I started working on The Dark of You... a very, very long time ago 😂 Life Stuff ensued and I kind of lost an entire year of my life to [undisclosed traumatic bullshit] but hopefully I'm sorta back now. This story was mostly complete 11 months ago, but always needed an epilogue to wrap things up, and now it is posted! Thank you to everyone who read, commented, and has been so supportive :)
(have to be logged in to read, freakin AI and bots)
It's soft xuexiao week on Twitter and here's one I did :) royalty Au! With prince Xiao Xingchen and his only friend Xue Yang.
*********
Xiao Xingchen watched the world pass from the window of his tower. He listens as other children played in the streets outside the walls. He heard the laughter and the cries and wishes more than anything to see it with his own eyes.
But alas, as the prince, he is not permitted to leave the castle. He must be kept safe, and he must learn to rule.
As a child his only playmates are the ones in his mind. When he gets older, his personal guard nearly dies saving his life and his son, Zichen takes his place. Xiao Xingchen likes Zichen. Zichen is not that much older than him (only 10 or so years), and he listens to his stories. (Nobody else listens to his stories.)
One day when he is 8, after his lessons when Zichen has left him alone a mop of dark hair appears on his balcony.
He doesn't scream. (He knows he should, he's knows it could be a danger and that nobody is allowed on his balcony but-)
But the mop of dark hair is on the head of a boy the same age as him.
The boy pulls himself up, turns, their eyes meet… (and oh, he thinks, he's beautiful.)
And it's the start of a beautiful friendship.
****
The years pass quickly and Xingchen is happier than he's been in years. He has a friend.
A-Yang visits nearly every day and they eat dinner together. (As he grows older, he slowly realises that what he's feeling is more than friendship, that he had let the other boy worm his way deep inside his heart.)
****
He ages too fast. His mother informs him one day of his need to marry, to have an heir…
He doesn't want an heir.
He doesn't want to marry some foreign princess.
(He doesn't want to be king)
But he's 21. He's 21 and a marriage has been arranged.
He's 21 and sitting on his balcony waiting for his friend, his only friend. (His friend whom he is in love with.)
A-Yang shows up with his usual smile and Xingchen can't stop the grin that breaks out over his face.
But the grin fades, slipping from his face and he can't hide his sadness. Not from A-Yang. Never from A-Yang, the one person who knows him best.
"I'm to be married."
He can't force himself to meet the gaze of his friend, too scared of what he'll see - or what he won't.
But a finger under his chin forces him to meet the now stormy gaze of A-Yang.
"Do you love them?"
"I don't even know them. Her. Her. I don't want to marry someone I don't know, someone I don't love, someone who isn't -"
He cuts himself off in time and walks towards the balcony rail. He grips it tight and wonders what it would have been like to be normal. To be able to see the world, to be who he wanted, to marry who he wanted….
"Someone who isn't…. Who?"
He closes his eyes. He doesn't want to ruin the friendship he has with A-Yang. If A-Yang leaves and never comes back he doesn't know what he'd do.
He just shakes his head slowly and turns his face towards the stars. (He'd give anything to be able to wander freely beneath them.)
The patter of soft steps and the scent of sweets and pastries waft towards him and engulf him. (The scent of A-Yang)
A hand comes to rest on his shoulder and the other hesitantly rests on his hip, fingers splayed. He turns his head back to A-Yang in surprise and hope dares to fill his heart. "A-Yang?"
"And if I said I've been in love with you for years? If I asked you to pack a bag and run away with me? If I asked you leave all of this behind?"
A-Yang doesn't look at him, instead keeps his eyes trained on the stars, but his grip tightens slightly and his eyes are still stormy.
Xingchen lifts a hand and gently turns A-Yang's face towards him before gently connecting their lips.
The kiss is soft, gentle hesitant. They break apart too soon. He rests his forehead against A-Yang's.
"If you asked, I wouldn't hesitate. Not with you."
A-Yang's eyes brighten and a smile he wishes he would never see fade appears. "Then come with me. Pack a bag. Run away with me. Now. Tonight."
Xingchen smiles and connects their lips again. This time when A-Yang kisses back it's much more forceful and when they both break apart they are panting and laughing.
He drags A-Yang into his rooms and pulls out a bag. "Start packing."
He pulls a second pack and starts shoving jewelry and gold into it. He throws in blankets and pillows and clothes.
And when he turns, A-Yang has another full bag thrown over this shoulder, grabs his hand and leads him towards freedom.
****
And when Zichen goes to wake the Prince the following morning he finds the room stripped and the letter on the bed and smiles.
'At least he's happy now'
He closes the door softly and returns to his post - he'll give them another few hours before he reports it to the Queen.
***
And far from the city two figures ride side by side atop horses. They both carry big packs and neither can wipe the smile from their faces.
short little Starfield drabble that popped into my head (weirdly enough..) while playing mass effect 😂
General audiences, spoilers ensue for Starfield main quest and ending!
