#escaping reality briefly and floating in the clouds

[certifiedceraunophile]

Just came up with the most INSANELY amazing plot bunny I have ever had the honor of harbouring in my glitter graveyard...........like it’s SO GOOD YÁLL I’M GONNA CRY

and it’s for my wife @bellemorte180 and jfc this is the most fun I’ve ever had plot bunnying, Erica and I have decided to keep mum on the details but basically it all started with me desperately wanting Caroline to commit mass and I mean massively MASS genocide against humanity and enlist the originals help for the same and I just didnt know how to do that though.....like what could possibly be the reason and so I started working backwards from genocide went to a lot of disturbing places along the way but finally ended w Caroline as an xyz Earth Goddess (not yet sure on the mythology) who’s been slumbering for the past 3-4 millenniums and has now woken up to the utter shitshow that is humanity and our world-wide war against Mother Nature, and Caroline is pissed at how humans have essentially destroyed large chunks of her planet irrevocably and are continuing to do the same to the rest, so she starts a series of plagues that basically makes human’s drop dead like flies all over the world, I’m not gonna say more bc that will give away too much but Klaus falls for Caroline w/o knowing she’s the earth goddess who’s doing all of this and the feral shit that he is, after learning that Caroline is actually the earth goddess he’s a tiny bit cautious of an unbeatable being, a little bit amused that she’s committing mass genocide in the most organized colour coded binder with laminated flash cards way possible, a LOT horny at the absolute livid divinity of her and just largely still nicely whipped and smitten for her bc seriously tho why wouldnt he be I mean he doesnt bloody care for humanity as long as all the art and music and culture is preserved which obviously Caroline does, she’s not an uncultured plebe tyvm and is very happy going on murder sprees with his favourite goddess as humans die right left and centre. 

like yes yes its a bit depraved but erica enjoys it and its a gift for her and I always have loved a healthy dose of massacres and mass murdering in the content I consume so no really we are not taking criticism 

BUT THAT’S NOT EVEN THE PART I’M MOST EXCITED FOR AND OH MY GOD I CANT REVEAL WHAT PART I AM ACTUALLY EXCITED FOR BECAUSE IT’S LITERALLY EVERYTHING GOOD AND tiny AND BRIGHT IN THIS WRLD

And jfc I can’t stop Dreaming about this and plotting it in my head and just RUNNING around with it, and oh god Erica loves it so much (w good reason) and I am just giddy with how insane this idea is and just how much I love it for it

asdfghjkl I’m smiling so wide and literally buzzing with excitement fr it it’s making me lose sleep like please I need this in my life this instant.

But really though the BEST fandom experience ever according to me is plot bunnying w your friends shooting ideas back and forth and just *ded-ing* every two seconds over how absolutely MAGNIFICENT the ideas are

I got to sound board Erica’s newest upcoming work The Machiavellian the past two weeks or so (Erica noticed that I spelt it right just for you) and DUDE IT’S LITERALLY THE BEST FANFIC IDEA I HAVE HEARD IN AGES like oh my god *bites fist* IT’S SO FUCKING AMAZING like Erica’s brain is a WONDER and I am in awe bc it’s literally EVERYTHING YOU WOULD EVER WANT IN A CRIME THRILLER AU

Like this is the kind of fic that would be made into a movie that all top actors  in the industry would FIGHT for a chance to act in...........like No seriously and sincerely tho it’s so good and intricate and nuanced and just ties up together so perfectly and just SO SMART like it is so fucking SMART I have an intellectual boner for my wife, LIKE DUDE THE DETAILS  The DETAILS are fucking ELEGANT and Erica’s gonna be such a teasing lil shit in this one, teasing and riling up the readers with clues and hints that only serve to make you HUNGER for the truth just like in wanderlust, like dude she is gonna be MEAN stingy with the deets until the grand reveal and OH MY GOD THE GRAND REVEAL IS GONNA BREAK US ALL Like I legit see everyone going WTF I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING AT ALL BUT THANK YOU FOR BITCH SLAPPING ME WITH IT ANYWAYS

And also also oh my god the slow burn 🥺💀💀THE SLOW BURN WE ARE GONNA LIVE AND DIE IN JFC My soul will not survive Caroline and Klaus being super Badass private underground agents (of a sort) on a damn MISSION the slowest barest of lingering touches the heart to hearts the constant teetering and dangling on the precipice of something so unimaginably new great and EPIC....the REPRESSION THE PINING THE SLOW FUCKING BURN  jfc I might combust if someone does not throw a bucket of water at me Like dude I’ve read the outline there’s like no way I’m gonna survive this heart stirringly beautiful slow exploration between them.

Like this idea is so good it has not left my mind in DAYS and I am DROWNING in it and Erica has done such a fine job outlining it and reading through the outline yelling at her every time she blows my brain into a hundred buzzing pieces I can only say the plot is so GORGEOUSLY intricate and complex and nuanced and just LAYERED and honestly if anybody can pull off such a complex plot it’s Erica and I JUST CANT CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT FOR THIS BABY LIKE OH MY GOD  LISTENING TO YOUR FAV AUTHORS COMING UP WITH YET ANOTHER UNRELENTINGLY BRILLIANT IDEA IS AN *EXPERIENCE* AND I AM HONOURED TO HAVE BEEN A PART OF IT.

And now plot bunnying again for my own idea with her has AGAIN given me something I am seriously seriously EXCITED enough to sincerely work on for the first time in AGES and I am fucking HIGH w it like please sir this idea is gonna suffocate me with the feels

eenyways yeah so that’s what I’m internaly screaming about instead of studying bc I’m just so giddily excited for both the ideas I had to come leave an unedited chaotic word vomit here and like seriously tho I’m bouncing in my seat this is gonna kill me slowly and perfectly I just know it like I just do and I am HERE FOR IT.

[stratiotis-nth]

The few times Cas spoke about his true form, Dean had always imagined some terrifying robed creature with a bazillion heads and rotating rings and fifty giant wings from different animals. He imagined mighty beings that embodied the idea of God’s warriors. Cas once said his true form was size of the Chrysler building, and Dean had had to hide just how impressive the angel was despite looking and acting like a total dork. Cas as Cas was intimidating enough, but Castiel—the Chrysler-sized warrior of divinity—sounded terrifying and majestic all at the same time.

But apparently, Cas had omitted a few details. He had neglected to tell Dean that little bits of his true form lingered with him while he was in human form, some additions that couldn’t be seen but existed with him in another plane of reality.

