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weekendlusting · 21 days ago

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A TALE OF FAME

pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

chapter ꪆৎ 4

summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

The streetlights cast their golden glow on the slick cobblestone streets, as Monaco’s night embraced the quiet lull after the evening crowds had long since dispersed. Ahaana Patel had just finished another grueling reading session for Jigra, this time with Vedang Raina, her co star who plays the "jigra" in the movie, and Vasan Bala, the director of the movie.. The call had been buzzing with activity, the air thick with anticipation for the movie’s impending launch. But as she made her way through the still night, her mind wandered, caught between the excitement of returning to Bollywood and the unease of stepping back into a world she had once distanced herself from.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. A quick glance at the screen revealed a message from Karan Johar, the producer who had not only rekindled her Bollywood career but was also, for better or worse, the force that pulled her back into this whirlwind. Ahaana smiled at the message: "Remember, tomorrow's reading important. Don't overthink it!"

Her smile faded as she shoved the phone back into her bag. It wasn’t just the upcoming filming that had her thoughts in a frenzy. The rain started slowly, as if the weather itself had decided to add an extra layer of drama to her already chaotic emotions. It drizzled gently at first, but quickly grew more intense. She was about to pull her umbrella out when a sudden gust of wind caught her off guard, flipping the umbrella inside out. With a frustrated huff, Ahaana gave up and wrapped her arms around herself, quickening her pace as she made her way toward the coffee shop she had promised herself as a refuge for the night.

Monaco had a way of shifting moods within hours, and the glamour of the Grand Prix could never quite prepare someone for the kind of solitude one might encounter in the city’s winding streets. The lights from cafes and bistros flickered softly, but the rain blurred their reflections, creating a dreamy, almost surreal atmosphere. Ahaana welcomed it—she needed this. A quiet moment where she could collect her thoughts and prepare herself for the whirlwind to come.

Her shoes splashed against the wet pavement as she hurried forward, the rain now soaking her to the bone. She didn’t mind—though it was cold, it was somehow soothing. The slight discomfort of the wet clothes reminded her that she was still human beneath the polished image people expected of her.

As she rounded a corner, her phone slipped from her hand, landing with a soft thud in the nearest puddle. Her breath caught as she quickly crouched down to retrieve it, wiping off the water that had already soaked into the screen.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath, before looking up.

It was then she heard the sound of an engine revving, the smooth hum of a car pulling up beside her. The headlights cut through the dark as the vehicle slowed down to a crawl. Ahaana barely had a chance to look up before a familiar voice broke through the quiet night.

"Underwater yet?”

She looked up, startled, only to meet Charles Leclerc’s amused face, framed by the dark interior of his sleek, black car.

“You seem to have a knack for finding me in the most inconvenient moments,” Ahaana said, her voice tinged with sarcasm but a playful glint in her eyes. She could feel her heart rate pick up slightly at the sight of him, and she tried to mask the sudden flutter with a nonchalant tone.

Charles raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. You seem to be doing quite well in your little adventure out in the rain. But if you’d like, I can offer you a ride.” He paused for effect. “Unless you plan on swimming to where you're going?”

Ahaana was about to brush him off, but something about his voice—calm, caring, and teasing all at once—made her pause. She glanced up at the coffee shop, now barely visible through the rain, and then back at Charles, his car still idling, waiting for her response.

“You don’t have to do that,” she began, though her body language was already betraying her. The chill from the rain was seeping deep into her bones, and she wasn’t in the mood for another cold walk to her destination. She shivered involuntarily as the wind picked up. “I’m sure your car is far too nice to have someone like me soaking up the seats.”

Charles chuckled, a warm, easy sound that seemed to cut through the damp night air. “It’s closer than that coffee shop, and I’m guessing you’re already a little too wet to care about how nice my car is.”

Ahaana tilted her head, her expression a mix of amusement and hesitation. “You know, you’re really hard to say no to.”

“I’ve been told,” he said, grinning as he opened the door to the passenger seat. “Come on, get in before you turn into an ice sculpture.”

Despite her internal resistance, Ahaana found herself walking toward the car, stepping in and shutting the door behind her. The warmth of the car enveloped her, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief as she settled into the plush seat. She immediately reached for her damp hair, trying to push it away from her face, but the rain had soaked through so thoroughly that it didn’t seem to matter.

Once inside, Ahaana groaned, pulling at her soaking wet sleeves. "Ugh, I’m going to catch pneumonia."

Charles reached into the backseat, pulling out a hoodie. "Here."

She hesitated before taking it, slipping it over her damp clothes. It was warm, slightly oversized, and smelled exactly like him—clean, fresh, with just a hint of something she couldn't quite place but immediately liked.

She let out a dramatic sigh. "I guess you’re not the worst Monaco tour guide. But only because you came with amenities."

Charles shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he started the car. "And here I thought I was making an impression."

Little did she know, she was making an impression on him instead.

“So,” Charles began, after a few moments of comfortable silence, his tone light but laced with a curiosity she hadn’t expected, “how’s Jigra going?”

Ahaana glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Not what I was expecting as small talk, but sure,” she said, her voice laced with mock surprise. “I thought you’d ask about something more stupid, like how you noticed my shirt is absolutely see through right now.”

Charles smirked at that, "Oh I definitely noticed that." To which Ahaana let out half a chuckle and a scoff. “But, I’m more interested in what’s really going on. Jigra is a big deal, right? Can I ask why? I mean this isn't the first intense film you've done, from what Max told me. And by his reaction that day I'm guessing there's more to this.”

“Keeping tabs on me are you?,” she teased, trying to lighten the tension in her shoulders because of his question, her gaze briefly drifting to the window as the rain slid down the glass in rivulets.

She turned back to look at Charles's magnificently handsome face, only to see him with a raised eyebrow as if asking her to elaborate. She sighed and said “It’s nothing. It's just something happened during my last film that I haven't quite gotten over yet. Of course I want to do this film, it's a great role, Satya is an amazing character to play. But it's not the acting I'm scared off, it's just weird for me to go back to film city right now.”

“Well, I don’t see you as the type to get scared of anything. I think you're gonna be just fine.” Charles’s voice was teasing, but it was also full of sincerity.

Ahaana’s gaze flicked back to him, and for a moment, their eyes locked. There was something about his presence—so steady, so grounded—that made her feel like she could exhale for the first time in weeks.

“You’d be surprised,” she said quietly. “I’ve had some time away from acting, and the pressure... it’s not what I remember. It’s a lot harder to let go of all the expectations people place on you.”

Charles looked at her thoughtfully, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “I get it,” he said. “The weight of it all, the constant eyes, the pressure to keep being perfect. It’s exhausting. I’ve been there.”

Ahaana regarded him carefully, intrigued by his response. “So what do you do when it gets too much?”

He shrugged, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I just keep going. It’s all you can do, right? And sometimes, when things feel a little too heavy, you find ways to laugh. You keep yourself grounded.”

Ahaana chuckled, her gaze softening. “I could use more of that, I think.”

“I can help with that,” he said, his voice playful but sincere. “I’m pretty good at keeping people grounded. Or at least distracted.”

“You seem to be very confident in your abilities,” Ahaana teased, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion.

“Well, I have to be,” Charles said, his smirk widening. “It’s part of the job description.”

The light banter helped break the tension, and Ahaana found herself more comfortable than she had expected. The warmth of the car and the easy rhythm of their conversation was soothing in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

They drove the short distance to Charles’s apartment in comfortable silence, the kind that only happens between people who don’t need constant chatter to fill the gaps. When they pulled into his garage, Ahaana looked up, taking in the sleek, modern building, the lights inside casting a warm glow across the driveway.

Charles parked, turned off the engine, and immediately got out of the car, moving quickly around to her side. As soon as the door opened, the cold hit her like a wave, and she stepped out gingerly, wrapping her arms around herself to try and stave off the chill.

“Come on,” Charles said gently, offering her a hand. His touch was warm and steady, and for a moment, Ahaana hesitated before taking it. His fingers curled around hers, firm but gentle as he led her through the entrance of the building.

As they walked through the door, Charles led her into the living room, which was a spacious, airy room filled with muted tones and sleek furniture. The whole place had a modern but homey vibe—like the kind of space someone could live in without it ever feeling cold or sterile. There was a large window that framed a perfect view of the glittering city below, the occasional car headlights cutting through the rainy night. It was peaceful.

“You can sit here,” Charles said, gesturing toward the sofa. “I’ll get you a towel.”

Ahaana lowered herself onto the soft cushions, still shivering as she wrapped her arms around herself. She felt self-conscious for a moment—being in his space, accepting his help—but her exhaustion, both physical and mental, quickly overtook that discomfort.

She looked around, her eyes landing on the sleek glass coffee table in front of her, the coffee cups left casually on the surface. It was clear that Charles’s place wasn’t overly formal, but it also wasn’t careless—it was a place he seemed to have carefully curated for his own comfort. And somehow, that made it feel even more personal.

Charles returned a few moments later with a thick towel in hand, his expression soft but determined. “Here, let’s get you dried off a bit. You’re absolutely freezing.”

Ahaana took the towel from him, a little reluctantly at first. But then she let out a small sigh and began drying her hair, pressing the fabric into her scalp to soak up the moisture. The heat from the towel, along with the warmth of the room, felt like a relief she hadn’t realized she needed. She could feel her body finally starting to ease into the comfort of the moment, though she couldn’t entirely shake the tension in her chest.

“Such chivalry,” she teased, her voice softer now, probably because she was freezing. “You sure you're not doing this to get laid Leclerc?.”

Charles, who had settled himself on the opposite end of the couch, looked at her with an expression that was equal parts amused and understanding. “Ahaana,” he began, his voice low and husky, sending a chill down Ahaana's spine, she didnt't know it was because of him or the cold, “Trust me baby, if I wanted to seduce you I wouldn't be offering you more clothes right now.”

Ahaana laughed, and just shook her head. “Alright, alright, knock it off.” she said, her voice lighter now. “I’ll take advantage of your hospitality for now.”

Charles chuckled, and for a moment, they simply sat in silence, letting the quiet fill the space between them. The steady beat of the rain outside continued, creating a rhythmic soundtrack to the peace that had settled over the apartment.

The soft hum of the rain against the windows had begun to settle into the background, a calming melody that accompanied the flickering warmth of the lights in Charles’s apartment. Ahaana, now thoroughly dried off, had settled back onto the couch, wrapped in the plush towel like a cocoon. The cold was starting to fade, and with it, the tension in her body. Still, there was a softness in the air, the kind that made it easy to stay in the moment without thinking too far ahead.

Charles, having noticed her growing comfort, stood up and moved to a nearby closet. “I’ve got a shirt you can borrow. It’s not fancy, but it’ll keep you warm.”

He returned with a simple black T-shirt in hand and offered it to her with a warm smile. Ahaana took it with a quiet, grateful nod, and without thinking much of it, slipped it on. The fabric, soft and oversized, enveloped her like a second skin. It was exactly what she needed—a little comfort, a little security.

Charles took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, his eyes never leaving her as she adjusted the shirt. “There. Much better,” he said, his voice easy and teasing, but with an undertone of something deeper—something that lingered just beneath the surface.

Ahaana chuckled, running a hand through her damp hair, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. “I feel like I’m wearing a blanket,” she said, adjusting the shirt, feeling the coolness of the fabric against her skin. The way it hung on her made her feel both cozy and oddly exposed. “It’s... comfortable, though. Thanks.”

Charles nodded, still looking at her with that relaxed smile of his. “You’re welcome. And now, how about some coffee?”

Ahaana raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “That sounds like heaven.” He grinned bright, moving toward the kitchen.

Ahaana smiled as she settled back into the couch, her legs folded under her. The apartment was quiet now, save for the rain that pattered against the windows. Charles’s space felt more like a retreat than a home—a sanctuary of sleek, minimalist design with subtle hints of personal warmth. The dim glow of the lights created soft shadows around the room, highlighting the simple elegance of his furnishings.

When Charles returned with two mugs of steaming coffee, he handed one to her before sitting down. He took a deep breath and let the steam rise from his cup, savoring the warmth before looking back at her.

The soft hum of the rain against the windows and the warm, cozy glow of Charles’s living room created an atmosphere that was far from what Ahaana expected when she’d stepped out of her hotel earlier that evening. Her clothes were still a little damp, but the T-shirt she’d borrowed from Charles fit her in that way that made her feel comfortable yet oddly aware of the fact that it wasn’t hers. It was just the right amount of snug, and the familiar scent of Charles’s cologne lingered faintly on the fabric, making it hard to ignore the closeness between them.

As she sat on the couch, sipping the coffee Charles had thoughtfully handed her, she felt an unexpected sense of ease. The tension of the evening—the rain, the rush, the impromptu ride—had faded into something softer, something gentler.

Charles had settled back in the armchair across from her, his gaze not quite focused on anything, as if he were trying to read her. She noticed how he ran his hand through his hair absentmindedly, the gesture casual but endearing. The way he looked at her, though—there was something undeniably different about it. She could feel it in the air, in the way he leaned forward slightly, as if he were hanging on to every word she said.

"Not bad, huh?" Charles finally spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. His voice was warm, easy, like the most natural thing in the world.

Ahaana took a small sip of her coffee, then met his eyes with a playful grin. "Not bad at all. This whole place—it’s very… you."

Charles smirked, clearly amused by her response. "I like to think it’s got a little charm." He leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I mean, it's not a mansion or anything, but it’s home."

Ahaana tilted her head, glancing around the sleek apartment. The minimalist décor, the soft lighting—it did have a certain charm, but there was something else about it. It felt warm, lived in. "It’s… very cozy, actually."

Charles’s expression softened a little, and he smiled. "Cozy is good. I like cozy." He paused, and for a moment, the easy banter they’d been sharing turned into something a little more genuine, a little more introspective. "I guess we all need a place where we can just… be ourselves, right?"

Ahaana thought for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee mug absentmindedly. "Yeah," she said quietly, her voice soft but steady. "I think I’ve been looking for that. A place where I can just… not be in the spotlight for a while."

The vulnerability in her voice didn’t escape Charles’s notice. He shifted in his seat, leaning slightly forward. "Well, you’ve got it here, Ahaana. No one’s watching. Just… you and me."

Ahaana caught the glint of sincerity in his eyes and felt a flutter in her chest. She wasn’t used to moments like this—moments where everything wasn’t so complicated. The world outside didn’t matter in this little bubble they’d created, just the two of them, drinking coffee in the glow of candlelight, the rain outside acting as a backdrop.

Before she could respond, Charles gave her a playful grin, as if the moment had slipped back into something lighter. "Hey, you know," he said, tapping his mug with his fingers, "I think this might be the most spontaneous evening I’ve had in a while."

Ahaana chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "Spontaneous? You almost ran me over in the rain. I’d call that an accident, not a plan."

Charles laughed, the sound easy and light. "Okay, fair point," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "But I’m kind of glad it happened."

Ahaana raised an eyebrow, her smile playful. "Really? You’re glad I nearly got hypothermia?"

He shrugged, the corners of his lips curling up into that endearing half-smile that she’d already come to find impossible to ignore. "Well, maybe not the getting drenched part. But I don’t mind the company."

Ahaana felt a warmth spreading through her chest, not from the coffee, but from his words. There was something so easy about Charles—the way he didn’t overthink things, the way his humor made her forget about the little worries she carried with her. He didn’t expect anything from her, just… enjoyed being around her.

"I guess I don’t mind the company either," Ahaana said, her voice a little quieter this time, but the smile on her lips was genuine.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. The silence between them was comfortable, almost like it wasn’t something that needed to be filled with words. Ahaana let her gaze wander, noticing the subtle details of his apartment again—the simple elegance of it all, the way the dim candlelight made everything feel more intimate, more… personal. She hadn’t realized how much she liked being in his space until now. It felt welcoming in a way that she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

Charles broke the silence with a half-laugh, pulling her attention back to him. "You know," he said, his voice a little quieter, "I’m not used to being so… relaxed. It’s kind of nice."

Ahaana leaned back on the couch, glancing at him through half-lidded eyes. "Well, maybe you should get used to it. Relaxing seems like something you don’t do enough."

He tilted his head, meeting her gaze with a hint of something deeper, a subtle curiosity. "What makes you think that?"

Ahaana shrugged, tapping her mug gently against her lips. "Just a feeling. You look like you could use more quiet nights, less racing around the world."

Charles looked at her for a long moment, his eyes flicking down to her lips before meeting her eyes again. For a brief second, something in the air shifted between them—something that made her heartbeat skip a little. The way he looked at her, the way he was so unguarded in that moment, it made her feel like she was the only one in the room.

Before either of them could say anything more, the lights suddenly flickered. Both of them looked up in surprise as the apartment was plunged into darkness.

"Great," Charles muttered, but there was no frustration in his voice. It was more an amused sigh, as if this was just another one of those small, inconvenient moments that life liked to throw at him.

Ahaana couldn’t help but laugh at the timing. "Seriously? What is it with tonight and things going wrong?"

Charles smiled, shaking his head. "You should’ve stayed in your hotel room."

But Ahaana, her lips curling into a playful grin, leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "I’m glad I didn’t. It’s… more interesting this way."

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her response. "More interesting, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice light, but there was something in it that made Charles’s heart beat a little faster. "You’re not so bad to hang out with."

Charles let out a small laugh. "I try my best."

Charles quickly got up and dug up some candles to help. Charles placed the candles and Ahaana lit them up using the lighter, both working like a well oiled machine in silence.

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room, creating an intimate ambiance that seemed to cocoon the two of them in a little world of their own. Charles’s eyes never fully left Ahaana’s, even as she casually took another sip from her coffee. There was something magnetic about her tonight—something that made him want to keep her here, to keep talking to her, to keep feeling like the moments they shared weren’t just fleeting.

The rain continued to tap against the windows in soft, rhythmic beats, the sound almost comforting in its consistency. Outside, Monaco was bathed in soft lights, but inside Charles’s apartment, the world felt small and quiet—just the two of them, the gentle hum of the night, and the occasional flicker of the candle.

Ahaana shifted in her seat, adjusting the shirt of Charles’s she was still wearing. It hung loosely on her, the sleeves slightly rolled up, revealing a glimpse of her toned arms. The comfort of the shirt seemed to settle her into a kind of quiet relaxation that had been absent earlier in the evening, when she was still tense from the cold rain and her doubts. Now, she felt lighter somehow—lighter, and more at ease.

Charles watched her, his gaze softening as he saw the shift in her posture, the way she almost looked like she belonged here, in this moment, in this space.

"Are you sure you don’t mind me staying?" Ahaana asked, her voice soft but carrying a hint of uncertainty. She had been a little hesitant to let herself fully relax, but the night had unfolded in ways she hadn’t expected. It was strange, staying at someone’s place in the middle of a rainstorm, especially when that person was someone who had been slowly worming his way into her thoughts more and more.

"Are you kidding?" Charles said with a smile, his tone light, but there was an earnestness beneath it that caught her attention. "It’s late, and it’s a downpour out there. You’re not going anywhere." He didn’t make it sound like an imposition; if anything, it came off as more of an invitation, a quiet assurance that this moment wasn’t just a passing thing.

The room fell into another moment of comfortable silence, but this time, it was different. There was a certain ease to it, a kind of understanding that they didn’t need to fill the space with words all the time. They both seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, yet still very much present with each other.

Charles broke the silence, his voice soft. "You know… I never really get nights like this. Where everything just feels… simple. Easy."

Ahaana turned to look at him, a little surprised by his admission. She’d never expected him to open up like that. He had always been the one to deflect, to keep things light. But tonight, it was as if the walls between them had started to come down, just a little bit.

"Yeah?" she asked, her voice almost gentle now, as if she, too, was starting to understand just how rare this moment was.

"Yeah," he replied with a smile that was almost shy, as if he wasn’t used to sharing this side of himself. "I’m usually running from one thing to the next, you know? Racing. But this… this feels different, refreshing."

