#reruns are never the same next time;; rem

[millionsnife]

now our world is full of all kinds of colors closing my eyes i still can see the stars shine in the sky, sing their harmony flowers, they're blooming oh it's beautiful sing this song, i won't stop now sing it through, i love you the voice carries on

[death-himself]

Could You Meet Me Beyond the Grave?—Chapter 2

(previously known as Willow!Virgil)

previous next (AO3 Link)

Summary: The chapter in which Dee goes overprotective big brother mode and becomes a slight romantic cock-block

Pairings: Eventual LAMP/CALM, Remile, QPR RED

Word Count: 1,740

Warnings: Cursing, Child abuse (it’s the first paragraph in italics, you can just skip over it if that makes you uncomfortable), Nightmare, Deceit bein a big brother and mom (and also a bit manipulative)

(anything else you need tagged, let me know)

btw I’m thinking of changing the name of this story to something better than just Willow!Virgil by the time I get out the next chapter so be prepared for that

I woke up in the middle of the night to a prickling feeling running down my arm. I sat up, feeling the Braille as it formed. Looks like Roman was up at, I checked my clock, three in the morning again. I pulled out my pen, reading what he had written. When Roman's writing something at absurd times in the morning, it's usually meant for me.

"That guy at the store...who was that?"

"Which guy?"

"The one that led you away from me. Who said you had to leave."

"Oh, that was Dee." There was a pause for a moment. I couldn't help but wonder if he had passed out, before I felt more Braille form.

"...He doesn't harm you in any way, does he?" I blinked.

"No, of course not! He's basically my big brother. What made you think that?"

"Sorry, it's just...he seems a bit controlling is all. I mean, you're a grown man, and yet he's forcing you away from us! I mean, what do you have to fear?" A lot of things. I closed my eyes and wrote back. "Dee's overprotective, sure. But he's overprotective for a good reason. Get some sleep, alright?"

"...Alright. I love you, Stormcloud."

"I love you, too."

The next morning Roman and I had wiped away our conversation, only for it to be immediately replaced with Patton's excited scribbles, detailing a date at the mall they would be having, as well as his usual add-on asking me if I could go. This time I hesitated with my usual "not yet". I sat on the couch with Emile and Dee as reruns of Avatar the Last Airbender played on the TV.

It wouldn't hurt if I just went to the mall to meet them this once, right? So long as they didn't find out I was a Willow. All I have to do is wear those sunglasses and my scarf, and they won't suspect a thing. Roman didn't ask about the sunglasses last time, and I could just make up an excuse for the scarf.

The problem was sneaking out of the tower without Dee knowing. Luckily enough, I knew someone who knew exactly how to do that.

"Hey, where's Remy?" I asked, looking in the direction of Emile. He hummed, thinking. "Last I saw him he was in bed dealing with the aftermath of that shot of red bull and coffee grounds." I snickered, remembering last night when we had all begged him to put it down, with him of course not listening and downing three shots of the stuff before throwing up, and doing it again. "Oh, that reminds me! I should probably head up and get him some more water."

"I'll do that." I stood up, grabbing a water bottle from our supply and heading upstairs. I opened the door to Emile and Remy's room, being greeted by a loud, obnoxious groan. "We told you last night that this would happen. Did you listen? No! No, you didn't! Pay the price, bitch."

"Oh, shut up, you sleep-deprived raccoon. It's not like you haven't done this before."

"That's not the point." I handed him the bottle of water, sitting at the edge of his bed. I hesitated for a moment. "I could use some help." I asked quietly.

I heard him sit up, leaning closer to me. "What do ya need, babe?"

"I...I want to see my soulmates." The silence in the air was painful. I counted the seconds it took for him to process that.

"Look, Virgey, Dee's been trying to protect you for, what? 31 years? I get being excited about meeting your soulmates but...you saw how Dee felt about it earlier. Just wait until they're Willows, too, okay? Besides, I don't wanna betray him like this. I love Dee-Dee, and—"

"Come on, Rem, please? Just this once? They're already older than me, and if they die when they're like forty without me talking to them in person before then that's just gonna be really weird to think about and I mean sure I'm technically 50 when they're in their mid-twenties, but I'm biologically 19 and I don't know how this works and—"

"Okay okay! Calm down, gurl. Take a breather! Yeah, age when dealing with basically-immortal beings dating mortals is weird to think about."