So imagine Dean’s shock when he’s on a case and accidentally uses the holy fire glasses in his insurance company disguise. He didn’t even realize the difference until Cas joined him and Sam to help.

They were dealing with a Shifter who had been killing old people in a wealthy neighborhood in upstate New York. Cas, a fully functioning angel again, had offered to help when Sam and Dean realized they were up against a Shifter duo instead of a loner.

Sam was out getting grub when Cas appeared in the motel room with a whoosh of wings. Dean knew how much Cas had missed flying, and even he had missed hearing him announce his presence with that characteristic whoosh.

“Hey Cas.” Dean greeted without looking up from the laptop.

“Hello, Dean.” Was the usual response. He flicked his gaze up to Cas briefly, peering over the rim of the glasses he hadn’t bothered taking off. Dean did a double take when he caught a flash of black within the glasses’ lens. Frowning, he pushed the frames up his nose until he could squint through them properly. A sharp intake of breath caught in his throat.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice floated through his mind but he couldn’t process it. He stared at the Castiel revealed through the lens, abso-fucking-lutely floored.

A pair of black wings, ones Dean had only ever seen the shadow or scorched remains of before, were folded neatly against Cas’ back. As the afternoon sunlight hit the feathers, Dean could see them shimmering and reflecting all the colors of the rainbow subtly. The feathers looked spun of night sky and stardust, light as clouds but dense and powerful was cooling lava. Dean had a really, really strong urge to run his fingers through them. They looked like they’d make his fingers tingle with lightning.

Alongside the wings, the other newly revealed part of Cas was his halo. He had never mentioned one before, so Dean had just assumed halos were just another one of those things crazy Christians made up. But apparently, angels did had halos, because there was a thin ring of glowing light surrounding Cas’ head like a circlet, hovering above his ears and just a few inches away from his hair and forehead. It gleamed an ethereal pale gold, almost white, light. As he looked at it closer, he noticed a few gaps in the ring, like jagged cracks where pieces had fallen away. Were they supposed to be like that?

Dean was so shocked that he wondered how the hell he was even seeing these parts of Cas now. It took him a moment for his sluggish brain to piece together that he must had accidentally taken the holy fire glasses instead of another fake pair.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

He blinked, still taking in the halo and wings, and cleared his throat. Cas was frowning at him in concern, his head tilted adorably to the side. The halo drifted and followed a half second behind his movement.

“Uh—“ a strangled noise escapes Dean’s throat. His fingers itched to dig themselves into those feathers, to trace that halo and try to feel the warmth of light. He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Are there supposed to be cracks in that thing?”

Cas blinked at him, thoroughly confused. A split second later, his face both flushed and paled at the same time. Dean worried the sudden blood flow would make him pass out, but then he remembered Cas was an angel.

“Those glasses have been burned in holy fire, haven’t they?” He asked, his wings tucking more firmly against his back like he was trying to hide them.

“Uh, uh yeah.” He stammered, wondering if he should say something to ease Cas’ obvious insecurity. “Grabbed ‘em by accident.”

Cas shuffled his feet awkwardly, the light of his halo dimming shyly. He obviously wasn’t going to offer any information unless Dean pressed a little more.

“So?” He managed to sound somewhat casual, even though his heart was beating loudly in his ears. “What’s with the missing pieces?”

“Ah.” Cas rumbled in his low voice. He avoided Dean’s eyes, his chipped halo floating after every movement of his head. “Well, to angels, the halo represents purity and devotion to God. It is the manifestation of each angel’s divinity. When Lucifer rebelled against Heaven, his halo was shattered as a sign of disgrace and he was banished to Hell. Other angels like Gabriel and Anna had a chip broken off because they rejected Heaven and their loyalties were to their own well-being. Angels cannot exist fully if their halos are damaged, but because Gabriel was an archangel and Anna became human, they were exceptions.”

Dean frowned. But Cas had way more than one piece missing and he was still alive and still an angel.

“So how come you’re still around?” He asked, waving a hand at Cas’ cracked halo.

“Because I was created already broken.” The words, delivered in a flat, emotionless tone, still cut through Dean’s heart. That wasn’t true. Cas wasn’t broken. He was just Cas. Perfectly fine the way he was. “As you have heard from many angels and Chuck himself, I came off the line with a crack in my chassis. I was created to be flawed.”

“Cas…” Dean began, trying to find the words to tell him that it wasn’t true, that everything Naomi and Chuck had told him was a lie.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Cas said gently, glancing at him for the first time since the conversation started. “When Jack restored me to my full power I asked to keep the cracks I bear. Not as an punishment.” he added, somehow interpreting the frown flashing across Dean’s face. “but as proof that angels can exist with their flaws and still do good things. That they can still protect humanity, as was their reason for existence.”

Well, when he put it that way, Dean really couldn’t protest. It was very Cas-like of him to not give a single fuck about being perfect and defying everything anyone has ever known by doing it his way.

“But I am sorry.”

That made Dean snap his head up sharply, looking at Cas in surprise.

“For what?” He asked incredulously.

“For forcing you to see me like this.” Cas’ wings spread out momentarily before being tucked tightly against his back again, hiding their magnificence from Dean. He hated that. He hated that Cas thought Dean wouldn’t want to see him like this, one step closer to his true form, to the real Castiel. “I understand it was undoubtedly shocking and unsettling, but if I could hide these parts of myself from those glasses, I would for your sake.”

“No.” Dean snapped vehemently, jumping to his feet and jabbing a finger at Cas. He hated that Cas believed the things he was saying. How could he not be awestruck by him, by his beautiful wings and perfectly flawed halo? “Shut the fuck up, Cas.”

Cas’ face fell even further than before, the corners of his mouth ticking down and his eyes falling downcast. He looked so…rejected. It cut right through Dean’s heart again, and he scrambled to fix it before they fell victim to miscommunication again.

“Cas.” Dean said firmly, ducking down to catch his gaze. Like a moth to light, that piercing blue gaze fixed on green and followed them up. “I ain’t unsettled. Shocked, but in a really good way.”

Cas looked frowned, confused. Dean plowed on.

“Dude, don’t be ashamed of who you are. Your wings and halo…they look awesome, man. Seriously. You look badass.”

Cas’ lips parted in shock. Dean nervously fidgeted with a pen he had forgotten was in his hands, tapping it against his palm as he struggled to find the right words.

