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justalittlelilac · 2 months ago

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Three days.

You had three days to tell Qiu Lin you were in love with them.

Part 1, Part 2 Word Count: 4,045 CW: Subtle references to depression and drug use

You rounded the corner of the Lin residence, feeling slightly worse for wear. Sleep had been the enemy after last night's interaction with your best friend. You had tossed and turned like a ship in a stormy sea, waves of thoughts crashing against the fragile hull of your mind until fatigue dragged you under its murky waters around 5 a.m.

Even now, your mind was still anchored in the hideout, replaying the moments over and over like an old, silent film on repeat. You shook your head, trying to dispel the lingering fog, and pushed onward, kicking at the blanket of autumn leaves under your feet as if somehow that could bolster you.

It did not.

The crisp air nipped at your cheeks, sharp as a knife, and the earthy scent of decaying leaves filled your nostrils, a bittersweet reminder of the season slipping away. You inhaled deeply, but the cold air only seemed to tighten the knot in your chest.

The front door of the Lin house loomed before you, and your hand hesitated on the doorknob, fingers curling around the cold metal. From inside, you could hear laughter echoing through the walls, and the warm, savory scent of cooked food seeped through the cracks, filling the air with the comfort of cinnamon, sage, and roasting turkey.

This shouldn't be so hard, you thought. For years now, you and your mom, the Baumanns, and the Lins had shared Thanksgiving together. It began that very first Thanksgiving after you moved to Golden Grove when you'd confided in Qiu that it would be just you and your mom for the holiday—no one else. No distant relatives, no friends from before.

Qiu, being Qiu, had taken it upon themselves to make sure no one felt left out that Turkey Day. They always felt responsible for everyone's happiness back then, as if their arms were wide enough to gather the whole world in a hug, always feeling like it was their duty.

Luckily for you, that kindness had extended to your small family.

You still didn't know how they had convinced their parents, but the three families gathered around a shared table every year since then. Your mom had expressed her gratitude a hundred times, but you always felt a quiet relief mixed with something more—something you had never quite dared to name.

With a steadying breath, you turned the knob and stepped inside, the warm air embracing you immediately like a soft blanket. From the entryway, voices drifted in from the kitchen, mingling with the soft drone of a TV playing in the background. Your eyes traveled to the couch, where Mr. Baumann, Tamarack's grandfather, was already snoozing—his head tipped back, mouth slightly open, newspaper on his lap in a nap born of habit now that he was actually retired, not turkey-induced drowsiness.

You began to take off your shoes, your gaze wandering toward the dining room. The table was already set, the plates gleaming under the soft light of the chandelier, the silverware perfectly aligned. The Lins were hosting this year, just as you and your mom had hosted last year, and the Baumanns the year before that.

Everything seemed as it always was—perfectly in place—but something felt off-kilter, like a picture hanging slightly askew.

Suddenly, a voice cut through your thoughts.

"You're late!" Before you could even register the words, you were pulled into a warm hug, the familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon wrapping around you like a favorite old sweater.

"Tamarack!" you exclaimed, pulling back just enough to look at her. "I thought you were going to be in Florida for Thanksgiving?"

Tamarack smiled faintly, her fingers nervously tugging at the cuff of her cardigan. The sight of her made your heart swell. She'd cut her hair, and it fell in soft waves just above her shoulders, the vibrant red catching the light in a way that made it glow like embers in a fireplace. You'd always loved how her hair seemed to blaze like that, and seeing her now, you realized just how much you'd missed her presence.

"I was, but… Dad had this academic convention thing, and—" she paused, her eyes flicking downward. "Well, you know how it is."

You gave her a tight-lipped smile, understanding all too well. You rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, offering a silent reassurance that you knew she needed. Tamarack had heard enough complaints about her parents from you over the years. You'd save it this time.

"Well, their loss because I get you all to myself then," you teased, lightening the mood, and Tamarack laughed softly, fanning your hand away with a mock frown.

