#god they really are so poetic when you sit and ponder on it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

likeshipsonthesea · 4 years ago

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mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it.

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji.

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal? the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.”

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

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tartagliaxx · 3 years ago

Note

If requests are open, can I ask for Kazuha with a disabled reader ? I kinda need comfort after a breakup and my illnesses are acting up qwq sorry if it's too much of a bother, I hope you have a nice day

" TO WEATHER A CHERRY BLOSSOM "

━━ ☆ PAIRING: kazuha/reader

━━ ☆ GENRE: comfort

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: night slowly breaks into dawn but before that happens, untold weights are lifted through a simple love song that escaped his lips. just like that, he has planted his roots into your heart and you were all too willing to let him do so.

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: none

"you're crying."

it didn't feel like it. between the cool breeze that gently wiped your tears away, the bright moon that oversaw the small field of flowers you found yourself trapped in, and the smooth cut off his voice in the dreadful silence, the last thing on your mind was the numbing void in your heart that carved a river down your cheeks. the pain — or the lack thereof after you spent it all out until your voice was hoarse — was poetic in a sense. it's the same kind that kazuha himself would sing to in his journal of poems filled with contradictions, dilemmas, and shaky pillars of identity.

"how did you find me?"

"i could hear the wind pick up as it passes the north though most telling is," he stopped as he reached your side, eyes trailing over your puffed out features before turning back to the view. "the sound of your tears and aching heart."

"ah, was i being too loud?"

"no... it was concern that led my feet to you. i have come to realize that the soul seeks nourishment in the company of another when it is most lonesome."

you couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out of you and true, it might not be as lively as it usually was but it was genuine nonetheless. "thank you but you don't need to worry yourself for my sake. i'll be fine. you should get some sleep."

"i do not belittle your strength but in a matter of an hour or so, we shall be seeing daybreak. what say you and i see it together? i've heard it's good luck to witness the first light and what better way to do so but with good company?"

you've traveled far and wide, stepped on the same soil, and engraved your spirit in the same pathways he has, and yet, you have never heard of that belief. it was a lie then but you couldn't find it in you to be angry when kazuha tipped his head down with an embarrassed hue on his normally pale cheeks.

"and here i thought you disliked dishonesty."

"your displeasure calls for a little hypocrisy."

"then," you laughed, scooting over to the left side of the rock to let him sit by you. "it's only fair that i allow you to stay."

"and with much gratitude, i accept."

grounded is the last thing you should be feeling when you all but cursed the gods for the unlucky hand they have dealt you but it wasn't hard to think otherwise when his fingers brushed over yours in passing — when his legs are more or less glued to yours in the cramped space you shared. it was amusing to see nature herself playing the matchmaker in the unlikeliest place possible. her idea of romance was the falling leaves, all yellowed and dry as the seasons began to change. it fell — carrying with it the feelings and memories of the people it has witnessed be loved and unloved. you wondered if there was a leaf that held you in its heart but there was no time to ponder for so long when a mystery was sat beside you. the leaves fell — bringing each second to an end with nothing but silence in its wake.

"aren't you going to ask?"

"it's not my place to pry it out of you but should you wish to talk, i listen well."

kazuha is a man of great character and it's nearly impossible to describe who he was without first explaining where rainbows end and why the earth trembles. should you try, however, you'd call him eloquent... and genuine and magnificent and kind and incredibly in tune with the feelings of those he holds dear. you had no intention of burdening him, really, but when his eyes flashed with the same hesitance you have in yours, you found that announcing the existence of the weight you held on your shoulder was an easier task than you have been told.

"have you... have you ever been bothered by this?"

even this artistic genius of a man needed more than a vague implication.

"i mean... there are things that... i can't do well — or at all — and it's not like i can control it either. it's just... i don't know... it just messes me up in here." a finger tapped on your temple, "and in here." dropped down parallel to your heart.

for a while, kazuha didn't speak. instead, he moved his hand to pick up the leaf that got trapped in your clothes and he fiddled with it as if the right words would come to him at the right time with the right amount of inspiration. he looked so steady even when he twisted his head to stare up at the dark skies. he was so unlike the rampant beat of your heart that damn near felt like it would burst any moment — rhythm lost and far more frenzied than a team of horses out for a night jog.

"you know... the trees in my home were said to be interconnected in its magnificent flush. be that as it may, it would never know of its beauty even if a million eyes were to sink in a perpetual stare."

"that's..." a strange comment to make but oddly fitting of his peculiarity, "insightful?"

a good word.

"you are not too unlike the trees back home. you have planted your immoveable roots in the hearts of many and yet you do not see the way they admire you when your arms are too busy cradling your so-called flaws. even when thunder shakes the earth or the rain blurs the colors of your bloom, you are a sight to behold and i say this with full confidence. i do not see you the way you see yourself because whenever i gaze up at you, i only see the glorious masterpiece of your worth."

"kazuha..."

he only shook his head with a soft smile, unbandaged hand moving to intertwine your hand with his. he has never looked this fond, so affectionate, and oh so lovely in his entire life. what is god's blessing if not placing you across him to be the receiver of a true lover's devotion?

"no storm would not eventually come to a pass. when the skies clear up once more, i shall be there to witness it, and should autumn come, i shall be here to wait for your spring with a poem at hand. whether we are sailing the clouds or gliding the seas... i shall choose your name above any other even if everyone else questions it. that is my vow to you and i swear it on my heart and my blade."

"you...." are too choked up with your emotions, eyes glossed over with the unshed tears that came with the feeling of being loved — of being accepted regardless of what made you different from an average joe. leave it to him to serve poetic justice. endearing, really, this wanderer from afar. "you're quite well-spoken."

he was more than that and he knew that from the shaky smile on your lips.

"you flatter me."

you stared at his kind eyes, a vibrant ruby red that burned with a passion not many can see with their naked eyes. if he was the proof that you are worthy of everything and so much more, then you'd gladly believe — until the last petal falls; until the word reverence loses the meaning it beholds. it came all too sudden but the void in your chest transformed into a massive explosion that set your veins alight — stardust free-flowing into your bloodstream that tingled every time contact with him is made.

you opened your mouth to say something — a thank you, an i appreciate you — anything — but by the time the first word falls off your mouth, today's morn shines upon your skin like a welcome home of comfort and peace. "ah! the sun's rising!"

"so it appears." with a contented sigh, kazuha turns back to you though your gaze has long left him. he doesn't mind, not in the slightest. if anything, he's thankful that you misread his gestures just this once. "may the winds blow gentler to her facade this time around."

━━ ☆ NOTES: hello! i'm so sorry to hear that you have been having a rough time. just as kazuha said, no storm wouldn't eventually pass and while things may be rough right now, i feel that one day you'll wake up and it's a little bit more manageable. hang in there! on a more technical standpoint, i considered this as an emergency request (the only kind i am accepting at the present) and so it was a little bit rushed. i'm sorry if it's not up to standard ;-; anyway, i hope this short story, no matter how out of character and vague, was able to provide some comfort to you. have a nice day as well!

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 4 years ago

Text

Five Thousand Miles

Warning: Angst, descriptions of covid patients’ suffering, hospitals

A/n: I researched a lot about what covid patients go through in a hospital and their treatments but still took a couple creative liberties so I apologise if the descriptions aren’t accurate. Do tell me how you liked it!

Summary: Y/n tests positive for covid-19 and has to be hospitalised. Her boyfriend, Harry is five thousand miles away from her.

“Harry, I’m scared,” Y/n confessed as she readied herself, struggling with wearing her mask and gloves while also balancing her phone to continue talking to her boyfriend on FaceTime.

“It’ll be alright, you are taking every precaution you can. Plus, you have to get out of the house sometime, you can’t survive on air alone. Trust me, baby, you can do this.”

Harry’s voice was keeping her grounded, she wanted to continue talking to him but knew it would be impossible to shop and talk to him at the same time, so she nodded at him, “You’re right. Okay, I’ll call you when I get back. Safely.”

Taking a deep breath, she went out the door to a world of germs, people, and newly acquired viruses.

Being in the middle of a pandemic alone wasn’t her favourite situation to be in. It felt better when she had company, people who would help her buy the essentials. As soon as situations eased up a bit, her quarantine partners left New York to be with their families. She was all alone now.

Looking at all the empty streets, Y/n was left with a weird sensation. The city that never slept had never been quieter. She was so used to being woken up by car horns and car alarms in the morning that during the first few weeks of lockdown, she found it hard to wake before noon. This quiet was almost poetic, like the stuff of post-apocalyptic films. Y/n wasn’t sure if the silence comforted her or terrified her.

There were more people in the store than she had expected, though all in their masks, she breathed in relief. She went straight to the personal hygiene section, remembering the most important item on her list, only to find that the store was all out of toilet papers, the one thing films didn’t guess would be a big problem. She rolled her eyes at the selfish people who had panic-bought more stuff than they would have needed.

She tried every store near her neighbourhood, and eventually was able to get the last set in the final shop she visited. Tired from driving all over the city in search of toilet papers, she went to the check-out line to finally buy her stuff.

Standing in her place, Y/n noticed the people in the store, few whose foreheads were furrowed, their eyes darting around making sure they were maintaining the mandated distance from others, panic evident on their mask-covered faces. Some others appeared plain bored. Already used to the new routine and just wanting to get it over with.

She was so lost her observations, she almost didn’t hear it, the woman behind her in the line coughed loudly, making people jump farther apart than the required six feet.

“It’s just allergies,” the woman announced in a nasal voice, rolling her eyes at people’s reaction.

As Y/n’s turn came at the check-out counter, she found herself frozen to the ground, she didn’t know why but the cough threw her off. It felt weird to react the way she did, but she could not make herself move. She was nervous. She wanted to laugh at herself for feeling this way because of a measly cough, but it wasn’t so simple and right now all she felt was fear.

“Oh for god’s sake,” the woman moved forward, pushing her aside and placed her items at the counter. Even the employee there seemed wary, but knew he had to comply to keep his job.

It was only after the woman left, was Y/n finally able to move, she shook her head as if to shake the incident away from her mind and finally paid for her items.

She ran all the way home, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. She couldn’t help herself, she just wanted to move away from the public and into the safety of her home as soon as she could.

As she entered her house, Y/n felt her chest tighten, as though someone was sitting on it, she couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like she was breathing through a squished straw.

In between her wheezing, she searched around for her inhaler in her side bag. She felt her breath coming back a few seconds after she breathed in the medicine. She fell to her knees in exhaustion and took in a few more breaths to calm down.

She then picked herself up and embarked on an extensive set of tasks- Taking off her gloves and mask, removing her shoes at the entrance of her house, washing her hands. But, this somehow didn’t seem enough to her, so she went ahead and took another shower, just to be extra sure.

While in the shower, she cursed her asthma. It wasn’t usually a big hurdle in her life, but now, everything was a hundred times worse. This was the first time she had feared for her life. Her anxiety was at an all-time high and all she had to keep her sane was her daily FaceTime calls with Harry.

Opening her laptop to do her work, she checked the numbers again- seventy thousand new cases. She sighed and closed her laptop, not having the motivation to do any work. She scrolled through her social media to distract herself only to be shoved more news about the coronavirus, she let out a groan of frustration and switched off her phone, deciding to take a nap instead.

Only she couldn’t sleep. She thought back to all the plans she made with Harry, promising him to be there next to him while he toured the globe. She laughed at the situation and how no one in a million years could have guessed the current world state.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she must have as she woke up with a jolt in her bed after a strange dream. She shook her head and looked out her window to see the sky dark. She switched on her phone, it was 8 pm. She cursed to see three missed calls from Harry and one from her friend, Sarah.

Preparing herself, she called Harry.

“Where were you, I called like three times?” His voice was deeper than usual, she guessed he had just woken up because of her call. She calculated it to be 4 am in London, where Harry was. She felt bad for waking him up like that.

“I know, I switched off my phone and fell asleep. Sorry,” she grimaced.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, “how you doing?”

She could hear rustling on the other side and imagined a sleepy Harry sitting up in his bed, his hair messy from his sleep, “Just missing ya’.”

“I know, I hate that I had to leave you like that, wish you could come with me,” there was a hint of a whine in Harry’s voice which made Y/n smile.

“Wish I had a visa for England, I really wanted to come too,” and she meant that. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“I’ll video call you tomorrow, it’s late here, or rather early,” what he was saying next was obscured by his yawn. She sighed, she missed him too much.

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye.”

When the call disconnected, she messaged Sarah to ask what the call was about, who didn’t respond. She shrugged her shoulders and went down to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.

It started with a headache. She didn’t ponder much on it and instead only took medicine to curb the pain enough to continue working.

It was when she felt a certain roughness in her throat, did she pay attention. Her cough worsened within days, she was having a hard time breathing normally. It felt like a less severe but constant asthma attack. She took her temperature, which showed her to be having a fever at 101°F.

It took her some time to even process what was happening to her, she initially wondered if it could be the flu or something non-covid, but she knew she couldn’t take the chances. Harry was the first person she informed.

“What are you saying?!” Harry was frantic, his forehead creased as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing them up.

“I have a fever, a cough, and I’m having difficulty breathing,” counting the symptoms on her fingers, she informed him again.

“It could be the flu, Y/n you didn’t even go outside. How could it be anything else?”

“H, I did go out to buy supplies, didn’t I? Maybe I got infected there somehow. We shouldn’t be kidding ourselves. I have to at least get tested.” You didn’t want to show him just how scared you were, but it was hard to keep your voice from cracking.

“I am scared, H,” you let the tears out. Your shoulders shook while you tried to wipe your tears as they were leaking from your eyes.

Harry closed his eyes, not being able to see you sobbing, “I know baby, but I know you’ll be strong. I will take the next flight to LA. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promised, his mouth set in a hard line as a strong look of determination crossed his face.

She shook her head with as much strength she could muster, “No Harry, you shouldn’t keep travelling, plus, you can’t stay with me and I don’t want you staying at some hotel. It’s not safe.”

“Bu—”

“—I won’t hear another word about it. I have Sarah, and you have your work to take care of. I will be fine.”

She knew Harry wanted to say more, object to her claims, she would not be fine. But he knew it would be of no use, once she had made up her mind, it would be impossible to change it. So, he settled for a low nod.

“Keep me updated, I’ll also talk to Sarah. She better be there for it all. You should now call your doctor, see what’s the next step.”

Y/n nodded, smiling that Harry understood. She didn’t want to trouble him. She also wanted to pretend for a few more seconds that this was not a big deal.

She called Dr Gupta, her heart was beating at an all-time high and her energy was at an all-time low. She barely had enough breath to tell her doctor about her situation who booked an appointment for her to go to the nearest covid testing facility.

She took a deep breath, wore her protective gear and drove to the testing lab which was a ten-minute drive from her place. She was already out of breath by the time she reached the place.

When she was done with her test, she felt worse than she had before. Sarah called to check in on her, but Y/n didn’t have the energy to talk so Sarah video-called her, seeing Y/n’s face would have to be enough for her at that point.

Sarah’s eyes softened, seeing her best friend heaving, eyes shut and groaning due to her chest pain. But she knew, more than anything, her best friend was scared.

“I hope with everything that I am that the test comes back negative,” her voice was tinged with worry and genuine hope.

Y/n could only nod.

The call came two days later, Y/n sat up in her bed, she had been dreading this moment these past days, with Harry and Sarah to distract her.

The test came back positive.

She fell back into her bed, cushioned by her pillow and started shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed.

She felt insanely dehydrated by the time she stopped crying, she didn’t even get to call either of her friends. She stood up with a groan, and following one slow step after the other, she went to the bathroom to wash her now tear-stained face.

The call she made to Harry wasn’t an easy one. She knew he would take the news worse than she had, and her reaction was not a light one.

“I prayed. I promise I prayed Y/n,” his words were almost indecipherable in between his cries. His every tear followed the other with a ferocity never before noticed by Y/n.

Her own tears followed suite, she was so sure she had finished up all her tears, but she was proven wrong. Soon, the only conversation happening between the two was through their sobs.

She wanted to curse all the gods, she didn’t want to go through the pains of having this disease and she didn’t want to do it alone. Even though she had Harry and Sarah standing right beside her, knowing they would not be able to meet her in person, she had never felt more alone.

“I don’t feel good, H,” she confessed. Breathing was becoming difficult day by day, she would rather have an asthma attack twice a day than having this constant pressure on her chest and throat. She knew she had to tell him, “I have to get admitted to the hospital first thing in the morning tomorrow, they say my covid could be worsened because of my asthma,” she let out in between a series of coughs stopping her after every word.

Harry nodded, his heartbeat rising. He cursed himself for leaving his girlfriend alone in the country. If he hadn’t left, she would not be going through this, “I’ll tell Sarah, you go rest,” he promised, seeing it get increasingly difficult for her to even sit up in her bed.

If Y/n was scared before, then the hospital made it thousand times worse. It was a scary sight, the covid ward was in an isolated area of the hospital, the doctors and nurses were in full PPE kits, the patients were lined up next to each other separated by curtains. She passed a room with ICU written on the glass door. With what she could see, she noticed several other patients, some with masks covering their nose, probably providing oxygen. Others seemed in worse conditions, they were intubated via ventilators.

Seeing them facing the same crisis together, although away from their families, but forming a new family of sorts in solidarity to their conditions gave her little comfort. Those who wore the nasal masks and thus still had the ability to talk were speaking to each other, even reading something from their phones to those who were on ventilators. Covid had seemed like a situation she would have to go through alone, her initial views though were changing.

She was admitted to the regular covid ward, with the rest of the non-critical patients and would be observed overnight. She was assisted with oxygen through a nasal mask, just like the people around her, she had noticed.

“Hey, I’m Cecilia, call me Cece,” a thirty-something woman introduced herself from beside you. The curtain was partially open, allowing Y/n to see only her face.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” she called back, smiling as much her energy would allow.