“You ain’t broken or flawed—you’re just Cas. My—“

Best friend didn’t cut it anymore. They had gone through too much together to be best friends. Brothers didn’t sit right either. Dean didn’t feel the same things for Cas as he did Sam (it made him shudder in disgust just thinking about his little brother like that). Dean knew what it was like to lose Cas and Sam—Sam, he had lost his family, his blood. Cas, Dean had lost a part of his soul.

“—you’re my—“

Dean wanted—needed—to say the words. But nothing fit, nothing felt right. No word could describe just what Cas was to him.

“—you’re my angel, Cas. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Cas just stared at him with another one of those soul searching gazes. Even when he was human, Dean felt he could still see straight through him, searching for deception or lies and every time never finding one.

There was a small, awed smile on Cas’ face, and before Dean could register what was happening, Cas gently cupped the back of his neck and pulled Dean down. Soft, chapped lips pressed briefly against his forehead, warm and sweet and grateful. They were gone a moment later, and so was Cas’ hand.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly after a while. “I appreciate it.”

Dean blinked and nodded stiffly. His entire body was shaking, aching to feel that warmth again. “Don’t…yeah, don’t mention it, Cas. I just…you gotta know the truth.”

Cas’ wings were fluffed up a bit, and they twitched against his back like they were itching to spread out. His halo was glowing much brighter than before, matching his smile.

“I have always been honored to be by your side, Dean, but it is nice to hear that you consider me yours.”

There was a lump in his throat that muted his voice. He nodded, shivering when he felt the cool, electrified tingling brush of a feather run down his arm and the warmth of light as Cas’ halo grew brighter.

“Always have. Cas.” He murmured, staring down at the pen clutched between his trembling fingers. He could feel Cas’ smile grow, and the primary feather of his wings brushed against his arm with a little more intent.

“As have I.” His response was so quiet that Dean almost didn’t hear it. But a shiver ran down his spine nonetheless. There was something different in the air, now that there were these confessions in the open. It wasn’t quite like a straightforward declaration that Dean was Cas’ and Cas was Dean’s, but it was pretty damn close. It was just a soft, gentle confirmation of how they had felt about each other since Cas pulled Dean from Hell all those years ago.

The quiet, peaceful moment between them was effectively shattered when they both heard the motel door open and Sam come barging through. They both jumped apart. They might have confessed…something between them…but that didn’t mean they were at all comfortable letting Sam see them in such an intimate moment.

“Uhhh…” Sam came to an abrupt halt as he took in Dean and Cas all but throwing themselves in opposite directions. “did I…?”

“No.” both Dean and Cas said quickly. They faltered and fell silent. Sam glanced between them hesitantly, like they were a bomb about to go off. Dean peeked over at Cas, noticing how his wings were fluffed up almost twice their size, his cheeks burning when he noticed Dean had noticed.

“Riiiight.” Sam said. “Well…there’s uh…been another body. I was gonna grab you and go…?”

“Yeah.” Dean said immediately, straightening up. “Let’s go.”

Cas looked like he wanted to protest—or force Sam to leave so they could deal with twelve years of tension—but Dean pointedly sent a prayer his way.

Tonight. Promise.

Cas’ wings fluffed up even more, his halo’s light shone so brightly it poked Dean’s eyes, and his face was redder than a tomato.

Dean grinned before grabbing his keys.

“See ya at the crime scene, angel.” He said before ducking out of the motel room.

“Is Cas okay?” Sam asked when they were in Baby.

“Oh yeah.” Dean grinned smugly, already looking forward to tonight. “He’s definitely okay.”

He’s got a chipped halo and beautiful wings that had once been burned to bone.

He’s Dean’s angel. He’s perfect.

[sexysilverstrider]

Burning Ambition (Teppeilumi)

  Everything was dark.

  Stench of spit and blood filled the room. His vision was terrible blur, he could only make out faded images of the ceiling above. A gulp was attempted. A painful cringe was obtained. Breathing grew harsher, weaker. Heartbeat became slower, quieter.

  How amusing.

  As one lone figure lay breathless on the cot, a sudden smoke of black and deep red loomed next to him.

  Huh, was all the smoke hummed. Two slits formed on the entity, colours a demonic crimson. It witnessed the pitiful being. The other patients around it were fighting for their lives as well, completely unaware of the existence that had solidified next to the aging soldier.

  It had no mouth, yet a smile formed inside the flickering smoke.

  The poor soldier was on his last seconds. Once he drew out his fifth breath, all that would be left was a disgusting corpse.

  One breath.

  You are nothing but a pitiful mortal… A silent echo whirred into the soldier’s ears. The shadow hovered closer, looking down at the dying man.

  Two breaths.

  You lack motivation. The two slits widened, crazed as it glared at him. You lack perseverance. And for that, you do not deserve my attention. The darker line below the slits shook, cracked to what one could guess was an eerie smile.

  Three breaths.

  However, It’s ‘smile’ widened, you attract the traveler’s interest. The shadow tilted slightly. The man wheezed weakly.

  Four breaths.

  And I—The shadow reached out for his right hand—am interested in the traveler.

  Five—

----------

  This couldn’t be possible.

  “O-Oi!” Paimoun shouted, body floating as fast as it can to catch up. “Wait—Wait up!” she wheezed, one tiny hand reaching for her fast friend. And yet Lumine didn’t hear her. She couldn’t. For her mind was wholly clouded by the shocking news that was brought up by Gorou.

  “Her Excellency saw it with her own eyes and even did a full check-up on him.” Gorou’s words shrilled clear like a siren. “She even used her healing abilities to ensure that…you know…he’s not an undead or possessed.” His statement only made her run faster and faster.

  Minutes felt eternal, and when Lumine finally arrived at the headquarters in Sangonomiya, she wasted no time and slammed the doors open.

  The scene she made caused shock and confusion to both soldiers and locals alike. All eyes were on her, but a pair of dazzling golden starlight were on the man at the far end of the headquarters.

  Him.

  “Teppei!”

  Once his name escaped her lips. Once those warm brown eyes met her own. Lumine could feel her legs give out and her body flashing forward.

  Even with a gift bestowed upon him, never would he have anticipated the traveler’s tackle.

  “Oof!” His body was thrown aback, yet awareness and newfound strength allowed him to stand his ground instead of falling on his butt. Arms spread open. Eyes widened immediately. Legs shaking still from the impact, Teppei quickly tried to straighten his back with someone hugging him for dear life.

  “You’re alive…”

  Her voice was muffled, breathing brushed against the material of his shirt. “I—what?” Bafflement still bursting in his mind, he tilted his head downwards. All he saw was a sight of golden blonde. All he smelled was a scent of warmth and wind.

