#meteor survivorxreader

[owlespresso]

sunspot, meteor x reader tags: just vibes , takes place after Endwalker

Your breath fogs in the predawn air. The rolling hills of Yanxia stretch out all around you, dew wet on the grass. There’s something otherworldly about that time which floats between night and morning, before the sun has yet to peer above the jutting peaks and windswept plains.

A grouping of grey clouds adumbrated the paling skies, covers the pinks and yellows and oranges that the sun shepherds from the horizon each morning.

“You should be asleep,” Meteor murmurs into the crook of your neck. His bare hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs slipping underneath the hem of your grey pajama shirt. You lean back, savoring the slight give of his muscle, the heat of him through his loose jinbei. 

“I wanted to see the sunrise on our first morning here,” you murmur. The caliginous conditions which have welcomed you are hardly a fitting welcome for the so-called heroes of the star, but you have no one to take that up with. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” Meteor hums, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

“I know, but it doesn’t feel as special.” you huff. It’s childish, but you feel like you have the right to be after saving the goddamn Star from certain doom. The weather itself should bend to your whims out of sheer gratefulness, you think. As if detecting your indignance, the winds suddenly pick up, sending a shiver down your spine. You wrap your arms around yourself, turning to huddle up against your ever fastidious friend.

“Friend” is a peculiar word for what exists between you. That spark of intimacy, of raw want, has been there since the days of Ala Mhigo’s liberation. There’s hardly ever been a time to sit down and figure out a label. Not when the entire realm is constantly in need of heroes. It’s been a strange cycle. 

Fate would place you both in the same place. You would again feel the bond between you swell. But, before you could sit down and decide on a label, some realm-shattering event would occur. Sending two powerhouses to the same location would be a waste, thus you would trudge to opposite sides of the globe to solve the problems of strangers. 

By the time you finished saving who needed to be saved or killing who needed to be killed, you would both be too exhausted to stew on it. You’d fall into bed together. Not necessarily for pleasures of the flesh, but for the sake of melding together, of closing the space between your bodies for the first time in perhaps months. For the sake of listening to the aether thrum between you both, bright and warm as a patch of sunlight.

“It doesn’t have to be special,” Meteor says, “I’m just happy to spend time with you, again. Just the two of us.”

“Ugh,” you scoff playfully. “Don’t start getting all sweet on me.” 

“Come inside,” Meteor says, not indulging you with a response. You can get away with being a little bratty when he’s mired in half-sleep. He’s too sleepy, too rustled by the high winds to do anything other than cling onto your back. His broad hands come to rest on your hips. He squeezes what he finds there, and you feel safe, cradled between his palms and the welcoming warmth of his body. “We can watch the sunrise tomorrow. I’ll even stay up with you.”  

He makes to separate from you, to reel backwards into the safe haven of your cabin. You hastily follow, grabbing his hand and sticking close to his side, unwilling to forgo even a moment spent soaking up his warmth.

They call him Meteor, but to you, he is your spot of sun.