❤️‍🩹 — stormy nights

[lunafleurette]

Title: Stormy Nights
Fandom: Blooming Panic! (Visual Novel)
Rating: T
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Status: Complete
Relationships: xyx/Reader
Characters: xyx, Main Character, Reader
AO3 Tags: Romance, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fade to Black, Valentine's Day Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Chatting & Messaging, Bloomic Server Shenanigans, xyx is Dramatic, MC's username is LovelyLola, no beta we die like societyboy, the author's obsessed with wordle, Present Tense, POV Second Person, Otome Week, Otome Week 2022, Implied nightowl/onionthief, Reader is Main Character (Blooming Panic)
Wordcount: 4,368 (AO3)

Summary: No matter how much it rained for him, you’d take it, because he was more than just the miserable stormcloud he thought of himself as. You’d be the flower that blooms only for this man, a flower that doesn’t wilt or crumple no matter how harsh the winds or how heavy the raindrops that fall on you.

Author's Note: This was originally written for Otome Week 2022, organized on Twitter. The February 15 prompt was ''stormy night".

Read on AO3

The crack of thunder is abrupt; you aren’t prepared in the least for it, having just settled in between the covers. It rattles the windows near the bed, though thankfully, they’re closed. With a gasp, you almost drop your phone on your face, where you were chatting with the Blooming Panic server members.

You end up keysmashing the chat without meaning to, interrupting what was yet another argument between onionthief and nightowl.

nightowl: ???! @onionthief did u seriously just

nightowl: make a SPREADSHEET of the servers’ scores on WORDLE?????

two2: did u really have to act surprised

two2: this is onion we’re talking about

onionthief: There is no disadvantage in keeping track of our server leaderboard. In the interest of fairness for the prize winner at the end of this month, it would fall upon me to uphold monitoring everyone else’s scores.

Quest: It doesn’t sound like a bad idea lol

LovelyLola: ALSDFHG

LovelyLola: ;QKHTQEWPTOQIHTQO

Quest: Did something happen?

nightowl: ???? omg MC are u ok???

LovelyLola: there’s a thunderstorm

LovelyLola: i was just surprised ;-;

Quest: Oh, you said the weather was bad earlier.

Quest: MC, are you afraid of thunder?

You settle back under the covers, tucking them closer around yourself. Truthfully, you aren’t afraid of storms. Coming from a tropical archipelago of a country, you could even say you were a veteran at experiencing them, but-

Another harsh rattling shakes the windows. Outside, you see the palm trees begin to sway perilously, the wind howling in time with the almost deafening sound of the rain that beat down on the roof. And everything else.

Sometimes, your partner really gets the most eccentric of clients. This is why you’re waiting for him to come to your resort cabin at 11 pm on Valentine’s.

At this reminder, your king-sized bed with its thread count in the quadruple digits once again feels much too empty for you.

This client wants xyx to work closely with them on the case, and has you both flown out into another state. It is on their dime that you and your lover are currently enjoying the amenities of a 5-star resort.

… Well, you could have been enjoying it, if it isn’t for the inclement weather. And the notable absence of the one reason why you found yourself agreeing to be here.

LovelyLola: not really?? could be better if i wasn’t alone though.

Quest: xyx hasn’t come back yet?

nightowl: aaaaaa i wish we could be there with you ><

nightowl: no one should be alone on vday!

two2: we are tho, that’s why we’re chatting right now?

NakedToaster: laksdgagalh

You could almost hear the frown in Quest’s voice had you been in a voice call, having grown familiar with all the server members in the many hangouts that are now possible ever since Bloombot lifted restrictions.

With a chuckle, you strive to clarify the absence of the tease that you had come to call your own. Ever the server dad, Quest was always looking out for everyone on the server.

LovelyLola: his client suddenly asked for his time earlier this afternoon and he couldn’t turn it down

nightowl: whaaaa?? talk about dickish

LovelyLola: no

LovelyLola: something happened with the case

onionthief: So this is why you’re currently stuck wasting the rest of Valentine’s, and not on a date. MC, you should hold yourself to better standards.

Nightowl: @onionthief what the FUCK, onion, you didn’t have to say it that way?

NakedToaster: ohhh, he’s gonna get it from the rest now lmao

LovelyLola: I don’t mind! Not really

LovelyLola: i trust him, he wouldn’t have bailed if he didn’t want to

LovelyLola: just

You do feel a tad lonely. Before, you were a stout believer that Valentines is just another capitalist holiday that preyed on the emotions of consumers. You even remember telling your past partners that.