"Like seriously, how the hell did you and Emile manage to die at the perfect time to make the two of you biologically the same age as Dee?" Remy laughed. "Luck and perfection, Virgey. Luck and perfection." There was silence for a moment, before Remy sighs, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. "I'll help you meet them." He then dramatically collapsed on the bed. "Now if only I could get rid of this sickness I feel in my stomach!"

"Get over yourself, Willows can't get sick like that." Remy whined. "You're no fun!" He giggled, then sat back up. "Alrighty, now here's the plan."

"Where are you two going?" I held back a shudder at Dee's words, his suspicious tone. Remy smirked next to me. "Don't worry, babe, we were just heading out to hunt. I'm not feeling all too good still, so Virgey agreed to come with me."

"Only to make sure you don't knock yourself unconscious with your damn sleeping gas." I muttered just loud enough for Dee to hear, just as Remy had told me to. Remy pretended to act offended.

"Ah, very well then." Dee spoke. I couldn't read his emotions, something that put me a bit on-edge. "Be careful, okay you two?" Emile asked, running over. I heard the sounds of him and Remy kissing. "I will, don't worry, babe. I'll make sure Virgey's nice and safe." We walked out of the tower in silence.

"Holy crap we actually did it." I whispered once we were all the way out of the forest surrounding the tower. Remy laughed joyously. "What did I tell you?" I gulped. "This is the first time I've really gone against him." Remy paused, letting out a small breath in disbelief. "31 years. And you never tried to go all 'teenage rebellion' on him?"

"Fuck no! Have you seen him when he's upset?" Remy hummed.

"I always found him shrieking to be kind of hilarious."

"You're weird, man."

"No you."

I ran a hand across the Braille on my arms. I had told my soulmates that I'd be able to go if we had the date be at sunset. After the expected vampire jokes from Roman, they all excitedly agreed. Now I just hoped that I wouldn't have to go back on this.

We reached the mall and stepped inside. They had said they would be waiting on the first floor, near the escalators. After Remy asked a security guard for some directions, we began to head over. "I can feel you vibrating."

"I'm not vibrating." I say as I nervously adjust my scarf for the umpteenth time.

"Mhm. Sure you aren't."

The mall was a lot busier than I would have expected so late at night. It was possible there was some kind of event happening, but considering we never really went to the mall, I didn't know for sure. All I knew was that all the loud people and their different scents all melding together...it was quite overwhelming. I took a deep breath, calming myself down a bit. I had a feeling we were almost there.

Someone then grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to a halt. "What are you doing here?" I held back a yelp, Dee whispering harshly into my ear. Remy laughed nervously. "Dee! Em-Em! Hey..." Dee sighed, pulling me in the opposite direction. "Come on, we're going home."

"Dee! Let go!"

"Explain what exactly you are doing here."

"I...I just wanted to see my soulmates. Just once, I was gonna be extra careful." Dee groaned.

"Virgil, you are acting like an impatient child. Wait until they die and turn. Otherwise you could put all of us in danger. Is that understood?"

"Dee—"

"Is that. Understood?" I sighed. "Yeah. Got it."

I let Dee guide me out of the mall, feeling Remy and Emile next to me. Emile grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry, Virgey." We got back to the tower, Remy and Emile lying on the couch, Emile humming softly. Dee sighed and pulled me into a hug. "I'm sorry, Virgil. I'm just trying to look out for you. Please, just be patient, okay?" I nodded, allowing him to hold me for a few more moments, before he pulled away. "Let's watch some TV before heading to bed, how about that?"

"...Sounds good."