Ahaana tilted her head, watching him closely, her gaze thoughtful. "I get it," she said after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like that too. Like I’m always… running. Running from something, or towards something, but never really stopping to… just be." She didn’t realize how much she had said until the words were already out. But once she’d said them, it was like a small weight lifted off her shoulders. Talking about it didn’t seem so hard anymore.

Charles was quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving hers. The intensity in his gaze made her feel both exposed and understood. He wasn’t judging her; he was just listening. And in that moment, Ahaana felt a shift—a subtle change in the air. She wasn’t sure if it was just the night, the rain, or the quiet intimacy of the moment, but something between them was starting to change.

"I think I know what you mean," he said, his voice steady, yet there was a vulnerability in it that she hadn’t expected. "Sometimes it’s hard to just… be. But tonight, it feels okay. With you."

She smiled, her heart fluttering lightly at the sincerity in his words. "Yeah," she agreed softly, her voice barely audible. "Tonight feels okay."

A few beats passed in silence, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt full, complete. As if they had said everything that needed to be said without really saying it all.

Then, Charles stood up suddenly, drawing her attention. "You want some more coffee?" he asked, his tone light but sincere, like he was trying to keep things casual, even though everything inside him was starting to feel… different.

Ahaana nodded, not trusting herself to speak at first, so she just watched him move around the kitchen, preparing another cup for her. She felt the pull between them intensifying with every moment. Every glance. Every word. Something was happening, something neither of them had expected.

And Ahaana, despite her usual reservations, couldn’t deny it anymore. There was a growing connection, a magnetic pull that she couldn’t walk away from, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise.

When Charles came back with the coffee, their hands brushed as he passed it to her, and for a brief moment, the electricity between them crackled again. Ahaana glanced up at him, their eyes meeting in a long, silent exchange, and she couldn’t help but feel the shift in her heart.

The air between them crackled, and Ahaana couldn’t deny it anymore. There was something building. Something… undeniable.

She looked at him now, watching him with an intensity she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. His features were soft in the candlelight, the slight stubble on his chin giving him a rugged edge that contrasted with the quiet warmth of his eyes. There was a sincerity in his gaze, a depth that made her heart flutter and her thoughts scatter. The way he looked at her made her feel as if she were the only person in the room, the only person that mattered.

Charles noticed her gaze, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. His heart beat a little faster. There was something about the way Ahaana looked at him—something that made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t in a long time. The teasing, the playful banter—they had all melted away, leaving only this unspoken tension between them. He couldn’t quite place it, but he knew it was real. He knew that this—this—was something that wasn’t just going to slip away.

His eyes lingered on hers, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn’t until the silence stretched just a little too long that he realized he was leaning forward slightly, drawn in by the magnetic pull between them. He didn’t want to move too quickly. Didn’t want to make it awkward or force something that wasn’t there. But the way her lips parted ever so slightly, the way her chest rose and fell as she exhaled—he could feel the heat between them, the undeniable tension in the space that neither of them had been able to ignore.

Ahaana, too, felt the tension, the charged energy swirling between them. It was like something was building, an invisible force that neither of them could quite name, but both of them were painfully aware of. Her heart was beating faster, her breath coming a little more shallow than usual, and she felt that familiar pull toward him, a magnetic force that made her want to close the space between them, to see where this moment could go.

She swallowed, and for a brief moment, she considered pulling away. But the thought was fleeting. She didn’t want to walk away from this, not tonight, not with him. Something about being here, in this space, with him—it felt right. She had spent so much time running from feelings, from connections, but with Charles, everything felt like it was aligning in ways she couldn’t explain.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, she leaned forward just a fraction, her eyes never leaving his. The space between them was so small now, so unbearably close. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, could smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the rich, earthy aroma of the coffee. Her pulse quickened, and she wondered if he could feel it too.

Charles, his heart racing in his chest, felt the air shift once more. He could barely hear the rain anymore; it was just the sound of their breath, the beating of their hearts that filled the silence. Everything else fell away, and for that one charged moment, it was just the two of them. He could see the vulnerability in Ahaana’s eyes, the way her lips parted ever so slightly, like she was holding her breath, waiting for something. He couldn’t help but lean in just a little more, his body betraying him as his mind tried to process what was happening.

“Charles,” Ahaana whispered, her voice soft and tentative, but there was a hint of something else in it now, something unspoken that made his chest tighten. She was so close now, too close, and yet she didn’t pull away.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow breath, as if trying to steady himself. He was so close to her now, he could almost feel her heartbeat matching his. He could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the hesitation that still lingered. And yet, something told him that she wasn’t pulling away, that she was waiting for something, just like he was.

His hand moved almost without thinking, gently reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face, the simple gesture sending a rush of warmth through him. As his fingers grazed her skin, he felt an electric jolt shoot through him. He hadn’t meant to touch her like that—not in this moment—but it felt… natural.

Ahaana’s breath hitched at the touch, and her eyes fluttered closed for a second, the heat of the moment washing over her. When she opened her eyes again, they were locked on his, the distance between them barely a breath apart. She could feel the tension between them building, the charge in the air almost unbearable. She could feel her own pulse quickening, and for a split second, she thought about pulling back. But she couldn’t.

Without even realizing it, she leaned in just a little closer, her body moving toward his as if guided by some invisible force. The intensity in the air was palpable now, thick with unspoken words, unspoken desires.

And then, as if the universe itself had decided to intervene, the moment stretched just a fraction too long, and neither of them could hold back any longer. Charles’s gaze dropped to her lips, and he could feel his own lips part slightly, his breath coming faster. Ahaana mirrored his movements, her lips trembling ever so slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed the final bit of space between them.

Just as their lips were about to meet, the thunder cackled very very loudly outside, lightening up the room more.

Both of them froze. The tension snapped, and the moment was broken—shattered by the sudden power outage.

For a split second, they just stood there, their faces inches apart, both breathing heavily, both still caught in the aftershock of what had almost happened.

Ahaana was the first to pull away, her breath a little unsteady. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to apologize. "Well… that was… unexpected," she said softly, her voice breathless.

Charles let out a nervous chuckle, his hand still hovering in the space between them, his fingers twitching as if they were still reaching for her. "Yeah…."

Ahaana glanced around the room, now lit only by the flickering candlelight. The entire ambiance had changed—still charged, still full of possibility, but now laced with a touch of awkwardness that neither of them knew how to navigate.

"Well, um we should go to bed," Ahaana said, trying to lighten the mood, though her voice still held that slight tremor from what had almost happened. She couldn’t look at him directly; instead, she focused on the candle flame, the dancing light keeping her from meeting his eyes.

"Yeah," Charles replied, his voice low, his eyes still searching hers. "Get some sleep, yeah."

Ahaana nodded, though the words felt heavy in her mouth. "Yeah."

Neither of them moved immediately. The tension was still there, still crackling, but now it was tempered by the uncertainty of what had just happened. Neither of them was sure where to go from here, but both of them knew that whatever had almost happened, it hadn’t been the end. It was just the beginning.

And neither of them was ready to walk away from that, not yet.

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ᝰ.ᐟ fourth part! hope you guys like it!

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tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf @sp1rl @charlesgirl16 @leila-030304 @uhcalli @blahblechblah @phobiccneel @blushmimi

comment to be added to taglist

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shares-a-vest · 10 months ago

Text

Just a Shirt (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.9k | Rated: T | cw: Mild descriptions of Steve's s4 injuries (mostly the scar on his neck), Hospital mention, Brief mention of nightmares

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Post s4 Fix-it (Everyone Lives), Hellfire, Fluff and Angst (Happy Ending), Love Confessions, Injury, Cuddling

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him. Based off this ficlet/headcanon. But the BIGGEST thank you goes to @tangerinesteve (formally babydollbaron) for their incredible tags below. They gave me the biggest and softest brainworms. I hope I did your wonderful ideas justice!

“Here-p,” Eddie mumbles, pushing a too-neatly folded shirt into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, thanks,” his boyfriend hums, quirking a brow in confusion.

Eddie shrugs the whole thing off for good measure because it’s just a shirt – that’s all it is.

... But not really.

Like, at all.

He looks away, avoiding Steve’s gaze. While their relationship isn’t too new for gifts, it might be too fresh for a t-shirt that screams, ‘You are part of me and I can see that you are in pain and I think I can fix it. Nay, I need to make you comfortable’.

Yeah… it’s perhaps a little too premature for something that says all that.

So Eddie looks at the floor, his beige sock blending into the similarly-coloured carpet that lines Steve’s bedroom. His foot really only looks like an actual foot and not a patch of carpet thanks to the hole in his sock that is currently exposing his pinky toe.

It’s just a shirt, he desperately reminds himself as he catches Steve unfurling it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s just a shirt.

A customised Hellfire shirt he made especially for Steve.

One that is two sizes too big, made of the softest cotton and led to an emptying of his wallet to obtain. A Hellfire shirt that has short sleeves and a loose, scooped neck Eddie fashioned himself after borrowing a sewing book from the library. A neckline he sewed on Mrs Pemberton’s machine after crossing the trailer park and answering a slew of questions from an all too inquisitive Max Mayfield.

It’s a Hellfire shirt in its logo only – despite what his friends might think. Or the fuss all his pea-brained lost little sheepie buddies kicked up along the way.

They have been a total nightmare these past few weeks, scheming and plotting and sabotaging like a little hoard of gremlins. But Eddie supposes he can really only blame himself.

He should have never said anything, never asked Gareth for the original master copy of the Hellfire logo he knows his best friend keeps filed away in secret on the rare occasions they let in new members. Or to get new t-shirts printed in instances of spilled beverage-based stain emergencies. But then Gareth of course squealed to Jeff, who teased Eddie mercilessly before blabbing to Freak, who, well… Freaked about the possibility of a jock joining Hellfire.

The shock. The horror! Oh, the humanity!

And then came what was nothing short of a campaign via Dustin, Mike and Will, all collectively working to not only prevent Eddie from something he wasn’t even going to do in the first place but to also create a drama so seismic that rumours got around the whole of Hawkins that one Eddie Munson would no longer be running his little ‘demonic’ social club.

Or at least that’s what Wayne said Ernie at the plant had told him that his son had said.

The only thing is, Eddie feels more than a little sorry for Lucas Sinclair, a kid now sulking around, utterly crestfallen that his favourite Laundry Basket Friend isn’t also secretly a full-blown nerd.

It’s just that Eddie wanted to give Steve a nice, soft, comfy shirt he had hoped he would look at just like he is right now.

Besides, Steve had admitted that he liked the Hellfire logo months back when they first started dating. Told Eddie it was, “So creative, man”, after expressing some mild disappointment that he hadn’t shown up for their first date wearing it.

He smiles at the memory, Steve’s eyes lighting up as soon as he hopped into the Beemer, far too eager to head off to Benny’s Diner that he hadn’t even bothered to let Steve chivalrously walk up to the front stoop of the new and improved Casa de Munson.

“Eddie…” Steve says, his voice just above a whisper and sounding just as soft as the too-important shirt in his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he snorts, “I’m not making you join or anything it’s just… You said you haven’t been sleeping well…”

He gestures with his hand, searching for the right words. Better words that won’t sound so monumental and weighted as Steve’s eyes trail right along the shirt’s scooped neckline.

The hem is probably a little flimsy, but hopefully, Steve won’t fucking claw at it like the old Tigers gym shirt he almost tore in two a few weeks back after bolting upright in a sweat after a nightmare. That is what did it – really set Eddie on his mission. Seeing Steve’s sniffles turn to tears and how he tried to hide them away, shrugging Eddie off before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

He had come back a few minutes later, eyes red as he hugged his arms across himself, appearing small and frightened but acting cold as ice.

“Yeah…” Steve nods before mouthing what appears to be the word, “soft”, as he balls the fabric between his fingers.

“Hell, I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Eddie continues to ramble, “Just… tossing and turning. Also your… Y’know…”

He gestures to his own neck, referring to the still-reddened scar around Steve’s. One that Eddie knows leaves his throat scratchy and hoarse at the slightest provocation. A mark that nosey townspeople gawk at when Steve is at work, leaving him all embarrassed and well, not like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington at all.

And Steve hadn’t even told Eddie about that part. Nope. He found out from Robin, who swung by the mechanic one afternoon, inconsolable about her best friend spending their shift at Family Video hidden away in Keith Anderson’s stinky loser palace of an office.

“Mhmm,” Steve nods, pursing his lips.

Eddie knows he isn’t mad – it’s just something his boyfriend doesn’t talk about. That he doesn’t like talking about.

He needn’t ramble anymore, really – fill the silence between them or attempt to explain himself because, in a flash, Steve slips off his tight-fitting navy polo and replaces it with his new Hellfire shirt.

And Eddie can’t help but beam at a job well done.

It hangs nicely. Loose enough to sleep in, but not billowing so much to swallow that physique entirely. The neckline sits just where he had hoped too, much lower than the regular Hellfire shirts, scooped below Steve’s collar bones so that even if it stretches in his sleep, it couldn’t possibly pull and tug at his scar.

It’s perfect.

Exactly what he wanted to give Steve, who looks down at the devilish, very metal logo – a sight that is sure to scare off his snooty parents for good if they ever see it.

Before he knows it, Steve lunges for him and Eddie feels his cheeks squish against his boyfriend’s hands as he is kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kisses that last for long enough and grow softer with every peck that Eddie soon feels his legs buckling and he forgets altogether what they are even doing up here, in Steve’s bedroom, in the middle of the day on a warm summer afternoon.

It’s just the he –

“ – I love you,” Steve smiles when he comes up for air and –

His eyes blow wide in an instant.

And Eddie is sure his own do too – maybe even pop right out of his goddamn skull with an audible gasp in there somewhere as well as they both fully realise what has just been said.

Steve loves him?

Just the same as he loves Steve. So much that he is blurting it out now, in the middle of his bedroom on a warm, mid-summer afternoon – perhaps months too early when they are probably, most likely still in the honeymoon phase.

All because of one perfect t-shirt.

Steve’s brow pinches together and his jaw goes slack as he looks away.

“I…” he trails off, drumming his fingers on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Stevie...” he tuts, smiling back at him.

He steps closer still, closing any remaining space between them as he loops his arms around his partner’s middle and squeezes him tight.

Eddie backs them a step back, then another. Then another until he is at a safe enough distance to rock Steve back and collapse onto the bed.

They fall with a conjoined, “Hmphf” – one that knocks the wind out of Eddie’s already breathless lungs and has Steve momentarily distracted away from whatever inner turmoil he had going on a moment ago. As he lands on top of his boyfriend, Eddie gets a feel of the shirt, now warmed by Steve’s permanently hot body temperature. A feeling that makes it seem even softer.

Like it is already worn in and loved.

He wants to ball a handful of it up in his fist and never let go.

But Eddie forces himself to sit upright, settling down in a straddled position to hover over Steve’s clothed form. He smiles down at the sight beneath him, his giddiness short-lived and quickly fading as a big, brown and now glistening set of panicked eyes return.

“Stevie,” he whispers, running his hand up Steve’s torso.

He ghosts his fingers with a featherlight touch over the printed logo, an illustration he had first scribbled on the back of his math book in his junior year.

Eddie leans forward and takes Steve’s hands, clasping them tight and one by one, he brings them to rest above his head where his super-soft signature swoop is sticking every which way, mussed by the bedspread.

He can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight – momentarily giving into the greedy feeling he gets when he thinks about how this Steve is the one he gets all to himself.

But Steve frowns, those expressive brows looking positively pained now as if only one thing could possibly soften them.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, freeing a hand to delicately pluck at Steve’s loosened neckline, “Obviously.”

“You do?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods as a visible relief washes through Steve’s eyes, leaving his brows to soften up so much he wonders if his boyfriend might now cry.

And before he can say or do anything more, Steve bolts upright, once again leaving Eddie feeling winded and more than a lot flushed this time as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck, snuffling close like the world’s cuddliest puppy.

They stay like this for a long while, simply breathing in sync as they hold each other. And soon Steve begins to sink, his body going lax as his head slips down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I really wanna sleep,” he hums as tears seep through Eddie’s own plain black t-shirt.

“You wanna try now?” Eddie offers, pulling back enough to give an encouraging little smile.

Steve nods, refusing to let him go as they lower down together as one, his eyes fluttering shut when his head meets the bedspread.

“Wanna get all cozy under the covers?” Eddie continues, nudging at the bedding.

He really doesn’t want to move too much more – not when Steve looks like this.

Relaxed.

Loved.

Comfortable and wrapped up in a softness Eddie would like to keep him cocooned in forever.

But as he always does, Steve moves for them and rolls to the side. He snuggles in close, burrowing his head between the crook of Eddie’s neck and the mattress all protected and safe. Eddie palms around for the blanket and haphazardly wraps what sliver of it is free around them, shielding his partner a little more for good measure.

It’s good like this.

Calm. Warm.

Soft.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #healing steddie #stranger things s4 #lily writes a fic #fluff and angst #cw injury #steddie fanfiction

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youreallyshouldtalkmore · 1 year ago

Text

Kiss from a Rose_Part 2

A.N: A three part series featuring Neuvillette x Reader!

Genshin Impact MasterList

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“This…is Monsieur Neuvillette? You are quite certain?”

Paimon was the first to break the silence. You, the Traveler, Paimon, Navia and the twins and Freminet were at the lake that lead down to the Melusine’s village. In lieu of all the drama that Fontaine was in with the missing ludex, the seven of you decided to meet here. Currently, the otter was sitting in the water with everyone was staring at him.

He calmly looked back, dipping his head once.

"Hold on! Did he understand me?" Paimon asked.

Lyney clapped his hands once, “Well, stranger things have happened!”

“I’m just glad to know that he is okay….” Freminet murmured.

“But how?” Navia questioned.

“That is unimportant.” You dismissed, “Right now, we need to figure out how to turn him back.”

“Unless, what turned him into an otter could turn him back.” Lynette offered.

“I thought about that.” You nodded, “Through trial and error, I did try to retrace Neuvillette’s steps, and it reached into the village. But then he started flipping out. Whatever, it was, he did not want anyone going into that area. So I had it quarantine off. Since he cannot speak, we do not know precisely what to look for. And if we try, we might end up in the same position.”

The otter splashed once as if in agreement with you.

“A wise decision.” Navia nodded, “But we will need to fix this before our entire country falls apart. The Steambird has now taken to publish conspiracy theories on his disappearance. Imagine what they would print if he showed up as an otter.”

You swore you heard Neuvillette sigh.

You rubbed your temple, “I don’t want to imagine.”

Navia continued, “Lady Furina is doing all she can to divert the public’s gaze. If nothing else, she is making herself a target for Charolette’s teeth.”

Paimon sighed, “That in and of itself deserves accolade.”

“But rest assured, we are ready to do whatever necessary to bring Monsieur Neuvillette back to normal.” Navia stated.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Monsieur Neuvillette, we will find a cure for you!!” Paimon cheered.

“....”

“So, any ideas?” Freminet inquired quietly.

—-

That had been three days ago, and no one seemed to be able to figure out any kind of plan. They tried all sorts of medicine and potions, but nothing seemed to work. By the fourth day, all of you were back at the lake for another meeting.

“This is getting worrisome now.” The Traveler murmured.

“I agree! Come on, guys, there has to be something.” Navia cried frustrated, “I can use my connections to get whatever it is, as long as I know what to get!”

A silence descended.

“Well…..” Lyney hummed.

You turned to the magician with wide, expectant eyes.

“....I do have an idea, but you may not like it.”

“As long as it turns Neuvillette back to human form! It’s fine! What is it?”

“It’s quite unconventional….”

“You're doing an awful lot of setup.” Paimon remarked.

“Perhaps, a kiss of true love can turn him back. In the stories, it usually turns a beast back into his princely form.” Lyney was dead serious as he looked at you without a hint of a smile.

