Asayake (Loveless fic for runedance)
Jun. 4th, 2009 12:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grape_sodaTitle: Asayake (Japanese for "Morning Glow")
Fandom: Loveless
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Pairing: soft, innocent Soubi/Ritsuka
Author's Note: This is a fic of gratitude for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
runedance, for all her hard work on translating my fic "Remember" into Russian, for sending me the Princess Princess art book, and for just generally being a kind and wonderful friend. YAY!
Here's that fic I wrote for you,runedance! <3 You're so kind and wonderful to talk to, and I hope you enjoy this ficlet! I started writing a huge, long, complicated fic, but since this is based on your drawing with all its soft, gorgeous simplicity, I decided to go in a different direction with something that fit the art's feeling better. I hope I succeeded! I had someone help me figure out what to title the lj-cut in Russian, just because <3
The story is based on this drawing:
Good morning by ~runedance0 on deviantART
Asayake
For the moment, there is stillness.
Soft, silken strands of hair brush his nose, his cheeks, his chin. Small ears twitch, a small heartbeat lulls him into calm and satisfaction. The morning sun, so docile and warm, is what lights the world behind his eyelids and brilliant crimson. It is harder and harder to stay in this delicate balance between half-sleep and really, really waking, but he must. This moment is perfect, and he has no desire to rejoin the waking world. For now, this is his universe.
Soubi lies still, quiet, and allows himself to luxuriate in the feeling of he and Ritsuka’s heartbeats melding, thudding soft and warm and in sync, almost forming one. The room, he knows, is dancing with sunbeams. Traces of the real world brush him; the scent of fresh paints from the canvas he left out to dry the previous night, the heavy perfume of lilacs that Ritsuka picked for him sitting on the small table beside the bed.
Scent, as Soubi has heard, is the strongest tie to memory, and these scents make him think of Ritsuka. The young boy is curled across his chest, his small hand resting on the flat plane of Soubi’s shirt and instilling a warmth in his skin that makes him smile. His own hand flexes against the small of Ritsuka’s back, testing the waters, before he begins to stroke the skin through the soft white cotton of the shirt, starchy and smooth beneath his hands. At the touch, Ritsuka stirs slightly, shifting his head. His warm breath flutters strands of Soubi’s hair, and the artist feels like laughing out loud. In all his years of attempting to capture perfect beauty through art, he has missed out. All he would need to paint at this moment would be the image of Ritsuka sleeping peacefully on his chest, his young consciousness tucked away safely in his dreams, and his goal would be met.
“Ritsuka,” Soubi whispers fondly, not wishing to wake the sleeping boy, only wishing to weave that beautiful name into the stillness of the air. Ritsuka stirs again, and his time his lips brush Soubi’s chin, provoking a smile.
“Soubi?” Ritsuka whispers back, and Soubi opens his eyes. He seems sunbeams, but more importantly, he sees Ritsuka watching him. “Did I wake you up?”
“No. Not at all. How long have you been awake?” the blonde questions sleepily, and Ritsuka blushes.
“Ten minutes. I just didn’t want to wake you up. You seemed so peaceful,” the cat-eared boy admits sheepishly. Soubi laughs softly, because he himself was thinking the same thing about Ritsuka. “Why are you laughing at me?” the dark-haired boy demands, and Soubi reaches forward and tucks Ritsuka back under his chin.
“I am happy,” he says in reply, keeping the true reasons to himself, because he can feel the smile grow on Ritsuka’s face at this answer. “And I love being the one to wake up with you.”
Ritsuka is blushing deeper now, and as Soubi leans down to kiss the top of his head, Ritsuka turns himself and places a kiss of his own on Soubi’s cheek, warm and soft.
“Good morning, Soubi,” he says softly, and as Soubi sits there with Ritsuka close to him in the morning sunbeams and breathes deeply the scent of lilacs, he smiles.
“Good morning.”
Fandom: Loveless
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Pairing: soft, innocent Soubi/Ritsuka
Author's Note: This is a fic of gratitude for
runedance, for all her hard work on translating my fic "Remember" into Russian, for sending me the Princess Princess art book, and for just generally being a kind and wonderful friend. YAY!Here's that fic I wrote for you,
runedance! <3 You're so kind and wonderful to talk to, and I hope you enjoy this ficlet! I started writing a huge, long, complicated fic, but since this is based on your drawing with all its soft, gorgeous simplicity, I decided to go in a different direction with something that fit the art's feeling better. I hope I succeeded! I had someone help me figure out what to title the lj-cut in Russian, just because <3The story is based on this drawing:
Good morning by ~runedance0 on deviantART
For the moment, there is stillness.
