#i love my beloved.... i love picking up the sweep with my dearest as the anchor and with funny amounts of hp left........ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagine-that · 3 years

Text

White horse

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: maybe angst? Kind of mentions of kidnapping ig?

AN: this one may or may not have more than one part coming 🤫🤭😉 also it’s too the song White Horse by Taylor Swift and I’ve linked it so you can listen while you read or after or before if you’d like!

——————————————————————————

Say you’re sorry, that face of an Angel

Comes out just when you need it to

“Loki get back here! We aren’t done talking about this!” You cry, chasing after the green cloaked god.

“There is simply nothing to talk about. You think leaving is a good idea, I think it is not. Therefore, you are forbidden to leave.” He says bitterly, storming away, back towards the palace.

“Oh for the love of Odin- you’re being ridiculous! You cannot forbid me from doing anything Loki! I am my own person, or am I not now my love?” You ask angrily, picking up your pace to even try and match his.

“Stop! Stop calling me that, stop trying to make it better. I am no longer your love y/n, I am no longer your anything it would seem. But no need to worry, I will be sure to think the same of you and nothing more.” He says coldly, the smirk you so despised playing on his lips.

You groan, smacking his arm. “Would you just listen to me for five minutes?! I-I don’t want to lose you Loki. But I have to get away from here, I don’t want to be contained to only this one place all my life, it’s not enough for me!” You cry, taking his cold, bony hand in your own and holding it tight. “I want to be with you, please.” You beg, your eyes filling with tears.

“Y/n, if Asgard isn’t enough for you, surely I am not either.” He says coldly.

“That’s not true! Do you know how long it took me to finally make this decision for myself? To decide leaving is what’s best?” You ask and he says nothing. “I cried for days at the thought of leaving you. I paced all the time. You’re not the only one having trouble with this choice. Loki- you’re my everything. I can’t bear the thought of losing you forever.” You promise him, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

As I paced back and forth all this time

Cause I honestly believed in you

“Then do not leave. Stay with me, become my princess. We can spend our days by the lake and reading books from the royal library.” Loki argues, taking his other hand and wrapping it around yours.

Suddenly he’s getting down on a knee, pulling out a ring box. You shake your head rapidly, not believing what you’re watching.

“Y/n, you are my princess, my soulmate and my other half. This kingdom would be unbearable without you, it would be the most boring place in the galaxy. I see colors brighter, feel things more clearly and feel like a better man than I am when you are around me. Please, do me the greatest of honors and marry me.” He gives his little speech, smiling up at you with the look of lust and love in his eyes.

“No.” You breathe, staring down at him.

“W-what?” Loki asks, a frown etched on his face.

“I said no! You cannot... guilt trip me into staying here, nor can you just propose to me to prove a point or to distract me for my choices. You... you can’t just tie me down like this. I’m not going to give up on my hopes, nor on my dreams to suit you.” You scoff, stepping back from him.

“You have to! You have to because I say so and as I am crowned prince of Asgard, you must obey!” He cries angrily, getting up off the ground quickly and moving closer to you.

You stare at him with pure disgust and disbelief in your eyes. “You may be the crowned prince but you cannot force me to obey you by any means!” You shout back in his face, breathing heavy with fury. “If you insist I must then you’ll have to throw me in the dungeons because I’d rather rot down there for the rest of my life than marry the man I’m seeing before me right now!” You snark again, tears burning your eyes.

His face contorts into a sickly grin, one that sends horrible goosebumps up your spine.

Holdin’ on, the days drag on

Stupid girl, I should’ve know, I should’ve known

“You truly mean that, do you? You would rather die without a smidge of dignity, stripped down to nothing but a caged animal in the deepest part of Asgard’s darkest, coldest dungeons than marry your beloved?” He asks, inching closer to you.

“You are not my beloved. It would seem you have killed whatever’s left of him.” You growl coldly, turning your back to him.

He laughs a cold and hollow laugh. “You do not get to walk away from me!” He bellows and you remember exactly where his temper came from.

“Yes I do and I will.” You say calmly, your stubborn nature kicking in.

“Trust you to act like a coward in a time of need for bravery.” He sneers.

You swerve back around, snapping your head in his direction.

“Continuing this useless argument with you has nothing to do with bravery Loki. It’s stupidity. And you are being irrational. I can’t talk to you like this. So yes, I’m walking away. But believe me when I say that that is the brave choice in this situation.” You explain, staring straight into his steely grey eyes.

“You said you loved me! You said we were meant to be! You said we were soulmates the universe and the gods decided were meant for each other and only each other. Did you mean one word of it?” He asks, a sad and desperate smile on his lips.

“I- of course I did Loki. I meant every word of what I’ve said to you.” You promise, tears streaming down your own features. His slender and delicate fingers gently reach up, brushing them away with his thumb, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

“Then why are you insisting on leaving me?” He asks, his voice more broken than you’d ever thought possible.

“I don’t belong here Loki. I’m destined for other things and meant to be or not, I cannot truly commit myself to being your princess, to being your forever if it means not exploring that destiny.” You say softly, resting your forehead on his chest longingly.

It’s taking all of your strength to fight the urge to wrap your arms tightly around him and agree to what he’s asking just to see his smile return but you manage.

You know this relationship could never be healthy if you couldn’t commit to it with all of your heart and soul. And if it couldn’t be healthy, you didn’t want to put either of you through that. You couldn’t handle that pain.

That I’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale

I’m not the one you’ll sweep off her feet, lead her up the stairwell

“Loki. You have to let me go my own way.” You sigh, glancing up at him.

He says nothing, turning himself away from you.

“I cannot do that. I literally cannot bring myself to do that. Either you stay or I am merely nothing to you. That is how it will be.” He states after taking a shaky breath.

“Loki you can’t possibly expect me to make that decision!” You cry out, mouth agape in shock.

“It is the decision that must be made. If I mean anything to you at all, you would stay and rule by my side.” He says.

“It isn’t that simple Loki! I can’t just choose you because I love you.” You groan, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“And why not? Because it is easier to run away from me, run from what it is we have than to be with me? I am fully aware of that fact y/n, it has burdened me all my life!” He bursts out, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

“No! You do not get to play the left as a baby card right now Loki because you know it is not like that at all! You know I harbour nothing but love for you! It is not a simple choice I’m making right now!” You argue, shaking your head.

“What did you expect me to say exactly y/n? I am not going to stand here and blatantly lie to your face and say I agree with your choice in departure nor that I am ok with it!” He shouts louder. “I refuse to let you leave! I refuse it, ok? You cannot leave Asgard, I will forbid Heimdall from allowing you to go if that is what I must do but you will not leave me like this!” He snaps, his face one of rage and possessiveness as he makes his way to the doorway and out towards the bridge to the gate to the realms.

“You can’t do that to me!” You cry, racing after him to stop him. You scramble to get in front of him, laying your palms against his chest to keep him from moving any further.

“Remove yourself from my path darling.” He warns, staring you down. Still, you remain in your spot.

“Not a chance dearest.” You growl back mockingly.

This ain’t Hollywood, this is a small town

I was a dreamer before you went and let me down

He picks you up carefully by the arms, moving you behind him effortlessly.

“If you do this I will never forgive you! I will not only leave you, I will never speak to you again. Not even if you hold one of your swords to my throat to force the words out yourself.” You shout after him, your voice void of any emotions other than pure, white, hot rage.

He pauses in the middle of the bifrost, looking at you, testing the truth behind your words as he analyzes your stance.

He meets your eyes, your big y/e/c showcasing every bit of vulnerability within you in that moment for him to see. He had a knack for that it seemed, seeing everything about you no matter how much you tried to hide it.

He knew you like the back of his hand. Normally, you felt safe and protected with that.

Now you just felt hatred for the eyes baring into your soul.

“You will forgive me someday. I am sure of it.” He says quietly, smiling softly at you.

He leaves you there on the bridge, falling to your knees with a small sob.

Deep down you knew he was just scared. Scared you would somehow be hurt or taken or used as a weapon of some sort and he wouldn’t be there to come to your rescue.

But that didn’t matter. You didn’t want your knight in shining armour. You only wanted to be free.

Now it’s too late for you and your white horse

To come around

————————————————————

A few nights later...

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had paced back and forth in your room, biting down your nails out of stress and anger and the need to concentrate. Your hair was a mess, you refused to change into any of the clothes you were given, staying stubbornly in your outfit from the few nights ago instead.

Since your meltdown on the Bifrost, Loki had brought you back to the palace, stroked your hair as he tried to talk you down, calm you. It had worked, much to your dismay. You’d woken up in a foreign room and upon an attempt to leave, you found that you were being kept there.

Loki was treating you like a prisoner. He was being true to the Midgardian fairytale Rapunzel he’d once read to you in the gardens, you’d thought to yourself the first day.

“Loki, let me out of here!” You screamed desperately that day, pounding on the door until your fists ached. Crying and shrieking in hopes someone would help you.

He again, came and talked you down, holding you as you sobbed. You were a wreck, you couldn’t comprehend how your sweet, kind eyed Loki had become this monster who kept you like a toy or trophy rather than his equal, his true love.

Somehow though, you believed he was in there, crying to get out and be the one to hold you in his arms and let you go. You imagined staring into his eyes, kissing him, promising you’d be there for him no matter how far you were. It was driving you crazy, trying to flip between the Loki you’d known all this time and the one you were with now.

Maybe I was naive,

Got lost in your eyes

You’d managed to calm yourself most of the time, you’d managed to talk him out of the crazy idea of keeping you under lock and key. Even this new Loki seemed to realize it was too much, too inhuman and cruel. He apologized for having done it in the first place and you merely nodded, staying true to your promise to him. You weren’t speaking to him anytime soon, if at all.

You instead stayed in his room, staying by his side when he wasn’t taking care of his duties.

You knew he was wrong. You knew he was being awful and possessive and downright toxic but still, you couldn’t imagine not being with him. You couldn’t imagine it but you knew it was a terrible idea to willingly stay. It wasn’t what was right for you.

You stayed in bed most of the day, trying not to feel the ache for his touch in your chest the way you were now. And when you weren’t, you were standing on the balcony, watching out at Asgard. You may not love living there but you still believed it was beautiful regardless.

That was how Loki found you that evening, in a robe on the balcony, staring down at the city.

“It is beautiful with the sunset is it not?” He says calmly from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

You nod a bit, not bothering to turn around to face him.

You hear him moving closer but you pay no attention, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You are truly not going to talk to me?” He asks with a sigh.

You shake your head, resting your chin in your palm as you watched the sky become as golden as the palace itself as the sunset.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair from what you can see in the corner of your eyes.

You were taking your time, balancing your options on the invisible scale in your mind. You wanted to be held by him and trust him again but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him have it all. Not after what he’d done. You silently decided that letting him struggle, torturing him with your silence was your best play.

And never really had a chance

My mistake, I didn’t know to be in love

You had to fight to have the upper hand

Your long term plan for yourself was yet to be determined. Loki’s kindness and love for you was blinding you, making it impossible to concentrate on your thoughts, much less make them coherent.

You brush past him, ignoring his begging gaze as you go into the bathroom and shut the door behind you, getting in the shower. You let the water run down your hair, getting it wet while your mind starts to clear up a bit and you finally know exactly what you have to do for your sake.

You finish, getting redressed before going back into the room, ignoring the princes longing eyes as you climb into the bed, facing away from him.

“Alright, that is enough already y/n.” He sighs, pulling the blankets off of you. You jump up in shock, staring at him blankly. “I know you are mad at me however I only did this for us, my love!” He insists.

You scoff, abandoning your former decision completely. “You did absolutely NOTHING for us here Loki. You did this for you. You did this because you’re scared.” You argue back, your days of pent up anger at him thankful for a release.

“I did not! I did it to protect you, to keep us from falling apart!” He shouts.

“Please! Loki I am begging you to at least admit to yourself that you did none of this for my protection!” You cry, staring him right in the eye.

His breathing is heavy and jagged, he’s panicking, this much you knew. “I-I would never do anything regarding you for my own selfish gain.” He says calmly.

“But you did Loki. You did everything to do with this for YOUR gain.” You sob, tears covering your cheeks.

“I-I love you Loki. I truly, painfully do. But I cannot be with anyone who would regard me as some sort of trophy. I will not do it.” You continue, your lip trembling as you speak.

“I never- I never meant for it to get this far... I merely wanted to keep the one thing I’ve truly loved in my life safe. I wanted us to spend forever together, side by side.” He says, his voice so low and quiet you have to strain to hear it properly.

“I-I know.” You stammer, gulping in a breath between tearful gasps. And you did know. He was your other half, there was no way you didn’t think of the future with him in the same way he did. You just didn’t always treat it the same.

I had so many dreams

About you and me

“Please- please forgive me darling. I cannot apologize enough for the chaos and- and the harm and trauma I put you through these past few days. I was no better than my father himself. I was truly a monster.” He says, his eyes once again filled with unshed tears.

You nod lightly. “Okay.” You say quietly, meeting his eyes.

“W-what?” He asks, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“You heard me. Okay. I forgive you.” You say simply.

“J-just like that?” He says, still not convinced.

You force a laugh, continuing with your small charade. “Yes just like that. You’re my true love, I could never stay mad at you for too long Loki.” You say with a small smile.

He smiles back, pulling you into a hug. “Oh my darling you have no idea how grateful I am for your forgiveness.” He murmurs into your ear. You hesitantly hug back, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“Always.” You promise quietly. “As much as I love sharing a room with you though Loki, I think I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight if that’s alright.” You ask, blinking at him innocently.

He nods repeatedly in agreement. “Of course my love. Whatever you wish.” He promises, standing and offering you a hand. You take it in your own, getting to your feet yourself.

The two of you walk around talking for a few hours, making you glad for the fresh air and mind numbingly silent atmosphere. He holds your hand tight, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I think I need some sleep my love. I’m feeling kind of tired.” You say with a small yawn. Without hesitation he walks you to your room, making sure you’re good for the night and that everything is to your likings.

“Loki, everything is fine. Go. I’ll be fine.” You groan exhaustedly. He sighs in defeat, standing in the doorway.

“Ok but I will be here in the morning in case you need me. Goodnight my love.” He says, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You nod with a tiny smile, knowing that by morning you wouldn’t be there for him to help.

Once he’s finally gone, you change into something more comfortable and a little more inconspicuous, grabbing a few of your things and tossing them into a bag. You scramble to write a quick note to your family so they aren’t left entirely in the dark with all that’s happening and you ensure that the door is locked to buy yourself more time.

You climb out the window, gulping as you feel yourself dangling from so high up but making your climb down to the ground floor of the castle.

You felt guilt for leaving Loki so quickly and hastily but you knew it was for the best. You weren’t meant for any kind of fairytale life and staying with him while he was so controlling and had become so dark wasn’t a valid option for you. You wanted to live life, not struggle through it.

And so, you made a small jump to the ground and ran down the shimmering bifrost, running to the gates and off into the night alone.

Happy endings

Now I know...

104 notes · View notes

allycryz · 4 years

Text

WOL Challenge #3: You

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompt List Here]

Haurchefant x Nerys, set immediately after Ardent [Ao3 Link]

Heavensward, right after Inquisition trial and before “Keeping the Flame Alive”

Rating: T for off-screen sex, sex talk

~*This is 2K words, most of it is fluff and I revel in it*~

The Fortemps library is a grand one. Haurchefant is not certain how it compares–he has only been in Haillenarte's with Francel–but imagines it is the finest in Ishgard. His father is a man of letters, a true believer in the power of words. And one who expected his sons to follow suit.

His education differed greatly from his brothers’ the day he became a knight’s page. Even still, his lord father sent him monthly parcels of books. He was expected to read them all and send detailed reports on the contents. Had he ever kept up his thaumaturgy studies, he would have been hard-pressed to find the time.

As it was, he’d stayed up often to fit in the poetry and novels not on the list. Count Edmont was a modern man and his syllabus reflected this–vetted popular authors and poets made it into the parcels. Never in the quantity Haurchefant would have liked. And never some of the one-gil books he bought in The Pillars.

When he was a boy, there were songs for sale about body functions and noises; exaggerated tales of heroes fighting all manner of beasts and foes. As a youth, these became long, violent epics of battles and bravery. As a young man: lurid poems and explicit romance novels. Some as grand and sweeping as the classical romances his Father promoted. Some were not.

He has managed to introduce some contemporary poets into the collection. Not all. Edmont’s tastes in poetry run more traditional. Some of the rising stars of the field are roundly rejected.

Haurchefant is working on that.

Today, he feels romantic in both classic and literal senses. And as his Father has ordered him to stay for a day and night, indulging in a novel sounds just the thing. It seems that getting trapped in a blizzard–even if things had gone fine, more than fine–means your noble father turns to such decrees.

At least, that is what it means now they are growing close, as they never had been. Another miracle Nerys has wrought with her coming. And as Haurchefant has full faith in Corentiaux and the rest...he allows himself to be thus ordered.

Someone else is in the library. He can sense it soon as he enters. A soldier learns to tell when others are near, even in safe environs such as this. Haurchefant softens his footfalls, peering about the shelves. There, in the alcove reserved for study, he finds the source of today’s romantic mood.

Nerys looks up, eyes turning soft. His heart swells in his chest, his mouth cannot help but smile. It’s unstoppable and he does not ever want it to cease. Was it really only yesterday? That she told me my love was returned?

It seems a dream now, albeit the sweetest one he has ever had.

Her hands sweep at the papers she has laid out, pulling them into a stack. Flips over the one on top. “Hello.”

“Hello, my dear.” How nice to call her that. “I thought you were on a shopping expedition with Emmanellain?”

“I was.” She touches her neckline. So caught up in her eyes, he hadn’t noticed the gown she wore.

Scarlet as the unicorn on his shield, set off with dangling garnets in her ears. The heart-shaped neckline shows off her elegant neck and collar bones. The sleeves are slashed to reveal white fabric beneath and the cuffs have delicate pearls. “I found this. For when I’m here at the manor and not about to fight Inquisitors or dragons.”

“You are breathtaking in it.” He circles the table to take her hand. Bows over it before pressing his mouth to her knuckles. Etiquette demands he should kiss the air above it but surely exceptions are made for lovers.

She is my lover now, he thinks in wonder. Her cheeks stain with a fetching indigo shade. “My lord is kind.”

Haurchefant drops to one knee before his lady and turns her hand. Her palm is just as lovely to kiss. “Your lord means everything he says. But if you require further proof of my ardor…”

Nerys darts a glance about before tilting up his chin. Her kiss is sweet and soft and not a little heated. Would that he might lay her upon the table in this temple of learning and know her better.

