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linkemon · 6 months

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Beauty is only skin deep (yandere) Schoenheit Vil x Reader x LeBlanche Neige

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ɴᴇɪɢᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴠɪʟ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ? ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴜsᴇᴡᴀʀᴅᴇɴ ᴏғ ʀᴀᴍsʜᴀᴄᴋʟᴇ ᴅᴏʀᴍɪᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ. ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ ɪs ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴠɪʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇɪɢᴇ's ʟᴏᴏsᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ғᴀɪʀʏ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ sɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ.

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 1. ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs sᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀs ғᴏʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 5. 2. ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴛᴇxᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴅɪsᴛᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏғ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

— I'm wishing for the one I love to find me... — The singing voice sounded closer and closer.

[Reader] looked around among the green trees, trying to find its source. At first, she was very scared when Grim told her that he had heard something or someone strange in their dormitory. She assumed they were ghosts but when she asked them about it, they denied it. So, complaining about the scared cat, she went to check the situation. There was nothing good to say about their crumbling and overgrown bit of school but it was still their corner. If any of the students came here just like that, she had to talk to them. Crowley wouldn't do anything about it anyway, as long as she knew the lazy headmaster. At worst, she could try to report it to the housewarden responsible for this person.

The girl passed another sad-looking bush. And behind it she saw an intruder. He chose a place near a well that had not been used for a long time. Its newer version was located in the main courtyard of the school, so it was forgotten by everyone. The bricks were covered with moss that tried to keep them in check. The boy rested both elbows on the unstable wall and stared at his reflection in the water below. She had to admit he had a beautiful voice. She had never heard the song but the notes were pure and seemed to permeate her entire being. The feeling with which he sang was truly moving. But that didn't change the fact that his uniform was definitely different from the ones worn at Night Raven College. Instead of black, he wore white. What was someone out of high school doing here? A beret with a red ribbon rested askew on his head. Only when she got closer to him did she realize that there were birds sitting on the hat. She took a few more steps and suddenly, out of nowhere, the boy was surrounded by a circle of animals. All the squirrels, mice, hedgehogs and even frogs in the area came out of their hiding places and stared at her accusingly, trying to separate her from the singer.

[Reader] stepped back. The crack of a branch under her shoe startled everyone, including the teenager. He stopped mid-sentence and turned towards her. Unfortunately, he leaned against the well where the bricks were loose. The girl grabbed his hand before he could fall into the dark abyss. The boy swallowed loudly. She could see him slowly realizing what he had just avoided.

— Thank you very much... ummm... what's your name? — Embarrassed, he still held her hand.

— I guess I should ask who you are first. You don't go to our school. I am Housewarden of the Ramshackle Dorm and for obvious reasons no one should venture here.

Was [Reader] lying? Of course. No one issued any bans on staying in this part of the forest. That didn't mean the stranger would know about it. After the series of overblots and increasingly strange events that had occurred since she arrived at the magical school, she was fed up with trouble. She wanted him to just disappear and let her spend her afternoon doing something else. For example, buying the can of tuna promised to Grim.

— Really? I'm so sorry! — He grabbed both of her hands and closed them in his as a gesture of remorse. — I didn't know you weren't allowed in here! Director Ambrose didn't mention anything but I also admit that I was a little lost and...

If he was lying, he was really good at it. But for some reason it didn't seem like that to her. The brown eyes looked really sincere. There was a sparkle about them that she felt was missing from many NRC students.

— Who is Director Ambrose? — [Reader] asked, releasing her hands from his grip.

— Ah... he's the headmaster of the Royal Sword Academy. It's a twin school to yours. My name is Neige. Neige LeBlanche. — He smiled gently.

If such a school really existed, the girl had never heard of it before. She heard something about the Spelldrive tournament but she had other things on her mind at the time. Not that she'd ever needed it before. She learned many things about the world of Twisted Wonderland this way. By chance. Because to the people around her, many facts were so obvious that they couldn't even think of making her aware of them.

It seemed to her as if the boy was waiting for something. But she didn't know what for. So she decided to take pity on him and offer help.

— Well... I'll walk you to the exit — she said, moving forward.

On the way, Neige told her why he came to her school. It turned out that there was a festival every year that (as always) she had no idea about. He planned to appear as one of the participants, dancing and singing with his friends. The headmaster decided to take him with him to get used to the unknown place. Scratching the back of his neck, he admitted that he had never been very good at reading directions, which had landed him in the wrong place today.

— I think you sing really beautifully — the girl said, seeing the Ramshackle's gate in sight.

She had to admit that when she compared his voice to the singers she knew from home, none of them seemed to compare to him. He had kind of a charm to it.

— Did you hear that at the well?! — The embarrassed boy forced a smile. — It wasn't a big deal... although I'm glad you liked it! — he added quickly.

— You should take up music seriously. Do you play with your bandmates or something? — [Reader] asked.

— So you don't know anything? — His brow furrowed for a moment in surprise.

— About what?

So she had no idea he was a star. This was new to him. Usually everyone who met him knew who they were dealing with sooner or later.

— Neige! My dear, there you are!

[Reader] has never seen this man before. However, she could assume that he was the director of RSA. He was dressed in a long, dark blue robe. Again and again he stroked his snow-white beard and adjusted his glasses. Plus, he showed up with Crowley, which was definitely unusual.

— We have to go — the old man said, shooting a defiant look at the NRC director. — I'll see you at the festival. I wish you good luck! — he said not so sincerely.

— May the best win! — Crowley smiled maliciously.

All the ravens in the area began to squawk.

LeBlanche followed Ambrose but at one point he turned and ran back.

— I didn't ask for your name in the end! — He panted, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

— [Reader] — the girl replied, casting a questioning glance at her headmaster.

The man shrugged and then walked away, leaving her without a word of explanation. She'll need to learn more from her first-year friends.

— See you at the festival! — With these words, Neige disappeared around the corner.

***

Vil looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was perfect. As always. It reflected the hours spent perfecting it. Healthy diet, training and sacrifices. Hours devoted to self-improvement. All this to become an actor that the crowds will love. And yet he won again. Neige LeBlanche. He got another role. Schoenheit was to remain a villain forever. He never managed to pass the casting for the main character. Maybe because good was never in his nature. Although in the case of his rival it was almost childish naivety, which honestly irritated him.

— Mira, Mira, who is the most popular actor of them all?

— Your search results are: Neige LeBlanche, Vil Schoenheit... — The boy threw the phone on the couch. He didn't need to hear any further results.

All for nothing. He overcame so many difficulties to get here and was still in second place. Even after that stupid overblot he survived. The dark, sticky tentacles of too much magic were still stuck deep inside him. Not physically but in the mind. In the end, the doe-eyed boy mattered more to everyone around him. Even for Rook, whom he trusted so much. He didn't manage to survive his Fairest One of All, or poison Neige, or even win that stupid competition.

The only person who was still by his side after all this was [Reader]. Ramshackle Housewarden didn't hesitate to run straight to meet him as his curse lingered in the air. And although it annoyed him at the time that she was on the opposite side, he was aware that she did it for him. She told him about it when it was all over. She was the only one who was really there. Perfectly imperfect girl. So out of character with his image. And yet he fell in love. He fit it somewhere in his busy life, full of fame and fans.

So why did this thought bother him? Did he really need to check this? He shook his head. He had nothing to fear. He knew they were made for each other. It wasn't a test or a game. It was proof. Confirmation of how connected they are to each other.

He thought of the Big Seven. The Fairest Queen also used her talents. Astrology, potions and alchemy. All this to become better. Why shouldn't he be like her? He should use his gift. Its fruit will be a beautiful gift. A certainty that they will keep with [Reader] as a couple forever.

He made some tea. Epel's family sent it. Their apple orchards had been popular since he advertised them on Magicam. He strained the grounds and poured the brew into a cup. Little. White. Pure as snow. With a gold pattern on the edges. Soft. It was easy to destroy if you weren't skilled enough.

He heard footsteps in the corridor and hesitated for a moment over the tray. Maybe doing it today wasn't a good idea after all.

— Sorry for being late. I bumped into someone on the way and stayed to chat. — [Reader] closed the door and sat down on the purple sofa.

— Ah yes? With whom? — Vil placed the sugar cubes on the silver tray.

The sugar, of course, was cane sugar. If they had to poison themselves from time to time, at least he'd do it with a slightly healthier version.

— With Neige — the girl replied after a short moment of silence. — We haven't seen each other since SDC.

The Song & Dance Championship. This unfortunate event was the moment when his life spiraled completely out of control.

His hand didn't shake as he sweetened the tea just the way she liked it. After all, he has been an actor for almost his entire life. Was he angry? NO. Perhaps rather disappointed that she was giving LeBlanche any attention at all.

— What were you talking about? — he asked.

— Mainly about you. He would really like to be your friend, Vil... I don't think he fully understands that you don't like him. Even after everything that happened between you two.

