#selfshipping fic

[jellyfishesandroses]

" unreconciled feelings " a yume ship fi'c !

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

Note: guys this fic takes place in unreconciled stars event but i haven't been playing then so this is gonna probably be not that accurate to said event but like I tried yk? And again feedback likes n reblogs are greatly appreciated 😭

Ok this fic includes: yumeship, angst, fluff, slightly yandere scara, extremely self indulgent, scara starts ranting to a dawg, miscommunication trope somewhat, scara being an asshole, lemme know what else i should add!

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Orange = past !

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Red = past but angsty !

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"i had one job, one, investigate the meteors, get information about it, strike down the traveller if the chance presents itself then leave. What is wrong with her??" Scaramouche complained to himself as he leaves liyue, it had only been a few minutes after he revealed the revalation of tevyat's fake sky and left,

he was merely recalling the events of what happened and upon rewinding his memory is where his line of thinking changed from the fake sky to something—no, someone else. He gritted his teeth, he wasn't supposed to get attached to absolutely anyone, it was her fault it happened, it was her fault on why he felt fuzzy when even just making eye contact with her, it was fabi's fault he's even ruminating on these things now.

"she's like a fricking bunny.. being all kind and sweet.." he mutters, kicking a rock into the clear Lake.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

"wait!"

Scaramouche looks back again to the mesmerizing voice which called him he assumes. Ready to plaster a gentle smile he looks back and makes eye contact with the person who called him, fabi. "I-ok i know you said you have uh work or something? Well you don't need to if you don't want to but well-"

fichl giggling pats her shoulder slightly whispering something along the lines of you can do it in her own fichl way making fabi only get a bit more flustered before she clears her throat. "If you want help researching the meteors, we can research it together!" She finally exclaims letting out a smile at him.

Scaramouche stills for a bit, thinking over the pros and cons. It is true he will benefit from more help in this, and it's not like anyone especially fabi here is suspicious of him, his pathetic little subordinates are practically useless anyways, and besides.. he has opportunity to continue his mission with fabi, like he would waste such an opportunity to spend more time with her-wait no, Focus on the mission's benefits he reminded himself.

Aether paimon and fichl look at him intently waiting for his answer when fabi suddenly perks up again.

"hmm, you make a good point fabi, I'll joi-"

"wait wait no i didn't mean just with me it's not what you think I meant travelling with the others like aether and fichl too you know I didn't mean it like alone in the uh you know way!!" Fabi suddenly reassures flailing her hands. Slightly awkward Silence occupies the conversation for a few seconds.

Aether stares at Fabi with a "are you serious?" Look while fichl is visibly trying not to slap her forehead. Scaramouches eyes widen before laughing softly again, it's strange, he shoulnt be endeared by her! "Hehe, alright, i didn't think anything bad, it is my pleasure to join you, then, let us start?"

He finally says after recovering from his few seconds of getting caught off gaurd, delivering eye contact with Fabi again, glad he didn't miss her eyes sparkling slightly hearing his approval. The group then began walking, as he walked with Fabi he wondered why a pang of dissapointment hit his chest when she corrected that they aren't investigating them alone.

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The rock skips elegantly along the lake before finally falling in. Scaramouche let's out a hmph before begrugedly sitting down pouting and reaching for more rocks, he then notices a particularly unique rock, shaped somewhat like a star, doesnt fabi, wait-

He groans. "OH COME ON-" Is tevyat trying to guilt trip him and make everything remind him of her?!

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

"wait u like collecting what now?"

Scaramouche asks a amused smile playing on his face, the traveller and his other friends were already long gone and it was just fabi and him walking around liyue specifically wangshu inn, he was simultaneously both listening to him and fabi's conversation carefully while also berating himself for not leaving earlier and still leisurely hanging out with the enemy like the mission isn't more important than getting to know someone he only knew for a day, asking her questions and looking forward to knowing information about her that is nowhere needed for the mission like her favourite drink or what kind of inazuman novel she liked the most and now about this.

yet he coud not stop almost like he didn't want to. "Pretty rocks! You know ones shaped like certain shapes like stars or bunnies for example or just really smooth looking ones, it sounds weird but it's fun for me." Fabi answers, compared to when fabi first asked him to join she was thankfully a lot less shy and more comfortable, as much as scara couldn't understand why he was even happy because of it, oh well, having the opposing side's walls lowered is a win he suppose. Collecting pretty rocks huh, how cute. "In a patronizing way of course." he assured to himself, but his smile already started curling upwards on its own.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

"i even had the audacity to give her a rock that resembled a star later to her on the walk to liyue! How dare she put such a selfish curse on me! Unless I was under a spell I would never attempt to search for 'pretty' looking rocks while walking with her!" He babbles red faced to a dog that had layed down next to him to sleep only to be face to face with his angry yet conflicted eyes and even more angry and conflicted words.

"are you even listening to me you lazy little-" he attempts to scold the dog when said dog suddenly looks at his pocket, scara also then directs his eyes to it before sighing, suddenly going oddly quiet, even the dog was caught off gaurd by it. A photo was reaching out of scaramouche's pocket, he gently took it out and looked at it for a few seconds before flipping it over for the dog to see, a more solemn and guilty look on his face now.

it was a picture of him and fabi eating food at a local stall in liyue, the short haired girl who had put a "curse" on him had took the picture for something along the lines of "to remember such a enjoyable memory." He scoffs at it, it's not like he was taking her to a five star restaurant or something even if he wanted to one day, they were just eating food from a normal local stall with cheap enough food. Why would it be-oh right, when he asked her that he remembered what she said:

"it might sound weird, but anything i do with you is enjoyable enough.." scaramouche repeated her words softly, his eyes darkening.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

"hahaha, you are so naive it kills me!"

caramouche says between laughs, trying to ignore the muffled feeling of something unpleasant seeing fabi's face, it was his first time seeing her so distraught and in betrayal, she didn't even look that sad when she dropped her ice popsicle the night scaramouche escorted fabi back to her house after eating at a local stall nor did she look like that when she was ranting about her favourite novel's atrocious ending to him when they resting in a garden of flowers they found when spending time with eachother researching about the meteors.

This look was much more intense, much more heightened in emotions, he hated it.

"i would say your almost as naive as fabi, it's funny!" Scaramouche barked out delibarately not breaking eye contact with fabi. Fabi's lips quiver. He hates that too. "So all that was a lie? What we did too, did you always had a facade? No your lying right? Your-" she tries to plead her voice shaking, even mona couldn't help but internally feel sorry for her, but she can't let a fatui harbinger unquestioned.

"oh please, stop it with the dramatics, do you not get it? Those times of idle waste is not even near as important or..or as terrifying as what I have just discovered."

Scaramouche interrupted quickly. He should probably do more experiments with dottore soon to make his body more fit to that of a gods, foolish emotions, technically he's right so why is his brain screaming no? Fabi remained quiet after, still distraught but quiet as she only listened in the rest of the conversation, the Information about the sky being fake, some mocking jabs thrown at her only she could understand, everything.

The stars, the sky... It's all a gigantic hoax, a lie, like everything else she had thought was real with scaramouche. She would have laughed at the similarity if the need to cry was less unbearable.

"time for me to go out and find the truth, so long suckers..and one other gullible one."

Scaramouche finally exclaims proudly, deliberately smiling at fabi mockingly before moving off, glad that when her head moved away she couldn't see how much scaramouche struggled completely disappearing out of sight, it's only just in case of a sneak attack he kept looking back at fabi till she can't be seen, each look making his legs feel hesitant to keep walking. Pff, she isn't stupid, sooner or later she will understand his bluff and run right back to him, what was with her melodrama anyways? If she had eyes surely she would know how less he actually meant it, she's probably chasing him right now, she isn't gullible, right?

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

..the paper crumbles slightly in his hand as scaramouche's 'breathing' becomes slightly heavier. "..like hell she actually knew. She thinks I betrayed her didn't she..? Just like my creator-" scaramouche huffs out before harshly putting the photo back in his pocket. He didn't even realise the dog ran away when it saw scaramouche's eyes turn more frantic. What has he done? He should have known just from the pitiful and absolutely painful expression on her usually peaceful face, oh how he hates it even more.

He starts walking again, fast walking now as his mind filled with a flurry of emotions but most of all how to see her, isn't it true its best to give people time and space after an arguement? That's it, it's just another argument, every and any good bonds have an argument before making up, that's it, this is just that! This will be fixed easily once he gets a good plan.

Like he noted, best to give people time and space, so he won't barge back into mondstadt immediately, he doesn't wanna see such a pained face again ever anyways. But he can't just leave her alone, how is he different from his three betrayals if he did that? Scaramouche gagged inwardly at the thought.

"wait..that traveller and pixie is always travelling with her most of the time like a leech, even the rumours say so, aren't those two planning to head to Inazuma..?" Scaramouche asks to no one. He already knows the answer. That's it. He's found a solution for now.

He glances over to the photo stuffed clumsily in his pocket.

"..I'll resolve this, no matter what."