Alas, Nerys has asked for discretion. Time to better acquaint themselves as lovers before declaring themselves. They are still friends–always will be, if he has anything to do with it–but this dynamic is new and strange. Haurchefant can understand why the most public figure in Eorzea might want some measure of privacy.

Though, he reflects as he parts from her. Half the fun would be keeping quiet and avoiding discovery.

“I know that look,” she says. “You’re thinking of something lascivious.”

“When I had this look before I confessed, what did you think it meant?”

“The same,” she admits. “But that your love of innuendo was good-natured teasing.”

He heaves a sigh. Either he is not as obvious as Estinien always accuses him or she’d been in deep, deep denial. “Dearest love, how-”

The library doors bang open and the culprit whistles as he walks inside. Haurchefant rises, knowing exactly who it is before he comes into view.

“Old Girl! Old Man!” Emmanellain grins. “You didn’t tell me we were having a party in the library.”

“Impetuous Youth,” Haurchefant shoots back. “What if one of us was deep in study?”

“Oh I don’t deal in ‘what-ifs’. You two are having a conversation, not studying; ergo all is well.”

“He has a point. I think,” says Nerys. “By the by, if Haurchefant is ‘Old Man’, what do you call your eldest brother?”

The two men exchange looks. Smile. Say in unison, “Artoirel.”

Nerys groans and flaps both hands at them in dismissal. “Go fetch whatever you two were looking for. I am actually working on something.”

“Am I to be banished for my baby brother’s crimes?” Haurchefant presses a hand to his heart. “Mistress Eluned, you wound me.”

“If I must be quiet and meek like a mouse, so must you. After all, I am the true leader of our brotherly trio.”

“You are right of course. I could never compare to you.” Haurchefant shakes his head. “Very well, Impetuous Youth. As mice scurry to cheese, let us go to the books we seek.”

“Ordered to seek,” Emmanellian mutters. “I’m to review Ymbelet’s Theorem of Command and deliver a report. As if we hadn’t put our schooling well behind us.”

Haurchefant does his best to soothe his brother. They quiet down at last: the younger man taking his volume off to his chambers, the elder settling into an armchair within eyesight of Nerys. (Far enough away that she may stop hiding her work.)

His novel is a work of popular fiction he’d garnered approval to stock here. No erotic scenes, but romantic enough. Should he ever get his eyes to stay on the page.

Alas, the white-haired sorcerer-king and his beloved princess and his soul-eating sword are no match for the Warrior of Light. The curve of her cheek. The braided coronet of purple and white hair, crowning her while the rest of her curls are a lovely raiment over her shoulders. The quirk to her dark, sweet lips.

She lifts those golden eyes, meeting him. If he were not already lovestruck and bedazzled, that gaze would ensnare him. He smiles and lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Haurchefant isn’t sorry for lingering before a sunset; and that natural wonder is naught in comparison.

“My lord,” says Nerys, her voice carrying. “May I help you?”

“Nay, Mistress.” He shakes his head. “Simply exist as you are and I am satisfied.”

That is when Alphinaud bursts in, looking drawn and pale. If Haurchefant is annoyed at another interruption, that vanishes at the sight. He jumps to his feet. “My lad! Are you alright?”

The youth shakes his head. “Nerys. Tataru has grave news about General Aldynn. We must be off at once.”

She rises, hurrying over in a rush of white and red silk. In an instant she has changed from playfulness to resolute determination. Always ready to become The Warrior, his Nerys.

“Do you require anything?” He asks them. “You know my sword is yours, as is any resource at our disposal.”

Alphnaud shakes his head. “No one must see us enter Thanalan or leave. As soon as we cross back into Coerthas, we’ll send word.”

“I thank you. If you needs must bring the General somewhere safe, Camp Dragonhead’s doors are open to you.” If he must return to his command rather than fight at her side, at least he might be of some use to her. He loves–truly loves–his role but lately, his dearest wish is to be a shield at her back and a sword in her arsenal.

Ah, well, even Sorcerer-Kings do not get all they want. Why should he?

He dips into a sweeping bow to them both. Alphinaud returns it before rushing out, every emotion writ upon his usually perfect diplomat’s mask. Should the General die, the youth will carry it as he does everything else that occurred with the Braves. Haurchefant sends a prayer to Halone, asking for mercy on him.

Nerys takes his hand. Squeezes it. He squeezes it back. She smiles before picking up her skirts and rushing afterward.

It proves impossible to focus after that, even more than before. For a moment he entertains armoring up and following. This isn’t Dragonhead and so none of the knights with orders to keep him safe are here. (That time with Iceheart, Corentiaux had actually sat upon him.)

But they have asked he stay behind. So he will.

Haurchefant can take care of Nerys’ papers for her. He means to pointedly not look at the contents. He truly does. But he sees a piece of paper with his name on top, another with his last name, and his resolve crumbles.

The first piece of paper is titled “Minako” in large, neat letters. Beneath are names like Mamoru, Umino, Motoki. Her Yellow Chocobo is named Minako. Therefore, this is for…

The next sheet of paper confirms his suspicions. Under the heading “Black Chocobo” are the names Endymion, Starlight, Twilight, Onyx. Below that, a subheading “Elegance” with virtue monikers: Noble, Dignity, Charming.

And so, when he arrives to the last three papers (titled “Haurchefant”, “Greystone”, and “Fortemps”), he cannot contain his joy. The little note scribbled atop “Haurchefant” tickles him further. He gave you the Chocobo and you adore him. Will he be offended? He might be offended.

Haurchefant is certainly not offended.

He delights in the candidates, even some of the ones she crossed out. Sadly, there is no option for “Haurchefant” or “Haurchefant II.” I suppose that might get confusing.

Grinning, he picks up her leather folio and tucks her work inside. Hopefully, she will forgive his snooping because he has some ideas about this.

The Lord Commander’s bed at Camp Dragonhead may be the most comfortable place in Eorzea.

Nerys should get up to clean, brush her teeth, all the little nighttime rituals. But she is so pleasantly exhausted and the blankets are so soft and warm. She stretches, luxuriating in the feel of them against her skin. It has been a harrowing few days since her abrupt departure from Ishgard. But all is well and now, she feels nothing but comfort.

The bed could be warmer with her companion. But then she wouldn’t get to see his bare bottom as he slips into the bathroom. Halone must adore him to bless him with such a lovely rear.

“My love,” he calls after a while. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh? Should I be worried?”

“I hope not.” He returns with a washcloth, his black silk robe barely closed against the cold. The fireplace sends flickers of light across his sculpted chest. “I may be overstepping but...I must say that I truly adore the name Grey. Though Tempsy is charming. Also, may I suggest Haurchon?”

What does he...oh. Oh! Nerys groans and buries her face in a pillow. She had been in such haste to rescue Raubahn–rightfully so!–that she had left all her papers there. All face up, all in the open.

The mattress dips as Haurchefant sits beside her. One hand strokes her hair, gentle and sweet. “I should not have pried but Nerys–my dearest one–I am utterly and truly touched by the idea. Though of course, if you pick a different name I will not be offended.”

“I only...well, I wouldn’t have him if not for you,” she mutters into the pillow, heat filling her face. “And if not for him, we wouldn’t have been in Coerthas that day.”

“So we owe him a great honor, for bringing us together at last.” His lips press against her bare shoulder. “Of course, the truest honor would be to name him after yourself-”

She turns then, mortification at last leaving her. Cups his face in her hands. “I am not playing this game where we go on for hours about who is better. Let’s agree it’s you and end it there.”

“Oh my love,” he sighs, bending down to her. “Though you are wrong, I must obey if it proves to you the depth of my regard.”

“I know another way you could prove it,” she says, pulling him atop her.

Grey likes his name.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant x wol #emmanellain de fortemps #Alphinaud Leveilleur #they're cute!#I love them #I love writing him when he's in love #and he is so often in love #:3 #ally writes

22 notes · View notes

idnek83 · 4 years

Text

First Christmas

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham

Tags: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Lots of causal smooching, No Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair

Summary: Soda and Gundham get ready for their first Christmas together. It's not much, and they definitely spent too much on questionable decorations, but, somehow, it's still perfect.

Read on Ao3

__________________

Christmas with Gundham was… different.

Neither of them had come from families where Christmas had been a huge thing. Soda was used to a discount tree and mismatched ornaments, some of which he had made himself with spare parts from the shop. As far as presents went, he usually got some new socks or something else practical, and, on years where his parents had the money to spare, a new screwdriver or wrench to add to his personal collection.

He had never woken up to piles of perfectly wrapped presents under an equally perfect tree, but he always enjoyed the day as a kid.

He had asked Gundham what his own Christmases had been like growing up, and between his eccentric words, Soda had gathered that they had had somewhat similar experiences: modest decorations and practical gifts.

The biggest difference appeared to be the “abhorrent feast” Gundham’s mother would serve every year.

“The angle who bore me created such fierce dishes; they would cause the toxins in my body to become so concentrated I could hardly withstand them myself.”

Soda cringed at the idea of spending every Christmas sick to your stomach, but couldn’t help but be touched by the idea of Gundham forcing himself to eat whatever his mother served him just so he wouldn’t hurt her feelings.

Soda usually just had take-out for Christmas, it was one of his favourite parts of the holiday.

But like he said, Christmas with was different.

At some point in November the topic had come up, and the two of them had started making plans for how they wanted to spend their first Christmas together.

They ended up going tree shopping at the beginning of December.

A little pop-up tree shop had shown up just down the street from their little apartment, and when Soda had seen it, he ran home and excitedly grabbed Gundham. He began to ramble about how he wanted to get the biggest, fullest tree he could carry, sweeping Gundham up into his arms as he did as if to demonstrate. Gundham had just laughed at him and allowed himself to be carried as Soda began to sing random bits of Christmas songs off key and dance around the apartment.

“While I am enjoying this ritual, my beloved, I do not see how it will procure us a tree.”

Soda blushed and place Gundham back on the ground, looking slightly embarrassed and, in Gundham’s opinion, very cute.

“Shall we?” Gundham reached for his boyfriend’s hand and moved to the door, watching as Soda immediately perked back up.

“Hell yeah.”

They made the short trek to the tree shop, Soda gushing about the amazing tree they were going to get the whole way. However, once they arrived and Soda actually got a look at the price tags on those big, full, amazing trees, his face fell. He knew they were expensive, but damn, they were really expensive.

Gundham had picked up on his disappointment, and began doing his best to make excuses for why the ‘amazing’ trees were actually subpar; a hole here, a strange lump there, and branches to weak to hold “proper seasonal embellishments” all over the place. Soda knew exactly what Gundham was doing, but just nodded along and squeezed his hand a little tighter as they looked for a more reasonably priced tree.

They ended up finding one that was somewhat sparse, but it was tall and had a good shape to it and, most importantly, was in their budget. After paying, Soda made quite the show of lifting it himself, hoisting it over his shoulder and flexing his free arm in an exaggerated manner to make Gundham smile.

It had been a little trouble getting it through the narrow halls of their apartment building, but a few minutes later, they had it set up in a corner of their home, undecorated but bringing a festive feeling to the space all the same.

Gundham noticed Soda’s previous bravado had died down and he was alternating between glancing up at the tree and down his hand where he was absentmindedly rubbing at some sap.

“What is wrong, dearest consort? Does this tree no longer please you?”

“N-no, it’s just… Well, I guess I just feel kinda dumb? I made a big deal about getting us the perfect tree and-“

“And you succeeded in doing so.” Gundham placed a hand on Soda’s cheek and kissed him. He was used to his boyfriend’s tendency to doubt himself, but that didn’t mean he was just going to let him do it. “Perhaps this tree has more space between its limbs than you had wished, but that will only make it easier for us to adorn it as we see fit.” He wrapped and arm around Soda’s waist and drew him closer, hand still on his cheek. “We shall create the most formidable display with it, we will be the envy of all who gaze upon it, and all will know us to be true masters of these yuletide rituals.”

Soda began to laugh as Gundham kissed him again.

“You’re right man, we’re gonna decorate this tree so good that it makes all our friend’s want to throw their trash trees out.” He finally returned Gundham’s kisses, and they both decided to spend the rest of the evening in their bedroom.

“We should probably buy some ornaments soon, starting to feel weird just having a naked tree in the corner.

After a very pleasant evening, Soda and Gundham had decided it best to leave decorating the tree for the next day, only to realise in the morning that neither of them actually owned Christmas decorations.

The weather had been bad that day, so they put off shopping. However, a week had now gone by and the tree remained bare.

“You are right, my love.” Gundham stroked Soda’s messy hair and kissed his forehead. “Should we wait too long, we may find an inadequate selection as well.”

Soda untangled himself from Gundham’s arms and the blanket he had thrown over them once they had finished making love on the couch.

“We could probably do it now, if you’re feeling up to it?” Soda waggled his eyebrows at Gundham.

“You know full well it takes plenty more to render me immobile.” Gundham flashed a smirk, half humorous and half suggestive.

Before Soda could get to wrapped up in the thoughts of the last time he had immobilized Gundham, making him scream over and over until he was too tired to move, Gundham stood up. He began to dress himself, laughing and tossing Soda his boxers when he noticed his boyfriend getting excited again.

“There will be plenty of time for that later, dear consort, but for now, the tree demands adornment.”

They had dressed, much to Soda’s disappointment, and headed to the store.

Once they had arrived Soda wished they had put off shopping for an entirely new reason. There were just so many options. If they had waited and there really had been fewer ornaments available, then at least I would be easier to make a choice.

Soda looked to Gundham, but he looked just as overwhelmed by the selection. There were aisles upon aisles lined with various Christmas decorations, and at lest two appeared to be solely dedicated to tree ornaments.

They shared a look before heading down an aisle at random, hoping they would know what they wanted when they saw it.

It had been at least 20 minutes. Soda and Gundham had walked up each aisle a number of times and Soda was starting to feel exhausted. They should probably just grab something at this point. The only thing He had really manage to decide was that he liked the gold ornaments best, but that still left way too many options.

“Gundham, I’m going to die if we don’t pick something soon. Please, just grab something and lets go.”

“If you are sure…” Gundham glanced at the closest shelf, considering the selection for half a second before grabbing a box of gold and silver ornaments. “Do these suit your desires?”

Soda loved Gundham so much. “Yes. Beautiful. I love you. Let’s leave now.” Soda kissed Gundham and took the box from his hands. He moved to leave but caught Gundham glancing to a shelf just a little further down the aisle.

Soda turned to see what Gundham was looking at. It took a moment, Soda was at the point where all of the ornaments were starting to look the same, but he was pretty sure he knew which set Gundham was looking at.

He walked over to the shelf and picked up the box of all black ornaments.

“These ones too then.” He proudly proclaimed and begin to walk towards the tills.

“Dearest… you do not have to do that. I understand my taste can be a bit… ostentatious…” Soda knew Gundham sometimes got a little embarrassed about how much he liked anything that looked dark and/or mysterious, but he also knew his boyfriend genuinely enjoyed that stuff too.

So he just squinted at Gundham and reached for a second box of black ornaments before finally heading for the tills.

Gundham chased after him, obviously a bit flustered. He kept muttering apologies and telling Soda he really didn’t need the ornaments until they finally made it home.

Once the door shut behind them, Soda took Gundham’s face in both his hands and kissed him.

“Done apologizing? Get it out of your system?” He stared at Gundham until he nodded. “Good. Cus I love you and your stupid goth style, and I think these ornaments are fucking sweet.” Soda kissed him again. “Gonna have the most badass tree anyone’s ever seen.”

Gundham was smiling again, a soft embarrassed smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Shall we begin then?”

An hour later Soda had to admit that 3 boxes or ornaments may have been too many, but the tree looked awesome and he wasn’t going to complain.

Covered from top to bottom in black, with accents of gold and silver and some warm white lights in between, the tree was a sight to behold. Yeah, it looked extra as hell, but Soda really did think it looked badass. Hell, even if he had hated it, it would have been worth it to see the look on Gundham’s face.

Gundham was openly smiling at the tree, looking as happy as he had been on the day Soda had admitted his feelings to him, and it was making his heart melt.

Soda wrapped his arms around Gundham from behind, and hummed into his shoulder.

“Y’know you really do have good taste, babe.” He couldn’t help but playfully bite at Gundham’s neck, making him laugh a little. “You fell in love with me after all.” He blew a raspberry into Gundham’s neck and they both dissolved into a puddle of smiles and laughter.

It was tacky. Soda knew it was tacky, and he picked up a back up just in case Gundham hated it, but he couldn’t resist it.

He had been out looking for a tree topper, probably some kind of star since neither of them were religious and an angle would look out of place on their tree, which had been “imbued with dark and mysterious energies.” And he really had planned on finding a nice star, preferably a gold one with some black accents or something to match the rest of the tree, but then he saw it.

The tree topper was a hamster. It’s arms and legs were spread wide, so it was vaguely star shaped, and it was dressed like Santa. Soda had choked when he saw it. Then he immediately bought it, grabbing a more generic looking gold star only after he broke out of his ‘buying-a-stupid-thing-Gundham-might-hate-but-might-also-love’ haze.

Now, standing at in front of the door to their apartment, Soda felt unbelievably stupid. It had just been a dumb waste of money. Gundham was gonna hate it and make Soda sleep on the couch for the night to make him think about what he had done. Ok, well, whatever. He’d just show Gundham the back up star and return the hamster later, he never even had to know about it.

He entered their apartment and the tension in his body immediately began to fade. Gundham was in the kitchen, humming along to Christmas music and pulling something out of the oven that smelled like it might be gingerbread. He turned and smiled at Soda before returning to what he was doing.

Soda set down his bag and started taking off his winter gear. While he was hanging his jacket, he heard Gundham approach him.

“Did you find an adequate decoration, dearest?” He placed a slightly flour covered hand on Soda’s shoulder and bent to kiss his cheek.

“Mmhm, it’s in the bag-” Shit. He kicked off his boots as fast as he could and turned. “Wait, Gundham-“

“Oh, this is magnificent. Excellent choice, my beloved, dark consort.” Thank Hamster Jesus, Gundham had pulled the normal star from the bag. “Hmm? What else did you-” Soda retracted his thanks from Hamster Jesus, he could rot in Hamster Hell.

Gundham gently set the gold star down as he starred in horror at the abomination that was the hamster Santa star.

“Look, Gundham, I can explain. I just-”

Gundham burst out laughing. He clutched the Hamster Santa to his chest and absolutely cackled.

“Uh, Gundham?”

Soda watched in horror as he witnessed what he could only assume was Gundham snapping and going absolutely bat-shit insane. He had doubled over and fallen to his knees, still laughing so hard that Soda was sure he couldn’t breathe.

“Babe?”

Gundham took a deep, shaky breath and wiped tears from his eyes before setting Hamster Santa to the side and extending a hand so Soda could help him up.

At least, that’s what Soda had thought he wanted.