Friend. The word gave him a headache. For some reason this boy had made up his mind thinking that they could be anything more than enemies. Neige was as bright as the sun. Vil was like the moon. What he did best was reflecting its light. And no matter how many modeling sessions he undertook, how many articles he appeared in, how many fans he gained on Magicam, how many premieres he had, he was always the worse one. He hated him. So much so that he was ready to poison him a few months ago. He was glad he was stopped. Such a victory would not be worth little. One day he will overcome him in skill and achieve complete perfection. True beauty.

— I'm not going to be friends with him — Vil said firmly.

— I know. I won't push you to do it. I just wanted to tell you this because we'll probably be seeing more of him.

— Why? — He sat down across from her, setting the tray on the gold-plated table.

— Crowley agreed to a new student exchange program. Some people from RSA will come to us for a few weeks. Grim and I were given quite a thankless task. We are to accommodate them for this time. None of the other housewardens agreed to have them under their roof. I didn't really want to give in but keeping this demon cat costs money. And Neige asked on behalf of Headmaster Ambrose.

Vil touched the magical pen hidden in his pocket and touched the cup with his finger. Maybe it was a good day to do it after all. It wasn't jealousy. It was just confirmation of what he already knew. Fairest One of All . His unique spell that inflicts a curse under any condition. A dream from which only the kiss of true love can awaken. Wasn't it romantic?

His lover lifted the tea to her lips. She took a sip. The eyelids closed almost immediately. He saw surprise in her eyes. However, this expression was quickly replaced by a calm, sleepy face. He caught the porcelain before it could hit the floor.

He gently stroked her face with his thumb. She looked lovely taking a nap. But he had to wake her up. They didn't have all day.

— You'll still have plenty of time to sleep — he whispered.

With these words, he connected their lips. It was strange not to feel her kiss back like she had every time before. He moved away. He waited a few seconds but nothing changed. His heart started beating faster. He tried again. Still nothing.

He felt his thoughts speeding up. After all, he cast the curse correctly. He thought about every word. So why wasn't anything happening?

Heat rushed through his body as he helplessly tried to shake the sleeping girl. The truth dawned on him like a storm of applause piercing the silence after a performance on stage. His spell never lied. So there was only one explanation. They weren't a perfect couple. That's because Vil wasn't [Reader]'s true love...

***

Neige looked around the dormitory. It was obvious that the Headmaster was sparing his thaumarks when he came to Ramshackle. Old curtains, creaky floors and an unattractive surroundings. But that didn't change the fact that there was order here. Grim had already explained to him how hard work he had done (with a little help from the housewarden, not that he needed it, of course) to get the building up to date. And indeed, despite the old age, there was something cozy in colorful blankets, a plush sofa and an old TV.

It was nice here. At least in his opinion. The RSA students who came with him seemed to disagree. At least not everyone. One third-year tied a scarf around his head and began scrubbing the floor as soon as he arrived, complaining about bacteria. Several others, however, started arguing with the first people they met, saying that it was unfair for them to live in such conditions. He had known about the rivalry between the schools for a long time but he had a feeling that some people really exaggerated.

While Ramshackle itself wasn't that bad, it wasn't how he imagined his stay here would be. He hoped to study and spend time together. For a few quiet moments when he can enjoy his life as a student. He loved his fans and music was a big part of him but sometimes he needed a break. Meanwhile, when he arrived, he found a worried demon cat accompanied by worried ghosts. [Reader] slept for the third day in a row and couldn't wake up. Her worried friends, whom he knew from the festival, came to visit her. According to the headmaster, it wasn't a restorative nap but some kind of illness or curse. He was unable to say. The students from Heartslabyul discussed among themselves that Crowley was not making much effort to change the student's situation.

LeBlanche really liked [Reader]. It felt stupid to admit it but when they met, he wished at the well that he would find true love. He even threw the thaumark into the water. It disappeared into it with a soft splash. It's not entirely that the boy believed that his wish would come true. However, when the girl grabbed his hand, he felt that maybe fate was not just a fantasy he had read about in books. He sincerely hoped that he would get to know her better when he came as an exchange student. Their conversations rarely lasted long because he usually had to go back to school right away. He wanted to change that. However, he came across this unfortunate situation and now the only thing he could think about was how to help the bedridden person. Maybe he should join the protest Ace and Deuce were organizing. Her friends were very worried about her and said that they would not wait for the headmaster to graciously do anything.

Neige entered the room. Her condition still hasn't changed. She was breathing steadily. The sun streamed through the dusty window, illuminating her unnaturally pale face. There were students from Pomefiore in the room. He recognized Rook. The boy smiled warmly at him. After all, he was his first fan, which he found out during the festival. Epel, on the other hand, looked at him quite indifferently. He had to admit that his performance at SDC was truly great. The high voice he used was memorable. Vil, on the other hand, frowned when he saw Neige in the doorway. The boy put it down to being worried about his friend. It must have been really hard for him because he looked furious.

— Hi, everyone — he greeted them quietly, walking up to the bed.

— We were just leaving — Epel announced, pulling the vice housewarden behind him.

The blonde looked genuinely disconsolate that he had to leave. His friend was just the opposite. He must have had enough of sitting.

— How are you feeling, Vil? — the brunette asked, standing right next to him.

— How should I feel if my girlfriend has been lying here for three days? — The tone of his voice was as cold as ice. It pierced menacingly through the silence in the room.

— Girlfriend?

If there was one thing LeBlanche didn't expect, it was this. He had never heard that they were a couple before.

— We didn't flaunt our relationship.

Probably because of his career. In Schoenheit's industry, couples were viewed quite unfavorably. Single people were perceived better by fans. He knew something about it himself. Although in his case he had never had to choose before.

He looked at [Reader]. So he had been getting his hopes up all this time. He hoped that everything would be alright with her and that she and Vil would be happy again soon. And, although he felt a slight twinge somewhere near his heart, he decided to ignore it. His friend was a truly wonderful and hard-working man. No wonder she chose him.

He sat down on an old, worn-out stool, right next to the headboard.

— Ummm... hey, [Reader]. I don't really know what to say in situations like this. It's the first time I've encountered something like this — Neige laughed quietly. — I hope you feel better soon and...

— Don't you have anything else to do? — asked the blonde, giving him an angry look.

Vil was standing in a dark part of the room, away from the window. He crossed his arms over his chest. His high heels hit the old boards again and again.

That was not nice. Despite everything, the boy decided not to worry about his friend's words. He must have been nervous. It's natural in such a situation. He'll definitely get over it soon, so he had to be understanding.

— I'm leaving now — he nodded.

In fact, he didn't have much time to say anything. But he didn't want to upset Vil even more. He grabbed [Reader]'s hand. She was cold to the touch. He hoped she would be warm again soon. When she is healthy, they will talk as before. Even if only for a moment, he will be satisfied. He kissed her knuckles gently.

— Wake up quickly — he whispered.

He turned to leave the room. In his thoughts he prayed for the patient's quick recovery. Suddenly he heard a loud yawn. He couldn't believe his eyes. [Reader] was already awake. She rubbed her eyelids and looked around.

— Vil. — Her voice was quiet, but definitely not friendly. — She stared at her boyfriend, her fingers clenching the sheets.

She stood up, wobbling and Neige immediately ran over to help her stay upright. She was furious. He had never seen her like this before.

Loud laughter echoed throughout the dormitory. It was Vil. It started with a chuckle and then progressed to a mocking laugh.

— Him? — He pointed to the brunette. — Of all people it had to be him?

He pulled out his magical pen. A purple mist began to creep out from under his feet. Fairest One of All flowed across the floor, trying to fill the room.

— Everything's all right? We heard… — Rook almost got hit by a spell.

Magic flew right above his head.

Vil stared ahead. He was aware of what was happening. He was on the road to the overblot again. Dark goo filled the crystal in his pen. Faster and faster with every second. And yet he had no desire to stop it. What was the point?

They were standing right in front of him. [Reader] in front. How it suited her. She was the first one ready to rush towards danger, despite her lack of magic. It's been like that since she got here. He was impressed by it. She was like a legendary prince in shining armor. Neige stood behind her. With his naive kindness as a shield against everything life threw at him. How idiotic. Like a damsell in distress.

— Vil, let's talk...

Prince and princess. Perfect couple. He was never allowed to play the main character. He was always the villain. So where he stood was his place on the stage. On the opposite side.

— True love's kiss! — He heard himself, as if from a distance, laughing hysterically.

Of all the possible people, it had to be LeBlanche. The man he hated. He had everything he always wanted. And now he even had her. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be consumed by the approaching darkness.

If he couldn't become the hero, he would be the villain...