---
Maybe they're right.
It's hard each time, her need to be honest guaranteeing the most painful reception by her once and future friends. But maybe they really are right: maybe she is more it each time through.
Each time she's broken into pieces, some of them sprinkled across the galaxy, some of them staying with her.
How many trips through before there's nothing of her left at all?
Or, how many trips until there's nothing good left of her?
Maybe this is why she keeps doing it, to prove her own humanity to herself by continuing to choose what's right, what's good.
She supposes maybe she'll ask the Hunter next time she sees him. Lurking around the spaceport in New Atlantis, or visiting the bars in Akila City again. Sticking out like a sore thumb, just waiting for his moment to be a massive pain in her ass. Again.
The past few trips through the Unity, as much as it has hurt, she's avoided closeness with her Constellation colleagues. Sam is always the hardest to maintain distance with and more than once her resolve has been broken by his casual charm. Despite herself, and despite knowing the pain she will inevitably bear, she's managed to fall for him again more often than not.
But without fail, the relentless curiosity she loves about him tears him away. He and Cora are never ones to deny the draw of the unknown.
Listlessly wandering the starfield without them, and then furthermore watching the rest of Constellation depart to seek their answers, has always lacked in appeal. Inevitably, she goes through yet again.
And so it has been, enough times that she's lost count.
For all of the Sams and Coras, the Sarahs and Barretts and Andrejas that she's known, the starborn spacefarer can only imagine how many times they are now finding themselves similarly stuck in this loop. The odds are impossibly small she'll ever encounter any of them again. She wishes she could warn them, but she knows it wouldn't work anyway.
Stepping into yet another galaxy mired in conflict, she wonders why none of the new universes she's joined aren't already sprinkled with the good of their sacrifices by the time she gets there, then realizes yet again that it's a few people versus infinity: the odds are not stacked in their favor.
Just once more; for old time's sake, she thinks, contemplating the impossibly beautiful rings of light and stars. She's exhausted. This will be her last go at it: once she's chosen the microbe or aceles, once she's helped Sysdef take the Fleet down yet again. Once she's found all the artifacts and helped constellation find the secrets of the Unity. This time, this time; she'll be done.
Vague considerations of retirement plans flit through her head as she strides up to and through the ring one more time, no hesitation in her movements. Maybe she'll get a little dream house on Nesoi, or open a restaurant in New Atlantis. See if Sergeant Yumi or Commander Tuala is single. Weird that she's never asked them that in all this time.
Once she regains consciousness, the bridge of her Guardian slowly coming into focus, instead of grav jumping to Alpha Centauri, this time she lands the ship.
She steps out onto Vecteran soil one more time. Barrett and Lin are still there, confused that she's apparently back. She should be on her way to New Atlantis with the next pieces of the artifact that will set this whole trip into motion one more time.
Neither of them seem to notice she didn't arrive in the Frontier, or that her spacesuit isn't that of a typical Dusty. They never do.
Her smile is a little crooked, it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She's about to open her mouth to respond when something happens.
Something different.
…but it's never different?
A familiar hiss of hydraulics and the Guardian VI that lands next to hers almost reminds her of the Hunter's, but he doesn't usually show up until after she's been to Neon chasing Walter's black market artifact deal.
They all watch the ship land in silence, tension in the air given the recent pirate attack. The arc around the ship almost seems to sparkle a faint robin's egg blue as it rotates around and the wings tilt to touch down.
A moment later, a starborn exits the side door, dark black Venator armor seeming to absorb all the light around it as the lone figure strides confidently down the wing.
Lin and Barrett don't know yet to draw their weapons, but she does, or at least she would, if she hadn't just gotten back and found herself unarmed once more.
Wish I'd grabbed that shitty pistol…
Her regret morphs into confusion even as she prepares herself to use solar flare, her fingers twitching in anticipation, power drawing up her body and muscles tensing. Watching the figure approach, on second thought, she decides one might describe its walk as more of a mosey, were the figure not so imposing and her hackles already raised.
What fresh hell is-
The figure stops short when it sees her, then does a quick pair of halting half steps before beginning toward her with intent, the shade withdrawing from the visor of its helmet, revealing a face.
The features are a little more scarred and weathered than she remembers, but she'd recognize those baby blues anywhere.
"Sam?" her voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper that still manages to crack into a million pieces on a single syllable.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
thinking about this fic (and Gunther, hee hee) today. I haven't written in a while, but have fond memories of writing this. soooo yeah, Gunther smut exists, should ye be looking for it. Link goes to Close to You on AO3, login req'd because fuck AI and scraping, man
It had happened so suddenly and all at once that Pharm couldn't stop him.