Gundham pulled his boyfriend to the ground with him, expertly rolling Soda onto his back and pinning him below him. Gundham bent to kiss all over Soda’s face, laughing a little again.

“Um, so…” Soda was at a loss for words. Had he broke his boyfriend with the shitty star or-

“I love it. It is terrible and I do not believe I have ever loved an object more.” Gundham laughed a little and sat back on his knees, reaching for Hamster Santa again and allowing Soda to sit up. He turned it in his hands and chuckled.

“Uh, really? You sure it’s not too, uh, tacky?” Soda smiled a little and placed a hand on Gundham’s thigh.

“Oh, it is incredibly tacky. Were I freed from this mortal shell and once more able to access the full depths of my dark power, I still do not believe I would be able to find any object more so.” Soda frowned, but Gundham kissed him again. “And yet, it brings me great joy to think you saw this and thought ‘what better gift could there be to bring my beloved, than an abomination which depicts a fusion one of his most cherished dark beasts with the blasphemous idol of a once holy day.’” Gundham laughed again and patted Hamster Santa with more affection than it really deserved.

“Uh, yup, my exact thoughts, word for word.” ‘Hamster funny, give Gundham’ was close enough to what Gundham had said, right? “But really, we don’t have to put that one on the tree, we can just put it somewhere else, or return it, or-“

“This beast will adorn the most honored spot on our tree, and I will not hear otherwise.”

“But won’t it kinda ruin the, like, aesthetic?”

“It will make the aesthetic, my love, and we will place it immediately.” Gundham stood and pulled Soda up with him, giving him another kiss on his forehead before pulling him to the tree by his hand. He proudly handed Hamster Santa to Soda. “Do the honours, my dearest.”

Soda grimaced as he was handed the tacky decoration, he really didn’t want to ruin their tree, and besides-

“I can’t reach the top of the tree, where’s the-” He was cut off by Gundham wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him into the air. Soda couldn’t help but laugh, he liked being picked up by Gundham almost as he liked picking him up. “Fine then, have it your way.” He (gently) slammed Hamster Santa on top of the tree and crossed his arms defiantly, playing up his fake annoyance.

Only to lose any semblance of actual irritation when Gundham hoisted him slightly higher and threw him over his broad shoulder. Soda let out and incredibly manly squawk as Gundham patted him on the ass.

“Thank you, my consort, allow me to express my deepest gratitude.” Gundham’s voice had taken a very familiar tone, slightly deeper than it already was, and Soda found he no longer wanted to protest as Gundham carried him to their bedroom.

Christmas day had, admittedly, been fairly similar to the Christmases Soda had growing up. No giant pile under the tree, and mostly practical presents. Emphasis on mostly, Soda thought as he leaned back against Gundham’s chest on the couch in his reindeer onesie. Gundham wore a matching one. It hadn’t been planned, they had both bought each other the same stupid onesie complexly by coincidence, and they had both lost their shit laughing when they opened them at the same time as well.

Even if the day itself hadn’t been all that noteworthy, Soda couldn’t happen but think this was the best Christmas he had ever had. The chaos leading up to it had been so new to him, but he already cherished the memories he had been able to make with Gundham. The tree hadn’t been the full, perfect one from his dreams, but decked out in their badass gold, black, and silver ornaments and topped with sweet, tacky, little Hamster Santa, Soda knew it was definitely more memorable.

The gifts hadn’t been huge, or extravagant, or expensive like the ones he saw in movies growing up, but they had been thoughtful and full of love and even a little silly. Soda couldn’t think of anything he would have rather received.

He leaned his head back against Gundham’s shoulder, and his boyfriend kissed him without looking away from the book he was reading. Soda let out a contented sigh.

Sitting in Gundham’s arms, surrounded by their questionable decorations and thoughtful gifts, and wearing stupid matching onesies.

This was a perfect Christmas.

#Soudam #Soda kazuichi #gundham tanaka #Soda/Gundham #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #christmas fic #My writing #It's still christmas here don't judge me

19 notes · View notes

magistralucis · 4 years

Note

lib sebinsky/at a party/you pick also side note I Love U💟💟💟💟💟💟

At a party, celebrating // Lib Sebinsky

———————

When the hour is nigh you rise to your feet and gesture for your Captain to join you outside. He seems surprised, but complies, letting the door fall shut; the conversations of the evening fade behind it, and you are left alone together, snowy moonlight drifting past your feet. "Sebastian. Something wrong?"

“No... it couldn’t be further away from wrong.”

Twenty to midnight. This is it. You take a deep breath, pull out a small box from your pocket, and lower yourself on one knee.

“This was a very long time coming.”

Your Captain gasps and stares at you in disbelief. Your smile, faintly bashful, perhaps even chastised - but above all, honest. Surprising how it took you both so long, and around such complicated paths, to convey something so simple. But it’s here now. You’ve thought about this moment for so long the speech accompanying it flows like water.

“In our years together I could never choose the right time to do this. And we had many obstacles in the way: war scars, misunderstandings, my selfishness.” You close your eyes and shake your head, guilt stinging your heart, as it has done ever since you and Vincent fixed your relationship. “I am guilty - yes! I am guilty of throwing away our moments. I shan’t repeat that mistake again. You have been by my side for a full dozen years, Vincent, I should be honoured if you will be mine for ten times that.”

“Sebastian.”

You open the box. Two rings in brilliant white gold are nestled within. You are already acquainted to yours, it’s the same one Vincent gifted you as a promise so very long ago; well, it has its partner now. “You are the river of human kindness. You steered me this far. At this point in the journey of our life, I wish to keep you with me for ever: Vincent Belorgey, will you marry me?”

He stares at you some more. Slowly, a smile drifts to his lips. The smile becomes a laugh, which soon dissolves in tears of joy. Wordlessly, he pulls you to your feet and pulls you fast to his chest; this is not quite enough for him, and within seconds he’s lifted you up with a triumphant shout, spinning you in a circle. When he lets you down he makes his answer known in a way you didn’t expect, which is: another ring, in its own box, blue velvet to counter your red. His is more elaborate with an inset band of diamonds. You look up at him, astonished.

“I was going to take my chance after midnight.” He confesses, his hoarse-voiced happiness mingling with the dark mischief he learnt to tame for your pleasure. "I received the Madame's permission years ago. But it wouldn't have been right to spring it on you at the start of your presidency, and for years - I wondered if it would ever be the right time-"

And the sting again. Yes, for many years, it seemed like there would be no light at the end of the tunnel. “Oh, Vinco-”

"But I kept hoping such a day would come. Oh, Bastien, I am glad. If we were still in the palace when it happened, I wanted the top floor converted into our suite - for the honeymoon, or whatever else, let’s do that! - and if we weren't, I was going to take you to Grasse. Obtain us a cottage and a beautiful yard in springtime, plead your grace on one knee! I thought you might like to be stolen away, in the same way I think you'd like being gently but firmly taken against the wall." He hushes your blushing protests with a finger, pressed tenderly against your mouth. "It depends on circumstances, but from everything I know about you, I was pretty damned certain you'd love it."

"You scoundrel.” But you can’t resist taking the tip of his finger into your mouth, teeth edging slightly against the skin. “I hope you didn't say that to my mother."

"My lips are sealed." Vincent laughs, eyes twinkling. He leans in. "Unless my Sebastian desires otherwise. I'd much rather please you with them, than to merely talk about it."

The sentiment is mutual. You present your hand to him, playfully haughty as he kisses the back of it and slips his ring onto your finger. You do the same for him with yours, and seeing that he’s pleased with this arrangement, reach up to kiss him fully. It is a short kiss, for the clock is ticking and you have places to be, but wholly satisfying: Vincent slips his hands along your body, feeling for you beneath your regalia, and the caress pleases you.

Already his ring is warm against your skin. Against the wall, indeed. Perhaps later.

---

After that the plan goes without a hitch. When you enter hand in hand, you and Captain both, an air of understanding sweeps across the receiving room right away. People put down their glasses, give you their full attention, and Franck slips away from the crowd. (They will later confirm they were similarly commissioned by Vincent, but kept their loyalty to you, aware you would get your chance first.)

“Have you enjoyed tonight’s festivities, beloved ones?”

Nods and murmurs. You smile wide and raise your hand up high, at the same time as Vincent, presenting your rings in unison to the crowd.

“Might you have room for one more, perhaps?”

Stunned silence. From the back of the room Franck pulls a cord with flourish. One of the many burgundy drapes there, indistinguishable from the rest, falls open instantly; the sound draws the crowd’s attention, and as Franck presents the new Presidential portrait they painted of yourself and your fiancé, the tension breaks free like a flood. First there are gasps, then a thunderous cheer, breaking forth like wildfire. Sonny is the first to throw himself into your arms, sobs of utter relief and joy interspersed with his congratulations.

That painting there is barely a week old, but already it’s set up for a sequel, this time with all three of you. You lavish paternal kisses on him and lift him high above your shoulders.

"Mesdames et Messieurs," you cry as you hold tight the two men dearest to your heart, "a happy family!"

Everyone swirls around you then. A sea of applause, handshakes, and hearty slaps on the shoulder (for Vincent more than you). It took you so long to get to this point, but you got there in the end, and something is finally complete. A camera materializes, already mounted on a tripod. Franck is the operator. With eager gestures they quickly wave everyone in the room close to you, gathered in position in two neat rows, you and Vincent and Sonny at the very centre. Tonight they will immortalize your family as it was and is; at the wedding, which will hopefully be very soon, this picture will be taken again with the addition of Franck in the crowd.

They will always be there for future photos as well. The transference of the old into the new, incorporating the new, and again and again for as long as you prosper.

Xavier and Gaspard are closest to you, faces beaming with joy and a mutual love for one another. Pedro and David are closest to the Captain, their expressions as serene as can be, the former's arm playfully resting on the latter's shoulder as if to show off his taller height. Beside them stands your chauffeur, Quentin and Bruno beside Xavier; then all the subordinates, and the palace staff who were so faithful to you all these years. You glance at Vincent amidst this big and wonderful family you have amassed, and he smiles back you; you lean in and kiss again, picture perfect with hands entwined, as a second round of cheers erupt again.

“Ouistiti!”

You keep that photo in your bedchamber forever.

#Anonymous #drabble #sebinsky #fanfiction #akchotesuggestion #kissing prompts #'ouistiti' - french equivalent of 'say cheese'#as i was dedicated to not writing the murderpaindeath for current request sessions #because there's too much of it in current lib plotline #this is how the christmas banquet in the fix-it au would have gone #assuming lib sebinsky quit the game and started fixing themselves early on #this solution relies on them making this decision before franck was even asked for seb's commission #so it is a VERY long running solution and takes pains to fix the majority of rose of the noble palace #a lot of events that happened in actual lib would not have done #but the endgame would be worth it :D #this is so long because i got really invested in seeing how far this could go #i hope it is a good piece though! this is the last public drabble i will post #fun for all the family ;)

9 notes · View notes

narwhalandchill · 3 months

Text

friendship ended with every single TCG card, constipated beasts or whoever are now my best friends 🥰🥰🥰

#I LOVE GENERATING 8268 ENERGY BLOCKS AND FEEDING THEM TO MY BELOVED!!!!! I LOVE HAVING 15+ HP ON MY ANCHOR!!#I LOVE ULTING WITH MAX ENERGY BLOCKS IN HAND AND WATCHING MY NARWHALS HP NUMBER DOUBLE ITSELF IN ONE ACTION!!!!#hate them in the abyss LOVE them in genius invokation. truly a twist of all time #the beasts r out there fighting to their death every fight and then my dearest after eating up enough cards simply has to pick up the sweep #granted these r just. NPC fights im not good enough to do pvp lmao but im having a Great time actually . learning the ropes #also. my beloved DOES have vocalizations theyre just quieter. and only for swaps and when ult is used .#lil sad there isnt more but at least its something.... i love whale sounds i love when my beloved speaks.......#genshin #gaming tag

5 notes · View notes

deathbyvalentine · 4 years

Text

Harrowing Commissions

Sebastian

The light from the fire flickered, making the shadows in the room shudder and jump. Starting, the maid in the armchair jumped up, adding another log to the flames. It was a room with a lot of shadows - part bedroom, part parlour and part study, odd objects littered side tables and shelves alike. The walls that were not dominated with bookcases were dominated instead by windows or portraits. The room was dark, the windows blocked out by heavy curtains. In all of the clutter, it would be easy to miss the young man lying in bed, surrounded by pillows and cushions, holding a faded blue book in his pale hands.

Only his cheeks had colour in them - a feverish flash of rouge. His hair and eyes were dark. His lips moved in silent prayer as his eyes flickered over the paper thin pages. A cough came over him, wracking his thin body. His attempts to muffle it did no good - the maid immediately bustled over with a tray of bottles and ointments. Propping him up, in a business like manner she rubbed a foul smelling liquid onto his chest. It appeared to the job and the odd whistling his breathing had taken on faded. She lay him back down and began to fluff up the pillows around him, fussing in such a way it betrayed her fondness for her patient.

He caught hold of her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “It’s soon, isn’t it? It’s going to be soon.” She stared at him, unsure of how to respond. It didn’t matter. A few more moments and he picked up his beloved gospels, resuming his study.

Alice

The clock was just chiming... a number when the latch to the servant’s entrance to the kitchen lifted. The hearth fire was still burning, so when the young lady slipped in, she managed to avoid kicking over the mop and bucket just to the side. One hand held her boots, the other her skirts to keep the rich fabric off the dirty stone floor. Now safely inside, she placed the shoes down beside the door and collapsed onto the bench alongside the long wooden table. Idly, while looking into the small flames of the fire, she picked a grape from the fruit bowl and popped it into her mouth, enjoying the sweet burst of flavour.

She pulled the pins from her hair, letting the curls cascade down her back. She winced a little and inspected her fingertip a moment after. One of the jewels had caught her funny and sliced her. A small bead of blood welled up. She blinked at it for a moment before placing her finger in her mouth too, soothing the wound. Outside, the sun was beginning to creep up over the horizon, painting the sky in pinks, indigos and purples. She should slip to bed before the breakfast preparations begun - she knew her mother had slipped an extra coin to one of the servants to report on her, but she wasn’t sure which one yet. If she slept now, she had enough time to be woken for breakfast and pretend to be as fresh as a daisy.

She stood, stretching once. Then she disappeared up the servant’s corridors, knowing the route to her room by heart. Her boots lay forgotten by the door.

Thomas

“Behold, a story for the ages! Be dazzled, wondered and amazed at the power of - “

No, that’s not right. You’re not writing a circus side show.

“Come and be welcome in an epic spreading centuries. Heroes, lovers and villains convene in this - “

You’re not writing a fairytale either. Think Thomas. What are you trying to do here?

“This year, a new play arrives that will reveal not only the essence of characters within it, but those who watch it. Watch the story unfold and let it awaken something within you too. We all wear masks. The hero, the lover, the villain.... This is an invitation to find out exactly what is behind yours. If you dare. If you’re brave enough.”

That’s the advertisement done. Now I just have to finish the damn thing.

Eloise

“He loves me... He loves me not. He loves me... He loves me not - ” Petals drifted to the floor like morning snow, to be crushed as the woman paced barefoot, releasing their too-sweet perfume into the air. The floor was almost slick with them, the top layer bright and pink, the bottom little more than browning sludge. Her skirts trailed, disturbing the petals enough to reveal how many lay beneath. It seemed that everything in the room was coated with petals or dust. But still, she walked.

“He loves me.” She stopped short at the mirror, allowing a slight smile to spread across her beautiful face. She reached out with gloved hands, her fingertips just touching the spotless surface. Her fingers left a slight smear and she recoiled, finding the bell on the sideboard to frantically call a maid. The mirror being obscured simply would not do. She stepped back and let the bustling girl come in with a cloth, the door creating a semicircle of clear floor. The girl didn’t touch anything else, didn’t even ask about the petals. She cleaned the mirror and was gone in a flurry of business like activity. There was a breath, a moment where everything was still.

“He loves me not.” The slow chant resumed, almost lyrical in its cadence. Another petal tumbled to the ground. Another step was taken.

Charles

Day 15 “... My sleep was greatly disturbed last night by a number of dreams. Such visions! Such phantasms! I believe this is a sign that my work is taking me closer than ever before. A number of studies has found that sleep is when the mind is most susceptible after all. I plan on capitalising on this by distilling a mineral (imported from Italy) into a chemical that is supposed to induce a most coherant train of thought. Lucidity and revelation are of course, key and I have high hopes for this latest experiment granting me fresh sight and new contact.”

Day 20 “Well, that did not go exactly to plan. The chemical did indeed induce a number of wonderful sights, but as always, the body was not willing. My hands trembled so violently it shattered the simmering glassware and I was forced to retire, bedridden for several days. Every failed avenue is a clue however, and I refuse to consider it an utter waste. In brighter news, a letter has arrived from my Vatican friend’s expedition. He promises to send his logbook as he believes there are some encounters I will be interested in. I await this with baited breath - he has always given me fascinating data before.”

Day 23 “A small break while I was forced to deal with one of the children’s latest indiscretion. Did the good lord grant us families purely to curb the progress of the human race? I can only assume so. No matter, tomorrow I try some new components from America, promising to engage with the energy that sits around us all, invisible but present all the same.”

Elizabeth

She tutted and held the glass up to the light, turning it this way and that. Placing it back on the table, she snapped her fingers at a passing maid, steering her towards the sparkling glassware. “Do you really think this is good enough?” Not waiting for an answer, she shook her head. “There are still fingermarks on the stem. Polish them again. I shall check on your progress in an hour.”

Sweeping from the room, she entered the busy hallway. Preparations were underway. Everywhere you looked there were maids carrying fresh linen, silverware or carpet beaters. Butlers converged in corners, talking about how best to organise the cloakroom, the game room, the parlour. A smile tugged at her lips. She was rarely as pleased as when the house was alive like this. There was something pleasing in the shifting bodies, the business of it all. It reminded her of a great beehive of which she was the queen.

Pausing on the upper landing, she rested her hands on the (gleaming, shining) banister. The house would be perfect for the ball, of this much she was certain. If only her family were as easily polished up. Or perhaps as easily put away as the silverware was, only to be brought out at special occasions. With an amused smile, she shook the thought out of her head. They would be perfect. She would make sure of it. When she set her mind to something, she never failed.

Georgiana/Mystery Member #1

She held a fork up to the light, turning it this way and that. Frowning at what she saw, she clicked her fingers at a passing maid. With an eyeroll, the girl sloped over, hands placed in her pinafore pouch in a most slovenly manner. Letting the fork fall to the table with a clatter, she clucked her tongue. “There are still marks on the cutlery. Fix it. At once.” “Yes ma’am.” The maid replied, though she could swear she saw a hint of a smirk on her face. Her cheeks flushed red though she kept her head up high. What impertinence. She may not be the lady of the house but she still deserved respect. Elizabeth would never deal with such nonsense from her servants and yet these girls thought they could get away with it with her. She stalked from the room, being sure to make her heels click on the floor in a way she thought of as most stately.