"Hey, not true! I'm here too," came Qiu's voice, clear and bright, cutting through the air like a sunbeam as they emerged from the kitchen at the end of the hallway. Your heart stumbled in your chest, further tangling your thoughts with last night's almost-confession.

You found a crack in the entryway tile incredibly interesting as they approached. "I've been waiting for you," they stated casually, and your eyes snapped up.

I have been waiting for you, not we. You couldn't help the little giddiness you felt that, in turn, made you cringe internally.

"Well, here I am," you said coolly, shrugging and fanning your hands at your sides sarcastically.

Qiu laughed, "Yes, I can see that. Your mom said you were up late? Did your test go okay?" Their dark eyes widened slightly as if in concern.

The expression sent your heart leaping into your throat. Damn it. What would normally be an easy response escaped you in a choked grunt, and you mentally kicked yourself for being such a baby.

"Oh, uh, yeah! It went fine, just stress—y'know," you stammered lamely. From the corner of your eye, Tamarack's gaze oscillated between the two of you. Then, her red eyes narrowed as if trying to read between the lines of a page that wasn't meant for her.

You could practically feel her thoughts buzzing, and it took everything in you to not pinch her to keep whatever she was about to say to herself. She had an uncanny ability to sniff out your lies from a mile away. You were sure she'd known how you felt about Qiu for a long time, even though you'd never explicitly discussed it.

"You three going to loiter about or make yourselves useful?" Granny's voice rang out from the kitchen, halting Tamarack in her tracks. All three of you tensed like deer caught in headlights.

"Coming!" You answered in unison before all but running down the hall to help. The moment you crossed the threshold, it felt like you'd stepped back in time.

The warm, familiar kitchen space was bustling with activity. Mrs. Lin stood at the stove, expertly maneuvering pots. Mr. Lin stirred gravy on the other side, his brow furrowed in concentration. There was even a small army of Tupperware and bowls covering every spare countertop.

Your nose twitched at the scent of rosemary, sage, and basil swirling together. They made space for your mom, who was removing her homemade rolls from the oven heat with a pair of bright red mitts. You smirked slightly.

The Lins' kitchen had always been a place of warmth and comfort, even from the first moment you stepped into it so many years ago. It was a living memory, a scrapbook filled with laughter and the smells of comfort.

The walls were painted in a soft, buttery yellow that glowed under the warm overhead lights, and the cabinets were made of rich wood that matched the worn, well-loved floorboards. The windows were always open, letting in fresh autumnal air and fading light that reflected off the various mahogany accents scattered around the room.

It was a kitchen you associated with homework at the counter, with secret snacks during sleepovers, and with being shooed out of the back door by Mrs. Lin as she cooked. You'd snuck in that same backdoor on late nights as much as you and Qiu had been chased out of it. There's a reason why some people say the kitchen is the heart of the house.

As silly as it sounded, it felt like your own heart was beating in sync with every bubbling pot and crackling pan.

"You sure you even need help? Seems like we'd just be in the way," you chuckled. Sitting at the counter, Granny turned and wagged her finger at you with mock sternness.

"Nonsense, you kids—excuse me, adults—need to be put to work," she insisted. "Here, egg duty for the three of you. I need to make sure Opa isn't sleeping again. I swear, he'd miss the whole day if it wasn't for me," she grumbled before rising and making her escape.

"She knows Opa is going to be asleep. She just did that to get out of her own work," Tamarack murmured with a sigh. For a moment, she looked like a younger version of Granny—her expression, the way she crossed her arms, her wry smile. You'd heard it a thousand times before—how Tamarack had more of Granny in her than either of her parents. You couldn't help but smile at the resemblance, preferring it.

Tamarack grabbed an egg from the bowl, tapping it lightly against the granite counter before beginning to peel it. You and Qiu shared a look and, with a resigned shrug, formed a makeshift assembly line. Tamarack peeled the eggs, Qiu sliced them in half and scooped out the yolks, and you mixed the filling, stirring in mayo, mustard, and paprika before spooning it back into the waiting whites.