You stared at him a good minute. Traveler and Paimon looked at each other as Navia gave a long-suffering sigh.

You finally turned Lynette and Freminet, “Can I hit him?”

“Sure. It will save me from having to come out of power saving mode myself.”

A dip of the head was all from Freminet.

You reached for Lyney fully intended to slap him upside the head, but he dodged nimbly as he spoke, “My lady, please I beg you a minute to explain!”

You have finally grabbed at his clothes, snatched his hat and began playing keep away with it.

“Not my hat! Lynette, Freminet, help me!! Traveler!!”

The Traveler discreetly looked away, as Paimon only folded her arms, unimpressed.

“You started this foolishness!” Lynette returned calmly.

“Look, we have no idea what turned him into an otter in the first place! It could be anything! Which means we need to think outside the box. Nothing conventional has worked so far! So whose to say that this isn’t some magical one off?”

You eyed the magician for a long moment.

“At this point, we need to try everything. Even I admit, it sounds like a setup from a storybook, but I just thought I’d put it out there. We aren’t going to give up. All of us will continue looking for a solution, but I’m just trying to present all options. Even the unconventional ones.”

You gave a sigh, “Well, I do appreciate it. I really couldn’t tell if you were trying for a joke at this time or not.”

“I’m a magician not a comedian, my lady! With tension being so high, I would never take advantage of it.”

You gave him back his hat, and he welcomed it back like an old friend.

“Well, I shall keep it in mind. In the meantime, what other practical solutions are there?” You asked the group.

—-

You gave a sigh as you entered the house and headed for the bathroom. You slipped off the backpack of water you had used to carry otter Neuvillette in. Unzipping the bag, you placed the sack on the ground. It had a net on top to let in air, so he wouldn’t suffocate. You pulled off the top before turning and filling up the tub.

Then you sat down with an apology, “I’m sorry. It seems it’s another day without a solution.”

The otter only shook its head.

“You're quite patient even during this ordeal. You never fail to amaze me, my dear.” You murmured, reaching out to plant a kiss on the head. Your lips lingered for a moment before you pulled back with a smile, “We’ll figure this out! Tomorrow is a new day!!”

Once the tub was filled and Neuvillette settled you, you eventually headed to bed.

Tomorrow was a new day, you reminded yourself.

You would see Neuvillette through this.

Part 3

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic #neuvillette x reader #neuvillete x reader #neuvillette

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im-not-corrupted · 1 year ago

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@samsalami66 very kindly gave me another prompt for a new Dreamling fic--Can I do your hair? from this list of prompts.

Features: human au, too much pining, Dream on the aromantic spectrum, childhood friends, developing friendship, and so many feelings!

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The sun is already low in the sky when he asks, evening setting in far too quickly for Dream’s liking.

The question comes as quite the surprise. Dream doesn’t quite know why, exactly—they have been steadily growing closer over the last few months, since they reunited after a good many years apart. It is a strange thing to go from close friends to nothing but tentative strangers after years apart. There is familiarity, of course—not everything changes. Some things remain the same.

Most things do not. Dream recalls the way he saw Hob after their numerous years apart. He did so with an entirely different light, though whether that perspective came with age or that distance, he doesn’t know. It was simply that he saw Hob grin at him—small and tentative, unsure despite the confidence he held himself with, a beautiful study in contrasts—for the first time in years, and it did something to him. Stirred something within him, something that remained stubbornly latent until that one moment.

It was something to do with his eyes, Dream thinks. Hob has lovely eyes. Russet brown with specks of gold. They are made for sunlight and seem to crystallise its rays in their irises, all brilliant colours that manage to take his breath away each and every time. They are gentle, hopeful things, those eyes, and made even more beautiful by the soft lines in their corners. Crows feet, barely noticeable but there. Those were not there when they were children, and serve now as proof that they both grew older, but also that Hob has spent these last years away from one another happy.

There is a jealousy to be found there, in the idea that he has been unable to contribute to this joy. He has found the act of bringing smiles onto Hob’s face almost addictive—they are blinding in their brilliance, precious gems Dream just knows he will treasure until the end of time. He wants to be the one to bring him further joy, and wishes he was there to do so during their years apart.

Yet Dream has duties to his family. He could not forsake them, not even for Hob. (He wishes to. They meet every fortnight since their reunion. Dream creeps out the palace, takes his mare from the stables and rides to their obscure meeting place, where Hob is always—always, without fail—waiting for him. The sight always makes his heart ache in his chest, and when they say goodbye…When they say goodbye, Dream wishes he could follow Hob. Wishes he could follow the steps of his childhood friend who he had become ridiculously attached to, a bond that is so terribly unwise he knows he should not continue to meet him yet finds himself unable to not do so. He wishes he could forsake every duty that has ever been placed upon his shoulders and see what life away from the palace might be like—what a life with Hob might be like.

He imagines it to be wondrous. Hob’s stories have always been so…so full of adventure, the tales he spins so full of drama and excitement and everything the palace is not. He wishes he could experience that, if only once.)

In the end, that faint amount of jealousy—the idea that he should be the one to inspire joy inside of Hob, the selfish thought that he has missed so much—it all faded away into gladness. He is happy that Hob has been happy in their time away. He is glad his friend gets to have that, and gets to have enough of it that it has made a permanent mark upon his face.

That, Dream thinks, is enough.

So they have grown closer, these last few months since their reunion. It started tentatively, with unsure steps, a little like walking on eggshells. For Dream, though much about Hob remains the same, the differences are large enough that, at first, he was terribly unsure of himself. There is Hob, with his new-found confidence, with arrogance that suits him instead of feeling obnoxious or annoying like half arrogant nobles back at the palace, with his new-found strength and tanned skin from years spent in the sun, with easy smiles that look so natural on his face. And then there is Dream, who is, for all intents and purposes, much the same. He still dresses in black, as he did when they were younger. He still finds court to be stifling, frustrating, a cage he has yet to escape and one he fears may crush him someday. He still argues with his parents, though admittedly far more politely than he used to, about duties and marriage and all the things that were predetermined for him the moment of his birth. He still wanders the halls of the palace a little like a ghost, stays quiet when he is expected to raise his voice, and is perpetually terrified that he is not enough. For his kingdom, for his family, for anybody he truly cares for.

When he thinks about them like that, it is clear that the two of them are so different. It seemed a foolish idea, that the two of them could be friends, that they could rekindle what they once had. Dream missed him dearly in their years apart, of course—Hob was one of the few things that made his life bearable, along with the books inside the Library and Jessamy. But in that first moment, the day of their reunion, he was sure that he was so much lesser than Hob. That Hob would see it and spit at his feet and simply leave.

That did not happen. For all his fears, all his uncertainty, things were just as easy that day of their reunion as they were the day Hob left. They learned what parts of them had changed, decided they still fit together, and they formed a friendship that now seemed stronger than the one they left behind when Hob had to leave.

It is a blessing, Dream thinks. He thanks the stars that Hob decided, however foolishly, that he is worth befriending. That he is worth knowing.

Still. Growing friendship or not, Dream was not expecting Hob to state at him for a couple of moments and ask, abruptly, “Can I do your hair?”

He blinks, taking a moment to register the question. He replied with a quiet, “…What?” because, truly, he is unsure he heard correctly.

Despite all his confidence, gained from years of befriending people with nothing but a smile, Hob sometimes manages to be so unconfident sometimes. This is one of those moments—his eyes widen fast enough to almost be comical, staring at Dream like he had made a grave mistake, before his face turns red. Distantly, Dream wonders at that, at the way it appears so becoming on him. It compliments the tan skin of his face and Dream wants to see more of it, though isn’t entirely sure where that impulse came from.

“Sorry,” Hob says sheepishly. “Only—your hair is so pretty. I had the sudden urge to braid it. I know that may be…weird? Just. Forget that I asked?”

”No,” he says, and, truly, he is unsure where the word came from. Only, he is not opposed in the slightest to the idea of Hob’s hands in his hair. They’re tough hands, scarred and callused from years of soldiering, yet they have only ever treated Dream with an unfamiliar tenderness he craves. The few touches they have shared are memorable solely due to this—to the carefulness with which Hob touches him. Not like he is a delicate, breakable thing, but instead like he is something worth treasuring. He did not think there was a difference between those two things until Hob Gadling pulled him in for a hug the day they reunited, one arm around Dream’s waist and the other cradling his head.

It is a moment that has changed him, he thinks. Because now that he has been offered more of those touches, more of that gentleness, he wants it. He is familiar with want. It is a great burning thing inside of his chest. He does not want with any kind of moderation, and he wants so much of it that the wanting has nowhere to go.

But it has a direction now. He thinks of Hob’s hands in his hair, of the loveliness with which Hob would no doubt do this with, and he wants. Which is why he looks at Hob, at the red blossoming across his cheeks, pretty like roses, and he offers softly, “You may. If you truly wish to.”

He watches as a smile full of relief and delight breaks over Hob’s face like the sun at dawn. It feels a little like a miracle to be able to see this, and even more like a blessing to know this is solely his. That, in the end, Hob smiles with such beauty in his direction, and now he is able to keep this close inside his memory and revisit it again and again. “Really?” he asks, and he tugs at his ear in a way that can only be nervous, and Dream thinks this is what it means to be in love. “I only want to if you’d be comfortable with it.”

He has read about it, in books. There are plenty in the library, and it seems to be one of the more common themes. Love. Romance. These are things he has never understood.

He does love, of course. He loves his dear older sister, Telute, who they all call Death. He loves his youngest sister Del. He loves Lucienne even if he is not strictly supposed to, for she treats him less like a prince and more like a person, and that is important. He loves Jessamy, who has taken care of him even when his parents have not.

But romantic love is another thing entirely. He feels a little as though he is incapable of it, and cannot quite understand why. It seems to come so easily to everybody else, after all. It seems to be such a universal experience—has to be that, if there are so many works about those feelings inside the library.

Here, in this moment, he thinks he understands. He wants, only he is not sure what exactly it is he is wanting. He aches with it, with the desire to see Hob’s smile again and again. It is different from friendship, he thinks. It is a little like a wildfire catching, burning bright and beautiful and yet so dangerous.

This thing is large enough to ruin him, he can tell. If he reaches forward and lets his fingertips brush those flames, he will burn.

He offers Hob a smile that feels a little like tempting Hell and figures he will be okay with burning if it means he gets to have more of this. More of these moments, lovely and warm and gentle. More of Hob’s smiles and more of his touches. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want you to,” he points out, and Hob laughs.

It is a loud, joyful thing. Dream wants. He wants to taste that sound for himself. Wants to swallow it and let it take root inside himself so that he has a piece of Hob with him. Wants to press his lips to Hob’s and see if he will be as kind to him then as he is every other time.

”Alright then, my friend,” Hob says, and he is beautiful when he is delighted. It becomes him. He had a face built for joy and a voice made for expressing it. Dream wants as many of these moments as possible. “Sit in front of me?”

Hob crosses his legs where he sits in the meadow, amongst wildflowers that bathe the area in a sweet scent that reminds Dream of all things summer. Of sunlight on his skin, its warmth seeping in through his blood and settling inside his bones. It is heady, and it reminds him also of the early days of his and Hob’s friendship—the times when Hob would convince him to take his horse down to the beach so that they might be able to jump in the sea, the times when Hob would drag him to the market in town and teach him the art of pickpocketing. Each time felt a little like courting danger, for he knew his parents would disapprove of both of those endeavours, but they all felt golden, the days so full with possibility that any bad ending would surely be worth it.

(There were no bad endings, not even when they jumped into the sea. Jessamy found him before his parents ever could and tutted softly at the sight of his sodden clothes, no doubt ruined by sea water, and bid him clean up before anybody else found out. There were no bad endings because Jessamy protected him from them, and Dream is eternally grateful to her.)

And, after a moment’s hesitation, Dream sits between his friend’s crossed legs with an insistent feeling of anticipation. He faces forward, turned towards the gradually setting sun. It is beautiful up here, on top of this hill in the middle of a meadow.

He brings his legs up to his chest, wraps an arm around them. With his other, he picks at the grass beneath them, the green so beautiful and vibrant and lovely. It is a nervous thing, this action, and he feels distantly foolish for it. He is not supposed to appear nervous—he is a prince, after all.

Yet Hob makes him feel like this. Like anything is possible. Makes him nervous, despite all the effort Dream has put into learning how to mask these things.

He does not mind. Hob is…Hob is safe. He knows this.

He does not gasp when he feels Hob’s fingers in his hair, but it is a close thing. The touch is so light, so soft that Dream could melt into it. He does not think it would be entirely appropriate to lose himself like so if he does, but he is tempted. For now, he keeps his eyes on the sun and tells his heartbeat to calm down. It is only Hob.

Except it has never been only Hob, has it? This is Hob he is talking about, after all. He is beautiful and lovely and Dream loves him so much. Perhaps a little more than platonically.

”Is that alright?” Hob asks him. He is…close. Which makes sense, considering their proximity, but being confronted with this so suddenly is almost startling.

It takes him more time than he would like to admit to find his voice. When he does, his voice is small and breathy, and he does not have it in him to feel embarrassed. “Yes.”

Hob hums softly under his breath, and then he starts to braid.

He starts from the top of Dream’s head, so it is certainly no ordinary three-strand braid. He sections the hair carefully, mindful not to tug, and braids with an efficiency that feels practised. Dream did not think this would come out of keeping his hair relatively long out of little more than pure spite and a vague like for the style, but does not mind it at all.

“I used to have a sister, you know,” Hob tells him with an air of wistfulness, like he looks into the past and wishes he could go back as he says it. “She used to demand I braid her hair constantly, so I was forced to learn. Admittedly, I rather enjoyed it. Your hair is perfect for it, too.”

He doesn’t preen at the compliment. He doesn’t. “Used to?” he asks softly, then winces slightly. The use of past tense says enough, does it not? There is no need to drag up old ghosts, and yet, he has done so. Accidentally, and without thinking, but he has. “I apologise. You do not need—“

”Hey.” It is so soft that it stops him in his tracks. “Don’t be. You didn’t know. She died a couple years ago. I miss her very much. You would’ve liked her, I think. I am glad you let me do this. Feels like I’m…remembering her by doing so, if that makes sense.”

Dream thinks it does, and says as much. Hob hugs once more, and the two of them fall silent for a while. There is little more between them than slight rustling of movement from behind him as Hob readjusts himself to continue the braid. More than once, he pauses for a reason Dream is unable to determine.

It is comfortable. Quiet. Dream thinks he would like to do this time and time again, if Hob is amenable.

Eventually, Hob tells him, “It is done,” and Dream immediately regrets having not brought a handheld mirror with him. It feels a crime that he is unable to see Hob’s work with his own eyes.

There is nothing for it. But he reaches behind himself and it feels so neat, so tidy, he knows Hob has done well. Then he runs his fingers over feather-soft petals and asks, “Flowers, too?”

”Yeah. There’s plenty about. They suit you.”

Dream turns to face him once more, and Hob stares at him with an expression he cannot quite read. He wishes he could. He wishes he knew what this is, this growing thing between them. He wishes himself capable of putting it into words.

It is enough, he supposes, to leave this thing between them to its own devices. Perhaps it will make sense, make itself known and understood, at some other point in time. For now, Dream lets himself imagine pressing his lips to Hob’s cheek in the gentlest of kisses, let’s himself wonder if Hob might hold him close with the same gentleness he does everything else, and he decides it does not have to be anything more than what they were already, not necessarily.

”Thank you,” he murmurs softly, and Hob smiles. It is a small, delighted thing. Dream adores the sight of it.

”Anytime, my friend. Anytime.” He settles back a little, resting his back against the grand oak tree they mark their meeting spot by, and says, “Come on. Tell me a story. You’re good at those.”

”I am,” Dream agrees. And Hob asked this of him, so he does. He tells him a story, and eventually, the two of them part ways.

He does not take his hair out until long into the night, where he takes the flowers out carefully and keeps them on his nightstand. They will wither soon, he knows, but for now he keeps them as—as a token of Hob’s friendship, he supposes.

When he sleeps, he dreams of his friend, beautiful and joyful and oh so lovely.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #morpheus dream of the endless #the sandman fic #eris writes things

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dirtbra1n · 2 months ago

Text

Seigi Sunday the second—please don’t look at what day it is

(BELATEDLY LINKING THE FIRST ONE READ MY POSTS BOY)

okay so it’s Seigi saturday last-Sunday monday tuesday wednesday thursday I even slept in today can we be nice to me,

discontinuing that bit. Seriously just don't look at what day it is. it was technically a sunday when I finished it. My request for today is to acquire a phoenixheadinhands image and have it on hand as we move forward. 30 image cap beat my ass There were intense budget cuts.

but anyway white text this time :) where we start:

PESSIMIST!!! 🫵🫵🫵

a comment from jeweler richard enthusiast kiri @aranarumei and more seigi under the cut

The shop's owner was one Mr. Richard Ranasinghe de Vulpian, a man so elegant he looked like he could have stepped right out of a BBC historical drama, with an impeccable command of the Japanese language. And I had no clue what he was thinking. As much as I figured it wouldn't be long before he looked at the books and decided to close up shop, I diligently did my job cleaning the place and boiling milk with tea in it. And honestly, it didn't really matter what was going on with the shop. I had to work to get paid. I was still working twice a week at the TV station, too. But in two weeks' time, my pessimistic predictions were proved very wrong.

look he also realized what a pessimist he is. this won't come back to shoot me again ever. thats a promise. I would never lie to you about this.

Now, I knew I was just a part-timer who hadn't seen the store's books or knew what the rent was, so this was just a hunch—but I really didn't think this weekend jewelry café in Ginza was Richard's main job. I was sure he had customers like Ms. Miyashita in Kobe all over Japan, if not the entire world. He probably spent the week going from house to house showing off gems and selling them. With the profit from those sales, it wouldn't really matter if this shop was here or not.

It would be a long way off before we were on comfortable enough terms for me to ask him how the business was doing. "So, what's the deal with carats? I was really shocked when I learned about it last week. It's a just a unit for measuring weight. One carat is 0.2 grams." "Indeed, it is. And what exactly is it that troubles you about this fact?" "I guess I don't get why you need another unit. Couldn't you use grams?" "...It'll make more sense to you later." Richard's attitude seemed to suggest that if I wasn't actually interested in it, there was no reason to force myself to learn about gemstones. But he would still answer my questions, and he got mad at me when I told him I'd been keeping the pink sapphire ring in my fridge because the box might get moldy, and gave me a new box and cloth for it. He must really love gemstones. [...]

[if theres space for it, :phoenixheadinhands: if not, leave this in. Who give a shit] [:phoenixheadinhands:]

It was a woman with long black hair, fair skin, and narrow eyes. She was beautiful, in her late twenties, wearing a pencil skirt and a white blouse. She must've come straight from work. She made me feel a little nervous. "Um, this is a jeweler's. The rental office is on the first floor." "...Yes, there is a sign out front. Or, what, do you only accept customers by appointment?" "Welcome. You've made no mistake. We would be happy to accept your business." She seemed momentarily overwhelmed by hearing a blond-haired, blue-eyed man speak such fluent Japanese but quickly regained her composure. Typically, women reacted in one of two ways when they met Richard for the first time. They either got this indiscreet smile on their faces, like they were about to dig into a delicious meal, or they got very quiet in an attempt to hide their embarrassment. This woman didn't fit into either category. She seemed utterly unmoved by him. Or rather, she seemed utterly devoid of any emotion at all. Like an empty husk of a human being. She seemed pretty thin, and on closer inspection, I could tell that the shoulders of her shirt didn't fit quite right. Her voice was steady but her gait wasn't. I had to wonder if she was okay. At any rate, I showed her to the seating area and started making tea. I added extra sugar in hopes of making her feel a bit better. The tea snack of the day was leaf-shaped pies that I'd picked up in the basement of department store.

