#I feel like they misunderstood the prompt unless I did | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out –”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

��We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

It was his father.

Of course.

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.

#mdzs #jin zixuan #wei wuxian #mianmian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #jin guangyao #jiang yanli #my fic #my fics #right hand man

447 notes · View notes

rosaliestark01 · 3 years

Note

I saw ur requests are open. Could you write a shy peter Parker x shy reader where they both one day decided to confess and it’s a lot of stuttering and blushing and rambling nonsense and Ned and mj get so fed up that they just push their heads together or something so they kiss and once they do it’s even more tomato blushing and rambling.

Thank youuu❤️❤️❤️

A Little Push

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: All you and Peter need is a little push to get you on the right track.

Warnings: Maybe one baddish word?

A/N: for @thollandlover

"I'm going to try to ask him out today," you state. Peter Parker sat a few tables away with Ned and MJ. You couldn't help the rush of adoration you felt as he animatedly spoke to Ned about something. The two of you have talked countless times, but the way his face lights up with his hands flying everywhere never failed to put a smile on your face.

Your friends, Bailey and Daniel, absent-mindedly nod their heads as they pick at their lunches. The food wasn't that bad, but you had other things to worry about, like how you would build up the nerve to approach Peter.

"You said that yesterday," Cindy sighed as she pushed her lunch away. Gwen quickly nods in agreement.

"And last week."

"There was also that time you-" Harry begins, but you quickly interrupt him before he says anything you might regret.

"I know, but I'm really going to do it this time." Your friends look skeptical at you while you fold your hand in your lap at the realization that this may be your last chance before the summer break. Finals have already started, and the last day of school is on Friday. You sneak a glance at Peter, only to quickly turn away as you found that he was already staring in your direction.

"Do you think he saw that?" Your eyes widen as you look at your friends who are trying to cover up their amusement.

"Judging by the fact that he looks like a tomato, I'd say yes," Harry laughs. A slight blush creeps up your cheeks as you think of what to do about it.

"I think I should go talk to him," you finally tell them as you rub your hands on your thighs in an attempt to feel less nervous. You stand up, but Harry grabs your arm before you make it very far, prompting you to look at him.

"Remember, direct eye contact is a form of dominance," He states dramatically. "Show him you mean business."

"I'm trying to ask him out, not scare him away," you huff and Harry rolls his eyes at you.

"I'm just trying to give you some advice," he snarks before patting you on the head. "You do you."

"Okay. I'm going to go now," you state confidently, but you don't move an inch. "Can you come with me?"

"No." Harry sighed when he noticed your pout before saying, "Those people are selling popsicles, and I want one."

"Alright," you mumble. "I've got this."

You turn away from your friends and begin to walk towards Peter's table. Halfway through, you turn to look towards your friends, but they all pretended not to have noticed you.

"Hey, Y/N," MJ says. "We missed you on the trip."

One thing is for sure, and that is that you might never have developed feelings for Peter if it weren't for your friendship with MJ. Often, she'd invite you to hang out with her, Peter, and Ned, which led to you and Peter finding out that you had a few things in common. Then, somewhere along the line, you began to see Peter in a new light.

"My cousin was getting married, and, I guess it was kind of lucky, you know, with the whole Mysterio thing going on."

"Yeah," she sighed, obviously not wanting to talk about what when down during their trip.

"Peter-" You start, but Peter cuts you off.

"Y/N-" The two of you look at each other, and you try hard not to let that damn flush crept up your face again. Awkwardly, Peter continues, "I was wondering-I was wondering if maybe you- do you-Maybe you should go first."

You mentally curse yourself for thinking that this was a good idea. In all honesty, you never really thought you'd make it this far.

"Um... Peter, I wanted to ask if..." You pause, realizing you have no idea what you're saying. "The theater is showing Return of the Jedi on Friday."

"Yeah, I think they are," Peter states. You try to keep your face neutral as you realize that he misunderstood you. "If you're not sure, I can check their website if you want."

"What I mean is- Do you plan on going?" You ask, having a hard time keeping your voice level as well.

"Ned and I were going to see it, but you can come to if you want." Peter's whole face lit up, but you're sure that it had more to do with the fact that you were talking about Star Wars than the idea of you joining him... and Ned.

"Uh.. actually, my cousin is getting married on Friday, and I have to be there, you know," Ned blurted. For some reason, MJ looked amused while Peter furrowed his eyebrows.

"I thought your cousin was already-" It hit you that Ned probably knew why you were here.

"I don't want to intrude," You state, realizing that Peter might not want to be alone in a theater with you. If it was obvious to Ned that you like Peter, then it was obvious to Peter too.

"No, it's okay." Peter quickly insisted. "You could never intrude."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, unless you don't want to go."

"I do." 'It's just that..."

"For goodness sake!" MJ cried. She shoved your head toward Peter's while Ned did the same to Peter towards you. It took you a second to realize that your lips were literally touching Peter's, and you immediately pulled away.

"I'm so sorry!" Your eyes had widened in horror. What would he think of you now?!

"I didn't mean to do that." Peter stammered, "Ned- He pushed my head, and- I mean, It-It wasn't that bad. Right?"

"Peter-" Did he just say it wasn't that bad?

"Oh, god. You thought it was bad, didn't you?" Peter jumped to his feet and began pacing with his head in his hands. "That's not how it was supposed to happen."

"Peter, I thought-" You began, but he cut you off again.

"I had a plan, and now I ruined everything-"

You bit your lip nervously as you realize what you're about to do, but it's the only way you could think of to get his attention. You rise to your feet and pull Peter's lips back to yours. This kiss was better than the last, and it was nice that Peter seemed to melt into it. After a second, you pulled away to look at Peter.

"I thought it was nice," you murmured. Peter's eyes were wide, but he seemed to nod in agreement.

"You- You did?" He stuttered.

"Yeah. I came over here to ask if you wanted to see Star Wars with me." As you explain, a look of realization seemed to wash over him. "You know, on- on a date."

"A date? With me? You and me?"

"Yes?" You ask, suddenly becoming unsure.

"I'd love to go on a date with you," Peter beams, and you couldn't help but smile too.

"Not bad, Y/N. Not bad at all," Harry Osborn clapped from the other side of the cafeteria. You and Peter seemed to both realize everyone was watching you. "I told you the eye contact thing works."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker is precious #peter parker #spider-man x yn #spider man x reader #spider man x you #fluff #possibly the fluffiest fluff I have ever written and I'm more than okay with that

247 notes · View notes

witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Text

Alone With You

winter prompts day 5 ❄️ nighttime snow

thank you to @petrificustotaluss for the stunning banner 😍

It's been a long day and now that everyone has settled in to sleep, Geralt can sit and think without interruption. He's glad to have Jaskier with him, still shocked that he managed to get the words out to ask him to come, but glad that he did. But being happy about it and knowing it was the right decision are two different things and Geralt is struggling with the latter.

They had arrived late after a rough trip and Jaskier had been exhausted, yet he had still made the rounds, introducing himself and chatting to the others, telling them how pleased he was to meet them. Then he met Eskel and things were... different. He's never seen Eskel's eyes light up like that before, and the intense focus Jaskier had on him was a little overwhelming, even as a spectator. Geralt hasn't been the target of that intensity for a long time, but he remembers it well.

He had removed himself from the situation after that, not wanting to intrude on their conversation - and he wouldn't have been able to help but listen in. He couldn't be mad about it, really, if there was something there. All he's ever wanted for Eskel is happiness and with Jaskier, he's learning still that he'd rather be alone and watch Jaskier flit off with every second person he meets than to see him lonely. It doesn't stop the thought from hurting, but it does make him feel a little better about it.

Eventually, Jaskier had returned to his side, but they hadn't had time to do much but walk around a little before turning in.

Jaskier has his own room and Geralt hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on Jaskier's breathing to settle him at night. It's fine though. Even if he has to wake up early, being well-rested is optional at the keep (unless he's heading into the mines with Eskel). So tonight, when he couldn't sleep, he'd gotten up and headed out into the courtyard to think.

It's dark, but Geralt's eyes adjust quickly enough and he finds himself keeping to the upper levels, looking out over the valley. It had been a long, hard journey up, harder than usual, and Jaskier hadn't complained once. Geralt smiles to himself, remembering the bright-eyed boy he'd picked up in Posada who had immediately complained about wearing the wrong boots. A lot has changed since then.

He's leaning against the wall when he hears footsteps crunching in the snow behind him. When he looks back, he's surprised to find Jaskier smiling up at him as he climbs the stairs.

"What are you doing out here?" Geralt asks. "You'll freeze."

"Guess you'll just have to keep me warm then, hm?" Jaskier ducks under his arm and presses himself against Geralt's chest, looking over the wall. "It really is stunning, isn't it? I mean, I guess you've seen it too many times and it's just normal to you now, but it's incredible."

Geralt pauses, waiting for something more, but Jaskier falls surprisingly silent. He tips his head, resting it against Geralt's shoulder and he sighs softly.

"Thank you," he whispers, "for bringing me here. I know it couldn't have been easy for you to bring a stranger home."

"You're not a stranger," Geralt blurts and as soon as he does, he regrets the words, but Jaskier will just ask anyway, so he clarifies, "they all know about you. The songs."

"Right," Jaskier hums, "the songs."

"You and Eskel seemed to get along well." Geralt spares a glance when Jaskier doesn't respond immediately and finds him red in the face. He should have known.

"It's fine," he says at the exact same time Jaskier says, "it's not what you think."

Geralt looks down at him and Jaskier squirms, out of his spot, leaning against the wall so he can face Geralt.

"Geralt, you weren't worried about it, were you?"

"No," he says too quickly. Jaskier huffs a quiet laugh and ducks his head.

"Oh my darling, you have nothing to be jealous of-"

"I'm not," Geralt insists, but Jaskier takes a step forward and looks up at him with those big, right eyes. Geralt can't even look at him.

"Promise me you won't get mad," Jaskier says, "Eskel was just saying how glad he is that I'm here... because you're always so sad over the winter."

"He- Eskel-" Geralt stammers and he can feel his own face burns.

"I thought you were happy coming up here to see your brothers?"

"I am," Geralt says and when he meets Jaskier's eyes, he realizes that's not going to be enough. "I miss you," he admits, staring firmly at the ground, "when I'm up here and you're away in Oxenfurt."

"Oh!" Jaskier gasps and it takes a moment for Geralt to realize Jaskier's attention has been redirected. He's not sure whether he should be relieved or offended, but then he looks up.

There's snow falling lightly around them, and Jaskier is enthralled by it. He's beautiful in his fascination, soft flakes landing his hair, and Geralt wants to keep this moment forever.

"I've never seen the snow like this," Jaskier breathes, "On the coast, it's so wet and heavy- it doesn't stick like this. It's beautiful."

When he looks out again, the valley is shrouded in a veil of white, the flakes falling too quickly and densely now to see much past the edges of the keep. It truly is beautiful, he thinks. Maybe Jaskier is right and he takes the views for granted or maybe it's just his presence that makes Geralt's romantic side come out. He doesn't think too much about that.

"Do you think about me?" Jaskier asks abruptly, "when you're tucked away up here for months? I think about you in Oxenfurt. What you're doing, whether you're safe up here, who keeps you company." He doesn't look like he expects a response, but Geralt tells him anyway.

"I do. Think about you." He reaches out, flicking a particularly large snowflake from Jaskier's fringe. "Almost every day. It's too quiet up here without you."

"Oh. Why didn't you ask me to come sooner."

"I... didn't think you'd want to. Didn't want you to say no."

"I would never say no to you, my darling. Not in a million years." Geralt offers up a half-smile, but he doesn't believe him. Evidently, Jaskier realizes this and closes the remaining distance between them.

"Listen," he says, "you're a grump and a grouch and you can pretend all you like, but I know you're soft under all this Witcher nonsense. I know you're sad when Ciri winters with Yen and I know you pretend to be this lone wolf, but really, you crave affection - even if you won't let me give it to you. But I'm here now and there's only so far you can go with the valley being snowed in as we speak.