#vil shoenheit x reader #neige leblanche x reader #vil schoenheit #oneshot #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #epel felmier #rook hunt #neige leblanche #yandere #yandere au

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xoxoamyas · 8 months

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Café Girl

rating : fluff/angst, hospitalization, and a protest mention.

wilbur x fem!reader [ use of you/yours, no use of y/n ]

☆ you meet wilbur at a café you frequent. instantly, you two hit it off. after a while of talking, you randomly go no-contact only for him to find out you're in the hospital. he doesn't intend to leave your side. <3

note : n/a [ hope you enjoy :] ]

request [ ☆ ]

masterlist [ ☆ ]

⋆˙⟡

The café was your favourite. You were a regular since you had first heard of it sometime within the past year or so.

Wilbur wasn't a regular, only having recently heard of the place. He thought he'd give it a try, scope it out to see if he and his friends could film in the spot.

You were working on your laptop in a booth, studying for an upcoming test you had in one of your college courses. A few books to the side closest to the wall, your laptop right in front of you as you slowly scrolling through the materials on a PowerPoint you had been sent via email by one of your professors.

You didn't see him right away, but he saw you. He had ordered himself a refresher, lemonaid of some sort, and was looking for a place to sit. You had seemed like you had your own bubble, but that wasn't what caught his eye entirely.

Wilbur had seen the slight furrow of your brow and the light nibble on your lip before you had gone to sip on your latte.

“Excuse me, ma'am?” You looked up, focus having been broken by the voice some odd feet besides you. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

In an instant, you were taken by surprise. Having not expected someone of his stature to even talk with you. The way his brown hair was the perfect amount of fluffy and just barely in his eyes. The plain beige sweater he wore over his white collared polo. He was put together, and it was obvious.

“Uhm, sure, I don't mind.” You gave him a nervous smile, mentally degrading yourself for practically stuttering over your words. Moving slightly to fix the books to the side so that they were more organised. You made sure all of the tabs on your laptop were saved properly before shutting that, too, and resting one of your hands over the top of it.

“Thank you. What were you studying for?” He decides to ask, skipping introductions out of pure curiosity. He had seen the glimpse of a power point, but hadn't read anything on the screen out of respect for your privacy.

“Oh, nothing. Just for an upcoming test.” You shrug, watching as he had sat down across from you and practically nursed the refresher between his hands. “I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?”

“Oh, don't apologize. Should have started with that.” Wilbur lightly chuckled, having brought a hand up to nervously run along his neck. Suddenly self-conscious over the potential stubble rash that could have been along his neck. To him, you were gorgeous, and he didn't want to screw up before he had the chance to even know your name.

“I'm Wilbur, but you can call me Will, if you'd like.” He offers the hand he hadn't used to run along his neck for a handshake in proper greeting. Smiling a bit more when he hears you say your name in return to him as you shook his hand.

He repeats your name back to you, a certain smooth undertone to his voice as he does so. It nearly sent shivers up your spine, but instead, you chose to relax and practically melt.

“Do you come here often?” He asks after a moment of just taking your features in. Both of his hands now along his drink, just holding it to try and calm any rising nerves.

“Yeah, I guess I can be considered a regular. I've come here every day for a while. I don't always get anything like I used to because the entire staff here knows me.” You let out a light laugh, a small flush going over your face in embarrassment. You spent more time at the café than you did your own flat. It was just a soothing environment to be in.

“I think that's cute.” Wilbur comments with a small smile, not missing the way you subtly moved to sip your latte to hide the embarrassment on your face. “I hope you wouldn't mind if I joined you some of those days?” He asks, in hopes of getting to know you. He wanted to at least be your friend, even if in the moment all he wanted to do was take you out on a date to see if you two could click anymore than he felt you two already had.

“Oh, no, I don't mind the company at all.” You can't help but smile, that warmth flooding through your chest as you felt like there were butterflies in your stomach. “I’m usually here at about the same time every day.” He offers a smile, taking mental note of your words.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Conversation continued on like that for a little while, just getting to know each other. He found out you had a pet cat that stayed with your parents. You found out that he likes to play the guitar and that he’s self-taught.

It goes like that for a few days up until Sunday hits. Having long exchanged numbers sometime a few days prior.

Wilbur hadn't seen you at the café like he thought he would. It made his stomach twist in discomfort, having not seen you in your usual spot with your nose in a book or tapping away at your laptop. He had asked one of the employees at first, trying to see if you were potentially there earlier but had no luck. He waited a good ten minutes at first before shooting you a text message. Leaving after a good forty minutes of waiting since he had made plans with one of his friends beforehand and couldn't stick around.

There was no sign of you Monday, nor Tuesday. Wednesday, a gnawing feeling was chewing at his gut. He had texted you a lot over the past seventy or so hours to no avail. No response after the next.

Maybe you didn't have as much interest in him as he initially thought you would have? But then you wouldn't have said yes to exchanging phone numbers or letting him sit with you. You weren't the type to lead someone on like that, and it was clear.

Thursday, he heard nothing once more. Friday, he tried calling a few different times only to end up going straight to voicemail. Had your phone been turned off or dead? You typically had it charged and available for any communication.

Saturday, he tries the café employees again. And he felt both like a weight was lifted off only to have another added right on.

Sunday, he was rushing into a hospital that had been within the area. The employee he had talked to ended up telling Wilbur you were hospitalised, yet not what for. It made him feel physically ill the moment the words processed in his mind. It had been beyond visiting hours when he initially found out, though, so he couldn't do anything anyway.

Wilbur had given your name to the front receptionist, the lady taking longer than she should have to give a room number. The second he had the number, he was rushing to find you.

He muttered a swear beneath his breath the second he reached your room, pulling his dishevelled self together before calmly as possible, opening the door. Wilbur could feel his heart simultaneously break and deflate, seeing you hooked up to a heart rate monitor as well as an IV.

Will took the seat closest to you, taking one of your hands in both of his own. A small sigh escaped his lips as he pulled your hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles of your hand.

Your lip was fairly busted paired with a black eye, what looked to be bruising along some of your neck and more sprinkled along what he could see of your arms. Your knuckles were red and fairly scraped.

It definitely wasn't good, but you were clearly tended to. It must have been bad, especially if you were potentially there since last Sunday. It made him want to simultaneously cry and put down whoever put you in this hospital bed.

“Will?” Your voice is light and hoarse, mostly on the quieter side.

“Hey, hey, don't strain yourself.” He's quick to move, gently pressing on of his hands to your shoulder to prevent you from moving to sit up. Instantly feeling bad when he sees you flinch at the motion.

“Sorry.. What's goin’ on?” You ask, words lightly slurring together. You must've been on some sort of medication to help with any pains.

“I'm not sure. One of the employees at the café told me you were hospitalised. That was it. Do you remember what happened?” His voice is soft as he asks, clearly not wanting to hash up the memory of it but not knowing was killing him. He needed to know why you looked so beat up.

“There was a protest goin’ on at my college.” You hum a bit, moving your free hand to rub at one of your eyes. Slightly flinching when your hand made contact with your eye. “Think it got out of hand.”

Wilbur can't help but sigh, brows furrowing in thought. He mutters a swear to himself, bringing your hand right back up to his mouth. His lips pressing against your knuckles once more, this time for a little bit longer.

“Go back to sleep, okay? Focus on feeling better.” He murmured out for you to hear, one of his hands moving up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb gently grazing along your skin, trying to be comforting in the moment.

Will smiles a bit when you lean into the touch, seeing you nod even the smallest amount. His heart nearly melted as he watched you close your eyes.

“I love you,” He whispered after a long moment of silence. His heart felt like it was breaking when you didn't respond, though he knew you wouldn't since it didn't take long for you to fall asleep.

Wilbur wasn't going anywhere.

#amyas writes #x reader #fluff #angst #wilbur soot #wilbur fluff #wilbur angst #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you

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literaila · 2 years

Text

i know you

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

"i'm peter."

"and?"

"i wanted to introduce myself."