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Scaramouche has already gotten used to the putrid smell of the delusion factory, nothing there is really disturbing him unlike his head. He grips the photo of him and fabi's tighter, it's wrinkles proving this wasn't The first time it was held so tightly and if you look closely you might even find dry teardrops on it. The rumours better be true, if it isnt he might just have to cut off the tongue of whichever of his fatui subordinates gave him the intel. He promised to himself he isn't and won't be pathetic as his mother was and he's willing to keep that promise. He soon hears two footsteps, he can recognise the second footsteps from anywhere, his head quickly whisks to where it's coming from,

He hears voices, the traveller and paimon's voices he really werent something he cared until he heard the voice he actually cared about.

He will resolve this, no matter what.

He makes his way out the shadows.

"you actually managed to find this place. Congratulations, i was waiting for you."

That was not directed at the traveller or paimon.

next part !

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

[nyandereneko]

Don't Be Late

Word Count: 1,516 Summary: “She followed whatever direction the wind blew the snow as it rained down in a glittering display, almost like delicate flecks of stardust.” Author’s Note: Another winter themed fic to celebrate the last month of the year, this one featuring my other Genshin husband! Well, technically I have 3, but one of them belongs to a clone of my self insert and the story starts to get a little convoluted...but not in this fic! Instead, I decided to write up a little reaction for this duo to the first snow of the season, with a little reference to Nova’s cabaret work and how she tends to spend her days alongside her loves before she heads to her club in the evenings. While they both work in the respective capitals of their nations, the trio all resides in a custom Adeptal abode together that has teleportation connections to various points of interest they need to visit, such as the court, the harbor, and even their new shared home village in Qiaoying. I just wanted to give a little trivia because I think it’s neat, but none of that really has anything to do with the fic, which was just an excuse for Nova to flirt with Neuvillette and vice versa because I love them lol. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

*****

Soft beams of moonlight streamed in through the elegant bronze and sea-colored windows that decorated the walls of the esteemed Iudex’s office. Their plush drapes were drawn back by thick gilded cords to usher in a complementary glow to the gently flickering candles and buzzing electric lights that dotted the interior of the building itself. It was a symphony the official had grown somewhat fond of, or perhaps merely accustomed to, although the pleasantly rhythmic ticking of the grand clock that stood proudly among his many shelves pulled the performance of his various office fixtures together splendidly.

If one had been paying attention, they may have taken notice of the subtle way in which the light from beyond the panes that guarded the office from the encroaching chill outside was slowly snuffed out by a rolling band of white that threatened to bring a different kind of nighttime spectacle to the skies above the unique sea themed nation.

Neuvillette’s sharp gaze was focused intently on the crowded desk before him as he sorted through the documents, ledgers, and assorted paperwork piled up all around him in organized stacks, as was customary for the day to day routine of the experienced Fontainian bureaucrat. When he wasn’t reviewing case files, signing paperwork, and managing the business taking place within the esteemed halls of the Palais Mermonia, he could be found presiding over trials and observing various shows at the Opera Epiclese. It was a busy schedule to be sure, especially now that the illustrious Archon he’d once relied on had embraced a very different kind of role and life. But despite her distance and preoccupation with reinventing herself, his various duties weren’t a burden the Iudex always had to tackle alone. This evening presented a fine example as his patient partner paced around his office in idle amusement, biding her time as her husband finished up sorting and signing the most urgent of the files he’d processed over the course of the afternoon.

It was a bit daunting to think that there were more documents introduced and cataloged and authorized each day, alongside the harrowing reality that there were practically always more left over than he started with, no matter how much overtime the dutiful Iudex worked. The nature of such a critical and demanding job was that it was simply never done. He ran a gloved hand over his forehead and through his styled bangs, absently adjusting the vibrant blue and gold clip that held said styled portion of his flowing white hair in place. Situated just over one of his subtly pointed ears, Neuvillette truly appreciated the times when he could wear his less common, more draconic traits on full display now that both he and those nearest and dearest to him understood the full nature of his role and existence in this land. It was a vulnerability he preferred to indulge within the comfort and privacy of the expansive Adeptal estate he enjoyed with his newly established family.

It was the very place he’d be meeting with them after they all finished up their duties for the day, if he ever managed to drag himself away from the endless cycle of civil and judicial management he seemed to find himself repeatedly and helplessly trapped in.

“I have a surprise for you,” a delicate voice caressed the back of the distracted man’s ear, the weight that belonged to its owner sliding over his shoulder just as he’d finished a signature, drawing him promptly away from his dizzying spiral. His unprepared heart skipped a beat or two as he attempted to turn in his desk chair and face her. Instead, she adjusted her position and gripped the ruffled cuffs of his well tailored sleeves, keeping him pinned against the chair arms as her lips brushed the edges of his skin that only grew rosier with every word and breath that slipped through them. “If you think you can pull yourself away from all this paperwork for a moment or two...or maybe more. I think you’ll be decently impressed with what I have to show you.”

Neuvillette swallowed, the heat that seared his pointed ears and swirling head bleeding down into his cheeks and neck, making his veins tingle and his muscles tense as her teasing burned through him. Nova wasn’t usually so straightforward when it came to things of this nature, but it wasn’t as if this was the first or only time she’d ever surprised him in such a manner, either. Knuckles white under the disguising fabric of his deep blue gloves as his trembling grip threatened to snap the chair beneath him to splinters, the unsettled man steeled his nerves to the best of his ability and followed the guiding touch and murmur of the woman who’d been waiting so patiently, too patiently, for him to find a suitable stopping point for today’s shift.

Even more to the Iudex’s surprise, however, was that the interruption really hadn’t been an idea of the whimsical feline’s own design. On the contrary, as soon as he turned to observe Nova’s offering it became abundantly clear that she was just as awed and caught off guard by the display she’d discovered as he was. Their shared wonder was an unexpected result of the shower of fluffy flakes that descended from the heavens like tiny puffs of cloud, and perhaps not all that far off in their similarities. The first snow of the season had arrived to dominate the scenery of the Court of Fontaine and its self-contained streets that curled in on one another like swirling currents, presenting a pristine backdrop for the crystalline invasion to take hold as it began to encase the capital’s various structures in a snowy wonderland, as fleeting as the appearance of such weather proved to be year after year.

“It’s snowing!” Nova exclaimed, furry ears flicking in delight as she gestured towards the wintry scene putting on a show with flakes that danced across the windowsills and tapped a melody against the glass. It was a bit tricky to balance with her tail likewise flailing in excitement as she bounced on the tips of her toes between the fine floor tiles and the blue patterned carpet that ran through the very center of the room. She followed whatever direction the wind blew the snow as it rained down in a glittering display, almost like delicate flecks of stardust. “C’mon, grab your coat so we can get going! I want to get to the cabaret before the front gets snowed in. I have to open soon, anyway. And we promised to meet Zhongli there for dinner, remember? We both know you don’t want to be late.”

Even as she rambled on the exuberant feline helped her partner prepare for their departure by grabbing his coat and scarf and assorted other accessories as she went. They were stowed away in their proper places as per usual, and she went through the same routine they often shared of gathering all the essentials and helping catch the blind spots for one another. She had a tendency to be forgetful, and her loves had a proclivity for being somewhat overbearing, so they met somewhere in the middle by keeping track of the essentials for each other. It was a partnership they’d all come to rely on in their own ways, and that they all knew they were sure to never run out of gratitude for, just by the very nature of how lucky they were to have ended up crossing paths in the first place.

“Alright, alright, I suppose the rest can wait until tomorrow,” Neuvillette acquiesced as he finally rose from his seat, adjusting the various accessories she’d collected for him and ever so kindly bestowed upon his person as he did so. The state of his desk had also been somewhat cleaned off in the meantime, with the most urgent items set aside to be dealt with when he arrived first thing in the morning. “We wouldn’t want to have to call someone to dig out the entrance again, now would we?”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” his wife remarked with a tired sigh as she slipped an arm through his, her tail naturally coiling around one of his legs as they made their way towards the building’s exit. Before they made it to the office door, she made sure to pause and pull the man back, stealing a short but sweet and direct kiss from him that only made him erupt in another swell of suffocating blush. “Let’s just focus on enjoying the scenery on the way. Maybe we can even stop at the cafe and grab a tea or something before we head in.”

“As long as it’s with you, I don’t care what we do,” he responded with an earnest smile, stealing another kiss in retaliation that left her more breathless than she expected before he resumed leading her through the remainder of the Palais Mermonia’s grand corridors. “Though you’re right, I’d prefer not to be late for our engagement.”

[yuzuibas]

Midnight Stroll (Fic)

Summary: Michael takes Hira out for a midnight stroll.

Warnings: Canon-typical mentions of torture (but no further details or anything). Tone is otherwise mostly light-hearted. Set some time during the one-month time skip between 2x05 ("The Trolley Problem") and before 2x06 ("Janet and Michael") so mild spoilers for the context behind that setting

Words: 1,661

Google Docs version (comments allowed) // Reblogs/comments appreciated!

Michael finds himself in front of Hira’s apartment. Ever since he’s started running the neighborhood, night has been the time of day he learns to appreciate the most. It’s the only time he feels he can truly be himself, away from prying eyes… the humans would be asleep, and the demons would be mingling away in their own private spaces—where they’ve barely invited him to to begin with, but even less the more the reboots got out of hand. Not that it matters much to him any more, though, and only some of that holds true now. Because he’s started attending Chidi’s ethics lessons, he’s starting to feel like he could let down his guard around the humans—Team Cockroach is what Eleanor had christened their little band of misfits as—even though he still hasn’t fully realized it yet. Still, sometimes he needs some alone time, so nighttime to himself is good. But it seems like he’s getting used to having company with him, so his feet have absentmindedly taken him to where he is right now.

