#f.hsr

[0798f]

💞 — Sonnet 18.

RELATIONSHIP: Dr. Ratio x Reader

SUMMARY: There is little time to spend together and there was little to be hidden.

A/N: I just like the secret relationship trope.

The Intelligentsia Guild worked alongside the IPC very closely. Most IPC agents were familiar with a few Guild members and it was common for both factions to work closely together on projects. Typically, though, those at the top of the corporate ladders only dealt with those of similar status to them. They had little care for what the average office grunt was doing.

Today, Veritas Ratio found himself at Pier Point for a routine visit to the IPC headquarters. He was perhaps the highest of the corporate ladder when it came to the relationship between the IPC and Intelligentsia Guild. Most scholars have never met a Stoneheart, yet Ratio worked with multiple members side by side to accomplish important tasks. In fact, his visit here was solely to meet with Aventurine about an upcoming excursion, in the gambler’s words, they would have to take to make a deal. 

So it was strange that, instead of going straight to the ornate IPC conference room to be fashionably thirty minutes early for a meeting Aventurine would be late for anyways, Ratio made his way to the IPC archives. It was a cavernous room filled with any data log relevant to the IPC; everything from future business prospects to client information that the IPC promised they didn’t keep. Ratio much preferred the leatherbound paper of a physical book, so these archives weren’t of much use to him.

A lone archivist was responsible for organizing and sending information across the IPC’s channels. It was not an enviable job; it meant spending hours and hours alone in a windowless, sterile room doing thankless tasks. But that archivist did not seem to mind too much. They sat at a large desk with a comfortable looking chair and extra comfortable looking blanket. With nothing in their queue right now, they used their computer to listen to music and scroll through social media. In Ratio’s opinion, it was quite unprofessional for his taste, but for this thankless job that no one else was willing to do, he understood why they would allow such a relaxed environment.

Ratio approached the archivist’s desk and addressed them, “(Name).”

(Name) looked up from their screen and smiled. It was a reserved smile betrayed by the sparkling in their eyes. They stood up, carefully putting their blanket behind them on their seat, and walked around their desk to properly greet the Doctor. “Ah! Dr. Ratio. It’s good to see you. Is there something you need from the archives?”

Now, the Doctor was more reserved than most. Most of the time he wore a bust because he couldn’t bear to look at the faces of the uneducated and rarely smiled even without it. No one could read his expression and whatever he was thinking was beyond the understanding of any normal person. Certainly beyond the scope of a common IPC grunt.

“Yes,” he began. “I was looking for you.”

In the empty archives, there was no facade necessary for them to keep up. And Ratio is reserved and patient at all times so he allowed himself to lower his guard in this moment. Ratio moved forwards and placed his hands on (Name)’s waist, pressing his fingers against their side. He pressed a kiss to (Name)’s neck, then another, and another, moving upwards until he reached their jaw. The premise of status disappeared and (Name) savored his embrace, giggling with each kiss and turning to face him once he reached their jaw. Their arms found their way around Ratio’s neck and (Name) leaned forward to steal a rare kiss from the Doctor. It had been several months since the pair had seen each other in person, and while messages were a decent form of communication, it could never replace the pure euphoria of being in each other’s embrace.

Those moments, though, are often too short. The couple separated, only for (Name) to pull Ratio in for a hug. There would be no greater scandal than such a low level IPC agent fraternizing with Veritas Ratio of all people, but amongst the shelves of data they were just two regular people. (Name) clutched wordlessly onto Ratio, savoring the feeling of his body against theirs. Ratio pressed a kiss to the shell of their ear then their cheek, his lips never leaving their skin. 

Their time together was always too short, but that just meant each opportunity was special.

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[0798f]

🎇 — Lily of the Valley

RELATIONSHIP: Sunday x Reader

SUMMARY: Your favorite flower catches Sunday's eye.

A/N: The final fic for the Hanami event! I really hope everyone enjoyed a week of daily fics, I really enjoyed writing them!

Adjusting to life on the Astral Express wasn’t as difficult as Sunday expected it to be. Don’t be mistaken— the feeling of being an awkward bystander lingered no matter how many days passed. But the Astral Express crew were a friendly and welcoming bunch, and they were working hard to make Sunday feel at home.

One crew member especially excelled at building rapport with Sunday. To an unexpected level.

“Hey, Sunday? Are you busy?” (Name) leaned over the back of the chair Sunday had made his nest. Their cheek brushed against his wings, which he pulled towards his face to avoid whacking them with an excited flutter.

Sunday put his book down, marking the page with a (Name)’s handcrafted bookmark. They gifted it to him when he first boarded the Express, beaming about how it looked like a ticket. “I know you’re not planning to stay long, but if you change your mind, you already have a ticket!”

And (Name) continued to be just as warm and friendly everyday. To say Sunday was charmed would be an understatement— he looked forward to his interactions with (Name) every day, to the point where he would pout in his seat when (Name) would greet but walk past him. 

“I’m not busy,” Sunday replied. “What do you need?”

He tilted his head towards (Name), trying to be calm about the few centimeters between them. When Sunday moved back, (Name) moved forward. “Well… This time of year is spring on my home planet, and I felt a little homesick. I got some plants, but I need some help setting them up. The conductor mentioned you had a green thumb!”

Sunday let out a humble laugh. “Green thumb is a strong title… I simply like to keep plants alive.” He used to help take care of the Family gardens when he was a child and took great pride in his work, but saying that out loud felt like a bit too much. “I’d be glad to help.”