"i know who you are, peter."

warnings: college party, mentions of biology, peter is a bit of.. a... so-so, um, embarrassment

there's a boy leaning against the wall.

there's music bouncing--blasting--between walls. flashes of light, and ridiculous bursts of laughter happening every couple of seconds. there must be a game going on somewhere.

this house is old, and trashed, and completely uncomfortable to stand in because it is filled with body heat and the smell of alcohol, and people that will laugh at you but not listen.

but this boy is the only one leaning against the wall opposite of you.

his face is blank, except for the smirk that appears to be the resting position of his lips. his feet are crossed, his fingers are tapping against the drywall. he moves only to shake the hair out of his eyes, to raise an eyebrow at whatever someone has shouted from across the room.

and he's not looking at you.

he's not even looking toward you, really. instead, he's chatting to anyone that walks by with a glass in their hands, patting people on the back, and smiling a polite smile every time someone tries to go even further with him, trying to get him to move from that wall.

it's yellow, by the way. there are stains across it that you don't want to think about.

but this boy seems completely comfortable there. or, at least, his back has been superglued to the wall and he doesn't want to draw any attention to himself.

and maybe you're paying a bit too much attention to him.

but, to be fair, you know this boy from more than just that wall across the room.

you know him from your biology class when you walked in the first day--late because there's no real way to arrive on time when it's eight in the morning--and there were no empty seats in sight.

you might've blamed the person who scheduled more students in this auditorium than fit, or you could've blamed yourself for deciding to go to college in the first place. to be in that classroom at exactly the wrong moment.

because lots of people turned to stare, and you had nowhere to run.

but the boy--the same boy who is not looking at you now--cleared his throat, he motioned, three rows down, to the seat next to him and smiled at you when you sat down. nodded his head when you asked him if he would share his notes--just for the ten minutes you'd missed.

and you don't know his name, because as soon as that class had ended you'd sprinted out the doors, wanting to go hide in bed and never think about evolution or cells ever again.

you still sit next to him every tuesday, right at eight.

you still don't know his name.

even now, at this party that you had carefully decided to come to. to stand at, because you've always been a bit of a type of person, and you've always had a hard time in crowded rooms, and you hate parties.

and really, you're just staring at him.

but what else is there for you to do?

are you supposed to find someone to run away with? run into the other room and ask to play beer pong with everyone else? hide in the bathroom and ignore the vague smell of vomit that comes from the shower? go home, and find yourself completely alone?

no, you know. you don't really like any of these options.

but you do like staring at this boy.

because, as you're not an idiot, and as this boy is completely oblivious to your burning gaze, he's quite cute.

attractive in that kind of i-don't-care-but-yes-i-do way. and you already know that he's smart.

and you also know that he's got brown eyes and a smile reserved only for the warmest of summer nights.

you just don't know his name.

it's as you have this thought that his eyes dart towards you.

brown and far too far away.

you almost look away--like any sane person might do when they've been caught staring at someone for at least the past three minutes--but there's something about his eyes. even slightly blurry. there's something about the funny look that comes to his face, the slow blink and once-over he does to you.

you continue staring.

just, probably, a bit more awkward.

still, it only takes ten seconds for the boy to smile, leaning off the wall slightly, and give you a wave.

cause he knows you, and you know him.

and yet, it takes you one blink and one second to turn your eyes away, getting one more flash of teeth and yellow before you head out of the room, searching for the nearest door.

peter isn't in the habit of following people.

correction; peter isn't in the habit of following random people he spots at parties. he's also not in the habit of going to parties, but this is college and it was loud enough in his dorm room anyway and it's friday night so...

here he is.

here he's been for the past hour, trying to make conversation with people he "knows" and also avoid any and all interaction.

he's doing this not for himself, mostly, but for his aunt, who gets worried that he is some loner who never leaves his room except for food and class. and for the people that notice when he's gone all of the time.

he's hoping to be caught by at least one person that might mention him. just a slight comment to their friends. or a clap on the back that will earn him at least another month of anonymity.

either way, he doesn't plan to stay for too long.

but when he locks onto you across the room, holding a cup in your hands and ducking behind anyone who moves past, peter decides that maybe he wants to do a bit more than stand there. that maybe he wants to take a shot. it's bright enough in here to aim correctly.

and maybe may will stop bothering him about the nice girl he mentioned one time...

he smiles and waves, laughing a bit at the eyes that widen in response.

and then he frowns when you disappear, ducking away from his eyes and into another room.

peter was right, it would seem. he's not going to be staying for much longer.

"lost?" a voice asks you after you've gone in a circle around this house about four different times.

you smell like stale breath and the warnings of strangers to watch out.

and you almost flinch when this voice--both particular and familiar--comes out of nowhere.

you turn, hand raised in defense, to meet brown eyes, and a boy with his hand across the doorway, leaning, once again, on a wall.

you make an effort not to frown, scream, or run away.

"wha--" you clear your throat, swallow, and look around for anyone who might save you. "what?"

"you've walked past me three times."

"no, i haven't."

"are you sure?" the boy ducks, staring right at you. he's smiling. "cause the first time, you tripped. and then the next two times you watched your step and scowled."

"are you following me?"

"you're walking in circles."

you cross your arms, deciding to furrow your brows at this boy and point your nose up. "maybe i'm dizzy."

"and you want to be dizzier?"

"maybe if i'm in motion i won't be dizzy anymore."

the boy leans over, eyes peeled. "yeah. that's water, so unless you have a medical condition you need to alert someone about..."

"what do you want?"

he laughs, and resumes his comfortable position on the wall. "i'm peter."

"and?"

"i wanted to introduce myself."

you look around again, maybe for the door. "i know who you are, peter."

you don't mention that this is the first time you've ever said his name.

"is that why you were staring at me?"

you cough. scratch at your neck and look behind yourself. "i don't--" you shake your head, looking back to peter, with his amused brown eyes and a crinkle in his brows. "i don't know what you mean, but i've really got to be going--"

"need some help finding the door?"

"nope. i've got it, but thanks."

you have no idea where the door is. in fact, at the present moment, you're almost sure you must have climbed in here through a window. or this house is a strange labyrinth you'll never escape.

it doesn't matter, you walk away, present and presently avoiding this boy named peter who you certainly do not know.

"oh good, i'm heading that way too," peter says, matching your stride and opening a door for both of you to walk through.

you recognize the test for what it is, just as you recognize his eyes.

"great," you respond.

and then pretend that you're not following his movements out of the house.

"so," peter says, holding the front door open for you. "are you going to tell me your name?"

"i don't think that's necessary."

peter hides a smile and walks with you down the front steps, hands in his pockets. it's a bit dark, a bit cold.

he tries not to watch you shiver.

"why not?"

"i don't plan on seeing you ever again, peter."

he scoffs, and moves in front of you, raising a brow. "is that because you're embarrassed?"

you look away, pretending to admire a tree.

"oh, and," peter adds, "you should plan to see me in class on tuesday. at eight."

you blow out a quick breath, smiling politely at him. "i'll add it to my calendar."

and then you move past him, continuing to walk down the sidewalk at a much fast pace.

luckily, peter is used to running.

"c'mon," he says, catching up to you again. "it's only fair."

"are you following me again, or do you live this way?"

"could be both."

peter can almost feel you roll your eyes from beside him.

and, at this point, he's very happy to be away from that party. if only for the smell of fresh air, rather than sweat.

and maybe the company. but peter is trying not to dwell too much on it.

"can i guess?" peter asks.

"sure. you've got one try."

peter sighs, looking at you. "i'm guessing it isn't dorothy..."

you snort and turn right, walking across the crosswalk.

peter knows this place well enough to not feel too concerned about where you're going.

"do you live on campus?"

you glance over at him, suspiciously. "i think that's too personal of a question, peter."

"oh, sorry," he holds his hands up in defense. "we can just get started with your family history, if you prefer."

"i usually tend to go for academic record."

peter nods, thinking solemnly. "you're right. what was i thinking?"

"i'm not sure," you say, and when peter looks over, he notices a quirk of your lip.

he rewards himself with another glance. with one, two, three, four seconds of staring.

"janice?"

you give him a blank stare.

"grace?"

you hum.

"hope?" he tries, slowing his pace and noticing that you do the same. "faith?"

"are you just listing out personal traits, now?"

"well, i'm trying to gain your trust. strength?"

"close," you answer, not laughing at all. "very close."

"give me a hint."

"that's definitely cheating."

peter blows a raspberry, turning to walk backward so he can watch you some more. "i gave you my name without any questions."

"you seem like a reckless person."

"that was going to be my next guess."

you shake your head, looking at anything except for peter. he can't quite discern why.

"i think you owe me," he says, after a moment of silence. "at least this."

you laugh. "for what?"

"well, i saved you in biology that one time--"

"--saved me?"

"and for being free eye candy, of course."

"oh, of course."

your nose twitches and you sniff. peter stares as you take a deep breath, look around, slowing to a stop, and then finally meet his eyes.

you almost smile.

he stares back, waiting and willing to wait.

"y/n," you say, finally, holding your hand out. "i'm y/n."

peter takes it, throat closing at the feeling. he blinks and internalizes everything so he can replay it later tonight.

he is slightly victorious.

he drops your hand. "okay, y/n. are you hungry right now?"

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @sharkswaters

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we-out-here-simping · 3 months

Text

pt. 1: Manic pixie dream girl

(s.h. x desi!fem!reader)

warning/tags: use of (y/n), she/her pronouns used, based in 2010s, mention of cheating, bad parents, arguments, alcohol, mention of homophobia, toilet jokes (literally. i apologize), everybody is atleast a lil bicurious (except robin ofc)

a/n: and it starts!! i know i rreally kept yall waiting on this one and i probs will continue to do so (oops) im just out here trying to teach yall about delayed gratification lol soz

this fic went in crack fic territory for a bit of this chapter (yes the toilet museum is an actual place) i swear i don't know why my fics end up having potty humour sometimes I'm sorry

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist

masterlist

…

[Challa]

The last time Steve Harrington went on a vacation was with his parents when he was thirteen.

When he turned fourteen, his dad told him to focus more on school and sports and stopped bringing him around.