She got the same response when she found a smudge on the guest linen, two scullery maids very almost giggling. Hating herself as she did it, she invoked the most compelling line she could think of. “Of course, if you would like me to explain to Elizabeth why your work is not up to scratch, I would be happy to explain.” Instantly, their smiles disappeared and a solemnity appeared in their eyes. The rush of power only lasted an instant. It was borrowed, after all.

One day she would be married and she would have her own house, bigger and grander than this. She would have maids that straightened their backs whenever she swept past and butlers that refused to lift their eyes to look at her directly. She would hold all the keys to the house on a chain on her waist and she would never have to ask for something twice. One day.

Mystery Member #2

Dearest friend, I write to you with a matter of great urgency. Too long I have been silenced and now the time has come for me to finally beg for help. I am not sure what may befall -

I am not sure if harm will - I am sure great harm will befall me if this letter was discovered, so I beg you and your servants to be discrete. If you investigate, keep my name off your lips and papers. You must be wondering why I chose you. Well, your kind and -

your gentle and good -

Well, you would believe me. The constabulary would surely find me mad if I approached them with my tale of woe and I would be in Bedlam before the month was out, which would suit my captors fine. To be clear, I do not want them harmed - I do not want violence - I just want to escape. A safe haven. An oasis. Away from this den of iniquity and sin. Eagerly I wait for your reply. I know you shall not fail me. With love.

The House

It sat, quietly for now, among gardens and fields. If arriving by carriage, it snuck up on you. A turn in the road and there it was, looming and large, casting shadows easily around it. If arriving by foot, it simply waited for you to arrive, watching you with its many windows, glistening in the sun.

It had been used to house soldiers once and it hadn’t forgotten it. If you looked closely enough, the marks were still there. A scuff on a door frame where a sword had caught passing through, the basement with a forgotten box of munitions sat, covered in cobwebs and caked in dust. Soldiers had slept here, loved here, mourned here. Entire lives had been acted out with the house as a constant backdrop.

It used to house monks and it remembered this too. In its carvings, its windows, in paintings of men that nobody could recall the names of. There was a reverence that could not be simply scrubbed away like old paint. It lingered like perfume. It stayed in the bones of the place, the memory becoming as essential as the bricks.

A ball was to be hosted soon enough. The servants and the family prepared, gardeners tidied the grounds and merchants came to and from carrying exotic goods. It was not the first party it had seen and it most certainly would not be the last. The house looked its best when filled with people. It was not a place made to be empty, to be unusued. It always had a purpose and its purpose now was simply to host.

#commissions #prose #larp #teasers

1 note · View note

caedmonfaith · 5 years

Note

Chrysalism: the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm + the word colours for the Ineffable Husbands?

Thank you, Nonny! I enjoyed writing this - only my second Aziraphale/Crowley fic! It’s ~1500 words of fluff, with a smidgen of character study. Rated G. Established relationship.

A Quiet Night In

Aziraphale hummed to himself absently as he tinkered with the final bit of bookkeeping he needed to do for the day - not that it really needed to be done, since he rarely sold his books. He just felt much more like a proper shop owner when he did the proper things, like keep up with his ledger. His little routines were soothing to him - almost as soothing as the books he surrounded himself with - and he clung to them, deviating very little from his typical patterns of behavior.

A sudden clap of thunder broke through the quiet, and he glanced up towards the front of the shop. Odd, that. The newspaper’s weather section had called for a crystalline sky until tomorrow evening, when it was supposed to rain. But today was supposed to be clear. Oh, a storm rather did put a damper on his plans to drag Crowley to Shakespeare in the Park tonight.

He got to his feet, abandoning his ledger, and shuffled to the front of the shop, looking out the front door. It was pouring sheets, the people scurrying for cover barely visible through the heavy rain. Lightning struck, illuminating the darkened sky like day, and another clap of thunder crashed. Aziraphale made a moue for a moment, then sighed and flipped the sign on the shop from ‘open’ to ‘closed’, turning the deadbolt.

“Bad news, dearest,” he called out as he turned away from the window, calling out to Crowley.

The demon - his demon, Aziraphale thought with a burst of happiness - appeared from behind one of the stacks. “Oh? What’s so bad?”

“The weather has most decidedly taken a turn,” he explained, “so I’m afraid there will be no production of As You Like It in the park tonight.”

“Blessed shame,” Crowley remarked, looking out the window. “Still, I suppose a quiet night in wouldn’t hurt either of us.”

Aziraphale gave him a soft smile - the smile only Crowley seemed able to inspire. “Of course not. Are you hungry?”

Crowley shrugged. “I could eat. Should I order in some carryout?” he offered, pulling out his mobile. “Greek? Indian?”

“Oh, no. No need to make some poor delivery driver go out into this storm. We’ll just scrounge around my kitchen - I’m sure I have something I could scare up. Although I’m not much of a cook. Seems I would be, doesn’t it? Oh, well. I suppose I could just miracle it, if I have to.”

“Not to worry, Zira,” Crowley soothed him. “I’ll go miracle something up for us while you pick out a book to read tonight, how about that?”

“I already have an anthology upstairs, waiting for me,” Aziraphale said, suddenly remembering the book he’d saved for himself as a treat.

“Well, then, let’s get on with the quiet evening in.”

Aziraphale indicated the stairwell to his flat and gave a little bow as he made a sweeping motion with his arm. “After you, my love.”

***

Ninety minutes later found them on the couch in the same positions they nearly always took on their quiet nights in: Aziraphale sat at one end of the large, comfortable couch, knees together and back straight. He held a book in his right hand, and he was miracling the pages to turn them, because his left hand was busy playing with Crowley’s hair.

Crowley had sprawled out over the remaining two thirds of the couch, one foot on the floor and the other propped on the arm of the couch. His head rested on Aziraphale’s lap, and he scrolled on his mobile while the angel read. Outside, the storm continued to rage, rain pelting the windows and thunder shaking the walls. It was peaceful, a quiet moment of chrysalism, and Aziraphale had seldom felt more content than he did right then.

Absent of thought, his hand stilled in Crowley’s hair, and it wasn’t long before the demon butted his head up against the angel’s hand, much like a cat seeking to be petted. Aziraphale chuckled and looked down at the red-haired man in his lap. “Greedy serpent,” he chastised gently, but it came out sounding more like a caress, which, really, it was.

Crowley, for his part, just hummed contentedly as Aziraphale resumed his stroking of his head.

A nearly deafening crack of thunder shook the building, and Aziraphale looked up with a frown. “Goodness. This storm seems to be going on quite a while. It’s not letting up a bit.”

“Good thing we didn’t go to Shakespeare in the Park then, eh? A quiet night in was just the thing.”

Something clicked in Aziraphale’s mind, and he looked back down at Crowley. “You miracled a storm, didn’t you? You didn’t want to go to Shakespeare in the Park, so you created a thunderstorm so we couldn’t go.”

Crowley squirmed slightly, and it was a decidedly guilty motion - at least, Aziraphale knew it to be just that. One couldn’t be friends with someone for six thousand years (and then more-than-friends for the last three months) without recognizing certain mannerisms.

The demon didn’t say anything, and Aziraphale prodded him just a bit. “Crowley?”

He sat up, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it (but really making it look even more wild), and his yellow eyes wouldn’t meet Aziraphale’s. “It’s not that I didn’t want to go...”

“Why did you feel the need to deceive me?” the angel asked softly, feeling just a touch hurt.

“I wasn’t deceiving you. At least, I wasn’t trying to. I didn’t even look at it that way. I just…” He hesitated, gathering his thoughts, then sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I only wanted you all to myself tonight and didn’t know how to make that happen otherwise,” Crowley admitted.

“My dear, why didn’t you just say so?”

The demon still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I couldn’t,” he muttered.

Aziraphale stared at him for a minute, wondering why in Heaven’s name Crowley would feel he couldn’t state something as simple as the desire for a quiet night in, then realization hit him. His beloved demon had spent six thousand years manipulating circumstances to get what he wanted, never ever revealing what he truly thought or felt - certainly not revealing the desires of his own heart. Even now, it was only in occasional, unguarded moments that Crowley could admit his love out loud. He communicated that love clearly enough through other means, little deeds that showed Aziraphale exactly what he meant to Crowley, but the act of expressing himself verbally was incredibly difficult. Aziraphale had accepted that he may not hear the words he cherished as often as he’d hoped to, in the centuries he’d daydreamed of actually being with Crowley, but he should have known that Crowley would seek to express his love in other ways - even when those ways seemed a bit misguided.

“Oh, my dear,” he crooned, then leaned forward to press a kiss to Crowley’s lips. “My most darling dear, my sweet love.”

“Don’t call me bloody sweet,” Crowley mumbled, but there was no bite to it. His amber eyes flicked up to Aziraphale’s. “You’re not cross?”

“No, darling, I’m not cross. I understand, as best I can. Just - will you try for me? You needn’t ever have any fear of me, none at all. I promise. Anything you want, beloved, and it’s yours for the asking.”

The corner of Crowley’s lip quirked up. “Yeah?”

“Of course, dearest. But I can’t give you what you want or need if I don’t know what those things are. I need you to tell me, as best you can, so I can do my very best to make you happy. Can you do that?”

Crowley nodded. “I’ll try.”

That was all Aziraphale could ask for, and he didn’t push for more. He just pressed a kiss to his demon’s forehead, then gestured for him to resume his place lying on the couch. Crowley did so, and after a minute, they were comfortably situated again, Aziraphale’s hand back playing with the auburn hair idly,

Another clap of thunder rattled the window panes, followed by a brilliant streak of lightning. Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s head gently and suggested, “You could reduce the severity of the storm a bit.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll just clear the clouds out…” Crowley raised his hand to miracle the storm away, and Aziraphale caught him before he could make a motion.

“No, don’t stop the storm. Leave it, just maybe… tone it down a bit. I’m concerned someone will be hurt by lightning or flash floods or perhaps a strong wind blowing something over onto them.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting anyone,” Crowley said simply, and Aziraphale knew that to be true. He smiled fondly.

The storm lessened, and the two beings - one celestial, one occult - enjoyed the sounds of the now-distant thunder and the rain pattering the windows.

At length, when the clock neared midnight, they retired to Aziraphale’s bedroom and made a little thunder of their own.

#aziraphale/crowley #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens fic #ineffable husbands fic #my fic #my writing #for some reason I couldn't put a page break in this #have I forgotten how to tumblr?#it's entirely possible #anyway #I hope you enjoyed this #thank you so much!#send me prompts! I don't bite #I promise!#Anonymous

38 notes · View notes

magioftheseas · 8 years

Text

Cheer Up, Cheer Up, Shut Up

Somehow I finished this at just over 9.1K wooooords!

Probably going to be part of a series. Probably.

We shall see.

Summary: Akamatsu Kaede's his dearest childhood friend. Saihara Shuuichi is the cute new shy transfer student with an unfortunate crush. Amami Rantarou's a guy who just goes with the flow... Isn't he? (It’s a regular high school AU, but would I really call it non-despair?)

Warnings: Shouldn’t it go without saying that I write characters with mental hangups and at least some mental instability? Well, I do. There’s nothing graphic and even suggestive stuff is pretty minimal, like just vague dirty jokes between teens. But yeah.

Notes: Amami and Kaede are childhood friends and also gay. Still, their relationship is important. Yep. Aside from Shuu’s one-sided crush on Kaede and Amami’s kind of crush on Shuu, this really isn’t a story about romance as it is about overall relationships. Still I hope you like it.

**Alternate Ao3 Link**

People are talking about his childhood friend again.

“Oh, there’s Akamatsu-san.”

“She really is stunning, isn’t she?”

She laughs, and the two sigh after her. With a smile playing on his lips, he only watches them with a narrowing gaze. One of them notices, and they can’t help but nervously laugh.

“You uh, really are one lucky guy, Amami.”

“Oh no,” Amami laughs in return. It’s not as bright as hers, he knows, but it’s calm all the same. “Kae-chan can be really unattractive in the mornings. She gets grumpy.”

The guy laughs again, more genuinely. “Oh man, I’d pay to see that.”

His friend is nodded in amused agreement.

Amami’s tempted to say more, to go further into Kaede and her insistence on eggs being an essential part of breakfast, Kaede and her abject refusal to hitch a ride on his bike, Kaede and that irritating habit she has of tapping her fingers along the table’s surface, as though the smooth wood were piano keys.

Kaede who would gush for hours on end about the cute girls in their class if he let her. Kaede who could spend as much time staring at skirts as she did piano sheets. Kaede, his dearest childhood friend and mutual confidant, beloved Class Rep and a natural born leader in some respects.

Admired by many with so few aware she would never have any semblance of interest in getting a boyfriend.

“Kae-chan is something else,” he says, and they agree just as before.

His parents remarked that he had always been mild-mannered and mellow as a child. And how lucky that was—because wasn’t it ideal for an older brother to be gentle? Admittedly, he doesn’t remember much past that.

But he does remember that Kaede loved the piano even when she couldn’t pronounce any of the famous classical songs or composers. He does remember the way she dazzled others even early on. His sisters and his parents adored her. His parents were proud.

The two of them had been subtly pushed together for longer than either of them would care to remember. Supposedly they kissed once, maybe twice. And each time upon recalling that, Kaede would wrinkle her nose in discomfort. For him, it was also an uncomfortable thought.

That thought being pushed on them may have resulted in a falling out or two. He’s really not sure. He can’t quite remember. There’s a lot of things he can’t remember. His memory’s terrible.

But—it’s hard to forget Kaede’s stricken face, and it’s hard to forget her crushingly desperate grip on his hands.

“Please don’t be mad,” she said, she pleaded. “Please, Tarou-kun, don’t be mad.”

At you or Yurika? He wondered, and then wondered what this concern was for. It’s not like he had it in him to be mad at one of his sisters and his dearest friend over—whatever this was.

What had it been?

“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” Kaede had whispered into his shoulder. “Please... Don’t tell anyone...”

“Okay, Kae-chan.”

Somehow, that had become their relationship. If nothing else, he’s sure of that much.

“Harukawa-san wore her hair in a single ponytail today,” he said, watching with amusement as Kaede froze, a shiver almost visibly going up her spine. “Momota-kun kept complimenting her. For someone so stoic, Harukawa-san looks really pretty when embarrassed, doesn’t she?”

“Harukawa-san is always pretty,” Kaede finally replies, stiffly and almost a little huffy. “But I find it suspicious you take notice of that now. Are you jealous since Momota-kun was complimentary?”

“Momota-kun’s a fine fellow, but I don’t think he's my type, Kae-chan,” he said cheerfully, picking trash as he did. Kaede huffed again, and pushes a desk with her hip so that she could sweep better. For a moment, his gaze lingers on her arm band. “Say, Kae-chan...”

“Ouma-kun,” she groans, suddenly and staring down at a marked-up desk with dismay. “I keep telling him not to write on it...”

“If he’s not bullying anyone, I say leave him be.”

“Urgh, Iruma-san keeps sticking gum under her desk...”

“I don’t think she’ll ever stop doing that.”

“Shirogane-san left her sketchbook... She’s really going to be aggravated when she realizes."

“Do you think she and Angie-san share notes?”

“There’s a ladybug in Gokuhara-kun’s desk.”

“We should probably open a window and let it out.”

A pause. Kaede went over to the window and opened it. The ladybug flew off her hand and into the orange sky. Kaede stared after it, and then she stared at the clouds, almost with a contemplative, unreadable gaze. The pale purple of her irises almost seemed glassy before she blinked a few times, and turned to him, leaning against the window sill with only an easy smile.

Kaede frowns, and looks back towards the sky.

“It’s just another day, isn’t it?”

“Well, it certainly isn’t a night, is it?”

“Are you going to call your family today?”

Amami pauses for just a moment, just before answering. “I don’t think so. Not today, at least. I just saw them for Erika-chan’s birthday, after all.”

“I see,” Kaede says. “I’m thinking of talking to my mother. She’s going to be happy to hear I’ve been doing so well...”

“Yes, she will,” Amami agreed.

“...It’s a lot of hard work but I'm managing...”

“That’s part of what makes you an excellent leader, Kae-chan,” he said cheerfully. “I’m sure she'll be proud.”

“She’s going to ask about Tarou-kun, too,” she adds, almost absentmindedly, twirling a strand of blond hair around her fingers. For a moment, he stares at her silver musical note clips and how they reflect an almost sharp light. “What do you think I should tell her about the trouble you’re getting into?”

"What trouble?" he asks, chuckling as he did. "I'm anything but a troublesome guy, Kae-chan."

“You aren’t?” she asks, sardonically and disbelievingly. “Oh, well, if you say so.”

He laughs again.

“I should still keep an eye on you,” Kaede goes on. “After all, some people are just too suspicious to be left to their own devices.”

“I’m not a suspicious person, Kae-chan.”

She just gives him a look.

It takes a while for the two of them to return to cleaning with how long the staring contest lasts.

The transfer student is one who has his attention almost immediately.

Saihara Shuuichi introduces himself with a nervous bow, eyes down, fidgety hands, and a pink blush coloring his pale cheeks. Amami can hear some girls quietly giggle, some guys chuckle lightly, and he swallows. And he listens closely, focusing intensely on Saihara’s mumbly words that were barely above a whisper.

“I...like detective mysteries and I, er, hope I can...get along with all of you.”

“Pleased to meet you, Saihara-kun.” The polite response, directed by Kaede, is in near perfect harmony.

Kaede gives her usual sunny smile. Amami can see the way Saihara stares back, gray eyes slowly widening, and lips parting because he hurriedly nods.

Oh, of course. Just a little, his smile strains. Just a little, he’s disappointed but hardly surprised.

Just a little, he feels bad for Saihara, getting more and more flustered as Kaede greets him formally as is expected of the Class Rep. Poor Saihara, who chokes on his ‘yes’ as Kaede says the two of them should be friends.

Poor Saihara-kun, Amami thinks as his smile steadies itself.

“Saihara-kun... He’s really shy, but he’s a good person,” Kaede says easily as she picks at her rice. “Don’t scare him off, Tarou-kun.”

“Why, whatever do you take me for, Kae-chan? I’m one of the most nonthreatening people out there!”

Kaede snorted.

“Nonthreatening,” she repeated, quirking a brow. “You’re the kind of person who’d be a mastermind in the novels Saihara-kun likes to read.”

“That’s a vicious show of prejudice, Kae-chan, and I expected better from you.”