The three of you slipped into an easy rhythm, light conversation flowing between you. You laughed over things you'd seen on the internet, movies you'd recently watched, and memories of past Thanksgivings. For a moment, it was easy to pretend that nothing had changed, that you were just three friends, laughing and working side by side, just like before.

But every so often, someone would mention college—an anecdote, a funny story, a new friend—and the illusion would shatter like glass, the reality slicing your skin. You had nothing to offer in these moments, nothing to relate except a smile here, a nod there, and every so often a shared huff of annoyance in reference to studying.

The eggs were finished, and so was the rest of the food. After a chaotic setting of the table—filled with jostling, teasing, and Granny's laughter echoing from the doorway—you all finally sat down to eat. The table was overflowing with dishes—classic Thanksgiving staples like turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, but also foods that reflected your friends' heritages.

Things like mooncakes that Qiu's family would get for the Mid-Autumn Festival, but always again for this special occasion, each one delicately shaped and filled with lotus paste. Granny had brought her famous kartoffelsalat, a potato salad recipe passed down from Mr. Baumann's mother and her mother before her, all the way back to Germany.

And, of course, your mom's pumpkin pie sat in the center, much to Qiu's noticeable relief.

The table buzzed with conversation as everyone ate, voices overlapping in a warm, familiar sound. You reached for one of the rolls, but your hand collided with Qiu's at the exact same moment. They swatted your hand away with a playful grin, snatching up the last one.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, feigning outrage. Qiu just laughed, eyes twinkling with that mischief that was oh-so-them.

"Gotta be quicker than that," they teased, but in the same breath, they were tearing the roll in half, offering you a piece with a soft, almost unconscious gesture of affection.

Cheeks flaming, you took the role without even a quip, which was unusual—normally, you never let Qiu have the last word. Beside you, Tamarack chuckled, and you nudged her gently with your elbow.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you've still got it bad, huh?" Tamarack whispered, her tone teasing. Qiu was busy explaining to Granny again what they were studying at school; their animated voice faded into the background.

"Sh-shut up!" you hissed louder than you intended. It was the first time she had ever blatantly referred to what you both knew. "Don't… don't make it obvious," you murmured in a pleading tone, and you busied your hands by cutting into your food.

Tamarack's giggle was light and knowing, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I don't think you need my help to do that," she whispered back with a smug grin. This time, you actually elbowed her, but she just laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

Eventually, the conversation shifted, and you knew what was coming before anyone even opened their mouth. The topic of college and futures turned, unfortunately, to you.

"How's school?" someone asked, and you braced yourself.

"Fine," you mumbled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, hoping the food would muffle the sound of your anxiety.

"Enjoying your classes?" Came the next question.

"Yeah, they're great!" You stated a little too brightly.

"Make any new friends?"

"Well…yeah, actually a few!" you replied, the lie sliding out of your mouth as easily as the rest.

"How's work going?"

"Livin' the dream!" you quipped, flashing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

The table laughed, but it was the same polite laughter you'd heard a hundred times before—the same interview questions, the same rehearsed answers, a tired script playing out on an endless loop.

Then Granny's voice broke through the noise, unexpected and sharp.

"So, what can you even do with that? Your degree?"

"Dorthea…" Mr. Baumann sighed beside her, his tone laced with a familiar exasperation.

"Omi!" Tamarack chided, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"What? It's an honest question!" She defended herself. "You hear about these college kids studying things they can't even live on, saddled with debt. I'm only a concerned guardian. What, especially with everything that's gone on in the past, I only wanted to make sure they're thinking it through, is all."

Her words hung in the air, cold, like someone had left the dining room window open. It sliced through the warm buzz of the room, and suddenly, it was like the Hallmark golden veneer of the moment faded to the washed-out greys you knew too well.

The table went silent except for the soft clinking of silverware against plates. Granny looked around, realizing too late that she had put her foot in her mouth. "Oh, there I go again," she murmured, sighing. "I'm not trying to be the bad guy…"

You stared at your plate, feeling…nothing. Of course, no one spoke up. They probably thought she was right, and you didn't have the energy to defend yourself. Not like when you were younger and would have reacted in venomous anger.