I heard the shatter of a plate downstairs, and felt the terror coursing through my veins. My heart was pounding as I curled up in the closet, covering my ears as tears streaked my cheeks. Screaming came from the kitchen, and another plate shattered. I felt my blood go cold as I heard the loud THUD THUD THUD of boots stomping up the stairs. I wiped away my tears frantically, holding my breath. I bit my finger, holding back a whimper as my bedroom door swung open. My father pillaged through my room, before he stopped.

The footsteps came over to the closet, the doors thrown open. I felt my shirt being grabbed at the front, and I was lifted off the ground.

I shot up in bed, gasping for breath. I clutched at my chest, a strange relief going through me when I didn't feel a heartbeat. I waited until I stopped shaking, before slowly standing up and heading out of my room in the tower. I ran a hand across the wall, feeling the next door down and opening it, slipping inside. I walked over to the bed and lied down, curling up next to Dee. I felt him stir, before he sighed and muttered, "Another nightmare?" I nodded into his chest.

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer and running a soothing hand through my hair. "Stay as long as you need."

I fell asleep to the cold of his body and the silence of his heart.

Dee ran a hand through Virgil’s hair, contemplating Virgil’s sudden change in behavior. He met one of his soulmates, then ran off to try and meet the rest. Dee sighed, hugging Virgil closer. “If this happens again,” he thought, “I may need to take some...extra measures.”

[reesewestonarchive]

road to nowhere - 3 (mature content)

rem belongs to @forlornraven​

(I forgot anyone who was interested in this... oops)

“This country,” Nakoa says, as they drive down 70 towards Denver, “is a fucking wasteland.”

Nebraska was all corn. Iowa wasn’t much better.

They’d tired of the same half-dozen albums, and the deck ate one of Rem’s mixes, scrambling it into something beyond repair. They’ve yet to find a pawn shop, though, and Nakoa’s been good enough, driving Rem crazy with his renditions of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” and Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”. Nakoa’s voice breaks on the high notes, but when he vocalizes the drumming in “In the Air Tonight”, Rem finally cracks a smile.

They get off the highway, and Nakoa pays for a shitty room at a pay-by-the-hour motel across from a bar. The clerk glances between Rem and Nakoa with a bored, suspicious look… then takes the cash. “Cool. Out by ten in the morning. Dump the key in the box.”

The room smells like smoke, like vomit, but the sheets are clean and it’s a bed, a real fucking bed. Nakoa face plants into it, and an obscene moan escapes his throat. “Maybe we should just live here.”

“Hell fucking no.”

He feels the bed bend as Rem sits on the end. As he crawls up, rocks his hips against Nakoa’s ass. “Not tonight, honey, I’m not in the mood.”

The bed vibrates, too. Nakoa digs into his pockets for two quarters, and slots them into the machine. Underneath him, the bed begins moving; Rem loses his balance, collapses on top of Nakoa, an arm to either side of him, face pressed between Nakoa’s shoulder blades.

“Driving is fucking exhausting,” Rem mumbles into his shoulders. Nakoa’s content to stay there, on sheets of questionable cleanliness, in a strange town, in a shitty motel room. Rem’s warm against his back, and…

It’s good. In a very fucked up way, but he’s pretty sure that he and Rem have never fit into normal and never will. What’s the point of life if you’re not having a little fucking fun?

They nap like that for an hour, maybe two, before Rem jerks awake on top of him, rolls off, and says, “Pizza.”

Nakoa agrees, eyes still heavy with sleep. “And whiskey.”

Rem shoots him a disgusted look. “Heathen. Beer and pizza.”

“Hmm.” Nakoa closes his eyes again. Somewhere in the room, he hears Rem gather his things, hears the locks on Nakoa’s suitcase click, and the door to the room shut.

He falls back asleep, and for the first time, Michael’s not behind his eyelids waiting for him.

Staying behind means Nakoa can rest, still, means that when Rem comes in carrying a pizza and a six-pack, Nakoa thinks he looks like a dream.

He sits up, scoots up, presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and thinks that he could get used to this. Rem coming home with dinner—living with him.

The pizza’s warm, fresh, covered in cheese and pepperoni, and the beer’s cool and cold, and Nakoa downs half a slice, half a bottle, and when he looks at Rem, he has this look on his face. Reverent, pleased.