“Never guessed this is how I would be spending my lockdown,” she laughed lightly, pointing to her mask. She then followed it up with a cough, groaning with the strain.

Y/n felt bad for her, only to be subjected to the same.

These were going to be some long days. Though she did feel better knowing she would not be facing this alone. She looked around the room, at probably twenty patients around her, in the same situation as her, if not in worse conditions. She then thought back to the people in the ICU and what they must be subjected to.

Her phone brought her attention to itself, it was Harry FaceTiming her; putting on a smile, she picked up the call.

“Hey handsome,” she suggestively raised her eyebrows, not wanting to worry him any further.

Harry did not even notice her words, he was too busy gawking at her nasal mask, “what is that?” worry coating his voice.

“Oh just my new accessory, you like it?” although Y/n wanted to look nonchalant, the pain in her voice could not be hidden, she sighed, “They are giving me oxygen through this.”

Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together in worry, Y/n wanted to make him feel better. She could not rest knowing her love was out there worrying about her, “Look I made a friend,” she turned the camera to Cece laying next to her six feet apart, “Cece, say hi to my boyfriend, Harry.”

She had forgotten her boyfriend was a big deal but was reminded of it by Cece’s gasp, “Harry freaking Styles ohmigod ohmigod,” Cece squealed, making Y/n forget for a second that she was not a teenager.

“Hullo love,” Harry greeted her in his ‘fan voice’, a smile graced her lips. “Hope you beat covid and get better soon.” Cece’s smile made Y/n realise how long these people had gone without having a reason to smile and how desperately they needed it.

Cece’s squeal garnered the attention of the people around them. Noticing the pop icon on the phone screen, conversations started flowing between everybody. Introductions were made, friendships were formed and smiles were passed around, along with Y/n’s phone. So, she asked a nearby nurse if they could access a bigger screen so everyone could see and talk to her boyfriend.

When the staff hooked up a screen, Harry gave all the patients an impromptu concert. Y/n had not smiled in days the way this concert had made her. She expected fear, anxiety, deaths and instead got friends, laughter, and music.

When Harry was done performing for his audience, he gave her a brief look. “I love you,” she whispered to him, smiling when he returned the words.

The next day, she was woken up by the noises around her, she panicked for a moment, not recognising the place she was in; but calmed when she regained her senses and noticed the blue curtains of the hospital, several machines and the people they were attached to.

She made a short conversation with Cece but had to stop because she was getting out of breath. With every passing moment, her chest pain too was increasing. She did keep listening to people chat around her. Some were on calls with their family, others were busy reading books and listening to music. She kept getting shouts of gratitude from the people in the ward for Harry the previous night.

For the next two days, that kept her going. She learned about her fellow patients, Jonathan was 59 years old, his son was an engineer and he couldn’t have been more proud; Jaya was a 42-year-old woman with bronchitis and wanted to visit Paris at least once in her life. Marc was a 50-year-old diabetic who was in a band in the 80s, they were planning a reunion show. She met countless people, each with their own stories.

At about 10 am on a Thursday, her situation worsened. The doctors had come for a routine checkup, only to see that her oxygen levels were dropping steadily and she needed immediate assistance.

She was shifted to the ICU ward. She had to be intubated and thus was given a board and marker to write anything if she wanted.

“—Yes sir, she was shifted to the ICU this morning—”

“—We can’t say much right now, but we’ll inform you if anything changes—”

“—Okay, take care, Sir.”

Y/n heard bits and pieces of the conversation her doctor was having with Harry, although since she was on medication, she couldn’t register much of it. The nurses brought her phone to her, a silhouette moving on the screen.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?”

Y/n pondered how to describe the immense pain burning through her respiratory passage and the lack of oxygen eating away her lungs and not give him nightmares. So, she offered him a tired thumbs up.

Harry watched his girlfriend cough, her face contorting in pain and could not control his tears, he didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario but could not stop his mind from going there. He knew how low the chances were of people on ventilators coming back. But he had to remain positive, someone had to. She needed him to be strong for her. So, he wiped away his tears, put on his best brave face and talked to her.

He called her every three hours. Giving updates to her about his day, talking to her about whatever he could. He talked enough to compensate for the silence on her part. She smiled through every sentence, even though he could not see it, even though it wasn’t visible on her face, even though she didn’t have the power to, she smiled.

And she listened. So she didn’t have to focus on Josephine dying next to her or Augusta who was a hair length’s distance away from dying the previous day. Even though doctors told her that her situation was worsening, she listened because that became the only thing keeping her from giving up.

As her pains didn’t go away, and her condition worsened further, she was given sedatives and was thus mostly asleep. Which she was thankful for, for she couldn’t take it anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Dr Garcia came by routinely to check on her, talking to her about the outside world, gave her the gossips being passed around the hospital. Even though she was barely awake to listen to any of it, she was thankful for the kind doctor providing a calm lull while doing her job.

“Mr Styles, I’m afraid her condition isn’t getting any better. She should have shown atleast some improvements,” Dr Garcia informed Harry in a heavy voice.

On the other side of the line, Harry didn’t know what to do, it felt like someone was pulling away the floor under him. “What happens now?” He asked, praying for some hopeful news.

“We really can’t say much, each case is different, but it would be better uhm,” the doctor was thinking through her words, wanting to be as considerate as possible, “is there any family of hers that would want to talk to her?”

Harry almost let out a sob as he realised what the doctor was implying ‘is there anyone who would want to give her a final goodbye?’

“No, Y/n’s family passed away in an accident when she was 16, it’s just me and Sarah,” he explained, his voice on the verge of cracking, it was becoming harder to get words out of his mouth. He didn’t want to talk anymore, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Oh, I understand,” Dr Garcia nodded, feeling sorry for the young girl who had stolen the hearts of everyone in the ward. She was a sweet girl, who had dreams and still held love for life even after everything she had seen. “This is not the end, Harry, she can still recover, God, I pray she does, this is not the end.” She really believed the words she was saying and wanted Harry to feel the same.

He nodded, tears clouding his eyes. He too really wanted to believe that.

A beat of silence fell upon the conversation, both in deep thought, “Harry, she wrote something on her board when she was awake yesterday,” Harry’s ears pricked up, “she wrote and I quote ‘I will not give up’ with a smiley face at the end. She is a fighter, you remember that,” Dr Garcia gave her parting ways and went back to her work.

Y/n’s words were imprinted in Harry’s mind. After the call, he made himself more presentable, wiping his tears and drove up to the church near Y/n’s house. He had come back to LA after Y/n was admitted to the ICU. He couldn’t be five thousand miles away from her in that condition.

The church was almost empty, which was surprising to Harry, given the situation, but he wasn’t complaining. He walked up the aisle, his hand grazing each wooden bench as he reached the altar and kneeled. He didn’t what to pray or how to pray, but he tried anyway. He closed his eyes and called out to God; he prayed with every part in his body, with every bone, every muscle, every fibre of being for his love to get better. For her to keep fighting. And for him to gain enough strength to deal with it all.

All this time, he had been feeling so helpless, not being able to do anything to make her better. But he made peace with the fact that the only thing he could do right now was to have faith. To have faith in God to guide him and her, in Y/n to be the stubborn strong-willed woman that she was and continue fighting, he had faith in his faith and that it would not disappoint.

He stayed there, talking to God until the closing hours. He then went back to Y/n’s place and sat on the sofa, waiting by his mobile, ready for any phone call he might receive.

He was awoken the next day by his phone ringing on the coffee table next to him. He looked at the time, it was noon, he picked up.

“Congratulations Harry, she’s getting better,” the relief was evident in Dr Garcia’s voice.

Harry felt himself getting physically lighter.

“I mean there is still a long way to go, but her oxygen levels are rising, her lungs are recovering, she’ll be soon able to breathe on her own. Harry, she did it, she won,” Harry didn’t listen to the rest of what the doctor was saying, he was too busy falling in love with the love of his life. It felt like he himself had come back from the dead. He knew his faith could never disappoint.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll be waiting for the call when you tell me she’s tested negative,” he laughed, his lungs breathing in air after what felt like a lifetime.

Dr Garcia chuckled along with him and agreed, telling him Y/n would call him when she woke up.

“You know I love you right? My fighter,” Harry tightened his grip on her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n’s head fell back as laughter bubbled out of her, “You just told me that like two minutes ago.”

“I know, but a few weeks ago I thought I would never get to say it to you ever again. So, I will keep reminding you every minute that I love you and that you are the strongest person I know,” he snaked his arms around her, placing his head on top of hers, “I really missed holding you.”

She breathed in Harry’s scent, slowly regaining her sense of smell, she had missed this too. She cupped his cheek with her right hand and gave him a light peck.

Harry grabbed the back of her head, keeping her lips on his, deepening the kiss. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, not wanting her to move even an inch away from him.

Noticing her deep breaths, he whispered in her ears, “This is the only reason I want you to be out of breath. This and well... the other one,” he smirked.

“Oh hush you,” Y/n blushed, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Shit man, I love you.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #covid19 #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #angst

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fanfic-archive · 4 years ago

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A Little More than an Alliance

Eivor Wolf-Kissed x Female Reader

Summary: Eivor has been travelling all over England, forging alliances and making a name for herself. Now she comes to your little kingdom in the hopes of forging an alliance with the king, your father.

Word Count: 3299

It was impressive, the amount of allies the Raven Clan had forged since arriving in England, and that news eventually reached your town. So, you had certainly heard the name ‘Eivor Wolf-Kissed’ before, and you supposed it was only a matter of time before she stepped foot in your little region of England.

When news of Eivor wanting to meet with the king got around, your father agreed to a talk. You, your father, and his most trusted men gathered in the throne room, waiting for the Viking to arrive.

As soon as the Dane stepped into the hall, your full attention was on her. You couldn’t help it, of course you have heard of her but you still had no idea what to expect in many ways. Now, she stood in front of you and your father.

You felt foolish, never before have you been so captivated by a person. Your father and her spoke, while you took in each detail of her appearance. Her clothes, her braids, the parts of tattoos and scars that were visible, the way she held herself and walked into the hall with purpose, like she owned the place, how she showed respect while simultaneously demanding it with just her presence.

Eivor must have noticed your staring because she glanced over at your, making eye contact for just a moment but it was enough to turn your cheeks a light shade of pink and tear your gaze way from her.

Your father, the king, had never been too fond of the Danes but you had always been more open minded, simply curious about them. The truth was, you wanted to learn more about them, preferably from Eivor.

The meeting between Eivor and your father didn’t go so well, your father didn’t seem interested in any sort of alliance but you knew that she wouldn’t give up that easily.

Once the meeting ended, your father retired to his chambers while Eivor headed out of the hall. Deciding to try your luck, just a little, you followed after the Dane.

“Excuse me” you spoke as you caught up with her, your voice making her pause and turn to you. “I’m sorry for my father’s rudeness” you apologised on the king’s behalf.

“He isn’t the first leader to protest, but I’ve never let it stop us before” she shrugged slightly.

“He isn’t...a fan of your people but I want you to know that we don’t all think the same way and that I think he will come around in time” you assured her.

“I’ve won over stubborn Saxon’s before, I’m sure I’ll manage it again” she nodded in agreement.

“I hope you do” you admitted, glancing over at the pair of your father’s men who were watching you both, likely wondering why you were talking to her without your father’s presence. “Would you walk with me?” you asked, wanting to get away from the curiously men. Eivor nodded, making you smile before you both left the hall together. “I believe an alliance between our people will benefit us both...and I confess you and your people intrigue me” you told her as the doors closed behind you.

“Is that so?” Eivor asked with a small hum, walking through the streets of the town with you.

“My father believes that your belief in multiple Gods is heathenism and therefore damning, though I imagine our belief in a singular God confuses you just as much” you shrugged.

“It’s not the belief that confuses me, but the way you worship” Eivor confessed, a little curious about what you had to say.

“We must humble ourselves before God” you explained simply.

“We seek glory in the name of our Gods, I doubt you would consider that humble. We should take pride in our glories” she shook her head, clearly disagreeing.

“Pride is a sin” you informed her playfully.

“Another confusing concept of yours: sin. Your people make sins out of our nature. It is honour that decides our fate after death” she told you.

“Your Valhalla?” you asked and she nodded in confirmation. “Now that is something I don’t understand. The feasting and celebrating sounds like a wonderful end but the continuous battles I may never understand. After everything you earn in life, don’t you want the next one to be...peaceful?” you pondered.

“And your afterlife is that?” Eivor questioned.

“...I suppose we can only hope” you sighed softly. You had faith and you trusted that faith, but nobody could know for sure.

“You are a curious princess” she smiled slightly to herself, curiously looking you up and down, which definitely made you blush again.

“Thank you” you smiled softly, hoping that your flushed face wasn’t too noticeable. “I wish to further understand your people. Understanding and respect are the only things that can bring us together” you insisted.

Eivor went to speak but was interrupted by a man calling your name. The two of you turned to see one of your father’s most trusted men, one that you had known since you were a child, approaching you both. “Your father has requested your presence” he told you.

You nodded before turning back to Eivor. “I have to go” you sighed, sounding disappointed. “But I enjoyed our talk and I trust you don’t plan on leaving until you have formed an agreement, so perhaps we could talk further when you have the time?” you looked up at her with a hopeful gaze, and she had to admit that she wouldn’t mind speaking with you some more.

“It would be my pleasure” she nodded, smiling at you. You returned her smile before heading off to speak with your father.

Eivor watched you walk away with a small smile on her face, just has she had captured your attention, you had captured hers.

Unsurprisingly, Eivor did stay, continuing to speak with your father about possible alliances.

Though, she spent a good portion of her days speaking with you instead. She told you all about Norway and her life there, why she and her clan came to England, and their journey here. Your favourite stories where the ones she told you of her Gods, even they were flawed being and you found that you liked that.

Of course, you told her about your life growing up in England, laughing at the vast differences of your experiences. She told you about her experiences, but they were things you could only imagine. Your stories just didn’t compare in your eyes, they weren’t nearly as interesting in your opinion.

Eivor just had so many stories, either from her life or about her Gods, and she told them so well, so poetically. Each and every one held your fascination, you could just listen to her for hours on end.

You had offered to give her a proper tour of the town, the two of you got some curious looks from the people you passed, the Saxon Princess and the Danish drengr, but neither of you cared much. She had even taken you out of town for the day, without your father’s knowledge. It had proven surprisingly ease to sneak around to spend time with this fascinating woman.

All the while, Eivor was making impressive strides in forging an alliance with your father. She wasn’t doing it alone though, you were helping, trying to convince your father to consider the proposition.

It wasn’t too long before your father realised that both you and the Raven Clan had a shared enemy, Kind Alfred. So, your father set the terms of the alliance, if Eivor could help him and his men eliminate Alfred’s control over the region, she would have him as an ally.

Your father had only recently left for the camp that they were going to regroup at, leaving you with a goodbye and a promise to return.

Now you stood alone in the empty throne room, which would undoubtable be the place you waited until they all returned safely. You were just about to sit down when the front doors opened and Eivor walked into the room.

“Eivor, you haven’t gone yet?” you were definitely surprised to see her here, having assumed she would be one of the first at the camp, preparing for battle.

“I wanted to come and tell you that we’d be attacking Aelfred’s men tonight, I am meeting your father at the camp soon” she explained her presence. Knowing that she had come to see you just to say goodbye made you smile just a little, you would have smiled more if you hadn’t been so worried.

“I know, he just left to prepare” you nodded, walking towards her so that you both met in the centre of the hall. “Tell me, Eivor, are you even better in battle than you are at diplomacy?” you asked.

“The battlefield is almost like a second home to me” she nodded, her brow furrowing in confusion and curiosity at your question.

“Good...then I suppose I have nothing to worry about” the answer didn’t really do anything to put your mind at ease, you already knew about her prowess on the battlefield, you had heard the stories...and yet you still worried about her.

“You’re worried we won’t succeed?” Eivor questioned you with a small frown.

“Well...yes, but not because I’m doubting your abilities. I’m more concerned about your safe return” you confessed.

“I’ll be fine, we’ll likely be back sometime tomorrow” she promised you, sounding confident in it.

“And you’ll look out for my father, it’s been some time since he saw battle” you requested. He had never been a coward in a fight but you still worried about him, he was family after all.

“I will, I promise” she nodded before turning to leave.

You hadn’t expected her to try to leave so suddenly, there were still things you wanted to say to her.

“Eivor” you swiftly caught her hand in yours, making her stop and turn back to you. She looked at you expectantly, seeing the worry written on your face. “Please be careful” your voice was soft, like a quiet prayer.

“You don’t need to worry” Eivor raised her hand, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear with a surprisingly soft smile on her face.

Both her smile and gesture were gentle, more gentle than one might expect from a drengr such as herself. You had learnt during your time with her that she certainly did have a gentle side to her, one that she had been kind enough to show to you.

“I’ll be back soon, after we claim our victory” she assured you, her hand slipping around to the back of your neck before pulling you closer.

You went to speak, to question her, but you where quickly shut up. Your eyes widened slightly as her lips pressed against yours firmly. Slowly coming out of your surprised stated, your eyes fluttered shut and your hands rested on her arms as you returned the intense kiss. You had never felt so much heat and passion in a single gesture...or at all for that matter.

Eivor broke away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. She brushed her thumb over your cheek before pulling away from you completely, walking out of the hall to prepare for battle, leaving you standing in the middle of the throne room, slightly stunned by the sudden development.

The next day your father and his men returned, just like they all promised. Your father had greeted you with the good news and a hug before taking his place on his throne, you standing by his side as he spoke to two of his men.

You had been paying attention to the conversation...until Eivor walked into the hall. As soon as you saw her, you were solely focused on her, and you were sure that your face just lit up at the sight of her.