He could see that their bedroom light on the second story is still on. He doesn’t hesitate much as he climbs the staircase that vertically snakes along the side of the building, since he knows none of the other demons would want to actually stay that close to a human if they weren’t doing some torturing.

He knocks on Hira’s door. He hears what sounds like something falling over on the floor, and he raises his eyebrows. A distant voice calls out, telling him to wait. After a few minutes pass by, Hira finally answers the door, looking a bit frazzled in their pajamas as they try to greet him with a smile. “Michael! Hi. Um. Is…everything okay?”

“Sorry, I thought you were still awake. Do you wanna go for a walk?”

They blink at Michael. “A…you want to go–right now?”

“Yeah,” he answers nonchalantly. “No early ethics classes tomorrow, so it’s okay to stay up late.”

They stare at him for several seconds before nodding fervently–maybe too much. “Yeah…yeah! Okay! Um…let me just turn off my lights.”

===

“So,” Hira says as they walk alongside Michael, admiring their surroundings, “you’ve told us the gist about how the neighborhood works, but not much beyond that—and some of that might be just bullshirt you were trying to sell to us anyway.”

“You have to be specific. Not everything I said was a lie.” They give Michael a playfully accusatory look. “Ok. Most of what I said was a lie. But some of it is true.”

“I know that. Which is why I wanna ask…you designed the whole neighborhood, right? Can you–are you allowed to tell me about some of it?”

Michael gets taken aback slightly by the genuine interest he could hear in their voice. “Sure! Ask about whatever.”

Hira asks and continues to ask Michael about the neighborhood as they walk, and also a little about himself: how he got to be an architect, how he got to designing the current version of the neighborhood (which is largely based on the original version) and about other versions, how deliberate all of his choices were and why he picked out what he did… he doesn’t tell them everything, but he tells them enough to keep them intrigued. He could feel a sense of pride well up in his chest…he never really gets to tell anyone about how much thought he'd put into the neighborhood—not that he could find anyone who would give enough crap to listen, anyway. So it's nice to have someone sound so curious and…excited, even. Even if they are asking about how he designed their previously perfectly unsuspecting torture chamber.

Michael pauses his steps as he feels a shudder across his fake skin, something he's never really quite felt before he started attending Chidi's classes.

Hira lets out a sneeze, distracting him from what he’d just felt. He finds it momentarily fascinating how small and dainty they can make their sneezes sound like, when he knows they're just as capable of sounding like the horn of a ten-wheeler truck.

"Sorry," they say, with an audibly congested voice, their eyes a bit watery. "I have this all the time. Darn, I didn’t bring a jacket or a towel…thought I won’t need it.”

"It's a bit gross, but don't worry about it." Michael says before realizing he probably shouldn't have tacked on the first part of his sentence if he wanted to sound genuinely comforting. How to remedy this... Ah! Promptly, he reaches into the breast pocket of his coat and offers them his handkerchief.

Hira stares at his outstretched hand, contemplating. "Are you sure?" they ask, almost cautiously. "This is like...one of those hankies you're not supposed to use, right? Just for display to go with an outfit and all."

"Take it. I have plenty." He says, nudging them by pushing his hand closer.

They take it, their fingertips momentarily brushing against his. “Thanks Michael. Um…I’ll wash it for you and return it.”

"No need. Just keep it." He smiles.

They let out another thank you before sneezing into the handkerchief. Michael does all he can to avoid flinching, but he does take a few (hopefully unnoticeable) steps back. They groan in between the sniffling. "It's a bit chilly tonight. I should've brought a cap or something..."

"I thought you like chilly nights?" That's why he had made tonight this atmosphere.

"Yeah, but my nose is weird. Sometimes all it takes is a slight breeze..." They make a gesture with their hand, sweeping it across to imitate the wind. "Y'know, it's funny. You could've used this to torture me."

"Well, that would be physical torture," he says, reflexively straightening out the edges of his coat, swallowing the small bit of wounded pride in his voice. "That would be easy, but it wouldn't be smart."

“Like Eleanor’s furniture isn’t torture.”

“That was just a little discomfort to embellish the whole thing.”

Hira giggles, lightly nudging his arm with their shoulder. “Okay, I mean it sucks but it’s a little funny at least. But I know you're smart because you put so much thought into this neighborhood. You don’t have to tell me.”

Something small tugs the corners of Michael’s lips upwards. He slightly leans down sideways to get closer to them. "You know, if you want, I could literally change the weather with a wave of my hand." He says in a low voice, with a twinkle like a child whispering to an accomplice. It's not like he hadn’t made a few subtle changes to the neighborhood here and there for the benefit of his newfound…comrades, and it’s also not like they hadn’t seen him demonstrate a little magic before, but this feels like a new opportunity.

He has all the power in the universe and he's doing what right now, exactly? Trying to impress some measly weak little human? A voice in the back of his head snidely hisses at him. He rolls his eyes at it internally. No, that's not how he should think any more. Remember what Chidi says. He’s not just bringing it up to impress, anyway.

“T’s okay,” Hira responds, trying to fold up the handkerchief neatly as they walk. “I’ll be fine. Plus, I wouldn't wanna ask you to go all willy-nilly on the weather without asking the others how they feel about it first.”

He just nods in return. Of course... But what else could he do to help them at this moment? He thinks to himself, putting his hands in his coat pockets.

Oh, right! He has a coat. He starts unbuttoning it.

Hira notices what he’s doing and stops, a bit confused and surprised. “Uh…banasin ka pala?”

"No, I don't get hot. Or cold. Temperatures don't bother me because this is just my human suit." Well, that was the deal. Afterlife human skin suits are designed to only imitate some human bodily functions but not actually have them; he's not supposed to actually feel anything. Yet somehow, Michael feels like attesting to this claim.

Hira silently watches him as he takes his arms out of the sleeves, successfully leaving him in just his french cuff shirt. He places the coat on their shoulders. "There. You need it more than I do."

They, stunned for a moment, can only manage to sputter. "I–uh–wait, don't let go of it yet, I'm gonna adjust it so it won't fall..." their voice cracks and trails off toward the end as they try to busy themself with balancing the coat, ignoring how this makes their hands accidentally brush up against his (again), or how they can feel Michael’s arm in the space behind them, or how this is probably the first time they’ve seen him not wearing layers…

Michael's shoulders are wider than theirs, but somehow, the coat fits snugly. Instantly they feel much warmer, though it's probably not only the fabric material's doing. They're worried the warmth would make its way to their cheeks, so they drop their eyes towards the floor. "Th–Thank you..." they say, letting out the breath they didn’t even realize they were holding.

"Don't mention it." He pats them on the arm before letting the coat go.

They finally look up at his face just in time to see him smile, one of the most genuine ones they've seen on him by far. They can’t help but smile back. “Hey, y’know, I don't think I've seen you in anything else other than these suits. This is perfect for a chilly night like this but–I can't imagine you having to stay in it all the time. When it's just us—Team Cockroach—" (they do a little fist pump) "—you know you could loosen up a bit more, ok?"

Michael is taken aback by this. He hasn't really considered it before. "I'll... keep that in mind. Thank you, Hira.”

They hold onto the coat for the rest of their midnight stroll together, until he walks them back and they arrive home.

A/N: should've let them keep the coat too

there's like one line of dialogue in filipino bc it doesn't feel right when i try to write it in english pbfbtbt

brought back my old format for fics and i'm thinking of bringing back my tag lists for them too :} let me know if you'd like to be in it!

[flatstarcarcosa]

love in a minor key

ship: masks&menace warnings: discussions of trauma, mild jokes about drug use, summary: what do you do when the ghosts you brought into the world are sticking around to haunt you? if you’re norman, you don’t do anything. at least, not until a nightmare rattles you so much you get woken up and come out swinging. note: briefly mentions some long standing headcanons i have about norman during dark reign that i did, at one point, try to pry out of him for here but it’s just so cemented in how i write him i stopped trying, thanks <3

**********

Bob’s eyes go wide as he raises his gaze back to Norman, all blue eyes and blonde hair and picture-perfect hero. “Y...you’re sure?” he asks. “It’s really okay?”

Norman laughs, claps him casually on the shoulder as if the man is not both God and God-Killer. “Yes, it’s really okay,” he says. “Really. It’s okay because I say it is, and from this day on, Bob, what I say goes.”

“Thank you,” says Bob.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, because when you peel back the gold and turn off the lights he is but a man with an addiction, and Norman is but a dealer in a ten thousand dollar suit.

He puts an arm around the other man’s shoulders, steers him down the hall in the direction he wants them to go and it is the first time he aims his shiny new weapon, but not the last. Would, that it were, of course.

God. God-Killer. 

The scent of ash and metal and entrails burnt into his memory. The taste of it tainting his food and wine, forever.

“I didn’t know,” he will say later.

He didn’t know, he didn’t know, he didn’t know.

A lie, of course. He knew.

He knew it in his gut, in his marrow, but the burden of proof lies not with him and he knew it, too. Always deny, always have plausibility in the denial. The world is not about what is or isn’t; the world is about what you say it is or isn’t.