Happy.

“Thanks,” Nakoa says, but Rem shrugs.

“You paid for it.”

Still, though. Nakoa nudges him with his shoulder, flips on the television and settles in.

They watch bad movies, reruns of classics, until the schedule ends with static, and Nakoa stretches his hands over his head and squirms down the bed. “Mm. Time to sleep.”

But, like always, Rem’s got other plans. His eyes flick to Nakoa’s stomach, and he reaches across Nakoa’s body to place his beer on the desk, his breath ghosting over Nakoa’s face.

It’s pathetic, maybe, how quickly Nakoa goes hard with the proximity, with Rem’s heat. Rem laughs at him, but Nakoa still savors the sound, even if it’s at his own expense. “You’re so fucking eager.”

“Like you’re not,” Nakoa says, and tugs him down by the collar, traces the seam of his lips with his tongue. Rem tastes like Nakoa’d expected, like meat and cheese and beer, and maybe it’s not exactly pleasant, but Rem could taste a lot worse and Nakoa would still jump at the chance. He draws his hand down Nakoa’s side, the one that’s not holding him up, and cups him in hand, over his jeans. Against his best attempts to hold it, he keens with the pressure, a soft noise escaping his mouth. Rem’s smile is wide against his lips. “Fucker,” Nakoa says, but he’s already working at Rem’s belt, fingers shaking.

To think that he almost gave this up, that he almost didn’t take Rem up on the offer. That he almost wrote this off as a pipe dream.

“Rem—” he says, skirting his hands around to either of Rem’s hips, tugging at his jeans. “I want—”

“Yeah, I know what you want,” he says, his mouth on Nakoa’s neck. He pulls a bottle from one of his pockets, sits back and holds it up like it’s a prize, a pleased rise to his eyebrows.

Nakoa can’t get his pants off fast enough.

Rem makes quick work of them, even as he reattaches his mouth to the pulse point in Nakoa’s neck, but between the friction and the wet heat of his mouth, Nakoa thinks he could come just like this. At Rem’s mercy.

“I could—blow you?”

“You keep suggesting that.”

“Never heard you complain before.” Nakoa’s voice is ruined, shot with arousal and distraction, and Rem laughs at him, again, not unkindly. Fondly, maybe, if Nakoa had to put a name to it.

“I wanna fuck you,” Rem says, against his ear, as he pulls up and away, rolls over to shimmy his own jeans off. He kicks his shoes off, too, a loud thunk as they hit the floor. “You wanna be fucked. Works out, right?”

Heat pools in Nakoa’s stomach as he pulls Rem back to him with a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah, just…” He hesitates, wonders if he should ask, but then rolls, pushes Rem underneath him, grins down at his surprised look. He grins his hips against Rem’s, says, “In the spirit of trying new things.”

“I—“ Rem starts, but his cheeks color, and he leans up to kiss him again, desperate, pulling Nakoa against him by his hair. Whatever he’d meant to say gets lost in Nakoa’s mouth, but Nakoa’s got more pressing concerns.

The first stretch is—fuck. Nakoa leans into it, likes the burn, likes the way Rem’s pupils dilate and he licks his lips. It’s good—fuck, incredible, like everything Rem is and does, and Nakoa licks his lips, takes himself in hand and whines when Rem slaps his hand away.

“Jackass.”

But Rem resumes where he forced Nakoa to leave off, and—all right, yeah. That’s good, too.

—

“This music all sucks,” Rem says, a lollipop tucked between his lips as he flips through rows of tapes. “We’d have better chances with the fucking radio.”

The radio, though, is a bunch of repeats and oldies. Nakoa nudges Rem in the ribs, points out a Bowie album and says, “Don’t be like this. Bowie’s right there.”

Grumbling, Rem rolls his eyes and plucks the album from its spot in the bin, and continues searching. Nakoa’s already got Queen and Iggy Pop tucked away where Rem can’t see them, though, intent on surprising him later.

Rem’s missing Clash album, though. Nakoa’s read all the cassettes twice, and no sign of it.