It’s just as well that the one to break all of your preconceptions about this holiday would turn out to be him.

Biting your lip, you think back to how the day had started.

---

There’s a light, soft, pressure on the crown of your head that has you stirring, the last dregs of sleep clearing out like the fog at dawn. You crack an eye open, catching your boyfriend of one year pull away, and find yourself chasing the fleeting morning kiss he had unfairly given you before you could reciprocate.

As always, he indulges you and ducks back down to press smiling lips to yours, a warmth spreading from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

“… mnghmorning?”

“Morning, love.” There’s a fond chuckle in Xyx’s voice as he straightens up. “Coffee’s ready, if you want it.”

“Time?”

“Rather early for you, but you said you wanted to take a walk, if I remember correctly?”

“Mhmm.” You watch him as he gathers his belongings, a messenger bag and a briefcase already arranged for the day. Xyx is already dressed; today, it’s business casual.

Knowing his favorites by heart, you aren’t surprised to see that he’s picked out a silk shirt in dark gold that compliments his olive skin.

None too subtly, your eyes wander towards the teasing glimpse of collarbones and the top of his chest, where the first two buttons of his dress shirt are undone. There’s a day-old bruise from your lips on his throat, and your face burns at the memory. Concealer. He needs concealer.

One hickey turns into two, and then three-

Did he really have the audacity to go out like this?

“Doll? You in there, or must I do something drastic to win your attention?”

Your gaze meets his, those emerald eyes you love glinting, and you huff. He’s shrugged on his blazer at some point when you were distracted. There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, and you’re suddenly beset with the urge to wipe it off. Preferably with your own mouth.

Drat. He woke you up like this just to see your reaction, didn’t he?

“You totally wanted me to put your concealer on for you,” you accuse him, knowing how feeble it sounds to your own ears.

A dark brow raises innocently in reply. Xyx, knowing you’re fully awake by now, hooks a finger underneath your chin.

“Did I? Bold accusation.” There’s a warm rasp to his voice now that makes your toes curl. Even if your feet were hidden by the thick comforter, he could see the way your face turns even redder. Your back arches, caught in a shudder as a calloused hand brushes your jaw.

“I-I won’t do it if you keep looking at me like that!”

There’s that cat-got-the-canary look on his face as he laughs, full-bodied and warm. It’s hard to stay annoyed at him like this, and he knows that.

“We can’t have that now, can we? My apologies, doll.”

Having gotten his daily dose of watching your face turn the shade of a ripe tomato, Xyx behaves when you finally fish out that stick of concealer from the dresser.

Almost behaves, because-

“Don’t need the coffee now to wake up, eh?” He can’t help but get one last dig in as you sit him down on the stool in front of the mirror.

Rolling your eyes, you refuse to dignify that with a response and get to work covering up the evidence of last night’s activities.

He was right, though.

You barely even need coffee to wake up fully if he did this every day. Lord forbid you tell him that.

---

“Order whatever you want, and please, don’t skip breakfast.”

You see Xyx off at the door of your cabin after the morning’s excitement dies down, handing him his briefcase. He’s now going on about your concerning tendency to skip breakfast. As if he’s one to talk, being the one in this relationship to believe that Vegemite on one slice of toast makes for a full lunch.

Really, you’ve seen his eating habits on his off days when he holes up like some gremlin to play FFXIV with Toasty.

He’s not one to talk.

“Yeah, I will,” you mumble, running over your plans for the day. A morning walk for exercise to get ideas for your book, one hour of research, maybe room service for lunch? Or did you want to go to the restaurant-

“Love?”

You look up and notice Xyx’s intent look. He watches you for a moment before he adjusts the bag on his shoulder.

“What?”

“Can you dress up before eight pm later?”

Blinking, you nod at this strange request. “Uh, sure. Anything for you.”

This never fails to get him to turn red, the sheer casual sincerity of your words. Even one year into this relationship, you still feel satisfied to elicit those reactions. Serves him right after that little moment when he woke you up.

Turnabout is fair play, right?

Clearing his throat, Xyx can’t help but smile despite the flush on his cheeks. “Excellent. I’ve plans for us tonight. For Valentine’s.”

He’s only ever this abrupt when he’s nervous. And over Valentine’s? You remember that this would be your first together, as a couple. It’s your turn to be amused.

“Right, looking forward to it because it’s you.” Your lips split in a grin at the look he shoots you. “Yeah, I said I don’t care for this holiday usually, but you haven’t been very subtle about this. It’s cute as hell.”