  “You’re alive!” Without warning, Lumine snapped her head upwards, meeting his shocked gaze. “You’re alive!” Statement now booming with baffled laughter, Lumine once more nuzzled her face into his chest.

  The scent was tickling his nose. Burning red in his cheeks.

  “I uh—” Realization kicked in; they were very, very close. “I-I am!” Words sputtered into a stutter, Teppei gave two thumbs up with arms still spread to the side.

  Laughter bubbled within her chest, tickling his own.

  He prayed that she didn’t hear his manic heartbeat.

  “I’m so glad…”

  The laughter was short-lived, however, as her voice lulled to a whisper. “Traveler?”

  “So…so glad…” Her hug tightened. Voice now broken to a slow, woeful murmur. “I’m glad…” A strain scraped through gritted teeth. Golden eyes were squeezed shut to prevent a fearful sight.

  A short gasp popped her lips to feel his embrace.

  “I’m glad too…” His voice was a gentle whisper, meek and shaky. “Very, very glad…”

  Cheek rested against his chest, Lumine pursed her lips and released a heavy sigh. “Mmm…” His arms felt hesitant around her petite body at first, but fear dissolved into relief once she felt his hug tighten.

  “Aww!”

  Relief, however, exploded into wild embarrassment once they realized they weren’t alone.

  Immediately both broke their hug, faces now flushed red and hearts thumping wildly against their ribcages. A pair of golden and brown targeted towards the two people standing before them. One had his face covered and body shaking in silent amusement. The other had her hands clapped and positioned adorably next to her cheek.

  “I’m so happy to see that smile back on your face, traveler!” Kokomi gleamed, her smile sincere yet laced with a hint of mirth. Gorou still had his face covered, though it seemed that his fit of giggles had ceased—for now.

  Ah, what a fool she made herself to be.

  “W-Well,” Trying her best to dig out of her hole she had made, Lumine straightened her posture and cocked her head upwards. “Why wouldn’t I be? To know that my friend is alive is more than enough to make me—”

  “How dare you left Paimon at the back!”

  “Ack!”

  Alas, before Lumine could save face, she wasn’t able to realize and stop Paimon from crashing into her.

----------

  In all honesty, Teppei still thought that he had died and gone to heaven.

  “It’s…real.” Tap, tap. One finger gently tapped onto the glass of the Vision case. A simmering shape of fire burned brilliantly inside the object. The longer he held it, the more he could feel warmth sipping into his body. One hand holding the Vision, he flipped his other hand left and right.

  There were no wrinkles. No drained colours of deathly blue. The same warmth could be felt into his palm. The same pulse could be felt inside his veins.

  “Still reeling it in?”

  Her voice was a brilliant beacon that lit him up. “Uh—yeah!” The answer stuttered sheepishly, Teppei looked at the traveler. Her smile was ever present. Her eyes gleamed gloriously like stars that he often basked in awe.

  Those stars now shined closely to him.

  “I just…” It’s been an hour since their reunion. After witnessing a scolding from Paimon to Lumine and apologizing endlessly to Lady Kokomi and General Gorou, both he and the traveler decided to rest by the lake near the headquarters. Peace wasn’t an option yet, however, as the tiny, floating being started shooting endless questions that he still found no answers to.

  “You have a Vision now!? You’re a Pyro user?! Holy moly you can control fire! You got blessed by the Gods! How? When? And you look like you’re back to your real age! You’re no longer a withering, dying old man!”

  It was truthfully amazing how Lumine handled Paimon on a daily basis.

  After trying his best to give an explanation that might work, Paimon finally reached an understanding and let him breathe.

  That, or she was hungry which made her fly off to the kitchen to recharge herself for more questions later.

  Either way, Teppei was grateful for the silence.

  Now all that’s left were him and the traveler. And while he knew she had just as many questions as her small friend, he was just glad that she allowed him to recollect his thoughts first.

  It had been a good 20 minutes. Reality still hadn’t set in.

  “This is mine…right?” Once again he looked at her, eyes clouded in hope and fear. Will it disappear? Am I actually dreaming or dead and this is just my mind giving me one last mercy? These questions bounced in his mind from the moment he woke up from the agonizing slumber. “It’s—I’m not holding someone’s missing Vision, right…?”

  “Teppei.”

  His body shivered briefly to hear such a gentle tone.

  Pupils dilated to see her hand, small yet callous, cupping his left hand. Quickly he looked at her again, not realizing that he had dropped his gaze back at the Pyro Vision.

  Her smile was radiant as the sun.

  “That is yours.” Reassurance sang melodiously into his ears. Her fingers curled his own, cupping the warm Vision closer. “You have a Vision.” Distance became a mere hindrance to her, so Lumine scooted closer. It was then that she saw his hair, dark as the day she first met him. His cheeks were rosy. His eyes shined brightly. No wrinkles cursed his skin. No fades of pale blue scrapped his face.

  He looked back to how he was before. Better even.

  Giddiness bubbled within her again. Though caution and confusion loomed inside her brain at the possible impossible, Lumine decided to gulp those fears down first and rejoiced at his living.

  Living. Alive.

  “You’ve received favours from the Gods.”

  It took a while for Teppei to get used to his new powers.

  While those words stung her tongue, clawed through her throat, what matters to her right now was that he was alive.

----------

  One couldn’t hone it so magnificently in a span of a day after receiving a Vision. Though Lumine wouldn’t know; she technically never gotten one.

  But as a month rolled by, and after rejoicing with his friends and teammates, Teppei easily bounced back as Captain of Herring I. Excitement fuelled his veins once he finally got the chance to wear his new uniform. A small logo in shape of a herring was stitched at the back, bare and open so proudly for everyone to see. His teammates now somewhat revered him as a miracle who came back from the jaws of death. And while a part of him felt bashful and slightly proud of the statement, Teppei knew he couldn’t gloat—at least, not too much.

  This was a gift by the Gods, after all. He was grateful. Truly. Whether or not the Vision he received granted him what was once stolen by the Delusion, Teppei knew this was something that shouldn’t be taken so lightly. Or rudely.

  A few more weeks flew by, and as a Vision bearer, he was now given a special task to train and hone his powers. And while that didn’t seem like a problem—in fact, Teppei was more than excited to train with General Gorou and Kazuha—he did feel the nerves kicking in when Lumine volunteered to join in the practice as well.

  “Alright!” Her right hand reached forward; immediately, her sword appeared seemingly out of nothing. “Show me what you got, partner!”

  Ba-dump!

  He really needed to have a talk with his heart later about the traveler calling him that.