And sure, maybe it was also because during that past vacation, Stanley Harrington was found with screwing around with his secretary by his wife. Steve didn't remember much of it; he was hiding in the other room when the shouting began. Thankfully the walls muffled most of it.

it was after that vacation, things changed, Steve finally started to see through the cracks in the image his family always put up– the picture-perfect family. The well manufactured family photos hanging throughout his empty house tried their best to hide everything ugly. He started to see how in the photographs, his dad refused to stand closer to his mom, how his mom didn’t smile.

The expression on his father’s face that closely resembles a scowl, as if he was forced to take a picture with a business partner and not his own wife and son. The expensive dress his mom wore along with her makeup done perfectly. The grey bags under both their eyes.

Finally, himself– hair shorter than it is now because his dad always told him a real man never lets it grow past his ears, all slicked down and brushed aside, his expensive suit that made him better dressed than any other thirteen year old in town and his teeth stretched in what his mom called his ‘million dollar smile’.

It was after that vacation, that his mom stopped trusting his dad, and Steve didn't blame her– he stopped trusting him too. from that point on, Steve's mom would always go with his dad for his business trips. He tried not to think about if his dad ever saw that girl again.

Things changed. His mom, who had always loved gardening, hired a guy to take care of the flowers instead. the flowers were never as bright as they were when she used to take care of them. And sure, she had always liked wine, but now, Steve couldn't recall when he didn't see her with a bottle next to her or with the twig of wine glass twisting between her fingers.

Things changed. They are tired now, both of them.

So yeah, he didn't have the fondest memories of vacations.

But when his two best friends, Robin Buckley, and Eddie Munson suggested a trip before the latter leaves for a band tour he had managed to land, Robin gets into her new college and he himself gets ready for his dad's work– Steve just couldn't say no.

Currently they were in a random shop of the airport. Steve's legs are stiff from the long flight, same with his neck. if it was socially acceptable to lie like a puddle between the aisles of a store in an airport, he would do it.

“Robs, how long is this going to take?” Steve asks.

she ignores them as she cards through travel brochures and books, her back to the two boys. Steve adjusts his hold on the heavy basket, the thing filled to the brim with random snacks and some alcohol because the in-flight meal really was not it, plastic of the handle digging into his palm.

“Just pick one and let's check out already.”

“No.”

Steve once again readjusts his hold on the basket, hoping that the robin's crankiness is because of the long flight and not because she is still mad at him, “why?”

“Because someone has to plan where we are going to go. And neither of you two are too keen on it–”

"Don't drag me into this Buckley-" Robin shoots eddie a stern glare before he could even finish his sentence. He clears his throat before excusing himself from the aisle. The wheels of the suitcase he carried squeak behind him as they roll over the clean tiles of the airport.

Steve sighs– yep, she was still mad at him, “Robs..”, he trails off, hoping she spares him a glance. when she doesn't and instead continues to flip through the glossy pages of the thin book, he speaks up, “Hey, Robin.”

He hears her sigh. “Here", She tosses the books in the basket he had been holding and makes a beeline towards the cashier without sparing him a single look, "let’s just go.”

…

[Ek akela is sheher mein]

The sky is in this inbetween of day and evening with grey clouds above them while they load their luggage into the cab.

Eddie sits upfront, his frizzy hair now in a bun. Steve sits in the back with Robin, hoping to strike up conversation with her but the pair of headphones over her ears don't let him do so. Steve sighs, he can tell that she isn't listening to music, but they make it pretty clear she doesn't want to have a conversation.

The windows are cranked open, they have dried up water streaks– it might have rained not too long ago. The asphalt is glistening, reflecting the yellow streetlamps and the red taillights. The cab driver drives like Eddie– a bit too fast for Steve’s liking. Tires splash murky rainwater into little mesmerizing sprays when bikers drive through the puddles, surely wetting some of the passersby with the dirty water. Steve doesn't think of the dirty laundry those people would have to do though, or the showers those people have to take. Instead, he focuses on the sound the water creates, ringing against the metal of the underside of the car, a satisfying sound.

The cab driver takes so many turns, Steve lost count after the third one. A song plays on the radio, an old song, he can tell by the static and that accompanies the singer, the crackle at the beginning of the song. He doesn't know what the man sings in the song, it is quiet with its percussion, delicate with the strings. Steve catches Eddie absentmindedly tapping his fingers on his knee.

Steve looks over the console, it reads 106.4 FM. They're stuck in traffic when the song fades off. two voices come on, who Steve assumes are the hosts. They talk amongst themselves, joke, laugh, yet they speak with a perfect cadence that makes him think they've done it for ages. By the time the traffic gets moving, another song starts playing, this one more chipper than the last one.

The driver weaves through the crowd, making sure to use his horn more than is necessary. when he turns into a lane, Its a tight fit, the car and the road, yet somehow, he manages to maneuver the vehicle around the lamp post and random wrongly parked bikes.

The entire time they are checking into the hotel, Robin stands separately, flipping through the magazines near the sofa of the waiting area. Steve and Eddie fill in details and she only speaks up when asked for an id card. The staff helps them take their luggage to their rooms. Robin wordlessly goes into her room.

It is when Steve is taking off his shoes, Eddie jests, "what a scene ain't it Harrington?" Looking up, Steve finds the older boy holding the curtains wide open, the window faces a brick wall, despite being promised a good view. Steve doesn't say anything, he breathes out what can only be described as a half-hearted chuckle.

“What do I say to her?" Steve asks, running his hands over his face.

“Don’t ask me,” Eddie shakes his head before hanging his jacket inside the closet, “it's you two who have the whole platonic soulmate shit going on, I'm just a third wheel over here”, he mumbles rather dryly, heading towards the bathroom, the door closing behind him.

...

Robin's room was right in front of theirs-- room 105. Steve knocks on the wood. The door swings open after a few seconds, and there is Robin in comfier clothes, makeup taken off and a deep furrow between her brows, “hey.”

“You plan on being mad at me for all of this vacation?”

“...No, but you make it really easy”, she rolls her eyes opening the door a bit more so he could come in.

“Yeah… I’m sorry”, he apologises with a small grin as he slips in.

“I know dingus”, she chuckles a little, closing the door.

he looks around the room, “Dude, this room is so much better”, this was definitely more spacious than the one he and Eddie were in, “Or maybe that’s ‘cause mine has Eddie in it.”

She holds up the bottle of vodka they had picked up at the store earlier, “don't mind if I do”, Steve makes grabby hands at the bottle, grinning when she passes it to him. He twists open the cap and pours it into the glasses she holds up that already had some water in them.

the corners of her lips curl up as well, “mine has somewhat of a balcony too”, she tells him, handing him his glass.

“dude, what?”, his eyes widen. and when he walks over, pulling the curtains aside he is met with the glimmering city skyline, “our window faces a brick wall”

she laughs before sliding the glass door open. stepping forward, the balcony is small– the railing a mere two steps past the threshold of the sliding glass door. Robin leans, her elbows resting on the cool metal railing and Steve wipes away some of the rain droplets with his palm before following suit.

Despite it being around 9 pm, looking at the skyline it seems the city of Delhi never sleeps. there's a faint buzz of upbeat music playing somewhere close– there must be a club nearby. or a wedding.

“We should go clubbing tomorrow”, Robin suggests, raising her glass up in the air towards him.

he hums while raising his own. glasses clink, “sure thing, partner” he says before he downs the entire thing, face scrunching at the burning taste on his tongue.

Robin sips some of her own, her gaze moving down to the road below. There is a litter of puppies chasing each other around the empty street, the warm yellow light of the lamp post filtering over them. an older dog sits by the street light, watching over them. it's quieter than what the rest of the town seems like, hushed, calmer than the rush they had met on their way here.

Steve frowns at his already empty glass and goes back in the room to retrieve the bottle, pouring himself some more on the way back to the balcony, “shouldn't we offer some to Eddie?--”

“we need to talk”, she interrupts him.

they both pause as he gulps a bit of his drink before saying, "well, we are aren't we?"

"no, like talk-talk"

“ok”, he nods once before his brows meet in confusion, “about..?”

"you said it yourself, I can't be mad at you the entire time we're here."

“Robs, it's okay–”

“I think it's pretty obvious I don't like you going for that job.”

“mhm, yeah, you've communicated that well enough.”

"exactly! and you still can't get it through your thick skull"

"what exactly?"

“you don't want that job steve! I know you. you don't like that kind of job and I don't want you to do this thing just because your dad is pushing you to do it”, her grip on her glass tightens, “it's-- it's stupid. thats a stupid thing to do.”

“it's not stupid Robin–”

“i want you to do a job that makes you happy, finance doesn't make you happy”

“believe it or not robs, working at scoops also didn't make me all that happy, working with my best friend did. and you'll be moving out to chicago”

"if I get in", steve takes offence to how quickly she shuts down that possibility.