He knew that he was playing with things he couldn’t truly control, not forever, but it was his ego that insisted otherwise. The tale as old as time, isn’t it? Wax wings and hubris, a prelude to the inevitable descent into the dark. In his case the darkest and most forgotten hole they could find on The Raft, nothing around him but form and void and the unshakable reminder that he was as mortal as the rest of them, after all.

And the void, oh, the void. That’s where it all started, isn’t it? That’s where it began and, he realizes as he stares into the dark, that is where he will end.

The Void.

Immortal. God.

The voice comes from nowhere and everywhere and he stares straight ahead because like most monsters, it runs on a monsters logic, and as long as you don’t give them attention then it isn’t really there.

Right?

“It is, and it isn’t,” says the shadow. “Oh, Norman. Don’t look so surprised, you knew this was coming, didn’t you? You’re not stupid enough to think otherwise, not in earnest.”

He says nothing. He thinks back to what feels like yesterday, when he stood atop the world and bet he could piss off the side of it and convince everyone else it was rain. Untouchable, as he was, by the rest of the mortals he forgot that he too was still one of them.

Immortal.

Mortal.

“Don’t worry,” the room sighs. The darkness creeps in at the edge of his vision, a vise settling on his rib cage and giving a slow crank. “You said there is no Void, and so...there isn’t.”

The illusion of light winks out and the vise makes a rapid clicking noise, the slow squeeze turning into a sharp, bone-crushing pressure and as his blood pounds in his ears there is laughter among it.

It is his.

It is not.

And yet it is, because what else do you do? What else, when faced with nothing else? He knew, yes, he knew the Void would be where he ended because he knew the Void was not dead. The Void was not dead because you can’t kill-

You can-

-NOT KILL WHAT DOES NOT CHOOSE TO DIE, NORMAN-

His eyes snap open halfway through his name, and before Reese can get the second syllable formed he comes up fist first. They realize in the moment before impact that they, too, frequently reside in the same camp as others of forgetting just what the serum has done to him.

The reflexes. The strength. Well fuck- they think, knowing that even if they weren’t currently half tangled in a mess of bed sheets and pillows, they’d be too slow to avoid it.

Norman blinks and the world takes form, without void, and his senses reconnect to the rest of his brain. He finds himself not down in the dark and under the crushing weight of all he’s done, but in his bed in his softly lit bedroom.

The sense of taste follows sight, and with it the distinct flavor of blood coats his mouth. He purses his lips as he runs his tongue, gently, across his teeth and feels the edge on them that should not be. It explains the blood even as it makes his heart skip a beat.

How long was he down there in the dark? At the mercy of the monster? Long enough that the stress of it caused the serum in his blood to activate, picking up on elevated cortisol and adrenaline and beginning to alter his state of being in an attempt to save his life.

It’s not the serum’s fault that getting faster and stronger is not going to save him, not from this, anyway.

The sound of groaning filters in through his still too-distant mind, and he sucks in a breath. “Reese,” he hisses, scrambling over the side of the bed.

They’re sprawled on the floor, one leg propped up against the side of the mattress. They’re holding a hand over their face and blood trickles from between their fingers.

“Reese,” Norman says again. He untangles them from the sheet, letting their leg drop, and slips an arm around their shoulders to pull them into a sitting position. “Let me see.” He pulls their hand away from their face, watches fresh blood bloom from their nostrils, and grabs a fistful of sheet to press against it. They groan as he tilts their head back, his other hand braced against the nape of their neck.

Nightmares are not a new experience for him, but if they’re getting bad enough that he’s startling awake in such a manner, perhaps it should be addressed. Although what good a therapist and medication would do for this particular wrinkle in his mental health, he truly has no idea.

Yes hello, I have nightmares from the trauma of watching the God-Killer I manipulated quite literally rip my husband in half. Why did he do that? Well, because I told him too! Can I get some more Prozac or perhaps Hydroxyzine to help with it?

Reese mumbles something that pulls him out of his downward spiral, words muffled by the damage to their nose and the wad of material over their face.

“What?” he asks, pulling the sheet back.

“You good?” they ask.

Norman blinks. “I…” he stammers, “I should be asking you that.”

Reese levels their gaze at him as best they can with their head still tipped back, and gives a shrug of their shoulders.

“Can you stand?” he asks. They nod, and he has them take over holding the sheet to their face to help them to their feet.

The two of them cross into the bathroom and Norman hits the switch before picking Reese up to plop them on the counter top. Reese continues to hold the sheet to their face as Norman digs around the bathroom for the first aid kit. Producing it, he drops the sheet from their face and pops the lid open. He replaces the sheet with a couple of gauze pads, and gently prods around their nose with his fingers.

He has done far worse things with his hands throughout his life; been elbow deep in a living man’s chest cavity while scraping samples from his rib cage, to say nothing of havoc wreaked upon his own son, but it’s this broken nose that is giving birth to deeply rooted guilt.

“Let’s get the bleeding stopped and get dressed,” he says, “we’ll go into the ER.”

Reese grunts in annoyance, brows furrowing. “No,” they say.

“Don’t argue,” he says.

“Fuck sake, Norman,” they snap, words slurred around the injury. “you can set a broken fucking nose.”

He blinks.

“Well,” he stutters, “yes, but-”

“So do it.”

He wants to say no. Both out of guilt, and well, habit. He is still Norman Osborn, after all, and if he tells you you’re going to do something you do not get to say no. You do it.

You do it, or he’ll make you do it.

He has learned, or at least started to, that sometimes there is no forcing Reese to bend to his will. This isn’t the first time he’s relented just to make something easier, but it is the first time he’s done so without at least attempting to argue about it first.

Fifteen minutes later, their nose is set. Face cleaned up and bandaged, and Norman is dumping three hydrocodone into their hand. Reese doesn’t bother to ask where he got them, or what they were originally for.

They also don’t bother to mention that at 15mg they’d likely be perfectly fine with just one.

The pills leave a bitter, chalky aftertaste on their tongue that they haven’t tasted in a while, and they glance at the clock. It’s going to be interesting to see if their tolerance still exists.

Norman bundles the bloodied sheet into a ball and tosses it into the hamper before retrieving a fresh top sheet from the closet. Tilting their head, Reese notices from their perch in the armchair there’s still an abnormal pallor to his face.

“You good?” they ask again.

He looks over at them and appears to mean to force a smile and a dismissal. The expression vanishes, and he sits heavily on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know,” he says, running a hand down his face. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and reaching to massage his temples. “I honestly just...don’t know.”

“I kicked Tony in the throat, once,” says Reese casually, moving to sit next to him.

He looks over at them, raising his head and an eyebrow. Reese shrugs.

“It was back when I thought being black out drunk would fix everything,” they say.

Norman is silent for a moment. “Reese,” he says, “you still think that, you just don’t do it anymore.”

“Not the point?” they respond, before continuing. “I don’t know what I was dreaming about, but I was laid out on the couch and when he woke me up I wasn’t entirely with it. Reflexively kicked my leg and caught him right in the trachea.”

“Eh,” says Norman, “he’s had far worse, I’m sure anything that doesn’t require a full body cast isn’t something he remembers.”

“The man barely remembers anything, to be fair,” says Reese.

“That’s true,” agrees Norman.

“And also,” says Reese, making a show of stretching and laying back on the bed. “You’re deflecting from the question.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I answered the question when I said ‘I don’t know’,” he shoots back.

“Yes, but also, no,” says Reese. “You know something, even if you don’t know that it’s relevant. You never don’t know entirely.”

“It’s just some bad dreams,” he says.

“Bad dreams are what you get when you take melatonin,” says Reese, “dreams that make you come out swinging are a little more than just dreams.”

He turns to look at them over his shoulder. “Melatonin does that to you, too?” he asks. “I always thought it was just me.”

“Deflecting,” sing-songs Reese, holding up a finger and wagging it at him.

“It’s Asgard,” he says finally, as if that’s all the explanation needed.

“Like…” Reese trails off. “Sorry, have they done something I missed?”

“My invasion of it,” he says. “Or, attempted invasion, I suppose. Failed invasion, more accurately.”

“Oh, right,” says Reese. “All I know about it is that it was a mess, apparently.”

“That’s a word for it,” he says, leaning back to lay next to them. “Treason is another.”

“Weren’t you trying to like, accuse them of treason, though?” they ask.

“Indeed I was,” he says. “I may not have been… fully in my right mind, at the time.”

“I mean are you ever?” they ask. He turns to glower at them. Reese shrugs. “In the sense that, are any of us? Really?”

“Now who’s trying to deflect?” he asks.

“So, you’re having nightmares about Asgard,” says Reese. “Why?”

Norman says nothing, staring up at the slowly rotating ceiling fan as the smell of burnt stone and ash creeps back into his senses. He can still hear Ares bellowing from across the battlefield.

“I told you what would happen! Armor and all!”

In the present he asks, “do you know what it takes to murder someone?”

Biting down another joke, or an obvious answer, Reese instead says nothing and waits for him to continue.

“Sometimes, all it takes is two words,” he continues.

“Bob. Go.”

Unsure of how to follow that, Reese remains silent on the chance he’s going to elaborate more.

He doesn’t.

They roll over, propping themself up with one arm. Norman’s still on his back, staring up at the fan with a distant look in his eyes. Wherever he is at the moment, it’s not here.