  “Right!” Enthusiasm and anxiety spiralled together, Teppei hovered hands close to each other. Slowly, he tried to manifest the weapon into his hands. Apparently, according to General Gorou, Vision bearers were able to dissolve their weapons with their powers, enabling an easy access to it especially when they’re in a pinch. When Teppei heard of this fun fact, he was over the moon; what a very coincidentally accessible way!

  However, it was easier said than done.

  It took many, many, many tries. And finally, after a…few failed attempts, he was able to conjure up his lance.

  It took a few seconds—better than a few minutes, Teppei figured—the weapon finally materialized in his hands. “Got it!” Like a puppy, he beamed. Flickers of flame swerved around the lane, yet Teppei felt no pain.

  If anything, he felt elated.

  Never one to give up or step down, he concentrated again. This time, patience and practice showed its results as ribbons of fire wrapped around the lance. They decorated every so prettily, tickling his arm. Careful as to not position his lance near anyone besides his opponent, he posed a battle stance.

  “Ready when you are—” Brown eyes stared at her. His battle posture ready. His heartbeat sang madly. “—partner!”

----------

  Sometimes, he needed to remind himself that his own flames couldn’t technically hurt him.

  It was amazing. Jaw-dropping. Stunning even that he could stare at it for days. The tiny flicker of flames danced on his palms, hypnotizing him with such a sight. He curled one finger. Then another and another. His fingers went thru the fire. It gave such a tickling warmth, soothing both his palms and heart.

  “Heh…” A quiet chuckle peeped through smiling lips. Sitting alone by the lake, he slowly curled his fists, extinguishing the flames within. It tickled, he thought. Once again, he opened his hands, revealing clear skin that bore flesh, not bones.

  His heartbeat raced. Excitement. Fear. All whirled in his mind. Silently, he took a deep breath, then exhaled carefully as if relishing on each breath that coursed through his throat.

  He was alive. Living.

  Everything could change in a blink.

  Bringing that reminder close to his heart, Teppei nodded once. A new resolution formed firm. Stronger. Clearer. If this truly was a gift by the Gods. If this was truly a test he needed to fulfil and succeed, then he must carry on.

  Yes. One fist raised in the air. A smile curled confidently under the shine of the moonlight. I can do this!

  As one man basked on his goal, one woman stood from afar, hiding behind a tree and gazing at him with eyes a woeful glow and lips a tight purse.

  “Gift by the Gods.”

  The words sent a shiver down her spine. Burned fire in her chest.

  Gratitude burst brightly every time she saw him. But Lumine knew: not everything came without a price.

  The Archons she had met so far were nice, welcoming—although Ei had a rough start when they first met, both were slowly moving forward together to fix the future. But that was the thing that concerned Lumine the most.

  Not everyone would be sensible and sweet like Venti and Zhongli. And even with them, after having met Dainsleif and the unfortunate reunion with her dear brother, Lumine had to keep her guard up.

  He looked so happy. So alive.

  Ba-dump…

  One hand placed where her heart ached.

----------

  Some Vision bearers honed their powers until they were able to conjure up new skills. Some were able to form powerful shields. Some were able to heal and cure. Some even had the power to freeze even the mightiest of hilichurl chieftains.

  In Teppei’s case, he would soon find out that skills were sometimes found or created when one was put in a desperate situation.

  “Watch out!”

  All happened too fast. The moment he saw a samurai plunging his way towards her, Teppei could feel the wind and rain against his face. He saw Lumine turning around to face the enemy. He saw Lumine swinging her sword in hopes that it slices the samurai before his own could slice her.

  While he was not as fast as the traveler, he was quick enough to reach out for her.

  Quickly he tugged her left arm. Taken aback by the sudden force, Lumine felt her body being pulled backwards. Everything happened in mere blinks. Panic sinking in, Teppei stomped one foot forward—

  FWOOM!

  CLANG! CRASH!!

  A burst of fire shaped around them. The ringing clash of steel against solid fire reverberated amidst the heavy rain.

  The impact clearly took the samurai by surprise. The newly-formed shield ironically took Teppei’s and Lumine;s breaths away.

  Golden met brown. Stupor froze their body still. The shield was still active, still enveloped around them like a dome of flames. Lumine gawked at the tall captain, awe and bewilderment being her method of communication. It seemed Teppei understood her language, for both now shared their speechless conversation under the brilliant dome.

  “Um…” he gulped. “You alright?”

  She blinked once. Twice. “Yeah!” Laughter burst out amidst the stupor. “I’m fine!” One to easily register reality quickly around her, Lumine readied her battle stance again. The shield around them burned brighter. As eyes inspected the area around her, she realized that the same samurai that attacked just now started to stagger and stumble. His sword sheathed into the ground. Though donned in a helmet, Lumine could see him crouch slightly as if he was trying to catch his breath.

  He didn’t get hit by anything else after that. And the impact wasn’t as severe. If Lumine remembered correctly, the samurai only crashed against Teppei’s shield—

  Another realization jolted in. And her guess was swiftly proven correct as she felt an aura of strength pumping into her veins.

  It would seem Teppei would be excited to learn his newfound ability.

  For now, as both captains locked eyes and nodded, Lumine decided to break the great news later after they finished this battle.

----------

  Sangonomiya was truly a breath-taking place.

  Giant shells that stood proudly in the center of the land. Waterfalls that shined and gleamed every time it hit the surface. Even the lake was a like a beautiful mirror, revealing clear images of those who look upon it.

  However, as beautiful as the place was, it did have one flaw when it came to nightly weather.

  Maybe Ei was feeling at peace after their little tour, which would explain the soothing wind that blew past her. And while Lumine was happy to know that that might be case, unfortunately, her body would say otherwise.

  “Hey there, traveler!”

  Her head turned at the voice. Golden eyes caught the sight of the lone soldier who kept dancing in her mind lately. “Hi,” was her reply, short and sweet, yet enough to ring a bell of joy at his presence.

  Her bliss was a reflection to his.

  “May I join in?” His directed his hand at the empty spot next to her. A giggle was heard. A shaken head was seen. Smile curling swirls at the corners, Teppei took a seat on the bench. “Where’s your flying friend?”

  “Sleeping.” Another short reply, but not curt. Her head turned to one of the tents in the camp. “She had a big dinner so decided to call it a night.”

  “I see.” Brown eyes glanced at the tent, then back at her. “Why are you still up, though?” Curiosity led him to the question, but he didn’t realize how rude he might have sounded before he could stop himself. Teppei then flustered to see her eyes widen, probably offended, probably hurt that he thought she was some sort of child.