"you will. I know you don't believe it Robs, but you'll get that college you wanted and then you'll move out. and Eddie is doing all these gigs, trust me", he turns to her, silently begging for her to look him in his eyes, "me going for this job is the best option, Robin." When her eyes stay trained on the street below, he sighs before looking back up at the sky-- no stars in sight. "and you're right, it's not a job I want. but I do need it. and if my asshole dad is still willing to help my sorry ass then I should seize it right?"

he glances back at her, he doesn't get a response from her, yet Steve looks at her with furrowed brows, begging for her to agree.

two of the puppies wrestle amongst themselves, it's all high pitched barks and rolling around, dirtying their fur in the process.

its quiet for a while, he sips his remaining drink. for a while its just that ambiance, the muffled city noise, dogs barking, the hum of air conditioners.

"dude, you're going to become a finance bro", Steve finally hears her say, "then I'll be best friends with a finance bro, ew", she scrunches her face the way he knows it's mostly playful, a laugh falling from her lips by the end of the sentence.

I want you to do a job that makes you happy.

I want you happy.

he laughs too, breathy. he readjusts his grip on his glass, leaning against the rails next to her. “I'm gonna save up, robs”, he promises looking her right in the eyes-- its hard to see the blue in them in this dark, “and if everything works out we can just get an apartment in Chicago then we can be roommates?”

she looks back at him, brows shooting up, “...you promise?”

“pinky.”

she gulps before taking another sip from the glass in her hand, “I don't wanna lose more people steve”, she says, her thumb wiping the condensation on the glass in her hand, and he can tell she's trying her darndest to not let her voice crack.

her parents hadn't taken kindly to her coming out. she hadn't even meant to come out. Vickie's ex boyfriend had outed both of them to their parents– it had been a mess.

whenever she'd tried to call her parents, as soon as they'd realise that it was her, the line would cut off. Once they recognised that she'd always call from either Steve's or Nancy's, they stopped picking up altogether.

it's been months.

“you won't ever lose me Robs”, he immediately says because there is no doubt in it, meaning it more than anything else.

She leans her head on his shoulder, letting in a deep breath, and somehow Steve just knows it means ‘I love you, dingus’

He wraps an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder ‘love you too birdie’.

Silence takes over, but it isn't all that much quiet, the puppies bark, their feet splashing against the little puddle they are playing around now. The two who had been fighting are licking each other. The faint music is still present, cars still honking away in the heart of the city– people honk a lot here. It's all faint but there.

“So", he takes in a deep breath, "you plan where we're going yet?”

Robin takes her head off his shoulder before clearing her throat, “yeah, a bit–", she takes a sip of the forgotten drink in her hold, "there's just so much– there's too much honestly. maybe we get a guide but like those are expensive aren't they? I don't know, maybe they aren't–"

"Robs slow down"

"Okay, okay uh... I have a couple places down", she walks back into the room, picks up the book she had gotten earlier and hands it to him. Flipping through the glossy pages, Steve sees a few monuments and tourist attractions are marked by a pen, Steve is sure he can't pronounce most of these names.

“Oh, did you know they have a toilet museum here?” Robin speaks up after some time.

“wh–”

“before you say it, yes I'm being serious, they have a toilet museum, and were going there”

“seriously? they have historical buildings, monuments, tombs and shit and you wanna see a toilet museum?”

"we'll go to those places too but I also wanna see a toilet museum"

"why?"

"so I can find a place for you and Eddie to live."

“thanks", he deadpans.

They discuss and talk through their plans for the next day. its after midnight when Steve says his goodnight, the bottle of remaining vodka in his hand. for Eddie of course.

“Night Steve, kiss Eddie goodnight for me!”

“shut up.”

….

Despite having zero concrete plans, Steve, Robin and Eddie were definitely behind on their schedule. Sleeping in too late made them miss their free complementary breakfast that the hotel offered.

Steve was so hungry that he would eat Eddie if it was morally and ethically an okay thing to do.

They instead had to order the hotel food which took way too goddamn long to come. Thankfully, when they were done, the hotel manager offered them a guide and a cab to show them around.

The guide was fluent in english, talking about the history of the places he took them. Qutb minar, Jama Masjid, Swaminarayan Akshardham, Humayun's tomb, india gate, lotus temple, All historical places and important monuments. And as beautiful as they were, all the information sort of muddled together for Steve. although incredibly knowledgeable, the guide was going a bit too fast for him.

when the tour for the day was nearing an end, Robin bought up the toilet museum. If the man wasn't getting paid such a good amount, he wouldn’t have bothered to even hide his judgement like he did.

...

“That one looks like a confession booth”, Eddie points to the wooden seat that looked to be from the olden times, and much to his credit, the description was in fact apt.

“That one just looks like a bird-bath!” Robin points to the one in question and once again the description was accurate.

“This one is just a glorified flower pot.”

“Is it really glorified though?”

“Do you think… they'll let us sit on it? I wanna sit on the confession booth one”

“.. I dont know robin, why dont you ask them.”

“Please, do not touch them”, the guide interrupts them immediately.

“Dude, that one looks like a therapist's chair!” robin skips towards the toilet seat in question, having the time of her life. The other two follow behind. Steve looked around at the multitude of posters hung on the walls– who knew toilets would have such rich history. Along with informative posters, the walls were also covered in comic strips related to poop– toilet humor at its finest, truly.

Steve takes a big gulp from the water bottle Robin had made to hold. just when he is doing so, he feels someone bump into his shoulder, some of the water spilling onto his shirt from the action.

"oh shit, I'm so sorry!" you apologise with wide eyes.

a "sorry" falls from Steve's lips as well even though he didn't do anything.

Your wide eyes morph into a shy smile, “oh shit", you mumble, giggles erupting from your throat before you even know it, "You know ‘cause– uh.. Shit", you try to explain, gesturing around you.

“Oh, yeah, yeah I get it”

“Sorry, by the way”

“Its okay. I wasn't looking”, you smile a little shyly when he shakes his head, “I was just looking at… all this”, he pointing his thumb in the general direction of the wall. You hum through a small laugh "I mean who would even think of a toilet based museum?"

“maybe it's a dig at how the British took everything else so…."

"holy shit, that's an interesting way to look at it"

"yeah, pretty sure it's not true but that's how I choose to look at it"

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't quite catch your name–”

“Hey, Steve!” he stops midway when he hears his name from across the hall, voice belonging to Robin.

“Sorry, I have to go, I've been here for hours,” you start walking past him, glancing at your watch, “Fun meeting you, Steve.”

"Who was that girl?" is the first thing Robin asks when Steve finally walks over to them.

He shrugs, "the hell am I supposed to know?"

"So you talked to her for like half an hour and you don't know?"

"It wasn't that long, Munson."

"it felt that long, especially considering the second hand embarrassment I felt from way over there."

He rolls his eyes, unscrewing his abandoned water bottle and taking a swig from it while walking ahead.

“Hey dingus, quit being sulky.”

“I'm not being sulky”

“Yeah, you are. I mean, what were you expecting Harrington? a meet-cute?”

“no, dude. I was just trying to talk to someone normal”

“I know the urges are there harrington”, Robin starts, making Steve scrunch up his nose at her choice of words, “its been months since the break up– I get it. There's a time and place for everything. This was not it.”

“Oh my god”, Steve mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Give poor Harrington a break Robin”, Eddie’s hand claps the boy's shoulder, speaking with a kind cadence– one too kind for Edward Munson, “maybe he hasn't moved on, didn't he say that she was the one?”

“The one? Doesn't our hopeless romantic say that about every girl? Even me, at one point– if I remember correctly?”

“God, you're never gonna let me live that down are you?”

“No.”

“Okay, stop”, Steve holds up his hands, “I wasn't doing anything. she just bumped into me and… small talk happened, that's it. end of story. and I'm not being sulky or anything. and yes I am very much over the break up, it happened months ago. So can you both stop bringing it up all the time?”

Robin and Eddie share a look, “..sure.”

…

Eddie and Robin had already collected back the room keys, and already left for their respective rooms. Crowning Steve with the responsibility of handling the finances with the tour guide. It is when Steve is paying the guide, the glass door opens. And when Steve glances over, he is met with your face. He can't help the smile that creeps onto his face.

You haven't noticed him yet, instead walking straight towards the counter. "Room 111”, he hears you say while he tries to hand the money to the guide as quickly as possible.

The guide nods, thanking him with a smile. The key clink when the manager puts it on the counter, Steve is there and the words come out of his mouth before he even knows it. “Toilet museum girl?”

Your head snaps towards him, features morphing into what can only be described as disgust. There is a flash of recognition before you say, “uh… what the fuck did you just call me?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just– we just keep running into each other, don't we?”

A smirk comes onto your face, you swipe up the keys from the counter before you start moving towards the elevators, “That we do. Are you stalking me?”

“uh, not intentionally, no", he clarifies, following behind you.

You give him a look, "uh huh."