It wasn't like you even could defend yourself if you wanted to. School, your job, even the act of getting out of bed some days—these were all just formalities you performed so people wouldn't pry too deeply.

You didn't care what she thought. What anyone thought. To hell with them. To hell with all of it. You didn't care… so why was your stomach churning, and why couldn't you look up? Why couldn't you meet anyone's gaze?

"Whatever they want," Qiu's clear voice broke through the tension. Your eyes lifted to see them giving Granny a flat, unyielding look. "They can do whatever they want with their degree. Besides, it's not really your business at the end of the day," they finished gently but with a tone of silk over steel.

The table watched quietly as the two stared each other down. Qiu then shrugged and took a drink from their glass, dismissing it like Granny had asked about the weather.

You'd almost forgotten there was this part of Qiu. That biting, 'you're either with it or you're not' attitude. The fierce, unwavering protector, the one who was just as much the mediator as they were the one who stood their ground and didn't flinch. To bite their thumb in the face of authority when it really mattered.

It was the side that reminded you why you'd fallen in love with them in the first place.

"Qiu, that's not—" Mrs. Lin started, but Granny raised her hand, a look of contrition crossing her face.

"No, no, Qiu is right," Granny nodded, seeming to understand the unspoken line she had crossed. "I'm sorry," she said, turning back to you. "That wasn't polite of me to ask, and even if it was, I went about it very ungracefully. I know you all must think I'm full of sage wisdom at my age, but even I still make mistakes." She chuckled, and a few others followed suit, but the awkward air lingered like smoke in a closed room.

"The tree farm!" Tamarack suddenly blurted out, snapping the tension like a wishbone. You raised an eyebrow. The tree farm?

"We're going tomorrow, right?" she continued, her eyes darting around the table with earnest hope in them. Your brain finally caught up with her words. Every year since you were ten, your three families piled into cars and drove out of the city to a family-owned tree farm to cut down your Christmas trees.

It was a whole day event—an unofficial ceremony that marked the true beginning of the holiday season. When Tamarack Baumann was finally allowed to relish in and shower her Christmas cheer on everyone around. Your cul-de-sac's very own holiday cheer meister and Santa Claus.

You could almost hear her humming Christmas carols under her breath and see her grinning from ear to ear as she dragged everyone through rows of trees taller than the sky. You'd almost forgotten about it…how was that possible?

The memories flooded back, of snow-dusted laughter, steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and Qiu's smile beneath a mist of frosty breath. The moments you cherished—the warmth that filled you from the inside out, even on the coldest days.

But now, thinking about it only reminded you of how much had changed, how there was no guarantee this would happen again. How much more complicated things felt. If Tamarack hadn't said anything, would this have just been another memory that remained just that? You swallowed, trying to clear the lump that had formed in your throat.

"I don't see why not if the Lins and the Seconds are for it. It is a tradition, after all," Granny interjected, seeming to try and make up for her previous fumble.

"A tradition! Yes!" Tamarack exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you and Qiu as if the two of you were her last hope.

Qiu gave a quick nod, their smile warm, "Yeah, we definitely can't miss that."

"Great," Mr. Lin chimed in. He clasped his hands together, that quiet enthusiasm he always seemed to carry filling the air. "Us older adults can take our car. Would you be okay chauffeuring on the other end?" Mr. Lin and the rest of the table's attention fell back onto you.

"Uh, yeah, sure." You nodded, feeling a small surge of pride. It almost felt good to be old enough to be depended on, to have some small responsibility that made you feel trusted.

"I'm getting the perfect tree this year. I can feel it," Tamarack declared with confidence, eyes closed like she was already picturing the evergreen tree.

"Tamarack, last you picked a tree so tall you guys had to put it in your backyard and get another one," Qiu teased.