"Geralt," he whispers, "I know you don't share my feelings, but don't pretend like you're oblivious. Stupid doesn't suit you."

"Your what-?" Geralt's mind reelings, afraid that he's misunderstood, but Jaskier is standing there before him looking so soft and sincere that he doesn't know how he could have.

"Geralt, what did I just-" he doesn't get to finish his sentence because Geralt acts before he can think too much about it. He runs his thumb over Jaskier's bottom lip, effectively silencing him, and for a moment he can't do anything but stare at him.

Jaskier's fingers slip around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away, and he slips up into Geralt's space, bumping their noses together. He hesitates only for a second before pushing forward and kissing him softly. Geralt's mind shuts down for a moment as he tries to register Jaskier's mouth against his own, but then he's kissing him back, arms slipping around Jaskier's waist like they belong there.

Jaskier lets out a little moan as Geralt deepens the kiss and he slips his arms around his neck, holding him close. It does something to him that he's not expecting and Geralt moves automatically, lifting Jaskier onto the wall and pressing in between his thighs.

He's wanted this for so long that he doesn't think and it's not until Jaskier pulls away to breathe that he realizes what he's doing.

"Sorry-" he starts, tugging backward, but Jaskier hauls him back.

"Don't you dare," he breathes, wrapping his legs around him and pulling him into another kiss.

Geralt lets himself be drawn in, wondering how the hell he managed to read things so wrong for so long. But as the snow continues to fall around them and Jaskier pulls him impossibly closer, he decides that it doesn't really matter anymore.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #winter prompt challenge 2k20 #nighttime snow #rex writes

355 notes · View notes

scripttorture · 3 years

Note

Hi! I realize that this probably isn't the sort of thing you usually get asked, but I am a beginner game master planning my first tabletop rpg campaign. And depending on how things play out, it may be that at some point or another, the players might want to try to get information from a character unwilling to give that information to them. Now, as I'm sure you're well aware, it's not exactly a rare thing for heroes in action movies and stuff to beat people up (or threaten to do so) to get them to reveal what information without the story framing it as torture or a bad thing at all, and since this is such a widespread trope in mainstream fiction, I'm worried my players might think to do the same in our game.

So, do you have any suggestions on how to steer them away from resorting to torture and direct them towards proper interrogation in the game, without having to make it an explicit house rule that torture won't get you anything useful? I could technically make that a house rule, but I'd really rather not since we're all pretty inexperienced and it's gonna be confusing enough navigating the official system written down in the rulebook, without keeping track of additional made-up rules that exist because I say so.

Session Zero. You need a session zero.

This is basically a pre-game session where everyone gets together and discusses what they want from the game, players and GM. You talk about expectations, the kind of game you want to play and the comfort levels of everyone around the (virtual) table. Players usually talk about the characters they want to play and it’s a good chance to decide if any of the player characters knew each other before the adventure. It can also be used to get a little bit of roleplay in to help the players get a feel for their characters and the GM to get a feel for the setting.

And these are generally useful things to have sorted before the first game. But you can also use the time to figure out if there were subjects or themes players wanted to avoid completely and if there were any subjects or themes they want warnings about.

Make notes about what your players say and do. I made the rooky error of not doing that my first time (you can always ask again and correct these mistakes.)

If you don’t want to make a hard rule about torture my advice is to bring it up during session zero and discuss it with the players up front.

You can say outright ‘I know torture doesn’t work in reality and I’m uncomfortable with tropes showing it positively in the game. I want to have fun in the game too.’

To be honest I think that kind of direct approach is better for everyone because speaking in euphemisms or trying to hint at something can be genuinely misunderstood. And then people get frustrated with each other.

In game it’s important to reward the behaviour you want to see. Give players XP for good roleplay and for interviewing and investigating things. Give them items.

I know it probably sounds obvious but rewarding players for roleplay instead of just combat encourages them to roleplay. Rewarding them for creative non-violent solutions encourages them to think outside the box. If they use their skills to avoid a fight give them the XP as if they won it. Apply the same process to investigations.

It’s also really important to give players multiple options and have a back up plan for if rolls go badly.

The first area my players got to was a spooky abandoned town and they were looking for the people. They rolled high and found a trail going into the forest. But if they’d rolled low the NPCs they arrived with would have directed them to the next town over and they’d have been told to investigate the forest, some rumours about something coming out of the forest and the general direction the missing people probably went.

Making sure you’ve got multiple ways players can get information should help. Because unless you’ve got a table of people who just want to kill stuff (no judgement on that but it doesn’t sound like the kind of game you want) players are looking at all the options.

Having NPCs around to point out options players didn’t consider can help too.

My players just completed a murder-mystery style investigation and they did an incredible job. They interviewed loads of NPCs, collated notes on who had seen what and went through the luggage of a suspect confiscating spell components before the show down.

Because the party didn’t have anyone with a high degree of magical knowledge (or knowledge of the culture they were in) I gave them a helpful NPC with that knowledge. And I used him to prompt them occasionally. For instance at one point they were interviewing a suspicious ‘wizard’ and the conversation was going in circles. They were rolling high so they knew the ‘wizard’ wasn’t lying but they also didn’t trust his answers.

I had the NPC ask if they could see the ‘wizard’s’ spell book. The players passed it around until it got to a player who could read the language it was written in. The player found it was full of poetry, no spells at all. Between that and casting spells to detect magic and the like they figured the ‘wizard’ wasn’t lying, he was just… deluded.

Remember that a maximum roll doesn’t mean success; it means the best possible outcome. That does not always have to be what the player wants. Rolling a 20 to persuade a guard the character just attacked to let them go and give them back their weapons probably shouldn’t work. Unless there’s something else going on. If the prison is being attacked by zombies may be things should go differently.

Don’t be afraid to say ‘no’ sometimes. Not everything players want is a good idea for the game. As GM you’re responsible for creating a good time for everyone. Which includes you. Refusing things that would cause you distress, or just more stress to figure out in-game, is perfectly valid.

Really talk to your players about the kind of game they’d enjoy and the kind of game you’d enjoy. Work out if those things are compatible.

Sometimes they won’t be. I have plenty of friends who I wouldn’t want GMing for me, because what they like in a game and what I do are very different. And that is OK.

Don’t feel pressured into including elements you’re uncomfortable with. The game is for everyone at the table. You can always say ‘I’m uncomfortable with where this is going, can we tone it down?’

Good friends, good players, will listen.

Edit: I would strongly recommend not limiting player alignment or race choices as a GM. Instead talk to your players about the kind of characters they want to make and how those characters would act. Decide amongst yourselves what fits the game you all want to play instead of assuming you know what a player’s character is like better then they do.

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

#writing advice #tw torture #rpg games #table top roleplay games #torture apologia #torture as interrogation #I DM now and it was a struggle not to gush about my players through all this

110 notes · View notes

kilibaggins · 3 years

Text

I Like Murphy, Too

Murphy x Clarke x Bellamy fic (Mostly Murphamy If I’m Being Honest)

Ao3 Link: HERE

Request: Not Requested!

Prompt: “Person A falls for both person B and person C but B and C hate each other”

Summary: Clarke Griffin is polyamorous, Bellamy knew this when they first started dating. What Bellamy didn't know though, is that when it came down to it, John Murphy is the other man she likes.

A/N: This is the longest Fic i have ever written. It’s the reason I got behind and im not fics behind on my april challenge im doing lol. I hope you enjoy??

Setting: Peaceful Arkadia AU

Warnings: Death of Murphy's parents is mentioned, Alcohol, and i think that’s it?