It’s worth it to fall for a consumerist holiday, if only to capture the moment this man lights up at your words.

---

Only, his plans don’t happen the way he wants them to.

His brief text comes just as you had been dressing up, your smartphone chiming as you put the finishing touches on your ensemble. Grabbing it off the table, you blink down at the words on your screen, a sinking feeling in your stomach.

going to be late. something happened at work. i’m sorry. - x

This rarely happens with Xyx, who could smooth talk his way in and out of a dilemma with other people. Whatever happened with his client, it must have been serious.

Outside, the wind whistles loudly as a soft drizzle starts. It had been cloudy the entire day earlier. You gaze outside the floor-length windows, watching the rain. The weather has been fluctuating, since you arrived.

I’ll wait for you. - L

It’s okay. - L

You fire off two messages in quick succession. While you’re a little disappointed, you’re more worried about him.

In the time you’ve been dating each other, you’ve come to learn certain things.

Like the way Xyx holds himself to much higher standards than the other people around him. It’s not so obvious, with the way your love would pass off most things as a jest. Or the way he would evade deeper probes about his feelings just to poke fun at others.

No, it’s not so obvious if you look at him as xyx, the server troll.

You come to a decision, then.

Grabbing the phone for room service, you quickly dial the resort’s restaurant.

“Hello? Could you come deliver dinner for two?”

---

The hotel dinner is left alone, long cooled by now, on the counter of the mini-kitchen. The ‘late’ Xyx apologized for earlier is now a definite ‘I won’t make it’, but you resign yourself to waiting no matter how long it takes.

Your phone reads 11:14 pm by the time your nerves settle from the intermittent flashes of bright lightning followed by roaring thunder outside. It’s actually pretty nice, now, since you’ve always liked the ambient noise of a rainstorm.

nightowl: xyx’s still not back?:(

BIGLADY: why don’t you break out some wine? like i’m doing rn

nightowl: yeah yeah

nightowl: we’d totally drink with u if u want ><

June: uhhh, not a good idea since she’s not single unlike you two and she’s not here to lament or anything ^^;

nightowl: but juuuuuuuuuuneeee;;

A handful of server members are still up at this late hour. Quest is the last to leave you with this handful, regretfully having work tomorrow morning. So now, you’re stuck with nightowl, BIGLADY, onionthief, and June. June, who is not lamenting her relationship status unlike the other two, but rather pulling an all-nighter over a paper.

You are curled up in your ridiculously comfy bed, a pillow on your side. A paltry substitute for his arm around your waist, but it’ll have to do. For now.

Okay, yeah. You’re not going to mope.

LovelyLola: she’s right

LovelyLola: i’m not going to sulk or anything

BIGLADY: uh huh, we believe you

nightowl: not very convincing

nightowl: but it’s ok to feel disappointed, u know

onionthief: He’s right, for once. You were quite eager to tell us about your plans for the evening, earlier.

nightowl: ok so i’m going to ignore THAT for now

nightowl: because your vday is ruined and you’re stuck here with us

onionthief: A valid reason to be disappointed, indeed.

NakedToaster: guys

NakedToaster: I think she gets that

NakedToaster: but she’s thinking more of how xyx feels

June: oh

June: yeah…

June: he’s hard on himself

LovelyLola: i appreciate everyone’s concern

LovelyLola: but i care more for his wellbeing than this holiday

LovelyLola: i don’t want to welcome him back while being drunk and sad myself

NakedToaster: is that a distraction ur asking for

NakedToaster: because boy i’ve got a good deal for one if u wanna listen

LovelyLola: Toasty, I didn’t exactly bring our gaming PC here

June: another distraction that’s not FFXIV, please

onionthief: Quordle. My siblings were talking about this.

nightowl: omfg algh;glgh there’s MORE -ordles? ;A;

BIGLADY: LOOOOL

You laugh aloud at this development and let your friends distract you from the ticking of the clock. More seconds and minutes pass, creeping closer to midnight.

---

Knock, knock, knock.

Ding.

You almost fail to hear anything over the rainstorm, your eyelids dangerously close to shutting as you stare at your phone screen. At this point, BIGLADY and nightowl are drunk, onionthief is lording his Quordle score over the rest of you peasants, and June is keeping quiet about her probably better score.

11:55 pm.

Ding.

The second the sound registers, your drowsiness evaporates. You bolt upright from the bed and fling the comforter off. There’s a rapid pitter-patter of your bare feet as you hurry to the door. Without a second thought, you fling it open.

“Hey-” You cut off as you see the state of him.