"That's why this year is going to be perfect. I've learned from my mistakes." She quipped back with a smirk. The table burst into laughter, and the tension that had hovered in the air just minutes ago seemed to melt away, dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

With bellies full and plenty of leftovers, the group began the ritual of cleaning up. You and Qiu were assigned dish duty while Tamarack busied herself with loading food into Tupperware for people to take home.

The kitchen had a quiet busyness about it. Every so often, you'd hear Granny or your mom laugh aloud. You and Qiu stood side by side at the sink, the warm water flowing over your hands as you washed and rinsed. Tamarack hummed behind you, working on her own task. For a moment, it was just the two of you again, the rest of the world fading into the background.

"Thanks for earlier," you mumbled, barely louder than the water, as you scraped at a stubborn piece of food on a plate. "You didn't have to—y'know—say anything."

Qiu glanced at you, their expression softening, a small smile pulling at the corners of their mouth. "Of course I did. Granny will just keep going if no one stops her, and what she said wasn't cool."

They paused for a moment, thinking about their words before speaking; their dark eyes were searching yours. "I just don't get why you always look like you're in trouble when someone brings up that kind of stuff. You're…doing great."

You handed a plate to them to be rinsed without meeting their gaze. Of course, they'd think that. You'd damned yourself to make it so.

"Right…" You only offered in response. Their hand brushed yours as they reached for the dishcloth, and your heart gave a little leap.

The contact was brief, fleeting, but it left a spark in its wake, an electricity that hummed between you like a live wire.

The dumbest thing, you thought. This was a person you'd spent the night within each other's rooms for years, sharing beds, and now you acted as if you were a Victorian who'd touched someone's hand without a glove.

Your cheeks burned, heat rushing to your face as you quickly returned to the dishes, scrubbing harder as if trying to wash away the emotions rising to the surface. The room seemed to shrink around you, the silence thickening. Qiu, usually so effortlessly chatty, was suddenly focused on a single spot on a wine glass, rubbing it over and over as if it might reveal some secret if they just polished hard enough.

It was then you noticed the absence of Tamarack's humming. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw her watching the two of you, her eyes wide, caught in the act of witnessing something unspoken.

"Oh! All done here! You guys need any help?" She stammered, scrambling to place a lid on an overfilled bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Nah, this was the last glass. I'll get the bigger stuff later," Qiu replied too quickly. Even though you offered to finish, Qiu would not be swayed. You felt the evening slipping away, an ache in your chest at the thought of it ending.

"Well…" you started, searching for an excuse, any excuse, to hold onto this moment a little longer. "I'd say we've earned ourselves a little walk, don't you think, Qiu?" You raised your eyebrows, a devil-may-care smile forming.

Qiu immediately caught your undertone and nodded with a knowing smirk. "I think you'd be right. A nice nature walk. We've earned it."

Tamarack looked between the two of you, suspicion narrowing her eyes. "A walk? I don't wanna go for a walk. Why—" Then she stopped, her eyes narrowing further. "Oh. A walk. Really?"

Qiu shrugged, playing innocent, and you simply gave a mischievous smile. "Exactly; what better time for a walk than after so much food."

Tamarack rolled her eyes with a long, exaggerated sigh. "Fine."

With a shared conspiratorial grin, the three of you slipped out the back door as if you were still teenagers sneaking away, even though you were past the age of needing anyone's permission. The forest loomed ahead, shadows thickening beneath the trees. The air felt cooler, sharper as if it were holding its breath in anticipation. Waiting for the three of you to return under it's branches.

Qiu slung an arm over your shoulder, their laughter light and carefree. You felt yourself stumble, caught between the want to lean closer and the fear of falling.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow, I'll say something. But for tonight, you let yourself pretend that time wasn't marching on, that it was just you and your two best friends sneaking out into the dark for a relaxing walk like nothing had changed at all.