Word Count: 6009

Tags: @lovelessdyke @ultimatereyesstan

~~~

“You what?” Bellamy asks, looking at Clarke surprised. Clarke shakes her head softly and sighs. She quickly latches the button on her pants.

“I like Murphy, too.” Clarke says, putting on her jacket. Bellamy slips on his shirt and scoffs.

“Seriously?” Bellamy asks, and Clarke crosses her arms and looks at him.

“Look, I told you I’m poly when we first got together. I told you this might happen.” Clarke says, and Bellamy throws his arms up.

“Yeah! But I thought it would be like, Raven or Someone else, not Murphy!“ Bellamy exclaims, plopping down on the bed. Clarke sighs and shakes her head.

“Your issue is with who I like?” Clarke asks, walking forward. Bellamy looks up at her, his shoulder obviously tense. She brings her hand to his face and cups it.

“I don’t like him.” Bellamy grounds out, and Clarke sighs. She steps back and grabs her gun holster from the top of her dresser.

“That’s because you won’t give him a chance.” She says, walking over to the other side of the room, where her boots lay. She grabs them and walks over to the bed. She sits down and starts putting them on.

“Listen, you know i'm supportive of you, and heck if it was anyone else I’d probably be happy, but Murphy isn’t good.” Bellamy says, his voice low. Clarke sighs and gets up.

“Did you know he’s been working with my mother in the med bay?” Clarke asks, going to the little bathroom that is connected to their room. Bellamy gets up and followers her into it, watching as she grabs her toothbrush. “Or that he’s been helping Monty at the gardens? Or that he’s been helping Miller and Brian get along? Or that he’s been-”

“Okay, okay I get it.” Bellamy says, grabbing his toothbrush as well, pushing Clarke slightly to the side. Clarke grabs the toothpaste, and Bellamy takes it from her hand before she can use it. She glares up at him through the mirror and Bellamy hides a smile.

“Do you really? Because he’s not bad. He’s misunderstood.” Clarke says, letting Bellamy give her back the toothpaste. Bellamy Sighs and starts brushing.

Bellamy brushes for a second, before pulling out the tooth brush and spitting into the sink “Listen, he killed two kids.” Bellamy says, and Clarke raises an eyebrow.

“Okay? And we killed all of the mountain men.” Clarke says, putting her tooth brush in. Bellamy sighs.

“That’s different. We did it for an actual reason.” Bellamy says, going to brush his teeth more. Clarke spits out some toothpaste and sighs exasperated.

“He had his own reasons too!” Clarke says, grabbing the cup next to the sink and putting water in it. She takes some into her mouth and spits out the rest of the toothpaste. She always brushes way faster than him, he hates it because it gives her more time to talk during these morning discussions they regularly have.

“Yeah, like revenge. How is that anything similar to why we did what we did?” Bellamy asks, now spitting out his toothpaste again. He grabs the cup and rinses out his mouth, before following Clarke out of the bathroom.

“He did it to save himself. He was scared, Bellamy. Have you even bothered to ask about how he felt?” Clarke asks, grabbing a few more things from her dresser drawer. Bellamy sighs and opens his drawer to grab a few of his own things.

“Listen, I can’t stop you from liking him, Hell, even being with him, but I’m not going to like it. I don’t want anywhere near him.” Bellamy says, and Clarke Grabs his arm before he can walk away.

“Bell, please.” Clarke says softly. Bellamy lets her grab his hand and She looks up into his eyes. “Please, Bell. I want this to work. I want you and him to get along.” She says.

“That’s never going to happen.” Bellamy says, taking his hand away.

“At least try. Come to lunch with us today.” Clarek says, and Bellamy sighs. He looks to the ground and then back up at Clarke, her eyes wide and begging. He feels his stubborn-ness give and he sighs softly.

“Okay, fine, I’ll have lunch with you, two.” Bellamy says, and Clarke smiles widely. She jumps forward and kisses him softly, and Bellamy smiles into the kiss.

“Thank you, Bell.” Clarke says, her voice filled with love.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

During the day, Before Clarke went in to get her job done, she stopped by to tell Murphy about everything. Murphy wasn’t surprised that Bellamy didn’t trust thim, If he was being honest he barely even trusted Bellamy, but for Clarke he’ll try anything. And if that means along the way he and Bellamy get closer, then he might as well try. So, he agreed to join them.

A few hours later, Bellamy and Clarke are sitting at a table in Arkadia’s eating area, they both have their plates, and drinks, and are eating as they talk about the day.

“Murphy should be here by now.” Bellamy says, taking a bit of his food. He brings his head back up and looks at Clarke. Clarke grabs her napkin and brings it up to wipe at a spot on his lip where some food stayed. He smiles softly at her, “Thanks.”

“He’s probably just running a little late.” Clarke says, putting down her napkin and taking a bite herself.

“He probably decided to ditch us.” Bellamy snarks, taking a drink of his water. Clarke sighs and puts down her fork.

“He wouldn’t do that.” Clarke says, looking at Bellamy with a serious expression.

“Ah, right, because the guy who was a juvenile delinquent wouldn’t skip out on lunch.” Bellamy snarks, and then a voice comes from behind them.

“Yeah, uh, sorry. Miller came in with a cut the size of my hand on his side. I had to patch him up.” Clarke looks behind her to see Murphy standing there, looking at Bellamy with a look that tells her this will not be easy. She jumps up and kisses him on the cheek. “Hey.” He says, smiling at her, like she can make his day go from a nightmare, to a daydream. Bellamy gets that. She always cheers him up at the end of the day. Clarke grabs his hand and pulls him over to the table.

“Sorry, we kind of started without you.” Clarke says, sitting in her spot. Murphy sits next to her, on the opposite side of where Bellamy is sitting, and sighs softly, happy to be sitting down for the first time in a few hours.

“It’s fine, Clarke. You didn’t know when I’d get here.” Murphy says, raising his hand so a guy who will come get his order can see him. He always tries to give them extra help whenever he can, when he’s off work he sometimes comes in and works with them.

“Heya Murphy! The usual?” The server asks, and Murphy nods softly. The server walks away, and Murphy looks to Clarke and sighs.

“Hard day?” Clarke asks, genuinely worried.

“Yeah, a lot of people are getting hurt lately.” Murphy says, shrugging as if it’s not too much for him. Honestly, when he agreed to work with Abby, he was happy to do it. It was good for him to feel useful, and to help people. But now it’s too much sometimes. The blood gets sickening sometimes, especially when it stains his hands.

“And you’re worried about how much work you have to do?” Bellamy asks, his eyebrow raised. Clarke glares at him softly and his his leg under the table. Murphy sighs and looks down at the table. “I obviously care about them, Bellamy, or else I wouldn’t be doing it in the first place.” Murphy grounds out, trying to keep his voice calm. Bellamy has no idea what he goes through every day, or how much work he does, or anything like that. He has no right to assume all he cares about is how much time he has to work. As much as Murphy would like to cuss Bellamy out, the warmth coming from Clarke is enough to keep him grounded. He's doing this for her.

“Anyway! How has your day been?” Clarke asks, grabbing Bellamy’s hand. Murphy lets his gaze linger on the touch before smiling softly. He’s happy when Clarke can get love, in any form she does. As much as he is hesitant of Bellamy, he knows Bellamy will take care of her.

“It’s been okay. I’ve had to yell at a few people, keep them in their lane.” Belamy says, taking a bite of his food, that Clarke had forgotten existed. She feels bad eating while Murphy sits there without anything.

“Here, have a bite.” Clark says, pushing her food towards him. Murphy smiles and does as he’s told, knowing that Clarke will probably take his head off if he refuses to eat. Clarke looks around them for a moment before looking back at Bellamy, who is staring at Murphy. She sighs and kicks him under the table and gives him a look. Bellamy makes a face that Clarke knows to mean “What?!?” and Clarke glares at him.

“You guys do this often?” Murphy asks, pointing a finger between them.

“Do what?” Bellamy snaps, before taking a deep breath and calming himself. “Do what?” He asks softer this time.

“Talk with your faces.” Murphy says, a small smirk on his lips. He looks at Clarke and laughs when she blushes.

“Also, Bellamy, can you stop staring at me? I’d appreciate it. I mean, unless you’re appreciating my god given good looks.” Murphy continues and Clarke laughs and bumps into him with her shoulder. Bellamy feels his cheeks heat up despite himself and he looks back at his food, his jaw tight. Murphy sees this and back tracks a bit. “Look, man, I was just joking, sorry.” He says, pushing Clarke’s food away from him, and back to her. He reaches forward and steals Clarke’s water and takes a sip.

“Murphy!” The server says, walking over and giving him his food. Murphy smiles and nods at him.

“Thanks, how about later I help you with that shoulder? You said it's been bothering you.” Murphy says, taking his food and looking at it with excitement. He has always liked food, especially after working in the medbay.

“Really? It’s been really bugging me, it makes me slower to work.” The server says, giving him his cup and pouring water in it.

“Dude, of course. Come by the med bay after your shift.” Murphy says, trying not to think about how busy he already is. He always just keeps adding on.

“Great!” The server says, before walking off. Murphy grabs his fork and starts eating before he notices Clarke is smiling at him.

“What?” Murphy says, a smile on his face.

“I love when you help people.” Clarke says softly. Murphy smiles and feels his cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, yeah, eat it all up.” Murphy jokes, and takes a drink of his own water.

“How much do you work?” Bellamy asks, looking at Murphy. Murphy puts down his cup and messes with his hair.

“Well, I have multiple jobs. Different jobs, different days. I have the medbay, which is what I am doing today, Where I work from 7 am to 8 pm. I have a lunch break between that, as you can see right now, and I have a few other short 10 minute breaks in between.” Murphy starts to explain, and Bellamy puts down his fork to listen better. Clarke smiles, knowing that listening is one of Bellamy’s ways to show he cares. “I work at the gardens with Monty on some days, those days are more laid back. Monty doesn’t expect me to do much. Usually I just water some plants, sometimes I gather stuff. And most other days I just pick up whatever job I can to help. There’s a lot of miscellaneous jobs.” Murphy explains,taking another drink. Bellamy nods, and watching Murphy swallow the water, and he looks down at his plate and clears his throat, embarrassed at himself for watching him like that.

“So you do a lot?” Bellamy asks, and Murphy just nods and eats his food.

They sit in silence for a while, before Murphy looks at his watch and sighs heavily.

“Time to go?” Clarke asks, and Murphy nods, taking the last few bites of his food, and taking the last gulps of his drink. He gets up and stretches. Clarke Gets up and hugs him tight.

“Go save some lives.” Clarke smiles, and pushes at his shoulder. Murphy smirks and grabs his cup and plate.

“You can leave those here, the server will come and grab it.” Bellamy says, looking up at Murphy from his spot.

“Oh, I take it up for them, it makes their lives easier.” Murphy says, smiling. He then kisses Clarke on the cheek, and turns away quickly, feeling Bellamy’s eyes burn a hole in his skull. He knows Bellamy is hesitant about him being with Clarke, and if he is assuming right, he thinks he’s also a bit jealous. He walks up and gives his plate and cup to the people near the food and they smile gratefully at him.

Clarke watches him leave and sighs sadly. She sits back down and smiles at Bellamy.

“I guess it's just us for a little bit.” Clarke says, grabbing Bellamy’s hand. Bellamy squeezes her hand and brings it to his lips kissing it softly.

“Finally.” He mumbles and Clarke sighs and takes her hand away.

“Why are you like this? Why can’t you just try to be nice about him? I care about him Bellamy, and I’m trying to get you two to get along. Murphy is obviously trying. He had less of a problem with this than you did. Why can’t you just try?” Clarke asks, looking at him with sadness in her eyes. Bellamy sighs and sits back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“He’s a delinquent!” Bellamy says, gesturing towards the place where Murphy had left from. Clarke shakes her head and sighs, she gets up and grabs her plate and cup.

“I think you forget that I was too.” Clarke says, before walking off. Bellamy watches her leave, and thinks about things for a minute.

She’s right, he knows she is. It’s not right of him to give every other delinquent a chance but then not give Murphy one. It’s just hard for him. He cares a lot about Clarke,and he doesn’t want her to get hurt, and he doesn’t trust Murphy. And now, in his anger towards Murphy, he has hurt Clarke. He shakes his head and gets up, leaving his plate and cup on the table.

Two weeks later, after Bellamy being invited to lunches and enjoying his time more than he’d like to admit, he caves. He goes to Murphy’s room, and knocks on the door, waiting for Murphy to open the door.

Murphy opens the door, his chest bare and his hair a mess, Bellamy notices he looks tired. Bellamy accident stares too long at Murphy’s chest, looking at all of the scars there, and Murphy notices, and Looks down at himself before his eyes widen and his cheeks flush and he closes the door. Bellamy is about to leave after blowing it, before the door opens again, and reveals Murphy, who threw on a shirt.

“Uh, sorry I just-”

“What do you want?” Murphy cuts him off, not wanting to have a conversation about his scars. It’s already something he hates about himself, he doesn’t need anyone to bring them up after staring at them.

“I just- Okay, I know we don’t get along that much, mostly because of myself, but still, and I was wondering if you’d like to… I don’t know, hang out or something? Just the two of us” Bellamy asks, and Murphy’s eyes widen and his lip quirks up in a small smile. “Maybe we could go outside the gates, or maybe sit by the fire and have a drink, or something.” Bellamy continues and Murphy nods.

“Sure, I’d be happy to.” Murphy says, no sarcasm coming from his lips. Bellamy is surprised but smiles.