If he can ever hit up a store without Rem noticing, he’ll pick it up, money be damned.

Rem pulls the lollipop from his mouth, hands it over. When he speaks, his tongue is a bright red from the candy. “Come on. Still got a drive ahead of us.” He hands over the Bowie tape, shoves his hands in his pocket, and walks out of the pawn shop, out onto the street.

The clerk behind the desk watches him with a blank expression, but Nakoa drops three of the tapes onto the counter and starts pulling dollar bills out of his wallet, and the clerk sighs a heavy sigh, starts ringing him up. Nakoa taps his foot against the floor—Rem’s already out of sight, bastard—and dumps a five on the counter before the guy can give him his total.

For a Tuesday afternoon, the street’s surprisingly empty. Rem should be easy to spot—he’s not.

So Nakoa stays. Picks at his nails, waits for Rem to come back and entertains himself making anagrams out of song titles.

It grows dark, and Rem still doesn’t come, so Nakoa, cold without his jacket, makes his way back towards the motel. Tries not to worry about him; expects that he got caught up in a bar, or… something equally as stupid. Uses the key to shove his way in, and—

Rem’s already there, shoving their things into his suitcase. When he looks up, eyebrows raised, he says, “Oh, good. You’re here.”

“No thanks to you.” He tries not to let his irritation cloud his voice. “Were you going to take off without me or something?”

As he passes, Rem grabs both of Nakoa’s shoulders. “Don’t be stupid. Of course not.”

“What’s the rush?”

Rem flinches. Hesitates, just a second, before he says, “Might’ve pissed somebody off.”

“So? You do that all the time.”

“He may have had a gun.”

Oh, well. That changes everything. “You tell him where you were headed?” Silence. “Rem—”

“I fucked up, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” He keeps shoving into his bag. “Can you save the gloating for the car?”

They leave, Nakoa leaves the key on the table next to the TV, but by the time they get out of the motel room, onto the street, whoever Rem’s running from has already beat them to the car. With a baseball bat to the windshield.

It spiderwebs across the entire window, and Rem drops his bag to his feet, defeated. “Fucker—”

Nakoa takes a quick glance around, makes sure they’re in the parking lot alone, then says, “Go. Get in the car.”

“I can’t drive it like—”

“You wanna wait around and find out what he’ll do to you?”

Rem hesitates for just a second before he takes off, keys already in hand, Nakoa hot on his heels. What kind of bullshit did he get into now—a bet he couldn’t keep his money for? He flirt with someone he shouldn’t have? Nakoa’s seen him do a lot of stupid shit, but Rem’s never had to worry about a death threat before.

There’s no other way to take this.

When they’re inside, the doors safely locked behind them, Nakoa asks, “How the fuck did he know what you drove?”

“I—told him. I might’ve bet the car—”

“Rem!”

“—in a card game, chill!”

Nakoa presses his palms to his eyes and wonders just how the fuck he’s this stupid. “So you leave me—”

“You’re not really upset about that, are you?”

“—on the side of the road in the middle of fucking nowhere—”

Rem makes a noise, starts the car, and the car groans in turn. “I didn’t leave you in the middle of nowhere, you’re so fucking dramatic—”

“—and now you have some dude on your tail for telling him you’d pay him… what?” Nakoa turns to glare at him, intent on ripping him a new one, because Nakoa’s not doing this because he wants a thrill ride, when he sees some big guy, bald with a spiked jacket, stalking towards the car. “Rem.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“Can you speed it up a little?” He turns his hand in the air, points to the guy stalking forward towards them. Rem follows his finger, makes a noise that sounds a little like a stifled yelp, and floors the gas.

The car roars to life under his hands, and a grin climbs across his face. “That’s my girl,” he says, proud, cranks the car into reverse. It speeds across the parking lot, until Rem slams on the brake and Nakoa nearly slams his face into the dashboard.

Baldie’s still stalking towards them. Just… now he’s holding a baseball bat. Rem puts the car into drive, but Nakoa’s seeing everything in slow motion, how many paces Baldie still is from the car, how easy it’d be for him to break out Rem’s window and haul him through it, and then—

“Go,” he says, or thinks he says, and Rem peels out of the parking lot, the car fishtailing as they go.