The truth was that you just wanted to run to her, but you knew that you couldn’t. So, you stayed put, just grateful for her safe return. She seemed glad to see you as well, greeting you with a nod and a smile, both of which you returned.

Everyone had returned, the dead had been honoured, the battle was won, and an alliance had been forged. So, it was time to celebrate, and everyone did so with a feast.

As the men, Saxon and Dane alike, celebrated with food, drink, and music, your father sat up on his throne looking on with pride.

You had left your father’s side, approaching Eivor, who was leaning against a wooden post in a quieter part of the hall. “Your people seem much better at celebrating than mine” you commented, getting the woman’s attention.

“I’d have to agree with you” Eivor nodded as you moved to stand beside her, the two of you watching the more rowdy Danes attempting to bring out the worst in the more reserved Saxons.

“...it looks like fun” you sighed.

“It is. Why don’t you join in?” she asked, looking down at you.

“I can’t” you shook your head, sounding displeased.

“Of course you can. You’re a princess, you can do whatever you want, especially if that thing is celebrating” Eivor chuckled a little, seemingly not understanding your claim.

“My father considers it indecent of me to join in with the festivities” you told her, making her roll her eyes.

She seemed to think about something for a moment before looking back at you. “Come on” she nodded at you to follow her before walking off.

You frowned slightly in confusion but followed after her anyway. She grabbed two tankards off of a table, filling them with mead, before heading for the front door. You were still none the wiser as to what was going on in her head but you didn’t question it, you only followed curiously.

Following her outside, you let the doors close behind you both before coming to a stop around the side of the building. It was dark outside now, the night sky lit up by the moon and the stars, the glow from the torches lighting up the town. Everyone else was in the hall, so it was just the two of you were out here, making it all the more peaceful.

“I guess you’ll be returning home now” you realised with a dejected sigh, taking a sip of your mead.

“I will. I’ve finished my business here, and I am needed back in Ravensthorpe” Eivor nodded, drinking from her own mead.

You have had some time to think about what you wanted out of life and you knew that now was the only time you might get to ever seek something new. “Would you take me with you? Back to Ravensthorpe?” you asked, knowing that the question was probably surprising.

“Now, why would you want that?” she did sound curious but she seemed to hide her surprise pretty well. “I love my father and I love our home, and I don’t plan on cutting all ties, but I don’t think my place is here anymore...I think there’s something more for me out there” you confessed, looking over at her and attempting to disguise the longing in your gaze. You succeeded...partly.

“I’m not one to try to talk somebody out of following their fate but I have to ask, why don’t you think your place is here?” she didn’t sound judgemental, she just wanted to better understand.

“I will never be considered for the throne and I’m okay with that, I don’t think I even want it, but if I am not here to be my father’s heir...there is no real role for me here” you explained honestly.

“And what would your role be in Ravensthorpe?” Eivor questioned and you paused for a moment. She made a fair point, what use would you be to the Raven Clan?

“...I guess I’ll have to figure that out” you confessed with another sigh, looking out at the quiet town in front of you. Surely, she wouldn’t accept your request, she had no reason too.

“I’m sure I can think of a place for you” she reassured you casually, taking another drink.

“Really?” your head shot round to look at her with widened eyes. “Is that you agreeing?” you asked.

“Will your father allow it?” she answered your question with another question.

“He won’t like it but I don’t think he could stop me, nor would he break his alliance with you. He never was too fond of Danes but he is a man of his word, plus I believe you have won him over on your people” you told her.

“Tonight we celebrate, we leave tomorrow morning...we’ll speak with your father then” she nodded, not even questioning her decision.

“Before we leave, I must ask...before you left to fight Alfred’s men...” the confidence you just had, asking to leave with her, faded as you brought up the subject that you really wanted to talk about.

“Yes?” a small smirk tugged at her lips.

“What was that?” you asked.

“What was what?” she was teasing you now and you knew it, she wasn’t even attempting to hide her smirk.

“Eivor” you groaned in frustration and embarrassment, but she just chuckled. “The kiss, what was that?” you asked, a light blush spreading over your cheeks as you hung your head slightly to avoid her gaze.

“Did you not enjoy it?” Eivor asked but it didn’t really sound like a genuine question. You guessed that she already knew the answer, she was just teasing you.

“Yes, I...of course” you assured her quickly, making her smile. “I was just wondering what it meant...” your words drifted off again.

“Well...” Eivor smiled as she placed her tankard down and turned to you, “...I meant...” she reached out tenderly and pushed some hair out of your face, reminding you of your encounter before she left for battle, “...that I would like it if you joined me in Ravensthorpe.”

Her answer made you smile, glad to hear that you meant as much to her as she meant to you. This time you were less surprised when she cupped your cheek in her hand and lent in to capture your lips in a kiss, her other hand resting on your waist.

You placed your tankard down as carefully as you could as you returned her kiss, bringing both of your hands up to cup her face. The hand against your cheek fell to grip the other side of your waist as Eivor pulled you closer to her, making you wrap your arms around her neck.

This kiss was even better than the last and you hoped that there would be many more in the future. The way she kissed you, the way she touched you, even the way she looked at you, lit a fire in you that you had never experienced before and you didn’t ever want to lose that feeling.

You reluctantly broke the kiss but didn’t pull away from her. “Come with me” you practically whispered as you took her hand in yours, stepping away from her.

“Where are we going?” Eivor asked curiously, letting you guide her around the longhouse, towards one of the doors around the back.

“Tonight is about celebrating, is it not?” you asked, looking back over your shoulder at her with a small smirk of your own.

Eivor smirked in return, quickly catching on to your plans for the evening, letting you sneak her back to your chambers.

Once you reached your chamber, you closed the door and returned to Eivor’s embrace. She instantly pulled you into another kiss, and before you knew it she was lowering you onto your back on the furs of your bed.

#eivor x reader #eivor wolfkissed x reader #eivor #eivor wolfkissed #assassins creed valhalla #my writing

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yejiroh · 4 years ago

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Runaway Bride

Yandere! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

Part 3

Authors note: Hello everyone! Thank you for being here for the (most likely) final part of the Runaway Bride story!

Tag list: @yanderes-are-the-best @ejeeart @misskuudere-chan @fatherrrora

***

It was a race against time. As the news reported false information, Chrollo and his subordinates continued to search for the Nen user they needed. Meanwhile, Y/n continued to change her appearance, running farther and farther away.

A rough hand slammed against the table, a chewed bullet resting beside it.

Gripping his hair, Uvo screamed in frustration as they had lost another person. It was amazing how many people had such a good sense of smell, yet died the second they smelled Y/n’s belongings.

“How many does that make?”

“I think that was the 19th person. “

“You’re kidding.”

“Uvo, there’s literally bodies behind your chair. “

Kortopi walked in, messy hair hiding his face like usual. He did not say anything, but a curt nod to the two made them stand up and follow him out of the hotel room.

Feitan stood in the hallway, knife in hand.

“Anything new?”

Shalnark shook his head ‘no’ with a sigh.

“The boss isn’t going to like this…”

Scratching his chin, Uvo pondered aloud “Why doesn’t he just take their Nen and use that? Doesn’t he take Nen abilities that he likes?”

“Doesn’t work like that, and Uvo, how come you’re the one coming up with all the ideas?”

��I’m not sure. All I did was drink a case of beer this morning.”

“What are we gonna tell the boss? It’s already been some time- oh god, what if Y/n, you know- committed-”

“She wouldn’t do that unless it would be fun. It’s not fun when you’re scared.”

“Maybe she’s not scared? Huh, what about then, Uvo?”

“Would you two please shut u-”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT!”

“Hm?”

“Call the boss now, I just figured it out! Ooh, Y/n is smart!”

“No shit Shalnark.”

“Just call Chrollo.”

***

Dark eyes stared back at each other, the only thing separating the pur reflection was the spider web cracks of the glass mirror. Phone ringing, a gloved hand went to pick it it up, pressing the speaker icon.

“Any new-”

“BOSS! IT’S INTOXICATION! EVERYONE’S DYING BECAUSE OF INTOXICATION-”

“Explain Shalnark.”

A deep breath was heard in the other side of the phone, and the younger man began to speak rapidly.

“Okay, so basically, everyone- besides us, or people who have generally been close to Y/n for a while, are either passing out or dropping dead like flies right? It’s her! A part of her Nen- I think. Some sort of precaution since she was always on the move, ya know?”

“How does that help us find her?”

“Well, we just need someone who can sniff her out without any damage- so back to our original idea, we just need to smell her out! We had the wrong scent cause we were tracking her by her stuff, not her!”

Chrollo looked at himself, mouth slightly open. Of course! How had he not seen it before? Hadn’t Y/n mentioned something like that before? Smacking his head, he began to laugh, a wicked smile plastered on his face.

“Oh god, thank you Shalnark, I can do this on my own now- let everyone know to return to the hotel, and clean up the mess. My runaway bride is coming back.”

“Understood.”

Hanging up, the man hurried out of the bathroom, grabbing a black bag, laughing maniacally.

Now all Chrollo had to do was get ready.

***

Sweat dripped down the side of her nose, hitting the countertop. It was to be expected that running from Chrollo of all people would be difficult. Y/n shook her head, refusing to think of why it was a bad idea to run. The bastard had too much control over her already. A hand in her hair, Y/n looked up, having forgotten that she had cut quite a bit off earlier. Eyes on her hair, Y/n inhaled deeply, calming herself as she tried to stop the tears before they could come.

Gray eyes shone like jewels, boring into her own, soft strands of ebony hair framed his face beautifully as he looked down on Y/n, arms around her, a smile on his face.

“You’re so beautiful love, smile for me?”

“Chrollo, I’m nothing special- we both know that.”

“Ah, but you are; to me, you always look like you’ve just fallen from the heavens, just for me!”

A playful chuckle from Chrollo as he blushed. It was a cold night, and the secret visits he would make just for Y/n were treasured. Holding her closer, he moved a stray strand of hair from her face, pecking Y/n’s nose. Ticklish as it was, she let out a giggle.

“Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you love.”

“WHAT THE HELL! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ASSHOLE!”

Y/n hit the table, grabbing her keys. If she was going to dream about the man, it wasn't going to be now.

***

Various parts of red roses lay scattered on the floor thorns, petals, leaves, and if you looked very closely, pollen. Various gifts lined the walls, all wrapped up nicely. Soon, guests would be filling the seats, and Chrollo would once again stand at the altar, and once again he would expect Y/n too walk out those doors oh so bashfully. But this time he would take her hands into his own, tell her how utterly beautiful she looked, and skip the vows- the faster, the better.

Why was he even going through with marriage if he already had Y/n tightly wrapped around his finger, under lock and key? It’s not like they pay taxes, and he never wanted to marry- and Y/n didn’t care for it.

‘Because it’s poetic you fool.’

This whole ordeal, just to add another story to his vast collection? Chrollo let out a laugh; to think that he had wasted precious months for the sake of poetry amused him.

Sliding off one of the silver bands off his ring finger, he set it on the pedestal, messing up his silky black hair.

“Why waste time slicking your hair back if you have such pretty locks?” Y/n looked up, eyes wide as her hands raked through his just washed hair.

“Gets in my face too much. And it gives me a cool vibe when I slick it back.”

Y/n stopped, bursting into laughter as she uncoiled the hair dryer’s wire. Plugging it in, she sat on the couch, grabbing a comb.

“Let me dry it properly- you're gonna get sick!”

“If you insist- there’s no need to though.”

“Sure there is! Now come on, sit here.”

Between her legs, Chrollo hummed in content as the hair dryer blew hot air all around and the comb’s teeth raked through all the little knots.

“I seriously can’t believe you're this pretty, Chrollo. I feel like seeing you like this is illegal!”

“Well, thank you.”

Chrollo leaned back, head hitting the couch cushion. Grabbing Y/n’s thighs, he lifted her legs onto his shoulders, basking in the soft warmth.

Heaving a sigh, Chrollo adjusted his tie, and headed out to retrieve his bride.

***

The T.V. blared as the flashy icon of the station appeared, the host and hostess of the night smiling proudly as they set their papers down on the prop desk.

“It’s 10 o’clock, do you know where your children are?”

“Hello everyone, I’m Raiyah Ourani,”

“And I’m Bobby McOkazawoo.”

“It has now been 4 months since the disappearance of Y/n L/n. In that time authorities have been conducting investigation after investigation, but no new news has yet to be released. However, the Grungingham Ball House assures the people of Yorknew that their organization is completely safe, and for any future customers to not be shy as they have updated the security, granting the safety they desire as well as the fun time they want.”

“Coming up: Are DonaldMc’s really everywhere within 5 miles? Now, a word from our sponsors.”

“NEW! Scrubbing bubbles foam tastic-super mega ultra is THE cleaning solution to all of your dirty needs! Skin safe to use as a lubricant, and a natural cleanser! You can use it on windows, counters, and so much more!”

Y/n turned the T.V. off, rubbing her temples. Looking at the clock on the wall, it was now 0:45 p.m. Who knew so much time would pass by just from a commercial? About to grab her phone, Y/n suddenly froze; her phone was on, a text notification on the screen.

‘Where are you, darling?’

A hand on her mouth, she quickly grabbed her jacket. There was no time, she'd have to leave everything behind now or never. It’d be too risky to go out the door- there could well be innocents or perhaps Chrollo himself.

“Please tell me he sent Uvo…”

After the first escape, she couldn’t possibly go out the window; they’d expect that. The door, or the window?

She looked around the room: too big to go into the vents, too risky to go out the window or door. So how do you escape?

Another ping from the phone, but Y/n didn’t dare look at it. Paranoid, she steadied her breathing; can’t have them sniff her out too easily.

But…

If Chrollo wasn’t at the door, then she could use her Nen...everyone would either die or pass out, but it would be a better fate then having to deal with Chrollo’s or any of the spider’s blood lust.

A deep breath, she released her ability, and opened the door, running as fast as she could, not bothering to see who would have been near the door. She could hear laughter, crunches, dancing feet- all innocents, but there had to be someone, anyone. There was no way Chrollo wouldn’t have sent someone.

‘It’s like last time…’

Pulling her hoodie over her face, she scanned the crowd before turning around. About to scream, she covered her mouth, looking up at the man who she had bumped into.

Chrollo smiled kindly.

“Nice hair. Where have you been?”

"Chrollo, please n-"

With a flick of his wrist, he had knocked his former fiance unconscious, putting her on his back as if she had just fallen asleep- not like the locals would know. It wouldn’t matter anyways.

He had gotten his runaway bride back, and this time, he would have his wedding and poem complete.

#yandere chrollo #meena #x reader #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh x reader #fem reader #hxh chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo #hxh #fanfiction

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do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 4 years ago

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EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

#is this even good #i wrote this instead of an essay #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x reader #me 🤝 commas #me 🤝 ... okay #the quality of this fic 📈📉📈📉📈

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twilightprince101 · 3 years ago

Text

Packmates

So I've been needing to do some Flash Fiction stuff for my writing class recently and I've had this original idea in my head for a long while at this point. It was HEAVILY inspired by Lera Lynn's "Wolf Like Me" (thanks again Delta for showing me this album) and it's one of the few things I feel REAL proud putting out! So woe! Gay and depressed werewolves be upon ye!

“The Blood Moon draws near.”

“I’m ready.”

“You have said so often this night.”

“I’m aware.”

“Why do you repeat those words so?”

“Is ‘because you asked’ not the right choice?”

“There is a lack of conviction in your voice.”

“I’m tired, you know that by now.”

“But what is it you refer to?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Is it the exhaustion that comes from a great hunt, one that seeps through your limbs and gives you aches that spare your quarter?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Or is it the dreariness of fog that clouds your mind, seeps your vitality drop by drop until naught an ounce of bloodlust remains?”

“That too, I suppose.”

“...Your conviction wavers.”

“Can it not be both?”

“Exhaustion, though inconvenient, is a natural calling deep within oneself. It is a hunter’s blessing in disguise, as one cannot pursue their prey if not at full strength. Dreariness is the fatigue of the soul, an infestation of hopelessness. Neither are permanent, though the latter plagues those inflicted with insidious thoughts.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“...no, I did not.”

“...”

“...Do you wish to rest before the hour comes?”

“Wouldn’t that be pointless? Considering ‘the gift’ and all that I’m going to get?”

“Perhaps, but have you not gone to great lengths to let me join in pointless activities with you over these long years?”

“.....well, can’t argue with that I guess.”

“Take reprieve in my fur, the wind bares its frost-bitten teeth this deep in the woods.”

“Oh yeah, I guess this’ll be the last chance we really get to do it like this huh?”

“Should you join us there shall be many chances. But yes, if you wish, this will be the last.”

“Yeah, thanks Katey.”

“...”

“...Do you remember what it’s like?”

“Hm?”

“Without fur, I mean. Do you remember what it feels like?”

“What thought led to this question?”

“I dunno, just…”

“...Echoes of memories come and pass, sensations of touch that are not there.”

“Do you miss it at all?”

“My memories have not faded, Jakie. Though they ebb and flow from my mind, they remain. I still remember it all.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that many times.”

“...I do remember that time long ago, when I did not bear this fur or wear these claws. I remember the cold that stung our skin, the scrapes and cuts that adorned our hairless hands.”

“Do you only remember the bad things? Or have those ebbed from your mind as well?”

“I recall them as well, Jackie. The feeling of grass pricking against our bare feet as we ran through these woods as one. The currents brushing against us as we fought the tides of the sea. I especially remember that day you had fallen into a gardener’s crop and had me accompany you in that mess you created.”

“Pfft, really now? That’s one of the things you still remember?”

“Though my mind has changed, my memories have not.”

“.....and?”

“While a part of me does reminisce of those days back home, this change of mine has given me new blessings. My claws assure me in the face of danger, my fur assures me in the face of nature. In my life, this is one of the few times I feel secure in myself.”