Kaede rolled her eyes. “No, you’re definitely a suspicious guy. I’m just being honest.”

“Should the class idol and Class Rep really have such a sharp tongue?” he wondered.

“Ooh, for someone so nonthreatening, you sure are cheeky.” Kaede took a bite of her rice, tapping her chopsticks against the bento’s edge. “Do you like Saihara-kun?”

“He’s a pretty likable person, isn’t he? I certainly don’t have any reason to dislike him,” Amami said.

“He’s your type,” Kaede said, pretty dryly. “I think you two would get along.”

“Oh yes, I can see us maintaining a really deep friendship,” Amami’s tone lowered into something undoubtedly suggestive, and his smile didn’t change a little. “Don’t you think so?”

“Saihara-kun would have to get used to you first, Tarou-kun," Kaede replied flippantly, even as she gave him a not quite disgusted look. But it soon softened as she asked, “Would you help him settle in? For some reason, you’re cordial enough that people feel calm around you.”

“What kind of person would turn down such a pure-hearted request from his dearest friend?”

“I take it back,” Kaede snapped, pointing at him with her chopsticks. “Stay away from him.”

“Oh Kae-chan, have mercy on my impudent soul!”

“I really will tell Saihara-kun to be wary of you if you don’t stop.”

At Amami’s pouting face and puppy eyes, she didn’t even falter.

“You’ve definitely got it wrong if you think that look will work on me, Tarou-kun.”

Really for someone so sunny, Kae-chan is frigid!

"Kae-chan!" he whined.

Kaede just turned away with an hmph and puffed out cheeks. Amami poked her cheek, prodding the rosiness of it as though it could just burst any second now.

“Kae-chan,” he says again, voice dragging. “Kae-chan, Kae-chan, please.”

Kaede nearly bit him.

“You're dangerous,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I’m definitely going to keep Saihara-kun safe from you.”

“Oh, fine,” he just sighs. “It’ll give me more opportunities to cry to Iidabashi-kun, and he’ll hear about how mean you are.”

Kaede stiffened. “That’s low.”

Amami’s grin turned cheeky. Kaede smacked his shoulder.

“That’s LOW! You know he’s going to take you completely at face value!”

“Oh, you’re concerned about that?”

“He gripes at me enough, Tarou-kun!”

“Isn’t that because he thinks highly of you?” he asks in a sing-song tone. “You’re so flustered, Kae-chan!”

“Ugh. Don’t make me complain about you.” Kaede very nearly sounded threatening. “Gokuhara-kun already thinks your manners could use some work. And Chabashira-san already has suspicions about you like the suspicious person you are. Not to mention, you’d leave a bad impression on Saihara-kun.”

Amami stiffened for just a moment.

“If you’re nice to me, I’ll put in a good word for you,” Kaede goes on, matter-of-fact and to the point. “That way, you’ll have better chances of winning him over.”

That’s if he likes guys. And isn’t he already enamored with you? Still, that’s...

“A tempting offer,” he concedes nonetheless. “So, can I introduce myself to him later?”

“You don’t need my permission for that, Tarou-kun,” she said.

“Ah, alright. Can I have your bun, then?”

Kaede slapping his hand away answered that particular question.

One day, a perfect opportunity arises after class in which everyone else hurries out for one reason or another, but Saihara stayed behind in his desk. Kaede, of course, has places to be so she’s on her way out as well, but she paused. And she turns back to Saihara, smiling.

“Saihara-kun, I’ll see you later.”

“Y-Yes!” Saihara stammers back as Amami watches. “I-I’ll...see you, Akamatsu-san.”

Kaede’s smile brightens, but then she catches his gaze, and she acknowledges him. The only other guy still at their desk, cheerful as ever, and of course Saihara notices as well. Saihara especially pays attention when Kaede addresses him with,

“Tarou-kun.”

“Kae-chan,” he returns easily, unaffected as ever. “I’ll be seeing you too, won’t I?”

“Of course you will,” she responded dryly, hand on her hip and eyes narrowed. “But you can’t oversleep tomorrow. You said you’d help me plan the upcoming sports event. Remember?”

“My terrible memory has been refreshed, Kae-chan, no worries.”

“And that just makes me worry more,” Kaede sighed before managing a smile in spite of herself. Her stare flickers between him and Saihara. Saihara flinched and quickly ducks his head in shame. With Saihara no longer observing, she shoots him a meaningful look to which Amami just widens his smile.

“I’ll see you, Kae-chan,” he repeats.

“Yeah,” she agrees, and waves him off as she goes. “See you, Tarou-kun.”

And just like that, they’re alone. Saihara is staring hard out the window. His cheeks are noticeably pink.

It’s a perfect opportunity so, Amami stands, gathering up his bag, and heads over there.

"Saihara-kun, greetings.”

“Oh, greetings, er...” Saihara quickly turned to him only to pause, looking him over briefly, before giving a small smile. “Ah, Amami-kun, was it?”

“Right-o. Amami Rantarou, at your service.” He winks, smile widening as he leans back against one of the desks. Saihara blinks, but he doesn’t seem sure how to react other than to maintain that polite air. It’s cute. He’s cute. “How are you? How would you say you’re getting along with everyone thus far? I’m ah, only asking out of curiosity, of course.”

“I’m...fine...” Saihara’s mumbling a bit. He’s not really looking at him anymore, instead seeming fixated on the room’s corner.

Surely I’m a much more interesting sight than that...

“Oh, that’s good!” Amami exclaims with a joyful clap, smile so brilliant it was almost blinding. “See, I’m someone who worries a great deal for my classmates, and it’s really important that no one feel left out, regardless of where they came from.”

“Oh, thanks,” Saihara replies with a firm nod. “Er, for worrying about me, I mean.”

“Think nothing of it!” he chirped. “After all, you’re my precious classmate, Saihara-kun.”

Saihara’s blushing quite darkly as he just nods a few times. It’s adorable. He’s adorable.

“So I was thinking, since you’re new, I can help show you around,” Amami goes on. “Let’s be friends, Saihara-kun, I’ll be sure to take very good care of....”

“You’re Akamatsu-san’s boyfriend, right?”

The sudden question, burst so abruptly from Saihara’s mouth, and stammered so preciously, startled him into silence. He may have recoiled, blinking several times, and then he took in Saihara’s expression. That downcast, insecure, dreading expression with only a flicker of damning hope in his eyes.

Oh. Right. The thought is almost sobering as Amami relaxes, and the corner of his smile twists. Poor Saihara-kun.

“You mean Akamatsu Kaede-chan, right?”

“Who else...?” Saihara asked, quietly and almost agitatedly. Amami, internally, rolls his eyes at himself.

Who else, indeed.

“Ah, so you did mean Kae-chan.”

That pet name has Saihara flinch. Saihara does furiously nod, but he’s somehow even more uncertain than before.

“Y... Yeah. So, Amami-kun, you and Akamatsu-san...?”

“Oh, we’re...”

He’s supposed to say yes. When a guy is clearly interested in Kaede, it’s almost his duty to step in before they pursue her a little too aggressively. This is a role Kaede trusts him with, and of course, he may tease her more than anyone else, may give her the hardest time, but...at the end of the day, they look out for each other. He keeps away the guys, she keeps away the girls.

They look out for each other. And Saihara may be cute, but he really shouldn’t be allowed to get his hopes up where Kaede’s involved.

...But. Saihara is doing a poor job at looking up at him with these big gray eyes that are so insecure and almost pleading. He's clearly getting more and more unsettled, but there's also that hope, tightening his features and allowing him to steady himself. Or maybe, just maybe, Saihara is learning here and now how to be more confident.

Amami would hate to deflate him.

And, more seriously, does he really have it in him to lie to a face like that...?

Sadly, he already knows the answer.

“We’re just childhood friends. We’re not dating or anything like that, Saihara-kun.”

“Oh, really?” Saihara almost looked relieved, but he reeled himself back with, “You two are...just friends?”

"We’re just friends, and we have absolutely no interest in being anything more than that."

Of course, there’s more to it, but the conviction in his tone is something Saihara is the kind of person to take at face value. At least, at first. The way Saihara nods understandingly, and the way he seems to get sheepish for having received such an answer is endearing.

Amami, despite feeling an undeniable tenseness to the atmosphere, can’t help but have a softening smile. “Kae-chan is a wonderful person though, isn’t she?”

“Y-Yes, she is,” Saihara stammers, blush deepening and he plays with the dark blue strands obscuring half his gaze. Kaede used to pinch at her fringe the same way before she grew out her bangs. Amami chuckles, and Saihara just goes on. “Um, I’m, really sorry for asking something like that, Amami-kun.”

“It’s nothing. I get that question a lot,” Amami says with a laugh.

Saihara just ends up wavering. “You do?”

Oh, goodness, he’s almost hopelessly cute.

“Often by Kae-chan’s friends,” he explains, lightly and good-naturedly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Saihara-kun but I, like Kae-chan, am also quite popular and good-looking.”

Saihara perked up, snorting before slamming a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. At Amami’s crooked grin and flirtatious wink, Saihara started shaking.

Somehow after a short while, he managed to regain himself, clearing his throat and waving his hand.

“I-I wouldn’t doubt it,” he said. “Amami-kun, you definitely...have a strong personality like Akamatsu-san... I’m rather envious...”

“Envious?” Amami echoes cheerfully. “Really, Saihara-kun, you leave quite the impression on people yourself.”

“Really?” Saihara asks, laughing. He’s not meeting his gaze, and his smile is faltering before it falls completely. “Not that I doubt you, Amami-kun, but I do find that hard to believe...”

“Saihara-kun...” He starts. But Saihara has taken up his bag and finally stood from his seat.

“I really should get going,” Saihara mumbles. “Amami-kun, thank you for talking to me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Amami replies easily. “You really don’t need to thank a friend for being friendly. We’re friends, aren’t we, Saihara-kun? Or is that pushing it?”

“I-If you’re really alright with that, I...won’t refuse...” He swallowed, and he’s still not meeting his gaze, instead looking closer towards the ground. But he is smiling a little, at least. “Um, please take good care of me.”

“Of course.”

Saihara nodded. Amami nods back.

“I’ll see you, Saihara-kun.”

With that, Saihara bows respectfully before heading out. Amami watches him leave with a fond smile, one that fades as soon as he’s left alone in a classroom flooded with the low orange sunlight of the afternoon.

“Hello, hello, Saihara-kun.”

“Good morning, Amami-kun.”

“Kae-chan is showing you around the school today, isn’t she?”

“Ah, yes...”

“Perhaps I should go with you two so that you don’t get lost?”

“T-That’s...”

“A bad idea,” Kaede finishes, making Saihara jump at her sudden appearance. Still, Kaede was giving a look for Amami and Amami alone. “Your sense of direction is terrible, Tarou-kun. You can never remember where anything is.”

“Hey now, I have good enough intuition leading me the way,” Amami replies, even as he looked a bit embarrassed. “I’ve even gotten better at recalling at least some landmarks.”

“Once I had to call Hoshi-kun to find you because you somehow ended up at the athletics department,” she shot back. “And then there was that time you got lost in the library. You’re lucky Shinguuji-kun was there.”

“I know where my apartment is, Kae-chan.”

“And that’s about the extent of it, right?”

“Um,” Saihara kind of steps between them, or at least he shuffles a bit uncomfortably. “You really don’t have to trouble yourself, Amami-kun.”

“But we’re friends now, aren’t we? And safety in numbers!” Amami chirped matter-of-factly. “That way you have two people to protect you just in case, Saihara-kun.”

“But if you two just keep on fighting...” Saihara began, hardly looking at ease. “I don’t think the situation will be...ideal.”

“No, wait, Tarou-kun might have a point,” Kaede spoke up suddenly, eyes gleaming. “If someone corners us, we can sacrifice him and escape to safety.”

“That’s true! I can sacrifice myself for the greater good!” Amami exclaimed cheerfully.

“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself, Amami-kun...”

“I could sacrifice myself,” Kaede offered, to which Saihara immediately shook his head furiously in protest.

“No, I don’t want anyone sacrificing themselves!”

The two traded looks at how flustered Saihara really got from exclaiming that.

“We were just joking around, Saihara-kun,” Kaede said, sweetly and comfortingly. “Sorry—did we upset you?”

“N-No, Akamatsu-san, but...” Saihara’s head bowed. “I... Sorry. I just get overwhelmed easily.”

“Ah, oh dear, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, Saihara-kun,” Amami said, frowning as he did. “I sincerely apologize. Shall I just leave you and Kae-chan be?”

“No...” Saihara rubs at the back of his neck, swallowing. “I don’t mind your presence, Amami-kun. Besides... It’s a good opportunity to refresh your memory on where everything is, if what Akamatsu-san says is true.”

Amami hums contemplatively. Kaede just sighs.

“You wanted the refresher, didn’t you, Tarou-kun?” she asked. “You should’ve just said so. It’s not like I would’ve minded. And I don’t think Saihara-kun would’ve judged you.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Saihara agreed, nodding along.

And, so quickly it could have been imagined, Amami saw Saihara’s soft gaze flicker towards him hesitantly before averting just as suddenly. He stiffened for a moment, especially when mentally comparing that look to Kaede’s unwavering, scolding stare, before he just laughed.

“You two are quite the reliable pair, aren’t you? Our class really is fortunate!”

Kaede perked up as Saihara’s face darkened and he immediately denied with, “Not, uh, really, I’m not...”

“Tarou-kun’s not the person who’d bother with false flattery,” Kaede said, quickly but also gently as she flashed him a smile. “Accept his compliments with a smile and a thank you, alright?”

Saihara stares back for a moment, but he does turn to Amami with a small smile and a, “Thank you, Amami-kun.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Amami lies with ease, even as his heartbeat skips. “Well, well, we should go, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes, yes,” Kaede says cheerfully. Saihara nods along.

The tour had been very nice and very refreshing indeed.

The days in general seemed to just pass by with a general ease, even when it came to Saihara being integrated with everyone else.

Because, unsurprisingly, the other classmates take to him quickly. They had quickly taken to Kaede as well. He knows them all well enough to know they’re generally quite the...overly familiar bunch.

Sometimes, he’d see Saihara, and he’d almost immediately call out to greet him. He’d just stop, because he’d then notice Momota happily talking with him, an arm around his shoulders. Or because he’d see that Saihara was already being badgered by Iruma. And sometimes, it’d be because Iidabashi was already calling his name, wanting Saihara’s opinions on some robotics project of some kind. Saihara, who could still be so shy, could converse with their eccentric classmates with a building ease.

It really isn’t a surprise—and really, he’s already used to the situation being this way with Kaede.

He can’t count the number of times he’d see and almost greet his childhood friend, only for any and all words to die with someone else got to her first.

Like when Yumeno took her arm, when Shirogane grabbed her hand, or when Chabashira bumped shoulders with a loud laugh.

And, well, Kaede’s probably been in this very position where he’s involved as well. They’re all friends, after all. It’s a tightly-knit group, all things considered. If Ouma isn’t harassing other students or trying to talk Kaede into joining his secret organization that may or may not have existed, he was latched onto Amami’s arm with a wide grin. Toujou is such an easy person to converse with that he favors her company when times are stressful. Angie’s certainly made sculptures in his likeness as she has with Kaede and the others.

They’re a class. There’s a camaraderie that just comes with being all in the same classroom. Saihara was newer, so some latched onto him quickly. Saihara lacked the usual confidence and assurance—but that, too, was a draw for some of the students.

It’s hardly a surprise. People are social creatures by nature. Even someone like Saihara, in spite of his insecurities, would flourish in a community.

He’s happy for him, of course. He’s a little relieved, absolutely.

Something like that.

...Something like that.

Harukawa has a lovely voice and Kaede plays in a way to enhance it. It always takes some urging, gesturing, and Kaede’s sweetest, rosiest pleading, but there’s no denying that the two of them sound wonderful together. Harukawa sings, voice rising and falling in harmony with the piano keys, and it’s the very essence of grace and beauty.

Of course, Kaede, with her delicate fingers and elegant playing, looked all the more angelic. But, Amami would catch her quick, ardent little glances, the subtle twisting of her smile, and how she colored in just the way it’d be concealed by her blush and the light.

There’s something almost tragically ironic as guys sigh and admire, and Amami would be lying if he said he wasn’t envious. Sweeping his hair from his face, he just sighs on his own, and... Well, he finds his stare wandering over to Saihara, taken and positively fixated with the scene.

Maybe it’s Kaede’s playing. Maybe it’s Kaede’s serene smile. Maybe it’s the way Kaede’s soft blonde hair looks almost like a halo. They all make for a pretty attractive image after all, supposedly.

One time, Kaede tried to lean against the piano in a way meant to be seductive, eyebrows raised and smirk suggestive. Harukawa hadn’t been very impressed, and Kaede was so quick to play the whole thing off as a joke. Iruma laughed at her, of course, as had he, and the usual pretty pink of Kaede’s cheeks burned into quite the furious red.

Kaede playing painted such a different image than Kaede flailing in frustration.

It’s hard not to wonder if both images would be viewed with the same positive appraisal. It’s hard not to wonder exactly what the case would be for Saihara Shuuichi, someone who has the sincerest disposition Amami has ever seen.

One of the sincerest, at least. He might meet someone sincerer with time, some other fool he’ll be a little too fond of. He really should keep his options open, but...

It hadn’t take long for him to realize how much he’s both drawn to and intimidated by Saihara’s sincerity. Saihara with his soft-spoken words and insecure gaze—Saihara who can’t seem to really meet anyone’s eyes is quite the intimidating person.

When Harukawa bows, with that stoic expression, and Kaede enthusiastically applauds while praising her. The audience, as always as expected, follows her lead.

Saihara too, claps hard enough that it almost sounds like it hurts, but he’s pushed back by the crowd of admirers that latch onto the opportunity to fawn over the oh-so-beloved Class Rep and one of the most mysterious class beauties. Saihara rocks on his heels, trying to catch a glance or perhaps trying to catch the slightest sliver of Kaede’s attention, and Amami’s smile strains just a little, just for a moment.

He can’t help but think to himself he’s going to give Kaede a harder time than usual the next time the two of them interact. They’ve been so civil with each other as of late, after all. Picking at one another is such an effective way to relieve their frustration.

But, it’s funny.

When Saihara manages to catch Kaede’s attention, when Kaede laughs and smiles and thanks him for his flattery... The way Saihara blushes so darkly even against his dark, dark hair, and the way he preciously looks down, biting his lip as Kaede so gently teases him...

Frustration has fizzled into something hollow. And Amami is not quite sure what he’s supposed to do about that.

So, he just bows out.

It’s a very rainy day, so the bus is running late. Not that he’s using it, considering his hatred of all automobiles with buses included. The bus stop just makes for a convenient shelter from the rain. His bike is getting even more soaked and he’s already shaking from dampness and cold.

