved Sexy would help him. She'd always help him when it comes to her Water. But he was too scared. Too frightened of failure. Because one single mistake. One. Single. Mistake. And she's gone. He can never get her back. Forever.

So he runs. And runs. And runs. Until centuries has gone by and companion come and gone. Until he met a younger, more alive version of her. And then they had Darillium. And oh the joys of wonderful joys, what a night that was.

But things end. Even for him. They had to part ways again. Had to say goodbye. So he tries again. Picks up what his previous self had shelved. He tries. Oh how he tries.

But still. That fear exists. Is it worth it? Can he finally accomplish what he'd started a literal lifetime ago?

(He doesn't.)

Off on another lifetime with a new body. He's a...she now? Oh and shorter! Wow. That's new! I wonder what Ri–

On the rare moments she allows herself to succumb to sleep she goes to their his her study. She takes a moment to take everything in. It's unrecognizable now – the study that once was theirs filled with warmth and laughter and-

Every single space was taken. Covered by plans of plans of plans spanning...two...lifetimes now. Sexy still kept it just as it was the last time he she had been in there.

Their His Her favorite throw was still where it was – on their his her favorite corner of their his her favorite couch.

Nothing had changed but everything had changed.

She curled up and buried her face hoping it would still smell of her (It did. They never knew how it worked but somehow her smell still lingered anyway. They thought they were hallucinating at first but other people had been able to smell it too. Sometimes they forget but Sexy also lost her too).

She was a he again. The same face they had four lifetimes ago. The same face who was the first to keep the memory of their meeting.

But wh- what? Why? How? Is this it? Is this the body that finally brings her back home? A fitting act really. He put her in there and so he'll also put her out of there.

But... she wasn't there. Nothing was there. Nothing but chunks of debris and ashes and smelted...somethings.

When he blinked his eyes open (when had he closed them?), Donna's worried face greeted him. He blinked again and blinked. Nothing changed. Everything has changed. He had waited for far too long. He had made her wait for far. too. long. He feared of failing her but now he actually has failed her.

Everything was bland now. Was it just him or is everything a bit...on the side of grey? Donna looks at him like he might break. (He won't. He's a Time Lord. Time Lords don't break.) Even Sylvia had taken to treating him a bit more kindly.

He goes off alone with Sexy. His return to the Noble-Temple (Temple-Noble) household becomes fewer and further in between. One day he finds himself in Venice. Wonderful Venice. His Pond and her Roman (who wasn't yet a Roman) had gone here. There were vampires. And running and –

River?

No silly. River wasn't there.

He blinked. And blinked again. Made sure the sky was blue and the clouds still fluffy white. But was that his leather jacket that just whizzed by past him? Wait. Hold on. That was... Was that? Oh no. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Did they? No. They couldn't have.

But of course, apparently they did. Because that was actually his leather jacket wearing self that just passed by him again(?) tugging along his very-much-not-dead wife along running from... Hold on. Why are they running? What- Who's shooting at her?!

#cues in iconic doctor who intro lmao #hi don't mind me. i'm just being my melodramatic PMS self #it's reaaally wonky i think but argh whatever just spitting out my grief and frustration. come to think of it i find words flow easier when #i am upset lol? hmmm what does that say about my high school self who used to write chapters with 1k as minimum.#it's difficult dealing with people who simply say river is just another one of the doctor's marriages so this is me dealing with it #i had trouble knowing where to stop and then thought OH why not put nineriver in but make it Post-Library River???#lmao and i ended it there because i needed to stop (i have 3 – THREE – exams tomorrow)#dw musings #that turned into a sort of fic ish #doctorriver #doctor x river #doctor who #tia talks tish #river song #eleventh doctor #tenth doctor #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor #ninth doctor #the doctor's wife #tardis #what other thing can i tag my sort of fic #tia writes tish #post-library river song #yowzah #i pond queue #11th doctor #12th doctor #10th doctor

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rowanisawriter · 1 month

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wip whenever

tagged by ten thousand people over the course of the past few weeks where i haven’t had anything to share so now i’m going to subject you all to wyll/shadowheart from a prompt fill i’ve been picking at instead of writing my exchange fic like i’m supposed to…

Once upon a time, a princess. Perhaps. She is as quiet as one, as secretive. Hidden away in some internal world, or maybe trapped. Wyll can’t tell exactly how much of her quiet mystery is due to her devotion to her goddess or something else. Whenever he tries to ask, he gets a simple little smile and no explanations. No reasoning as to why she’s whispering to herself, sitting on her heels at camp, far enough from the light of the campfire that the edges of its orange glow barely touch her. No hint on the strange and all consuming injury on her hand that distracts her. No closer to understanding the thoughts that go through her head, strange and beyond his imagination, but he wants to try.