“Do you… feel better though? Happier? Will I feel...?”

“.........I cannot say.”

“...”

“...” “...”

“......my apologies. I have… ruined the mood, as I believe you phrase it.”

“No, no it’s okay… actually, now that I think about it, when did you first start getting so poetic?”

“Pardon me?”

“This whole... thing where you talk really fancy and in metaphors. I recognized you starting a while ago, but did you have to read through a dictionary? Or does transforming include suddenly becoming shakespearean?”

“I don’t believe that’s the right term, but yes, to my knowledge this happened gradually since I was given this gift.”

“So then, do you think when I transform tonight the same thing will happen to me? Like you bite me then I have all of medieval theater beamed into my head? Will I be The Shakespeare of Wolves?”

“It is likely, though I will not deny, it would be a shock. I have grown quite fond of the way you speak, compared to my packmates. It is akin to, say, witnessing a fish leap from a flowing stream.”

“You did that one on purpose, didn’t you?!”

“Perhaps I did, perhaps not~"

“Oooh you better watch out, when I join the pack I’m going to destroy you in the weekly poetry slams!”

“Heh, we do not have ‘slams of poetry’ where I will go. Most of our focus is turned to the hunt, though perhaps you could make a fine diplomat between packs.”

“Well, maybe I could bring poetry slams to the pack. We both could! You didn’t go to many but you still know what they’re like, what’s stopping us?”

“That would be… the moon. I do not believe recreation would become much of a priority to you once you shift tonight. Especially for you, considering the ritual.”

“Oh. Yeah, right.”

“...”

“.......”

“...........”

“...you can still leave Jakie.”

“You know I can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“You know why.”

“What of August, who had assisted us in Maplecrest? Or your bloodmate, here in Bloomfield?”

“It’s not me needing somewhere to go Kate. I know that they’d both welcome me back.”

“Then why do you persi-”

“I thought you said your memories were all still there.”

“...I have not forgotten our promise, Jakie.”

“Then you have your answer. I didn’t leave you back then, I’m not leaving you here.”

“...Jakie.”

“Don’t.”

“I am grateful for your assistance all these years, for your companionship. You have offered me comfort, companionship and assistance without question.”

“I said stop, Katie.”

“I shall always be grateful, however you must ask yourself whether or not you should continue to uphold these vows. If the Katie you loved--”

“What’s your problem?! I thought the whole thing with you is that you want to bite people, change people!”

“We do not offer this gift to all those we encounter. Only those who we find--”

“‘A spark of devotion,’ yeah I get it you’ve said that thousands of times already! So then why is it only with me you try to talk someone out of it?!”

“Beca-”

“And don’t say lack of conviction. I said I’ve wanted this for months now, that’s the whole reason we’re here!”

“...............”

“Well?!”

“I… ponder if you would believe me.”

“Spit it out.”

“...because I have always seen you as my packmate.”

“..............”

“...since my mind has changed, I have gained new desires. Whatever old ties I had have long been cut. Yet despite my change you’ve been by my side. My fur warms my body--you have warmed my soul, and that sensation shall never fade.”

“...you didn’t answer me.”

“......Should you accept my gift tonight you shall change eternally. Your conviction here lies with me, but should you accept our gift your soul will be tied to the hunt. I do not wish for you to change with your mind lingering on regrets of what could have been. I respect you as a packmate, Jakie. I wish for your choice to be true.”

“Don’t you get it? What I want is to be with you! You’re my friend, I’ve helped you all this time, I love you!”

“But through these years, have you been happy?”

“..........”

“You say this is your duty, it may be what you desire. But protecting me, has it made you happy? Can you look upon the fields of missed opportunities that have passed without a hint of longing?”

“............”

“I have never needed protection, you know as well as I. These past years of devotion, it has helped you survive. But what I yearn for is for you to live. Abandoning your own self… Do you believe you will be happy then?”

“...........”

“.......god damn it. You never made things easy, did you?”

“I am who I am now, Jakie. I cannot give you more than that.”

“........I don’t want to leave you. I don’t even know if I can. I’ve spent so long helping you I don’t know if I… know anything else. What would I even do?”

“I… do not know. But I have seen your conviction these past years--you have several paths ahead of you. Whatever you may choose, I have faith in you. You shall always be my packmate.”

“.......yeah. Yeah…. Yeah.”

“..........”

“...............”

“...the Blood Moon has nearly reached its peak.”

“.......could we just sit together, just for a bit longer?”

“Of course.”

“....thank you.”

“.........”

“.........I love you, Katie.”

“I love you too, Jakie.”

#original writing #werewolves #my writing #blood moon #lycanthropy #depression #codependency #twi talks #gay werewolves #((haven't posted much original stuff on here huh #wanna try to do more of this if I can))

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kaaytea · 4 years ago

Text

Nishinoya Yuu x reader

Summary:

[11:56 pm, October 9th]

“I’m totally gonna blame Tanaka if this goes wrong”

Warnings: none just good, wholesome Nishi content :)

A/n: ITS MY BABY’S BIRTHDAY!! I love Noya unconditionally and felt the need to write my boy a bday fic. Uh anyways happy birthday king, you deserve the world ❤️

----------------------------------------------------------

What the hell were you doing? Why, in any circumstance, did you think this was a good idea? Oh right, because your brain is dUmB and you feel obliged to do good things for people you love.

So here you were, 11:56 in the evening, a bag with clothes tucked under your arm along with a small box wrapped in bright orange paper, standing in front of your boyfriend’s house.

‘If I fall asleep in class today I’m blaming Tanaka because he’s the one who encouraged this stupid ass idea.’

You quickly scuttled to the front door in hopes of escaping the slight chill of early October. Tentatively, you reached out for the doorknob, twisting it slightly to find it was still unlocked just as planned.

'Thank God Yuu’s mom is so go with the flow. I’m sure any other parent would have had a heart attack at the prospect of leaving their house unlocked so their son’s s/o could sneak in during the dead of the night’

You quietly slipped into the house, making sure you locked the door securely once inside and tiptoed down the hall in the direction of Yuu’s room. You stopped in front of the door unsure of how you wanted to do this. Tanaka had had jokingly told you to jump onto his bed and scare the shit out of the energetic libero. Ennoshita, on the other hand, recommended a softer approach. His reasoning being: “It’s his birthday after all.”

What would Yuu do if he was in your position?

…..

Scaring the shit out of him it is!

You cracked open the door to his room making sure he was asleep before you began your attack.

Yuu was sprawled out on his stomach, his bangs brushing over his eyes in its natural state, his head was turned towards the door with an arm tucked under his pillow, the other hanging off the edge of the bed.

'Cute~’

You stepped into his room lightly and placed your bag and his present near the door. You pulled out your phone and checked the time.

[11:59 pm October, 9th]

[12:00 am October, 10th]

It’s go time

You rushed forward and launched yourself onto the bed in front of you, “Happy birthday Nishi!”

A startled yelp and a loud thud followed your actions. You quickly looked over the edge of the mattress to find your sleepy boyfriend rubbing his head with a dazed, confused expression.

“Oh my god, Yuu I’m so sorry!” You slid off the bed and sat next to him on the floor, brushing your hand over the spot he hit his head. Nishinoya looked up at you then tilted his head resembling a puppy.

“(y/n)? What are you doing here?”

“surprise?” You raised your hands and shook them in a 'jazzy’ motion, “Happy birthday.”

All hints of sleep left his face immediately as realization dawned on him, in a split second he was on his feet. He switched on the lamp near his bed and grabbed his phone.

[12:01 am October, 10th]

“ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!” He let out a laugh and toppled you into a hug, you giggled at his antics and returned the affections. When you both pulled away he had the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Oh! I have to give you your gift!”

You shot up and went to grab the orange box that sat unnoticed on your night bag. You turned around, gift in hand, to find Yuu sitting on his bed again, kicking his feet back and forth as he waited for you to join him. You sat down facing him, the blankets were still warm from when he was sleeping prior to your birthday attack. Nishinoya excitedly turned towards you buzzing with energy.

A smile graced your lips as you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, Noya let out a happy hum from the kiss. You silently handed him the box and watched him inspect it.

He was fully concentrated as he inspected the gift, turning the box over in his hands shaking it here and there.

“What’s in it?”

“I’m not gonna just tell you, you’ve got to open it and find out!”

Noya tore off the paper, not before placing the black gift bow onto your head with a grin, and opened the box.

“OOOHH!! New knees pads! How did you know I needed a new pair?” He said, pulling the black pads out of the box, his eyes full of joy.

You laughed at his expression, “I heard you mention it to Daichi when I came to see you at practice a few weeks ago. But that’s not all! Look at the sides of them.”

He looked up at you, his nose scrunched up in confusion. He gently turned the pads to their sides, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

On the sides of the black knee pads you had embroidered small, yellow lighting bolts.

“(Y/N) THESE ARE SO COOL! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!” he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a kiss, you sighed into it relieved he liked the present so much.

After breaking the kiss he stood up and slipped the knee pads on. He turned his legs at odd angles to get a better look at the small lightning bolts, giggling out of happiness.

After a thorough evaluation of the knee pads, he slipped them off and gently placed them into a safe pocket in his Volleyball bag. He then bounced back over to you and kissed your nose.

“Thanks again, that’s probably the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten!”

“No problem Yuu.”

A soft knock at his door had you both looking over your shoulders. Nishinoya’s mom stood in the doorway holding two steaming mugs. A wave of guilt crashed into you.

“I didn’t wake you up when I came in did I?” You asked nervously.

She shook her head and came over to the two of you, handing you both a mug of what you now noticed was hot chocolate, “No no you’re fine dear, I wanted to stay up to make sure you got here safely.” She gave you a warm smile and then turned to Noya.

“Happy birthday Yuu,” she said before leaning down and kissing the top of his head.

“Thanks, mom,” he replied, bringing the mug to his lips and sipping tentatively at the hot beverage.

Noya’s mom started making her way out of the room, “You two better not stay up late, you still have to meet the team for practice in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure we don’t,” you told her with a reassuring look.

She gave you both one last warm smile and a soft goodnight before quietly closing the door.

Two mugs, both now cold and empty, sat on Yuu’s desk. The both of you were curled together under his comforter, your hand twirling a lock of his duel colored hair. Everything was quiet and warm, neither of you had spoken for a few minutes, you just laid there looking back at each other drinking in the soft atmosphere.

Nishinoya snuggled closer to you with a yawn, his arm thrown over your waist and your legs tangled together. You pressed your forehead to his before softly bumping your noses together.

“I’m so grateful for you,” he whispered out, “you really make every day special…even the most boring days turn into an adventure when you’re by my side.”

Your face burned at his words. Noya was usually a more touch-driven person who preferred to show his love through actions; it was rare that he openly expressed his appreciation for you in such a poetic way.

“One day I want to go on a larger adventure together, I want to go discover and experience things with you, explore uncharted waters like uhhhh…….Australia!”

“Australia?”

“I don’t know that’s the first place that popped into my head. Why don’t you choose, where should we go together?”

You pondered for a moment, “I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.”

“Italy it is then!” He kissed your lips and tried to pull you closer against him, even though your bodies were already pressed against each other.

“Thanks for such a great birthday,” he mumbled languidly.

“It’s only been your birthday for about an hour, it’s nowhere near over yet.” You ran your hand soothingly through his hair, letting him lean into your touch.

“Still, even if it ended right now I would be perfectly happy because I got to spend that hour with you.”

#Nishinoya Yuu #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya scenarios #nishinoya imagine #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!#nishinoya yū #haikyuu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x you

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wendibird · 4 years ago

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SPN 15X19 Observations

So, here we are. Second-to-last episode of this show and what has been said will be the Season Finale. (While next week’s is the Series Finale.)

Without further ado...

I don’t even know what to think going into this second-to-last episode. I don’t expect a “happy” ending to this show. But I can’t help hoping for a fitting one. One that makes some kind of sense. That does the characters justice. We’ll see how it goes. (Also, I want some GOOD content for Sam. *LOL*)

(Also, my notes might be sparse because I want to concentrate on the show.)

- Everyone’s gone.

- Except these three.

- Does Sam and Jack know about Cas?

- THEY DON’T KNOW YET!!! *crying* (To be clear, not upset that Dean didn’t tell them sooner. Since obviously there had to be a phone conversation at some point, or at least texting so they’d know where to meet up. THAT kind of news isn’t something to tell over the phone if you can help it.)

- The music is really playing this up well.

- Oh Jack…..

- And he’s still killing plants.

Commercial Thoughts:

I’ve said this again and again but I still don’t like how Chuck is being written. He might as well be rubbing his hands and cackling evilly.

That being said, this really is sadistic. One of the few things that’s kept Sam and Dean going through all of this has been the people they’ve been able to save. (Crowely caught on to that in S8 and used it to good effect. But he was like a sniper, precise with it. Chuck is like a fricking nuke.)

And Sam losing hope always makes me sad. (Have noticed the looks Dean keeps giving him. Still checking on him and how he’s doing and worrying about him.)

- This camera work is weird. Dream-like?

- DOGGY!!!!!

- omg Dean’s happy about a dog!

- WOW. That’s a new low.

- So, no animals? (Guess they’re gonna have to go vegetarian eventually if this doesn’t get fixed.)

- Michadam!!!

- WHAT?! (No Adam?! HOW DARE CHUCK!!!)

Commercial Thoughts:

Okay, Chuck taking Adam is a really REALLY low-blow! (But then, that might be what pushed Michael to decide to help them after all.)

Not surprised that Michael can’t open the book. Wondering if Jack can? Or they could call some reapers and see who wants the job of the next Death. *LOL* Hold interviews. “What will you do for us if we give you this promotion?” (crack thoughts, don’t mind me.)

I’m not sure if Chuck has realized that they have nothing left to lose. And that’s generally when people are at their most dangerous. (I mean yes, they have each other, but in the wake of what’s been lost? Literally the whole world? They can’t let that go. They can’t just sit back and treat it as a vacation. It’s not how they are.)

- CAS?!

- WTF?!?!?!?! (Did NOT want to see Lucifer again tbh. And apparently neither did Dean. *LOL*)

- Okay, so Lucifer promoted the next Death.

- Is he actually dead this time?

- One can only hope.

- YEY! LUCIFER IS DEAD AGAIN!!!

Commercial thoughts:

So…. what was the point of all that again?

Okay, I get that in the end, the book is open and now they can hopefully read it. Seems kind of convoluted. (Also, do NOT get me started on the whole “God and the Darkness have no pull in the Empty”. Unless God just replicated Lucifer, like I theorize he did with Lilith.)

Wondering if they just did all that to have Luci and Mark P. back one more time.

- Sam being his super-smart self! <3

- What is Sam not saying?

- Hey! Isn’t that the lake where Jack was born?

- FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!! Fricking Michael.

- Bloody winchesters

- That’s what Sam wasn’t saying. I don’t think they trusted Michael.

- Sam figured something out.

- Wow. That is some poetic justice!

- I’m actually impressed with that.

- So now what?

Commercial Thoughts:

Wow. Okay, that was a weird twist of a way to get there. But I’ve honestly got to say that I like it. It works. (I’d always hoped Jack would still be the key to Chuck’s downfall.)

I still feel sorry for Amara though. Like, is she just nothingness? Is she an alternate personality deep inside Chuck now?

And what about Jack? Can he put things back to how they’re supposed to be? Bring everyone back? Did he get Chuck’s knowledge as well as his power? At least of who all he took away?

Guess we’ll have to see.

Also, usually I’m not a fan of the trope of the “Good guys” sparing the villain who’s killed tons of people because “they’re above killing”. But in this case? It really was fitting. And a worse punishment than killing Chuck would have been.

- OH GOD I LOVE THIS SONG!!!!

- Sammy’s cafe!

- (Okay I’m getting a little misty)

- His smile!!!

- OKay, I might cry now.

- They raised God.

- Awwww….. (The names)

- Okay, so, I’m not okay! (But I’m okay with it, so… good thing?)

- So it ends with them doing whatever it is they want?

- I wonder if the Apocalypse World people were brought back? And their other friends. (And Eileen? I’m sorry, I know not everyone ships it, but I do, and now Sam doesn’t have the great Plot of the Universe conspiring against him.)

After-Show Thoughts: (After I’ve had a few hours to ponder things)

Let me just say, the music in this episode? Like, just even the background music? It was amazing! It did such a good job of invoking the emotions that were being felt by the guys. And their choices of songs used were also good. :)

Michael: So, in some ways his character shift in this episode seems odd after the last time we saw him. But then I thought more about it, and I think Adam’s death had a lot to do with it. In the previous episode in which we saw them, of the two of them Adam actually seemed to be more stable, and often had good, grounding advice for Michael. Now with him gone, all Michael had was himself. And at heart, he still wanted his father’s love, despite everything that had happened. And I still think he’s an interesting Parallel/Contrast to Dean, who also had the same father-worship for a long time, but over time he’s come to understand that John was wrong about a lot of things, and he needs to make his own way. I don’t think that’s something that Michael ever REALLY learned. Not deep down.

Lucifer: I found his presence here to be annoying. I get that he moved the plot along. And I get how much at least half of Buckleming love him. I am glad that his part was brief and that he didn’t get a redemption arc. I do wish Sam had been able to kill him. (I know, he couldn’t have because only another archangel with an archangel blade yadda-yadda. STILL though…) Or that there had maybe been SOME meaningful interaction between him and Sam for old time’s sake, since that always gets nice and spicy. (Because Jared and Mark P. always keep in mind everything that’s happened between them and put that into their performances.) But time limits and all that. Also, why were there no wing-shadows on the floor when Lucifer died? There were wing shadows on the floor of the friggen church at the end of S13 and he died like 15 feet up in the air. *LOL* I mean, then whenever Sam looked at the floor in the Library he could remember that Lucifer is Dead for Good.