  “W-Wait, no I mean—” Both hands raised and waved. “I was just curious since we kinda had a long day and—”

  Laughter ceased him from making a further fool of himself.

  “It’s okay, Teppei.” One hand that stayed near her mouth slowly lowered down to her lap. “I understand. I just don’t feel sleepy yet.” The smile on her face grew genuine. It always seemed to be whenever he was around. “I just want to enjoy the night a little longer. I have a lot of energy compared to Paimon, anyways.”

  The joke got through him. A laughter was given as a response.

  “If she heard you, she would be mad.”

  “Which is why I’m saying it to you.”

  How light her chest felt whenever she talked to him.

  The conversation came smoothly. Teppei talked about his daily task as captain. Lumine responded with topics of her commissions and part-time role as captain as well. While the matter with Raiden Shogun had been resolved, there were still some internal conflicts that required attention. Lumine knew it would take some time to figure out a way to get to Sumeru, so she figured she might as well stay in Inazuma for a while. Who knows? Maybe she would find more information about her brother—

  “Achoo!”

  “Traveler?”

  A sneeze broke their conversation and her thoughts. “O-Oh,” she sniffed, “sorry. It just gets a bit cold in Sangonomiya that I kinda forgot to bring a coat.” Hands rubbed her prickling arms. Yet she didn’t feel like getting up. Not now. Lumine enjoyed talking to Teppei. The stress in Inazuma sometimes got to a point where it was unbearable, and the Herring I captain was one of the people who was able to lighten the burden in her chest.

  It seemed Teppei had the same idea about her as well.

  “Oh…” Thoughts whirled in his mind. Suddenly, an idea flickered in seconds. “I can go get a coat for you if you like! Don’t want my partner to be sick now, huh.” He laughed, cheerful and honest. Hands pressed on the bench, he started to get up. “I’ll be right back—”

  “Wait.”

  His body froze at the feel of her hand around his fingers.

  Brown and gold looked at their hands. Brown and gold then looked at each other.

  “Ah!”

  In unison, they gasped. Lumine immediately retracted her hand while Teppei dumbly plopped himself back onto the bench.

  “You don’t have to!” Heat kissed her cheeks as their roles were now reversed. “I’m not that cold. And besides, ever since you started sitting down, it actually feels warmer—”

  Foolish was an act that bounced back between the two.

  Realization kicked in. Fast. It was obvious in the blown pupils of his eyes. It was clear in the beautiful burst of red in her face.

  Sadly, Teppei was quite quick to catch up on things too. “R-Really?”

  Slim fingers curled slowly. Hands were still raised near eye-level. “Well…” Ah fuck it, she thought. “Really.” She figured there was no harm in being honest. Maybe some shame. “Maybe it’s because of your Vision, but you feel a bit…warmer than normal people.” Thankfully, she had seen and faced this sort of phenomenon with Amber and Xiangling. Although she technically had never hugged Diluc, the man did once offer her his jacket. And wearing it felt warm and toasty, so that was good enough research for her.

  His short laughter brought her attention back to him.

  “I do feel warmer than usual ever since I woke up from that long sleep.” A sheepish reply accompanied the growing red in his cheeks. “But I make sure this time that it wasn’t anything dangerous. Her Excellency said that it’s normal for a Pyro user like me to have some extra body heat.” White teeth gleamed beneath the moon’s glow. “You can say that I’m like a walking heater.”

  More laughter joined in, but it was one-sided this time.

  “Then…may I sit closer?”

  The laughter died down immediately, bafflingly.

  He couldn’t believe what she said. She couldn’t believe what she said.

  “If that’s alright with you…?” The question was timid, sheepish, bursting with shame. Lumine was ready to bolt off the bench and excuse herself for the night. Why would she ask him that, she wondered? The man was of pure heart ever since she met him. He was an honest friend, an enthusiastic one at that. Like most of the people she had met, Teppei’s intentions were true and genuine which became the very reason she was getting close to him—

  “I…don’t mind.”

  The wild tornado of feelings in her mind died down once she heard his reply.

  Those golden eyes were no match for the stars above. “Really?”

  Excitement was real in her tone. The sight of pure joy made his heart burst anew. “Really…” He sounded sheepish, bashful, yearning. One breath. Maybe two. Once he reassured himself that he was calm and collected, Teppei scooted closer. “It’s the least I can do for my partner.”

  She always hated how her heart cracked to hear that term.

  Sorrow was short-lived, hidden behind layers and layers of relief that she practiced over the centuries. “Thank you.”

  He always loved how his heart skipped a beat to see her smile.

  Slowly, the distance between then shrunk. Only an inch teased between their pinkie fingers. In seconds, Lumine could feel the warmth—his warmth. It truly felt soothing. Calming. Yet it also gave her a tiny surge of strength that tickled her stomach. She loved it. She adored it.

  She only wished she had more time to cherish it.

  “Thank you, Teppei…” Her voice mellowed. “For showing me around the Resistance. For helping me out in battles.” Silence was his response. A welcome for her to say further. “For pushing me to end this terrible Vision Hunt Decree.”

  His left fingers clenched rigidly next to her.

  “For coming back alive and well…” Her voice started to get slower. “For inspiring me…” Her eyes started to get heavier. “For cheering me up when I feel…down…” Her head bobbed forward. “For…” A yawn broke out, “being there…”

  Body acting out of reflex, Lumine leaned her head against his left arm.

  Her actions stunned him back to reality. As she talked to him—as if she was talking to herself—Teppei felt hypnotized. Brown eyes were fixed on her like trance. Healthy heartbeat skipped at the sound of her melodious voice. It wasn’t until he felt her body so close to him that Teppei almost jumped with face full of red.

  Silence hummed around them.

  The captain looked at her, entranced and bewitched by such a sight. “That’s a lot of thanks, partner…” Voice a shy murmur, he brought his free hand up to his face. A long sigh escaped his lungs. His right hand remained on half of his face as he stared forward.

  His whole body felt as if he was burning.

  Brown eyes glanced at the sleeping traveler next to him.

  But honestly, His left fingers twitched, stretched until his hand held her right hand, it doesn’t feel bad.

  The mad drumming of his heart echoed in his ears. The soothing sound of her voice kissed heat in his cheeks and neck.

  It doesn’t feel bad at all.

  “Sweet dreams, Lumine…” His left hand gently squeezed her right hand. His face slowly leaned closer to her to memorize every detail, to cherish every moment he had with this fated encounter.