SEIGI.............. big heart aside What I'm choosing to take from this is that women are wolves. watch out richard. awoooo

Heat treatment. I'd never heard of it before. Richard pulled out documents for the identification report process, explaining the costs and time involved. Ms. Akashi immediately filled out the required forms and then got up. "All right, it's in your hands now. I work during the day, so I'd appreciate it if you only contacted me after 6 p.m. I'm sorry, but I'm pressed for time, so I'll be going now. Thanks." Before I could even offer her some tea, Ms. Akashi had already left. I'd studied on how to handle a situation where a customer tried to run off with a product they hadn't paid for, but this was basically the opposite. She left something and ran off. "...Is this a new kind of scam or something? Like she'll come back and insist that we stole from her and have some scary people beat us up?"

seigi don't be cute. why's this cute. Shut up. you would literally be fine in a fight don't be CUTE. all this coming from the guy who replied But we're not total strangers and posited What if I were a swindler like Seigi can we be serious. you of all people can not talk on this

I took a closer look at the item she left behind. It was a brooch arranged around a central, pure red, oblong ruby. The metal was a polished silver. When I counted, I found there were twelve diamond-encrusted ribbons emanating from the central red stone. There were at least ten small diamonds on each ribbon. The design was elegant. "I know I'm a total amateur when it comes to this stuff, but... this is a really high-quality piece, isn't it?" "Indeed it is." It was hard to believe. Was this really the kind of thing someone would just casually drop off their first time in the shop? What would she do if she came back and it was gone? "She should take better care of it." "I don't think leaving gems in the refrigerator is a particularly good idea, either. But for better or worse, gems reflect the feelings of their owners. So perhaps it's no wonder that those sentiments come out in how they're handled." I ignored his little jab at me and drank the milk tea the customer hadn't even touched.

have I told you two already that you can't have normal fucking conversations. You are not normal

"Richard, I think this is the first time I've ever seen a ruby in person." He said he didn't mind, so I didn't hesitate to gaze at the brooch. The thing that really caught my eye was the red stone in the middle. It was probably more than twice the size of my pink sapphire. It had been about a month since I started working at Étranger—though I'd only actually worked five days so far—but in that time, numerous gems, the names of which I'd never even heard of before, had crossed my eyes. But a ruby had thus far never appeared in the box of treasures. "It really is red... Like when you find a spot of blood in raw chicken." "Was that some sort of joke? Or do you actually understand what you're saying?" "Huh? I'm not sure I follow." "Pigeon blood," Richard enunciated every last syllable. I still didn't follow. "It's a term used to describe the finest of rubies. Just as exquisitely blue sapphires are called 'cornflower blue," the vivid red of the most highly prized rubies is compared to the blood of pigeons. For you to come up with that analogy completely unawares, well, bravo."

richard is impressed because he would not have come up with the analogy himself, and he would not have come up with the analogy himself because . He really really really can't fucking cook. first bravo though :)

Bravo? That's a good thing, right? My mother, Hiromi, didn't have much time to cook, and my grandmother didn't exactly have the most sophisticated palate, so as far as I ever knew, cooking was just a survival skill. But sometimes it was more than that. Like when I'd remove the tendons from chicken thighs to make fried chicken. The real trick was to fry them at a high temperature. Which reminded me— "What's this heat treatment thing you were talking about earlier? Why would you heat up a stone?" "In the case of rubies and sapphires, heating them makes their color more vivid." "Wow! So it must be a chemical reaction, huh? Do you think the first person who thought of trying it was scared? Seems like a pretty big gamble, right? Or do the gems not get burned if you mess up?" "The process is conducted under extremely high temperatures. So if the stone can't handle the heat, it's less that you'll end up with a scorched stone and more that you'd end up with nothing at all."

"It depends on the artisan and the specific stone being worked on, but it's typically around a thousand degrees for anywhere from a few tens of seconds to several minutes. Of course, this isn't the sort of thing that can just be repeated indefinitely. Whether a piece of corundum has been heat treated or not has a significant effect on its value. Padparadscha, like in that ring of yours, is typically a name given to natural—that is, untreated—pink sapphires." "Corundum? Natural pink? Wait, I'm confused." A storm of question marks filled my head. Richard sighed and pulled out Gemstones: An Illustrated Guide. He opened it to the page on rubies. The opposite page was about sapphires. "Let's start from the basics. Do you know the difference between rubies and sapphires?" "...One's red and the other's blue?" "Indeed. That is essentially the only difference." "What?" "You could think of these two stones like siblings. Corundum is the general name for the mineral. Red corundum is called ruby, and all other colors of corundum are called sapphire." So it really was just a difference in color. But then why did they need different names? Why was pink sapphire, "sapphire" and not pink ruby?

categorically refuse to drag you all into my pit trap without making you understand that you will learn things. Please come learn things with me

actually looking back on it now given seigi's usual fare Beauty reigned supreme is subtle for real. good job seigi. You're winning

Richard slid his finger over two squares to the right, pointing to a picture of a stone that was more purple than red and not particularly clear. "If it were between this ruby, ruby A, which has not undergone heat treatment, and ruby B, a stone of a much higher grade that has, which do you think would be considered more valuable?" "Uh... Hm..." Which one would it be? The natural stone? No, it couldn't be that easy. "I think someone would prefer to wear the redder one, and a layperson wouldn't know anything about heat treatment, so I guess ruby B, the higher-grade stone that's been heat treated." "Correct again." "Ooh!"

I was going to put phoenixheadinhands here for seigi's Ooh! because I think hes cute but I need to save image slots for later and also I think you might think phoenixheadinhands is overreaction to seigi Ooh! and you're probably right. chronicling it anyway because I Like To Be Level With You .

"...What do you think her angle is? Maybe it was a gift?" "I'm generalizing here, but people typically want to know the value of something when numbers are important than feelings." Meaning when people wanted to let go of something and turn it into cash. But would someone just looking for quick cash really go out of their way to visit a jewelry shop in Ginza? Judging from her behavior when she was in here, she didn't seem very concerned about money. The more I thought about it, the more mysterious it became. Richard snapped the lid of the jewelry box shut. The very standard black box still looked brand new. "So this is your first ruby, huh? You should consider yourself lucky. You're one of the few people to ever lay eyes on a ruby of such high quality."*

*look I'm not gonna say anything. Also not going to say anything about the everythingelse Look this is a big fucking gun. it's a really big gun. just walk with me.

Richard ended the conversation by declaring it would be a fruitless endeavor. I actually liked how uncompromising he could be. Maybe he was so resolute in his opinions because he worked in an industry that involved dealing with people from all over the world, who might not share the same ideas of what constituted "common sense." It was such a simple, yet valiant attitude. He was so unreasonable that he wouldn't drink anything but water out of a plastic bottle, and he was very particular about cleaning, but he was a good guy at heart. Well, I was pretty sure he was, at least. No other customers came by after that. After we closed up shop at five and I said goodbye to Richard, I wandered around Ginza on my way home. If I were being honest, I'd never really thought much about my criteria for selecting a romantic partner. There were just two callous options: You either have a girlfriend, or you don't. And I'd never had one. Though, truthfully, I was always so busy I never really felt all that desperate to start dating. But as of this moment, I already knew where my happiness lay.

thinking about volume two gripping my head and groaning in agony. Moving on.

As a student enrolled in the economics department of Kasaba University, I couldn't help being excited for Mondays. I had my compulsory English class on Monday. The professor was brutal, especially when it came to attendance, and to make matters worse, it was in building 15—the one without an elevator. The class was harsh enough that you might even be forced to retake an exam if you didn't score high enough.

Shouko Tanimoto. She was the same age as me and a second year in the education department: a delicate, raven-haired angel with soft curls styled into a bob. I was pretty sure her favorite color was white, since I frequently saw her wearing skirts and blouses in that color. I thought it looked very good on her.

TANIMOTO-SAAAANNNNNNNNNN hi pretty girl :)

We'd first met last month, after an information session about the different departments at the university. The crosswalk across the main street near campus was always incredibly crowded during breaks—I was pretty sure only Shibuya and Shinjuku station had crosswalks to rival it. At any rate, I was at the crosswalk when I saw a little old man walking toward me. He looked unsteady on his feet, like he could fall at any moment. That was when a short girl who'd been walking in front of me turned as she passed him, offered him her arm and asked if he was all right. She supported him as he walked, even though her bag was heavy with textbooks and she was heading in the opposite direction. I'd initially meant to just pretend I hadn't seen anything and keep walking, but I slipped over to the other side of the road, grabbed the old man by the arm, and threatened him. "Sir, I don't know how many times I've seen you cross this road today, but it's been more than a few. And you're always clinging to a different girl." The old man let out a little squeak and took off so fast in the opposite direction that it was hard to imagine he was the same person. The area was too crowded to go after him. After I'd crossed to the side I was originally headed for, I regretted what I'd done. If I hadn't said anything, the girl would have been none the wiser and wouldn't have to feel gross about the whole incident. I bowed my head and apologized, and her eyes went wide. "Why are you apologizing? You helped me. I should be thanking you." Her carefree smile made me worry, so I ended up sticking my nose in somebody else's business again. "Even if people look like they're in need of help, there are good ones and bad ones out there.* So you should be more careful." She tilted her head as she walked and smiled again. It was strange. Every time she smiled, I felt like the world got a little brighter. "You're not wrong. But I can't tell a bad person apart from someone who really does need help just by looking at them, so I'd rather help regardless. I wonder if there's a better way to go about it..." The moment she got this bashful look on her face was the moment I fell for her. It even made my own encounter with that old man on the way to class, when I'd offered to walk him to his destination and he scrambled for an excuse and ran off, seem like a sign from the universe or something. I got her name and what department she was in, and the moment I found out we had one class in common, I knew it was fate. She came in first thing in the morning, and I wanted to talk to her, so I came in early on Mondays. Tanimoto spoke slowly. There was always this gentle air about her, and only her. Her friends would tease her, calling her an airhead, but that didn’t seem to bother her at all. If Richard was a crystal clear gemstone slumbering at the bottom of a lake, Tanimoto was a powdered sugar fairy living in the ceiling of a bakery. I felt I could smell the sweets just sitting next to her. From what I could hear from the other girls, it didn't sound like she was dating anyone, either. I wanted to date her so badly. If only I could. I desperately wanted to ask her out. I wanted to walk down the street with her, holding hands. I wanted to go places with her—to the beach or the mountains, anywhere. I couldn't shake the feeling that if I brought it up out of the blue, she'd shut me down in two seconds flat. For as hot as the fire of love was burning in my heart, I had no way to put it out either.

*belatedly realized this is anotherfucking gun Anywa

"Seigi, what's that?" "Huh?" She was pointing at the reference book on minerals I had sitting next to my textbook. I'd borrowed it from the university's main library on my way in, but it was all chemical formulas and stuff—a futile effort for a liberal arts student like myself.

he's just like meee.....

"Seigi, do you like rocks?" "Huh?" Tanimoto flashed me a smile in my confusion. The way she was looking at me made it seem like she was hoping for something. Maybe, just maybe... ...Tanimoto likes gemstones? "I'm researching heat treatment right now!" I began to babble. Tanimoto's chunky bangs swayed softly as she tilted her head to listen. She squinted at me, like someone wearing glasses that weren't the right prescription. Maybe I was being too forward. Maybe I'd made the wrong call. Why the hell did I bring up heat treatment, of all things? Is that really what you talk to a girl about when you're all alone together in a classroom? I screwed up. This is it. I've messed it all up. While I was panicking, Tanimoto turned her head again and said, "Heat treatment for what kind of stone? Or are you just researching it in general?" "Huh?"

seigi how many Huh?s is that now. thats three Huh?s seigi. in so many sentences. lets regroup. do it for your angel tanimoto-san.

"Heat treatment is pretty typical in the world of gemstones. Beryl, quartz, and corundum are the obvious ones, but there are plenty of other stones that change their properties when they're heated." I was so surprised I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room for a few seconds. Then, I was overcome with intense joy. It was like finally seeing the light break at the other end if a very long tunnel. That was the level of emotion I was at. I'd gotten through to her. The bits and pieces of things I'd picked up at my part-time job since this spring helped me get through to her. I wished for just that day—that moment—that I could be Richard. Face included.

you didn't need to bring him up... seigi....

"Yeah, I was looking into the heat treatment of rubies!" "So corundum, then. That's the scientific name for ruby and sapphire." "Right, I've heard that before! I stumbled on the term 'pigeon blood' recently, too." "...Seigi, you know that term means something very special." Tanimoto said with an impenetrable expression and smile on her face, turning into a completely different person than the one I'd known. "Pigeon blood rubies are extremely valuable. They're only found in a particular mine in Myanmar. Rubies are found elsewhere, like Thailand, Sri Lanka, and other parts of Asia, as well as Mozambique in Africa, but the highest quality rubies have always come from Myanmar." She continued, saying that due to geopolitical and supply instability, the prices of the highest quality specimens had skyrocketed. With a smile, she added that even the most beautiful of lights still cast shadows. Her tone wasn't one of half-hearted small talk—it was the tone of someone with strong opinions. So was her expression. "Did you know that rubies and sapphires are technically the same mineral, Seigi?" "I-I did, but... I still don't understand why they're different colors." "To put it simply, they have different impurities in the stone. Corundum is a kind of aluminum oxide, but if a stone has trace amounts of chromium in it, it'll be red, while iron and titanium will produce blue and purple stones. Which means there are techniques for manipulating color, too." "Wow...!" The more she talked, the faster she spoke. Her expression was stern and her voice low—there was a vague atmosphere of solemn dignity about her. She hunched over, crossed her legs, and tensed her eyes so much that it almost looked like someone had drawn a straight line in permanent marker under each of them. This was no bakery fairy standing in front of me but something else. Something more— "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Before I could put my finger on just what she reminded me of, Tanimoto stomped on the brakes. I was so startled I actually gasped. She giggled bashfully, and her face momentarily returned to her usual fairy-like state, though traces of the stern wrinkles about her eyes remained. "I, uh, just really love stones is all. Once I get going, I just can't stop. I'm really sorry."

difficult and even a bit of a narcissist Seigi hes gonna get you back for this. he will get you back. also tanimoto-san I Love You

every time seigi says something lame and econ major-like I cheer

"Good point. My boss said the same thing." "Hmm." Tanimoto let out a listless sigh, and her eyelid twitched. "...Seigi, lemme ask you something. Do you think of gemstones as assets? Or accessories?" "I think they're a little of both, but they can be more than that, too." "Why?" Why? Because I wouldn't consider my grandmother's ring an "asset" or an "accessory." But how was I supposed to explain that? I'm just a part-timer who doesn't know the first thing about gemstones. Tanimoto giggled as I got flustered. She was so cute. So damn cute. "Sorry, I guess I kinda brought the conversation to a weird place. But stones really aren't that complicated. I mean, you're not gonna die without precious gems after all, and I can't think of anyone who really hates them, you know? I think stones have a kinda, like inherit goodness to them." "Yes! Exactly! I think so, too. They might be accessories, or useful ways to bank value, but they're so much more than that... I think they have the power to connect people. And I think that's what I like about them... yeah." I didn't think my explanation was elegant enough to justify even an extremely generous comparison to Richard, but I'd said what I wanted to say. I figured as long as I got the idea across, that was good enough. While I was thinking, Tanimoto tensed her eyes up again and leaned forward—the "other" her was back. "Now I don't want you to think of this as the opinion of an amateur geologist but just as a personal, touchy-feely opinion." "Sure..." After repeating her lengthy preamble again, Tanimoto began, "Stones that are considered 'good' as assets or accessories are usually especially beautiful or rare ones. Like pigeon blood rubies. And that's why we developed the technology to find and reproduce stones of the highest standard of beauty. But there's something kind of cold and sad about chasing beauty defined only by numbers and standards." "You think it's sad?"

"Why? I wanna hear more! I wanna learn more about stones, but I have no idea where to even start. Honestly, I'm so happy right now that I don’t even know how to say it." "...You mean it?" I told her "thank you," and she flashed me a divinely sweet smile. Then she told me that she was the president of her high school geology club, and for some reason they'd given her the nickname "Golgo Tanimoto." I spent class with my head in the clouds, but afterward, we exchanged numbers. I finally, finally did it. And the cherry on top was that she invited me to join her for lunch. Campus was like an alternate dimension when we walked together. I was almost too happy. I had a hard time believing it was real. I felt like someone might throw water in my face at any moment to wake me up and tell me it was all a dream. Unfortunately, reality really did come knocking. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Seigi Nakata?" A man I'd never seen before stopped me just as we stepped out of the gate. He must've been about thirty. He had bright, childlike eyes* and wore an expensive suit. His clothes seemed suited to a more mundane job than Richard's. And, of course, I'd never met him before.

*for the sake of image count it’s not here but I annotated this ?? okay

"I am, but who are you?" "I'm sorry for dropping in on you like this, but I only need a moment of your time. It won't take long." "How did you know my name?" "I can explain, but let's go somewhere a little more private. If you don't mind." "Um, Seigi, maybe I should bow out here." "It's about the jewelry shop in Ginza. If you don't mind." The man didn't seem to pay any attention to how upset I looked. Clearly this guy didn't know what the phrase "If you don't mind," meant. Maybe Richard should give him a Japanese lesson. Painful as it was, I watched Tanimoto leave and followed the man into a local coffee shop. He ordered two coffees. Why am I here with a strange man and not Tanimoto? "...So, what do you want from me? Who are you?" "My name is Takashi Homura. I'm sorry for approaching you out of the blue like that." He handed me the second business card I'd ever received in my life. The first was, of course, Richard's. The company listed on the card was Homura Trading and the address was in Marunouchi—a business district with rents to rival Ginza's. I didn't ask, but he told me that he worked for his family business. Apparently, he was training to become assistant manager. I couldn't have cared less. He pulled a file from his leather bag and showed me a photo. It was a picture of him and a woman with long black hair. They stood in front of a fountain surrounded by tulips, awkwardly linking arms. The woman's face was familiar. She was Ms. Akashi, the woman who brought the ruby in for appraisal. "She's my fiancée. She came by the shop you work at part-time, right?" "...How do you know where I work?" "It's a long story, but I had someone investigate her recent activities. I'm sorry for scaring you." "You had 'someone' investigate her? You mean a private investigator, right? If one of my friends was dating someone like you, I'd tell her to break up with you because she could find someone better." "I can explain. You don't have to stay long, but please hear me out." He bowed deeply and began to explain. He'd met Ms. Akashi almost exactly a year ago. He fell in love with her when she started working for Homura Trading last spring, they got to know each other and eventually became engaged. The parents were on board, and they were on the verge of getting married. "But it's just not working out. She said yes, but she's been dragging her feet, and we're not getting anywhere on making arrangements. I was so excited for the ceremony, and we decided to hold it in August of this year, but there's no way it's happening at this rate. I think it's been going on way too long for it to just be anxiety about the wedding. It's driving my mother crazy... I told her she could just talk to me about it if there was some reason for all this, but she won't tell me anything. I didn't know what else to do." "Why are you coming to me about this? Your behavior is bizarre." "I'm not doing it anymore, but I had her followed for a month." "More like stalked." "During that month, the one thing she did that was different from her usual routine was visit the jewelry shop you work at." "So you decided to follow me to school?" "I'm so sorry. I'll get right to the point. If you have any idea why she was there, could you please tell me, if you don't mind? I just need some kind of clue, however small."

This was probably going to be my lunch. I really should have ordered some pasta so I wouldn't be distracted during my afternoon classes, but I didn't want to eat in front of this guy. He was so stressed I couldn't help feeling bad for him.