“Cool! Cool, uh, do you want to meet up, or should I come here at a certain time, or?” Bellamy asks and Murphy smiles.

“Uh, can we do it tomorrow, today’s kind of… Not the best day.” Murphy says, and Bellamy feels his heart drop, realizing he’s probably just trying to get out of it.

“We don’t have to do it at all if you don’t want to, all you have to do is say no.” Bellamy says,his voice slightly defensive. Murphy’s eyes drop in confusion and he shakes his head.

“No, No, I want to I just-”

“Whatever, it’s obvious you don’t want to, I’ll just go.” Bellamy says, before walking away. By the time Murphy cna open his mouth again to say something, he’s already down the hall and Murphy sighs sadly. Murphy closes the door and plops down on the bed. He takes off his shirt, and lays back down, covering himself up before letting out a long breath as his sore back hit the mattress. Yesterday had been bad, he had accidentally pulled something in his back, and he had refused to do anything about it until he broke down crying while helping Monty in the Garden. Monty had taken him to Abby, and Abby had told him he had to take today off, and stay in bed. That’s why he didn’t want to go out with Bellamy tonight. He sighs and tries to get himself to sleep again, even though the pain in his back is still pulling at him. He groans and wipes a hand over his face, realizing that this probably ruined any chance he had at Bellamy getting closer to him.

“Great.” Murphy says to the open, and empty air around him. Hopefully Bellamy doesn’t tell Clarke about this.

Bellamy walks into his and Clarke’s shared bedroom, storming over to the dresser and throwing off his jacket. He throws the jacket over a chair, and strips his holster off.

“Murphy doesn’t want to go out with me.” Bellamy says to Clarke, who just watched him storm in. Clarke raises an eyebrow at him.

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks, closing her book and putting it on the bedside stand. Bellamy huffs and slips off his shoes.

“I asked him to go out, so we could bond, and He doesn’t want to!” Bellamy says exasperatedly. He sighs sadly and Plops down on his side of the bed, turning away from Clarke. Clarke sighs softly and sits behind him, bringing her hands up to massage at his shoulders.

“Are you sure he doesn’t want to?” Clarke asks, and Bellamy looks down at his hands.

“He said he didn’t want to tonight.” Bellamy says softly. He wouldn’t admit it to Murphy, but he was hurt. He wanted this to go well. He wants to be closer to Murphy, and not just for Clarke.

“Well how do you know it doesn’t just mean tonight?” Clarke asks.

“Because why wouldn’t he be able to tonight? What’s stopping him from going out with me tonight? He had today off, tonight too, That’s why I asked him, and we’ve been getting closer the past two weeks!” Bellamy says, his tone harsh. He doesn’t want to be mean about this, but His feelings are hurt. He really doesn’t understand why Murphy wouldn’t want to go out with him. Clarke and said he was willing to try with him, and now he just decided not to be?

“I don’t know, but don’t just assume he doesn’t want to. I know Murphy, he’s been talking about you for a while now. He wants to be close to you.” Clarke says, trying to reassure Bellamy. Bellamy shrugs and sighs.

“I’m just tired, I should just sleep.” Bellamy says, and Clarke nods, letting him lay down. Clarke lays next to him, and pulls him so his head is on her chest. He sighs softly and smiles.

“Night Princess.”

In the morning, Murphy wakes up, and he still feels a dull ache in his back. He grabs the pain pills and takes them, not bothering to grab water. He slips his boots on, and thinks about Bellamy. He wants to be with Bellamy too. He wants their relationship to be good, and he’s scared he may have ruined it all last night. He sighs sadly and slips on a new shirt and pants. Today he will go to Bellamy and explain everything, even if it makes him late for work. Abby will probably just think it’s because of his back or something.

Murphy opens his door, and walks out of it, and starts walking to the guard’s building. He knows Bellamy works today, and he knows he has probably already started. He sighs and starts to walk faster, in his haste he almost runs into someone and apologizes over his shoulder.

He makes it to the guards building and just walks in, not caring about policy. He’s been practicing what he was going to say, and at this point he thinks it’s just better to be straight forward and just say exactly what he wants to. He sees Bellamy across the room and walks straight over, not caring about the people staring at him. Bellamy looks up and quickly sits up seeing Murphy there.

“I pulled my back yesterday, so I couldn’t go out with you. But I can tonight. 8 pm? Come to my room? sit by the fire and have that drink you were talking about.” Murphy rushes out, and Bellamy laughs softly.

“So I just... Completely misunderstood you?” Bellamy asks and Murphy nods. “Yup. Anyways, I’m going to be late for work, So I’ve got to go, but pick me up at 8, huh?” Murphy says, and Bellamy smiles.

“Yeah, sure Murphy, I’d love to.” Bellamy says, and Murphy node awkwardly, before turning around and walking away. Bellamy smiles to himself and Gets ready for the day. He can’t wait for tonight.

10 hours later, after a boring and uneventful day at work, Bellamy is ready to have some fun. He goes to his room, and does something with his hair that nobody understands. Everyone assumes he does something to it, but all he does is put some water on his hands and fluff around his hair a bit. He grabs a nice shirt, Not something too nice, since he doesn’t have that luxury, but something that doesn’t look horrible. He freshens up quickly, splashing his face with water changes into his new clothes he picked out. He smiles at himself in the mirror, and he quickly realizes that he’s excited. He’s excited to go out with Murphy, and he’s not sure if he wants to analyze that fact or not.

He quickly gives Clarke a peck on the lips and runs out their door, realizing he’s late. It’s his first date-but-is-it-really with Murphy, and he’s already late. He quickly, but not quickly enough to make it obvious that he;s rushed, goes down the many halls to Murphy’s room. When he gets there, he’s surprised to see Murphy just entering his room.

“Oh sh-” Murphy cuts himself off, dropping his key. He sighs and picks it up. “Sorry! Someone came in with a huge migraine and couldn’t do anything until they got meds, and I was the one who had to search through the bottles to find something this guy wasn’t allergic to. Seriously, I don’t even understand how he’s still alive on Earth, He’s allergic to almost everything.” Murphy says, laughing softly. Bellamy feels himself smile and finds the story sweet. The Murphy he used to know would never spend his time doing that for someone.

“That’s nice of you.” Bellamy says, and Murphy looks up at him with a smile.

“Yeah, I mean I’m happy to do it, He’s a good guy.” Murphy says, walking into his room which he just now got open. Murphy calls out to him from the inside, “You can come in! It’s kind of a mess, but It’s not too bad.” Bellamy hesitantly walks to the doorway and looks into the room, tilting his head. The room isn't as bad as Murphy made it out to be, but it still wasn't clean either. There are clothes strung about the room, and it looks like the bed was just rolled out of. looks into the room, tilting his head. The room isn't as bad as Murphy made it out to be, but it still wasn't clean either. There are clothes strung about the room, and it looks like the bed was just rolled out of.

“It’s not too bad.” Bellamy observes, watching as Murphy goes to his dresser and quickly grabs out clothes. Murphy picks out his outfit, and walks to the bathroom.

“I’m going to change, go ahead and sit on the end I guess.” Murphy says, shrugging. He smiles and walks into the bathroom, quickly getting ready. Bellamy finds himself standing in the middle of the room; he looks at the things on Murphy’s bedside table and smiles. He grabs the book there, reading the title. He sees that it’s Lord Of The Rings, he smiles and tries to remember the plot. He knows it has to do with a ring, an unlikely hero, and a quest with friends, but he’s not sure what happens during it. He opens the book, and looks at the bookmark. It’s a picture of a young man and woman, and a young boy is next to them. It looks like the woman’s face was once crossed out with a marker, but the marker has been scratched at, and he frowns at it. He picks up the picture and flips it over and the back says ‘The Murphy’s’ and he feels his heart break. He hears the door open behind him and he jumps, almost dropping the book and losing Murphy’s spot before catching himself. Murphy freezes when he sees what he’s doing, and winces slightly.

“I said you could sit on the bed, not look through my things.” He half jokes, walking forward and taking the book and picture from his hands and puts the picture back how it was. He puts the book down and turns to the dresser, grabbing his knife from it’s spot. When he made it to Arkadia, he made a new one, since his old one had disappeared in the chaos. He puts the knife in it’s sput on his belt, and turns to Bellamy.

“I’m sorry, I just… I like books, and I wanted to see what you were reading.” Bellamy says, “And then… that kind of turned into me looking at your bookmark.” Bellamy says, his voice dropping. Murphy shrugs.

“Oh well, It’s not like people don’t know I had a family, Bell.” Murphy says, and starts to walk out the door. “Now come on, you have a drink you owe me.” Murphy says, a smile pulling at his features. Bellamy shakes his head and laughs following him out the door. Murphy pulls it shut, and makes sure it’s locked before they walk towards the firepits.

They make it to the fire pits, and Murphy sits down on one of the logs surrounding it. And looks up at Bellamy.

“Drink?” He asks, and Bellamy nods.

“I’ll get you a drink, relax, sit back and watch the fire or something.” Bellamy says, turning around and heading to where Monty is serving his moonshine. Murphy sighs softly and looks up at the sky instead, feeling the cold air go against his face. He hears Bellamy come back, and he opens his eyes to see Bellamy with two cups in his hands.

“Oh thank God, I need a drink.” Murphy says, reaching out. Bellamy chuckles and hands it to him; he sits down and watches as Murphy takes a drink. The moonlight and the fire both create a glow to Murphy, a glow that would be described as magical in the books he read as a kid. He can’t help to think of Murphy as magical in this moment. A kid who grows up with everyone against him, yet now he’s helping everyone by being a doctor?

“I’ve heard you’re a good doctor.” Bellamy says, watching Murphy as he looks at him with happiness.

“Yeah?” Murphy asks, his mouth upturned in a large smile.

“Yeah, I’ve been asking people about you recently…” Bellamy says, before he can stop himself, he sighs realizing how embarrassing that is. “Sorry, I just… After Clarke told me about you, I was very hesitant, and I wanted to know more about you.” Bellamy says.

“Yeah, I know… I’m not the best guy in the world.” Murphy says, looking at the fire in front of him. The flames light up his face, and Bellamy can’t help but think he’s beautiful. He doesn’t know when his thoughts about Murphy went from annoyed, to thinking he’s beautiful. Maybe it was the way Clarke has been talking about him, and explaining why she liked him the way she does.

“You aren’t the worst, either.” Bellamy admits, and Murphy feels himself smile wider.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m good enough.” Murphy says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Bellamy frowns and shakes his head, moving closer to Murphy’s side. Their thighs rub next to each other, and their shoulders bump.

“I-” Bellamy hesitates before speaking, “Look, I’m just overprotective. I worry about Clarke. I don’t want her being with someone who will hurt her. I would be worried no matter who it was, but because of our…” He trails off and gestures vaguely, “History, I’m a bit more hesitant with you.”

"I think I love her, Bell.” Murphy says, confidence in his voice. There’s no ‘think’ to it. He knows he loves her. He closes his eyes and pictures how her lips feel on his cheek, and how the feeling of her hand in his makes him feel. He can picture her smile while he’s alone, and it always cheers him up. It always keeps him going. Bellamy nods and takes a drink from his moonshine, feeling the liquid burn hsi throat slightly. Murphy’s is almost gone already, it’s obvious he’s had a hard time recently.

“I love her, too.” Bellamy says, and Murphy laughs softly. They sit there for a few minutes before Murphy randomly starts talking. Bellamy figures out quickly that he’s just randomly speaking about everything. The color of the sky, the way the trees move, it’s all subjects of Murphy’s rambling and Bellamy finds it endearing.

“Do you ever think of life up there? Do you miss it?” Bellamy asks randomly, interrupting Murphy from his rant about the chancellor. Murphy pauses for a moment, not sure how to answer.

“I think about it, but I don’t miss it. I hated it up there.” Murphy says, and Bellamy looks at him puzzled.

“After everything that’s happened to you down here, you still like it more than up there? Why?” Bellamy asks, and Murphy looks up.

“Up there, it was… Suffocating. I couldn’t get away from anything. I couldn’t get away from the people, the guards, the chancellor, the memories, they were all there. When I walked down the hall to school every day I’d see the airlock chamber and remember my dad dying for me. When I’d look at any door of any room, I’d remember running through the door to find my mom, dying on the floor. I-” He breaks himself off and he sighs. “I hate tight spaces. Always have, and That thing up there? That was the tightest spot. I hate not having control over myself, but up there every single thing I did was stared at and picked at. I was forced to be something I’m not.” Murphy rants, and Bellamy listens, putting a hand on his thigh to calm him down. He had started yelling, and that gained the attention for a few other people.

“And Here? What’s good about here?” Bellamy asks, wanting to know how Murphy feels.

“I’m free. I’m able to eat when I’m hungry, and I’m able to work a good job! I’m able to help people here, when up there I was useless. Down here there’s a possibility for so much more! I can have two kids if I’d want to, and It’ll be okay! I can get medicine for myself when I’m hurt or sick, and I can live.” Murphy says, and Bellamy nods. “My dad… He dreamed of this place. He dreamed of being able to Touch the ground, to touch the leaves… And If this is where he always wanted to be, then obviously it;s better than that piece of junk that used to be in the sky. Up there I wanted to be a doctor, but I wasn’t smart enough. I never was. Here, Abby gave me a chance, and Now I get to save people. You want to know the real, 100% reason all of this is worth it?” Murphy asks, and Bellamy nods. “Clarke… I would have never met Clarke. I would have never met her and gotten this close to her. I would have never met you...” Murphy finishes, and by the time he’s done he’s looking at Bellamy with such a wild look in his eyes.