Soft, silken strands of hair brush his nose, his cheeks, his chin. Small ears twitch, a small heartbeat lulls him into calm and satisfaction. The morning sun, so docile and warm, is what lights the world behind his eyelids and brilliant crimson. It is harder and harder to stay in this delicate balance between half-sleep and really, really waking, but he must. This moment is perfect, and he has no desire to rejoin the waking world. For now, this is his universe.
Soubi lies still, quiet, and allows himself to luxuriate in the feeling of he and Ritsuka’s heartbeats melding, thudding soft and warm and in sync, almost forming one. The room, he knows, is dancing with sunbeams. Traces of the real world brush him; the scent of fresh paints from the canvas he left out to dry the previous night, the heavy perfume of lilacs that Ritsuka picked for him sitting on the small table beside the bed.
Scent, as Soubi has heard, is the strongest tie to memory, and these scents make him think of Ritsuka. The young boy is curled across his chest, his small hand resting on the flat plane of Soubi’s shirt and instilling a warmth in his skin that makes him smile. His own hand flexes against the small of Ritsuka’s back, testing the waters, before he begins to stroke the skin through the soft white cotton of the shirt, starchy and smooth beneath his hands. At the touch, Ritsuka stirs slightly, shifting his head. His warm breath flutters strands of Soubi’s hair, and the artist feels like laughing out loud. In all his years of attempting to capture perfect beauty through art, he has missed out. All he would need to paint at this moment would be the image of Ritsuka sleeping peacefully on his chest, his young consciousness tucked away safely in his dreams, and his goal would be met.
“Ritsuka,” Soubi whispers fondly, not wishing to wake the sleeping boy, only wishing to weave that beautiful name into the stillness of the air. Ritsuka stirs again, and his time his lips brush Soubi’s chin, provoking a smile.
“Soubi?” Ritsuka whispers back, and Soubi opens his eyes. He seems sunbeams, but more importantly, he sees Ritsuka watching him. “Did I wake you up?”
“No. Not at all. How long have you been awake?” the blonde questions sleepily, and Ritsuka blushes.
“Ten minutes. I just didn’t want to wake you up. You seemed so peaceful,” the cat-eared boy admits sheepishly. Soubi laughs softly, because he himself was thinking the same thing about Ritsuka. “Why are you laughing at me?” the dark-haired boy demands, and Soubi reaches forward and tucks Ritsuka back under his chin.
“I am happy,” he says in reply, keeping the true reasons to himself, because he can feel the smile grow on Ritsuka’s face at this answer. “And I love being the one to wake up with you.”
Ritsuka is blushing deeper now, and as Soubi leans down to kiss the top of his head, Ritsuka turns himself and places a kiss of his own on Soubi’s cheek, warm and soft.
“Good morning, Soubi,” he says softly, and as Soubi sits there with Ritsuka close to him in the morning sunbeams and breathes deeply the scent of lilacs, he smiles.
“Good morning.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-04 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-05 06:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-05 04:42 pm (UTC)Don't you mind if I place a link to this gift in my JJs?
ps: LJ-cut on russian is one more wonderfull thing. :D
no subject
Date: 2009-06-05 06:46 pm (UTC)I love how strongly scent connects to memory <3 My fondest memories and even some dark ones are always dug up when I smell something familiar.
I don't mind at all! ^^ Go right ahead. You can link to it wherever you'd like.
I'm glad you enjoyed the LJ cut in Russian XD I had to have help with it. I really do need to learn the language, though. It's one of my goals.
Thank you for your kind words! 8D
no subject
Date: 2009-06-06 12:02 pm (UTC)Please ask me if you need any help with it :D !
PS: Georgeous avatar picture! It's from one of my favourite LL art *____*
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 04:20 am (UTC)Thank you! 8D I love that art too. A friend colored the icon.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 04:22 pm (UTC)Have you ever seen this?!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 04:17 am (UTC)I have a mini dollfie myself, named Arai. He's adorable ^^
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 01:11 pm (UTC)