And I just rewatched the scene again and when he died, he just went poof. Like, in the past, unless a finger-snap thing is involved that’s not what happens when angels die. If they get stabbed, there’s usually been a body left behind. Heck, at the end of S13 there was a full-on light-show. Now it almost looked like a regular angel death just with redder light instead of silvery-blue. Was that because it was just a thrown-together mock-up of Lucifer that Chuck made? (Like with Lilith? Because he’s NOT supposed to have any sway in the Empty! Dammit, how hard is it for the writers to remember the stuff that was already established?!)

(Sorry. Continuity issues bug me. And they’ve bugged me from Season 1 on, so I know that’s not a new thing. But it does feel like they’ve gotten especially worse this season.)

(Also, I’m starting to get tired so I’m going to try to wrap this up here. *LOL*)

I did like how they brought Chuck down. When it comes down to it, they weren’t following a pre-set plan. (Well, what happened probably WAS written in that book, but they didn’t know what it was.) Instead they found their own way with what they had. They figured out what was going on with Jack, and Sam figured out some bullshit spell to make some cool light-effects in order to fool Michael and Chuck into thinking they were setting it up for him. The only aspect of it that fell a little flat for me was the extended exposition on how they’d done it. It’s a trope that crops up a lot. The whole “Haha see what I did there!” But, on the other hand, I also realize that unless they’d shown us each step of the process as it was happening, there was no real way around presenting it that way. And it WAS more dramatic to have the audience in the dark until that moment. Also, I can’t deny the effectiveness of the scene where Chuck keeps beating them down but they keep standing up again. I mean, isn’t that an allegory for their whole lives? And at the end he’s incredulous as to why or even HOW they can still stand. What makes them keep going? True, part of it was that they knew the plan, and they knew this was part of it. (Which I think is why Sam opened it up with punching Chuck. To turn the confrontation more physical and draw it out, or he might have decided after all to just finger-snap them.) But part if it is also them just being them. They’ve both been down this road before. Like their whole lives have been this road. And they’ve both been to hell. Both suffered unimaginable tortures. And they just keep going. When one stumbles the other gets up. Or they get each other up. And they laugh in God’s face. Just… THAT was well-done. And Chuck's ending with them NOT killing him? That was absolutely poetic. Because now he's busted down to "normal" and has to figure out actual life (or just end his, but he'd have to do it himself) and he didn't even get an "ending" of his creations killing him. Because even if he did make them, he clearly still doesn't understand them. And I liked them saying "no" to the revenge game. (After making sure that he couldn't come back again as a problem. Cause they ain't dumb either. Despite what everyone keeps saying about them.)

I also loved the scene where Jack brings everyone back. I would have liked to have seen some shots of some of the individual ones that we’d come to know being back, like Donna, some of those AU people (Eileen!) but I also get this ep was shot during Covid so they probably couldn’t get as many people back. (I hope some of them at least get name-dropped in the next episode so we know for sure that they’re back and alive.) But anyway, I thought the scene was well done, that song was a GOOD choice for it! (But then, I am a bit biased. It’s among some of the music I grew up listening to because my parents had it.) It may not be classic rock, but classic folk is fitting for the new God. :)

Overall, I thought there were some pacing issues with this episode, but in general I was happier with it than the previous one. I’ve just been re-watching it (because I never catch everything the first time through, especially when I’m trying to take notes) and I just noticed something. Near the end when Sam and Dean are in the Library and Dean says “To everyone that we lost along the way.” I first was a bit puzzled about that, because my mind went to the more immediate people that they’d lost recently, and whom I’m assuming Jack brought back too. But on re-watching I thought about it in a grander scale. How many people have they lost in their lives due to Chuck’s story? Because Chuck thought it would make things more dramatic? I think he was reflecting on their whole lives, not just the last 48 or so hours. And that makes sense too with what Sam said following, about them finally being able to write their own story. (And yes, I know that Cas was not one of those brought back. At least, he doesn’t seem to have been. And though I don’t ship him and Dean, I don’t doubt for a minute that Dean cares/cared about him very much. It’s okay to love your friends. But I didn’t get the feeling that he was JUST talking about one person. That held the weight of years of losses.)

I thought the ending montage was brilliant! Honestly, if the show ended here, I would have been okay. Not saying I DON’T want another episode! I’ll take whatever I can get. And I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing where they take their story. So yeah, looking forward to the next (and final *cries*) episode.

Anyway, that’s about all I can really dredge up this late at night. *LOL* This will be the LAST time I do one of these knowing there’s more to come. It’s the last week we’ll all wait in suspense for what’s going to happen next. After next week's episode we'll be into new territory of "That's all there is and ever will be." This has been quite a journey, and I haven’t liked all of it, but overall I still love this weird little show, and even more so the characters that we've met through it. So, to quote Bobby, “Here’s to runnin’ into you guys on the other side.”

#dontspoilthefinalhunt #spn 15x19 spoilers #spn season 15 spoilers #episode review #my thoughts #sam winchester #dean winchester #jack kline #michael spn #lucifer spn #chuck/god

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sinsofsummers · 5 years ago

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Quarantine Kisses

Request: n/a

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 2.56k

Summary: You’d only gone to New York for a job interview. Who knew a weekend would turn into a quarantine with an old friend?

Warnings: none, just fluff!

Note: keep in mind, this is completely unedited. i just felt like posting a full-length fic for once. i have no idea if it’s good or not.

in other news, i hope everyone is doing well considering these dire circumstances. i sincerely hope this fic will take away some of your anxiety/stress, at least for a few moments out of your day. we’re all going through this together, friends. we may be physically isolated, but that doesn’t mean our minds are in different places. we are still one.

(gif not mine, from erikisright)

Self-isolation, you had decided, was not your thing.

The endless hours of staring into space, or at a blank wall, or at the precise spot on the ceiling where the paint had chipped away, were taking a toll. You weren’t sure how much longer you were going to be able to stand this. Even if it was with Sebastian.

In truth, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to have spent more than a few days with him. A week, at most. Your trip to New York had started as simply a job offer, traveling from out of state to pursue an opening for a publishing company you were eager to work for. To be quite honest, that was all you’d had planned for yourself. In the beginning.

Somewhere along the planning process, Sebastian had reached out. He was an old friend, someone you’d met through distant connections elsewhere. When you’d first met, you had to admit, he was charming and sweet and the easiest person to talk to in a room full of people. But you two had never become close friends to the point of really talking all the time. Time had passed since the last time you’d seen him, and after a while, it started to feel like your friendship was a thing of the past.

On that unexpected day, however, it seemed you were proven wrong. Sebastian rarely texted you to begin with, but your phone had buzzed, and when you looked at the screen, it was a message from him. It was a simple greeting, asking how you were and mentioning that he wanted to catch up, but it made you smile nonetheless. You’d forgotten about him, as your life had begun to move swiftly, almost tripping you up a couple of times and leaving you face-down on the pavement.

After texting back and forth, hesitantly growing more comfortable with each other and returning back to that place of near-friendship from years in the past, you broke the news that you would be in New York.

“Oh, really?” He’d replied quickly, his voice lilting in surprise. “That’s great, how long will you be here for?”

You had pondered the question. “I mean, probably just the weekend, but I’m pretty flexible. I don’t exactly have a job that’s tying me down,” you chuckled lightly.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Well, you know, if you end up having any extra time—I don’t know what your schedule is gonna look like—if you want, you know, we could, uh, go for drinks or dinner or I could show you around the city...if you want?”

You can still vividly remember how hard you had to bite your bottom lip to keep a teasing giggle from falling from your lips. He was just as you remembered: fumbling over his words in the most endearing way possible. You couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah, I should have some free time, why not?”

And that was that. You’d gone to New York, you’d gone to the interview, and then you had a few days to yourself. A few days that, you hoped, would be well spent. Thanks to Sebastian’s easy smile and kind words, they were very well spent.

On the last day of your trip, however, was when the quarantine was announced. You’d been safe, keeping your distance from others, wearing masks wherever you went, but it wasn’t enough. You were staring down a dark tunnel of isolation, not knowing when it would end.

“I should get back home,” you’d announced that morning upon hearing the news. “It’s better for me to be back there before anything else happens.”

Sebastian had other ideas, though. “I don’t know, is that really a good idea? Flying right now? They’re canceling flights left and right, do you even think you’d be able to get one?” He was leaning up against the countertop in his kitchen, the two of you hanging out and having a cup of coffee.

You’d shrugged. “I mean, I guess. I didn’t really plan for this, though. I mean...financially,” you mumbled, your thoughts falling from your lips rather than staying in your head like you’d meant for them to. Shit, your subconscious cursed. Why’d you say that?

It was practically inevitable, the softening of Sebastian’s features as he looked at you with his arms crossed, the epitome of sympathy. “Hey, I mean...you can stay with me. You won’t have to pay a dime. Well, unless you ask me to do your laundry,” he added with a shy grin.

You furrowed your brows. “Isn’t that against the point of this quarantine? We hardly know each other anymore, aren’t we supposed to isolate with people that we live with?” His offer was tempting, you could admit, but it was wildly unreasonable.

Sebastian simply shrugged. “Why not? It’s not the ideal situation, sure. But how else are you going to get home? You don’t have a car with you.” Holding up his hands upon seeing your uncertain expression, he continued, “You don’t have to, I’m not forcing you to stay. I just wanted to offer an alternate option, that’s all.”

“No, that’s nice,” you nodded, looking down at your dark coffee, “really. What other choice do I have, you know? Like, are they gonna close down the state borders? How long is this gonna be? Weeks? Months?” It was unprecedented, historic, and you were stuck in New York, rather than your own home.

You’d always thought that when the apocalypse happened, you would be sitting on the couch in your living room, sucking on Jolly Ranchers. Instead, you were thousands of miles from home in the kitchen of a man that was hardly a close friend. It was almost poetic how fucked up everything had become so quickly.

Sebastian had merely shaken his head, sucking in a deep breath and squinting his eyes as he formulated a thought. You couldn’t help but notice the way his nose scrunched in concentration. “Well,” he said, obviously trying to offer some sense of reassurance, “you know, it could be just a couple of weeks before it’s over. Who knows?”

But even as he’d said it, the both of you knew it wasn’t true. You’d looked up at him, sitting down in a chair while he stood across from you, the same expression of doubt on your faces. You had your living situation figured out, but for how long would it have to last?

Who knows?

— — —

“Sebastian!”

The water stopped running in the kitchen. “Yeah?”

“Am I allowed to change the channel?” You asked, eyeing the ceiling as you awaited his answer. You knew the answer would be yes, of course, but you’d found over the last month that it gave you great joy to watch him squirm a little bit.

Sure enough, his head popped around the corner, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah, absolutely,” he nodded, “I don’t care. Watch whatever you want, I’m just finishing up in here.”

Grinning, you grabbed the remote triumphantly and began searching for something else to watch. “Don’t be too long, Seb,” you teased smoothly with a slight smirk, “I’m getting lonely in here.”

He’d already gone back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up dinner, but you could practically see the blush that was no doubt emerging on his cheeks. “Yeah?” He called, a smile evident in his voice. “I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Never,” you answered as he came back into the living room, “not a chance.” You had to admit, it was easy to become distracted by his easygoing personality and charming smile. In fact, it was at that very moment that you couldn’t stop looking at the way his sweatshirt hung on his shoulders, his sweatpants hanging on his hips perfectly. As per usual, he was wearing that blue baseball cap that hid his brown locks from your view. And he was absolutely divine.

He sat down beside you, just close enough that his knee brushed your socks, as you were sitting curled up on the couch. “What are we watching now?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. As the loud theme music boomed from the speakers, you failed to hold back a boisterous laugh at his jerky, shocked expression. “That 70s Show?” He asked, a growing smile on his face. “God, I love this show!” He looked at you with such a wide smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and created the deepest dimples in his cheeks that you had to look away.

With the comedy show playing, your socked feet gently pressed against Sebastian’s leg, and the easy silence between two strangers-grown-friends, you changed your mind.

Perhaps self-isolation was your thing.

It was dark rings left by coffee mugs long forgotten by time, it was scratchy blankets curling under your feet to hold in the most warmth. It was old movies playing on repeat as background noise to distract you from the earsplitting silence in your mind. It was subtle glances and fleeting touches, a fingertip here, an elbow there. It was savoring the trips down to the end of the driveway to roll out the garbage cans, it was relishing in the feeling of fresh air, untainted by Bath and Body Works candles.

But most of all, it was catching him watching you while he thought you didn’t know. It took everything in you to maintain a straight face, but all you wanted to do was stare right back into those bright blue eyes that were in your mind all the time, even when you closed your eyes. Oh, how you wanted to look deep into those eyes and listen to every sentence he had to say, his calming voice reverberating off of the walls of your head. You could listen to that man speak all the time, and you would if it were possible.

All thoughts of going back home after the quarantine was lifted had dissipated. All that shamelessly filled your head nowadays was the thought of letting your hand linger against his for once, instead of pulling it away so quickly. His hands were so soft, his skin smooth in a way that made you want to curl up under a hundred blankets and sleep, knowing he existed.

Of course, it had only been around a month and a half. You’d spent so much time together, you’d talked into the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning, yes, but that was only due to circumstance. In the real world, a month of contact only amounted to a week. This attraction you felt, it was all very fast, coming over you in a wave so overwhelming that you hardly knew when it had. You weren’t quite sure what it was like to not feel his eyes on you, to feel the urge to look right back at him and ask, please kiss me, goddammit.

It was now the middle of April, and the two of you were (yet again) on the couch, winding down from a busy day of doing nothing by watching That 70s Show. You’d become distracted a long time ago, trying your best to keep your eyes on the screen but being unable to stop looking at Sebastian.

Sebastian and his damn baseball cap.

He noticed you staring. You knew he did because his lips curled up at the corners, just slightly. Instead of looking away like you were used to, he turned his head and planted his blue eyes on yours. “Do I have something on my face?”

Blushing furiously, you shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “I’m just looking.”

“Mind if I look back?” He asked smoothly, adjusting himself on the couch so he was facing you fully.

Unable to find words, you fell silent and simply shook your head. Your hands were in your lap, thumbs fiddling in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves as you realized, we’re really close. It was true; your knees were touching as you both sat cross-legged on the cushions.

The two of you went on like this for a few minutes, the noise of six teenagers falling on deaf ears. You were engrossed in each other, every sense of discomfort or awkwardness gone in a matter of seconds. This was the result of weeks spent with each other. An unexpected experience that, looking back on it, you wouldn’t dare change.

“Hey,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “Are you ever gonna show me that head of hair you’ve got?”

He smiled gently, a breathy chuckle escaping his pink lips. “That depends.” He’d leaned closer, you could tell. You could see every speck and sparkle in his eyes now.

“On what?” You breathed, hardly able to keep still.

Sebastian’s grin was contagious as he shrugged and replied swiftly, “If you’ve got the guts to go for it.”

Your chest collapsed at the teasing smirk that he displayed, leaning so close to you that you could brush your lips against his. And oh, how you wanted to. You carefully lifted your hands from your lap so as not to disturb this aura of tranquility that surrounded the two of you. One hand reached up to the brim of his hat while the other hovered over his knee. Slowly, you lifted the hat away from his head, savoring the way his eyes fluttered shut at your touch.

His hair, though matted and lacking any sort of volume, was fluffy and soft, curling around your fingertips. You ran your hands through the brown locks, addicted to the shaking breaths that fell from Sebastian’s lips, his pink, plump lips that were so ravishing.

At this point, you were so close that it was almost a disservice that you didn’t kiss him. Still, you whispered, “Can I kiss you?” It was the quick, childish nod that had you weak in the knees.

With your hands in his hair, at the back of his head, you tugged him into you and pressed your lips cautiously against his, your own eyes closing. Immediately, it was like you breathed a sigh of relief. His lips were so warm, so soft, and so perfect that you could have cried.

He kissed you back with the same gentle innocence of a teenager and their first kiss, endearingly clumsy. His lips slid against yours easily, his hands curling fists into your shirt and pulling you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips. You almost let go of his hair and spread your hands to his shoulders, his strong back, but when you delivered an unintentional tug at his roots, the deep breathy groan that he released into your mouth had you melting.

Sebastian had his hands all over you, sliding up and down your sides, curling around to hug you closer to him, moving up your back to tug on your shoulders, resting on your hips with gentle squeezes here and there. You couldn’t believe you had waited a whole month and a half to do this.

Again, maybe quarantining wasn’t the worst thing you could imagine.

He finally pulled away, his eyes closed but his forehead resting against yours. “You getting sick of me yet, sweets?”

You smiled at the nickname. “Never,” you whispered, lifting your head to press your lips to his forehead. “Not a chance.”

#sebastian stan x reader #seb stan fics #sebastian stan fluff #quarantine fics #quarantine writing #sebastian stan

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chelsfic · 4 years ago

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Vampire Seeking Familiar - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic (One-shot)

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Nandor places an ad for a human familiar and Guillermo responds. My take on how they first meet!

A/N: I woke up with the urgent need to write this. I was inspired watching Harvey’s AMA where he mentions that maybe Nandor placed an ad on Craigslist for a familiar. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff, Crack, Smooching, Light mention of sex (not explicit)

---

"Greetings, peasant. I require your assistance with the electronic computing device."

Nandor hulked over the reference desk, looking like an anachronism standing amidst the dull, institutional decor of the public library. He wore a floor length cape trimmed in gold embroidery over a brocade tunic and deerskin pants. He attempted an awkward smile, putting his fangs on full display.

He wasn't the strangest thing the librarian had seen that day.

“Sure,” she replied with a guarded smile. “What are you trying to do?”