Bellamy doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, or why he feels so connected to Murphy in this moment, but before he can stop himself he’s surging forward, and connecting their lips. Bellamy grab’s Murphy’s arms and Moves him so he’s facing him, and stradling the log they’re on. Murphy wraps his arms around Bellamy’s neck,and lets him pull him as close as possible, not worrying about the world around them. Murphy pulls back his breath heavy and a huge smile on his face.

“What was that for?” Murphy asks, a wide smile on his face. Bellamy rests his forehead on Murphy’s, and takes a deep breath. He’s not sure how to explain it. He doesn’t know what made him do that, what made him make the choice to kiss the guy he has hated for so long, but recently he just… Hasn’t hated him. The way Murphy has proven himself to be good, the way he cares so deeply for Clarke that everything he has gone through has been worth it, just to meet and fall for her, it all hits him way too hard. And the fact Murphy includes him in that, Murphy includes him in the good he has found on this nightmare of a planet, and Bellamy feels happier about that than he has felt about anything ever.

“Was meeting me really worth the pain?” Bellamy asks, suddenly questioning it. Murphy pulls back a bit and nods.

“Of course. I mean yeah, we haven’t gotten along much in the past, but for the past two weeks, we’ve been getting closer. That’s why you asked me to come, right? Because we’ve been closer?” Murphy asks, and Bellamy smiles.

“Yeah I just… I didn't think I meant that much to you, I thought I was just… Clarke’s boyfriend to you.” Bellamy says, and Murphy cups hsi cheek.

“You could never be ‘just’ anything, Bellamy.” Murphy says, leaning forward and connecting their lips once more. Bellamy pulls back for a second and looks into Murphy’s eyes.

“Come on.” He says, and gets up, pulling himself away from Murphy. Murphy looks up at him in confusion.

“What? Where are we going.” Murphy asks, confused. Bellamy smirks down at him.

“I think Clarke and I have room for one more.” Bellamy says, changing his smirk to a small smile. He puts out his hand and Murphy looks at him in shock before smiling widely. He takes Bellamy’s hand.

67 notes · View notes

berryberryrad · 3 years

Text

𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙖𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩⚡️

shino aburame, sfw alphabet prompt

if this comes across as ooc, literally hit me pls. I’m usually kiba biased, but something about shino has just been hitting different recently.

warnings: blatant abuse of grammar and punctuation. cursing. i’m no writer, i just tell it like i see it. I wrote this on mobile and am not a tech guru so I wish I could do the fancy little, “keep reading,” bit but I’m

word count, 3983

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

we’ve all come to the generalized conclusion that the aburame clan aren’t handsy. shino falls in line with this, and pda or even private interactions that involve skin to skin contact aren’t going to be his forte. I can see him holding hands, or the aspect of interlocking pinkies with this boy while you’re both reading or walking throughout the woods just has me weak in my knees. a more common way shino would express himself by ways of affection would be listening; absorbing every word you have to give and then offering up the information he’s collected later to show that he does hang onto your every word. he does so subtly, remembering things that you mentioned favoring seemingly offhandedly but in reality he wants you to feel as seen as you make him feel. someone give him a kind smile right now

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

shino’s so quick to throw around the, “I’m not sure I have any friends,” card when kiba inuzuka literally exists— the audacity of this man. team 8? the bond the three of them have outdoes friendship. the loyalty. the camaraderie. the attitude. i get whiplash from their personalities interacting, and i love every minute of it. the bluntness of shino can come across as rude disposition, however it all comes a place of well intent. he speaks his mind, and he speaks the truth. all of it. having shino aburame as a friend would mean you could easily find calm grounds to stand upon. he’d offer words of harsh wisdom, whether you ask for them or not. he sees the best in people even behind his quiet demeanor, and has loyalty oozing out of him. good boy, 10/10 wanna be his best friend.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

can i be self-indulgent for .6 seconds: imagine how w a r m shino is. it had to be said.

anyways, aburame clan: not particularly touchy. we talked about this. however there would come times where shino would hold your hand. it was a practice you initiated, and he quickly caught onto. when you walk through the forest together, he’ll send his bugs out to take a quick peek around before interlocking your fingers silently. he’ll be nervous the first time, but eventually is confident enough to make the move without any plaguing hesitation.

I could go on and on about hand holding because I’m a simple girl, but we gotta get to the goods.

cuddling? with shino aburame? a prize that I want to win. you. bug boy. sitting side by side, chatting about slice of life oddities— you put your head on his shoulder. okay little baddie, we see you: he very carefully presses his head onto the top of yours. shoulder to shoulder, his cheek resting in your hair. you never stop talking about your day, and he never stops you. it feels so natural and easy. c o z y. I’m soft.

you don’t spoon, you want to see his face when he lights up with facts about entomology. when you reach that state in your relationship, you lay side by side and play with his fingers, or he draws lazy patterns on your wrist.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he’d love to settle down wtf. he’d want to keep a romantic partner close, but even platonically— shino’s in it for the long haul.

he may be bug boy, but he’s also a clean boy. right? like okay his hair may be a bit unkept, and his room is definitely littered with sketches of insects and books here and there. but they’re organized in a way that makes sense to him. he can immediately find whatever he needs whenever he needs it, and that doesn’t make him unclean. when it comes to his insects, he keeps them tucked away with precision. each is labeled and jarred away probably alphabetically, idk, that just feels right to me.

cooking is something that can be accomplished in theory. a recipe can be read and executed, but that’s as far as it goes with shino. don’t expect much creative flare, the aburames are known bug enthusiasts, not ramen curators. the most spontaneity you can hope for is perhaps a pinch of salt on your eggs in the morning. if it’s not in the recipe, it’s not happening. he’s a boy of many talents, cooking is barely one of them.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

i don’t even wanna entertain shino breaking my heart—

good thing he’s breaking yours

shino wouldn’t let a platonic relationship go far enough into a romantic status unless he was without a doubt that you were someone he could trust and hold close to his person. honestly I’d say you’d have to be the one to break up with him if you managed to get far enough in. but if he had to break up with you? he’d have the briefest moment of hurt before setting it out all on the table. once his mind is made up, it’s over. he’s not one to dance around the point. you probably won’t even have to ask why. he’ll tell you without prompting.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

oh shino has no problem committing his life to you, after you’ve been together for a very long time that is. marriage isn’t the forthcoming thought pressing into his conscious. it’d be something you had to mention in passing to him to let him know you were interested. to shino, he recognizes your relationship as it is: a relationship. your partners for better or worse, he doesn’t think a marriage certificate has any true significance in the way you share feelings for one another.

but you’d like a wedding? okay, no qualms. he’d want to wait a few years, and the atmosphere of the village would to have to fair calm, but he wouldn’t mind a small ceremony. when he tilts your head back and kisses you to seal the deal, kiba faints.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

sorry I was just checking the time, seems to me like it’s, “soft boy hours.”

I want you to know right now that shino aburame hangs onto every word you say with such fervor, it’s just darling okay? emotionally, when you’ve established that you plan on playing an active role in his life, he’s so doting. asks you short and simple questions about your day. offers advice on your woes. let’s you interact with his bugs— because he trusts you. and you better offer him the same love and respect back. I have this whole thing about him receiving cheek kisses. he eats that shit up okay, but silently with a blush crawling up his neck and wrapping around his ears. pinky holding— hullo. that’s the gentlest thing homies can do.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

maybe he hugs you first. that’s wild, but it keeps you on your toes. you held his hand first, yes, but that night when he accompanies you home you stand nearly toe to toe. you haven’t released hands yet, and he’s overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude to someone who has lent an ear to him with no ulterior motives other than quality time. it’s strangely second nature to him as he wraps a fast arm around your waist, crushing your held hands between your bodies. you’re taken aback, obviously, but before you can even share a proper moment in the same space he’s retreating back into his stoic persona and wishing you a good night.

shino hugs with his whole body, and my favorite version of this would be him wrapping his arms around your shoulders as your crushed into his shoulder. love it. he doesn’t hug often, cherish the ones he shares with you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

shino, ever the one to speak his mind, let’s you know he loves you immediately when it occurs to him. I’m not quite sure when this is, but you’ve been apart of his life for a long time without a doubt. you make him feel safe, seen, and he is sure he can trust you. you probably ask him a question about like the process through which butterflies migrate or whatever, I’m not clever enough to think of insect related questions, but after he gets done explaining and you’ve got this thoughtful expression on your face he just blatantly says it. it’s so matter of fact and without any doubt that you have to blink for a moment before sharing the sentiment. it’s not awkward. there’s not any fanfare or roses involved. it’s the truth, and you’re both quietly over the moon about it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

shino and jealousy don’t necessarily exist in the same realm. he’s not going to entertain someone he can’t trust, that’s just a given. and if he did have any doubt in his mind you were pursuing something romantic from another, he’d simply send one of his bugs to investigate the situation. if it proved to be true, he’d confront you on it. if he’s misunderstood the circumstances then he can admit it, but if he hasn’t then he’ll make it apparent to you very quickly he doesn’t appreciate what you’ve been doing.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

soft, goodnight.

okay so like forehead kisses, right? forehead kisses by shino>>>>

i will die on this hill, don’t test me.

shino kisses softly and with purpose, there is nothing he does without meaning. it’s a press of his lips to your forehead before leaving for a mission, it’s brushing your lips together in the moonlight, it’s pushing the pads of your fingers against his mouth when you’re upset. I’m a hopeless romantic and there’s only so many euphemism for kissing, so take what you’re given. shino isn’t experienced in tonsil surfing, so you’ll have to bear with him. it’s something that relies less on textbook skill and moreover on feeling and primal intuition, something he does have so he’s not completely clueless. like i said, forehead kisses are a go to and idk if I’ve mentioned you giving shino cheek kisses but for the love of god, please opt to. he eats that shit up, you gotta.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

kurenai herself made note of how well shino interacts with kids, and I have never known kurenai to be wrong so it’s been decided. shino? amazing with kids. the scene between him and mirai? shino giving a piggy back ride? goodnight y’all, imma clock out.

and he eventually becomes sensei badass okay, like he can handle himself amongst a child or two. as far as having his own children I think he’d do well with one. shibi and shino share the classic aburame relationship: mutual understanding and appreciation of one another’s existence, and i can see him sharing that with his own child and then some. he spent the better part of his own childhood in solitude. it was in tandem sought out and forced upon him. big boy perks. he’d want his child to not only embrace their aburame side, bugs and all— but also to feel confident and extroverted enough to branch out and make interpersonal relationships

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

imagine being a morning person. I mean shino doesn’t have to, but it couldn’t be me. shino’s up before dawn breaks, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pressing his glasses into his nose before he even opens his eyes. rise and shine. if you’ve been sleeping beside him, he’ll cast a long look you’re way, admiring your still figure before standing and beginning his day quietly so as not to wake you. he lets you sleep as long as you wish unless you instruct otherwise. sometimes you ask him to wake you when he wakes himself. you always regret it because why the fuck is he awake, the crickets are still outside doing god knows what. he thinks the ambiance of an early morning is peaceful, and it sets his person in ease.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