“Tarou-kun?”

Kaede has her pink umbrella, held steadily against the wind with a curious frown. She looked him over, up and down, and her frown twitched, deepening with dismay.

“What did I tell you about remembering to bring an umbrella?” She puts a hand on her hip as she glares. Then she scoffs, “This is what happened when you’re unprepared.”

“But you know me,” Amami replies, light-heartedly as ever. “Just a go with the flow kind of guy.”

“You could catch a cold,” Kaede pointed out, lips pursed.

“Ouma-kun says that’s impossible,” Amami said cheerfully. “Because I’m too stupid to get sick.”

“Urgh, Ouma-kun,” Kaede muttered with a grimace and a roll of her eyes. “I’m going to have to scold him again.”

“You do you, Mom.”

“Wow, gross.”

At Kaede’s unimpressed look, he really couldn’t help but laugh. Kaede kept that frown of hers, but the atmosphere lightened all the same, and she took a seat next to him. Her dripping, bunched up umbrella laid propped up against the bench.

With a hum, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and offered it.

“Here. Wipe your face, at least.”

“Thank you, Kae-chan.”

The fabric is expectably soft, with Kaede’s name embroidered in the corner, but flourished to look like the symbols were the notes on a music sheet, with a curly treble clef in front and a pair of eighth notes in the back. Really cute, and completely expected from the style to the pinkish tint. He hums contemplatively.

“So, what were you doing, Kae-chan?”

“Oh, me?” Kaede blinks back at his glance, but answers nonchalantly all the same. “I was walking Angie-san home. She also forgot her umbrella, you see.”

“Ah, so you shared with Angie-san,” Amami notes, chuckling as his gaze not so subtly flickers down. "That explains how your skirt got wet in spite of the umbrella.”

“Buh! Because she jumped in a puddle!!” Kaede insisted, flushed and fuming. Then with a huff, she turned away in irritation. “I swear sometimes you’re worse than Iruma-san. More insidious.”

“Ooh, that’s a disservice to Iruma-san,” Amami droned. “Because she’s actually a shy maiden, remember?”

“She’s definitely a lot purer than you are,” Kaede said.

“And you, right, Kae-chan?”

Kaede flinched. For a moment, she looked very, genuinely troubled.

Then, shakily, she just laughs.

“That’s... That’s really low... Are you angry at me, Tarou-kun?”

“Oh, no,” he says easily, perking up. “I didn’t really mean anything by that, Kae-chan, I...”

“You’re a liar.”

Ah. Amami shuts his mouth. And she goes on.

“I don’t really have much room to talk, of course... But I like to think I’m managing the best I can... It’s just hard not to fold under everyone’s expectations of me.” She pauses, and then, “I sometimes feel like I’m being dangled like a marionette on strings to the point where my limbs seriously ache... But I can’t just rest. And I can’t just give up, give in, or anything like that.”

“Yes,” he agrees, feeling almost numb. “That is...true, isn’t it?”

“You know it’s the truth, Tarou-kun,” Kaede said matter-of-factly, standing and looking up towards the gray, downcast sky above. “You’re one of few people who do.”

“It’s a mystery how I got to be so privileged,” he replied sardonically, but with a smile playing on his lips.

Kaede just laughs, and it doesn’t sound completely sincere, but it sounds more like her than a lot of the laughs he’s heard throughout their school days.

“It’s a mystery,” she echoes, smiling back at him, looking truly bright against the clouds.

It’s no wonder Saihara-kun and so many others look towards you. He thinks, and despite the strain, his smile widens just a little more. You’re really something else, aren’t you?

Saihara is not the first guy to be taken with his dearest childhood friend. He certainly won’t be the last. He’s not even the first guy that he was taken with, only to be stuck watching them fawn over Kaede instead.

He likely won’t be the last. Kaede’s a wonderful person after all.

It’s not as though he’ll love her any less, even as these unfortunate happenstances keep piling up. And, well, he’s certainly had more than a few of Kaede’s crushes confess to him. And Kaede very maturely didn’t say anything to him after he turned them down, even as some had come crying to her after.

He knows all too well what it's like to cry on Akamatsu Kaede’s shoulder. She must have been very careful, letting them sob into her blouse, holding them oh so gently as she cooed and comforted.

And the most grief she’d give him about it was a pained smile. She didn’t even scold him. And, why would she? He hadn’t done anything wrong, per say.

Still, it was...difficult to take at times. Kaede flailing, Kaede flustered with frustration, Kaede smacking his shoulder and turning away with a high and mighty huff... Those times were so much easier.

But, maybe it’d be easier if he accepted that sometimes, he and his dearest childhood friend truly, genuinely, if only for the moment, resent one another.

It’d make all their mockery and jokes at the others’ expense come across as so much crueler, but, hey, at least the two of them would be honest for once.

It’s just that honesty is a dangerous thing.

He knows it.

Kaede knows it.

Honesty can be really, really dangerous and terrifying.

“Oh, I know that novel.”

“You... You do?”

“Yeah, a senpai of mine really liked it.” Amami smiles as he recalls, “He gushed about it for a while. I never read it myself, but it sounded really interesting. How funny you’re a fan of it too, Saihara-kun.”

“That’s definitely an interesting coincidence,” Saihara agreed. He stares down at his open book in a way that clearly wasn’t reading, and then he asks, “Amami-kun, you seem to like a lot of different novels. Do you have a favorite genre?”

“Oh, hmm, do I seem like the kind of person who does?”

Despite the joking nature of his grin, and the almost sing-song way he asked, Saihara’s eyes sharpened with a sudden focus.

“You pick a lot of different novels, but, more often than not, they have a dystopian setting. About characters forced to survive in either a crumbling society or a chaotic anarchy. It’s interesting you'd continuously visit that kind of plotline...” He trails off, and then, discomfort distorts his features into something more familiar, expectable, but with a more strained version of Saihara’s small smile. “Or, something like that?”

“Your attention to detail is impressive. Was it picked up from reading so many detective stories?” Amami asks, eyes half-lidded with an undercurrent of amusement. “For a second, Saihara-kun almost looked like a completely different person.”

Saihara ducks his head. Almost like he’s ashamed.

“Ah, but, I don’t mind,” he goes on. “Learning more about Saihara-kun is so enlightening!”

“I-Is it really?” Saihara’s almost unspeakably quiet. His eyes are still hidden by those dark strands.

“Saihara-kun,” Amami says, a little duller but also a little sterner. “You really should have more confidence in yourself, I think. After all...” He’s almost immediately back to cheerful smiles and carefree tones. “It’s much more attractive on you!”

Saihara almost scoffs. “That’s... That sounds ridiculous...”

“It’s true!” he insisted. “Keep in mind, I’m not saying insecurity is a repulsive trait. Most people are insecure. But I think that because it’s such a common hindrance, people are all the more drawn to those who can overcome it with supposed ease. Even people who seem really confident themselves will admire someone who exudes the same level of assurance.”

Saihara blinks at him, eyes looking awfully wide.

“I think one of the most common human desires is to be reassured, be it in that their feelings are validated or that there’s perhaps hope for them in one regard or another,” Amami’s smile widens as he lays his head down upon crossed arms, eyes positively twinkling. “Do you perhaps feel the same way, Saihara-kun?”

“I...” Saihara hesitates. “I, I just...”

“Haha, you don’t have to answer now. I do feel this way quite strongly, but I don’t mean to make the atmosphere so heavy,” Amami practically chirps, “Cheer up, cheer up, it’s just me!”

“Sometimes I really have to wonder about your seriousness, Amami-kun,” Saihara mutters. “Akamatsu-san said something similar to that, but...”

“Oh dear, has Kae-chan been gossiping? I expected so much better of her!”

“It’s...not like that... Akamatsu-san, she...” Saihara almost hisses as he seems to struggle with the words. His frustration is almost palpable, and enough to get Amami’s smile pulling into a downwards frown. “I just...”

“Hey, Saihara-kun, how close would you say you are to Kae-chan right about now?”

“Huh?! I—! T-That’s...!” Saihara’s back to being all flustered and stammering. “I-I haven’t been here for that long, Amami-kun! So how... How am I supposed to...?”

“Well, she’s pretty fond of you,” Amami says matter-of-factly. “When we’re together and when we talk about you, Kae-chan always has nice things to say.”

“Oh, does she...?” He’s definitely embarrassed, and he’s definitely happy if the tugging smile at his lips is any indication.

“Kae-chan likes you,” Amami says, and then, almost blankly, “Just like how she likes everyone.”

“Akamatsu-san’s that kind of person...” Saihara mumbles, nodding in agreement. He didn’t seem to notice. That should be a good thing. But he doesn’t feel all that good when Saihara glances back up at him with an almost rueful smile. “Even if she’s kind to me, I doubt she sees me as a close friend like she does with you, Amami-kun.”

“Ah, but, close friends are all we are,” Amami replies coolly.

Is that really true? It’s not like all close friends are confidants.

Saihara just smiles more, even though it’s clearly forced. “If that’s what you say...”

“You don’t believe me?” he asks, curious. "Do I really come across as someone who would lie about that, Saihara-kun? Especially after all this time?"

“It’s not that you lie, per say...” Saihara muttered, quietly and almost with frustration. “But I can’t help but suspect there’s more to what you do say... Amami-kun.”

“Oh, that’s cold,” Amami says, folded hand against his cheek. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I would’ve thought that’d imply at least a little faith.”

“I-It’s not that I think you're a bad person... You’re free to keep secrets to yourself...”

“Then what’s with that troubled expression, Saihara-kun?”

Saihara doesn’t answer. And so, Amami stood, pushing himself up.

“Come to think of it, I’ve seen Kae-chan with that face before,” he starts, humming contemplatively. “It’s not like I don’t understand. I’ve been around enough people to pick up on how they are.”

“Amami-kun...”

“Saihara-kun,” he returned, seriously enough that Saihara shut his mouth, letting Amami go on, unimpeded. “I really like you. You’re the kind of person that’s easy to root for. Almost an underdog, of sorts, except I think such a term downplays your talents. But, would you like me to be honest?”

“I...” Saihara hesitated. “When you say honest, what do you mean exactly?”

“Oh, that’s an interestingly phrased question,” Amami noted, impressed. “But, of course, what I mean is that I’m going to say something you don’t want to hear. I’ve been sparing your feelings up until now, but it’s starting to risk outright dishonesty towards you. I don’t really want that.”

Saihara swallows, and though he’s still speaking quietly, there’s a firmness to his tone as well. “If you have something to say, you should say it.”

...That's definitely something Kae-chan would say. He can’t help but think. His smile falters. If nothing else, her admirable traits have rubbed off on you. But you’re still so adorably reserved.

“Kae-chan...is off limits, you see.” He’s almost careful in how he words it. Almost. “I was not lying about Kae-chan being my friend and nothing more, but that doesn’t mean I tolerate other guys trying to pursue her.”

“That’s...” Saihara snapped up, almost disbelieving. But he keeps his stare down, muttering, “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

That isn’t obvious?

“Well, of course there is. People and their relationships are complicated. I, Kae-chan, and our relationship are not exceptions. But you’re not going to get a detailed explanation on that from me.” His smile saddens, just a bit. “I’m sorry, Saihara-kun. That’s a little too personal.”

Saihara stands, almost knocking the chair back, and he’s much louder than before.

“Amami-kun...”

Amami simply pushes in his chair, humming as he did.

“Amami-kun.”

Saihara’s normally soft voice is harder, more aggravated. He’s never heard it quite like that before. He can’t say he’s too fond of it. In the very least, he’s definitely not happy about it.

“I am terribly sorry for not speaking up sooner,” Amami finds himself saying. “As I said, I didn’t wish to upset you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, Amami-kun?” Saihara asks, clenching his fists tight. When Amami doesn’t immediately answer, and just keeps on smiling sadly, Saihara slams his hand down on the table’s surface. “Please, just say something!”

Amami didn’t even flinch. His smile just pulls down a little more.

“Please don’t hurt yourself, Saihara-kun.”

Saihara doesn’t say anything to that. He just draws his hand back, sighs, and shakes his head before shutting the still open book. He returns the book to its place on the shelf. He had marked where it had been earlier—Saihara really was such a diligent person.

Amami tugs a bit at his cover, noting that Saihara’s eyes are almost completely hidden by those dark blue strands. He can’t help but think about how there’s probably a reason that Saihara has allowed his bangs to grow so long and doesn’t even bother to clip them back. Flickering his gaze downwards, Amami gives a sigh of his own.

“Saihara-kun, if you’re angry at me, I understand.”

“I’m not angry,” Saihara says, but he’s still not looking his direction at all. “I’m just very frustrated, Amami-kun. How am I supposed to understand your feelings if you don’t talk to me? I’m not a detective.”

“You are very perceptive,” Amami argues. “And you’d be very dependable—if only you just had more confidence...”

Saihara trembles for just a bit.

“Even if it’s something you can say easily...”

“No, I didn’t mean to imply anything untoward,” he quickly says. Maybe, just maybe his usual smile is more forced this time. “I haven’t forgotten that you do try, Saihara-kun. My memory is terrible, but—I do try to remember significant things.”

Saihara looked at him this time. Saihara’s gentle gaze then was—very sad, honestly. He wonders how his smile must look now when it doesn’t feel like anything.

Have I always felt this way? Have I always been this way?

Goodness. What a despairing thought.

“Amami-kun... I...” Saihara hesitated, but then, with surprising assertion, he said, “I’m going to talk to Akamatsu-san about this.”

“Do you think you’ll get a straight answer from Kae-chan?” A bit of detestable resentment tugged at the edge of his smile. “Okay. Go ahead, Saihara-kun.”

“I...” Saihara swallowed, but then, “I will.”

With that, Saihara left with purpose. He pulled himself away from the scene with such drive that really, Amami could have resented him too.

You’re supposed to be reserved. It’s part of what makes you cute.

Having such resolve is...really intimidating, Saihara-kun.

His face felt hot. He really couldn’t tell from what. He really—wasn’t sure what he’d do if he realized.

A part of him hoped to forget it quickly—and another wanted to hold onto it tight and never let go.

How troublesome.

His mind went mercifully blank soon enough. He can’t really remember what happened or—how he got here, for that matter.

He does vaguely recognize these flowers. Oh, he knows the type without a doubt—red tulips, right? His parents had considered naming their third daughter that, but it was too eccentric of a name, so they went with Sumire, instead—but he’s struggling a bit to recall which class planted and tended to this garden.

No one in our grade, right?

Humming thoughtfully, he presses his chin into his palm, elbow digging a little harder into his lap.

Oh, yes, wasn’t it one of the classes below ours...?

“Tarou-kun.”

He perks up, and turns with a carefree smile and a cheerful greeting as would be expected.

“Ah, hello, Kae-chan,” Amami pauses, taking her in, the way golden light is casted against her, still making her look so bright in spite of how darker it was getting outside. He soon goes on, “Lovely, isn’t it? Our underclassmen sure are an impressive bunch.”

Kaede doesn’t say anything.

And he laughs.

“I’m really glad you’re here, actually. As happy as I am to have found this garden, I have no idea where I am.” His smile widens, just a bit more. “I’m hopelessly lost, Kae-chan.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she replies quietly. “I figured you would be.”

“Oh, you really do know me so well!” he chirped.

...doesn’t she?

“Tarou-kun,” she says, and she doesn’t miss a beat. “You told Saihara-kun the truth.” There’s barely even a pause. “Why?”

He blinked a few times, perhaps taken aback or taken by confusion. But he sees that her fists are tightening.

“He confessed to me, Tarou-kun.”

Oh, so he did.

“So he did...” he muses aloud, almost absentmindedly. He chuckles, but it’s blanker, more obviously vapid. “Well, obviously, you turned him down. I hope he didn’t get upset.”

“Saihara-kun, he...” She trails off and stops before shaking her head. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

“Well, of course,” Amami says easily, still with that shallow smile. “Saihara-kun is such a likeable person. And so endearing. I’m definitely quite fond of him.”

“I...” Kaede hesitates, and then, “I’m sorry, Tarou-kun.”

“For what?” he asked. This time, he’s nothing but confused. His posture’s straightened. He’s gotten more attentive.

“I think... Saihara-kun will grow to like you quite a bit, too...” She goes on, quietly and almost sheepishly. “You’re a good person, and...you have your good points... As your best friend, I know that better than anyone... So, surely, Saihara-kun will...”

“Kaede.”

She stops almost immediately.

Then, with a sigh, she returns, “Rantarou.”

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” he says, and he’s looking back at the flowers.

And so they don’t.

Instead, she wipes her hands off her skirt. Instead, she kneels by his side. Instead, she bumps him with her shoulder. She bumps him twice, in fact.

She’s not really looking at him. It’s almost like she’s ashamed. Like she feels guilty. Or maybe she’s just upset. But, eventually, she glances back, meeting his gaze and—her usually stern eyes look almost...piteous.

Something inside him is bubbling up, harsh and hot—and whatever it is just fizzles completely out when he leans in, presses his face into her shoulder, and lets out a coldly cheerful laugh.

“Kae-chan,” he starts. “I’m sorry.”

Kaede is very, very still at first. Slowly, but surely, her arms begin to circle around him.

And he just can’t stop talking.

“I really quite liked Saihara-kun.” His whisper is as soft as it is smooth. Like stating a cold fact. “I really liked him, but, Kae-chan, I’m starting to wonder if I’m even capable of having deeper feelings for someone like that. I don’t—I like him, but I don’t...”

He hasn’t started shaking. But she holds him as if he has, tight and close.

“Kae-chan, how long have I been this worryingly shallow? Do you know? Kaede, do you know? Have I always been this way?” He laughs and, “How despairing—that’s so despairing.”

“Stop. Just—stop talking like that.” Kaede took a deep hitched breath and pleaded, “Please.”

He does. He’s quiet. So quiet it’s a wonder if he’s breathing. He’s not even sure himself if he is.

“Tarou-kun,” she says. “I’m...sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I forgive you.”

He doesn’t struggle in saying that. Not even a little.

Neither of them don’t say anything else. Kaede just gives him one last squeeze before the two of them really have to be on their way. And, almost like she’s worried about him drifting off and away, she grips his hand tightly as she tugs him along.

There’s a nostalgia to this moment, but—

While Kaede no doubt recalled it, he simply couldn’t remember at all.

He doesn’t say anything about that, either, unsurprisingly.

The daylight of a school morning was as bright and imposing as others, with many missing the fleeting taste of their three-day break. But the students were quick in catching up and bustling, laughing about what happened on their eventful or not-so-eventful days, and as always, Kaede was quick in greeting everyone with a wave and a sunny smile. She shone as always, perhaps even more so due to the recent piano recital in everyone’s minds where she played spectacularly and movingly. As always.