"I am attempting to post an advertisement on a list kept by a man named..." he glanced down at a scrap of paper in his hand, "...Craig."

Ninety painstaking minutes later the librarian breathed a sigh of relief as the strange man finally clicked “publish.”

��Now, you just keep an eye on your email,” she kindly explained, “and wait for someone to respond.”

Nandor’s eyes lit up with a kind of hungry delight as he switched tabs to his empty Hotmail inbox.

“Your assistance has been most appreciated,” he thanked her, reaching into his tunic and flicking a heavy, gold coin in her direction.

She flinched as the coin flew at her head, awkwardly catching it and placing it beside the keyboard.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Relentless. But I can’t accept a tip. Have a nice night.”

She stood up and walked back to her desk with a look of repressed hilarity on her face. She doubted anyone would reply to this guy’s post. But then, she reminded herself, she’d certainly seen stranger things happen…

Nandor clicked refresh and frowned when his email remained stubbornly empty.

---

Vampire’s Familiar (Staten Island)

Attention Mortals!

Do you weary of your pathetic human lives? Do you wish to find purpose in serving your evolutionary superior? Can you lift at least 50 lbs without assistance?

I, Nandor the Relentless, Conqueror of Thousands and Immortal Vampire, seek a human familiar to do my dark bidding. Duties include, but are not limited to, daytime errands, cleaning of a large mansion, laundry, personal valet services, securing the house against sunlight, blowing out candles, and waste disposal. The successful contender will be provided room and board for a fair rate ($1200/month) and the promise of eternal life after their term of service (length TBD).

If you possess the courage, kindly respond by electronic letter.

---

It had to be fake, right?

Guillermo sat in the break room at Panera Bread, idly scrolling through job ads on Craig’s List when the heading “Vampire’s Familiar” caught his eye. For a second he felt his stomach swoop with excitement before he got a hold of himself. It was probably just another jerk looking for attention. Guillermo knew in his heart that vampires were real, despite never having met one in real life. And it was his dearest, secret dream to become one of them. But so far, his internet sleuthing had uncovered nothing but a whole lot of pathetic internet trolls.

But what if this was the one?

He clicked the link, biting his nails as the text of the job posting loaded on the screen. He read through it, a smile tugging on his lips. He really shouldn’t get his hopes up, but his eyes kept darting back to that name. Nandor the Relentless. Conqueror of Thousands. What a cool vampire name.

He opened his Gmail app and started a new message.

---

Dear Nandor the Relentless,

My name is Guillermo de la Cruz and I am writing to you in response to your Craigslist posting seeking a human familiar. I have long been an enthusiastic admirer of vampires and it would be a dream come true to meet one and work for them.

I’m a responsible, hard worker who’s eager to learn new things. While I have never worked as a familiar before, I do have a background in customer service and a Bachelor’s Degree in History from Stony Brook University. I have attached a copy of my resume.

Looking forward to hearing from you,

Guillermo de la Cruz

---

Guillermo suggested they meet at a Panera Bread on Staten Island because it was familiar and, more importantly, public. He was less worried about meeting an immortal, murderous creature of the night than he was about the possibility that the guy could turn out to be a regular human serial killer.

He picked a comfy armchair by the window and sipped his tea while he watched the door, feeling a thrill every time it opened. He was early. If this guy turned out to be the real deal, then he desperately wanted to make a good first impression. When a tall, darkly handsome man with long hair and a cape walked through the door Guillermo gulped and raised his hand in a shy wave.

“Nandor?” he asked, just to be sure.

The man turned to him and there was no mistake. Guillermo’s breath caught in his throat. His skin was pale, almost glowing in the restaurant’s warm lighting. His eyes were dark brown and penetrating. Guillermo felt struck when the vampire’s gaze fell on him, as if he could see straight through him and into the most secret parts of his soul. He stepped closer, looming over Guillermo and looking somehow both self-important and unsure.

“And you are…” Nandor glanced upward, searching for the name. “Guy...Gil...Gilbert?”

“Guillermo,” he corrected with a shy smile. He shifted on his feet and adjusted his glasses nervously. He knew vampires were sexy by nature, of course. But he hadn’t been expecting to feel an immediate attraction to his prospective employer. This guy had his own gravity and he was sucking Guillermo in.

“Guillermo, of course.”

Hearing his name in the vampire’s rich, accented voice sent a tingle down his spine.

“Shall we, uh, sit down?” Guillermo stammered and then smacked a hand to his head, gesturing to the display case of pastries, “Unless you want something…?”

Nandor hissed dramatically and Guillermo got his first good look at his fangs. Honestly, he felt faint. This guy was either an excellent cosplayer or he was for real.

“Vampires cannot consume human food,” Nandor announced with a grimace of disgust. “Lesson number one.”

Nandor sat with a sweep of his cape and Guillermo followed suit.

“Oh! Of course! I have a lot to learn… Mr. Nandor--Mr. Relentless, sir,” Guillermo stammered, finally picking up his tea and taking a big gulp just to shut himself up.

“Master will do just fine,” the vampire replied as he adjusted the fall of his impressive cape around him. “That’s how you’ll refer to me if you get the job.”

“Oh! That’s--um,” Guillermo tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he pondered the right word, “very...antiquated?”

“Well, hello! I’m a vampire! Kind of comes with the territory,” Nandor scoffed dismissively. “If you’re not interested--”

“No! No, I’m...I’m definitely interested,” Guillermo insisted, blushing furiously at his own words. He was interested...in more ways than one, apparently. He couldn’t stop glancing down at the vampire’s mouth, his full lips and the delicious hint of sharp fangs. God, what would it be like? To be bitten…

Nandor watched as the human’s full cheeks darkened with a blush. He parted his lips and inhaled longingly, scenting the sweet, spicy aroma of the man’s blood and barely suppressing a growl.

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat and abruptly asking, “So, you want to tell me a bit about why you are wanting to become my familiar?”

The interview--oh my god, I’m having an actual interview with an actual vampire!--flew by somehow. At first, Guillermo was all nervous stammers and sweaty palms, but after a few minutes he couldn’t help the natural urge to gush and he found himself barraging the vampire with fascinated questions. Not just about the job, but about himself. How old was he? Could he fly? Turn into a bat? Use mind control? What about sunlight, was that really a thing? Garlic?

Rather than becoming annoyed, Nandor seemed to preen under the human’s obvious admiration. He held his head high and his word choice became increasingly grandiose as he waxed poetic about his existence as a creature of the night.

As the meeting finally wound down, Nandor turned his deep, liquid eyes on Guillermo, capturing him in his gaze as he spoke.

“Now, Guillermo, you must tell me one thing. If I choose you for this job, are you willing to give up all this,” he gestured around at the interior of the Panera Bread. A cashier wiped down the glass display case and an infant wailed somewhere in the back of the dining area. “And come and live with me, putting yourself under my control and becoming subject to my dark power?”

Guillermo gulped down his nerves, feeling the momentousness of the occasion as he whispered, for the first time, “Yes, master…”

“Wonderful!” Nandor cried with a clap of his hands. “I will reach out to you through the ether after the checking of your background.”

The vampire stood, moving away from the table before Guillermo could formulate a response.

“The...ether?” he finally asked, his brows knitting together in confusion. “How will that work?”

Nandor waved away Guillermo’s confusion with a flick of his wrist and answered, “Very simple. My voice will come to you in the evening before you are a falling into the slumber.”

Guillermo was silent for a beat, wondering how this answer was meant to clear up his confusion.

“Right,” he finally murmured. “Of course…”

Nandor turned to stalk out the door and Guillermo jogged after him, “Wait! There’s just...just one more thing, before you go.”

Nandor turned back with an annoyed expression, “Yes, what is it? I’m getting pretty hungry over here!”

Guillermo choked down an enthusiastic squeak at this admission and attempted to school his features into neutral calm as he asked, “How do I know you’re legit? Can you...show me proof?”

Nandor’s eyes darkened and he seemed to grow even taller as he turned his full focus on the human man, “You require proof? You require proof from Nandor the Relentless, who has twice turned the waters of the Euphrates red with his enemy’s blood. Proof, you say?!”

“Yeah,” Guillermo shrugged, holding onto what he hoped was an aloof calm as he quaked internally.

Nandor sighed and rolled his eyes as he answered, “Fine! Come with me. Fu-cking guy…”

He led Guillermo to the alleyway behind the Panera. During the day you might find a delivery truck back here or an employee taking out the garbage, but it was deserted at this hour of the night. Nandor stomped ahead of Guillermo, clearly aggravated at this request. He stopped and turned to face the human with a dramatic flare of his cape.

“Prepare your puny mortal brain,” he warned and then, without ceremony, he transformed into a bat.

Guillermo gasped, his face splitting into a wide grin as the tiny, squeaking thing flew circles around his head, landing in the lush curls of his hair for an instant before taking flight once more and erupting back into his vampiric form.

Guillermo rushed up to Nandor’s side, positively gushing, “It’s true! You’re real! A real vampire! Oh my god, I--”

Nandor suddenly broke out into an aggrieved hiss, grimacing and turning his face away.

“Watch it with that shit!” he complained loudly. “You can’t say...the g-word around vampires! You understand?”

Guillermo tilted his head in confusion for a second before realization lit his eyes.

“Oh! The g-word, of course! I’m...I’m sorry, master. I promise I’ll learn quickly,” he babbled. Now that he knew for certain that Nandor was a vampire, he was desperate to land this job. It was everything he’d dreamed of since he was a little kid first watching Antonio Banderas as Armand.

“Yeah, well--you’d better!” Nandor griped, but his face smoothed into a self-satisfied smirk at Guillermo’s obvious hero worship. A thought occured to him as he watched Guillermo’s adoring gaze. “There’s one more thing--I’ve just remembered. You can never fall in love with me, human. I know a lot of vampires who get into the whole sex thing with their familiars and it always ends up...messy. Understand? That’s a condition of your employment.”

Guillermo felt his face once again heating up with mortification. Had he been so transparent?

“Of course, master. I understand,” he murmured.

Nandor nodded, looking satisfied with Guillermo’s answer.

“Alright, then. Remember, you will hear my voice through the ether! Night, night!”

And then Nandor braced his knees and leaped into the air, soaring over Guillermo’s head and into the night sky.

“Wow!” Guillermo sighed, watching the tiny pinprick that was his vampire disappear into the darkness. “He’s so fucking cool…”

---

Some years later…

Guillermo sat in the fancy room with his legs tucked up underneath him, typing away on his laptop as Nandor fed another piece of wood to the fire. He paused long enough to enjoy the view of his boyfriend’s ample (yet firm!) backside as he bent over the fireplace.

“Guillermo,” Nandor started, dragging out the last syllable adorably. “What are you working on over there?”

“Why don’t you come here and see?” Guillermo replied with a shy smile. He patted the cushion next to him. He was still bashful about flirting with his master. Their relationship had finally--finally!--advanced after years of longing and pining. But even after a week of learning everything Nandor had to teach him about the joys of vampiric sex, he still felt unaccountably shy about their new relationship status.

Nandor settled down beside him, pressing their sides together and peering down at the thin computing contraption with a look of trepidation.

“You need to be careful with these things, Guillermo!” Nandor admonished, wrapping an arm around his familiar and pressing his face into the warm crook of his neck. He breathed in his delightful scent before continuing, “There are witches on the internet who can curse you through the electronic post!”

“Don’t worry, mas--Nandor. I’m being very careful,” Guillermo assured him.

The night they first made love, Guillermo had been overwhelmed, beside himself with a heady mix of physical sensations and emotions. He’d cried out at Nandor’s touch, using the title that he’d been trained to use for almost a decade. Nandor had felt his stomach drop and ice flow through his veins at the sound. “No...no, my Guillermo. Call me Nandor. Please. Call me by my name…”

“What do we have here…?” Nandor pondered, squinting his eyes as he read the text on the screen. “Guillermo! What is this all about!?”

“You said it yourself, Nandor,” he replied with a sly smirk. “Not falling in love with you was a condition of my employment…”

The words hung in the air between them for a moment and Guillermo felt as though he’d just opened up his chest and revealed his beating heart to the vampire’s hungry gaze.

Nandor’s dark eyes softened and sparkled in the firelight as he murmured, “Oh, my Guillermo… I--I love you too.”

Nandor took the laptop and set it on the coffee table before taking Guillermo into his arms and laying kiss after kiss across his sweet face.

“Are you ready?” Nandor’s voice was hushed. Guillermo looked up at him and was awestruck all over again at his luck. That such a man could love little ole Memo.

“Yeah, just--hang on a sec,” he said, leaning over Nandor’s lap to reach the computer and hitting “enter.” He fell back into Nandor’s arms, looking up at him with perfect trust and saying, for the last time, “Yes, Master. I’m ready.”

---

Vampire Couple seeking Human Familiar (Staten Island)

Do you long to explore the hidden world of magical creatures all around you? Do you have a strong stomach? A career as a vampire’s familiar might be for you!

Nandor the Relentless and Guillermo the Great seek a human assistant to do their dark bidding...

#nandermo #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits fanfic #what we do in the shadows fanfic #wwdits

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wangxiangiftexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Winter Solstice Gift for dual-mayhem

For @dual-mayhem, I hope I did you justice with the fluff since I'm not an expert on it!

Read On AO3

*****

Learning to Love like You

It was in the middle of a toast that Wei Wuxian connected the dots. Really, it should have been made clear the moment the juniors, Ouyang Zizhen, and Jin Ling rushed him towards his favorite wine house to celebrate something. He was sure they might have slipped on the purpose of the celebration but he was still reeling in the fact that the juniors decided to make time for him. Can one blame him?

Or maybe he should have concluded it last night when Lan Wangji's butterfly talisman arrived at the Jingshi. His husband very rarely arrived home late due to unforeseen circumstances. So when Wei Wuxian read the note, "Late due to conflicting opinions. I will arrive as soon as possible. I am sorry," he should have caught on. Nowadays, there are no "sorrys" between them. So he should have been suspicious when Lan Wangji apologized. But he was so caught up on the small gift his husband sent along with the talisman that he forgot to ponder on it further.

No, it hit as he was looking at the ceiling of his favorite wine house in Caiyi. The juniors surrounding him kept shouting their congratulations and drinking away, so most of them didn’t notice his tense form.

Lan Sizhui, however, did.

"Senior Wei?" he asked, tapping him on the shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Lan Sizhui’s cheeks were flushed and he swayed a bit. The two cups of wine he had drank were starting to show but he held his liquor incredibly better than his father. That particular skill, thought Wei Wuxian, his son had gotten from him.

Wei Wuxian drank his wine and placed his cup on the table.

"Sizhui," he started and paused. How does he word it? He was quick-witted when it came to unexpected situations, poetic in other moments, but being blunt has always been his downfall.

"Are we celebrating my birthday?"

Too blunt.

The room became dead quiet. Wei Wuxian was tempted to look around the room just to gauge everyone's reaction, and maybe snicker a little, but he focused on his son instead.

Lan Sizhui, for his part, did not spit out his drink like Lan Jingyi, or whisper-yell curse words like Jin Ling, or not even quietly mutter a sad, "Oh, Senior Wei…" like Ouyang Zizhen.

No, his son furrowed his brows and cocked his head--so much like Lan Wangji that Wei Wuxian nearly laughed.

"Of course we are," Lan Sizhui answered. He looked around the room. "Was it not obvious?"

Yes, it was, now that Wei Wuxian thought about it. But, to be fair, it has been almost a year since his return to the living, so this was his first time celebrating his birthday in years. The last time he properly celebrated it was when he turned 15. He quickly banished the thought when shijie's bright smile popped into his head.

No need to think about that now.

He began to laugh, then patted his son on the shoulder and finally turned to look at the juniors surrounding him.

"Surprise, I guess?" he added, going for a smile.

"It was never a surprise!" yelled Jin Ling, standing up from his stool rather clumsily. "Everyone kept mentioning your birthday here!"

To be fair, Wei Wuxian was once again stuck on the fact that the juniors were taking him out and that, frankly, they enjoyed his company enough to book a room to celebrate something.

It just never occurred to him it was because of his birthday.

He laughed weakly and suddenly someone was hugging him tightly.

"Senior Wei!" wailed Ouyang Zizhen, arms tightening around him. "I'm sorry we weren't more obvious--"

"We were!" cut in Jin Ling.

"--but Happy Birthday, Senior Wei!" Ouyang Zizhen, this sweet young man, began to cry, shoulders shaking. It must be the alcohol because Wei Wuxian saw Lan Jingyi sniffle before tears were streaming down his face too.

"Senior Wei!!!" he cried before colliding with them as well.

To Wei Wuxian's horror, the rest of the juniors started to tear up or cry as well, including Jin Ling!

"So stupid!" whispered Jin Ling, wiping his eyes furiously. "Such a stupid Uncle I have."

"Hey!" called out Wei Wuxian, patting the two young men in his arms. "I'm a bit slow!"

"Baba…" whispered someone from his side and Wei Wuxian had to prepare himself before turning to look at Sizhui.

His son, his beautiful and caring son, had tears in his eyes and reached out to pat his head. He knew, Wei Wuxian thought, what the main reason was for his forgetfulness.

His birthday was merely unimportant.

Or so he thought.

~x~

After another few rounds of alcohol, when the juniors were no longer able to stand on their own, Wei Wuxian decided to call it quits. He was enjoying watching them stumble on their words or straight-up toppling down on the floor filled with giggles. They deserved it. But one glance out the window and the sun was slowly but surely going down. It was time to pack up and go back home.

“Alright!” exclaimed Wei Wuxian, feeling just a bit tipsy from all the alcohol he drank. “Time to leave!”

“Do you have all of your gifts?” asked Jingyi, swaying from his spot.