Part 4

#ahhh I hope this isn't too long #feedback welcome #our life #our life: now & forever #our life now and forever #our life: now and forever #olnf #olnf qiu #qiu lin x reader #fanfic #qiu lin

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mothtral · 5 months ago

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to you, the rain had not stopped rising since geshu lin disappeared. most would tell you at this point, to try and move on. that you'd planted a flower--the first flower--in the field jiyan made, so didn't that mean you'd accepted it, at least a little bit?

you hadn't. you won't accept he's gone until some trace of him was found. his necklace, the one you made for him before he left you behind the first time to head for the front lines. scraps of the armor that covered his arm.

jiyan used to approach you, in the beginning. though well-versed enough in consoling people in grief to not push you until you were ready. jiyan never told you, but it wasn't hard to figure you weren't the only one who would see geshu lin whenever it rained.

(though, you have a feeling what he sees is a different geshu lin to yours.)

you weren't part of the midnight rangers, or work for the magistrate. you meeting geshu lin was by chance, or fate, as yangyang used to say. you were a small seller, taking up crafting jewelry or fashioning clothing from scraps of fabric and yarn. it was during a large market that the midnight rangers returned home to, years ago.

that was the night you met geshu lin. you didn't know who he was at first, apart from clearly being a member of the military. it was something geshu lin would tease you about, unaware that the big bad general was haunting your doorstep. he was heavily bandaged, with scars covering the slips of skin you could see.

you crafted him a set of earrings after urging him to choose the beads he liked best, and sent him on his way, refusing to take his money. you said it was thanks for protecting the city. the next day there was a welcoming ceremony, and you nearly fainted once you discovered just who you met the night before.

and somehow, it carried on from there. little meetings and small gifts between you two. one late night you showed geshu lin how you made your jewelry, and woke up the next day to him sliding a ring onto your finger, something he spent the entire night on. the crown jewel was from the original earrings you made him.

you hadn't taken it off. the only change was that you wear it on a chain now, scared it might slip off your finger when you weren't paying attention one day and it's lost forever. just like--

today was the anniversary of geshu lin disappearing, and no one has done anything. you knew popular opinion these days is that he got what he deserved, refusing to fall back. as if these people knew what the midnight rangers went through everyday, with the limited knowledge on retroact rain back then.

the celebrations today are for the other rangers that fell that day, and it planted a bitter root in your heart. you hid in your home that day, waiting until the flower field was deserted to visit. you won't pay your respects, as everyone else did. instead, you will sit with the flower you planted and watch the stars, something you did every time geshu lin came home.

(something else jiyan never said, biy you knew once a certain time hit, he would usher people away from the field to give you a moment alone. whatever you did to gain a friend like that, you'd never know.)

there's a watering can set to the side, and you take it to gently trickle water onto geshu lin's flower. you were about to start with your ramblings of the day, when soft footsteps crept toward you.

"come to finally join me?" you asked over your shoulder, assuming it was jiyan making his way to you.

"yes," an achingly familiar voice said, low and rough, like it hasn't been used in years, like it's been torn apart from screaming.

your head snaps up as your body twisted around, almost falling over into the grass. there, standing at the edge of the field, was the man that stole your heart and disappeared into the rain with it. but... something is wrong.

maybe it was the strange light in his eyes, or the heavy air that surrounded him like a second skin. his clothes traded from the standard black with accents to gain red and white, and his arm almost tucked behind him, like he was a child trying to hide the vase he broke. this was not the same man that left for battle and never returned. "i'm sorry it took so long for me to come home," geshu lin said. he took a step closer, and it was then that you saw what became of his arm. it had turned to blacken scales, glimmering in the starlight. purple glowed from the cracks, like his ability couldn't turn off. "i never meant to leave you alone. i'm home."

#geshu lin #geshu lin x reader #wuthering waves #geshu lin wuther waves #geshu lin wuwa #wuwa #wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #mothwrites #silly thought that geshu lin might come back with the ovathrax merged with him won't leave me. not that i really implied it here whoops #not too sure what this is i got too into plot that geshu lin himself was overshadowed by it while haunting the narrative at the same time #i'll probably flesh this out i just needed to get some bare bones for this down

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