"I know it looks bad but I swear it's happenstance"

The elevator button lights up beneath your finger when you press it, "Sure", you say in a tone that says you do not believe him at all.

"i swear I'm–"

"I already said ‘sure’", you deadpan, the doors ding open and the both of you step in. He sees the corners of your mouth curl up when you move to press the button for the floor you both were on, Steve couldn't help but smile too.

"yeah but the way you said it... said otherwise"

"what? what way?" your brows pull together, voice with the same sarcastic lilt.

"you're doing it again, toilet girl."

"Here's a deal steve, don't call me anything toilet museum related and I'll stop using that tone."

"deal. but... what should I call you then?", he asks, shoving his hands in his jean pockets– trying to take a confident pose, "I could call you by your name... but you won't tell me"

"have you heard of stranger danger Steve?", You cross your arms, turning towards him, "what if I was a serial killer who only murders in small suffocating elevators?"

The elevator dings again, the door opening on their own accord, "then it's a good thing we're here already!", he says, gesturing for you to step out, "and we aren't really strangers--"

"we are."

"Well, we can change that, can't we?", you stop at your room number. you don't answer, but Steve is sure he heard you hum under the rattle of your keys.

When the lock clicks open, he speaks up, “Hey, uh... what're you doing tonight?”

You turn around, “... uh, Sleep probably”, there’s that tone again.

“No, princess”, he mimics your sarcastic tone but the nickname comes out before he even knows, “before that.”

Your eyes narrow, maybe at the tone, maybe at the nickname, “Nothing, I'll probably rot in bed or something”

“You're alone?”

“Does it matter?” you counter immediately.

“Well we’re going to a club nearby, you can tag along? and if you're with someone you can bring them along too?"

"Why must I? You could be an international axe murderer"

“You think such a handsome, pretty face could ever murder?”

“And what if I say I don't do alcohol?”

“Then you can be our designated driver?”

“Yeah, no”, you sigh, the door knob twisting in your hand.

“Okay, well if you change your mind– it's the club right down the road.”

“Have fun with your friends”, is all you say before disappearing behind the door. And Steve is left behind, staring at the wood, the number 111 mocking him.

God, what the fuck was he thinking?

…

The next morning, they thankfully wake up on time despite being definitely and awfully hungover. So here Steve was, with his messy bed hair and sleep mussed eyes, standing in line for the toaster, with a plate in his hand.

Steve blinks slowly as the queue moves, the air smells like coffee, warm toast, and waffles. He can smell spices too, probably from the dishes which he had never had before or heard the name of. And as much as Steve loves trying out new dishes, a hangover is not a good time to experiment with his taste buds so he thinks he’ll have to chew on toast and wash it down with mediocre coffee this morning.

The line moves forward again, he feels something brush against his back but he chalks it up as an accident and ignores it. He turns when he feels a finger poking into his shoulder and it's you. “Hi”, you smile up at him, you're wearing jeans and a pink embroidered top. Your hair is untied, tucked behind your ears and a little damp.

His free hand immediately flies up to his hair, fingers running through the messy strands to make it look a little more presentable, “uh, hi”, palm smoothes over his wrinkly t-shirt.

“Is.. is that your friend?” you say pointing to Eddie who was standing over at the waffle machine, pouring some honey on his stack.

“Yeah, yeah that's Eddie”

“Oh, makes sense”, you say, met with confusion written on Steve's face, “He kept trying to strike up a conversation. Also his waffles are a little burnt– I wouldn't share if I were you.” Steve laughs at that, fingers still trying to tame his wild mess of hair, “So, I see you had fun at that club last night”

“That obvious?”

“Very.”

"Where are you planning on going today?", you ask.

"not sure, Robin is deciding right now probably"

“Robin..?”

“Oh, she’s over there”, he points to his best-friend who was sitting at an empty table, coffee already in hand, flipping through pages of a book.

"you three really didn't plan any of this huh?"

"no, not really."

…

"so you're telling me you're travelling by car and barely trying any street food. jail. jail time to all of you", you were sitting with Steve and his friends now.

"how the hell were we supposed to know? the guide didn't tell us"

"what was the poor guy supposed to do? you can't see so much in just a couple days"

"but there's just so much", you hear Robin speak up for the first time.

"yeah! and you have to accept that you can't see everything, no matter what you do, you're always going to miss something. so shorten this list of yours. and the things you do see, take your time with them. or you'll forget them."

“Ok bud, then where should we go?”

"well if you want to you can go to the red fort, then chandni chowk and then Hazrat Nizamuddin dargah? Its thursday so it’ll be absolutely packed"

"Okay. Will we find you there?"

"I hope not." you say non-chalantly while sipping your chai.

"maybe– maybe we can all go together?" Steve suggests with raised eyebrows. you make an unconvinced noise at the offer. "Still on the fence about the axe murderer thing?"

"Always."

…

Steve wasnt sure how, but he had managed to convince you to come along with them. He sat infront of you in the auto rikshaw, your hair had dried by the time you reached your first destination.

The tour around red fort ended rather quickly than he had anticipated, before you pulled them all to chandni chowk.

your hair was now tied up, some of the baby strands sticking to the back of your neck. you looked like you felt right at home, skipping from one shop to another. stopping for some delectable street food every now and then.

you were all enjoying a sweet syrupy jalebi when you called for Robin's name, “Do you like wearing earrings?” you ask.

the girl looks at you, a little hesitant when she answers, “Uh.. someti–”

“Here! This one would look great on you”, you say holding up a pair of glimmering silver and blue earrings. "do you like it?"

"I- um, I do", you grin at that.

steve wasn't where the time flew, but they were already headed to your next destination on your list with bags of little things he, Eddie and Robin bought.

...

[kun Faya kun]

It felt weird to be barefoot, you had given all the shoes to a man by a store. Where the four of you stood now, the street looked breathtaking. Small shops, some selling flowers and incense, some selling religious blankets that you had called chaddars, others selling attar, and so on and so forth. The bright greens, reds, blues and oranges of the chaddars illuminated by the warm lights of the shops looked akin to a canopy of swirling colours.

Currently, you were helping Robin put on a scarf you had gotten earlier from a shop in Chandni chowk over her head, just the way that you had. When you were done, you instructed the two boys to cover their heads as well. When you were met with confused looks from the two of them, you clicked your tongue before covering their head with their handkerchief and tying it behind their head.

The man at the store then handed you a few plates with flowers, incense and a few threads, “what are those for?” he asks, pointing at the threads.

“You make a wish with them”, his brows scrunch up together, “come on, I'll explain”, you say, grabbing him by his wrist.

…

“You see these walls? people come from all over, they tie a thread”, you say pointing to a man who was tying the red string into the lattice of the wall. the entire wall had such threads tied to them-- all little prayers and wishes made by someone out there. so many people want something. “and they make a mannat. you tie a thread and make a wish. it's like you're asking for a favour.”

“so I ask for whatever I want?”

“whatever you want", you echoed with a smile before pointing to where a lot of men were by the wall, “you boys do it over there, me and Robin are going there– it's reserved for women".

When Steve is looping the thread through the hole, he does so mindlessly, and only when he is about to tighten the knot does he stop to wonder… what exactly is he wishing for? what the hell does he want?

He looks over at Eddie, who already has his temple leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. Steve wonders what he asked for. he thinks he has a hunch.

Without even thinking, his eyes start searching for robin. he sees you help her tie it before the girl leans her head against the wall too. Steve knows full well what she wants.

And then he sees you, you hesitate while looping the thread. you hesitate when tie the first knot. you hesitate for the second. even from this far away, he could see the hesitation in your eyes before you close them.

He blinks and his gaze snaps back to his own thread, the knot still not tightened. His fingers move on their own when he ties the first one.

what does he want?

He twists the red thread, looping the long end through the loop.

what does he want?

And when he ties the last knot, it echoes in his brain, “what do I want?”

…

The group of men sing at the top of their lungs– their voices carrying experience, a roughness that only years of singing can bring. Eddie explains to Steve that the instrument the man was playing was called a harmonium and a dholak.

“how do you know that?”

“I know a lot, Harrington”, he chuckles when he says it.

Steve glances to where you and Robin are sitting among the other women. and despite being surrounded by such a huge crowd, he can tell Robin is calm which he is glad of. He sees you; you're looking at Robin with an expression he can't quite read, and when she glances your way, you quickly flash her a smile before reverting your eyes back to the singing men.

Its awkward, he can tell that much from afar. He thinks Robin is a little nervous around you, maybe finds you attractive with how little she makes eye contact with you, and how everytime you had said anything to her, it was answered in merely a couple words. He can't make sense of your behaviour though, or the way you look at her a little forlorn. he thinks maybe you're hurt by how unwilling Robin might seem to talk to you despite your constant attempts.

[Aaj jaane ki zid na karo]

You all had come back to the hotel an hour or two ago. As soon as you all had arrived, you had left for your room, something about a call you had to make. And now after taking a bit of a rest, they were getting ready to spend whats left of the night at the club they went to last night.