can we all just take a moment to appreciate the grand outdoors and how precious it would be to have shino watching you fondly ogle at fireflies in the middle of a field. like arms crossed with a gentle smile behind his collar as you open mouth grin and point because he absolutely asks them to do something impressive just to see you in awe.

nights are spent outside staring up at the sky. in a tree? on the ground? in the park? in the middle of the woods? who cares, time with shino is time well spent.

if it’s raining then that’s tough, I guess y’all will just have to have a night in. sometimes you play shogi, and you don’t complain when he lets you win despite you showing no true skill for the game. he doesn’t mind.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

oh shino won’t reveal anything haha. well not on purpose. see I know I’ve gone on and on about shino being so attuned to you and what you have to say, but you have to show him equal attention and devotion to get a good read of him. anything personal that can be taken from him is conveyed so subtly you’ll miss it if you’re not paying attention. he’ll answer any question you ask, however if you get too personal too fast he’ll slyly avoid the question

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

not easily angered, moreover easily annoyed. while shino may not be on shikamaru’s level of strategical advances, he does have a pretty good sense of how things should be completed. it’s usually the way that benefits the most people and accomplishes the goal with as little room for error as possible. when things stray off from the how he envisioned them, I see him getting a little irritated. I think the time he’s spent with kiba has aided in this conclusion, and he isn’t as easily moved to a pissy nature as he once was, but I think the sullen nature still translates across if things fail to go his way because in his mind, it’s the most logical path.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

broken record alert: he’s a good listener. it’s both a strategic move to manipulate situations because he’s become so good at reading people, and his own unique love language. it’s the juxtaposition of words of affirmation; he shows he cares by ways of empathy and action. it’s stoic empathy, but empathy nonetheless. he remembers everything you tell him, and everything you don’t. on missions when you two are parted, his thoughts are sometimes clouded with images of the way your mouth arches when you laugh, or the soft smell of you lingering on his coat after you hugged him goodbye.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

when you let him go on and on about his insects and you seem genuinely interested. so often do people put up with shino’s knack for bugs out of politeness or to just let him fill the silence— but you ask questions. you seem intrigued with any word that falls from his lips and you’re quick to quip back with facts you’ve dug up on your own. you’re curious about what shino is so attuned with, and he is so excited to have someone to educate who wants to learn. you’ll go on small adventures to locate bugs to breed or to simply watch, and it’s at these moments when you’re both silent and poised over a poisonous beetle with a respective jar and net that he remembers fondly when you’re both parted.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

well he’s already sworn to protect the village, so initially it’s on that basis. his duty is to do whatever he can to keep the residents of the hidden leaf secure, but with you he keeps a bit more of a watchful eye available. he isn’t paranoid or overly protective, however on days his mind is uneasy, shino has no qualms sending a beatle to hover your person. it’s just a security measure, nothing to write home about.

you keep shino protected from his inner turmoils. hinata and kiba can only reassure him so much, but shino has developed the habit of writing them off. they’re just his teammates, they have to put up with him. however you have no personal ties to him really. you stick around on your own accord, and this boosts his self esteem immensely. you put his mind at ease and make note to remind him daily that the members of team eight are an excellent unit and that he needs to give kiba and hinata more credit because they both care about him as well. akamaru too, woof woof dummy. accept the love.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

shino’s not a man of many words, and when he does spit fire, it’s calculated and can come across as blunt assertion. you’ll come to put up with it, but he can come to understand he can be a bit overbearing in this aspect. so as I’ve expressed, words of affirmation aren’t his love language (though don’t put it past him to whisper sweetness into your ear when you’re both alone: that would be lovely.)

he expresses himself through gifts, awe. shino won’t present you with precious jewels or money as means of affection. no, the gifts are moreover practical. a book you had been pining after, a scarf to keep you warm in the upcoming months, things of that nature. he also collects rocks, we can collectively agree on that as a community right? he’ll share them with you, encouraging you to begin your own arsenal of rocks that entertain no one but are a sweet gesture— thanks shino.

dates are long walks when he as spare time. he doesn’t mind if they’re silent or if you fill the space with your own daily narrative. you’ll both trade useless dialogue and he likes it. it’s a sense of normalcy for him.

he doesn’t try particularly hard in any sense, but he doesn’t need to. time spent with shino is delightfully casual in both of your lives, please don’t mind it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

what if shino picks his nails, awe.

he’s a wonderful, brilliant little creature: but he has a habit of writing off people who clearly care about him. you’ve gotta take a little energy into reassuring him from time to time. he won’t outwardly mope in this mentality, but sometimes he seems a little off and it will fall on your shoulders to assist him

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

mans only lets like 3% of his face be shown for the better part of the series and then decided that a visor and top knot were gonna be his debut look in boruto, he is n o t the one to look to for fashion advice, and this is coming from someone who simps so hard for shino aburame like he’s lowkey giving kiba a run for his money at this point but like come on

as far as his s/o goes i know the prompt didn’t ask but he doesn’t mind what his s/o particularly looks like. it’s a personality game baby, let’s go

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

shino’s written as a loner, and he doesn’t particularly mind that status but a friend every now and then is never unwelcome. he deserves to be appreciated, and while he may not outwardly show that he receives the appreciation in good spirits, you can rest assured he does. having a partner would be pleasant, no doubt, and he would love having someone by his side to call a best friend (and eventual partner) however shino’s existence isn’t completely codependent on another half. he can exist on his own with just the company of his bugs with no true remorse. he does feel lonely at times, but he’s got the squad of the hidden leaf backing him up. he’ll make it through

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

blush bug boy shino = a happy bee (‘s me, I’m bee)

the headcannons where stoic blunt hardass shino is an inexperienced nervous boy eat me alive. man’s is a shinobi who has faced peril and nearly suffocates when you hold his hand for the first time? imma head out, i love it

he’s also always early to things? yes please? early is on time, on time is late, and late means call an ambulance, something super not cool has gone down

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

if you don’t like bugs, you have to evacuate the dancefloor. I’m not saying you have to be the president of the, “insects are the superior race,” committee. to enjoy something and appreciate something from a distance both can weigh evenly on a scale in this instance. if you’re a bug enthusiast, kudos. he’ll love spending time showing off his collection to you with a slightest hint of pride coloring his tone. if you’re the type of person to be afraid of insects, he can deal with that as well. most people are, and he recognizes it comes from misunderstanding. if you are willing to give the bugs a chance and overcome your phobia, you’ve won him over.

wouldn’t like an over the top ditzy person. he needs you to have some sense of self preservation and common sense. shino does not put up with tom foolery and he would make that apparent to you very quickly.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

can I head cannon that he just becomes unhinged in his sleep? can we get behind that? like shino may begin the night tucked in with his hands clasped over his abdomen, but that is n o t how he finds himself in the morning. as a shinobi, he’s a light sleeper. fair play. but light sleepers toss and turn too, and I like to imagine him waking up discombobulated. face down, open pressed into his pillow, arms doing what they will, hair in disarray. magnificent. a pen drops and he wakes immediately, and is up before you can truly assess what you’ve just seen of the normally so put together aburame.

he knows he’s an active sleeper, ‘s why he gets up at 4am. that’s his business

#shino #shino aburame #shino x reader #shino headcanons #naruto headcanons #naruto #sfw #sfw alphabet #reader insert #naruto fandom #naruto shippuden

79 notes · View notes

cavalierious-whim · 3 years

Text

Love, Misunderstood (FE3H)

Sylvix | Modern AU | Fake Dating | Teen So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

----

A/N: I wrote this for the Sylvix Server's Secret Santa Event last year. Read here on AO3 for better quality! And follow me on Twitter here! @Satodee1 on Twitter drew an AMAZING fanart for this fic as well! I cannot believe I've been blessed so. Please take a look here and give them a follow!

----

Let go the fear of falling in love.

So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

One, there isn’t time. By day he’s almost a professional athlete with dozens of fencing titles to his name, and by night he’s a business student double majoring in Marketing and Finance. His days are full of workouts and conditioning, a carefully maintained diet, and when the sport isn’t on his mind, his academics are.

Two, there’s no interest. None. Whatsoever. Felix has never once looked at another person and thought, Yes, I would like that one.

Which brings him to his current problem: there’s an annoyance in his face that some might think is pretty if they liked overly bleached hair and heavily lacquered nails. Gum pops in her mouth. She twirls a long tendril of hair around a finger like the love interest from a nineties sitcom.

Felix doesn’t just hate; he loathes and despises. Less so the girl and more so at being perceived as a romantic option. He feels as though he does a pretty good job selling the fact that he’s entirely off of the market, even going as far as snarling at hopefuls. Apparently, some people are just infuriatingly stubborn.

Or maybe just oblivious. Felix is starting to lean towards the latter, watching carefully as the girl stares back at him, dreamily.

“So, like,” she says, punctuating the words with a giggle, “I’m a big fan. Of you and you know, your fencing.”

Felix is a hundred percent sure that she has no idea what she’s talking about. What he says instead is, “I’m studying.” Neat and simple, and not even mean. Hopefully enough to fend her off. He’s almost proud of himself.

She blinks at him like she’s trying and failing to process what he’s just said. “So, that bout last weekend,” says the girl, relentless in her pursuit. “You really honed in the touches, winning before the time limit.”

This surprises him; maybe his earlier assessment is incorrect and she’s honestly a fencing fan. Felix meets her gaze and she stares back, smacking her gum, hair still wrapped around her finger, and eyes glinting.

Right, no, she’d just done her research.

“Thank you,” says Felix because he’s not entirely an asshole. “But as I said, I’m studying, so if you would--”

“It was truly riveting,” continues the girl, clasping her hands before her. “Your form is just exquisite.” She says the word like he’s a prized pig.

Felix is losing his patience, his fingers tightening around his pencil and squeezing tighter and tighter. It might snap under his grip. It’s happened before.

“Look,” says Felix, his tone hardening just a modicum, “I appreciate--”

“So, how about grabbing a bite to eat together?” asks the girl, batting her eyes at him in an exaggerated flourish.

Felix opens his mouth to say something rather nasty, but he’s interrupted by someone dropping into the chair next to him. “Darling.” An arm finds its way slung around his shoulder and Felix goes rigid. “I’m sorry that I’m late; got stuck in traffic. You know what rush hour is like.”

It takes everything for Felix to not grab the man’s arm and break his wrist.

Before he can do so though, the man looks to the girl and says, “A bite to eat? All of us? Group dates are always fun.”

The girl, to her credit, looks about as flabbergasted as Felix feels. “Um--”

“Unless you meant alone with my boyfriend?”

Felix immediately starts, turning to look at him incredulously. “Boyfriend--”

“My mistake,” the girl apologizes immediately. “I didn’t, um, realize that you… Anyway, thank you for the chat!” And with a wave, the bleached-blonde bimbo takes her leave.

Felix whirls onto the man next to him, immediately shrugging out of his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man is lightly tanned, cheeks dusted with a spattering of warm freckles. His hair is auburn and unruly, curling wildly around his forehead and ears. His smile is crooked, a dimple forming at the left corner of his mouth. Handsome, if Felix likes people. He doesn’t, he reminds himself.

“Saving you,” the man says. “Really, she just wouldn’t let you go. It’s astonishing really, I could feel the leave me the fuck alone vibes radiating off of you from across the shop.”

Felix blinks at that. “I didn’t need help.”

“I think that you did.”

“I didn’t,” repeats Felix, unable to let go of his stubborn need to get the last word in. Glenn used to say that it was the best and worst part of him.

“You could have just told her no.” The man pauses, thumbing at his chin as though he’s amused. “You don’t seem the type to be nice and gently let someone down.”

Felix isn’t; he’s the type to throw books at people instead, and be brutally blunt about what he does and doesn’t want. “I was distracted,” he finally says, “I’m studying for an exam and she just caught me off guard. I promise you, had I been on my game I would have done far worse.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, watching him, and Felix already hates the calculating gaze. “You really go all in, don’t you?” he asks. “Just no fucks given as to what people think about you?”