There’s some distance between the two of them, and he doesn’t mind at all. He really doesn’t. Kaede is laughing, Kaede is smiling, but there’s a cold silence whenever they brush past each other and—it’ll pass. It’s passed before and he can’t even remember what their last slightly significant feud was even about.

So this too, will pass, and he’ll forget all about what caused it. So someday, it’ll be insignificant.

Insignificant—

“Oh, Saihara-kun,” Kaede says, a little too loudly to be natural, but still as friendly as ever. “Good morning!”

He looks back. Saihara has tensed, but he nods, not meeting Kaede’s eyes—he never meets anyone’s eyes, does he—and despite everything, he manages a small smile.

“Akamatsu-san,” he returns, shutting his eyes and smiling a bit wider, even with that tense little corner of his lips. “Good morning. It’s good to see you’re doing well.”

Amami moves without thinking, and he really isn’t thinking about how Kaede nods back, how Kaede waves one last time before being on her way, and how—how Saihara stares after her so pensively, so full of thought and emotion.

“Saihara-kun,” he says, getting Saihara’s attention. Saihara perks up, turns back, but he quickly ducks his head.

“Good morning, Amami-kun.” His voice is low. Everything about him is as uncertain as it is—tense.

It’s a kind of stiffness that hurts a little.

But still, he laughs, lightly as always.

“Haha, greetings, greetings, Saihara-kun. How was your break?”

“Oh...” Saihara paused. “It was nice.”

“Oh,” Amami says so brightly. “How good. I’m glad. Did you visit your uncle?”

“Yes...” He nodded quickly. “I did.”

“Oh, was he of good health?”

Another nod.

“I see, I see. How nice. I...”

Really? He stops himself. For just a moment as thoughts come through. You’re seriously bothering with a one-sided conservation this dreary? Something you’ll undoubtedly forget the second it’s over?

“I...”

How disgusting.

“I’m... I’m glad. Haha. Haha.”

And yet.

“You seem to be doing well as well, Saihara-kun. How lovely. I’m glad.”

Have you always been this way?

“Thank you...” Saihara’s almost too quiet. But he’s still being polite, even when so uncertain. “Um, Amami-kun, look...”

“Huh, huh?” He tilts his head, smiling and feeling nothing of the sort. “What is it, what is it?”

Why?

“Akamatsu-san...turned me down as you probably guessed,” he mutters it, like it’s something he’s not sure if Amami knows already or not. That’s fine. That’s fine. “But we’re still friends so I’m...alright.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Saihara goes on. “I’m fine, really—it hurts a little, but I know I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Haha. That’s great. I’m glad.”

Why?

“Um...” Saihara hesitates just a little move, never meeting his gaze or his smile. Amami’s eyes are shut, but he knows well enough how Saihara’s physically reacting without the need to see it for himself. “So... Ah. I...also wanted to...”

“Wanted what?” he asks cheerfully.

“Um...” Saihara hesitates even more. He shuffles uncomfortably under a cool, blank green gaze. “I just wanted...”

Amami waits.

“I wanted to know if you were alright,” Saihara mutters, fixated on some indistinct corner. “We’re also friends so, if something’s bothering you, Amami-kun...”

“Oh...” He just smiles more. “Haha, I’m fine. But thank you for worrying about me, Saihara-kun.”

Please help me.

“It’s nothing,” Saihara says, shrugging. “I mean, we’re friends so...”

“Oh, of course,” Amami agrees. Distantly, except he sounds as he always does, smiling merrily as he always is. But—for some reason, he reaches out and—

So very gently—

He brushes the hair from Saihara’s face to get a proper look at his eyes. Saihara’s pretty eyes going immediately wide and—ah, that’s definitely fear like one would see in a cornered animal. That’s definitely alarm and there’s never been a sound that’s resounded in his head quite as much as that of Saihara slapping his hand away.

His hand stings. He thinks. He doesn’t really feel it, even as he rubs at it.

“O-Oh...” Saihara’s completely lost face and confidence now. He looks beyond guilt-ridden and apologetic. He swings down for a bow. “I’m—I’m sorry! I just... I’m so sorry, Amami-kun... I’m so sorry...”

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he says. He’s still smiling. “You’re still a very good friend, Saihara-kun.”

Saihara flinched at that. But otherwise, he seems to be paralyzed.

Thankfully, Amami can tell with a quick glance that no one’s really paying attention to them—at most, their gazes are very purposely avoidant. It’s a good thing none of their nosier classmates are present. It’s fortunate.

“I’m very sorry, Saihara-kun,” Amami goes on. For once, his tone is a little lower, more solemn. “Ah, please forget about all this. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine—and I’ll be seeing you, Saihara-kun.”

Saihara perks up, just a little, slowly straightening himself but not quite.

“Amami-kun, I...”

I really like you.

For a moment, his smile feels pained.

But that moment soon passes.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Amami repeats, and he goes on his way.

“I’ll...see you...” Saihara tentatively responds as he does.

For a while, he can feel Saihara staring after him, no doubt worried and uncertain, and for a while, he quickens his pace just a little until that feeling goes away.

There’s a glare through the windows from the sun, and with a grimace, he threw his arm up to guard his eyes from it.

#AmaSai #Amamatsu #rantarou amami #Kaede Akamatsu #Shuuichi Saihara #KaeMaki #RantaShuuKae #ShuuKae #new danganronpa v3 #Maki Harukawa #Magi Fics #Next story will definitely be all about Kaede and how gay she is #But for now I think Amami provides the softest start #Maybe Shuu will get his story too I mean #The symbolism's set up for it

131 notes · View notes

cut-off-the-grain · 8 years

Text

They Say It's Your Birthday!

A birthday present (it’s not late in certain time zones!) for the darling @obsessions-and-dreams who has been nothing but a sweetheart and so welcoming since I joined this crazy little fandom very recently. She said she likes fluff, and pet names, and kissing and touching in general, which explains why I like her so much, becuase I love all of those things too.

Happy birthday, I hope you enjoy this half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It’s the gentle waves breaking against the shoreline below the window that wakes him, glittering sun slipping through gauzy curtains.

When they arrived the staff had rushed to assure him, unprompted, that their quarters had the best view in the whole of the palace, in the whole of Naboo, and it’s true, he’s certain, but only because Kylo is still asleep beside him, shifted near in the night, dark curls mussed and covering half his face, a deep, wine red bruise in stark contrast to china-fine skin even in the softly filtered sunlight high on his neck, where even the highest of collars won’t disguise it.

When he finally slips from the bed and walks out into the front antechamber the tray of food he requested is waiting for him, left there by soft-footed servants in the early light of dawn. He picks it up and carries it back to the bedroom where Kylo is just beginning to stir, blinking slowly into the streaming sunlight, the sheet falling down to reveal more of his magnificent body.

He wears luxury well. He still trains near daily, and his corded muscles still flex prominently beneath his skin when he moves, but there is a certain softness now, to his hips and belly, the barest of give to his strong thighs that Hux loves to press his greedy fingers into, loves to bite his adoration into, so that later he can catch the flickering of Kylo’s expression when he shifts and the skin pulls taut, a reminder that while the galaxy and all the wonders it holds may be theirs, he will always be what Hux treasures most.

“What’s that?”

“Breakfast.” He sits the tray on the ornate bedside table and selects a slice of melon, ripe and fleshy, off it. Kylo reaches out to take it when he sits on the bed, tilts his head in confusion when Hux pulls it back and clucks his tongue in disapproval before understanding sharpens his gaze. He leans forward, mouth open, and lets Hux place the morsel on his tongue, catches Hux’s finger between his teeth and swipes the point of his tongue over the captive digit before he releases it.

After he swallows he opens his mouth again, lips sticky.

“Another, my love?”

He nods.

Hux kisses him, chases the tangy sweet burst of juice clinging to Kylo’s lips with his own, kisses him some more simply because he can before he picks up another piece. This one he lets Kylo pull from his grasp with his teeth.

He let’s Kylo gorge himself on fruit and kisses, hand feeds him each bite, tangles fingers tacky with drying juice in his hair, licks the juice from his mouth and steals the breath from him lungs, kisses the bridge of his nose and the smooth skin of his forehead, mouths at the tiny creases settling in the corners of liquid dark eyes (and, if he had to choose, he thinks perhaps that’s his favorite part of Kylo’s face, those gently feathering lines, because he has watched them form and grow with each sun-bright smile, each laugh which puts the best musicians to shame).

“Darling,” he croons, when Kylo moans against him and rolls his hips up. “Sweetness, my treasure, we have all day.”

“All day?” he asks, skeptical.

“Yes. It’s your Life Day, my love.” He nuzzles his cheek against Kylo’s, presses his lips against his ear. “Since you refused to let me throw a parade in your honour so that the galaxy you rule could come worship you as you deserve, I decided I would worship you instead.”

He scatters a trail of kisses down his chest, over the broad expanse of muscle, breaths deep the clinging scent of musk that pools along his breastbone, chases it like a hound down to the path of hair which starts below his navel.

He rocks back on his knees, insinuates himself between the sprawl of warm thighs and simply surveys the beautiful sight before him. Kylo, eyes twisted shut in pleasure, the muscles in his belly twitching, so sensitive they jump at shifts in the air. The twisted scar on his side, now faded to a silvery pink, once a sign of defeat, now just a landmark on the map of the man he so loves, a mark of strength and determination. The scar on his face, the one he always kisses so tenderly, so softly, because he knows how even now Kylo despises it, thinks it makes him ugly and deformed, always trying to hide it, to turn it away, until Hux is forced to trap him with a hand to his cheek, to lavish it with kisses while he whispers “Oh, my love, my darling, my beautiful, precious boy, there isn’t a single part of you I don’t love.”

And there, at his temples, are a few sneaking silver hairs. He has fought for the galaxy, has killed and nearly been killed in his quest to rule, to conquer. But here, now, with Kylo trembling and needy beneath him, he dreams only of a day when he can hand his rule off to a worthy successor and retire somewhere quiet, perhaps to a coast much like this one, and he can spend every morning hand feeding a grey-haired Kylo.

That dream, he knows, is a long way off. But today, if only for these few tucked away hours, he has no responsibilities but to adore his darling boy.

“Kylo,” he croons as he bends down, splays his hands over his hips and presses his mouth to the straining cock caught beneath the fine cotton of his sleep pants. “There are those who would see me brought to my knees. But for you, my beloved, I go willingly.”

It’s true that Kylo had refused a parade, uncomfortable with the idea of so much fawning attention focused on him (no, he wilts under too many eyes upon him, truly only flourishes, blooms bright and happy and radiant under Hux’s steady gaze) but as official consort to the Emperor a certain amount of ceremony is still required.

The compromise was a dinner. The great echoing hall is packed with foreign dignitaries, some allies, some potential allies, some barely avoiding the label of hostiles. But they all fade into the background, unimportant, when Kylo sweeps into the dining hall in his grand robes of gold, his saber a deadly reminder hanging on his belt, a net of gold, interwoven with diamonds which catch the light and throw it back in dazzling, near blinding rainbows with every movement, resting on his head.

(“A gift for my Life Day?” Kylo had asked him when he presented him with it earlier in the evening.

“No,” he answered as he settled the airy thing on it’s nest of dark curls. “Seeing you in it is a gift for myself.”)

He sits at the head of the table, Kylo resplendent beside him, outshining even the diamonds in his hair.

The meal is served but he pays it little mind, focuses instead on Kylo. He holds his hand, on top of the table where everyone can see, propriety be damned, because Kylo is his, and anyone who thinks his love for this darling man a weakness is a fool. He holds his cup to Kylo’s kiss bruised lips, feeds him sips of wine which stain his mouth a dark red Hux is incapable of not leaning across to kiss off.

Feeling particularly brazen, he brushes his fingers over the inky bruise which sits high and proud over his collar. He feels the eyes of the other diners on them, his only regret that he is forced to share the beauty of Kylo’s blush with them.

He doesn’t need the Force to feel the jealousy of everyone else in the room.

Conversation ceases the instant he raises from his seat.

He has addressed troops by the thousands, has negotiated treaties with millions of lives hanging in the balance, but suddenly, for the first time, he’s nervous, feels his palms go clammy with sweat when Kylo looks at him.

“It is traditional,” he starts, “to gift presents on someone’s Life Day. As I am the Emperor, however, I am free to ignore tradition as I see fit.” He relaxes, just a bit, just enough he’s sure only his sharp-eyed love notices, when they all chuckle politely. “Kylo, my dearest, with you by my side we have conquered the galaxy. You have given me so much, that it seems unfair to ask you for anything more, especially today.”

At this he kneels, lifts Kylo’s hand, cradles it between his own.

“But today, I ask one more gift from you. I ask for your hand.” He kisses the knuckles he has seen bloody and bruised, has seen clenched in anger and seen gone white as he grips bedsheets in the throes of pleasure. “And I ask to be allowed to call you my husband.”

Later, he doesn’t recall what the other guests did, only remembers the fierce embrace Kylo pulls him into, face buried into his shoulder as Kylo sobs, shoulders trembling as Hux soothes him with a hand on his back.

“Yes,” he gasps, in a soft whisper which travels no farther than the two of them. “Yes, of course. Hux, I want, I love, I can’t believe- in front of everyone.”

“I told you, my love. My dearest. My darling. The light of my life. For you, I will gladly be brought to my knees.”

#kylux #fic #i can' t stop writing about these two send help #the softest of soft kylux #someone needs to teach my how to do cuts because this is getting a little out of hand

22 notes · View notes

marvelist · 8 years

Text

Untitled Soulmate AU shenanigans, aka the rip my heart out edition :o)

Pairing: Lin Shu/Jingyan, Mei Changsu/Jingyan (LS and MCS are just extremely close brothers in this, no twincest, sorry.) Author: Marvelist Warnings: None yet, I don’t think, except that it’s currently unbeta’d and may differ slightly from the official AO3 version. Part: 2 of 10(??! maybe?) Continued from here. Summary: Lin Shu sometimes forgets that their soul bond goes both ways, and that Changsu knows how he truly feels.

Soulmate au where Lin Shu has not one but two soulmates: Jingyan, the love of his life and dearest childhood friend, and Mei Changsu, his beloved sickly twin who’s desperately in love with Jingyan.

To Changsu’s surprise and Lin Shu’s cautious delight (and against his doctor’s grim prediction that Changsu wouldn’t last the year), Changsu lives through the winter.

And the next.

Jingyan is relieved, which Changsu can read on his face and in his meticulous care, even if he can’t feel it in his heart. Jingyan takes to carrying him more, personally moving him from room to room instead of allowing the servants to do it, citing that he can only trust in his own strength to protect Mei Changsu. Lin Shu teases him, claims that if he doesn’t let Jingyan carry him around, he would be wasting all the time Jingyan spends in the gym just for this purpose.

Jingyan, tellingly, doesn’t deny it.

Changsu protests at first, of course he does, for more reasons than just his pride. But the crestfallen look Jingyan struggles to hide, the worried and resigned nod he gives at Changsu’s demand that Li Gang be called for the task instead chips away at Changsu’s will of fire, causes it to collapse completely into ashes when Jingyan does nothing more than tuck a blanket around Changsu’s form, gently sweeping his hair from behind his back to keep it from being twisted and pulled when Changsu tosses and turns in his sleep.

Changsu can't help but still feel like he's a burden on his family, though he can see the lessened lines around his mother's eyes as each season passes, and take warmth in the way his father's laugh booms even louder around the house during the holidays. And his father is around more, deliberately halting his plans for the international takeover of a company he’s been eyeing for over a decade, spending that time instead on conference calls with medical specialists, hoping to find a cure for his son. Sometimes, when Changsu’s appetite strangely returns in the middle of the night and he doesn’t want to disturb the servant’s sleep, he’ll make his way down slowly to the kitchen and catch his father yelling threats or begging entreaties into the conference phone in his office, to some doctor with an ego on the other side of the ocean.

His appetite will flee him then and he’ll just sink in the chair his father keeps there in the hallway, back against the wall until his father emerges. It’s like a ritual between them now. His father will yell at some strangers, and then stick his head out looking for Changsu. “Xiao Su,” his father will say warmly, hands helping him up into a hug as he walks Changsu into his office domain.

They’ll have hot chocolate then, the real kind, the one his father insists on with a block of rich chocolate on a stick, hypnotically stirred into a cup of slowly heated milk. Changsu likes to pull the stick up every once in awhile, allowing the chocolate to make odd designs on the swirling milk. Once all the chocolate has melted off the stick, his father will update him on the doctors he thinks have promise, and try to make him laugh with stories of the ones that are obvious quacks.

Changsu laughs every time, even if the stories aren’t all that funny.

His beautiful mother, on the other hand, is gone more often than not.

“Of course I’m tired of going to these things, xiao Shu, but a strong social network is just as good as having a team of power assistants at your beck and call. One of them will have to know someone of use to your brother,” she tells Lin Shu one day, when they think he’s still napping. She settles down gently next to him on the couch cushion, hands warm and soft as she checks his temperature.

So yes, he feels like he’s a burden to his family, but he also feels loved. And that makes the guilt all the worse.

It doesn't help that when Jingyan gets deployed again for special forces, Lin Shu is stuck at home with Changsu instead of fighting by Jingyan's side, protecting his back as a good soul mate should.

Lin Shu announces that being a soldier is boring, tedious work, that there's no reason they have to follow in their father's footsteps and that Lin Shu doesn't want to follow anyone else's orders anyway, especially if they're going to come from some high handed team captain.

Never mind that the team captain would have been Jingyan.

Lin Shu sometimes forgets that their soul bond goes both ways, and that Changsu knows how he truly feels.

Changsu fiercely misses Jingyan too, worries about him though he never claims his pain to be as deep as his brother's, being that his fate isn't tied to Jingyan's. Every day that Jingyan is gone, Lin Shu curls up in bed next to Changsu, urging him to keep his sickness at bay because, "Jingyan will never forgive himself if you leave him while he's gone. He'll waste away to a husk of his former self, being grumpy at everyone and everything and then you'll be stuck with an even thinner ghost when we come join you in the afterlife. Who wants to hug such a skinny ghost? It's pointless. So you have to beat this pneumonia, you have to survive for Jingyan, b-brother, you're not warm enough, here, chew on some of this ginger."

Winter rolls into Spring a month later and Changsu beats the pneumonia, only to regret it immediately after when Lin Shu decides that he's well enough to go pick up Jingyan at the military base. While Changsu would very much like to see Jingyan again, he doesn't want Jingyan to see how much he's wasted away from fighting for his life during this last bout.

Lin Shu and Changsu look nothing alike, not anymore. Though born as identical twins, the intervening years of sickness has wasted Changsu away to where strangers mistake them as close friends, rather than closer brothers.