  Ah, he thought, smile soft and shaky, I’m in trouble…

END

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Lavinia angst, possibly a first kiss.

Written by @evoedbd

Part 1

WARNINGS:

Minor Violence.

Mentions of Blood.

Minor Spoilers.

Somewhat OOC.

+++++++++++++++++++

Lavinia’s words haunted Lee, echoed across the darkness.  Tentative as her first step was, Lee seemingly found nothing to fear, no reason to believe her world would ever fall from beneath her. The black embodied so many things, all intrinsically understood.  They spoke to Lee, singing in a language she couldn’t recollect learning, at a pitch that her ears could not physically hear, yet it resonated within her chest. The mirror was cold, somehow rubbery, as if she were stepping onto a rug of silly putty.  Membrane across a throbbing answered by the heartbeat she guarded in her pocket.

Each step Lee took saw the maze fade, swept away like ink dropped into churning hot water. Floating like steam, the trees faded, swirling into the blackness surrounding.   The reflections cast upon the mirror almost called, a promise of safety if Lee would only turn and run for them.  A spiderweb there to catch her, should she fall.  Or perhaps ensnare her in their beauty, in the beauty uncertainty could offer. Stubborn, a solitary chance for escape.

Perhaps the spiderweb was what lingered within the crystal darkness. The Blackness, Lee noticed, did not lack for light.  It did not take the colour from what it reflected.  Merely… color did not exist within its depths.  A pure, clear darkness.  A backdrop to the world, despite it being the world Lee strode upon.  The centre of the mirror turned from black to frost, ice to a sorrowful field of snow.  Snow fell softly, seemingly without a source for not a cloud existed.  The flakes did not exist, and then they did, faster than a subconscious blink.  White flakes stark against the vibrant nothingness.

The falling snow formed an informal barrier, thicker to the edges. As thick as crushed ice from the freezer which fell like stones upon Lee’s unsuspecting body.   It blanketed her shoulders, falling upon them like the firm hands of some law enforcement.  A warden to a prisoner, a reticent threat that misbehaviour would be punished off the books.  The feeling sat heavy in Lee’s chest, even as the snow went from harsh to soft, from a vicious cry to silent tears against her tanned skin.  Malevolence returned to melancholy apathy.

The spiraling storm was tamed into strands of nacreous white, cascading down the strong expanse of lissom shoulders.  Even with such a willowy frame, Lavinia stood strong, too proud to let her body cave to the weakness within her heart.  The weight of her bulky cloak pulled on her, held around her shoulders only by the cage of Lavinia’s clasped hand, wrapped around her tender body as if it could conceal the youthful woman, could reinforce that this was a Queen standing tall within her court.  Could hide that the legend of destruction dared feel the melancholy of the pariahed existence she’d been deceitfully written into.

“Lavinia?” Lee pleaded gently, as if merely her words could destroy walls that had withstood sieges.  It seemed her plea was heeded, for Lavinia’s shoulders finally fell, caving a hairs width as the Queen heaved an almighty sigh.

“You should not have come here, little Lionstar.” Lavinia whispered.  Not that she need raise her voice.  The world had once more fallen quiet, leaving nothing save the Queen’s quiet voice to be heard.  Selfishly, Lee found herself grateful for the quiet, for she doubted her heart could have borne the weight of Lavinia’s tones had her voice been anything more. Regret tainted Lavinia’s tones, dragging the Queen to her knees without ever cowing her strong stance.  Lavinia did not need to move, not with the weight of her tones betraying her. Lee could hear the broken expression she knew she’d find upon Lavinia’s face as the Queen turned to her.

The burden of immortality pulled at Lavinia’s young features.  Features which had been young through too many wars.  A youth stolen yet aching to break free of the chains, the weight which continued to drag on her.  Even her almond shaped eyes, the sharpest aqua Lee had ever seen, seemed dulled under the shadows of her subtle brow, which had descended like stormclouds, darkened all the more by wisps of smoky eyeshadow and rebellious eyeliner.  As if makeup could contain the brewing storm.  It was a storm Lee had witnessed a thousand times, safe within the eye of such chaos, shielded from the worst of it even as Lavinia gushed warning after warning from full, crimson covered lips. Lips which were now so agonisingly downturned. Trembling like snow on the frail winds. Denied by the harsh set of her low sweeping jawline. Lavinia’s words of caution had always bled together in Lee’s ears, recklessly unheeded.  Now, Lee understood why her body refused to listen, to accept.  Nothing could have prepared Lee for what she saw.  The briefest flash of hope, a lightning strike, before the skies went dull.  The oceans froze.  The spark extinguished.

“You shouldn’t be here either.” Lee commented, keeping her voice as quiet as Lavinia’s had been.  At this, the Queen’s brow found some life, arching into a fine point as her lips twitched, a weak effort at one of her lazy smirks.

“Shouldn’t I be? Where else would I go that is safe from you?”

“Safe from me? Lavinia, we can work this out! I want-”

Before Lee could even comprehend the weight of Lavinia’s words, could complete her thought, Lavinia was there.  Stalking closer, voice that same terrifyingly piercing whisper, a croon as much as a mockery.

“Me?” Lavinia’s redundant question was met with a confirming silence.  Both women swallowed, staring at one another as if the other’s face might hold the answers they needed to such a potent question.  Lee’s silence was deafening.  The answer Lavinia sought and feared.  The answer Lee herself couldn’t understand enough to give. “Of course.” The Queen nodded, turning to begin a pensive pacing with the effortless grace of a wolf closing in on unsuspecting prey.

“It always comes back to me, doesn’t it? You’ve always wanted to be close to me. I’m what the star fallen to the earth truly wants.”

“What?” Lee breathed, denial on the tip of her tongue.  How Lavinia said those words. The sudden realisation dawning in her icy eyes, the raise in pitch, a note of wonder smothered beneath the derisive persona she aimed to keep so firmly in place. None of it sat well, in fact, every syllable saw Lee’s stomach tightening, a weight settling there. An uncomfortable stone she couldn’t dislodge, couldn’t ignore.  All she had was the potential of denial, yet a single look from the Ice Queen killed it in Lee’s throat.  Just what had Lavinia read from her eyes that had the Queen’s expression so… tormented?

“How do you want me, my little lion heart?” Lavinia seemed to beg behind her mockery, pleading the very fabric of reality for answers.