‘instantly’ is so funny to me seigi we were celebrating Top 20 #BITCH Moments hit after hit after hit after you were dragged away from tanimoto but NOW you ‘instantly’ feel bad. bleeding heart. bleeding heart who is also a bitch. silly guy Don’t kid yourself. also what’s the count on seigi mentioning richard apropos of anywhere from very little to literally nothing. it’s a lot right

"I don't expect you to understand. I know full well how selfish I'm being, but this was the only lead I had." "...Do you have any idea what your fiancée might have been doing in a jewelry shop?" "Last winter, I gave her a ruby. A brooch with diamond accents. She really liked it... or at least I thought she did when I gave it to her. Maybe I was wrong, though..." He trailed off. I thought so. She hadn't bought that brooch for herself. That's why she wanted to know if the stone had been heat treated and why she didn't know what it had cost. Maybe she really did intend to sell it. "Please. Not knowing is the worst thing in the world. I can't bear the thought of losing her." "Look, I'm sure Ms. Akashi has her reasons. Why can't you just accept that?" "Ms. Akashi?" Huh? The two of us referenced the photo again, and I pointed at Ms. Akashi. She did look a little less gaunt than she was when I saw her at Richard's shop, but her smile was identical—kind of stiff. "Isn't her name Mami Akashi?" "No, it's Mami Sasu." "Sasu?" The two of us exchanged confused looks. He definitely didn't look like he was lying, and he didn't have any reason to lie either. Which meant she'd used a fake name. "I wonder where she got the name 'Akashi' from. There's no one at the company with that name." "Maybe it's a relative's name?" "No, no one related to her is named that, either. Or... at least no one she introduced me to." Suddenly, he looked like an elementary schooler who'd been given the homework for someone in junior high. Funny, considering I thought he was a deplorable villain just moments ago. I thought back to Ms. Akashi storming in and out of the jewelry store. “...Sorry, I have to go. I've got class." I bowed and got up. I knew I couldn't stay there any longer. I'd probably already said something I shouldn't have. I hate this. I really hate it. I'd never shop at a place with an employee who'd sell out customers. I heard Mr. Homura say "thank you" as I left. If I were him, I wouldn't wanna thank the person secretly reporting on a person I loved. I didn't even know who the bad guy was in this situation: the man who hired a private detective to follow his girlfriend around, the woman who used a fake name to get a gemstone she was given as a gift appraised in secret, or the part-timer with loose lips? I left the coffee shop and noticed I'd gotten a text from Tanimoto. It was short, "Everything go okay? We should talk again sometime!" I was so, so happy. Too happy. I realized that if we did start dating and she started acting weird, I could see myself hiring a private investigator, too. I guessed the more you liked someone, the more it could go to your head. After I finished my afternoon classes, I made up my mind: The next time Ms. Akashi aka Ms. Sasu came to the shop, the first thing I would do was tell her what happened today and apologize. She would probably be mad, and I was sure Richard would fire me, but it was the right thing to do.

I’d never shop at a place with an employee who’d sell out customers This is a massive massive gun to me. just horribly massive gun. give it like uhhh six or seven novels? don’t remember Just trust me. anyway refer to phoenixheadinhands Anyway anyway this one was marked in place by richard-gets-slammed.png

"Hold on, Seigi." My eyes went wide at Richard's response, and the person in the leather jacket glared at me. They had on skinny jeans and combat boots. I went back down the stairs, taking a ready stance on the white cobblestone. As the assailant slowly made their way down the stairs onto the sunlight walkway, I realized why I thought my ears were playing tricks on me when they spoke—the attacker was a woman. She was much smaller than Richard, too. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. It was blonde fading to purple at the ends. She wore bright red lipstick and had sharp eyes. “‘This your shop? Which one of you is the dirty, woman-stealing bastard?” She must've been in her twenties, and she really looked like she belonged more in Harajuku than Ginza. Why on earth was someone like that attacking Richard? Richard fixed his shirt and came downstairs. The suitcase he was never seen without was fine. It didn't seem like the assailant had been trying to steal the gems. “...Lover's quarrel?” "Don't be foolish, I've never met this woman before."

You two are sick.

Apparently, she'd come at him just as he was about to enter the shop. Bizarre. The strange woman glared at me beneath the dull shine of the overcast sky. "You wanna go? This is gonna be fun. Come at me. Underestimate me and you'll regret it." "I'm opposed to using violence against women. Please state your business.["]

💥💥💥

- another gun

["]Who is this 'woman-stealing bastard' you're so concerned about? And just who are you?" "Tatsuki Akashi. Twenty-seven years old. I'm a bassist working as a studio musician in Shibuya." Akashi? This Tatsuki Akashi opened her wallet and took out a photo to show us. It was a picture of two women, having fun in what looked like a bar. "Do you know this woman? Tell me everything you know, I don't care how minor. I've got a situation I'm dealing with." The photo was of Tatsuki Akashi, wearing a Japanese national football team uniform, with a big smile on her face and an arm around none other than Mami Sasu. Just as I was getting over the shock of that revelation, I heard someone drop something on the path behind me. It was a brown shoulder bag. And a long-haired woman was standing there. Mami Sasu. Tatsuki reacted first. Mami tried to run, but Tatsuki chased after her and grabbed her hand. "Mami! I finally found you!" "Let go of me! I don't want anything to do with you anymore!" "Do you have any idea how worried I was?! How dare you just up and disappear like that!" The two women began to grapple in the middle of the street. This was not good. Not good at all—but just as that thought crossed my mind, a black taxi pulled up in front of the building. Takashi got out, clearly panicked. "What is wrong with you?! Get away from Mami!" "Oh, are you the woman-stealing bastard? Finally, we meet. You better clench your damn teeth!" "Don't! He's my fiancé!" Mami shouted.

okay did you guys know that the very first episode of La rosa de Guadalupe is rated a 4.8/10 on imdb. I never did watch it as a kid. I’ll tell you what though if I’m remembering faces right a telenovela I DID watch as a kid before or maybe overlapping with the ncisification of our household television time was Por ella soy Eva which I’m sure had no subconscious effects on me and who I am as a person now. Anyway. mess like this would net a way higher score than 4.8/10 on imdb. this was a visual gag before but you gotta understand I'm really stretching that 30 photo maximum

There was only one location in the area that could qualify as a café and was completely free. The owner of the devastatingly handsome face shot the three quarreling adults an ice-cold glare. "I will allow you to use my shop to settle this dispute on the condition that you do not damage anything inside. Understood?" The three of them all looked in different directions and nodded.

always so beautiful to see seigi in my minds eye standing just far enough away from the epicenter of mess. so beautiful for it to not be his fault for once

[…] I hastily prepared four glasses of barley tea from our stock. I didn't really feel like they needed to be served tea like they were customers, but I figured having drinks on the table might keep things a little more in check. Admittedly, that was just for my own peace of mind. Tatsuki and Takashi were seated across from each other in the four-piece lounge set. Richard had taken off his jacket and sat down next to Tatsuki, and across from him was Mami Sasu. I didn't have a chair, so I just stood by the table. I had a good view of everyone's faces from that position. Mami's hands and face looked almost uncannily pale as she sat in the chair, staring intently at her hands clenched in her lap. "Mami and I have been seeing each other for seven years. We were even living together until the winter of the year before last." ...Why did you have to mention that now?" "Because you up and left without telling me!" "Keep your voices down. This is my place of business, not a prison visitation room." Tatsuki hung her head a bit, ashamed, before continuing. She explained that in winter of the year before last, Mami, who she'd been living with up until that point, suddenly disappeared from their apartment. Her phone number had been disconnected and all her contact information had changed, and she'd gotten rid of all her things. Tatsuki frantically searched for her, to no avail. Just as she'd concluded that she must have left the city, a colleague of hers mentioned that they'd spotted a long-haired woman who resembled Mami in Ginza. Tatsuki couldn't contain herself and rushed over. This all happened to line up today. The worst of all possible days for such a coincidence. Tatsuki said they'd been "seeing each other" for seven years. You wouldn't phrase it like that to your friend's fiancé if you were just friends and roommates. More than anything, the vibe between them definitely didn't seem to be just friendship. So it was probably exactly what it sounded like.

refer to phoenixheadinhands.

"I'm sorry for tryin' to beat your ass earlier. All the info I had to go on was that there was an 'unbelievably hot man running a strange store' and that they'd 'seen Mami go into it.' The blood just went straight to my head. You really are unbelievably hot, but there's nothing strange about this store." "I'm flattered that you think so, but I would suggest trying to use your words before you grab someone by the collar next time."

Okay richard do you wanna take this time to maybe reflect on why seigi called you narcissistic earlier

"Um, Ms. Akashi, was it? Just what are you to Mami?" Takashi threw a straight ball, though I got the sense that he probably didn't even know how to throw a curve ball. He seemed the calmest next to Richard, even if that was ultimately just a front. Tatsuki stared at him intently. "Would you be asking the same question if I were a man?" Takashi flushed and hung his head, embarrassed, as she threw a straight ball right back at him. Before she could press the topic further, Mami mumbled, "I fell in love with a man. That's why I broke up with you." An icy chill hung over the shop.

Sorry everyone but can we please stop doing this. it’s killing the vibe. is anybody even drinking seigi’s tea

Richard and I exchanged silent glances and remained focused on Tatsuki's behavior. I really wasn't in the mood to have to kick someone out for causing trouble. ...What are you talking about? You were just going to toss me aside like I mean nothing to you to be with him? Bullshit!" "I was trying to be realistic about my future." "You always did mistake pessimism for realism. You're just a coward. Or is the old, 'normal is better' Mami back again? I certainly haven't missed that side of you." "We couldn't keep living together like we were going to be young forever. I'd just found a new job and everything. It was perfect. You don't mean anything to me anymore. I want to start over. Just forget about us and move on with your life." "Let me stop you there," Richard interrupted. The more Mami spoke, the sicker she looked, and she never so much as glanced at Tatsuki through the whole thing. With wide-open eyes and through gritted teeth, Tatsuki let out a little, "I see how it is. ...So, I don't mean anything to you, huh? Fine. But you listen here, Mami, that's not even what I'm mad about. We were dating. Dating. Remember? For seven years. Why couldn't you have said one word—just one word—to me before you up and vanished? I thought you might be dead. I thought maybe you got mixed up in something crazy and were lying dead in a ditch somewhere. I went to the police. I talked to all your old friends. Awful thoughts kept me up at night. I was driving myself crazy asking myself if it was my fault." "Well, that's all on you." "Just calm down, both of you. Please." I tried to mediate in a low tone, but really, I was thinking about something entirely different. Part of Tatsuki's story didn't seem to add up. Mami met Takashi in the spring of last year. If that was also when they started dating, then Mami would have left Tatsuki's apartment the previous winter before she met Takashi. But then, why did she come into the shop using "Akashi" instead of "Sasu"? Richard must've noticed this as well but politely held his tongue. If I was going to make up for the mistake I made when Takashi caught me at school, this was my only chance. But the moment the thought crossed my mind— "Mami, why did you use the name 'Akashi' when you came here?" Takashi beat me to it.

man would it kill you to just sit quiet for once. once in your damn life.

Mami had a look of abject despair on her face. She'd gone from white as a sheet to the color of death. She glanced at Richard and then at me, grimacing. There was no way she couldn't know whose fault that was. There was probably nothing I could possibly do to earn her forgiveness at that point. Tatsuki was baffled. "What? Akashi? What's he talking about, Mami?" I couldn't say that Mami looked like she was enjoying herself in Takashi's photo from that spring, even if I was trying to be generous. But in Tatsuk's photo of her, she looked happy and healthy—almost like a different person entirely. "This situation seems to be more complicated than I thought, so let me explain my side. She and I have been engaged for a year, and the wedding is set for August. But I have a proposal." "Oh, shut up. Just get married or whatever." "Mami, I don't mind if you cheat on me," Takashi said. For a moment, I thought Takashi had lost his mind. Tatsuki seemed to have the same reaction, and the two of us just sat there in a state of wordless shock. Mami looked up, her face expressionless. Takashi smiled, like a young father trying to reassure his small child. It was a forced smile though. You could see it in his eyes. "I do feel a bit sad that you never talked to me about your past, but I know you had your reasons. But I have a suggestion: Couldn't you think of love and marriage as separate things? I love you, and that'll never change, no matter what happens. You can just marry me and keep going out with Ms. Akashi if you like. Then everything can proceed as planned." His smile sent a chill down my spine. He's proposing that his fiancée date someone else? What does marrying Mami Sasu actually mean to this man? What does he even like about her?

refer to phoenixheadinhands.

Tatsuki clicked her tongue, breaking the silence. "Who the hell is this little rich boy anyway? Gimme a damn break, do you even hear what you're saying?" "I do. I can simply think of an affair with another woman as her having a 'very good friend' rather than romance. It won't bother me." "Well, I'm sayin' it'll bother me!" "I believe Mami already said that you don't mean anything to her anymore." Tatsuki snapped. Richard intervened after Takashi took a punch to the jaw. He was about to get into it with her, and if we let him, the situation would have devolved into complete chaos from there. I got him in an armlock when he stood up, but he still fought me. Before I knew it, Mami had stood up and grabbed her bag. "Mami! Wait!" She glared at me in response and ran down the stairs. While the cat and mouse were fighting, the cheese ran away. I felt like I'd seen a cartoon like that when I was a kid.

jesus. how could this get worse, I hear you asking. Ha ha ha ha ha

"I have some idea. I'm sure I could track her down." "Please do. Let me help." "Seigi," Richard softly scolded me. My one saving grace was the fact that we had no other appointments that day. Though it was beyond too late, I confessed that I'd told Takashi her name when he ambushed me as I was leaving campus. I thought Tatsuki might hit me, too, but she was just flabbergasted. "Richard, I'm so sorry. I know you put your trust in me. Take it out of my wages for today or fire me, whatever you think is appropriate. I'll do whatever's necessary to apologize to Mami."

Tatsuki and I rushed out of the shop at the same time. When we got downstairs, she tossed a card at me. It had the logo of a bass clef on it, along with her contact information. "I'll search Shibuya. Check any place you wouldn't think twice about a young woman being alone! If Mami dies, I'm gonna kill you, that Homura guy, and your boss!" Tatsuki slipped into the parking lot behind the building and reappeared in front of the store on a motorcycle, racing down the street. I looked up at Richard's jewelry shop, brought my hands together, and bowed my head before running toward the subway station.

[BOMB] [BOMB] [GUNFIRE] [EXPLOSIONS] [WILHELM SCREAM] also étranger treated as a place to pray to Seigi I’m gonna fucking get you. I’m gonna get you.

[マヨらサーティンreference.png] <- keeping that marker in actually

There’s just something about knowing the person you like believes in you that gives you strength.

If I hadn't said anything to Takashi back then, things wouldn't have gotten this bad. I knew regretting it now wouldn't change anything, but I did desperately want a chance to make it right.

I asked people if they'd seen a woman with long black hair who seemed kind of unwell but came up empty-handed. Just as I was trying to figure out what to do next, I got a text. It was from Tatsuki.

"Asakusa Shrine. We'd go there every year for the first shrine visit of the year. If you're close, take a look around there, please. There was an accident in Sangenjaya, so the line's stopped. I won't be able to leave for a while."

Asakusa. I could get there on the Ginza Line. Takashi must've had his hands full searching Tokyo Station. I replied that I'd take the express line from Ueno and hurried down into the subway.

Asakusa was crowded with tourists going to see the Skytree on a Saturday afternoon. I slipped under the massive paper lantern. The stalls were so crowded that it looked like a theme park. Kimono shops, Ningyo-yaki stalls, candied fruit sellers.

I made it back to the main hall of Senso-ji. Immediately to its right was Asakusa Shrine.

The grounds of the shrine were so peaceful and quiet, it was hard to imagine the hustle and bustle of the shopping arcade was just a few hundred feet away. The guardian lion-dog statues seemed to be almost lounging atop the white sand—and there was a woman with long black hair sitting on a bench. She was holding something that looked like a milk carton, with her legs splayed out comfortably. She waved when she noticed me. I let out a weird sound.

"Mami!"

My feet sank into the white sand as I ran across the grounds. I couldn't even laugh about it. I sat down next to her, and Mami set the carton she'd been drinking at her feet. It had "sake" written on it and was mostly empty.

"Did Tatsuki send you here? You guys really don't know how to respect a person's privacy."

"Sorry. I mean it, I'm really sorry. This is all my fault. Richard had nothing to do with it."

"I know. I don't really care anymore." She laughed.

She looked desperate. She probably didn't want Tatsuki or Takashi to see her like that.

"This reminds me of the first shrine visit of the year. This place is always full of people. Tatsuki's family makes kimono, so every year, we'd get dressed up for our visit. People would always tell us we looked so pretty or ask if we were sisters, which would make Tatsuki a little mad, of course. She can be so funny... You know about otakiage events, right? People would bring the talismans they kept in their homes for the past year to this place to be burned and honored in a memorial service. There's always a huge pile of charms and talismans to burn…"

"I'm going to call both of them. Tatsuki and Takashi are both very worried about you."

"Just let me talk a little more. You can call them after. It doesn't really matter."

"Yes, it does matter! They're both frantically searching for you!"

"Every time I would see that pile, I'd find myself wishing someone would burn me up, too."

Mami coughed. I was about to call them when she reached out for my phone to stop me.

I knew she didn't really want to talk to me alone. She didn't really want to talk to anyone.

"...So are you just gonna sit here drinking forever?"

"That wasn't the plan at least. I wanted to finally make a decision."

She stared off into space with a dreamy look on her face as she continued. She wasn't even looking at me, "I thought I could make it work, but I guess I was wrong. In my head, I knew what I needed to do, but I couldn't make my body cooperate. I couldn't sleep. I tried to eat, but it'd all just come right back up. I started losing weight to the point that it was just disgusting. Takashi is such a nice man, too... I guess I was just never going to be capable of marrying a man. I hate myself."

"What's the big deal? You don't have to force yourself to get married! Plus, utilitarian relationships are the furthest thing in the world from romance—that's what my boss thinks at least."

"Do you think I don't know that? It doesn't matter what anyone else says, though. I don't like myself, and I'll never be happy with the way I am. I always wanted to be a normal woman who got married to a man she loves and lived happily ever after, and I've always despised myself for not being that person."

"It doesn't matter, Tatsuki..."

Mami let out another weird cough mid-sentence. She seemed unsteady.

“…I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble. This had nothing to do with you, but I didn't see any other way."

"Any other way?"

Just as I asked that, she collapsed onto the white sand. The empty paper carton toppled over without a sound, and a plastic bag full of empty pill packages fell out of her brown shoulder bag. Alcohol and pills. This was her plan from the start.

"Mami!"

I shouted at her and smacked her cheeks, but she wouldn't wake up. I don't know what to do. Make her throw it up? But how? I had no idea. Hospital. I have to get her to a hospital. Ambulance.

I started running as I called for an ambulance on my phone. I didn't see anyone in the nearby shrine office. I ran to the closest food stall, looking for help, and they told me there was a hospital in the back. The back? The back where? There were plenty of elements here designed to mourn the dead—Kaminarimon, the garden, the pagoda, the temple, the shrine. This wasn't a joke. Where the hell is the hospital?

The back wheels of the vehicle rolled up onto the white sand as the metal steed abruptly changed course.

okay richard who’s the knight in shining armor NOW?

She arrived precisely on time for her appointment: Saturday at eleven 'o clock. The royal milk tea was just the right temperature.

"We've been expecting you. Please have a seat."

Mami had cut her long hair to just below her ears.

She looked much healthier than when I first met her, but that wasn't the only reason she seemed more cheerful than before. She looked me right in the eye and smiled.

"It's been ages. Have you been well? You know, I nearly died in Asakusa last month."

"I'm well aware. That isn't very funny.["]

well to be honest with you it’s pretty funny to me. Sorry

"The stone is 3.05 carats, AAA grade, originating from Mogok in Myanmar. It has not been heat treated. Ten million yen would be a conservative valuation."

I almost dropped the tray of tea. Ten million. Ten million. The stone she so casually dumped at the shop was worth ten million yen.