After the revelation of his obliviousness, the juniors practically threw their gifts at him with tears streaming down their faces. Some were wrapped, some were wrapped poorly, and some didn’t even bother to wrap them. Despite the varying appearances of the gifts, it warmed Wei Wuxian to the point that he felt his own tears in his own eyes. He managed to put all the gifts in his qiankun bag--which was handmade by Ouyang Zizhen--and now stood with a heart heavier than it was in the morning.

Looking over all the juniors, laughing and smiling, made him feel some kind of way. Of afternoon summer heats, lake water being splashed, laughter of disciples and Jiang Cheng, and of shijie smiling and calling them in to eat. The memory faded into the one before his eyes and he realized, to his horror, that he was crying.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, wiping his face.

He felt someone press against him and he was ready to consult a sobbing Ouyang Zizhen but it turned out to be none other than his son.

Sizhui pressed against him tightly and he laid his head on his shoulder.

“Happy Birthday, baba,” he whispered, eyes looking over his friends before directing that wide and loving gaze to him. “I love you.”

Wei Wuxian laughed with a sob. Sizhui, who would blush when reminded of his earlier, clingy days as a child, now clung to him like the same kid who was buried in the dirt by his Xian-gege.

Was it healthy to feel his chest this tight?

“I love you too,” he whispered before hugging him tightly. “Alright, alright!” he called out, his son still clinging to him. “Time to go! Come on, no don’t groan--no I’m not carrying you, Jingyi, stop giving me that pleading look! The ones who aren’t so intoxicated grab those who are just flat out drunk. Okay, let’s go!”

With that, Wei Wuxian led a stumbling, laughing, and very drunk group of juniors towards Cloud Recesses with Lan Sizhui still stuck to his side.

~x~

Wei Wuxian herded them all into the same room and breathed a sigh of relief, paying no heed to the consequences. The walk back home had burned off the rest of the alcohol in his system so he took out a jar of Emperor’s Smile and took a sip as he wandered the halls of his home. Even now, it was difficult to think of this place as home. Back then, home were piers with lapping water, shouts of vendors, and the smell of summer heat. Here, home became the twinkle of windchimes, light chatter, rushes of water, and the cool feeling of clouds against his skin. When did it change?

He turned the corner and nearly bumped into someone. Out of sheer reflex, he reeled back enough and hid his jar of alcohol behind his back.

“Oh,” he whispered when Lan Xichen gave him a small smile.

Lan Wangji’s older brother has been in seclusion ever since the events of Guanyin Temple . Wei Wuxian couldn’t blame him. The fire that used to burn in the older Lan has died and it hurt Wei Wuxian to see his husband be shut out from helping his brother, the only other person who helped raise him.

This was indeed a rare sight to see.

“Zewu-jun,” he recovered, giving a low bow and in doing so, showed his Emperor’s Smile.

“Master Wei,” responded Lan Xichen, returning the bow. “Please join me before sundown.”

Wei Wuxian glanced at the sky. It was getting dark.

“Where are we going?” asked Wei Wuxian, pausing before shrugging and taking a swig of the jar.

“To drink tea with Uncle and I,” supplied Lan Xichen, walking towards his room.

The alcohol got caught in his throat and he sputtered, “Lan Qiren?”

Lan Xichen gave another smile. “Uncle doesn’t feel so displeased by you as you may think, Master Wei.” He opened the door and Wei Wuxian followed suit. He quickly put his jar away before it could get confiscated.

Sitting at the low table was Lan Qiren, eyes closed and hands on his lap. When his eyes opened, Wei Wuxian was reminded why Lan Qiren earned the title Grand Master.

They bowed and took a seat, Lan Xichen sat beside his uncle andWei Wuxian sat across from them. It took a second before Wei Wuxian reached over to pour the tea. But Lan Xichen simply waved his hands away and poured for them. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but feel tense. Was this an interrogation?

“Wei Wuxian,” started Lan Qiren after several moments of silence.

The sudden call of his name made him sit up straighter. “Yes?”

Lan Qiren closed his eyes, breathed in and out, before resuming his indifferent stare. “I heard today is cause for celebration.”

It took a minute for the meaning to register in Wei Wuxian’s head.

“Oh!” He fiddled with his tea cup. “Yeah? I mean, yes! It’s, uh, it’s my...birthday?”

Lan Qiren exhaled sharply. “In the Cloud Recesses, one’s day of birth is cause for celebration.” He paused, letting it sink in, before continuing. “Every life is as important as the gods above, Wei Wuxian.” Lan Qiren took a sip of his tea and did not continue.

Wei Wuxian had to blink, hard, in order to understand what the old man was trying to say.

Lan Xichen picked up where his uncle had stopped. “We have delivered gifts to the Jingshi.” Lan Xichen raised his hand when Wei Wuxian went to protest. “I know that the Lans are not known for excessive spending but over the years, well,” Lan Xichen paused, and this time his smile was soft but it was directed at something past Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, “let’s say Wangji had a say or two about our views regarding gifts.”

Every now and again, the realisation hit Wei Wuxian just how much his husband had changed his clan over the years he was gone. He wondered just how much opposition his husband had faced and who stood by his side through it all. It hurt, knowing he wasn’t one of them, but seeing the results of his husband’s stubborn nature gave him a pleasant sense of pride.

After a few words were exchanged and one more round of tea, Wei Wuxian was excused. It was already dark and the lanterns filled the hallways with a syrupy orange yellow. There was much to think about as the day came to a close. It was his birthday and people were celebrating it. For the first time in years. To Wei Wuxian, it was just another day. But he’s seen the time and effort people have made in order to remind him how happy--or in the case of Old Man Lan, tolerant --they were that he was born today. Something warm pooled at the bottom of his belly and he knew it wasn’t the alcohol or tea he’d drank today. Just like he pondered earlier, while the Cloud Recesses was very different from his old home, the people living here, greeting him, asking for his advice, seeking out his tutelage, and even asking for some of his time to be with him--his son and Jingyi do this quite often--have made this place home.

Before he knew it, he was in front of the Jingshi. A place meant for him and his husband.. A safe space to unwind, to call his own.

He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of his husband.

Lan Wangji sat prim and proper, back straight, and was pouring Emperor’s Smile into one of the jade cups he bought from one of his travels. The low table was decorated with several plates including longevity cold noodles and spicy wontons, the red oil coating each one. After pouring his own tea, Lan Wangji stood up and walked towards him.

After today, after feeling emotionally wrecked by the juniors, reminded of his past--sweet summer times--and having a talk with his brother-in-law and uncle-in-law, seeing his husband giving him such a tender look caused the dam to break. So, in the comfort of these four walls, Wei Wuxian cried as his husband pulled him close. He tucked his head into his neck and tried to quiet the sobs, to reign in all of his feelings that were spilling out. But his husband swayed them back and forth and, for some odd reason, that made him sob out loud . He simply let go because he knew that out of everyone alive today, Lan Wangji will be there to catch him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed but at some point, Lan Wangji removed his outer robe and replaced it with a soft inner one. His qiankun bag was placed on the table and he was gently manhandled to sit beside him. He let him raise the cup of wine to his lips and he took a slow sip, savoring the wine and its cacophony of taste. He let him place the longevity noodle into his mouth and held the bowl under his chin as he slurped, and slurped, and slurped.

After a bit, Wei Wuxian blinked and he no longer felt weighed down by his own overwhelming emotions. Instead, he focused on Lan Wangji and his quiet devotion. The way he added foods to his bowl and lifted them to his lips, making sure he chewed before putting the bowl and chopsticks down before refilling his cup of wine. It went by like this for a while before Wei Wuxian shook his head when Lan Wangji lifted another piece of food to his mouth.

Lan Wangji said nothing and put the food back in the bowl.

“Thank you,” whispered Wei Wuxian, shifting closer and leaning against him.

“No thank yous,” responded Lan Wangji, fully melting into the soft touch. “It is Wei Ying’s birthday.”

“Yeah,” he sniffed, “I’ve been reminded of that,” he paused before adding, “constantly.”

“As it should be,” Lan Wangji rumbled out, pulling Wei Wuxian closer until he was fully seated on his lap. Wei Wuxian sighed and snuggled in closer.

“I actually forgot about my birthday,” he confessed. “I couldn’t remember the last time I even celebrated it. I didn’t realize it was such a bad thing until the juniors--oh, Lan Zhan, the juniors! You should have seen them! They were so drunk and they did it to celebrate my birthday but, really, between us, I think they just used that excuse to drink. Anyway! Ouyang Zizhen is such a cryer! It took a long time to get him off of me because he felt sad that I forgot. He felt sad for me, Lan Zhan! So many of those little ducklings did! And, did you know that your brother and your Uncle invited me for tea?” Lan Wangji hummed quietly, as if to say: no, he didn’t know. “They did! I got so scared! I thought I was going to get scolded for drinking my precious wine during the day. But they, in their roundabout way, told me happy birthday as well.”

He paused, not sure of this feeling gripping his heart, but then continued on.

“I’m so happy. I don’t know how I’m going to ever repay it.”

Here, his husband tipped his chin up and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“There’s no repayment when those close to you only want your happiness.”

Lan Wangji let him sit on that thought.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Wei Wuxian sniffed after a pause, then nodded. “Yup, definitely right.”

Lan Wangji hummed.

They sat there, letting the leftover food cool and the crickets continue their play, before Wei Wuxian shifted. He gave his husband a sly smile.

“And, pray tell, my husband,” he cooed, leaning in to kiss Lan Wangji’s neck, “what is your birthday present for me, hm?”

Lan Wangji let out a huff of laughter before presenting a wooden box. It was simple, really, the corners of it chipped and the wood looking worn out. But Wei Wuxian grabbed it with the delight of a child that had just been given their first candy.

“For me?” he squealed, sitting up straighter.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji responded. “But it is not from me.”

Wei Wuxian made a questioning sound, giving him a funny look. “From who?”

Lan Wangji didn’t answer and that roused Wei Wuxian’s curiosity even more. He opened the top and inside the box was a folded parchment, along with a bell. He picked up the parchment and unfolded it.

Wei Wuxian,

Hanguang-jun has been persistent these past couple of days about your...birthday. That’s the only reason I’m writing this to you. No other. Have this and don’t bother writing back.

Another folded paper fell into Wei Wuxian’s palm. With trembling hands, he unfolded that one and--

“This is--!”

In Jiang Cheng’s messy handwriting, it was a recipe for lotus and pork rib soup, specifically his shijie’s.

“Ha,” wheezed out Wei Wuxian, “Wha--how?” He blindly reached in for the bell and, in the soft lights of the Jingshi, the unmistakable designs of the Yunmeng Clan shone brightly.

“A clarity bell?”

“He refused to come,” whispered Lan Wangji, arms tight around Wei Wuxian. “But he gave me these moments before I left.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh that left him. “He...what?”

Lan Wangji said nothing else and Wei Wuxian suddenly realized that this was the reason that his husband had left.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan,” whispered out Wei Wuxian, “Why…”

Lan Wangji always seemed to surprise him in unexpected ways, but this might have topped them all.

“I love you,” Wei Wuxian said instead, leaning over to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

“Happy Birthday, Wei Ying,” whispered Lan Wangji, pressing their lips together softly. “I love you.”

And from that night onward, Wei Wuxian began to anticipate his birthday with glee.

#dual-mayhem #wangxiansolstice20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years ago

Text

Boketto

[bo-ke-tto] Jap. (v.) act of gazing into the distance without a thought

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 3.9k

Genre: Pure Fluff

Summary: It is the birthday of the love of your life. What do you have planned?

Warning: Nothing! Just a little suggestive ending!

A/N: Happy Birthday, Namjoon! I haven’t forgotten how much I love you! This piece is actually quite private, sitting in my drafts since 2016...I had to shave it down to not let it get away from me!

I love Feedback!

The day was perfect. You knew it was rare; either the sun would be too strong, too much wind or somehow too cool, but today, even the weather seemed to be in tune with your plans. Well, it could be that, or maybe your boyfriend was just that blessed.

You smiled at the soft rays of sunlight that streaked in when you carefully parted the curtains, just a little so as to not disturb the snoozing man still in bed.

Letting the gauzy material slip out of your fingers to return the room to its dusk, you padded to the bathroom first, stretching out sleep stiff muscles, making sure to stay quiet as you brushed your teeth and took a quick shower. You had enough time in hand but he needed his sleep, he deserved it after all the hard work he put in for so many long months, all culminating in exhausting years.

You slipped on a summer dress of soft cloth, letting it brush to your calves as you walked to the living room now, setting the coffee maker to work and checking the duffle bag you’d brought along.

While it had been a couple years that you and he had been dating, there were a few talks you’d always kept closely to yourself, mainly due to the fact that his work never really allowed the time or the headspace for him to actually ponder matters as such. Like the talk about moving in together, had never really been broached, yet you knew it gnawed on him just as it gnawed at you. There were others, like visits at work, taking vacations outside in the public together, all matters that you had personally forbidden to yourself, for the sake of his mental peace.

Like the matter of saying I love you…another topic that you knew bothered him deeply when he had the time to give it thought.

You didn’t look it, but you knew that when your relationship crossed the one year mark, these unsaid conversations were going to be strains – matters that would more likely hurt him or cause him disturbance rather than give him the sense of calm that you wanted to provide.

You saw it in his eyes, when you would get up from his couch to leave for your own home, the bite of his lower lip when he warred with himself to ask if you wouldn’t rather just stay, stay with him to avoid the hassle. You saw it in the furrow of his brow when he came over to find you in the kitchen and instead of greeting him with the emotion you both knew you felt, you would just smile and greet him with a perfunctory welcome. You saw it in the tense shoulders he would carry, when he showed you pictures of his solo adventures, knowing he desperately wanted you with him on one.

So, you had taken up initiative. A smile spread across your chapped lips as you made sure everything was in the duffel bag of supplies. Your boyfriend had been less that surprised when you’d shown up on his doorstep, greeting him with a light peck to his plump lips. His surprise was more towards the number of bags in your hand, a joke falling from those lips that you had already planned to move in before he cut himself off, moving to the kitchen quietly to bring you some water.

Well, he wouldn’t need to cut himself off for much longer…or so you hoped. It all depended on him today.

You felt rather than heard him shuffle around in his bed, getting to your feet and quickly peeking in to see him turn his head to your side of the king size. One arm freed itself from under the pillow, sweeping across the span of where your absence had cooled the sheets. You walked over when you saw him frowning to himself, his sleep lagged brain starting to pull itself towards consciousness.

You scooted into your side, letting his palm find yours, clasping them together as his face smoothed out, eyelids fluttering as you leaned in.

“Happy Birthday, Namjoon.” You whispered to him, plush lips curving upwards slowly as he kept his eyes closed.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” He asked, morning voice all low and grumbles.

“Yep, I wanted to give you all the sleep time you needed.”

“I missed you.” He muttered.

“I wasn’t even gone, I was right here when you woke up.” You reassured, lowering yourself to kiss away the pout already forming on his lips.

“Why are you all dressed? Get back into bed.” He sighed, finally turning around and cracking his eyes open.

“We have plans, baby.”

“We do?”

You hummed, running your fingertips gently across his hairline, his head automatically nuzzling in the comforting touch before you slid off the bed again, much to his displeasure.

“Ok, we have to be up now,” you clapped your hands enthusiastically as Namjoon propped himself up, looking pitifully dazed.

“Five more minutes,” he mustered in the face of your excitement.

You turned from the doorway as you looked at the hunkering frame of your boyfriend, a light sigh escaping you at his cuteness.

“You can sleep in the car.” You answered; his reply an indulgent ‘fine’.

And sleep Namjoon did in the car…

He let you slide into the driver’s side, the sleeveless shirt and shorts you’d put out for him matching his pajamas as he pushed the passenger seat all the way back, spreading out like a buffet.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, muffling a yawn.

“You’ll see,” you smiled absently, adjusting the rearview mirror. “You should sleep.”

Namjoon snorted. “Babe, I’ve been awake longer than 25 hours one time, you know.”

All big words, because the moment you turned onto the express way, Namjoon’s head dropped back, mouth open and snores filling the space between you. His sandals came off, then his hat, all tossed into the backseat as he submitted himself to slumber.

You couldn’t help but glance at him fondly, the slight tremble of his nostrils each time a snore passed them oddly endearing.

God, the things you noticed when in love…

And the man you loved was definitely worth noticing, even when he woke up like death as you pulled up in front of the small section of beach where you’d decided to celebrate his birthday.

“Where…are we?” Namjoon questioned dazedly, peering at the smooth white sands leading up to the foaming clear waters.

“The beach,”

“This is not the beach I remember. Did you drive to the northern borders?”

“Not really; they have private sections for people who want to book them.” You told him, docking your car at the small driveway of the cabin adjoining your haven for today.

Namjoon nodded at the explanation, looking somewhat satisfied. The both of you exited the car, you walking over to unlock the door of the cabin.

Inside, it was light and bright, exactly what the brochures had promised and you let out a gentle sigh of relief while your boyfriend set your bags down near the sofa, going straight to the balcony.

You clasped your hands together, moving in the space to make sure everything was the way it should be, the way you paid for them to be. The living room was sparse with bamboo and galvanized chrome furniture, the kitchen clean and stocked; no sea food thankfully, you didn’t want Namjoon to be traumatized realizing he had devoured a precious ‘friend’ on his birthday. You peeked into the bedroom, noting the plush bedding on the metal bed and critically eyed the bathroom.

Toilet, sink, bathtub with shower…all seemed to be in order…you were happy to say.

“Baby,” You turned your head to see Namjoon waiting patiently for you to be done, his own fingers twisting the hem of his shirt, rumpling it further.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, going over to cup his chin. If there was one thing you didn’t want him to do, it was worry about anything.

“I just realized. These things…they cost a lot. Jackson threw a party at a beach like this and it burned a hole through his pocket.”