They open their mouth to speak, blinking as they do and in the same second the first traces of the painkillers slip into their head. A tingling around their temples as the pain input that never seems to leave their head and neck, made worse by getting socked in the face by a startled and over-powered goblin, begins to melt away and loosen the muscles as it goes.

They settle for flopping down closer to him, resting against his shoulder and laying an arm over him. He lets out a soft hum, mirroring their motion as he wraps an arm around their waist.

“You can tell me, you know,” they say, their own voice beginning to sound distant to their ears. “Or don’t, if you don’t wanna.”

“You know…” he says, “I know that logically you’re probably… the only person in a very long time that doesn’t judge me based on things that happened so long ago. But sometimes I think your choice to not form an opinion of me based on what others have written is going to eventually bite us both in the ass. Like one day I’m going to mention something that you’re not aware of, and it’s going to flip everything on end and I won’t be able to do anything to stop it.”

“Well,” says Reese. After a few moments, they haven’t followed it up with anything.

Norman finally looks at them. “Well…?” he prompts.

“I was getting to it,” they say, “eventually. I think.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and reaches over to cup their chin with his other hand, lifting their head a little. “Are you high?”

“Not as much as I’d like, but I’m sure it’s getting there,” they say matter-of-factly.

“I only gave you three painkillers,” he says, voice colored with mild amusement. “At five milligrams you shouldn’t be remotely high. Losing your edge now that you spend most of your time responsibly?”

“They were fif-teeens,” Reese drawls.

“...no they weren’t,” Norman says.

“Fives are round, fifteens are oval,” says Reese. “You gave me the oval ones.”

“Oh, god damn it,” says Norman, “I have got to start reading the fucking labels on the bottles.”

“No, no, don’t start on my account,” they say. “As long as I fall back asleep before the itching starts, we’re Gucci.”

“I catch you trying to get into the lab morphine again because of this, we’re going to have a serious talk,” says Norman.

“I think we should be having some serious talks regardless,” they say, managing to be and sound serious in spite of the high steadily peaking.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “probably.”

By the time he finishes mulling things over and feels like his thoughts are in an order that could be understood, he discovers Reese is sound asleep against him.

“Of course, maybe not tonight,” he says. He extricates himself from them and turns the lights out, retreating back to the bed with the TV remote and settling against the pillows. He flips through several channels before finding something that at least holds a small amount of his interest, and before the first commercial break Reese manages to retake their previous position against him without waking. The talks will come later, he’s sure. For now, there’s only one thing in the dark he’s concerned about, and at least this time, it isn’t a God-Killer.

**********

The talks don’t come the next day.

Or the day after.

It is only on the third day, when Reese corners him in the living room by pointing out they’re aware of the fact he simply hasn’t slept since punching them that he concedes defeat about it. He sinks into an easy chair with a glass of scotch, and bides precious more time out of regarding the fire burning in the fireplace for several minutes. Reese fills the time by pulling a frosted glass out of the mini fridge under the bar and dropping a couple ice cubes into it before drowning them in Jameson.

They plant themself in the chair next to him, crossing their legs under them and eyeing him over the rim of their glass.

“It doesn’t have to be everything,” they say.

“I know,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “But, I just… I keep thinking that you don’t get to be… traumatized over a situation you created. Like it’s some previously undiscovered level of selfishness that only I would be the one to trip into.”

“Norman Osborn being self centered and mildly narcissistic isn’t a new situation,” says Reese mildly. There isn’t, contrary to their choice of words, a drop of condemnation in their tone. They raise their glass to their lips again, adding, “try again.”

If it were any other time, and they were anyone else, they’d have just dove headlong into dangerous waters. As it is, they receive an annoyed glare and a clicking of his tongue.

“You’re making me feel better already,” he says, unable to keep all of the spite out of his voice.

“I didn’t say I wanted to make you feel better,” they say, “I said I wanted you to talk to me about it. As it is, I can’t try to make you feel better if I don’t know what the fuck it is making you have nightmares that make you wake up swinging.”

Goddamn.

Even after the length of this relationship, he still hates it when they’re right and get him pinned over a barrel about it.

“I was responsible for lots of death in Asgard,” he says, swirling his scotch and watching the reflection of the flames dance across the liquid. “I was responsible for lots of death before Asgard. Lots of it after, too. In the moment, I didn’t concern myself with it. I suppose I never have.

“The ends justify the means, or so I always convinced myself. I always had some end or another that I deemed important enough for it all to even out after. It rarely did, but I got very good at picking the few scraps of gold out of the muck and insisting it was worth it.”

He drains the scotch, and leans froward to drop the empty glass on the table. “I played with things I didn’t fully understand,” he says, adding, “no, that’s not right. I didn’t want to understand. Refused to, even. They say that the Void is gone, but I can’t bring myself to believe it. I think all I did was prime a golden noose for myself, and one day, it’s going to pull taut.”

Reese is frowning when he looks back up at them. “There’s too many gaps for me to work out what all of that means together,” they say, a note of frustration in their voice.

Norman sighs as he stands, picking up his empty glass and holding out a hand for theirs. They pass it to him and he crosses to the bar.

“I suppose I should pick a starting point and just go from there,” he says, dropping ice into both glasses. “The reasons I invaded Asgard are… numerous…”

And so, he tells them. All of the blanks Reese was adamant about not wanting filled by anyone with an agenda, the things they refused to read about or listen to anyone else speak of are finally explained by the only source, ironically, they trust to hear it from.

It comes from Norman himself.

They know him well enough to be able to see through his bluster and grandstanding. They don’t know other people well enough to be able to gauge what kind of slant they may be giving to the same events. Heroes and villains often have wildly contradictory versions of the same events.

They don’t know if it’s because he once convinced himself he was now the former and had never been the latter, or if because he finally accepted he was always the latter and could never be the former that his retelling feels as close to the truth as they’re like to get.

Or maybe he’s just too tired from not sleeping to add any spin to it.

It might be the truth, but what they’re unaware of is that it is not entirely the whole truth. Even now, when the whole point is to lay everything on the table, he’s still keeping a couple of things close to the vest.

He tells them what Asgard was really like, what it was like to have Bob finally lose it. He tells them about how, even in his madness at the time, there was a part of him relieved deep down when Loki turned on him.

“No one would have been able to stop him otherwise,” he says.

“Y’know,” says Reese, “I can’t say I ever had a real fear of the dark, but I’m understanding your thing with leaving the lights on sometimes, now.”

Norman gives them a bitter smile. “It… wasn’t his fault,” he says. “Not really. Bob never wanted any of that. It didn’t matter if was me or Stark holding the end of his leash, all the man wanted was to feel safe. I saw that as a weakness and exploited it as much as I could.”

“It does kind of sound like he was a ticking time bomb either way,” they say, unsure of what else to say.

“Unfortunate for all of us I’m as good at making bombs go off as I am then,” says Norman. “Now you see why I said I feel like you don’t get to be traumatized by a situation you started yourself.”

“The brain doesn’t know that, though,” they say. “But I know that you do. I think you’re just trying to find another way to, I don’t know, punish yourself. If you’re punishing yourself, then it means you don’t have to start working through any of it. It’s easier to just point at the mirror and say ‘nah, this is just what happens, get over it’, but you won’t get over it unless you let yourself feel it.”

“Now you’re sounding like a therapist,” he says.

“Yeah, lots of my own brain shrinking over the years,” they say. “Not that it fixed anything, but sometimes I think that’s the point. Not everything can be fixed. You just learn to live with it.”

Norman hums, leaning back in the chair and looking back at the fire. “Well, I suppose I’ve got a lot to learn, in that case.”

[selfship-sideblog]

Beautiful sight

Week 2 of @selfshipsummer2021 : Sightseeing

I’m kind of unsure if this fits the prompt, but I’m posting it anyways! Hopefully I’ll manage to write for the remaining weeks because this event is so fun and it will help me to get more comfortable posting my own selfship content! :D

Contains: Diana (OC) x Akutagawa (BSD), Diana (OC) & Chuuya (BSD), Chuuya (BSD) & Akutagawa (BSD)

The three Port Mafia members exited the plane. Although they didn’t look half as threatening as they usually did. Diana looked like a tired mother, hair in what used to be a ponytail spilling down her shoulders and sticking up in different directions, glasses slightly askew and her cardigan slipping off one shoulder. Akutagawa had red tints blooming on his cheeks and pineapple sunglasses on his eyes.

Diana had made Akutagawa try the sunglasses and she had decided to buy them despite his protesting. Since she had apparently found it hilarious Akutagawa had told her he’d wear them whenever they were out in public together. She had laughed. Apparently he wasn’t kidding. He had looked her dead in the eyes and said “You wanted this, now you’ll live with that decision.”

Only Chuuya looked like he usually did but with a tan.

Leaving the airport Diana announced she was tired and so she and Akutagawa took a cab to their shared apartment. When they arrived Diana just changed into other clothes and flopped on the bed, unpacking could wait.

On their break from work the next day they all talked about their days in France. 

Chuuya talked about the towns in general, the food and the language. He liked the public squares, the shops, the restaurants and the architecture. As many pictures he had of the big sights he also had as many of some random places around the cities. Diana agreed everything looked very nice, although she personally liked the smaller tighter streets with the buildings cluttered closer together despite it being easier to get lost in them.