“I’m not here to date, I’m here to go to school.”

“How boring,” says the man.

“I like boring,” says Felix.

There’s a beat and then, “I’m Sylvain.” Sylvain holds his hand out for a shake. Felix stares at it as though it might bite him, but Sylvain waits patiently. “You owe me at least yours.”

There isn’t a chance in hell that this man doesn’t know who Felix is; his face is plastered across every Garreg Mach University billboard this side of Fodlan. Still, Felix has been raised with manners and he can hear Glenn rolling over in his grave.

Felix hates manners but sucks it up.

“Felix,” he says finally, still ignoring Sylvain’s hand. “Thank you for the help, but I don’t need it. Now leave me alone. I don’t have time to entertain jockstraps like yourself.”

Sylvain eventually puts his hand down and watches Felix for a long moment. Felix doesn’t like the slightly amused grin that seems permanently attached to his face. “Got it,” says Sylvain eventually. He stands and throws his bag back over his shoulder. “Then this jockstrap will take his leave.”

Felix almost feels bad, prompting him to say, “My appreciation is honest. If you hadn’t stepped in I might’ve snapped the girl’s neck instead.” He expects him to run off at such vivid imagery, like so many do.

But instead, Sylvain just throws his head back and laughs, before leaving him be.

“Do you like Adrestian Barbecue?”

This one cuter than the last, pert little nose and wavy locks of brown framing her face nicely. Felix still isn’t remotely interested. “I’m studying,” he says, trying his best to sound at least polite. He’s not very good at it, but the woman pays it no mind.

“This’ll only take a moment,” she says. “I’m wondering if you’d like to go get lunch or something? There’s a great new place that’s just opened up off of Twenty-Fourth Street, and--”

“Babe,” someone cuts in, leaning over Felix’s shoulder, their cheeks barely inches from each other. Sylvain, Felix’s mind supplies before being annoyed that he’d remembered. Felix hadn’t seen him in the shop for a few weeks. Sylvain to his credit doesn’t sling his arm around and immediately drop into the chair without permission, he just hovers next to him. Waiting.

A slight improvement.

“Sylvain,” says Felix. Then pauses, unsure how to continue. He swallows and then, “You’re late.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Traffic.”

Felix huffs, a little emboldened. “That’s the excuse you used last time.”

“And it’s still true,” says Sylvain.

“Um,” says the woman who’s been interrupted. “I was trying to ask--”

“My boyfriend to lunch,” cuts in Sylvain. “Yes, I saw that. I can barely get him to go out with me, what makes you think that he’d have a go with you?”

Felix’s eyes nearly bulge at the aggressive raking. Sylvain seemed like a nice man the last they met, but perhaps Felix has underestimated him. It sounds like a jab straight from Felix’s book.

The woman’s mouth falls open and she gawks but quickly recovers. “Right,” she says. “My apologies, I’d thought-- Never mind that. Have a wonderful day Mr. Fraldarius.”

Felix cringes as she turns and walks away.

“Mr. Fraldarius,” drawls Sylvain, falling into the chair next to him. “I really do have a habit of coming to rescue you.”

“I didn’t need to be rescued,” says Felix, acerbically. “It isn’t my fault that you insist on butting in where you aren’t wanted.”

“So, you wanted to go grab lunch with her?”

Felix closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a frustrated grunt. “Absolutely not.” Sylvain doesn’t say anything, just watches him with unwavering patience. Eventually, Felix says, “Look, I appreciate your willingness to help, but--”

“You know, I could just pretend to be your boyfriend and they’d leave you alone for good.”

Felix blinks and then he scowls. “What?”

Sylvain shrugs, noncommittal. “You study here nearly every day. I study here too. I finally stepped in because you seem to get attention all of the time and it does nothing but annoy you. Seriously, people have no boundaries.”

Felix wants to tell Sylvain that he has no boundaries either, but decides not to fuel the fire. Instead, he says, “There’s no reason for you to help me, you would gain nothing from it.”

“Some peace and quiet. Do you know how hard it is to focus on schoolwork here when women and men are trying to approach you? I come here for the quiet, not to watch the latest episode of Blind Date.”

Sylvain has a point; the people who approach him tend to be rather loud about it. Felix thinks about the proposition for a moment. “No,” he finally says. “You don’t have to study here. Go elsewhere.”

“It’s preferable to my dorm,” says Sylvain, not bothering to elaborate. “And, I think that’s why you study here as well. You hate people and would do anything to avoid them entirely. Even if it means studying in public.”

Felix cringes because Sylvain’s nailed it on the head; the general public is less invasive than Ashe is. His roommate is nice but needlessly curious. “I don’t need your help.”

Sylvain opens his mouth to answer but stops when the barista comes by their table. “Felix,” he says, smiling kindly. “I’ve brought you a refill, yeah?” He drops a take-out cup to the table. “Just let me know if you want more.”

Felix nods, his lips quirking the slightest bit. The boy has always been nice to him and unfussy. “Thank you,” says Felix, genuinely.

The barista leaves and as Felix reaches for the cup, Sylvain raises his eyebrows. Felix’s mood immediately sours. “What?” snaps Felix acerbically.

Sylvain points to the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Felix turns it around to find the barista’s name and number written in curling script. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Felix. But, at least the barista has the decency not to accost him publicly. Felix rubs at his forehead.

“Say that I take you up on your offer,” starts Felix, already wanting to pull them back, “what are you expecting in return?”

“Nothing,” says Sylvain. Felix meets his eyes, narrowing his gaze as he watches him carefully. “Honestly,” continues Sylvain under the scrutiny. “I also like to study in peace, but I don’t like to sit at tables alone. I work better when there’s someone else there, even if it’s not to talk.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” says Felix.

“So is every person on this campus thirsting after your mangy ass. It’s a mystery to me.” Sylvain bites back just as hard as Felix, it seems. Felix respects that, if only slightly.

“Fine,” says Felix. “But only because I’ve got tests coming up and I’m tired of being bothered.”

“It’s a deal then,” says Sylvain. “We study and pretend to be dating, reaping the benefits of a quiet and quaint coffee shop.”

“You’ll have to be convincing,” says Felix.

“So far, it’s worked.”

Sylvain holds his hand out to shake on the deal and Felix looks at it warily. Then, with a resigned sigh, he takes it. Sylvain’s hand is wide and warm, and it makes Felix want to pull away. He hates closeness and doesn’t do well with physical contact. When they part, Sylvain smiles and then finally drops his book bag from his shoulders, settling in.

Felix hopes to the Goddess above that he’s not making a mistake.

Felix wants to hate Sylvain on mere principle, but they fall into an easy companionship. Felix hates it, hates that he doesn’t dislike Sylvain. But, Felix doesn’t quite like him either, and it’s the last thread of hope that he hangs on to.

A week into the charade, Felix is still stunned by the fact that Sylvain actually studies. He expects Sylvain to joke or flirt incessantly. He hasn’t; Sylvain’s quiet when they sit at their table in the corner of the coffee shop, nose-deep in a math text.

Felix’s gaze narrows slightly when he reads the title. “You’re taking Calculus III?”

“No,” says Sylvain, eyes not leaving his book. He flips a page, looking bored. “It’s a prerequisite, so I’ve already taken it, but sometimes I have to revisit.”

“Already taken it?” Sylvain taps another textbook to the side and Felix’s eyes widened. “Ordinary and Partial Differential Mathematics?” Felix can not for the life of him, think of a degree that would require a course like this.

Sylvain hums. “Yeah, it’s my required math for this semester.”

“For a jockstrap like yourself?” The nickname has stuck and so far, Sylvain hasn’t stopped Felix from using it.

Finally, Sylvain looks up, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I like math,” he says simply, “and I’m good at it. It’s an easy course for me.”

Felix isn’t sure what’s easy about math that he doesn’t even grasp the purpose of, but Sylvain’s only proven himself to be a weird man at his core. Sylvain looks at Felix’s book in return.

“Statistics,” says Sylvain. Felix has a distinct impression that he’s not remotely impressed.

“A requirement,” says Felix. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t take math at all. But it’s part of a Business degree.”

“Business.” Sylvain snorts. “What a boring degree. Aren’t you here for fencing?”

“On a fencing scholarship, yes. There’s no future in a sport, though.” Felix narrows his eyes at him. “Something that you should probably learn.”

Sylvain’s got the build of a footballer, though, so Felix knows that he’s likely on that track. But, Sylvain doesn’t really talk about himself much, let alone his schooling. He has a tendency to watch people carefully with a gaze that’s far too knowing.

Felix never likes that look, like Sylvain’s mind is far away and thinking. A thinking Sylvain is likely a dangerous Sylvain. It’s always the ones you least suspect. Glenn would have been best friends with this dolt.

“What?” says Felix, annoyed.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, turning back to his textbook.

Felix frowns but doesn’t push to ask more.

As the weeks pass, things shift from a tentative, peaceful study, into an actual friendship. Felix wants to hate it; a large part of him wants to loathe it because he doesn’t like people, nor does he like it when people admire him in return.

But, Felix has learned in their brief time together that it’s not all bad. Not every person who is friendly with you wants something in return. Being a Fraldarius has severely skewed the way that he views the general public, but Sylvain seems to have no idea what his roots are, thank the Goddess.

It’s led to a low-key relationship, full of quiet jokes and genuine care. Felix grudgingly accepts it.

Like always, Felix finds Sylvain holding their table in the corner, a cup of coffee already ordered and waiting for him. Bernadetta’s handmade mugs might be odd and a little bizarre, but they serve drinks all the same, even if it loses its heat more quickly.

Sylvain once berated him for his wasteful use of to-go cups and Felix relented without much of a fight. Much to his irritation.

“One large red-eye, black as your soul,” says Sylvain, pushing the cup towards Felix. “I think he threw in an extra shot this time.”

Felix grunts, noncommittally, drops his bag to the ground and slumps into his chair. The mug is hot to the touch, so it must be fresh, and Felix leans over to inhale deeply. Sylvain makes a gagging sound which causes Felix to glare at him.

“No judgment,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “Actually, a lot of judgment because only stone-cold dicks can drink that dredge--”

“Go back to the field,” snaps Felix, before taking a sip. It’s dark and bitter as it burns through his veins. Perfection, really. Sylvain just has bad taste.

“Always with the jock references,” says Sylvain. “At least you haven’t called me jockstrap yet.”

“Apt name for someone like yourself.”

Sylvian blinks. “What does that even mean?”

Felix huffs. “An athlete, you dolt.” He takes another sip. “You make fun of my sport enough that it's only appropriate that I do the same.”

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment and then he bursts out laughing. “Wait, wait,” he starts. “You think I’m an athlete? Why?”

“You're built like a footballer,” says Felix. “Infuriatingly tall and broad.”

“Not to say that jocks are dumb, or anything, but with my courseload what makes you think that I even have time to think about playing a sport?”

Felix thinks for a long moment, coming to realize that even with their burgeoning friendship, he knows next to nothing about Sylvain. He’s easy to get along with, they’ve fallen into an easy routine and Felix even finds that studying flies by with little to no thought by his side. Something about Sylvain’s quiet presence in the coffee shop makes it easier to focus.

Still.

“Wait, you don’t?” asks Felix. “Why didn’t you ever say--”

“I thought that you were just insulting me, I didn’t think that you actually thought that I--” Sylvain stops, laughing again. “I’m sorry, this is hilarious. It shows just how bad you are with people. Pure comedic gold.”

“You said you were on scholarship!”

At that, Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, an academic one. Astronomy and Astrophysics.”

“Astrophysics?” blurts Felix incredulously.

In retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, he thinks. Suddenly, the textbooks of differential calculus and other various maths and sciences he can’t pronounce make a hell of a lot more sense. He reaches out, lifting the book that Sylvain’s currently working from, eyeballing the title.

“Steller, Galactic and Extragalactic Astronomy,” Felix reads. Then he moves to the next. “Statistical Quantum Mechanics.” Felix meets Sylvain’s sheepish gaze. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

“I’ve wanted to understand the planets ever since I saw Star Trek as a kid--”

“Are you really basing your degree on a television show that you watched growing up? One that isn’t even that good?”

Sylvain’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you did not just disrespect the best television show to ever have been created.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” says Felix. “I have an essay for Business Statistics, and it’s going to be hard enough to focus knowing that you’re doing experimental math over there.”

“Theoretical math,” says Sylvain, coyly correcting him.

“Whatever,” hisses Felix. “Honestly, being a footballer would be less annoying.”

Sylvain frowns slightly. “Than being smart?”

“What?” Felix scowls. “No, that isn’t what I meant. I don’t give a rat’s ass how smart you are, but really, Sylvain-- Star Trek?”

Sylvain lets out a long breath and Felix realizes that he must be used to being judged. Sylvain doesn’t have the typical look of a scientist when you think about it. He’s handsome and well built, looking like he spends more time on a beach than a mechanics lab.

Felix has the decency to be at least a little bit embarrassed for assuming, not that he’d publicly admit to it.