Mami seemed only a little shocked by the value. She let out a half-hearted "I see," and looked at the brooch that had finally been returned to her. She looked as though she were staring in a mirror.

[…]

Her hand under the jewelry box shifted, making the pigeon blood stone glimmer in the light.

"I also read that because we've only had heat treating technology for a few decades, no one knows what will happen to the stones in a century or so. Is that true?"

"If we're talking about modern heat treatment technology, it's conceivable someone may have said that. However, rubies have undergone heat treatment for over three hundred years. The process has a long history."

"The history of the pursuit of beauty, you could say."

Mami forced an awkward smile, went silent for a moment, and then began to mutter.

"I didn't regret my decision. I always wanted to be that girl. I didn't think what I was doing was wrong. But... as the wedding got closer, I started to feel afraid of my choice for the first time. And that's why I wanted to have the ruby checked."

She explained that if the ruby turned out to be heat treated, she would go through with the wedding. But if it wasn't, she'd rethink what she was doing. I guess that's what she meant by using it to tell her fortune. What on earth?

"Don't you have that backwards? I mean, a beautiful, untreated stone is way more valuable."

"All the more reason I shouldn't marry someone who would give me something like that. If only he'd given me some cheap trinket instead..."

I was so confused, my eyebrows started to twitch. Richard didn't say a word. Mami seemed to misunderstand the reason I was frowning.

"He's not a bad person. Sure, I was surprised he hired a private investigator, but it came from a good place. He might lose his cool sometimes, but... he really is a kind person."

I still wasn't sure exactly what sort of guy Takashi was. There were plenty of things about his behavior I wasn't crazy about, but he didn't seem irredeemably horrible, either. But that was probably why she considered marrying him.

don’t worry seigi look me in my eyes. You’ll never have to think about homura-san eeeever again after this. never ever.

"You must be tired from all that talking. Please, have some tea."

Mami took a sip of the tea at Richard's behest, and her eyes went wide. She stared at me.

"This is really good. Thank you."

"I learned how to make it from my boss," I said triumphantly.

Mami forced a smile and turned to Richard, "I believe you told him something to the effect of, 'utilitarian relationships aren't love.' That's a pretty powerful sentiment."

Richard shrugged, "You actually remembered that?"

I made an awkward expression, and Mami said to me with a smile, "Thank you for saving my life. It feels strange to be able to say that now, when I've wanted to die for such a long time."

She said it again. I had to wonder if she was really all right.

refer to phoenixheadinhands.

Richard pulled out the identification report and pointed to the "client" field. Mami's eyes went wide. It said "Mami Akashi."

"Could I trouble you to correct this? I do have to ask though, why did you use a false name?"

"...I'm so sorry. I don't even know, myself. I would use that name for fun when I was living with Tatsuki. Not that I've even said it at all recently..."

Mami took another sip of the royal milk tea I'd made. I couldn't say she was completely happy and free of worry, but she did look relieved. But what do I know, really?

"Um, so I don't mind if you don't want to answer this question, but why did you think it would be a good idea to force yourself to get married to a man?"

seigi loves to start an incredibly personal question like あのう…

"Why? Because that is what's considered 'normal' to most people in the world."

I looked confused. Mami continued.

"Do any of your friends live with their same-sex partner? Probably not, right? I'm not even talking about discrimination or harassment but the constant exhaustion of knowing you're not 'normal.' It's like trying to grow vegetables in the middle of the desert. I always wondered why I had to go through all this hardship that other people didn't, but maybe that's ultimately a grass-is-always-greener kind of thing."

"I mean, there are plenty of people who never get married, too."

"I know."

Mami told us about how she was raised. Don't cause other people trouble. Don't stand out too much. Live a normal life. Go to a normal school. Get married and have kids like a normal person. Raise them like normal. Grow old like normal. She was taught that this was the most comfortable, least remarkable, most trouble-free way to live. For example, she was taught to keep herself at a standard retail size when it came to clothing. Medium. The size that most people wear.

When she was on a school trip in junior high, a massive typhoon hit. Her home was destroyed, and her entire family died. News all over the country covered it as an unfortunate incident.

"That made me stand out a lot," she said, smiling while hardly moving the rest of her face. "Tatsuki and I are polar opposites. She hates 'normal.' She's the kind of person who makes her own clothes. I found it charming when we met, but when we lived together, we were so poor. I couldn't see a future for us, so I couldn't help thinking that maybe 'normal' really was better. I wanted to have an easier life. That's why I went back to full-time work, too."

"But it wasn't easier at all, was it?"

"Sure wasn't. Deathly so."

Mami laughed. Her laugh sounded so much brighter than her desperate voice back at the shrine, but I couldn't help still feeling worried for her.

"I don't think you should try that again. There are people who might die of grief if something were to happen to you. You'll be doing them a favor by valuing yourself more. This is starting to sound like a lecture, but I really mean it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You're probably right, but you know, it's still pretty hard to believe. It's weird, isn't it? I'm a total stranger with no family to speak of, but there are people I hurt just by treating myself like garbage."

"It is pretty weird. But when you love someone from the bottom of your heart, it changes you. I think that's only natural. I mean, maybe that's just what love is, right?"

But there was just something about her in that moment, like she felt unbearably sad, guilty, and heartrendingly happy all at the same time.

Mami wiped her eyes and looked at me like a displeased queen. "You don't look that much younger than me. Has anyone ever told you how presumptuous you are?"

"Sounds like somebody's just being a little childish to me."

"You know, you really are insufferable. Even if you did save my life."

I smirked, and Mami let out a slightly bashful laugh. That was the first time I felt like I could understand how the people who spent that day running around Tokyo and crying over her felt.* She really was charmingly awkward.

*- guy who spent that day running around tokyo over her. seeeiiiiigiiiiiii........

My boss, who had been silently listening the whole time, nodded, took a sip of his tea, and set the cup down.

"Ms. Sasu, do you know what a carat is?"

"You mean like how this ruby is 3.05 carats?" Mami confirmed.

"Exactly," Richard nodded. Then he looked at me, "Seigi, do you still remember what carats measure?"

“...They're a unit of measure for the weight of gemstones. One carat is 0.2 grams."

He replied with a "bravo." The question made me remember the time I'd asked him why they used carats and not grams. It was the day Mami showed up in the store for the first time.

"It's said that jewelers in ancient Greece used carob seeds to measure the weight of stones. Each of those seeds weighed around 0.2 grams. In Greek, the word for carob seed is 'kerátion,' which eventually became the word carat as we know it today."

One seed. One carat. I imagined someone with curly hair and dressed in a toga, placing seeds on a scale against a gemstone. I guessed seeds and gemstones were pretty similar in scale in terms of size and weight.

"In short, the carat is a unit of measurement created by jewelers specifically for gemstones and used exclusively for gemstones. It may not have the broad utility of centimeters and kilograms, but it's still useful for weighing gems. Of course, you could convert it to grams, but personally I find a world with a variety of diverse units of measurement much more comfortable, beautiful, and rich for it."

Mami giggled, like she understood something.

"Despite your cool and collected demeanor, you're quite passionate, aren't you? Well, I hope to be someone who makes the world a richer place, too."

"Everyone has their own universe, but the main difference is whether they turn their back on it or embrace it to cultivate it into a deep, bountiful sea. You mentioned using the stone to tell your fortune earlier, but the thing is, gemstones are mirrors that reflect their owners. You would have never received an answer that you didn't already desire."

“......"

"Ms. Sasu, I believe you already had your answer the moment you set foot in this shop."

“…I guess I'm the only one who didn't know that."

Richard flashed her a gentle smile that reminded me of a calm sea. I was kind of shocked to learn he could make an expression like that. Mami smiled meekly. She was a pretty impressive person to be able to ignore that face of his.

then here comes gayboy interrupting a tender moment of connection anyway #LESBIAN

"So, about the charge for the identification report. How much was it again?"

[…]

"It's on the house. I believe what you need right now isn't fine jewelry but to turn your gaze inward to your own sparkling beauty. Should the day come that you desire a gemstone that matches your own inner luster, please contact me. I promise I'll find you the perfect piece."

"Thank you. You've really gone above and beyond for me."

Mami bowed deeply, put the brooch away in her shoulder bag, and left the shop.

I was still a little worried, so after a moment, I poked my head out to watch her leave. I was greeted by the rev of a motorcycle engine as a bike with two people on it sped past.

“...You know, I've thought this ever since we were coming back from Kobe on the Shinkansen, but you really are a bleeding heart, aren't you? You care more about your customers' well-being than profit. Or are you thinking about how you sometimes have to take a loss to profit in the long run?"

"I'm not sure you'd call this a loss. I made a connection with Mr. Homura."

"With Takashi?"

"I met with him once more after the incident. His family are avid jewelry collectors. We already have plans for me to show them several pieces when next we meet."

I shouldn't have expected anything less from a globe-trotting salesman. If someone had a stone that incredible to begin with, landing them as a customer would probably be profitable in the end. He did sound a little embarrassed about it, though.

"What'd Takashi say?"

"Just that if I had any good stones, he wanted to see them. That's all."

“...Huh."

- words that won’t be of any consequence several novels from now

He was a pretty baffling person, too. I still couldn't believe he told someone he was really in love with that he didn't care if she cheated on him. Though at the same time, if you were really, painfully in love with someone who was truly hopeless... I could see how you might come to the conclusion that it didn't matter if you weren't number one in their heart, as long as you could be by their side. No matter what form that took, or how much you had to give up. I felt like I could understand that a little, at least.

But only just a little. I wasn't saying I understood pain so bad that it made you want to die.

"Prejudice isn't a question of preference but one of whether you are offering other human beings the bare minimum courtesy of treating them as human."

Richard cleared his throat when I said that was what I loved about him.

everybody do me a favor and look up 'hayao miyazaki smoking stressed'. thanks. Seigi I kind of hope you die

Richard looked at me like he was waiting for something, and I just smiled at him. "You know, you really are shockingly handsome, even when you frown."

The implication being, "test me all you like." I had reflected on my actions after that incident, after all.

STOP! ❌ ✋ 🛑 🙅 🚫 ALTO! SEIGI ヤメロ

Suddenly the displeased look left Richard's face and was replaced with a smile—like flipping a switch. It was strange, though, like a doll made of ice smiling. So beautiful it was terrifying.

"Thank you very much. I think I have a thorough understanding of where you're coming from."

"D-do you now? Well, good. You know, you're kinda… scary right now."

"We've run out of our stock of sweets. Would you run out and buy some more?"

dumb stupid idiot’s Last Ever Task. how the fuck am I gonna fit all these photos. Oh well

"This is too much. I can't buy all this. What are you thinking?"

Just as I fired off that text, another one came in. It wasn't from Richard. My heart skipped a beat the moment I saw the name "Tanimoto."

"Hi, Seigi! Is it true that you were in a sports car in Asakusa? My friend who works at a shop near the temple said the driving was incredible! Sounds like it was a really interesting game of hide-and-seek!"

What a misunderstanding. What a massive misunderstanding. And it was already being embellished in the telling.

I didn't even want to look at it. I didn't even notice that I was on a different message chain when I fired off a reply.

"Is that sports car yours, Seigi? Show it to me sometime!"

I'd sent my "got it!" in reply to Tanimoto's message.

The phrase "just deserts" came to mind.

it really should be ‘just desserts’ given our circumstances

I bought everything on the list and returned to the shop where Richard greeted me like everything was normal. He hadn't done anything wrong. Really, he hadn't.

(he had.)

It was all my own fault.

(it was.)

I'd understood the point he made but failed to put it into practice.

boy did you.

and that concludes this edition of Seigi Sunday on “The Ruby of Truth”. on this [punctual] [Sunday].

#seigi sundays #ITS SUNDAY TO ME!!!! ITS THE RIGHT SUNDAY TO MEEE!!!!!#lateness the consequence of one of the biggest pain in the ass semesters of my life. At least i have my best friend seigi #<- amending that tag to also include. like the flu? maybe? Got real gunked up. but at least i have my very best friend seigi……..#also Yeah the indentations are all screwed up in the second act because i had to them on my phone. i’ll see if tumblr won’t actually let me #fix em once i post the thing. in the meantime let me review for any other things that got janked by fucked up saving mechanics #Coming back after review. it should be fiiineeeeee #Be free. long fucking post #edit after posting: Fucked up indentations are here to stay #the case files of jeweler richard

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acourtofthought · 1 year ago

Text

"Elain would make a terrible High Lady"

"I've seen Rhysand do such ... horrible things, seen him play the dark prince over and over."

"I am here to help you fight against Hybern." "Bullshit," Cassian muttered.

"You'd be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one." "No one says war can't be lucrative," Helion countered.

I waited for it - for the blow that would surely doom us. We were thieves who had deceived him, we had come to his house in peace and stolen from him, had ripped into their minds to ensure our success.

One moment, Azriel was seated. The next, he'd blasted through Eris's shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them. / "Call of your overgrown bat," Beron ordered Rhys. Rhys was enjoying it, bargainw ith Eris or no - could have ended it seconds ago.

"You're a coward," I breathed to the High Lord of Autumn. Beron just said, "The same could be claimed of you." My stomach churned. "I don't need to explain myself to you." "No, but perhaps to that girl's family - but they're dead, too, aren't they? Butchered and burned to death in their own beds.

There was still much work to be done, trust to build.

The High Lords quarreled the most about the possibility of a new wall. And with every word of it, just as Helion said, that temporary allegiance frayed and snapped.

"We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace." "Then perhaps Jurian and Vassa should deal with them."

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly. I opened my mouth and shut it. / "They're hypocrites." "And what would you have me do, then? Disband the largest army in Prythian?" Azriel didn't answer.

"Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male." "I can't say I'm particularly sorry that he did." "You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully." I didn't want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. "My business with him is done." "Yours might be, but Rhys's isn't. And you'd do well to remind your mate of that fact."

And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability.

I find the "Elain would make a terrible High Lady" arguments odd. The above is just a small list of what the leadership in Prythian looks like and the actions of those that report directly to a High Lord (who should be able to expect certain behaviors from his inner circle in important meetings or in regards to an entire group of their people). I'm not even trying to suggest that anyone is a bad High Lord, clearly Rhys and his ICs actions are meant to read as amusing and entertaining or warranted. And I think in certain situations there's only choosing between the lesser of two evils.

But it's evident that no one is perfect, that even the current High Lords are capable of mistakes and drama. And with so many strong personalities currently in charge, there is space for someone who approaches things in a different manner.

She had come alive here, and her joy was infectious. There wasn’t a servant or gardener who didn’t smile at her, and even the brusque head cook found excuses to bring her plates of cookies and tarts at various points in the day.

She had looked at that cottage with hope. I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger.

She was generous, loving, and kind.

Elain had taken charge of planning

Elain, to my surprise, had a horse, a satchel of food, and supplies ready when I hurried down the stairs.

She put a hand on Nesta's knee. "Feyre gave and gave - for years. Let us now help her. Help ... others."

A lady - that's what Elain would become. What she was risking for this. (Lady?!? As in High Lady?! Possible foreshadowing???)

"I'll do it," Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn't wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, "And as for Feyre's hunting during those years, it was not Nesta's neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us."

Nesta went on, utterly unimpressed by any of us, "I assume you'll want to stay the night." I said, "If it's not too much trouble, then yes. We'll leave after breakfast tomorrow." Nesta didn't smile, but Elain beamed.

But Elain's cry - a warning. A warning to - . To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last.

Then Elain said quietly, "We could move them to Graysen's estate." "His father has high walls - made of thick stone. With space for plenty of people and supplies." "There are escape tunnels," Elain whispered. "Perhaps it is better than nothing." A glance between the Illyrians. "We can set up a guard - " Cassian began. "No," Elain interrupted, her voice louder than I'd heard it in months. "They...Graysen and his father..." Cassian's jaw tightened. "Then we cloak -" "They have hounds. Bred and trained to hunt you. Detect you." / Elain considered. "I can speak to him." "No," I said - at the same moment Nesta did. But Elain cut us of. "If - if you, and they" - a glance at Rhys, my friends - "come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs." "Glamour me," Elain said - to Rhys. "Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set those wards around the estate." "This could end very badly, Elain." "It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences." "Wisely said," Mor offered, smiling softly at Elain.

Then she was gone - shoulders a little squarer.

Elain offered a half smile. "I suppose that war makes wanting things like that unimportant."

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king's neck as she snarled in his ear, "Don't you touch my sister."

Elain swept in, apron gone and hair re-braided. "Please don't wait on my account," she said, taking the seat at the head of the table.

"It's their tradition though," Elain countered, her face still flushed with the cold. "One that they fought and died to protect in the war. Perhaps that's the better way to think of it, rather than feeling guilty. To remember that this day means something to them. All of them, regardless of who has more, who has less, and in celebrating the traditions, even through the presents, we honor those who fought for it's very existence, for the peace this city now has." For a moment I just stared at my sister, the wisdom she'd spoken. Not a whisper of those oracular abilities. Just clear eyes and an open expression.

"I asked Nuala to do it in that order," Elain said as the others gathered round. "Because you're the foundation, the one who lifts us. You always have been.

Elain, mourn as she might for the life she would have had with Graysen, had found a place, a role here. Tending to the gardens of Feyre's veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens.

She had purpose, and joy, and friends. But those things had always come easily to her sister. Had always made Elain special.

When Rhys spoke like that, it was more of a command than a question. Elain waved a hand in dismissal.

"Using me."

"Elain showed some teeth."

"Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one's hands dirty along the way".

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn't hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was part of this court - and would do whatever was needed.

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Let's recap. Elain owns up to her mistakes, gives credit where credit is due, is wise, observant, easily makes friends, can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles, is willing to help out a people she only just became one of (and grew up fearing), brave when the situation calls for it, takes charge and pushes back on topics she thinks are important and is now offering herself up to dangerous situations. I also think it's important to note her diplomatic nature. Whereas Feyre and Nesta spent their childhood at one another's throats and hating their father, Elain managed a decent relationship to all three. No, she's not in a place to rule an entire court all on her own but neither was Feyre, that's why she had a partner by her side to help her learn (as Elain would too, these are romance books after all).

Prythian doesn't need another ruler who is willing to burn relationships in order to achieve a specific end result. No shade to Rhys, he's extremely self sacrificing and someone needs to fill the role that he does.

But we don't need another Rhys and Feyre, another Beron, another Tamlin, or even Tarquin (who while being a good male, doesn't really seem to go out of his way to interact with other courts). It needs a set of rulers who are better at negotiating peace between not only the courts but the human lands and those on the continent.

We know Lucien is set up to be a High Lord at some point (though something would need to happen to Helion for him to begin ruling in Day) and Elain is his mate. We know Tamlin is not currently any sort of leader to Spring so that means there could be a vacancy there. I doubt SJM told us that Elain's scent was a "promise of Spring" and that "the Spring Court had been made for someone like Elain" for absolutely no reason.

Of the possible future pairings, who would make more sense ruling the Fae in either Spring or Day?

Vassa and Lucien? Vassa who is a human Queen and has shown absolutely no interest in the needs of the fae after the war?

Az and Gwyn? Neither Gwyn or Az have been given hints that they'd be leaders of a court nor do they currently have anything to do with Day Court or Spring. Yes, Gwyn has Spring heritage through her grandmother but she doesn't have a connection to the political system there, nor does Az. Not like Lucien.

I think there is a huge amount of evidence showing why Elain would make an excellent leader and that's not even accounting for the fact that mates are equals. Even if in some weird twist she and Lucien don't end up together, it doesn't change that fact.

Mates are reflections of one another.

Rhys was the most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history, Feyre became his High Lady with the power of all 7 High Lords, both having a darkness to them.

Cassian is one of the strongest Illyrian's and the general of the Illyrians. Nesta had the power of death and is set to be the general of the Valkyries.