Akutagawa on the other hand liked the Louvre and other museums the most. He liked the arts and anything antique, not surprising looking at his whole fashion sense. Chuuya also had a taste for the finer things in life so he had started looking with interest at the pieces, but later, once Diana had started imitating what she saw he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to join in. So those two had acted like immature kids, poorly copying the statues and pretending to be giving “constructive criticism” of the paintings, while Akutagawa had been appreciating the art and pretending like he didn’t know them.

“The view from the Eiffel Tower was amazing, Paris is so beautiful especially from that height,” Chuuya marveled as they looked through the pictures.

“It is,” Akutagawa agreed.

“I don’t know, it looks good on ground level,” Diana said.

“You’re saying that because you were too much of a coward to get to the top,” Chuuya smirked at her.

“Hey, it’s not cowardly that I don’t want to die from falling off!”

“There were safety railings, how could you have fallen?”

After a short silence she said, “Shut up, I could have.”

“Whatever, you missed out on a beautiful sight,” Chuuya said taking a sip of his coffee (it would have been wine, but they were in a café and later he had to be focused on work).

“Well, I think I had my eyes on an even more beautiful sight the whole trip,” Diana countered.

Chuuya raised his eyebrow, “Really? Which one?”

Diana put her elbow on the table and her hand rested on her chin as she leaned forward and smiled, “Ryunosuke of course.”

Akutagawa was stunned at the comment, his eyes widening but the corners of his lips turned up slightly, almost unnoticeably. His little sunburn still held it’s bright red color adding the illusion of an adorable blush. Chuuya on the other hand let out a sigh as his hand covered his face.

“Your beauty even put Mona Lisa to shame, dear,” Akutagawa added.

“You two are such dorks,” Chuuya shook his head at his friends.

[symphonyselfships]

A-Support

Words: 2,301 

Warnings: Mention of blood.

Summary: Finally reunited after 5 years of war, Ashe decides to take the opportunity to confess his feelings to Rebekah. 

Links: C-Support, B-Support 

Notes: I love him.

It was imperial year 1185, a mark of history that heralded five years since the flames of war consumed Fódlan. Ever since the battle and consequential loss of Garreg Mach Monastery to Emperor Edelgard's army, Rebekah's life had been thrown in chaos, much like the rest of the world. Under Seteth's rushed and final order during the struggle with the enemy, all students of the Officers Academy were to immediately evacuate to their homelands. For Rebekah, this meant running off to the capital of the Kingdom, Fhirdiad. After a teary reunion, her family immediately set forth on mass-producing recruitment posters and the like for the kingdom's army; the library where they lived was only building for miles that had access to do so. It was almost more terrifying how quickly they adjusted to this new war-oriented line of work than the actual presence of it, after all, who reads during wartime? For the next two years, a day wouldn’t pass where Rebekah’s hands weren’t smudged with dark ink. 

However, these ink stains would soon turn crimson with blood when the imperial army broke into Fhridiad, claiming it as part of the ever-expanding empire. It was a brutal clash, the royal guards stationed there were resisting an army three times their size. While Rebekah and her mother retreated into the flow of escaping citizens, her father ran back into their home, attempting to rescue books that the empire would inevitably burn given the content inside. He would not return. Many months into the future, a family friend would send a letter to Rebekah, confirming his capture by the imperial troops. After successfully keeping their lives thus far, the mother-daughter pair decided to flee further north, eventually landing in Galatea territory. They settled as best they could and continued to support the war effort, sewing blankets and distributing rations. Rebekah found this time to be the most vulnerable she had ever been in years. Prince Dimitri was said to be executed, her father was gone, and the Empire's victory seemed inevitable. The despair of her losses threatened to plunge her into a darkness that wouldn't break at dawn.

If it weren't for the letters, that is. 

They were received from… a friend, to put him lightly. Ashe Ubert, temporary overseer of Castle Gaspard territory, and the lone source of her happiness. He sent her a letter every two weeks or so, writing stories about his siblings and cracking corny jokes he knew would make her smile. Rebekah's heart would leap whenever her mother gave her a new envelope, and she would pour over his words until her eyes grew weary. Her mother would wonder out loud if she should change her daughter's surname, to which Rebekah only scoffed and turned pink. After three more years of this, his final letter would come to her a few days before the date of what was supposed to be the millennium festival. He mentioned the promise their class had made to reunite at Garreg Mach for the occasion, and eagerly wrote about how he couldn't wait to see her again. If there was one thing Rebekah was happy about in regards to the war, it was that she had no concrete plans for the next decade or so. Free to chase after this promise, she made her way to the Galatea household, their heir, Ingrid, letting her into the premise due to them being old classmates. Together they decided to trek the dangerous journey back to the monastery. Upon their arrival, the rest came faster than Rebekah ever could've suspected. After countless rumors of their demise, her tears barely had time to dry after seeing the professor and Dimitri alive once more. With the professor's ingenious strategy and leadership on their side again, it was instantly proposed to revive the kingdom army and officially take down the empire. The acceptance of this plan was just as quick; all the Blue Lions, Rebekah included, agreed to stay at Garreg Mach and work together to triumphantly win back their homeland. 

And so now she was here. Basking in the glory of organizing the monastery library.

"As Loog approached Eris, a warm breeze passed through the cliffside they were standing on. The feeling of the air against his skin carried a feeling of memory, and a sense of nostalgia enveloped him. It was a reminder of the start of their adventure: when he was but a simple warrior, and she a maiden of the wind..." Ashe's voice echoed off the library walls, the sound reaching Rebekah just as she shelved the final book. He was sitting at a nearby table, reading from one of his knight's tales in the dim candlelight. Rebekah didn’t exactly know why the professor had sent both of them to arrange only one section. Nonetheless, she was overjoyed to finally be reunited with him after years of only letters. She took a second to admire the completed task, her tidy placement of the various encyclopedias and historical novels a big improvement from earlier. After confirming everything was just the way she wanted it, she walked across the floor to sit opposite from Ashe. Putting her chin in the palm of her hand, she hung on to his every word as he continued his monologue. "Alas, the quickening pace of his heart at the sight of Eris proved that- like emotions- all things change with time," he narrated. 

"Eris stepped forward until she was mere inches from his body, her golden hair flowing in the gust. She gently took Loog's hands in her own, and he realized how truly invaluable she was to him: both as a soldier and companion," Rebekah continued. Ashe looked up at her interruption, meeting her eyes with a small smile. He closed the book and continued speaking, laughter threatening to slip into his words. "Eris felt herself flush when Loog confided this thought to her, her red lips stretching up into a joyful grin. She glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with emotion." 

Rebekah had less self-control than he did, and let out a giggle before continuing to recite the story. "After all this time together, she said, I've never felt happier than I do right now," 

"Would you care to tell me why?" Ashe lowered his voice to a comical level, glancing at Rebekah to see her reaction. She burst into a fit of laughter, and a warmth suddenly spread throughout his heart. "A sm- a small-” Rebekah paused to regain her composure and quickly resumed. “A small smile appeared on Eris's face. I think you already know, she sang to him." 

"You’re right," Ashe continued. 

"Eris-"

"I love you." 

Realizing they both accidentally said Loog's confession at the same time (and to each other no less), Rebekah felt a blush flare up in her cheeks. Ashe was in a similar state from across the table, obviously flustered as he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Should we stop there for today?” he inquired. “I just finished up organizing the shelves, so we should be good to go! Only the rest of this chapter left right? We can meet up some other time to finish it,” Rebekah proposed, a smile across her face. “Of course! I look forward to being with you. To finish the book- I mean. Speaking of, it was really impressive how you could just recite it like that! I thought I was a little weird when I started memorizing it myself, so it makes me really happy knowing somebody else loves it just as much as I do.” Ashe’s words were almost shy as he tucked his hair behind his ear, still slightly red from earlier. “You’re not weird, Ashe. It’s really admirable how you- wait.” Rebekah frowned, her brow creasing. “Hold on.” She slid from her seat, moving to perch on the table right next to Ashe and the storybook. Taking it out of his hands, she flipped through the yellowing pages to the section they were reading earlier. With a small “aha!”, she turned the novel so that it was facing Ashe, her index finger tapping a certain line. "Right here... it says pink lips, not red. It looks like you’re going to have to work on that memorization Mr. Ubert,” she stated, flashing him a wink. Ashe gave a small laugh, getting out of his seat. “Looks like I might! Just don’t go around thinking that I forget everything now,” he teased. 

“Who, me? Never. You’re the one who remembered the promise we made to come back here after all.” Rebekah tilted her head back, leaning on her arms as she gazed up towards the library’s ceiling. “It had almost slipped my mind… I’m really grateful you reminded me about it. Now it’s just like our academy days again! Do you remember how much time we would spend in the greenhouse? You were a pretty amazing gardener.” Ashe’s face lit up as she said this. “I think we spent longer there than in our actual classes! Lots of memories there, huh?” He remarked. Something passed across his complexion, and he suddenly seemed to grow sheepish, shuffling his feet against the floor. “Ah, That reminds me…" he mumbled. He took a deep breath, almost as if to steady his heart, and looked up to meet Rebekah's eyes. "Rebekah, the one to return to Garreg Mach isn’t the only promise that I remember.” 

