( humans. vile. cruel. dangerous. hunting and killing for sport, prizes and ornaments made out of skin and fur and worse, and lan wangji has been warned one too many times, whenever he swam too close to the shore. they’ll make jewelry out of your scales, but it rarely ever deterred him. there was a boy, once. his age, two-legged, always swimming near his favorite spot. his smile is the first thing he noticed, larger than the sun spilling over the horizon, pink and brilliant waves across the surface, the same colors creeping up his own cheeks. his eyes were his undoing, black and clear and wide, gentler than any current he’s ever been enveloped in. the opposite of everything he was ever told, and when he struggled for air, when he stopped, inert, lan wangji kicked his tail and helped him to the beach without an ounce of hesitation, only pressure in his chest, blood pounding.
and he kissed him.
his uncle saw, a dozen choppers to punish him, his back a marred mess to remind him of the dangers they all face every time he gets closer to them. you should have let him drown, a kiss that cost him a few years of his life, give or take. but the boy lived, smiled again, and lan wangji has been watching from afar ever since, learning his language in secret, leaving gifts from the ocean on the sand, for him, and keeping all threats at bay.
he never meant to show himself, but even from the depths of the sea, the boy radiates. it’s the sound of his laughter that lures him back up, softer than the water’s constant caress on his body; his head slowly breaks the surface, half-submerged, and lan wangji squints, gaze drifting from the boy’s feet to his face, and there isn’t enough water in his realm to quench his sudden thirst.
he wades gracefully, slightly closer, a little wary. and he stares. )
no subject
and he kissed him.
his uncle saw, a dozen choppers to punish him, his back a marred mess to remind him of the dangers they all face every time he gets closer to them. you should have let him drown, a kiss that cost him a few years of his life, give or take. but the boy lived, smiled again, and lan wangji has been watching from afar ever since, learning his language in secret, leaving gifts from the ocean on the sand, for him, and keeping all threats at bay.
he never meant to show himself, but even from the depths of the sea, the boy radiates. it’s the sound of his laughter that lures him back up, softer than the water’s constant caress on his body; his head slowly breaks the surface, half-submerged, and lan wangji squints, gaze drifting from the boy’s feet to his face, and there isn’t enough water in his realm to quench his sudden thirst.
he wades gracefully, slightly closer, a little wary. and he stares. )