Lucien is a High Lords heir, showing the markers of such (knocking Cassian from his rage with a single word) AND has strong fire powers through his mothers line. Through Lucien we learned that High Lords are a different breed and through the Suriel we learned that they are not merely powerful, they are Power.

Elain as his mate would need to be a match to Lucien's power and even if she were not a High Lady chosen by the magic, there is little chance Lucien would not make her his High Lady as Rhys made Feyre his, meaning she would be a ruler by his side.

Diminishing all that we know of Elain and what we know of mates, claiming she'd be a horrible ruler though SJM mated her to a future High Lord, it's fandom pettiness born of hatred for her character.

#elucien #elain archeron #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #high lady elain

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thisuserislilsilly · 3 months ago

Text

Summary: It's just a escort/bodyguard duty, it is just a escort duty, everything will turn out fine (not)

Genre: Action/drama/fluff

Pairing: Jubik (adoptive-family) x Kubayen (adoptive family), MENTION of Ogodei/Hildegard (my OC of the Phantoms OG creator @cardinalcanis), MENTION of Roza/Jetah (the Witcher)

TW: Foul language, some fluff, blood, mentions of gore

Word count: 3203 words

Goblin tag squad (lemme know if you wanna get tagged too): @finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis @jaghatai-khock

Premonitions

If there was one thing Ogodei despised more than peaceful long periods of time, it was being used as "escort" by some planetary noble that somehow someway had enough power to request the Ember Nomads as their personal escort for the day.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Ogodei hissed under his breath, the massive beast of a man having to add into his armor all the distinctions and medals he had 'won' in all of his campaigns and battles.

It made his already heavy set armor all the more bulky and awkward, making him move less like a predator and more like a walking wall of metal. He was sure that the only reason they even gave him such a large dress code requirements was because the noble they were going to guard would probably wish to bloat about having a Space Marine Chapter at his grasp for a single night.

The Ember Nomads were not a well known Chapter for preceding these kinds of duties, but the few times they actually decided to take up some work like this one, it was usually when the noble would give the Ember Nomads something valuable in return.

"Brothers," Ogodei growled, the massive man's voice a deep bassy baritone, the other five Space Marines of the squad he was on faced him. "We are all ready? We have what we need?"

"Yes, Brother-Sergeant." A male voice replied, Ogodei turning his head to face the Space Marine. The battle-brother, known as Nianzu, was the newest member of the squad. He was still in his early years on the company, and barely having the strength to wield the heavy flamer he had equipped.

Ogodei nodded, before turning back around to face the rest of his squad.

"Then let's go, and hope to the Emperor he gives us enough patience to endure all this bureaucratic-"

"Bullshit" Nianzu ended the phrase on a word that made his other comrades smile

"Nonsense, Nianzu, that was the word…you're not in the scouts anymore." One of them chuckled

"Ah, forgive me brother, I'm still used to speak my mind as a regular battle-brother…"

"Do not worry about it, you will be able to pick up the patterns until it becomes part of you" Ogodei nodded to the young man, who looked down in embarrassment

The Noble palace was a very beautiful and imposing building. Not nearly as big as the fortress back in his homeward, but certainly a sight to behold, a perfect example of human ingenuity in the far extensions of the galaxy where they should be cautious instead of making such pompous architectures such as that palace.

It was an architectural marvel, built with the simple raw materials that the Feudal world could extract from their soil. But this wasn't what attracted the Space Marines attention, they were focused on the numerous guards around the area.

The place was crawling with guards, from the lowly serfs to the well armed and armored guards, their weapons were far too primitive for the full might of the Nomads, but were strong enough to pack a punch or kill any lowlife human that tried to misbehave in the ceremony, however if things got far worse than what the planetary defense forces could handle that's where the squads of Ogodei and the other Nomads came in. Their presence there was twofold, in one hand they were there to be the last line of defense for the rich and powerful of the planet against rebels or your typical hidden Chaos cult amongst the population, the other purpose was to display how vast the network of friends and allies did the planetary regent had to have Space Marines as allies.

For Ogodei and his brothers, however, this was a complete waste of time; they weren't made for this, trained for this, they were the Emperor's warriors, for Chatum sake! They were supposed to be out there, in the stars, fighting against the enemies of Mankind and defending the weak from the strong, not squabbling with those soulless and treacherous people that called themselves "regents". For a moment, Ogodei had prayed that something bad occurred, something to spice things up just a little bit to feel alive again.

The sounds of foreign music snapped him back to reality, each squad of Marines were posted on all the entry points and exits of the palace, windows, rooftops, by the Emperor some of them were in the nearby buildings with long range rifles scanning every area and every guest for potential dangers; that place couldn't be any more safer for the regent even without the planetary guard. Ogodei gag reflex kicked in when he heard whoever was singing that horrifically out of tune melody, the voice of the singer was so hideous that he wouldn't be able to understand a single word in Low Gothic despite having the spreadsheets for the lyrics right in front of him; yet another reason to miss home, miss Cthonipem and their ship, he envied those who had stayed behind, they didn't had to listen to this mess.

"Cheer up a bit Ogodei, you look so rigid I might be able to think you are a stone instead of a living being!" The voice of Jubik blasted through his helmet communication system

"You can at least entertain yourself by fiddling around with the sniper rifle, Jubik...the rest of us are left to listen to this insufferable mess" The Nomad groaned

"If you wish I could tell you my first time assisting to one of these kinds of missions, oh it was the second most dreadful day of my life only being topped by the day that Pakuste bit my arm off-" Jubik was setting himself up for another long and pointless retelling

"Hey I think Kubayen wants to hear that, not me" Ogodei smirked behind his helmet

"Mmmm I suppose you have a point there Ogodei...hey little bird, come here for a second and listen to your Captain!" The voice of the veteran got away from the microphone for an instant

"Ogodei I fucking hate you" the Neophyte cursed in a murmur

"We all went through that kid, it is your turn now" Ogodei cut the transmission before the scout could keep on insulting him

The Nomad glanced around, making sure all was still in order with his squad and the rest of the guards. The regent was safe, and that was what mattered most. A loud, obnoxious horn blared through the courtyard, signaling the arrival of another guest. Ogodei rolled his eyes, recognizing the pompous mannerisms of the Imperial Senator from Deltan. Great, just what they needed, another self-important windbag to grace the party.

"5th company to all units" he murmured into his comm. "Stay sharp. The Senator is on his way, it is the last registered guest, do not let anyone else in."

As the Senator and his entourage approached, all the Nomads on his way puffing their chests and looking straight ahead to salute. The fake smile on the man was evident, with a bit too much relish, as the Senator proceeded to take center stage. As the ceremony of introductions began, Ogodei stood at ease holding his bolter more relaxed, watching the man with a mix of professional detachment and disdain. The Senator's long, preening speech about his accomplishments and the glory of the Imperium wore thin quickly, and the Nomad found himself fighting back a yawn. It was going to be a long night.

A serving girl finally brought the Senator a goblet of wine, and he accepted it graciously, raising it in a toast to the Emperor. "To his Majesty, may he reign for a thousand years more!" the Senator boomed, his voice echoing across the room. Ogodei glanced at his squadmates, who shrugged in response. The rest of the 5th Company remained at attention, their faces expressionless. The Nomad couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before the Senator grew bored with the attention and wandered off to harass someone else.

As the rest of the party went on, Ogodei remained attentive, his mind constantly scanning the area for any signs of danger or disorder. The musicians played, the food and wine flowed, and the nobles danced and gossiped.

The Senator monopolized the conversation more often than not, regaling guests with tales of his supposed heroism and political prowess. The Nomad fought back a sigh, rolling his eyes every now and then when the man particularly annoyed him. The night wore on, the comms coming to life a few times in routine check-ups and updates from the rest of the companies assigned to the tasks until the personal link between Jubik and Ogodei turned on again

"Status update. There's a fleet gathering near the planetary rim, and they do not look so friendly. The speculation of my scouts is that they are here to take out the regent, the Senator and anyone else who could be important enough for the stability of the planetary regency" The communication cut out for a second then it came back. "Get ready to fight, if you can evacuate the civilians, we will take overwatch"

Ogodei nodded grimly, he looked back to his squad and used Cthonipem sign language to communicate orders to his squad, then repeated the information given by Jubik to the rest of the companies stationed in the palace; in a few moments everything turned into an disorganized chaos despite the Marines best efforts to calm everyone down and make a organized extraction. The sounds of alarm and confusion filled the air as the guests of the palace became aware of the impending threat.

Ogodei quickly assessed the situation, scanning the crowd for the regent and the Senator. The Nomad saw the regent running towards the exit, surrounded by his personal guard, it would've been a pointless effort to concentrate all of their attention to an already secured target.

He motioned for his squad to follow him as he charged after the Senator, pushing through the panicking masses.

"Jubik, you and your squad cover our six, make sure no one follows us! The rest of the 5th, spread out and help secure the exit!"

Ogodei barked into his comms. As they neared the exit, they saw the Senator dithering near the doorway, his eyes widening in fear as the reality of the situation set in. Ogodei grabbed the man roughly by the collar and dragged him towards the exit while being closely followed by his squadmates.

"Move, you cowering windbag!" He growled, shoving the Senator out of the palace.

Outside, Marines were already forming up and engaging the enemy ships with their guns aimed high, overwhelming the transport units to slow down their advance. Ogodei looked around, spotting his commander, Commander Harkonnen, barking orders to the scattered units. "Commander!" he yelled, waving his arm above his head to get Harkonnen's attention. The Nomad saluted with a nod to the rest of his company. "The Senator is with us, we need to get him to safety!" Commander Harkonnen's eyes narrowed, and he nodded. "Damn it. Get him to the bunker, Ogodei. And make sure he doesn't slow us down."

As they ran, the sounds of battle raged all around them. Marines returned fire with heavy weapons and the support of the guard as the enemy forces advanced on the palace, their numbers swarming like locusts. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and burning fuel. The ground shook with the impact of explosions as ships fired upon the palace area. The Nomads reached the bunker's entrance, where Marines were frantically working to secure it. Ogodei pushed the Senator inside and closed the blast door on the man's terrified face. They had accomplished their primary target, the other companies reported as well through the comms that most of the civilians had been successfully evacuated; all of what was left now was to repel the enemy forces, what all of Ogodei squad was eager to do since the whole charade had begun hours ago.

The following counterattack almost looked unfair for the rebels, their tactics of wearing off the defenders with their numbers quickly proved to be useless when the Astartes turned their full attention towards them; faster than the normal human eye could track, most of the first line amongst the foe died within seconds in a whirlwind of guts and viscera, their blood splattered into the pale yellow armor of the Nomads who attacked with perfect coordination between each battle-brother close combat and the shot of their allies from a distance. It looked more like a tornado of death rather than a fair fight.

As they pushed forward, from the top of the nearby buildings the 10th company deployed in full, taking long range support fire for any Nomad they could spot; the heads of the backline defenders exploded as the scouts honed in on them, all guided to the last minute detail by Jubik; his laughter and bellowing orders could be heard even above all of the shouting and screaming by the rebels.

When the enemy started to retreat, a Spirit started to possess Ogodei whenever he had the opportunity of using his energy sword, the blood and gore went to the back of his mind, it became just a blur white noise not worthy of any other input other than the honed in techniques of sword mastery he had practiced a thousand times before. No, his mind went to someplace else, to think of someone else.

It came out of nowhere and it didn't made sense he would start thinking of her now...her...Hildegard; where was she? What could she be doing? Would she be in a war zone just like him, or would she be resting on her ship, brushing her hair and making headbands to tie them with? Ogodei washed he could've stayed more time with her, spend more time just being around Hildegard, that's all of what he needed, that was all of what he wanted his life song to be about. His friend, his companion, his....

A stray bullet impacted right on the center of his helmet, making a single dent in it but having enough g-force to snap Ogodei out of it, he blinked twice to shake those thoughts away, what was he thinking? The mission was more important, the retaliation, the defense of that planet. While he was out of it Nianzu had taken a shot to his left leg and was starting to bleed lightly, what had been more hurt was his pride though, Ogodei could notice it through the way he was breathing on his comm which he had left open by accident but none of his squad mates wanted to embarrass him by speaking up about it. The rebels were almost done, the evacuation shuttles were arriving to the bunkers where the Senator and the regent had been left off; now they just needed a way out of the planet.

"We are clear over here; anyone still on this channel?" Ogodei opened the vox general channel

"The 7th is uh...ready to get out of the zone, over"

"Copy that, 9th ending it's last resistance points"

"We clear up here too; the boys look as happy as ever...where the hell is our transport?" Jubik asked, looking up at the sky.

Something was not right, if one of the companies had already sent the signal to the flagship, only one, the message would had already been delivered, copied and obeyed about fifteen minutes ago; it was not normal for that procedure to take that long. In the still air, Ogodei could hear everyone else's breathing, hard, long, sometimes shallow, other times quick but all fully exhausted. The battle hadn't been fierce, not to the Nomads standards, but it undoubtedly has tired out the troops just like any other engagement would do either way.

"Jubik are you sure there were not other ships inbound?" Ogodei opened the comm link

"For the homeworlds plains I am sure of it! I saw the reports myself and checked for any mistakes twice!"

"Then it is not us..." Ogodei mumbled, switching to his company channel "Commander Harkonnen? Sir? You there?...commander, respond"

"I do not like this..." Adden walked up to his Sargeant

Ogodei remained silent, making sure his squad was following him the Nomad traced his steps back to the bunker and opened it. There was a stench, a putrid stench; everyone pulled their sidearms and slowly walked deeper into the installation, checking every corner and every room, the odor was becoming more nauseating at each step taken. The walls began to morph around them, mutate.

"Chaos..." Nianzu whispered

The others gave the newbie a look and kept going. Now a crimson red smeared the morphed walls, they found the bodies of the regent personal guard and then later the Senator with his eyes wide open, pale, dried to the bones like if something had sucked the life out of him, a couple of steps and with the odor to such a strong point even the Astartes helmets couldn't properly filter it out, commander Harkonnen laid kneeled down, his head raised and his bolter on the floor beside him.

"They showed me...oh they showed me the way-" The regent was in the center of a bloody pool, levitating above it "Can't you see it Ogodei?"

"See what?" Ogodei answered wearily, his brothers still aiming their weapons

"They call you....ohhhh they call you too; they say you're different. Yes...yes...like your old fool...like your psyker...y'all see it, you all get it!"

"Give me the knife, regent" Ogodei marked every word

"Yes...yes! Take it, it is yours! It craves being used by you, spill blood for you, murder for you! It has been waiting for you, Ogodei!" The voice now didn't match the lips of the man that was blurting them out

Without a warning, the crazed man rushed with the knife held high to Ogodei; every Nomad in the room pulled their triggers in unison and absolutely decimated the body of the man to the point not even one single bit of flesh was left in the ground where it had been, just a bloody mark. Ogodei had his eyes fixed on the knife, it had slid towards him and was at his feet. He thought for a moment that his reflection wasn't perfect; he was paler, without his helmet, a short mohawk replaced his long hair and there was a figure behind him...cloaked in shadow

"Sarge...sarge!" Adden lightly shook his brother

"Wh-what?" Ogodei stuttered, breaking eye contact with the object

"I said we should return upstairs, commander Jubik said he finally got through to the ship, they're sending the shuttles now"

Ogodei only nodded, feeling goosebumps all of the sudden. He dared not to look down at the knife again or the man that had held it. Instead he turned to leave, being the last one in passing through the doorframe. "You're different...special...there are others like you" the Nomad felt a unnatural wind come from behind him, but he still resisted the urge to investigate what that had been. Like all Ember Nomads, Ogodei knew that listening to voices like those only led to damnation.

#fanfiction #custom warhammer chapter #warhammer fanfic #warhammer headcanon #warhammer 40000 #ember nomads #oc space marines #warhammer 40k #fanfic writing #wh40k oc

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sadruru · 1 year ago

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A little bit about the events in Barovia: I'll describe a bit of what happened to Light and her company. 1. In the Baron's mansion we had to fight the guards who were looking for Viktor Vallakovich for some reason. We killed them. Nita didn't like it, with low HP she freaked out and decided to lift the couch instead of Ismark. Failed her athleticism test and got a bleed. Light decided to help and angrily healed her.

2.I didn't tell you last time, but this guy's name is Albian. A red-haired guy with green clothes and green eyes. He's a warlock, but he's not an elf. He was originally born human, but Light somehow managed to talk to him separately and found out that his special appearance is due to a pact, just like his hat. Berries and flowers constantly grow on the hat, and he can't take it off for long. Albian didn't say who he made the pact with, and Light didn't insist. But she quickly realized that it seemed to be one of the very powerful fairies. He also talks weird. Like a storyteller from a fairy tale. And he gave everyone nicknames. He calls Light a blackberry. We offered to help him find Victor, his friend (yes, in our game, he is Victor's good friend). We agreed. But he only whispered what he looked like in Light's ear. I was shocked by such an act, blushed and banged my fist on the table for a long time. Yeah, I like watching them as a funny couple.

3. Light ran off in embarrassment with Tyrin, a priestess of Suna, the goddess of love and beauty. Somehow, miraculously, things had devolved into a rather personal conversation. Light told a bit about herself. The half elf tried to convince the fairy that she should try to open her heart again and not remember the past. Light really wants to go home.

Even I myself was amazed by this kind of conversation, even though this is my first time playing DnD. We talk to each other a lot. It brings out our characters more. And it seems like Light really fell in love~

4. …But someone clearly has trust issues, and there are many reasons for that. Because of the Shadow Plan, the fairy has emotional problems. She never feels happy or cheerful. Sveta dislikes people very much… She killed those who betrayed her and felt nothing, no conscience torments her. It scares her. I've noticed that a lot of my characters have trust issues. I need to think about it…

5. We fled the city from an angry mob of peasants. We stopped for the night in the woods on the way to the Abbey of St. Markovia. We even found Victor! Now we have a long rest. Turns out Albian can do different hairstyles (he has 2 younger sisters). Light got brave and asked him to braid her hair. He agreed.

I'm really glad he's being nice to her at all. But I've been told that he and Victor are in this story for a reason and could be very disappointing…

I love the drama and the glass eating. Thanks. I wish I hadn't been told that... 🗿

6. Right now, Light wasn't thrilled with her appearance. But Albian hinted that Victor might be able to tell her something about her problem. I already know what's haunting her. I'm freaked out by that fact. Maybe later I'll drop a hint who exactly.

7. Darcy is our dhampir. The whole group wishes she and Ismark were together. He's really paying attention to her. Albian's finished with her hair. Even added flowers.

Light is cute~ But Albian is blind and can't see that she really likes him 🗿🗿🗿

And me, of course. Some memes!~ I once stayed up all night and day. I turned into the Joker. I told jokes, screamed about crazy ending theories, about Victor, Albian, myself, panicked. The Dungeon Master just silently read my ramblings with interest... and smiled. Shook my hand in messages. I'm really scared now and I'm wondering what's going to happen next. What did I sign up for?!..

#artists on tumblr #oc #original character #art #didgital art #digital drawing #illustration #dnd 5e #curse of strahd

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livelaughlovetighnari · 8 months ago

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— chapter 11

Pairing: haku x reader

Genre: romance, drama, action

[Lost and Found masterlist]

[Read it on Wattpad]

After Yubaba dismissed them both, Yua and Haku went they respective ways going to do who knows what.

Yua went to find Lin as she saw her cleaning one of the tubs.

"Lin." Yua called.

Lin looked up and stood up.

"Mistress Yua! Is there a problem?" Lin asked.

"I'm will be gone for a month for a mission, and I need someone to look after Sen, can you do that for me?" Yua said while she grabbed Lin's hands in her own.

Lin was confused with the strange request as she never really saw them interact but obliged none the less.

"Of course! After all, Sen is under my care." Lin said proudly as Yua gave her a small smile.