Steve had his fingers crossed, planning on inviting you with them, hoping to god that you agree because he had fun. a lot more than he would like to admit to you or even his friends.

They're all in Steve's and Eddie's room. Robin all ready, sitting on the edge of his bed. Eddie is tying his shoes, his hair already up, his favourite rings on his digits.

Steve himself was trying to get his hair right, despite how much he had styled his thick strands at the start of the day, they were a little flattened now after the day. after he put some pomade on and his hair was just the way he wanted it, he sprayed on his cologne. just when he was contemplating whether to take his ray-bans with him or not, there was a knock on the door.

Eddie who had been putting on his jacket, was the closest to the door. when he clicked open the door, he was met with your face.

"Hi", you say with a smile before noticing that they're all getting ready to go somewhere. "what're you guys getting dolled up for?"

"We were just going to the club nearby--"

"d'you wanna come with?" Steve offers immediately, walking closer.

"um.. I– I can't..", you mumble apologetically, fingers fidgeting, “I just came here because I wanted to say that I had a lot of fun. And uh, all that.”

"So did we”, Eddie says.

"I just wanted to meet you guys before… leaving"

Steve’s face falls a little, “What do you mean?”

“I'm heading out around 2 am. I have a flight at 4. I'm going south after this."

“Oh.”

Its silent. Nobody says anything, what could they say anyway, you were still technically a stranger– they didnt even know your name yet. You hid your hands behind yourself, perhaps picking at your cuticles. Your eyes flitting between all three of them, “I didn't just want to leave so…”, you lift your arms, Eddie who was the closest, hugged you first. Then you moved to Robin, not giving her a second to say anything, you wrap your arms around her shoulders. After maybe a second, she wraps her arms around you too, patting your back a little awkwardly. When you pull away, her face is a little red. You offer her a smile and she finally returns a rather timid one herself.

Your eyes meet Steve’s, you walk over, he moves closer as well. And when you are face to face, you smile up at him. There's a light in your eyes, subdued but there. And from up this close, he thinks you can see it all, all of him. All his doubts, his insecurities, anxieties. Yet you're smiling up at him.

You rock him a little when you hug him, taking him off his balance. He envelops you in his hold, squeezing tighter than he thought he would. "I really had fun”, his eyes close on their own accord when he feels your warm breath on his neck, when he feels your smile on his skin.

“My name is y/n by the way."

Steve pulls away just a little, eyes trained on yours, "can’t you come with us before leaving? It won't take too long."

"Steve...", you start, voice all soft and apologetic.

"No, its okay", he shakes his head before smiling.

You return a smile back before looping your arms around his neck once again, "I'm glad we met Steve."

"me too."

You pull back, looking him in the eyes, you whisper, "goodbye."

"anyway… Um–”, you clear your throat, Steve's hold loosening on you and you remove your arms from around him as well, stepping away. You stiffly walk towards the door, stopping at the threshold, the knob in your grasp, “you guys have fun! don't get robbed or scammed or whatever. Bye." you gave them one last sheepish smile before closing the door.

...

Prayers entwined into the thread of us all

mine was empty

I lied to the strangers I met, free as wind

she reminded me of her

Its not like we’ll meet again, I'll be loud and cheap

she doesn't look at me just like she did

I’ll hug them goodbye, I’ll be a mystery.

...

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x desi!reader #desi!fem!reader #stranger things au #stranger things fic #desi!reader #steve harrington fluff

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loveydovey-leviathan · 2 years

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reposted from my personal blog @mee-op

meeting again, mistletoe and some other stuff

neige x gn!reader

you have to wonder how in the world ambrose the 63rd managed to convince dire crowley of all people to agree to a joint christmas party between rsa and nrc. ambrose must've provoked crowley in some way. it's the only explanation you can think of.

and now, after several hours of everyone "trying" to get along with one another, you're stuck wandering through the deserted halls of rsa— lost because you were too nervous to ask anyone where the restroom was.

as you quietly marvel at the interior of the castle-like school and how ethereal it looks reflecting the night sky, you hear a pair of footsteps walking towards you.

your first instinct is to hide. you've been alone in the walls of nrc before and it has never ended well— whether it be ghosts, a group of students wanting to gang up on the only person with no magical ability or something else.

but before you could search for somewhere to lay low until said person disappears, their gentle voice calls out to you.

''umm... hello?''

....you'd recognise that voice anywhere, especially after what happened at vdc. so you turn around and sure enough, it's the one and only neige leblanche.

you figure it'd be way too awkward to just- walk away after he saw you, so you take several steps forward and close the distance.

''err- hey...?'' you say, nervously scratching the back of your head.

luckily, the person in front of you seems better at social interaction than you are and gives you a soft smile, ''are you lost? the main hall is a bit far from here.''

''yeah, actually..'' you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. ''i was looking for the restroom.''

''oh! well, i can walk you there if you want,'' he says, hands behind his back as he looks up at you with the warmest brown eyes you've ever seen.

''thanks. that'd be really helpful,'' you're grateful that it was neige who found you and not someone from your school. you've grown a pretty tough skin since coming to twisted wonderland but you don't think you can handle any sarcastic comments tonight.

he gives you another one of his charming grins—one that you're sure some of his fans would go crazy for— and starts leading the way.

''soo... what were you doing before you saw me?'' you ask in a desperate attempt to start small talk.

''i just wanted to get some fresh air. your name's yuu, right? you were vil's manager during vdc,''.

''yep,'' kind of surprised he remembers.

''you know, i was really shocked when headmage ambrose announced that we would be having a joint christmas party with night raven college. i don't think our schools have gotten together other than to compete,''

...the rest of the walk is filled with neige's voice. you don't particularly mind. it's not like you have anything interesting to say anyway.

before you know it, you're in front of the restroom... which was only a couple ways down from the main hall. before you could give your thanks, you're interrupted.

''i'm sorry! this whole time i've been rambling and i didn't give you a chance to talk!'' a look of disappointment washes over his face and eyes drooping in sadness. he looked like a kicked puppy— it's no wonder he's so popular.

''it's fine, really. i don't mind— i'm pretty used to it,'' you say in hopes of cheering him up a little.

you don't think you made much of a difference, but he smiles anyway.

''well.. you're really easy to talk to,'' you can tell he's still giving himself some sort of scolding and you try to look for a way to take his mind off of it. it's not like you aren't used to not getting your word in. besides, he's one of the nicer ones.

''look, mistletoe,'' you say before you think of the repercussions.

''o-oh! erm...'' all traces of disappointment is completely gone, instead replaced with flushed cheeks and a look of shock and embarrassment. ''would you like to...?''

''we don't have to if you're uncomfortable,'' you silently chastise yourself in your head. you could've talked about anything and you chose mistletoe?? at least he doesn't look like he's wallowing in his own self-hate anymore.

there're a few seconds of awkward silence— neige looking embarrassed (and very cute, you think) as you wonder what you should do.

then suddenly, the bashful look turns into one of determination (with cheeks still red) and before anything else could register in your shrimp brain— you feel neige's soft lips on your cheek.

you stand there looking dumbfounded as neige quickly retreats.

''umm.. ihavetogonow, ihopeyouhaveanicenightgoodbye!''

...............................

it's only been a week or so since the party, but neige feels like it's been months. ever since he kissed you under the mistletoe, you haven't left his mind.

and great seven, it's so incredibly cliche— you meet a stranger at a party, you talk like you've known each other for years (though it wasn't much of a conversation) and then the two of you share a kiss under the mistletoe. sparks are flying, the stars are twinkling ever so brightly just for you and him and everything feels just right.

and he's always loved cliche. he's always loved cheesy and romantic, the type that would make some gag and others swoon.

and you must've felt it too, right? like every choice led up to you meeting him? like both of you were puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.

but he was so stupid. he ran away before even knowing your name or asking you out.

but it doesn't matter. he did a bit of digging texting vil and found out you were the prefect of ramshackle dorm! so now he's on your doorstep with the loveliest flowers he could find and some chocolate (he prays you aren't allergic).

he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, rings the doorbell and patiently waits for you to answer. even though he prepared for this, he can't help but be nervous. and it only worsens when he sees you again.

...he really hopes you know how pretty you are. just the sight of you makes his heart skip a beat.

''neige?'' his thoughts are interrupted and he has to scramble to think of what to say.

''h-hi, yuu! how are you?''

''i'm doing good, is... everything alright?''

''everything's great!'' he gulps before he continues— fear welling up inside him. he has to do this now before he even thinks about backing out.

''well, i actually wanted to ask you something...'' holding the bouquet tighter than necessary, he asks. ''would you.. like to go on a date? with me?''

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #twst fanfic #twst x you #twst x yuu #twst x y/n #twst neige #neige leblanche #neige x reader #twisted wonderland neige #neige x you #twst fluff

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mee-op · 2 years

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