Six feet and one inch of soaked clothes and miserable green eyes stare back at you under a mop of damp hair. The storm continues behind him, and you remember with horror that he forgot to bring an umbrella earlier. Your cabin is quite a ways out from the conference hall.

Xyx breathes in and out, chest rising and falling as if he had just run a marathon to get to you.

“I-” You hear him start when you grab his arm and yank him inside. He lets you, and your chest tightens painfully.

“I didn’t want to mess this up.” There is something very fragile in his voice that reminds you of shattered glass. It makes you want to tuck his head under your chin, despite your height difference, and hide him from whatever had hurt him out there.

But sometimes, you can’t protect him from himself, and that’s what guts you.

He stares straight ahead, unseeing, as you pry off his blazer. It’s nearly soaked through, and you drop it to the floor without a word. The button-up that you admired on him this morning is in a similar state. You lift your hands to unbutton it, when he grabs them.

His fingers are cold to touch. You should be the one cradling them in between yours, not the other way around. Xyx stares at the smallness of your hands in his, then drops his head down on your shoulder.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” There is no pet name, no playfulness left in him right now, only a voice that hitches ever so slightly with emotion.

This is his barest self. This is the Xyx who thinks he deserves all the anger you could give him. And all over his perceived colossal failure to give you the Valentine’s that he thinks you should have.

You wriggle one of your hands, trapped between your chests, out of his. His damp hair sticks flat to his head, but you do your best to card your fingers through the dark locks anyway.

For a long, long moment that could have been seconds, or a few minutes, you’re both silent. And then you move yourself to speak.

“I’m not mad.” Your voice is a feeble, tiny thing; as if you’re afraid of pushing him away should you startle him.

“Sometimes, I wish you’d be mad at me,” Xyx admits, hoarse and bitter, into your skin. Rainwater drips from him, his soaked hair and clothes, onto you. Yet you stay perfectly still, but for the hand in his hair.

No matter how much it rained for him, you’d take it, because he was more than just the miserable stormcloud he thought of himself as. You’d be the flower that blooms only for this man, a flower that doesn’t wilt or crumple no matter how harsh the winds or how heavy the raindrops that fall on you.

You crack a tiny grin, even if he couldn’t see it. “Oh, I get plenty mad at you. When you steal the covers just because you want me to cuddle up to you.” Gently, you tug his hair to make him pull back.

Xyx complies easily, his eyes catching the smile on your lips.

“When you insist that your stupid Vegemite sandwich is a full meal.” You tug your other hand free, only to grab one of his and hold it, rubbing warmth back into his skin with your thumb.

There is a hitch in his breath. He doesn’t interrupt you, but you could see the spark slowly return to his eyes.

“When you take photos of me while I’m asleep, and put the weirdest filters over them to send to me later-”

Holding his hand over your lips, you exhale a warm breath onto his palm and revel in the shiver that runs through it.

“When you serenade me with Never Gonna Give You Up on guitar, and make me like it-”

There’s a tremble in his arm, a cut-off laugh, no matter how soft, from his parted lips. You sneak a glance up at him from under your lashes, and press a kiss, as tender as the first blush of spring, on his palm.

“When you kiss me and pull back before I can have my fill of you, you damned tease- mmph!”

Before you can finish this one, Xyx swoops down to cover your lips with his. He kisses you harshly, a hard press of the lips that has you gasping. Taking advantage of this, your lover prods his tongue in your open mouth. You melt against him, boneless, as he ravages your mouth as if to pay you back for your earlier words.

When he pulls back, you’re left blinking rapidly at him, mouth red and aching. And then you scowl, poking a finger into his chest. “You should have let me finish!”

A wet laugh bubbles up from his chest at the flushed and indignant face you show him. “I was dying, love, how could I?”

“The point is, I’m not mad at you,” you shoot back with a huff, fighting your urge to grin. The two of you gaze at each other for a moment longer. Despite this levity, the shadows aren’t completely gone from his eyes, though they are much lighter than earlier.

But this is still a start.

“… Sometimes, plans just don’t go the way we want them to, and special days aren’t perfect.” Maybe it’s a trite thing to say, his therapist probably has told him similar, but you want to say it. “That doesn’t lessen the thought behind it.”

“Even if I made you wait for nothing?”

“Nothing? I was waiting for you, not the Valentine’s thing.” You quirk a brow at him. “Xyx, I care more for you than for some holiday.”

Then you remember that he’s standing before you in soaked clothes, and your eyes widen. This guy and his tendency to be too distracting for his own good. “We can talk more about this when you take a hot bath.”