"Now, remember that you only have one month to do the mission. Use it wisely." Yubaba told the two as she turns around and created a portal to the human world.

"Are there gonna be any side effects?" Yua asked since it's her first time going through the portal.

"You might get dizzy for a few minutes, but it doesn't hurt." Yubaba replied

"Now go. Don't waste your time."

Haku reached out for your hand and held it because he already knew what would happen because he has already done this before.

"Brace yourself for impact. I don't wanna be the cause of your injury." Haku said to you and started to walk inside the portal dragging him with you.

"Wait-" Yua didn't finish what she was saying as she stumbled inside the portal.

They were suddenly pushed in a hole with a bunch of colors flashing in the background.

"AHHHH!" Yua screamed and clinged on Haku's arm for balance.

Haku could only smile as he didn't really get into physical contact with Yua that often.

A light appeared infront of them as they stumbled out of the hole.

Haku stood up and brushed off some dirt from his clothes while Yua was sitting on the ground with birds flying around her head.

Haku could only laugh as Yua shook her head and crossed her arms.

"Stop laughing! This is no time to laugh!" Yua exclaimed as she flapped her arms around.

Haku is calming down from laughing as he wiped some tears from his eyes.

"Ahh, now that we're here, let's go find a place to stay for some time." Haku lend out a hand which Yua took and helped her stood up.

Yua noticed that she slightly got taller and her chest area slightly got bigger.

"Oh by the way, our appearances change here at our exact age." Haku explained to her as he noticed she was looking at herself.

Yua could only nod at him and walk away, leading for Haku to follow.

They wondered around the city as it was filled with busy shops.

"Humans stinks." Haku said as he covered his nose.

You just ignored him as you can't really smell it as you are a human yourself.

"Flowers! Get flowers for your loved ones!"

The sudden voice peaked your interest as you look at where the voice was directed.

It was a small shop with an old woman directing it.

Yua subconsiously walked to the flower shop as Haku was distracted looking at people putting up festival decorations.

"Ahh young lady, would you like to buy one? I'll give you this one for free!" The kind old lady gave her a single lily flower.

"Ah! Thank you!" Yua smiled as she putted the lily in her hair.

As she was in the flower shop, Haku was looking for her as he noticed that she was gone by his side.

He then noticed Yua's figure in the flower shop as began striding to her.

"I didn't know you'll be interested in flowers. Choose some and I'll pay." Yua slightly jumped at the voice behind her.

"No no! The lady already gave me a flower. Look!" Yua showed Haku then Lily that was on her hair as Haku couldn't help but admire.

She looks beautiful... Haku slightly blushed at her.

Yua seemed to notice the change of look in his face.

"What's wrong? Are you sick?" She was about to put the back of her hand in Haku's forehead but he slapped her hand away.

"I'm fine. L-let's just go." He yanked her arm as Yua bid a goodbye to the lady.

"I have found a good place for us to stay in." Haku said as they arrived at a hotel.

They walked inside and went to the receptionist.

"Mr. Haku! You came back I see. Would you like another reservation?" The lady asked as she seemed quite familiarized by Haku.

"Yes, and can you make the room have two beds? I have an accompany with me." Haku said.

"Oh I'm sorry but the two beds rooms are out. You have to share one bed." The receptionist said.

Yua's face turned into a shocked one.

"Can we just have seperate rooms?" Yua asked.

"Sorry, but there is only one room left. Here is your key have a nice night!" The lady putted the key into Haku's palm as the two walked off.

They didn't see the smirk that was on the receptionists face.

#studio ghibli #anime #spirited away #hayao miyazaki

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demonologist-in-denim · 2 years ago

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Under The Weather

“This is completely ridiculous!” Despite his best efforts, Crowley’s roar was more likely to inspire pity than cowering, even to his own ears. “I do not need a cup of tea. I do not need a blanket, or my temperature taken, or a nap, or any of the rest of this bloody nonsense – I am not sick!”

A wooziness just about dragged him down into the plumpness of the pillow. He rallied against it, if only momentarily.

“I,” he crankily reminded his caretaker, “am a demon!”

Balancing a full tray of cuppa, plate of chocolate-covered biscuits, thermometer, tissue box, and a vial of something vile, Donna clucked her tongue as she strode purposefully over to the couch. Crowley and the couch were old friends – he’d slept in her living room plenty of nights when they were passing through on a case. But he’d never been laid up on it like this before, and it infuriated him to no end.

“Just cuz you didn’t know ya could get sick doesn’t mean ya ain’t.”

Crowley glared at her, but Donna just beamed at him, said “scooch”, and made a little room for herself on the couch down by his feet. She held the cup of tea out temptingly.

“Sure, you’re a demon, alright. Mostly.” Her bright smile only widened at his withering look. “But apparently not so much that ya didn’t get cold from being out in that storm. Don’cha know when to get in outta the rain?”

Her teasing was having an annoyingly soothing effect.

“Just because flash flooding is a symptom of climate change and not caused by the supernatural doesn’t mean we sit around on our hands when there’s work to be done.” Crowley crossed his arms over the blanket, aware that he looked and was acting petulant, but unable to avoid it. “How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that…”

He attempted to cover up his sudden discomfort by relieving Donna of the teacup and taking a considerable swallow.

Her smile took on a softer quality to it. “That yer this close to being fully human?”

“Bah.” Crowley sputtered around the teacup. “Bloody nuisance is all it is.”

“Well,” the hunter pulled a small fold-out table close and set the tray on it. “Somehow, I don’ think the people that you pulled to safety in that bit of high water would say the same.”

The reformed demon evaded her eyes, munching on a biscuit.

“And, as a reward for your heroic efforts,” Donna picked up the remote and began to zap through the channels on the TV, “while Sam and Dean are off solving that case here in town, you’re gonna get the royal treatment here at Hanscum Spa and Wellness Resort! You got yer blanket and pillow, yer moisturizing tissues, at least three kinds a’ tea, and all the streaming services a person could want!”

Crowley grunted, considering.

“And, I’ll be here if ya need anything. Just holler!” Donna gave him a solid pat on the shoulder, in a very MidWestern way of attempting to buck him up. “Waitin’ on ya hand and foot, till the Wichesters get back or yer well enough to drive yerself home. Not a bad set-up, huh?”

No, it was not, Crowley had to admit to himself. He did not particularly enjoy feeling under the weather – it was certainly not something he had missed from his human years – but there were certainly worst people in whose care Crowley might have found himself. And he very much liked the sound of an afternoon or two of nothing but tea, biscuits, and telly.

“As it seems I have no choice,” he griped.

“Good!” Donna slapped him on the arm again, approvingly. “Whatcha wanna watch?”

Crowley considered it. A small smile curled up from out of his beard, and he gave the hunter a sly, teasing look.

“How about…How To Build A Sex Room?”

“Oh! I been wanting to watch that for ages!” Donna clapped her hands, practically beaming.

If there was anyone that Crowley could enjoy that ridiculously frivolous show with, it would be her. Or maybe Dean. The hunter could sometimes be really good to watch reality tv with, especially when it involved relationships, drama, and interior decorating. He’d once threatened to kill Crowley if the demon ever suggested such a thing to anyone, and it had been a memorable moment – the first time Dean Winchester had threatened to kill him, and they had both known it was a complete bluff.

“There’s just one thing we have to do first.” She reached for the vial on the tray.

“If that’s what I think it is,” Crowley said as sternly as he could muster, “then you can just forget about it. I’m not taking any cough syrup or bloody get-well spell, or whatever the hell that might be!”

“Oh,” Donna smiled, and it was feral in its brightness. “But’cha are.”

“Nooo,” Crowley made a surreptitious attempt to escape by sinking into and transporting himself through the pillows, “I’m bloody well not.”

But there was no escaping the good intentions of Donna Hanscum, and Crowley knew it. Even as he screwed shut his mouth and glared with all his demonic worth – which, apparently, wasn’t very much – the spoon drew nearer and nearer. The thick, green, almost gelatinous liquid threatened to spill over the side. It smelled horrid.

Being sick truly was an unpleasant experience, Crowley decided.

“Now,” Donna said cheerfully, “open wide!”

A bit under the weather myself with a slight head cold, which reminded me of this little ficlet I wrote and never posted. Set in the One of the Boys universe, where Crowley closed the Gates of Hell and permanently joined the boys.

#crowley #crowley deserved better #spn ficlet #spn #one of the boys #my fic

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nicsnort · 5 months ago

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Trial by Fire (part 53)

A Nightcrawler/Fem!OC romance, drama, and mystery fanfic, with lots of Quicksilver thrown in for fun and even more drama.

Intro (with link to full Ao3 story) First Previous

Warren was let in by more accident than intent. Students darted out of the mansion while shouting at one another, something about ‘how could you tell him I like him’ or the like. Warren chuckled as he entered, shutting the door behind him as the students couldn’t be bothered with it. Ah, to be young once again. He looked up and caught the wisps of smoke around a familiar blue mutant.

“Kurt,” he greeted with a smile. And when he looked next to him, he spotted the woman with red curls, freckles, and glasses. She looked like she could blend in with a crowd, or at least a crowd in New York where there were so many unique folks, but he knew all too well who she was and why she was unique. “And this,” he said as he walked over, walking with a confidence and grace that came from years of faking it, “must be the great Bedelia Hayes.”

He was charming, certainly, and his eyes were bright with friendliness and warmth. He held his hand out to shake. “I could tell...mostly from the outfit.” The ‘X’ on the clothes always gave away who was a guest and who wasn’t. “And from a description or two.”

Bedelia shook his hand firmly, a large smile coming to her face as well. “I am indeed. I must say, Mr. Worthington, this does explain why the Guardian was one of the few pro-mutant paper’s out there.”

The softest hint of a modest blush went over Warren’s face. He gave a soft chuckle as if caught. “Yes...yes, well, given everything, I should hope you keep this under wraps. But even without my powers, I should like to think my newspaper would still be pro-mutant.”

She was here with the X-men; she had been with the Brotherhood...there was no reason to think she’d let anything slip. “My compliments, you have written several impressive articles before Eugene managed to,” capture seemed to be in poor taste, “ persuade you to join our paper. Your recent articles are without compare. I’m glad to have them for The Guardian.”

At his compliment on her work, a slight blush entered Bedelia’s cheeks. “You have them for three years at the very least,” she joked. “But thank you. It is nice to have some recognition for my less bombastic articles.”

Kurt offered, “Would you like me to get the Professor?”

Warren shook his head, placing his hand at his side. “No, no, not yet. I actually just wanted to meet the daring, fearless journalist in person...and ensure that she was being treated like royalty while she visited here.”

“Like a Queen,” Kurt confirmed, his eyes lingering on Bedelia just for a moment longer than one might. Warren caught notice but said nothing.

“Everyone here has been very kind and helpful, Kurt especially. I only hope I won’t be putting anyone out too much since I don’t know how long I will be here, given the Brotherhood and all...I actually, just got off the phone with Eugene. I don’t suppose he informed you I was in danger, and you informed the X-men? I was wondering how they turned up outside my home.”

The very idea that Bedelia would be an inconvenience in such a large building was something that both men found amusing. Warren’s smile flashed some teeth. “Ever a sharp mind to deduce that...yes, Eugene reached out to me and shared his concerns. It seemed your message to him worked. I thought that any human who reported on the Brotherhood would likely be in some sort of danger -- no offense, of course. All the same, I am pleased to meet you in person at last. I’m glad you’re doing well, you’re in safe hands with Kurt.” He didn’t miss the shy sort of grin Kurt had and the way his tail unconsciously hovered near the woman.

“None taken, it was a delicate situation. I am aware that I am lucky to be alive.” At his mention of being in Kurt’s hands, Bedelia looked at Kurt with a playful secretive smile. She was indeed safe in his hands, and his arms...and his tail. Her cheeks went a bit red at the memory as she returned her attention to Angel.

Warren nodded, listening intently. He didn’t miss the look she gave Kurt. What was this? He would ask a student in passing -- students typically had all the gossip, as he learned from his previous visits. He tried not to react to it, though, lest it make the relationship between the two awkward or otherwise. But all in all good for Kurt, he thought.

“Will you be expanding your articles to review the X-men?”

“It would be my pleasure, though I will have to work out any conflicts of interest,” her gaze went to Kurt again briefly, “and of course, I don’t want to bring any unwanted attention to the students here. My plan with the Brotherhood was to publish more of the interviews that I did with the rescued Genoshans; I don't see that changing. But afterward, I think a break from the Brotherhood would be good. I don’t want people thinking that I am sympathetic to their methods.”

“I’m pleased to hear this -- both as a mutant and the owner of the paper.” He added with a hint of jest. “If there’s anything I could do for you to assist in your writing, please let me know.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out one of the many business cards he had on him at all times. “My personal phone number if you can’t reach me through the X-men.” He looked over at Kurt. “I trust the Professor is in his office?”

Kurt shook his head. “No, I believe he’s downstairs.” He would let Warren find out the rest himself. He looked over at Bedelia and smiled. She was, in a sense, part of the group now if only in knowledge. Knowledge was power, after all, and how true that was.

Bedelia took his card with a smile. She half wanted to joke that she could use a million dollars, but it would be too unprofessional...and not that funny. “Thank you, I will keep that in mind.” Tucking the business card in her pocket Bedelia gave him a nod.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Worthington,” Bedelia told him with a nod as he went to speak with Xavier. When he left, she turned to Kurt. “More strange turnings of fate, it seems,” she commented with a grin.

Her hand took his and she leaned against him just a hint. “And as I said, I don’t want to put you out. You’ve been spending a lot of time with me, which has been very nice, but if there is anything you need to do, please feel free.”

It took Kurt a moment longer to answer than it would have had her hand not taken his and offered a brief distraction. He was delighted, elated, with the touch and familiarity. When he focused on her words again, the blue mutant shook his head. “You are not putting me out. I enjoy spending time with you. I do not need to do much -- Scott will likely want to debrief and discuss how the latest mission could have gone better, and Logan will want to train, but they will call us when the time is right. Everyone is decompressing and preparing...Though if you grow bored of me,” he smiled to show he was joking, taking the edge off of his words, “I think Rogue might have a collection of romance novels you could read.”

“I will consider it...though I have to say I was hoping that you were going to say that you had a daily workout routine and I was free to watch you if I wanted.” Bedelia’s other hand squeezed his upper arm. She could feel the lean muscle there and had felt it in his arms last night. “Of course, if I were to join you, you’d be free to watch too. I am sure it would be more entertaining than watching me sleep.”

Heat flooded his face at her subtle and not-so-subtle hint about his physique and, more embarrassingly, the way he had been caught studying her sleeping form. He gave a shy grin but managed, to his credit, not to turn violet in his blush. “Heh...ah, ja, that. Well, we do have a small gym that we could go to. It is different from the Danger Room.” He thought it best that she wasn’t involved in that room, or even to observe him and his teammates. The name said it all, after all.

“Would you like to go now? I can always use a chance to...pump iron.” He had to pause just for that moment to recall what he had heard Scott call lifting weights one time. Bobby and Logan had snickered and smirked at him, but it seemed to be the phrase to use to suggest a sense of confidence.

Bedelia laughed at his words. Ah, yes, he totally pumped iron all the time. She wondered how many English idioms he actually understood. Yet, she truly did not mind the idea of exercising with him. She had been doing some light exercise with Quicksilver when she was held captive, but Bedelia truly needed to get back in the habit of training. Pyro should not have been able to get the better of her. She needed to be able to protect herself, even if for just a small amount of time against a mutant. Training was the only way to accomplish that.

Though she did wonder what this Danger Room was. Some sort of training room, obviously. Perhaps, one day, they’d let her see it. “That sounds like a great time,” she told Kurt once her giggling subsided. “Let’s go pump some iron then.”

~~~~~

Bedelia and Kurt had gone to the gym downstairs in the basement. The one that Kitty and Rogue had shown Bedelia after her shower before meeting Kurt in the kitchen. It was a well-equipped gym with plenty of weights, treadmills, a few gymnastic bars, and an area for hand-to-hand combat training. They warmed up on the treadmills with a light jog, each eyeing the other and trying to keep pace. Then they moved on to the weights. Bedelia spotted for Kurt while he ‘pumped iron’, and she began giggling uncontrollably as he began lifting a weight with his tail as well. When Kurt was done doing his bench presses, she used some of the machines herself.

After some time, though, the call of the training mat was too strong for Bedelia to ignore. Setting the leg press back into the neutral position, she went to Kurt. “Fight me,” she told him with a grin.

Kurt blinked, processing what she had said to him. “Uh...you are sure?” He wasn’t exactly denying her, but he was highly trained.

“It’ll be fun,” Bedelia told him, stepping onto the mat herself. She was glad that he was not complaining or denying her. Kurt trusted her decisions and her abilities. “Besides, I need some practice. If some jerkoff like Pyro can get the better of me…” Bedelia paused for a half moment forcing the memory from her mind. Shaking her head, she took her stance, powerful, strong, and grounded. “Let’s do this.”

He teleported onto the mat and got in position, his weight even between his stance. His tail moved slowly behind him. His gaze traveled over Bedelia, not entirely for pleasure, though he appreciated her form, but to review her stance. He would wait and let her make the first move. "Very well, Kobold, and for fairness, I will not use my powers."

Without warning, Bedelia threw her first punch aiming for Kurt’s chest. Neither was wearing padding, so they had to be careful about where they aimed. There was no hesitation as Kurt swiped his arm up and blocked her punch, sending her arm to the side. His tail reached up and wrapped tightly around her other forearm -- it wasn’t his powers that he used, technically. He grinned, a flash of his fangs showing, before he swiped his leg against hers, hoping to knock her off balance.

Kurt’s tail around her arm sent the briefest wave of memory of Pyro over her. But Bedelia knew Kurt wasn’t him. And it was his tail. It wasn’t enough to send her panicking. Returning Kurt’s smile, Bedelia felt the shift in his weight as he went to one leg. Bedelia responded in kind. Her hands grabbed his shoulder and right arm as she swept her leg to the side. Knocking his leg from under him. His leg still collided with hers, but she allowed the momentum of her movement and his to bring Kurt down onto his back. Bedelia had half gone down herself but quickly went back into position.

“I think it is starting to come back to me,” she told Kurt with a smirk.

Kurt let it play out and fell back, mindful not to use his powers though it was tempting. "Glad I could help, fraulein." He jumped back onto his feet and used the momentum forward to aim a punch at her shoulder.

Bedelia dodged out of the way of his arm, pulling his arm past her to try and get him off balance once again. He managed to keep his balance though, but now Bedelia was behind him. She made to strike his back, but his tail shot up, pulling the same trick on her. Kurt was more successful in knocking her off balance. Stumbling forward, Bedelia righted herself quickly but could not avoid Kurt’s next strike to her upper arm.

She grunted in pain but responded with an elbow to his chest. Kurt stepped back, rubbing the place she struck. “Thank you for taking me seriously,” she told him, rushing forward with a feint of a punch but planning on striking with a quick kick.

"You deserve nothing less." Kurt declared as he turned to face her. He managed to barely catch her foot at the kick, grinning. He pulled her forward, catching her off balance and making her back hit the mat. When she did, he smiled and released her foot. "Think we are even."

There was an ‘oof’ as Bedelia hit the mat, knocking the wind out of her. Rolling back up, she grinned at Kurt. “Even? But I’m here to win.”

With that, she rushed forward and grabbed his head. But instead of slamming it to her knee or anything of the like, she pressed a kiss against his lips. Bedelia felt him freeze in surprise. Grinning into the kiss, Bedelia used her close position to sweep his legs out from under him. Both toppled onto the mat with Bedelia on top. She pulled back from the kiss giggling uncontrollably.

And just like that, Kurt dissolved into laughter as well. His lips still tingled from her surprise, his tail having straightened out momentarily. His hands went naturally to her waist as she proclaimed dominance over him. In short, he looked happy.

____

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