Rebekah automatically straightened her posture on the table, mouth slightly ajar. If Ashe was referring to what she was thinking... she didn’t even want to imagine the possibilities, in fear of disappointment. While she was preoccupied with her thoughts, Ashe came closer to her, shyly fiddling with his gloves. “That day in the greenhouse… I vowed that until I had the right words to say, I would protect you. Stand by your side and make sure that you're safe... because I care about you." Ashe's voice went quiet as he moved to take one of her hands in his own. Raising it, he brushed a gentle kiss across her knuckles, almost as if he was sealing the sentiment. Had it not been for the very real sensation of his lips against her skin, Rebekah would've mistaken this for a wonderful daydream her mind was conjuring up. He moved to grasp her hand in both of his own, every inch of his face more lovestruck then she had ever seen anybody else’s before. "And… well, I suppose there couldn't be a better time to finally tell you," he continued. "I'm in love with you, Rebekah. Deeply and eternally. I never want to stop being your knight. That is, of course... if you will have me." 

Rebekah couldn’t speak. It felt like she couldn’t even breathe. Everything she had ever wanted had lead up to this moment in time, overwhelming her in the best way possible. Ashe: beautiful, kind, sincere Ashe, loved her. Her own fairytale romance was finally budding into fruition, and she had never felt happier in her entire life. Breaking into a wide smile, she reached up to take his face in her hands, exclaiming:

“How could I say no!? I love you more than anything else in the world!” 

Ashe’s eyes glinted as he registered that she felt the same way, whether from the candlelight or something else. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream,” he mumbled, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. Rebekah gave a soft laugh and guided his head towards her until their foreheads were touching. “It’s not.” She tenderly brushed her thumbs over his freckled cheekbones, reveling in the fact those stars now belonged to her. Consequently, it was at that moment both of them realized how close they were, uncomfortably so had it been any other situation. Instinct pulled Ashe forward, but he stopped himself, first and foremost a gentleman. He glanced up at her through his eyelashes, and barely whispered his next words.

“...May I?” 

The breath of the request ghosting over her lips sent a shiver down Rebekah's spine. She didn't answer, instead choosing to lean forward, finally sealing the gap between the two of them. Ashe was still, eyes shot wide open with surprise. Too still, he realized. Despite his desperation to fix that error, he kissed Rebekah back so softly her heart threatened to flutter right out of her chest. His hands moved to gently hold her waist, tilting his head to deepen their connection as much as possible. The rush of euphoria combined with the ever-present lack of oxygen caused Rebekah to pull away from him with a small gasp, moving her hands away from his face to clutch his shoulders. The pair sat there for a few seconds to recover, and started to laugh from sheer joy. 

"So, what now?" Ashe asked once their little fit was done, affectionately bumping his nose against hers. Rebekah giggled at the gesture, but her attitude quickly turned serious. "We keep fighting. Keep believing. Whatever happens will happen in due time, but for now…." She trailed off and lowered her hand, intertwining her fingers with Ashe's. 

"We love." 

Ashe gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I don't think I'll have to worry about that." Rebekah let out a pleased hum, nuzzling her head into his chest. Much to her annoyance, her sense of responsibility still tugged at the corner of her mind. Sighing, she begrudgingly moved away from him. "Should we head back downstairs? We're done with our task." "Well.... we still have a while before dinner," he said, a hint of suggestion playing at his words. A smile flickered across Rebekah's lips, and she grasped the sides of his hood, tugging him close. "Come here." 

Ashe complied and leaned forward, laughing under his breath. 

“Anything for you.”

[automatayaoi]

here’s my thing for @nougatships yuletide event !! it’s time for the clowns!!

I ALSO WROTE A FIC AND IT GOT...A LITTLE OUT OF HAND......IT’S LIKE 2,800 WORDS DJSLFHSJDKL

anyway its under the cut djslfhsjl

pairing: arlequino x kero pierriot (my clownsona !! )

desc: for the first time ever, kero’s not performing in the circus’s show tonight. somehow, it seems that they have other plans.

“What? You’re not performing today?”

Masaru leans back from the mirror in front of him, makeup brush still held up in his hand. He tilts his head as he turns to look at the person beside him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you miss a show!”

Kero Pierrot swipes their makeup brush across their eyelids to finish filling in the white heart around their eyes, then switches the brush for a puff, starting to press powder to their face to set the grease paint.

“I know, I know, my perfect attendance record is gonna be ruined! But I got an invitation that I just can’t turn down, even for our circus.”

Masaru tilts his head the other way, only more questions coming to mind.

“An invitation…?”

Suddenly a thought seems to come to him, and the large vanity is shaken, various makeup products tipping and falling to the ground, as Masaru leaps to his feet in a panic.

“You aren’t switching circuses, are you?!”

Kero turns to him, brows knit incredulously.

“No, I’m not switching circuses! What kind of clown do you think I am?!”

They huff and bop the boy’s nose with their powder puff, causing him to stumble back and go into a sneezing fit as white powder sticks to his face and hangs in the air like a cloud. Behind them both, deep laughter fills the dressing room. A large man leans up against one of the support beams of the tent.

“You should know better than to doubt Kero’s loyalty at this point, Masaru.”

“But Na-a-achoo! Narumi nii-chan…!”

He laughs again, even as Shirogane rushes past him with a box of tissues and to Masaru’s side, ever the worrier even now. Kero huffs again and turns back to the vanity, only to blink and pause as they scan the tabletop.

“Oh, now I can’t find the red paint…”

“Is this what you are looking for, mon chéri?”

A slender hand reaches down and picks up the red tube of grease paint that had fallen to the ground in the hubbub. All annoyance seems to leave Kero in an instant, the confusion on their face immediately turning into a wide smile.

“Arlequino!”

Arlequino smiles as he sets the tube of grease paint down on the vanity. Kero turns in their seat to face him and throws their arms up, and the automaton obliges the wordless request by leaning down to accept the kiss on his porcelain cheek. Kero’s arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer, and he laughs quietly.

“You are going to smudge your makeup, mon chéri.”

“I already set it this time!!”

“Ah, good, so I will only be covered in the powder.”

Kero laughs and releases their lover from the hug, allowing him to straighten from the perfect right angle he had been bent at. The detriments of being nine feet tall. He finds one of the seats scattered about the back room and pulls it up to the vanity, and sits down next to Kero as they turn to the mirror and continue to apply their makeup.

On their other side, Masaru stands up, taking another tissue from Shirogane and blowing into it to try and get all the powder out of his nose. Finally, it seems his sneezing fit has ended, and he shakes the white from his hair.

“What invitation did you get, then?”

Kero pauses painting the heart on the end of their nose, and turns to Masaru with a smile.

“A party, duh! For Yule!”

Masaru tilts his head as he takes his seat next to the clown once more.

“Yule?”

“Yeah! S’gonna be all fancy, too. I’ve never been to a fancy party, but I think it’s gonna be fun!”

He turns to Kero, his eyes narrowed.

“…I don’t think I can imagine you being fancy.”

“I’ll dump this powder on your head, Masaru!”

Masaru quickly leans back, prompting a laugh from Kero. They smile and turn back to the mirror to finish setting the grease paint on their nose, and wipe the excess from around their eyes.

“Arle and I are going together.”

“Ohhh, I didn’t know that!”

The sing song voice of Columbine fills the dressing room as the remaining two automaton members of Les Trios Pionniers finally enter. She bounds over to Arlequino’s side, grabbing his arm with a fiendish grin.

“You should’ve told me, Arle! I could’ve given you some very useful date advise, you know!”

“I do believe that is exactly why he did not tell you, Columbine,” Pantalone chuckles as he comes to lean against the end of the long vanity. The sole female of the automatons pouts, but mercifully lets go of her fellow circus performer.

“For your information, I have studied many human romance novels, and I am very knowledgeable about their complex relationships!”

“Yet which one of the three of us is actually in a relationship?”

“Well, I–…I mean, I’m just….shut up!”

Columbine crosses her arms and huffs, stamping her foot, and Pantalone barks a laugh as Arlequino shakes his head, smiling.

“I would much appreciate your input, Columbine. Perhaps you can give me advice on one how acts during a ‘Yuletide Ball’ while I am getting ready. Speaking of…”

He turns to Kero once more, and leans in to press a careful kiss to their cheek.

“I must take my leave for now, mon chéri. I wished to tell you good morning, but now I must attend to the task of preparing for this formal event.”

Kero smiles as they look at him, their face dusted red under their stage makeup.

“Okay!! I’ll see you later, Arle. Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime, mon sourire.”

Arlequino stands, smiling, and pointedly ignoring whatever rude face Narumi was making at that moment. Luckily, he does not need to ignore it for long, as Shirogane delivers a swift elbow to her husband’s stomach, causing him to cough and double over. Arlequino bows thankfully to her, then turns and leads his fellow automatons out of the back dressing room.

The back room is quiet for a few moments, save for Narumi’s whining, before Masaru breaks the silence yet again.

“Wait, if you aren’t performing today, Kero-san, why are you putting on your stage makeup?”

Kero Perriot turns to him with a smile, as they unclip the barrette that had been holding up their dyed green bangs.

“You know a clown doesn’t go anywhere without their makeup, Masaru!”

-

Kero’s teeth chatter lightly as they pull the fluffy cape around their shoulders. Perhaps it had not been the smartest idea to wait for Arlequino outside the warm tent, instead choosing to stand out in the biting winter air, soft snow piled all around them from the recent blizzard.