“Doll, you warmed me up-”

“Can you hold up with the teasing before I chuck you into the shower?”

---

Between your soft words, patient hands, and the hot bath, Xyx practically melts. He lets you wash his hair, eyes slipping shut in bliss as your fingers massage his scalp. For once, you’re using this cabin’s rather fancy tub to the fullest.

He’s quiet for long enough that you think he has fallen asleep under your ministrations, his head drooping down until he speaks up.

“I wanted to make everything perfect for you, and do my job at the same time.” His soft voice is barely audible.

Your hands still; you listen for his next words. He needs to talk about what makes him sad, instead of keeping it to himself.

“And I miss Cat,” he continues, and as a reward for that honesty, your fingers are back to work again. “We left them at a good cat hotel, but... Vday would have been truly perfect if they were here with us.”

“Not gonna disagree with you on that,” you murmur, thinking of the feline that you both love so much. To be fair, Cat is probably living it up at that swanky cat hotel you both booked them into. Xyx never skimped on expenses when it came to Cat and you.

When he doesn’t say anything else and it becomes clear that the silence is waiting for you, you pause once again. “Cat and I don’t need perfect, as long as it’s you.”

“But,” you add as you feel him move under your hands, “I’m not going to tell you not to feel the way you do.” You knew with experience what it feels like, for someone to tell you not to acknowledge your own emotions.

As you finish with his hair, you reach over to poke his cheek. Xyx opens his eyes and turns to you, just as you lean down and press your lips to his forehead. “Just remember, I’m here for you.” Simpler words have never been spoken, but they are still necessary.

“Now, you should take a shower. I’m gonna reheat our food, okay?”

“Mhm. Not the candlelit dinner at the jazz bar that I planned, but not bad, either.”

---

Sometimes, Valentine’s doesn’t happen on the 24 hours that make up the entire day.

It happens in the earliest hour past midnight, between two people who wouldn’t have it any other way. It happens over reheated food from room service, but laughter is still shared between you, so why should it matter?

Xyx has a lot to learn about this relationship, he knows. He wants to deserve you, and the way that your eyes light up every time you see him. The way they lit up earlier when he showed up at the door, looking like something Cat would drag in, as if he was still a welcome sight.

The storm is still rather horrid outside, and he’s pretty sure that there are going to be lots of coconuts fallen on the ground in the morning. He’s pretty lucky that in his dash to get to your cabin, he didn’t get hit by a stray one. He’s lucky.

Lucky to have you.

When he puts on the jazz music and takes you into his arms to dance, he realizes that you haven’t even taken off that dress. The little red number that you must have chosen for him to see you in.

You chose that dress, earlier, and put it on despite knowing that he may well not show up for your date. Your hair’s a mess from the makeout session earlier.

And yet you’re still so damn perfect to him. You dress him up in a comfortable shirt and pants, caring little for yourself, and it does things to his insides.

When you turn questioning eyes up at him as your dance lulled to a stop, making him die inside at how adorable you look, he leans his forehead into yours. The music number is about to peter off, anyway.

“Thank you.” His voice is a warm purr, the one he knows makes certain parts of you pay attention.

“Anytime.” Xyx delights in that little squeak you make as his arm tightens around your waist, that face that you make the longer his gaze bores into yours.

“Doll, we’ve been over making such dangerous promises, haven’t we?”

“D-did we?”

“That we did. Shall I refresh you on why?”

Whatever reply you have on the tip of your tongue is swallowed up by his mouth as he corners you against the table, slotting one leg between your thighs. He cages you in between his arms, knowing the dangerous things it does to your heart.

When you two pull apart, Xyx smiles at you and lowers his head. Your hand tightens in his hair, a gasp cut off as he mouths at your pulse point.

“I’ll love you until dawn,” he swears against your neck. “I swear it.”

The storm gentles into a soft rain as the hours pass into the sunrise.

---

nightowl: lol he actually beat ur score??

nightowl: DESERVED

LovelyLola: guess this month’s prize goes to xyx, then?

xyx: i accept all monetary compensations for my show of brilliance

onionthief: Of course, someone in a career that asks you to have an impressive vocabulary would excel at Wordle. Even if he doesn’t usually show it. I can accept being beaten by xyx, but not so much @nightowl . Hypothetically.

two2: can you just get a room instead? vday just passed

BIGLADY: omg two you didn’t-

Quest: Here we go again…

salociN: Ah yes, @xyx and @LovelyLola

salociN: How was your Valentine’s?

Several people are typing…