Changsu doesn't want Jingyan to see his gaunt cheeks, his delicate and weak wrists that can barely hold a weapon. But more than that, he doesn't want to see Jingyan's concerned face and the following guilt bloom in his expression, the doubt plainly seen about whether he could have prevented this if he'd stayed home instead.

Changsu pleads, cajoles, bargains and even out-logics Lin Shu to let him off the hook, but Lin Shu is even more stubborn than Changsu, and so Changsu finds himself walking gingerly along the military tarmac, their caretaker Li Gang carefully supporting his arm as they make their way towards Jingyan's debarking plane.

Lin Shu fidgets in place, fingers tapping restlessly at his thigh as they unload the urgent supplies under a clear blue sky, until Jingyan's handsome face appears as he goes down the ramp. And then Lin Shu is off, tearing his way past the other soldiers to leap into Jingyan's arms. He's twirled once, twice, the weight of Jingyan’s military kit threatening to throw him off balance before Jingyan holds him tight and kisses him.

Changsu's happy grin wavers, shakes minutely with intense longing, before it returns bigger than before, slotted into place just before Lin Shu turns and leads Jingyan towards him. Changsu hadn’t noticed how tense Lin Shu had been before Jingyan’s return until he sees how happy and relaxed he is, now that he’s got his true soulmate back by his side. The stress lines on his face seem to melt away, and he’s nothing but smiles.

Changsu jolts when he realizes that Lin Shu hasn’t truly smiled, not for awhile now.

Jingyan smiles widely at Changsu, gripping him by his shoulder with the hand not currently wrapped around a happy Lin Shu. Changsu barely stops himself from leaning into the touch. Instead, he tightens his grip on Li Gang and leans more against him. Li Gang obligingly shifts his weight to accommodate him, simultaneously fussing with Changsu's coat collar.

"I didn't think I'd see you here. It relieves me to see you're doing better." Jingyan squeezes his shoulder, his genuine smile adding credence to his words.

"I was nagged into being better. It wasn't like I had a choice," Changsu teases. It backfires though, when the comment only makes Lin Shu look even prouder of his accomplishment.

"I understand. Who can actually say no to Lin Shu?" Jingyan returns with some wry humor. Neither of them ever has.

"Mother does," Lin Shu intones lowly. "She does it all the time."

“Thank heavens at least one of us does. It’s almost like she’s carrying a ward charm against you,” Changsu quips, turning to make his way back to the check-in gates. With how slow it’ll take him to get there, it’s better to just talk and walk. Changsu has always liked multi-tasking.

Jingyan gives Lin Shu a besotted look and last squeeze before smoothly inserting himself in between Li Gang and Mei Changsu. He seamlessly slots in as a support, wrapping his other arm around Changsu’s waist. Changsu shoots an alarmed look back at Lin Shu, who’s ignoring them completely and enthusiastically asking Li Gang about his new recipe, and whether using ghost peppers would cause the flavor to go sour.

Li Gang, the traitor, is happily responding back.

“You’ve lost some weight.” Jingyan sounds disappointed by this but from his expression, it looks more like he’s disappointed in himself. Mei Changsu nips that in the bud.

“Pneumonia.” He touches the hand wrapped around his waist, letting Jingyan know that it’s not his fault. “It’s hard to eat when you can’t breathe. I was on a liquid diet for some time.” It’s not your fault, nothing that happens to me is your fault, Changsu thinks his way but doesn’t bother saying. Jingyan wouldn’t believe him anyway. Even the constant ache in his chest from not being Jingyan’s soulmate is not his fault, or anyone’s fault. “You’re not responsible for my well-being or my health, Xiao Jingyan. So stop worrying about it.”

Jingyan frowns with affront. “Not responsible? If only I’d found you two sooner, you wouldn’t have had to-”

“That’s irrelevant,” Changsu cuts him off, careful to keep his tone even, careful to cut the guilt short. Lin Shu doesn’t need to hear this. It’s the same argument every time Changsu suffers through a health scare, and he’s starting to get weary having to constantly justify his actions from years ago to everyone. Tired of hearing how Jingyan only takes care of him out of a sense of obligation and guilt. “You were barely a child yourself. Lin Shu is my brother and my soulmate, it’s hardwired in me not to let him die. Just like it’s hardwired in you to keep him happy and safe. Do you deny it?”

“No,” Jingyan concedes, after a few seconds of unhappy silence. “Does it not occur to you that keeping you happy and healthy also translates to keeping xiao Shu happy and safe?”

Changsu dips his head, turning it so his hair falls forward to hide his face. He knows Jingyan isn’t saying that to hurt him, isn’t truly equating him to a burden that’s on a checklist, to be ticked off along with a few other menial tasks to keep Lin Shu happy, but it hurts all the same.

Without Lin Shu, he’s no more important to Jingyan than a casual acquaintance, to be discarded from his mind the moment he leaves.

Oh. I should have known. I already knew that he didn’t love me so why am I so...

He pushes away from Jingyan and stumbles, distracted as he is from watching the ground, and Jingyan makes a noise of frustration. Changsu barely has a moment to gather himself before Jingyan bends and sweeps Changsu up into his arms, supporting him by his knees and back. Habit ingrained through years of repetition, Changsu grasps onto Jingyan’s shoulder. Lin Shu rushes towards them, worriedly asking what’s wrong while Li Gang deftly checks his vitals.

“Nothing’s wrong. Jingyan. Put me down.” Changsu says it coldly, as authoritative as he can with his dignity being usurped. He looks at some point just over Jingyan’s shoulder, unable to meet Jingyan’s eyes, or even Lin Shu’s. He ignores Li Gang completely as the man tries to take his pulse. Other soldiers are watching them, some even bravely waving at Jingyan as they pass even though Jingyan shows no signs of seeing them.

It’s always been that way. Once Lin Shu is around, Jingyan only has eyes for him.

“Jingyan, ignore him. If he’s feeling faint then he doesn’t deserve to walk.” Lin Shu frowns and mumbles irritably, “We should have brought the wheelchair.”

It’s these uttered words, the last proof he needs that he shouldn’t have come today, shouldn’t have let Lin Shu change his mind, no matter how much he’d quietly longed to see Jingyan again. Coming here was a mistake.

“Xiao Su,” Jingyan calls softly, his breath warm against Changsu’s cheek, waiting for something, anything. When Changsu remains quiet, refuses to even look at him, he sighs and resumes walking towards the exit, carrying Changsu with no effort at all.

This is the last time, Changsu promises himself, ignoring Lin Shu’s and Li Gang’s fussing, Lin Shu’s simmering anger and unease pressing on their bond. I won’t be a burden to them anymore. I refuse to hold them back, to be the debt and wall between them. Not for any of them.

With this new conviction in mind, Changsu finally relaxes in Jingyan’s hold, resting his forehead against Jingyan’s neck, his arms tightening around him. Jingyan makes a noise of surprise, but doesn’t question him.

This is the last time. So just this once, let me hold him back.

TBC

#nirvana in fire #琅琊榜 #mei changsu #xiao jingyan #lin shu #mei changsu x jingyan #lin shu x jingyan #langya bang #my fics #fanfic

18 notes · View notes

microcos-pod · 3 years

Text

Bonus Episode #2 - Spring Cleaning

(Dr. Emily Macey does a bit of tidying up.

Transcript begins below break.)

MARSHA Have fun with your Spring Cleaning, Emily!

EMILY Thank you, Marsha.

MARSHA And a lovely weekend!

EMILY You, too, dear.

MARSHA S- OH! That's right!

[Emily hums in confusion.]

MARSHA (CONT'D) Nearly forgot! I was told to remind you on behalf of Ms. Lacount that your voicemail is full? May want to take care of that among your other chores, just to be sure. Because... Well, you know how she can be.

EMILY I certainly do... I'll put it at the top of my list.

MARSHA Thanks, dollie.

I've gotta get going now, I don't wanna be late. Jeanette said she'd be waiting outside on that new motorcycle she got last week, and well, I'll say those wheels aren't the only thing that's smokin-

EMILY Yes, thank you, you'd better be off, then.

MARSHA Right. You have a fabulous night, now, I'll see you Monday!

[sfx: retreating high heeled footsteps, sorting through a drawer]

EMILY Night's agenda...

Send organized files down to the archive... respond to Octavia's email... reach out to the decommissioning floor about the recent faults in their performance reviews... sweep... mm.

Voicemail it is. Let's see...

[sfx: button press]

RECORDED EMILY You have reached Head of Mission Oversight, Dr. Emily Macey, at Omni-Corp Headquarters. Clearly, I couldn't answer your call right now, but if you leave a message I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible. If there’s an emergency, the Omni-Corporation hotline is 1-4-3-5-5-3. You should be able to find what you're looking for there. If you wish to schedule an appointment with me, the number you're looking for is that of Mrs. Marsha Francis, which can also be found upon calling the hotline. Thank you. And... work well.

[sfx: beep]

VIOLA Good evening, Emily! You have 15 missed messages.

Monday, January 25th, 1:29 PM.

[sfx: beep]

CHARLOTTE Dr. Macey, I really wish you would pick up right now. I am currently speaking with your... associate. Mx. Abbott has once again taken to interrupting my recording of the new advertisement, saying they had simply... forgotten what day it was. And although I am quite sure you took the time to inform them that the area was in use, I would take kindly to any help you could offer to keep them... out of my hair as I try for a fourth time to record this commercial. Thank you in advance. Work Well.

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Monday, January 25th, 1:30 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES Hey, Em. I just got shooed out of the corridor by Charlotte again. Bull if you ask me- I mean, who records some big important announcement in the middle of the hallway?

Regardless, she said she was gonna call you if I didn't scram so, knowing she'd call you anyways since I'm just a child in her... weird, silvery eyes... I figured I'd just check in. It wasn't my fault though, okay? She just... I thought she was being nice, right? Like I walked in, clearly upset and she said in that voice, you know the one, "If it isn't Mx. Abbott. What in the world can I do for you?"

I mean, you know how she can sound sometimes! How was I supposed to know it was sarcasm? I didn't realize she could do sarcasm!

So... I thought she really wanted to know, and... listen, it isn't my fault, alright? I mean, the only reason I was so upset and out of it in the first place was because of that new guy they just hired. Justin... Jared... Whatever his name is...Jason. That's the one. Well, anyways, he storms into my workspace talking about "time management" and "team effort" and was just going on and on and on... And the whole time I'm sitting there messing with my keyboard, and he's just not getting the hint, right? And I'm tuning him out and thinking, 'god who does this guy think he is?' And I don't do anything because of course-

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Monday, January 25th, 1:32 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES Damn recorder cut me off. Anyways, probably too long of a story to tell over the phone, so can we maybe get lunch? Something? I dunno, when are you free? Call me back.

Never mind, you haven't checked your voicemail since the dinosaurs... I'll just call your cell.

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Tuesday, January 26th, 9:15 AM.

[sfx: beep]

MARSHA Emily your 9:30 just rolled in early. Oh god, you're not gonna listen to this are y-

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Tuesday, January 26th, 10:08 AM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES Morning, Em! Hope you had a good breakfast... got some good coffee... I was just hoping to see you today? I don't know if you listened to the voice mail I left on your cell, but... I'd still be down for lunch if you're not too busy? Just give me a call... or just stop by the AI floor and I'll take a break.

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Tuesday, January 26th, 5:37 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES I had a really great time at lunch today! Thanks... thanks for the food... and... and the talk. It was really nice. I lo-. Nope. Jesus, Miles. Nope. Sorry. By-

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Friday, January 29th, 11:53 AM.

[sfx: beep]

MAN I hope your morning is finding you well, dear Doctor. Hopefully you're feeling well rested enough to get those reviews over to me, finally. And I know you're very busy, but so am I, and I still manage to get my work done in a timely manner. It's been a full day now, and I'm beginning to grow impatient. We have a mission to launch in a little over a month, now, and any delays will not be tolerated. Get those updates to me by the end of the day. I trust you won't let me down, Doctor Macey.

Again.

[sfx: beep, a click] EMILY Oh, for God’s sake...

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Wednesday, February 10th, 1:24 PM.

[sfx: beep]

ARCHIE Hello there, Dr. Macey and Dr. Macey's voicemail! It has been sooo long since I last heard from you! Looks like... We're going on 16 hours and 34 minutes. Sad. Missed you dearly.

[sfx: Jiminy makes the sound of an audience sighing sadly]

ARCHIE (CONT’D) As did Jiminy.

[sfx: Jiminy makes an affirmative beep]

ARCHIE (CONT’D) Now, I know what you're thinking: "Archie, my beloved, dearest, most amazing friend down at Public Affairs, why ever could you be calling instead of walking down to Mission Oversight and gracing me with your amazingly talented presence?"

And while, yes, I'm ever so flattered, Emily, I simply do not have the time, as Mr. L has just saddled me with this new project he wants me to advise. Yuuuuck, I know.

[sfx: Jiminy plays the sound of descending, disappointed trombone]

ARCHIE (CONT'D) So, to keep this short and sweet, just wanted to remind you that you, yes you, our lucky winner-

[sfx: Jiminy begins a drumroll]

ARCHIE (CONT’D) - are, in fact, in charge of sending out corporate invitations for this weekend's Valentines' party!

[Archie cheers.]

[sfx: Jiminy plays the sound of party poppers and a cheering crowd]

ARCHIE (CONT'D) Yes, yes, all 132 of them! How fun!

Oh, and maybe bring some of that expensive champagne that Constantine gave you back in Janurary to share with your old pal Archie, too, while you're at it? Pleeaase?

Mm. Well, that's all, then! See you there, friend! Work well!

[sfx: Jiminy chirps a goodbye]

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Tuesday, February 16th, 12:23 PM.

[sfx: beep]

FELIX Hello, Dr. Macey. Just calling to ask for a bit of help. I've just gotten these new samples into the laboratory, and I'm afraid I'm not sure on whether they're up to... Mr... Lacount's standards. I thought it might be best for another pair of eyes to look over the work I've done on them, and I'd very much appreciate any insight you'd have, as Head of Mission Oversight. Ahhh... thank you. Yes. Please get back to me... I am... very worried about this. Thank you so much.

[sfx: beep, a click]

EMILY Oh, Doctor...

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Thursday, February 19th, 2:45 PM.

[sfx: beep]

CHARLOTTE Good afternoon, Doctor Macey. Ms. Lacount has instructed me to tell you that she is... "So sorry she was unable to attend your little Valentine's Day get together."

EMILY (overlapping) Of course.

CHARLOTTE (CONT’D) She also apologizes for the late apology. Thank you for your time! Work well!

WOMAN Charlotte, darling, would you mind contacting my cousin about the-

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Wednesday, March 3, 7:16 PM.

EMILY March...

[sfx: beep]

[Emily sighs.]

[sfx: banging pots and pans, kitchen sounds on the line]

MARSHA Hi, just checking in that you know Mr. Wright is coming to see you tomorrow morning? He just called to ask me if you knew and I told him yes, of course, obviously! Because, of course, I didn't wanna say anything that might get you in trouble, but I didn't actually know if you knew that he knew that you probably didn't know that he was stopping by. So I just figured I'd remind you?

You know, actually... I'm kind of wondering how he got my personal phone in the first place? Is that something you have listed on a file he's got access to?

Oh, not that it's a big deal or anything! Just that we're in the middle of making dinner is all and-

Oh god, we were in the middle of making dinner. I've gotta go Emily, my marinara's gonna burn if I don't get back to it and Jeanette's gonna tease me about it. Oh god, I've never not burned the sauce, it was gonna be the one time I got it good. I always tell her, I've got it this time and- you know you don't need to hear this, and I've gotta go, I was just letting you know.

EMILY Marsha, Marsha, Marsha...

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Thursday, March 4th, 10:23 AM.

[sfx: beep]

MARSHA He's um... He's here Em. Looks real important and everything, checking his watch and things. Hope it goes well.

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Friday, March 5th, 2:51 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MAN Dr. Maaacey...

Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk ... I've told you time and time again, just because you wish to spend your time playing Mummy with Petty Officer Abbott in AI does not mean you can-

[Emily sighs heavily.]

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Monday, March 8th, 3:26 PM.

[sfx: beep]

CHARLOTTE Good afternoon, Dr. Macey. Mr. Wright has asked me to inquire about the follow up you two discussed upon his visit. He was hoping you could provide him an update on Otis's situation with any new information you have as soon as you are able. We both thank you in advance. Work well!

[sfx: beep, a click]

VIOLA I've deleted the message. Wednesday, March 24th, 2:28 PM.

[sfx: beep]

MILES Hey... Emily. So... guess we're leaving tomorrow.

Yeah, you know that already, Jesus, sorry, I'm just... I'm... I'd just like to see you one last time before we leave, I guess... if you... have a minute...

I'd just like to say goodbye before I leave... Call me back.

VIOLA End of cataloged voice mails. Would you like to play again or delete?

Emily? Please press 1 if you'd like to play again, press 2 if you'd like to delete, or press 3 if you'd like to-

[sfx: beep, typing]

EMILY Done with that chore, I suppose.

***

[THEME MUSIC FADES IN]

ANNOUNCER Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast.

This bonus episode, Spring Cleaning, was written by Luka Miller and Jesse Smith, edited by Jesse Smith, and directed by Jesse Smith, Luka Miller, and Lauren Tucker. It starred Lauren Tucker as the voice of Dr. Emily Macey, Luka Miller as the voice of Marsha Francis, Jackson Rossman as the voice of Miles Abbott, Kaleb Piper as the voice of Felix Couvillion, Ventus as the voice of Anonymous Caller, Griffin Berlstein as the voice of Archie Armstrong, Val West as the voice of Charlotte, and Lark Ophelia as the voice of Emily's personal AI: Viola, with additional voices by Briar Zachary. Original music by Julia Barnes, and sound editing by Jesse Smith.

Be sure to stay tuned to our feed for upcoming episodes from the new backpacking intergalactic adventure from Futuristic Trail Mix Productions.

Enjoying the show, and want to give us a boost? You can support us by rating and reviewing us on iTunes, or wherever you get your podcasts, or telling a friend about us.

We'll be returning from our hiatus shortly. Episode 6 of Micro-Cosmos, Flowers in the Storm, will be released on June 21.

To follow the show and find transcripts, you can find us on Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram as @MicroCosPod. Questions, comments, and concerns can be emailed to us via [email protected].

Thank you for listening. [THEME MUSIC FADES OUT]

***

#Microcosmos #micro-cosmos #microcospod #microcos pod #micro-cosmos podcast #science fiction #sciencfiction #science fiction podcast #new podcast #audio drama #audiodrama #Podcast Recommendations #fiction podcast

2 notes · View notes