But they had just been so excited, and couldn’t stand to sit and wait inside the tent as the others prepared for that day’s show. And watching them might make them rethinking going to the party.

It’d been a long time since they hadn’t participated in the nightly circus shows, after all.

So here they wait, shivering in the cold, wishing they had chosen the fleece lined leggings instead. Even if the tights they had picked were pretty cute.

“Wh-where is he…” They mumble, rubbing their hands together quickly so the friction will warm their numbing fingers. They didn’t think getting ready could take so long…but Columbine had mentioned trying to give him advice, and she does have a tendency to be long winded. Plus finding an outfit that fit an automaton like Arlequino could be quite difficult.

Maybe they should just go check on them.

They start walking back through the grounds towards the trailer they know Les Trois Pionniers usually reside in. Well, Pantalone and Columbine reside there–Arlequino often stayed with Kero in their trailer, nowadays. Snow crunches beneath their shoes, and they hope the damp doesn’t damage them.

They pass through the back tents and trailers of the circus, waving to their fellow performers as they pass by towards the big top. Finally, they reach the trailer far in the back, larger than most, to accommodate the automaton’s size. They can see lights from the windows, and they puff their cheeks. So they are still in there!

They walk towards the door to ask just what is taking them so long, but they pause when they hear the voices of the three automatons inside.

“–corsages are very important! Flowers have many meanings, you know, and you can tell someone quite a lot with a corsage!” Columbine’s fretting floats from one of the open windows. Only automatons, incapable of being affected by the temperature, could stand to have the window open when it was so freezing.

“I do not think a corsage will be easy to find in the middle of winter, Columbine. And I do not think we have time to find a florist,” Pantalone’s deep baritone refutes.

“Oh, you’re right, aren’t you? Perhaps I should have found one in advance…” Arlequino’s soft, yet deep voice, unmistakable for Kero. Though there was a shakiness to it they’d never heard before.

They pause before they start to climb the stairs. It seems that the automatons were deep in conversation with each other, and they felt reluctant to interrupt. Not to mention...they were curious to hear more of what they were talking about. They carefully shuffle up under the open window to listen.

“Yes, you should have! The flowers are extremely important!”

“As you have said so many times, but now it is too late.”

“Hmph, fine. Alright, next: compliments! Compliments are the bread and butter of any relationship!”

“You say this as if he is not already in the relationship.”

“No, no, Pantalone, let her continue. This is a formal date, I should perform to my utmost best. What, ah, per say, should I compliment them on…?”

“Anything! Everything! Compliment their outfit–! Do you know what their outfit is, by the by?”

“No, they would not let me see…”

“Oh, how romantic! The mystery! The shock! I want to see it all! Are you sure I can’t come, Arle-chan?”

“Yes, unfortunately, it will be only us attending this ball.”

“You seem quite relieved about that, Arlequino. Glad to have a night alone with your darling?”

“I-it is not as if it is an entirely private affair, there will be many others in attendance…”

“Oh, did you hear that! He stuttered!”

“I did not stutter.”

“You did, Arle-chan! You did!”

The trailer roars with the laughter of the two automatons, Arlequino’s protests lost under the clamor. Kero smiles and presses a hand to their mouth to stifle their own laughter. Perhaps they shouldn’t be eavesdropping on their lover readying himself for their date–but they couldn’t bring themselves to interrupt this little meeting between ancient friends.

“Ehehe, oh, come now, Arle-chan, hold still! I’m not done with your hair!”

“I will not sit and suffer your mockery!”

“Sit, man, sit, and we’ll stop laughing at your expense.”

“Hmph, fine…”

“There you go. Now, what else is there…ah, yes! Dancing!”

“Dancing? There will be dancing?”

“Of course there will, dummy, it’s a ball! That’s basically all they’re for!”

“What kind of dancing? I, I am not very good at dancing, I am a musician, I play the music, I don’t dance to it.”

“Mm, I think waltz is the most popular one.”

“I most certainly do not know how to waltz. What do I do if they want to waltz?”

“Do you really think Kero-san knows how to waltz?”

“I don’t know! They know a great many dances I do not understand! What if they ask to dance and I am left floundering on the dance floor like a fool?”

“You are a fool, Arlequino.”

“You know very well what I mean, Pantalone!”

“My, Arle-chan, I’ve never seen you so worked up! Don’t worry your little head so much, I’m sure you will be fine. You’ve always been the second most graceful one of us.”

“Second?”

“After me, of course!”

‘Ah. Of course.”

“Don’t you give me that look.”

“Are you quite finished with my hair? I am already far too late.”

“Oh, yes, yes, just give me a moment more…”

Maybe now was a good time to make themselves known, since Arlequino would be ready quite soon. They step back to the window and climb the metal stairs of the trailer, then knocked on the door.

“Arlequino? We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry up!”

No need for them to know they’d been eavesdropping.

They hear heavy footsteps from inside, and as the door is opened, they have to crane their head up to look at Pantalone.

“Hello, Kero-san. Do not worry, Arlequino will be ready in a moment’s time.”

Behind him, Columbine seems to finish whatever last touch she had wanted to make with Arlequino’s hair, and she slips under Pantalone’s arm and into the doorway.

“Oh, Keri, you look so cute!” She coos, her hands clapping together. Kero smiles, bashfully so as red further colors their cold cheeks.

“Thank you, Bunny…”

“Would you two please make room so I may actually leave the trailer?”

“If you so insist, dear musician.”

With impish smiles, the two part, allowing Arlequino and Kero to see each other at last. He steps forward, his silver hair cascading over one shoulder and contrasting with the black coat he wore. Gold trim glints in the light that halos him from behind. Kero looks up at him, and feels their heart stop inside their chest.

Arlequino, conversely, feels like his mechanical chest has gained a heart, as he looks down at the human that has changed him so thoroughly. Kero’s green hair is pulled up into pigtails, a fascinator with a cone shaped hat tilted to the side sitting on their head, the band covered in bows of various pastels. Their upper half is covered with a warm winter cape, the skirt of their colorful dress wide and fluffy, and their tights twinkle with sequins.

For a long moment, they are quiet, until Columbine jabs a hand into Arlequino’s side to get his attention. She quickly mouths ‘compliment!’, and he nods, looking back to Kero.

“You, ah, you look very lovely, mon chéri. Very lovely, indeed, yes. I have never seen you wear something so…feminine.”

There is a ‘clack!’ as Pantalone hits his face with his palm.

Kero huffs, even as they flush red.

“You know I don’t like being called feminine, Arle!”

Arlequino blinks and waves his hands as he quickly tries to backtrack.

“No, no, of course, not feminine, that is to say, it is, I haven’t seen you in…this particular style before. It…suits you very well. Truly.”

Kero’s lip juts out still, but their face turns a further shade of red, and they look down, fingers beginning to mess with the tassel on their cape.

“Well, you…look handsome, y’know. Bunny did a good job with your hair.”

Columbine practically beams with pride, and Arlequino smiles, shaking his head slightly. He turns momentarily to take his lute from where it sits in its case, then steps out of the trailer with Kero.

“Thank you, mon chéri. Though between you and I, Columbine takes far too long to be a reliable hairdresser.”

“Hey! I’ll remember that next time you ask me to braid your hair!”

Kero blinks and laughs a little, and Arlequino glows, as he always does when he makes someone laugh. Especially Kero. He offers out his elbow, and Kero takes it, hugging his arm to their chest.

“I believe we must away, lest we be too late for the festivities.”

“Yeah! You gotta make up for making me wait so long, though…I was standing out in the cold for, like, half an hour!” Kero pouts as they look up. Arlequino quirks an eyebrow.

“Why did you not simply wait inside?”

“If I did that, I would’ve gotten caught up with setting up for the show!”

“Mm, I suppose that is quite true. You never can leave a problem unsolved, can you?” He chuckles.

“Nope! C’mon!”

Kero starts to pull him along, away from the trailer, and he smiles, sparing only a glance back to his compatriots. Pantalone raises a hand to wave, as Columbine cups her hands around her mouth.

“Don’t forget what I told you about mistletoe!”

Arlequino blinks, and he is grateful for his porcelain face that lacks the ability to blush. Still, he laughs, and turns back to follow Kero as they pull him towards the Yuletide Ball. They look at him with a wide smile.

“Did you remember to tune your lute?”

“Of course, mon chéri. Did you remember your juggling rings and modelling balloons?”

“Yeah!” They lift the large pink handbag they carry in their other hand. “I also brought some flyers from the circus!”

“Ah, wonderful idea.”

“Thanks, Arle. Remember, we’re there to have fun, but also to be ambassadors of the Nakamichi Circus!” Kero nods, their expression set with determination

“No rest for the wicked, is it?” Arlequino tilts his head with a smile

“Hey, you can take the clown out of the circus, but you can’t take the circus out of the clown!”

“Quite right you are, mon chéri. Come, let us show these revelers a hint of what our circus has to offer.”

“That’s super ominous, Arle,” Kero says with a laugh.

“Ah. Apologies,” Arlequino mumbles.”

“S’okay. I know what you mean.”

Kero smiles up at him, and Arlequino can do nothing else but smile back, wider than he’d ever thought was possible for an automaton like him.

“Je t’aime, mon sourire.”

Kero blinks, and their smile splits their face.

“Je t’aime, Arle!”