He begins with small gestures, the ones he’s read about in books, the ones they used to read to him back in the city when he was still a duke’s son. He hands her a cup of vinegary wine they found in some ruin or another, a flower plucked from the roadside, a shiny flat rock perfect for skipping across a still lake. She always accepts gingerly, as if expecting a trick along with the treat.

“I just like seeing a little smile on your face,” he tells her earnestly.

She starts to believe him, he can tell by how her smile begins to widen, but then she clutches her injured hand close to her chest and turns away. A princess in peril, locked away in the tower of her mind, and the dragon that traps her within. He feels something in his chest expand at the sight of her pain. Lucky for them, he’s a hero. Saving maidens in distress is what he does best.

#idk who out there (outside of the galeheart server lol) has ever even thought about wyll/shadowheart #but i for one am rolling around in the mud of Prince Charming and princess in peril #maybe a play on fairy tale idk #it looks ok so far idk where this will go #also someone fuckin slap me i NEED to finish this exchange fic #and my useless boomer mother in law is stayin the weekend with us so who knows when i’ll find the energy to write while ignoring her #republican propaganda and veiled antivax musings #less than a year and we move so fuckin far we’ll never clap eyes on a republican again god i hope i last that long #anyway LOL #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #wip whenever #my writing

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youchangedmedestiel · 1 month

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Ask Game!

25 & 29

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?

I don't remember feeling upset as I wrote something. At least not yet. My writing actually helps me process things and deal with feelings. I tend to write happy endings but if somehow I end up writing a fic that doesn't, then maybe I'll be upset. If I manage to write about widower arc Dean one day, I'll probably be upsed, maybe that's why I don't write about him (yet).

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

It's a fic that happens after 8x22, one chapter is actually a fic I read and inspired me to write more about it and then it turned into something with more than 40k words. It was one of the first fic I wrote. I was experimenting my writing actually and words just kept flowing at me. I was just trying, okay? I just finished the show I had to let this all out and I was exploring their relationship. Anyway, don't judge me please. The scene I'm sharing with you happens in Dean's room at the bunker, there you go:

“Cas, what are you doing here?” Dean asks frowning, clearly still mad at Castiel’s reaction toward the flirty waitress. Castiel stands up and presses play on the stereo to start the song “The Rain Song” from Led Zeppelin. Dean looks at the stereo with his eyebrows still frowning, not understanding what is happening, since Castiel doesn’t answer his question.

“I need to tell you something, Dean.” Castiel starts smiling, walking toward Dean, while Dean just stands there, where he is looking at him. “I know you like this band and this song. This is why I chose it. And I know you know the lyrics but please listen to them. You will understand what I want to tell you.” Dean tilts his head and parts his lips, surprised. Even though, he doesn’t remember all the lyrics, not remembering every exact word, he knows what it is about. Plus, with the worry face Castiel makes, Dean understands what is happening. This is scaring the hell out of him but it is happening and he can’t stop it, he doesn’t really want to anyway. So, he smiles at him.

“Cas” he starts, wanting to apologize for doubting him with the waitress, but Castiel stops him instantly.

“Listen, Dean.” During the first lyrics, Castiel comes closer to Dean and extend one hand toward him. “I would like to dance with you,” Castiel offers. Dean hesitates while staring at him and puts his hand in Castiel’s. Both smiles as they lean in at the same time. Dean removes his hand from Castiel’s and puts his hands on his lower back, while Castiel puts his arms around Dean’s neck. When the first lyrics are sang, he rests his chin on Dean’s shoulder, while they dance slowly together.

“Listen,” he tells Dean again, whispering in his ear.

It is the springtime of my loving

The second season I am to know

You are the sunlight in my growing

So little warmth I've felt before

It isn't hard to feel me glowing

I watched the fire that grew so low, oooh, oh

“You helped me grow. You changed me, Dean.” Castiel starts when the first lyrics are over and only the melody stays, moving back his head to stare into Dean’s eyes while he cups his head with his hands. “You taught me so many things, you taught me how to feel. You taught me about free will. And I believed in it, I have faith in it, I have faith in you. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. I never used you, Dean. I never will.” Castiel says finally calling back to what happened in Dean’s first fantasy.