The memories. His memories, their memories, In's memories - they had all come rushing in, that day, the last day. His birthday. Their promise.
The broken promise.
He couldn't breath .
Pharm sits alone in the apartment where he had died - where he had shot himself with the same gun beside him now.
(Had Dean known...)
He's alone. All alone.
He's alone and he can't breathe.
All alone in this apartment with the echoes of a gunshot and screams sounding in his ears.
Alone.
He gasps and burries his head in his legs and tries to draw breath.
The anger builds so slowly he doesn't even register it at first.
He tries to focus on Dean. (Korn.)
Dean who had promised (Promises mean nothing) he'd come. He'd said he would come. (He said he'd stay with me .)
Pharm wraps his arms around his legs and shivers. He's cold and wet and the rain ( the rain… ) keeps pouring.
The pressure in his head builds and his fingers drift alignment the barrel of the gun.
It's so familiar. He can remember it all. The panic. The promise. The desperation to keep their promise.
They would be together again. Forever. (Pft. Forever. What's forever with a man who lies as easily as he draws breath )
He can't breathe.
The door handle twists and Dean (Korn !) stands there.
"Pharm!"
He finally realises why his head is pounding. It's Intouch. Intouch wanting out. Intouch forcing himself forward.
"P'Dean!" He needs to tell Dean (He needs to talk to Korn ) what's happening. Dean holds him and helps him stand.
Dean (Korn !) is holding him and looking into his eyes and maybe everything is going to be alright.
"Let's go back, let's go back to our home."
Home. Yes. Let's go-
(Home?! We are home !)
His control starts slipping faster and faster. (We are standing in the place where we both died !)
(Bastard !)
(Asshole !)
(Liar !)
His control slips and Intouch dives, and Pharm is a prisoner in his own head.
"You're a liar!"
Pharm watches through his own eyes as Dean's heart breaks. He watches the fear and pain fill his eyes and screams for Intouch to stop. (It's not Korn! Please !)
"You Bastard!"
(Please stop! Dean hasn't done anything wrong!)
Dean grips his (their?) hands. "I'm sorry!" In rips himself away and - No!
(Don't In! He loves me! Please! Please don't -)
Pharm can't do anything but scream as In dives for the gun and Dean starts to tremble, he can't do anything but watch as Dean starts to crack. (Pharm doesn't know if it is though… is it Korn? Or is it Dean? How does he know how does he know - he doesn't know-)
"What if I choose to leave you first?" In's voice - his voice - is filled with spite and pain and heartbreak…
Pharm can feel his hand raise and he pleads with In to stop. In doesn't listen staring straight at Dean (Korn ?)
The nuzzle of the gun hits his chin and Pharm can't even cry.
He thinks of his family - his mother and Phoom back in America, his new family - Korn's family….
An….
He had promised that nobody would die this time.
"I'm leaving you!"
(IN! Please !)
"Pharm!"
Pharm silently screams.
It is Dean. It's Dean. It's Dean. It's not Korn- it's Dean!
And he doesn't want to lose him.
(I'm sorry P'Dean)
He closes his eyes.
Pharm means strength but he has nothing to be strong for.
Why pretend to be strong when you're helpless?
So he abandons his strength and pleads instead.
He pleads with the heartbroken boy who died 30 years ago, he begs and he prays.
Hi! Can I give you the 14. “How did you fail a survey?” - with some Wangxian - I’ve a feeling it’ll fit my fave genius dumdum WWX!
here we go! short and sweet
********
Wei Wuxian was known for a lot of things.
He was highly intelligent, finishing top of his classes. He was kind. Offering his home out to friends in need. He was slightly eccentric, knowing for hyperfixation and obsessing over certain shows or books.
He was also forgetful, often forgetting meals or names or face. He was oblivious - to both his own feelings and others.
He was also, on occasion, incredibly stupid.
“What do you mean you think you failed it?”
Lan Zhan stared at his husband from his position on the bed as the other man paced.
“It means I think I failed it! I definitely picked the wrong answers - Lan Zhan do you think i can retake it?”
Lan Zhan looks from his husband, his Wei Ying, to the discarded laptop and back again his brows furrowing.
“Wei Ying… It was a survey.”
“I know Lan Zhan thats-”
“Wei Ying; how did you fail a survey? They are based off your opinion.”
Silence falls in the bedroom as Wei Ying stares at him.
Then he falls to the bed.
“Lan~ Zhan~”
He hides his smile before repositioning himself and pulling his husband close.
“Wei Ying, Look at me.”
His face, now pressed into his chest, shakes and Lan Zhan bends down and kisses the shell of his husband's ear. “Wei YIng~”
A pair of eyes meet his. “Sleep Wei Ying. You are exhausted.”
His husband only nods, a testimony to just how tired he is, a Lan Zhan pulls the blanket around the two of them before switching the lamp off and curled himself around his husband.