(Name) had a smile that lit up the room and it was incredibly blinding up close. ”Thank you so much! Let’s go!”

He didn’t need (Name) to guide him to their cabin, but when they insisted by pulling his arm the entire way, Sunday had no heart to refuse. Sunday nearly tripped upon entering their room; a mess of open boxes and grow lights littered the floor, strewn about from when (Name) gave up and decided to ask Sunday for his help.

Leaves stuck out of one of the open boxes. Sunday kneeled down to inspect the plants (Name) had picked out. For the most part, they were typical house plants— those on the planet of festivities cared little about the greenery, but Sunday paid pristine attention to the planters around the dreamscape and the Reverie. So he recognized the pothos, the anthurium, and the orchid. But smaller flowers amongst the leaves caught Sunday’s attention.

“A lily of the valley?” Sunday picked up the white flower’s planter to admire it. It was in pristine, beautiful condition after surviving the trip to the Express without harm. 

(Name)’s eyes widened as they kneeled down next to Sunday. “You recognize it?”

“Yes, they also grow in Penacony.” A memory with blurred edges surged to the forefront of Sunday’s mind. He sat in a Family garden with Robin and they poured over a book of Penacony flora and fauna, trying to identify all the flowers in the garden. There were many extravagant flowers that grew on the planet of festivities, but Sunday found himself drawn to the lily of the valley. “It’s one of my favorite flowers.”

It was simple and elegant. It relied on no flashiness or bright colors— it existed quietly in understated beauty. As a child, Sunday couldn’t quite understand why he appreciated the flower. When he grew older and took his place as the head of the Oak Family, Sunday reasoned that it embodied the Order. Simple flowers aligned in rows, able to be admired from the safety of a garden; that was the dream that Sunday wanted to cultivate.

But life slumbered so it could wake up from the dream, and faced with the flower again in the presence of (Name), Sunday could find a new meaning in it. “It’s my favorite, too! I think it’s a really beautiful flower. Not to mention that it’s also really low maintenance, hehe.”

Sunday wasn’t one to believe in fate— for most of his life he was greatly opposed to the idea that destiny was out of his control. But he found it comforting that he had the same favorite flower as (Name). Maybe it meant something. He looked up at them, a small smile on his lips. “May I ask why this flower is your favorite?”

“Hmm…” (Name) raised a brow at Sunday’s question and tapped their chin in thought. “How should I describe it… When someone thinks of a ‘beautiful flower’ they probably imagine something like a lotus flower, right? Any flower that has the petals arranged perfectly symmetrical. Those flowers are definitely beautiful, but…”

They beckoned Sunday for the flower, and he gently placed the planter in their hands. “It could have a few flowers, or a lot. They’re not always in perfect rows, either! Sometimes they’re in pairs and sometimes one flower is by itself. Every flower is unique and… I don’t know. I really like that.”

Sunday blinked. He looked down at the flower again and he saw it in a whole new light. What he labeled as perfection was imperfection in (Name)’s eyes, but still beautiful all the same. “I never thought about them like that,” he admitted. “I used to think of them as tidy and perfectly aligned…”

The wistful expression Sunday had gave (Name) pause. He had warmed up since he boarded the express— thanks in no small part to (Name) worming their way into his heart. They started chatting with him because they wanted him to feel welcome but Sunday had turned into quite the people pleaser. Maybe he was just trying to be nice, but he would never turn down a conversation. So (Name) learned plenty about him, and he learned plenty about them. He knew (Name)’s favorite food, the way they liked their tea, and what their favorite Robin song was. Now he knew their favorite flower and he still wanted to know more.

Taking a chance, (Name) leaned forward. “Well, I guess you’re just like it, then!”

Sunday felt his face heat up. He would’ve covered it with his wings, but that would’ve made it even more obvious. “What do you mean?”

And taking another chance, (Name) scooted closer so that their knees bumped against Sunday’s. Now their face started to burn. “You dreamed of order, but you chose to wake up. Maybe things in the real world aren’t as perfect as you wanted it to be, but you’re committed to learning.”

There was a tiny voice in the back of (Name)’s mind screaming, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? This was a terrible idea on all fronts and (Name) was risking the friendship they had built up. Not to mention it would make meal times on the express horrifically awkward. If Sunday didn’t share mutual feelings, (Name) might throw themself into the cosmos.

Sunday was no fool— he understood what was happening. The question to consider was what he wanted to do about it. He had his reservations, but he was supposed to start anew. Maybe this could be one of the new things he could explore. “I see,” Sunday smiled. “I suppose I could be one of the flowers on its stem.”

(Name) decided to pass the point of no return. “Maybe you’re a pair? I could be… the flower next to you.”

Thankfully, Sunday passed the point with them. “I would like that.”

Much to both of their surprise, Sunday closed the distance first. Despite being the initial instigator, (Name) was lost on what to do when Sunday’s lips met theirs. His lips were soft but the pressure was firm, whether it was out of intensity or inexperience (Name) didn’t know, but it was exhilarating. One of Sunday’s hands found (Name)‘s neck, resting his thumb against their jaw. His other hand rested on (Name)’s as they clutched the delicate flower for dear life.

Before Sunday fully pulled away, he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of (Name)’s lips. Leaning back, Sunday pulled one of (Name)’s hands with him. He kissed the back of their hand. “Careful,” he murmured against their skin. “You’re going to crush the flower.”

(Name) set the planter back on top of the box and leaned forward once again. Sunday felt their warm breath against his skin. “It’s safe and sound… So, let’s keep going—“

Sunday closed the distance before (Name) could finish. 

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