“Cas –“ Dean starts, swallowing his tears. “I know that now. I should have never doubted you, I’m sorry.” Dean says lowering his gaze, but Castiel lifts his head up a little bit, already missing looking into his eyes. Dean’s eyes are back staring at Castiel’s blue.

“And I’m sorry I gave you some reasons to believe I would do this to you.” Castiel’s eyes starts to be fill with tears too.

“You didn’t Cas, it’s not you. It’s me. I always think people will leave me.”

“I never will, Dean. I couldn’t. You hear me? I always come back to you at some point. When you told me that we were family, that you needed me in that crypt. You broke the hold Naomi had on me, Dean. Don’t you understand? I can’t stay away from you for too long. If I do it’s because I have no other choice and it’s to keep you safe.” Castiel’s heart is racing, carried away by the emotions invading him.

“You had a choice in Purgatory, and you chose to stay. You chose to let me leave without you.” Dean throws, remembering how hurt he felt at the time, when Castiel showed him what really happened at the gate, he even altered his own memories to avoid knowing Castiel’s left him on purpose.

“It was different I was feeling so much guilt about the Leviathans, about what I did to people, to angels and to you. I didn’t deserve to go out with you. I didn’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”

“You do, Cas. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you. I always get angry and end up hurting people I care about. Hurting you.”

“It’s not true. You are not like that. Not at all. You see yourself how our enemies sees you but they are all wrong, you too. And you do, Dean. Deserve me.” Castiel says resting his head again on Dean’s shoulder, with his face buried in his neck this time. “Now, let’s dance slowly again. I like doing that with you. And listen to the song.” Castiel smiles against Dean’s neck.

It is the summer of my smiles

Flee from me, keepers of the gloom

Speak to me only with your eyes

It is to you I give this tune

Ain't so hard to recognize, oh

These things are clear to all from time to time, ooh

Oh, oh

“You are not like you said you are, Dean. When I look into your eyes, and after all these years, all I see is the most caring human in the whole world looking back at me. You care about people, ready to risk your own life to save them. You saved the world so many times. You saved ME too.” Castiel says moving his head back again to stare into Dean’s eyes, showing how much he deeply thinks what he is telling him.

Ah, talk, talk, talk, talk

Hey!

I've felt the coldness of my winter

I never thought it would ever go

I cursed the gloom that set upon us, upon us, upon us

But I know that I love you so, ohhhh, oh

But I know that I love you so

These are the seasons of emotion

And like the wind, they rise and fall

This is the wonder of devotion

I see the torch we all must hold

This is the mystery of the quotient, quotient

Ah, upon us all, upon us all a little rain must fall

Just a little rain, oh yeah

Uhh, ooooh, yeah yeah yeah

Castiel pulls back for the third time to look at Dean again. Dean is used to it now and he knows it means Castiel still has something to tell him. “We have been through so much together, you and me. Despite or thanks to all that, today I am able to say that –“ Castiel stops taking a deep breath to put all he feels in three little words as much as possible. “I love you”. He finally confesses, letting a tear run down his cheek. Dean swallows hard and wipes it with his thumb. He guessed what Castiel wanting to tell him, knowing the song, but he needed to be sure, he needed to hear what he had to say and he needed to hear that he loves him.

“I love you too, Cas.” Dean grabs Castiel’s neck with one hand and pulls him closer. He brushes their lips together, a desperate and passionate kiss, saying ‘I love you’ in another way again. Dean is overwhelmed by Castiel’s love and kiss, not controlling what is getting out of his mouth, his emotions, his feelings for him are getting the upper hand. “My mom used to tell me that angels were watching over me. I couldn’t believe her anymore when she died. But then, I met you Cas. And you gave me faith again. You always took care of me. You always watch over me, even when I sleep.” Dean chuckles and continues his speech, more seriously, putting his heart out. “Then, I fell in love with you as I never did before. I didn’t believe I could love someone like I love you. Cas, you are the light in my life, never think otherwise. You are my angel, you always have been.” Castiel smiles fondly at Dean’s confession, feeling his heart exploding in his chest, wanting to go out of it.

“I’m all yours and you are all mine.” Castiel declares with some lust replacing the happy tears in his eyes. “The song is already finished.” Castiel observes, looking at the stereo disappointed, while the music has ended a few minutes ago, but they were too focus on each other to notice.

“The song last more than 7 minutes, Cas.” Dean reminds him, chuckling, despite he didn’t notice when it ended either.

“I know, but it’s not enough. I like dancing with you, holding you in my arms.”

“I agree, I like it too.” Dean declares smiling fondly, stroking Castiel’s jaw with one hand.

“We should do that again some time.”