Nakoa feels his heartbeat in his shoes for fifteen minutes before he starts to settle down, rests his head against the headrest and says, “What the fuck, Rem.” It’s not a question. Just… resignation. Anything different, and he wouldn’t be Rem.

Anything different, and Nakoa wouldn’t have wanted to come.

Rem angles his body so he can see around the worst part of the crack, but it looks… uncomfortable. They’ll need to replace it if they have any hope of getting anywhere.

As they drive, new cracks form. Nakoa sighs.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Rem says. “You’re no fucking saint.”

“When was the last time a bald guy with a bat chased after me?” Rem sends him a glance, out of the corner of his eye, and Nakoa’s mood sours further. “My father doesn’t count.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re such a jackass,” Nakoa mutters, and turns away from him. Away from the break in the windshield, from Rem’s stone exterior and inability to talk about anything of consequence. He thinks about asking what the fuck happened, what really happened, what made some guy Rem barely knows piss him off this bad, but, instead, he digs around in the glovebox for the tapes, pulls one out and shoves it in the tape deck.

The first few notes start to play,  and Madonna starts crooning about making it through the wilderness, and Rem says, “No. Are you fucking kidding me? No.”

But Nakoa slaps his wrist when he reaches for the eject button. “Hey, you could’ve gotten me killed. The least you can fucking do is let me have this.”

It’s not even that Nakoa likes Madonna all that much—he’d pick Cyndi any day—but Rem sits, quietly, in the driver’s seat through the first side of the tape and, when Nakoa ejects it to turn it over, Rem says, “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“Wanna tell me what for?”

“For thinking I could one up a skinhead?” When Nakoa says nothing, Rem sighs. “For betting the car.”

“And why the fuck did you bet the car?”

Rem doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, stays quiet. The thought passes Nakoa’s mind to put the other side of the tape in, play Madonna until Rem wants to tell him something, anything, an inkling of what he did, but he doesn’t. He’s torturing himself enough, by the looks of it. “I figured I could—I dunno. Hustle, a little, but the guy figured it out, and—” He sighs. “This cars not worth six grand, you know that?”

Six—What the fuck. “You told him—” Nakoa squints his eyes together. “And he believed you?”

“No! He figured he’d get some loser on the hook for six grand!” Rem groans, frustration seeping through his tone. “I’m sorry, okay? But we got out of there. It’s fine.”

Fine. Fine, he says, but what if he wasn’t. If the car didn’t start when it did, if Nakoa didn’t make his way back to the motel when he did. Not chastising, just concerned, Nakoa says his name, and Rem curses, under his breath.

Taking pity on him, Nakoa pulls Queen out of his suitcase, rewinds it, and waits. When Freddie Mercury’s voice comes over the speakers, Nakoa can just make out the way Rem’s lips part, the way his expression softens, and Nakoa thinks about how good it’d be to touch him, right now. Not even sexual or anything, just… being close.

Rem would call him an idiot, something to the effect, wouldn’t let him live it down. Maybe whatever Nakoa feels isn’t reciprocated, if he even knew what it was, but Nakoa doesn’t need to be, if he knows Rem’s happy. Content.

Between the drinking, the recklessness—and Nakoa’s not judging, he’s right there with him—Nakoa doesn’t just suspect, he knows Rem’s not happy.

Still, Nakoa turns his head away, starts singing, loud and as out of key as he can manage, until something like laughter bubbles from Rem’s throat. “You are a terrible fucking singer,” he says.

Nakoa doesn’t correct him.

[millionsnife]

tag dump tba

[millionsnife]

our paths they did cross,though I cannot say just why we met, we laughed, we held on fast and then we said goodbye and who'll hear the echoes of stories never told? let them ring out loud 'till they unfold

in your dearest memories, do you remember loving me? was it fate that brought us close and now leaves me behind? a voice from the past, joining yours and mine adding up the layers of harmony

[millionsnife]

and now there's an empty room you outgrew but i'm here for you, ooh, ooh