“Look, just go back to your book,” says Felix. “I’ll go back to mine. And if I have any math questions, I’m going to expect your help.”

At that, Sylvain lets out a little chuckle, different from his usual boisterous laugh. It takes Felix a moment to realize that it’s a genuine moment from Sylvain, one where he’s let down all those walls he’s carefully put up.

It seems that he’s even more guarded than Felix is, something of mild interest. If Felix took an interest in things. He doesn’t, he thinks, but it’s more like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Alright,” says Sylvain. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Simple math confuses me more than this does.”

What a ridiculous thing to say, but it’s not as annoying as the way that Felix’s mouth twitches into a near smile.

In the aftermath of Felix’s assumed snafu, Sylvain makes irritating strides to get to know Felix better. Irritating, because Felix has come to learn that he likes spending time with the genius of a chump, be it lunches between classes, or dinner after their study session. A variety of low-commitment activities that are usually full of small talk that Felix is angered he doesn’t hate.

“Just to be more convincing,” said Sylvain, doing most of the talking like always. Felix was inclined to agree, considering that Annette told him that Sylvain wasn’t his type and the idea of the two of them together seemed frankly, odd.

“I don’t get what the issue is,” says Annette, one day that seems like eons after Felix struck his deal with Sylvain. It’s past winter holiday and creeping into the spring, warm enough to catch a snack at the crepe stand after Annette’s yoga class. “Are you bothered that you like to spend time with him?”

“No, that’s not--” Felix pauses. “I’m not good at making friends.”

“We’re friends,” says Annette, shoving a mouthful of crepe into her mouth.

Felix wants to remind her that they met after she asked him to dinner, and it was the one time he’d said yes. It lasted about thirty minutes before they both decided dinner was a bust and went bowling instead. Annette kicked his ass, looked pretty while doing it and he’d felt nothing in return.

Instead, he says, “You're persistent.” It’s half-hearted and he doesn’t really mean it, but Annette’s cheeks puff up anyway.

“Oh, Felix! You’re evil,” huffs Annette, but she never stays mad at him for long, turning her attention back to her food.

“Sylvain is… different,” says Felix, as they sit down on a bench.

Annette nods sagely. “I mean, yeah, isn’t that why you like him?”

“He’s sufferable.”

“I mean, I’ll admit, he’s an odd choice and definitely not your type but--”

“Wait, Annette,” says Felix. “Do you think that I actually like him? As in romantically?”

She blinks at him, confused. “I mean, don’t you?” asks Annette around a mouthful of food. She’s never been very ladylike, but it’s a breath of fresh air at the end of all things. Normally it would endear Felix. But.

“ What?” snaps Felix, eyes immediately narrowing. “Of course I don’t, this entire thing has been a ruse to get people to leave me alone.”

Annette chews at her food thoughtfully for a second and then says, “But you enjoy spending time with him.”

“I’ve made that apparent,” says Felix. “It vexes me.”

“You’ve admired how smart he is.”

“Infuriatingly so, but it’s useful when we study.” Felix pauses. “Don’t tell him that I said that.”

“You spend your free time with him,” says Annette, gesturing at Felix with her crepe. “This is the first time I’ve seen you face-to-face in like a month, but you go out of your way to see him every day.”

At that, Felix starts, mouth snapping shut as he thinks. Annette’s right, he does go out of his way to spend time with Sylvain. And if they can’t meet properly, it’s texting. Sylvain’s usually the one to greet him in the morning with a corny horoscope that neither of them believes, but still laugh about. And Felix is usually the one to say goodnight, even if it isn’t warranted.

It feels wrong if they don’t share words at least once a day.

“Annette,” says Felix.

“Hm?” hums Annette, cheeks bulging around the last bite of her crepe.

“Am I in love with him?” It’s rhetorical, of course, and dreadful in tone, but Annette answers anyway.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“No,” says Felix, mouth parted in awe as though the heavens had just been explained to him. Or, Sylvain explained theoretical warp theory and Felix finally understood it. That’ll never happen, but--

“I love him.” The words come easier than he expects and they fill him with unexpected warmth. He wants more of it. He’s also afraid of it, but if there’s anything that Felix is good at, it’s striking something head-on with force.

He hasn’t lost a fencing match in nearly three years.

Annette, blessedly, is quiet for once, just watching him process his feelings. And when he’s done, when Felix comes to his conclusion, she asks, “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” says Felix, and it’s honest and true, and strangely welcome. He hasn’t felt this good in years. Certainly not since Glenn passed.

“Good,” says Annette, “Now go kiss him.”

Felix’s answer is dumping the rest of his crepe directly into her lap, the loss of his snack well justified.

Because Felix’s life is apparently a romantic comedy, he expects things between him and Sylvain to become awkward.

It doesn't. In fact, everything is disgustingly normal. They keep their study dates, emphasis on the study part. Sylvain still greets him with his coffee order, and on the few occasions that Felix beats him to the shop, he greets Sylvain with his ridiculous white mocha, extra whip.

There are a few differences, Felix supposes.

When Sylvain leans over to help with a math problem, Felix turns to him. They meet eyes more often than not. Felix willingly covers Sylvain’s dinner, which raises an eyebrow because he’s notoriously stingy.

But, if Felix seems off, Sylvain never mentions it or broaches the topic. It’s aggravating, how easy it is to just keep to the routine. And it’s not that Felix doesn’t want more; ever since his talk with Annette, he finds himself entertaining the idea further.

He’s done a lot of thinking. Sylvain’s handsome, there isn’t a doubt about it, but that’s not what pulls Felix to him. Sylvain’s smart as a whip and doesn’t mince his words. And yes, he puts walls up and dances about things personal, but Felix does the same.

And lately, Sylvain’s started to pull those walls down, comfortable in Felix’s presence.

No one’s ever comfortable around him and Felix is struck by how much it means. Feelings are hard and love is even worse. Felix isn’t quite sure that it’s worth it.

But, he hasn’t written the idea entirely off.

“Felix?”

Felix blinks. “I, er--”

Sylvain’s mouth tugs slightly downward at one side. Concerned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Fencing,” blurts Felix. “The big tourney coming up.”

“You mean the one two weeks ago?”

Okay, so, Felix has been more distracted than he cares to admit. It’s all Sylvain’s fault. “Sylvain, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. School is draining. The usual.”

“Tired,” says Sylvain, unconvinced. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed and watching Felix carefully. Curse Sylvain’s perceptiveness and his ability to look right through people.

“Look, Sylvain--”

“Felix Fraldarius,” drawls another voice. They both turn to find a familiar face framed by bleach blonde hair and twirling a lock around her fingers. There’s the snap of gum in her mouth as she chews open-mouthed and unflattering.

Immediately, Sylvain is on the defensive. “Hey--”

“Hold it, golden boy,” says the girl, “I know you aren’t really dating. Heard it one day after you grabbed a bite to eat.”

Sylvain’s face darkens. “Have you been following us?”

The girl makes a face at the accusation. “Ugh, as if. It was a coincidence, I swear, but what a wonderful one. Means that I’ve got a chance.”

Felix immediately bites back, hackles raised. “I already had little interest, but as of right now, there’s not even a remote possibility of you having a chance.”

“Is it really so hard to just give it a go? You might even like me.” She bats her eyes in a pathetic attempt to appeal to him, but all Felix can think of his tanned skin dotted with freckles and sun-kissed auburn hair.

“Doubtful,” says Felix, dryly.

It takes only a second for her features to change dramatically, from coy and shy to contemptuous and sneering. “I wonder why I even bothered,” says the girl, before nodding to Sylvain. “Clearly your taste isn’t as good as I would have thought. Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

Yes, ad nauseum. From friends, the general public, even Sylvain himself. His problems with women and dating, and commitment issues. His brother and father, and the pressure of family legacy. At first, from those around them who’d heard of their dating, who’d seen them hanging out. People who felt it their duty to warn Felix.

And eventually, Sylvain himself who’s recently opened up about the heavy baggage that he carries around, shouldering it without much of a complaint. If anything, Sylvain’s the one looking out for others.

So yes, Sylvain doesn’t have a stellar reputation, but there’s a lot more to a person than what’s seen on the surface. A lesson that Felix has spent the last half-year learning quite unwillingly.

“Do you think yourself superior?” asks Felix, eyes narrowing at her. “You have no concept of personal space, nor do you seem to comprehend the words ‘no’ and ‘not interested’. Sylvain could murder someone in cold blood and still have twice the worth that you hold.”

“It’s a wonder, why you would even consider him,” scoffs the girl.

“Obviously it’s because I love him and despite the terrible things the lot of you gossip about, he makes me perfectly happy.”

The table goes quiet, both the girl and Sylvain staring at him. Likely, for different reasons. Felix didn’t mean to say it so plainly, but he’s never been good at pulling his punches, even when it comes to verbal lashings.

Besides, she brought it upon herself.

And against all odds, Felix feels wholly and utterly satisfied, not a moment of regret at his confession. He takes a sip of his coffee, fingers curled around his mug tenderly, meeting her gaze head-on.

“You should leave,” says Sylvain, before the girl can even respond. She opens her mouth to retort, but stops when Sylvain smiles at her. Only it isn’t a smile, it’s a nasty-looking smirk, more like a wolf that’s about to pounce its prey.

Wisely, she backs off, huffing in annoyance as she turns and leaves.

And then there are two, sitting at a table in silence. Felix is oddly comfortable, sipping at his drink while Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes. Thinking about what he’s going to say. Felix supposes that he’s opened the inevitable can of worms.

“So,” starts Sylvain, “correct me if I’m wrong, but when you said that you love me, it sounded pretty genuine.”

Felix scoffs, he can’t help it. “I always mean the things that I say.”

He expects Sylvain to bolt, to run away, to want nothing to do with this. Instead, Sylvain smiles, small and real, regarding Felix with a kind of warmth that immediately sets him on high alert.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asks Felix, testily. But Sylvain only chuckles, soft at first and then louder. “Really Sylvain? You’re laughing? Right now?”

“Sorry,” says Sylvain, “It’s not actually funny-- okay, that’s a lie, it’s hilarious.”

Felix frowns, sneering defensively. “Is the idea of me loving someone, least of all you, so entertaining?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” demands Felix, exasperated. Sylvain’s not one to beat around the bush, but he can’t seem to find his words, too busy being amused by Felix’s feelings, to his utter embarrassment.

“It’s because I love you too.”

Felix’s mouth falls open because that’s the last thing he expects Sylvain to say. He doesn’t answer, gaping openly at Sylvain, floundering for an explanation. Eventually, Sylvain finds himself, clearing his throat slightly.

Sylvain looks to Felix’s face and then his gaze drops to where his hand rests on the table. Considering. Felix really hopes that he’s not planning on taking it, but Sylvain does, fingers tugging at his palm gently.

Felix lets it happen, settling on the explanation that he’s just not like himself at the moment.

“Felix,” says Sylvain, this time quieter and more serious. He thumbs at Felix’s knuckles, the touch soft and hesitant. “I’ll admit, I’m a little bit relieved.”

“I’m annoyed,” says Felix. “I’ve been annoyed since the moment I realized it because all I’ve been able to do is think of you. It’s infuriating in the worst of ways.”

There’s a moment that passes as they watch each other, Sylvain’s hand practically burning around Felix’s. And then, Sylvain says, “Felix, can I kiss you?”

Yes, Felix thinks. It’s such a foreign feeling that he nearly pulls away but he doesn’t. He’s determined to indulge. It’s about time he’s enjoyed something in his life.

So, what he says instead is, “If you must,” the words clipped but his usual crustiness softer than normal. It makes Sylvain smile at him again, looking at Felix like he can see right through him.

Sylvain leans forward smoothly, cupping Felix’s jaw in his other hand. He’s still looking at him, like he’s some sort of treasure, paused right before Felix’s mouth. And that makes Felix impatient.

Felix is the one to close the distance, sealing their lips together like a promise. Sylvain’s mouth is soft under his, but he responds eagerly, his han moving to the back of his neck. Felix has never really put stock into the whole sparks flew and things were felt nonsense. Turns out that he’d been wrong and that kissing is kind of everything. All he can think of is Sylvain’s presence and the solid weight of him as he leans in.

Sylvain licks into the kiss, but only just barely, coaxing a tad more than just a mild response from Felix. And Felix can feel his skin burning bright red with strain, or embarrassment, or maybe just the idea that they’re doing this in public.

He doesn’t care, Felix wants more, fingers curling into Sylvain’s shirt and tugging slightly.

Eventually, they part because breathing is necessary and even Felix requires air. Regrettably. He wants to go back in, to kiss Sylvain again, just one more time before he gains his senses back and thinks better of it.

But first.

“You know, I’ll kill you if you hurt me,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip around Sylvain’s shirt.

Sylvain laughs, leaning close to Felix's ear and pressing a soft kiss there. “I know. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #felix x sylvain #sylvix #sylvain/felix #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius

33 notes · View notes