“Joon, that was because Jackson’s friends turned out to be assholes that nearly destroyed that beach. The poor thing was ranting about never inviting the morons who had no civic or environmental sense. Half that money was for clean up. We won’t be doing anything bad here. We both hate littering, we’re only two people and you are basically a fish.”

Namjoon tilted his head at the consolation, not offended at being compared to a water creature for his love of them.

“I know; but still, how much did you pay?”

You pursed your lips. “Does it matter? It’s your birthday.”

Namjoon shrugged. “I don’t like you spending so much on me. I’d have been glad with take out on my couch and for you to…just stay.”

You gulped. It was too soon. You’d planned all sorts of timings for these conversations.

“You know you spend more on me. I like spoiling you too sometimes.” You whispered. He didn’t look much convinced.

“I’ve been saving for this from the start of the year; I didn’t get too much of a hit on my paychecks darling. Besides, this is a gift for me as much as you. I never get to take you out.”

Namjoon’s pout vanished, his posture straightening as he eyed you with a new zeal. “You’re right. I’m being dumb. I have zero right to do anything but to enjoy our present and bask in all the attention you can give me.” Namjoon pumped his fists lightly in a ‘let’s do this’ movement before gripping your hand tightly.

“Now if you’re done checking for mold or cockroaches, let’s go to the sea; my home in my past life.”

Brittle rock prickled at your soles, the lush waters providing a smoothening feel over the tops of your feet as you stood, absolutely still, reveling in the pure power of nature.

Namjoon and you had walked a little down the shore, leaving footprints that you enjoyed watching being washed away with the currents. Of course, your boyfriend took it upon himself to wax poetic about how this meant that none of you were permanent; just fixtures that could as easily be torn down as you were put up.

You’d shushed him, laughing gently and pointing to the shoals where you were pretty sure Namjoon could crab hunt.

And well…you’d been right.

Within moments, Namjoon was calf deep in the waters, bending over till his face was inches above the surface and hands clasped as if in prayer to find something or the other. You had stayed back, choosing to take some salty deep breaths to rejuvenate yourself.

The stuffy city life was all fine and dandy till the excitement wore away, leaving only a longing for something…green…

Closing your eyes you let your arms loosen up, stretching them away from your body a bit; the skirt of your dress fluttering in the breeze. Maybe you looked silly, but if there was any one you expected to not laugh at you, it would be Namjoon.

Who at that very moment wrapped a muscular arm around your waist, tugging you gently into him, “I’m a little disappointed; no crabs.”

Your eyes popped open, soft and fondly trained on the way Namjoon ducked his head, plump lips jutting out to sulk and the edges of his clothes wet. He looked at you a little sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’m being childish.”

You shook your head immediately, cupping his face and patting those precious dimpled cheeks. “Come on, let’s feed you, you big baby.”

The inside of the cabin, when you tugged him back was warmer than outside, prompting you and Namjoon to open up all the windows and the balcony. Namjoon rummaged through his luggage, pulling out a sheaf of fan mail to read on the deck while you busied yourself in the kitchen.

The sizzle of the pan oil that sautéed the veggies hissed through the air, the scent of honey basted stir fry chicken permeating the small area as you micro waved instant rice. You glanced at the man hunched in thought over at the balcony before noticing the pencil in his hand.

“Yah! Are you writing?” You screeched, the wooden spatula in your hand rising before you could help yourself.

Namjoon flinched, the bunch of papers that you had assumed were letters turning out to be loose papers bound together and a pencil twirling between his dexterous fingers. “I’m just…”

“I thought you promised no work?”

“Yes baby, I was just…struck with a little inspiration.” For his benefit, he did look guilty; knowing that he always being in the ‘work’ mode had been a cause of discomfort more often to him than you. Yet, he never seemed to change…

Well, he wouldn’t be the man you fell for if he did…

You shook your head to yourself, sighing as you pointed to the table. “Ok, come and eat. We can change and sit outside later.” You offered him your hand and Namjoon grasped it quickly, tossing away the writing material on the sofa to join you at the table you’d set.

You’d kept lunch short, sending Namjoon in to shower and change out of his salty wet clothes and changing yourself into another summer dress – this time, a gift from Namjoon. It was blue, hugging at the waist, bought by your boyfriend when he was somewhere near the Caribbean. The small deck at the back of cabin was perfect for watching the sunset and the onset of the thunderstorm, you decided.

Just for the sake of it, you made sure that the contraption was properly nailed down into the fixtures before resting your picnic basket on it, stocked with olives, cherries, a couple strawberries and cheese. You saved the bottle of wine chilling in the fridge for later.

Namjoon soon walked out, a matching blue denim shirt and khaki shorts on with his sleeves rolled up, something he knew you loved on him.

“Hey, we match.” Namjoon beamed at you, the shower having washed away much of the earlier grime from his countenance as he leaned down to kiss you before admiring the small picnic spread on the table. “I know we just ate, but there’s a thunderstorm on the forecast tonight and I thought that we could just sit and watch it begin while having this before heading in for the night?” You ended it as a suggestion, not wanting to sound like you were hijacking the plans for his special day. You totally had planned everything down to a tee but you still wanted Joon to have some say in it.

“I don’t mind; I’d like to see the storm a bit.” Namjoon assured, pulling out a chair for you before plopping down opposite to you, eyes turning once to keenly check the horizon and how bad it could get.

After all, it wouldn’t be Kim Namjoon if he didn’t check things through, no matter how much his girlfriend was always on top of them.

You and Namjoon slowly went through the picnic food while catching up, all your office tales regurgitated for him to comment on or advice upon how to handle while he allowed himself to relax and complain just how overworked he was starting to feel before putting a collective foot down with his members for the break.

You popped a slice of cheese in his mouth. “Good, get angry Kim, you don’t do that enough.”

“I do it a whole lot more than I show babe.”

You smiled at him spewing out further around the mouthful of cheese when you noticed the shadows finally setting in. Almost in synchrony, the both of you turned your heads to look at the sea.

The sun crept towards the horizon, blinking cheekily up at the darkening clouds that loomed overhead. You chewed on your bottom lip, a small trickle of worry trying to worm its way through you. What if you had miscalculated? What if the onslaught of storm was harsher than you had anticipated?

The ocean had picked up its pace, turning a darker, much more intimidating shade compared to the brilliant teal it had been earlier in the day. You turned your head to look at Namjoon, about to voice your concerns and to ask if he wanted to head in sooner rather than later.

Of course, the words stuttered and then died on your lips, your brain too foggy with the image of your awed lover to bring up such trivial matters.

Namjoon had his head craned up at the sky, mouth open slightly as he looked at the clouds with literal heart eyes. His nose was scrunched at the base ever so slightly, making his nostrils flare. His jaw and neck strained, the tight cording in his arms bunching muscles as he hunched over to get a closer look from under the awning. Hair rippled in the quickening wind, lashing against his forehead and flattening it back.

He was beautiful…and you loved him so, so much.

Namjoon’s eyes widened, his head turning to you so fast, he must’ve given himself whiplash. “What did you just say?” He demanded. You blinked, a little slow on the uptake. “What?”

Namjoon stared at you, if possible, much more flabbergasted than he had been at the raging waters. His hands pressed flat to the table, torso nearly bending over it towards you. “What did you just say? I want you to repeat it.”

You gulped; taking a second more to realize that in your stumped wonder, you had accidentally blurted out what you’d been thinking. You had told your boyfriend you loved him, with no consciousness.

Well, there went your first plan.

“Y/N,” Namjoon warned.

“I love you.” You answered meekly. “I love you Kim Namjoon. I love you so much. You are the kindest, gentlest, sweetest man to have graced my life. You are intelligent, understanding, and steady and you have so many ideas I can never keep up with you but I love the chase and I love it when you wait for me to get there. I love how you never make me chase you, just your mind. I love how you’re patient, calm even if you’re a bouncy ball of stress. I love how you could be vibrating but you hold my hand through everything. I love how you sing moonchild to me when I don’t like where I am and I love how you call me your love. I love how you sleep, you big breadcrumb, all over me that I nearly die but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You had barely finished but Namjoon was already out of his chair, hunkering down to yank you up from yours and to crush you to his chest, big arms wrapped tightly around you as he tried to fit his much larger frame into yours. You cooed over him, brushing through his hair as he literally shook.

“Damn, I’ve wanted to say all of that for so long, but you beat me to it. I don’t know if I should be mad at you or not but this is absolutely the best birthday ever.”

You giggled at him, petting the baby hairs at the back of his neck. “Don’t say that just yet, love. I have one more gift for you.”

Namjoon pulled away, an odd glint reflecting deep within his coffee eyes. “There’s more?” he whispered, the same bouncy energy radiating from him, reminiscent of when Jimin had helped you bake a mega two tier Ryan cake, complete with attached body and a head.

“Yep,” you dipped your hand into the shallow pockets - yes! Your dress had pockets! - Of your dress, watching his eyes drift down to your hands in anticipation. You waited a beat, suddenly uncertain.

Did you really want to do this? Were you even ready? Was he ready?

You sighed when you felt his gaze return to you, excitement softening into concern. No, you could do this. You only had to trust him and that was the easiest thing in the world.

Your fingers surfaced, pinky hooked into the loop of the keychain, one key hanging from it.

You let it dangle in front of a now frowning Namjoon, the key swaying in his sight before he raised his palm, letting you drop it into his cupped hand. “Your key; why are you giving me your apartment key…?”

“Well, that’s the gift, I guess.” You mumbled before looking up at him, squaring your shoulders. “I’m willing to stay. I’m ready to move in with you. I mean, of course, it’s up to you and it’s your house but I’m really just going out on a limb here. You can say no and I would totally understand. I don’t want to put you in a spot, I swear.”

“Stop babbling, sweetheart,” Namjoon cut in.

You stammered before guzzling out, while Namjoon let out a huff, hugging you to him again, just for a split second, a tight embrace that gave you no time to wrap your own arms around him again. He pulled away just as soon, one arm around you, holding you to his side as he stared at the key in his palm.

“Of course I want you to move in, Y/N. How many times have I told you to just stay when you walk to the door? How many times have I told you to sleep in with me when you’re rushing to get home so you could go to work? Oh and by the way, I calculated and the time to get to your office is lesser from my place. I was totally going to hit you with that next time. So, yes, I want you to move in. However, the key is yours.” He returned the key to your pocket, hand splaying against the flesh.

His eyes moved to yours, mirroring the small smile dancing around your lips.

“I want to wake up next to you, all crazy haired and puffy. I want to share showers with you, cook you breakfast and clean up with you. I want to call you when I forget what groceries you needed. I want to walk in to see you in the kitchen or on the sofa or maybe even in the bath. I want to show you my pieces when inspiration strikes at 2 AM. I want to stare at you while you nap so I can dedicate you songs. I want you to rant to me while I’m watching TV. I want you to be there to kiss me to shut up at midnight when I get philosophical. I want all of that with you, at all and any time.”

You weren’t going to cry, you vowed. At least not right now…

You wound your arms around his neck, pulling yourself flush to him as matching grins lit up your faces.

“We’re just two morons who talk too damn much.” You whispered, your lips ghosting against him.

Namjoon opened his mouth to retaliate when an almighty flash of lightening broke across the night sky, signaling the start of the storm.

“Well, I suppose that’s the start of that. I would love to watch this.” He said wistfully before turning playful again. “I can think of a better way to end the day though.”

You laughed, swatting his arm when you felt the hand around your waist, inch closer to the curve of your behind.

“Lead the way, birthday boy.”

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #rm #bts rm #bts

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onthepyre · 5 years ago

Text

nyc streets

CHAPTER 2

TW: mentions of homophobia, anxious virgil

Summary: Roman meets the gang and learns the rules

Pairing: eventual prinxiety

A/N: this is kind of an infodump with some fluff sprinkled in at the end

read it on ao3

1 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

Roman and Virgil walked in a comfortable silence, save for Virgil’s obnoxious slurping. He always managed to take the loudest gulps when Roman’s thoughts wandered back to his parents or situation, making it impossible for him to sulk. It disappointed him. Roman enjoyed sulking; in a strange way, it cleared his mind. As he started to ponder whether this was actually the best idea, Virgil seemed to be doing his best to burst his eardrums.

“Could you… not?” Roman stopped walking and threw his hands over his ears. Virgil, a smirk plastered across his face, took the opportunity to inhale three-quarters of the remaining slurpee.

“Not what?” he teased.

“Not act like you’re trying to drink a hurricane.” Virgil chuckled, sucked down the rest, and stuck his neon-blue tongue out at Roman.

They walked for a while, the alleys around them growing darker and Virgil growing visibly more anxious. He tugged at his hood, fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket, picked at his lips, glanced around every corner. Roman hadn’t known Virgil for long, but his mannerisms made his thoughts clear: he didn’t like this part of the city. He stepped a bit closer, hoping Virgil was one of those people who was calmed down by physical contact.

It seemed Virgil was the opposite. “Don’t.” His voice came out as a half-whisper, half-hiss. Roman took a step back, then another for good measure. Virgil groaned quietly. “I get that you’re trying to help, I really do, it’s just that in this area…” He trailed off, but Roman got the message. It was New York City, but there were monsters everywhere.

“Your friends aren’t, um, unaccepting, I hope?”

“Oh, god, no,” Virgil said. “Nicest people around. I wouldn’t be around them if they weren’t supportive.”

“Good.” Roman smiled softly. Supportive. He hadn’t had anyone support him since he was a kid.

“The corner’s right up here. We stick around this area and few spots in Central Park that the rangers don’t check. The Park tends to fill up pretty quick though, so we’re here most nights.”

Corner. Park. The sudden overwhelming reality of the situation made Roman feel like he was a rat caught on the subway tracks.

“Oh yeah,” Virgil interjected, “and on rainy nights we sleep in subway stations. You gotta watch for rats, though.”

Great. Just amazing.

“Alright.” Virgil came to a halt, spinning on his heel to face Roman.

“...okay?” Roman stared down at Virgil, confused.

“I gotta do this now, because they’re gonna be all over me for being out late and bringing a mysterious boy with me. We’ve got a few rules.” Roman’s mind raced. Rules? Was he about to join a gang? Would there be blood sacrifices? Murder?

“Rule 1: We don’t want your sob story. Don’t wax poetic about your dead dog or whatever. It’s in the past. We’re all here, on the streets. Everyone’s got one, not everybody needs to hear it.” Roman felt his shoulders relax. Maybe this wasn’t a gang.

“Rule 2: Don’t press for information you don’t need.” Is this a gang or not, Roman wanted to ask, but he didn’t, because if it was Virgil would probably murder him on the spot. Virgil continued, “There’s stuff you don’t want to hear. Don’t ask, and we won’t tell you.”

“Rule 3: We’re here for each other’s protection, not friendship. I know I’ve been nice and all, but they won’t be as kind as me. Well, except for Patton, but he doesn’t count. We’re trying to make sure nobody else gets killed in return for us not getting killed. So, y’know, watch out for the others and they’ll watch out for you.” Roman’s “Is This A Gang” scales were tipping. What kind of cult shit was this?

“Rule 4: Don’t steal from the others. This seems like a no-brainer, but there’s been issues in the past.” Finally, Roman thought. Something normal.

“And finally, Rule 5: Think of yourself first, but everyone else immediately after. Don’t get yourself killed, but if you win the lottery, maybe help us out a bit. Got it?”

“I think so.” Roman hesitated. “Don’t be sappy or an asshole.”

“Yeah, you’ve got the gist. Let’s go.” Virgil turned away and made a sharp left. The alley he had chosen was darker than the rest, leaving Roman squinting to see the patchwork jacket a few feet in front of him. He picked at the holes in his own coat, wondering if he could get Virgil to fix it for him.

He was so distracted that he almost didn’t notice Virgil come to an abrupt stop ahead of him.

“Hey,” Virgil said.

“Where have you been?”

“I was so worried!”

“Who’s that?”

“Ah, so you finally found yourself a man.”

The four voices rang out at once, startling Roman. He thought he saw Virgil smile in the dark.

“No, guys, chill out. This is Roman. He got kicked out, and he bought me a slurpee.” Virgil’s silhouette shrugged. Two people rose to greet him, while the other pair stayed sprawled out on the ground.

“Hello. My name is Logan,” the first said, “and this is-”

“Patton!” The second was shouting, a sharp contrast to Logan’s reserved demeanor. “You can call me Dad. But only if you want! You must have a messy relationship with your parents, so I understand if you don’t want to.” Roman could see Virgil facepalming next to him.

“That’s alright. Patton works fine for me.” Roman smiled, hoping Patton wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

“And this is Remus and Deceit.” Virgil pointed to the two tired-looking figures on the pavement.

“Howdy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“It must be past midnight,” Logan announced. “We’ve all met Virgil’s friend. We need sleep. Let’s all sit down.” Logan, Patton, and Virgil all collapsed in a heap with Remus and Deceit. Roman stayed standing.

“What, is the prince too good to sit on the ground?” Virgil joked. “Would His Majesty like some dumpster cardboard?” Roman snorted, but sat down next to Virgil. He was freezing, but didn’t want to cross any boundaries and stayed a safe distance away.

“I’m not gonna bite you.” The words were a whisper, but Roman still heard them over the noises of the city. He scooted close enough that he could drop his head onto Virgil’s shoulder. They sat like that for a while, not saying anything, just doing their best to stay warm

“You’re shivering,” Virgil noticed.

“I’m not used to sleeping outside.”

Without a word, Virgil slid his jacket off and draped it over the two of them, then slipped his arm around Roman’s shoulder.

Against all odds, Roman slept like he was comatose.

#tw: mentions of homophobia #tw: anxious virgil #homeless au #runaway au #prinxiety #prinxiety fic #roman sanders #virgil sanders #they both get to be angsty this time #sort of fluff #roman is gay and stupid #june's writing

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