It was a flash, much like her hopes, a moment of indecision riding the undercurrents of care, and dare Lee think it, affection.  A rebellious little flicker of emotion that Lavinia crushed beneath the weight of whatever burdened her so.  A shift, something so very subtle yet impossible for Lee to ignore.  The Queen’s shoulders straightened, loosing the lazy slouch, posture as regal as the finest paintings depicted nobility.  She almost floated, every footsteps devouring the distance between her and Lee, much how the menacing slant of her lips promised Lee would find herself devoured if Lavinia’s hands landed on her.  A wolf stalking an injured fawn, letting the bleeding creature escape merely for the chance to continue the hunt.  The illusion of hope provided all for the predator to sweep away with an all too elegant sweep of crystalline talons.

“My weird, naive little book nerd? My star come to earth. What desire burns brighter than your senses? Who did you follow to this place where dreams fade to a nothingness to rival nightmares?” Lavinia queried scornfully, each nickname falling from her lips more potent than their potential affection.  They warred, even as they fell silken from her silver tongue, a clash of everything Lee had ever known of Lavinia laid out like a white carpet, only to be lost in the snows.  Lost in Lee’s growing discomfort.

“Stop.” Lee commanded, voice holding remarkably true despite how she staggered in the snow.  The Queen smirked at this, wicked amusement shattering the weight of her agony for a breath.  A breath stolen from Lee’s lungs as she righted herself.

“You’re acting strange, and for you that’s saying a lot.”

“Oh? Am I scaring you?” Lavinia’s ominous aura melted, warmed by an almost playful laugh low on a husky voice.  A tilt of her head, mirrored in a briefly uneven slant of her shoulders.  That same shift, the one that haunted Lee’s dreams.  The girl who played with matches in place of Winter’s chill.  How many people saw this?  How many understood what they saw in such a little gesture?  How many would give up their chance to put distance between themselves and the hunter to heed such a thing?  How many could ignore the chill of an icy wall against their shoulders, mixed with the heat of Lavinia’s breath against their cheeks in their moment of admiration?

“Has the cowardice infecting your heart returned so suddenly?”

Had it?  Lee trembled before the mystical being, trapped against a wall of ice by the mere risk of touching the Queen. Lee could break away, she could press into that unspoken space between them, challenge their roles… but she couldn’t.  Her body wouldn’t obey, her lungs wouldn’t take the air she desperately craved for fear her swelling breast might brush those iced furs.  That she might challenge and win, might drive her Queen away.  When had air become more sacrificial than Lavinia?   The fear claiming her breath was not healthy.  This wasn’t healthy.  To be so scared to lose somebody that she chose to stifle her breath.  She couldn’t do this, couldn’t let Lavinia bully her. She blinked, preparing to reclaim the space she’d forsaken, only to catch a movement in the corner of her gaze. The Rebel Queen’s hand rose, extended towards Lee��s cheek for the briefest of moments before she froze.  Winter in the Queen’s veins held her captive, the clarity of her vision disrupted by the gasp of the star within her snare.  Once more, the monarch seemed to have found herself at odds, fingers curling on air less she foolishly offer affection.  Less she reach for the warmth of a tanned cheek, or the softness of sun bleached curls. She swallowed; a gesture which looked as painful as forcing knives down the exposed column of her pale throat.

“I thought you had grown beyond that.” Nothing could have hidden the note of melancholy within Lavinia’s voice.  Not her attempts at a sneer, not the chill of her magic touching where her hand dared not.  Once more, her magic picked at Lee, little rodent claws tugging on the girl’s flesh.  Punishing Lee for Lavinia’s hesitance.  The girl bristled, brows furrowing as she inspected Lavinia’s face, close enough she could see the snowflakes powered in the Queen’s lashes.

“You don’t get to punish me because you’re scared.  You’re the one who ran away.” She gently challenged; caution lost to the rise of heat in her chest.  Her heart thumped rebelliously, warming her to the tips of her fingers.  Lee averted her gaze, not for fear of Lavinia’s, but to the Queen’s hand.  A hand still raised, curled into that image of forlorn restraint.  A hand that struck out, accompanied by nothing more but a harsh breath, nails biting into the ice beside Lee’s head, shattering the wall so violently that Lee staggered.  The human winced as she came down amidst the rubble, back bent across the misshapen bricks, knees caught over the rise.  It was then the Queen dared touch, the wrath of winter empowering her as those icy talons sunk through the material of Lee’s tie, through her shirt.  The Queen hauled Lee from her feet, effortlessly holding the shorter girl aloft in the grasp of her plagued vehemence.  

“You dare speak to me this way? As if you know me oh so well? Do you even know who it is you have chased to this place?”

There it was.  The lava beneath the icy surface.  Lee could only stare, trying to decipher the snarling beast before her. The violence of the gesture should have frightened Lee.  Should have had the girl scrambling in panic within the monster’s grasp.  Grovelling for her life.  Yet, Lavinia’s tone was so level, a practiced tune disguised in vicious resplendence.  Her intent was intimidation, yet her hand was so steady, the brush of her knuckles against Lee’s collar so cautious.  How could a monster hold such caution, have such awareness to disguise that caution?  Swallowing, Lee knew the answer.  It couldn’t.  That meant this was Lavinia, not some creature replacing her.  However far removed from the nihilist rebel, this was Lavinia.  This beast did not need to be deciphered, for Lee already knew her.  Lee held her heart, she had for nearly 18 years.  A heart that had been broken, raped and violated by betrayals of lust and logic.  A heart kept in pieces by worlds conspiring… a heart that rebelled against the chance that it might be loved in return.   Lavinia had to prove herself the monster.  She had to prove she could hurt Lee, that she could kill Lee.  She had to be strong enough, to drive everyone away, keep them out and away from the chasm her heart had left… But she couldn’t let Lee get away.  Couldn’t let the girl go, couldn’t keep her close, couldn’t love but couldn’t stop her heart’s betrayal within her own torn chest.  She was burning the possibility of a relationship at the stake, assassinating the goodwill between them, anything to keep Lee’s hands from her soul… all the while putting her soul in Lee’s waiting hands.  She was doing what she always did when her wounds were laid bare, lashing out, defending by driving all those nearby away.  Then she would never be hurt again, or worse, come to depend on another.   She wanted Lee to run, wanted Lee to be terrified of her… Lee refused to rise to the bait, choosing to speak soothingly, to gently lay her hand over Lavinia’s.

“You’re acting as if you’re two different people, Lavinia.”

Lavinia’s eyes widened, realising what she had done, what her explosiveness had almost cost her.  She’d almost failed to succeed, yet succeeded to fail.  It was Lavinia’s turn to tremble, to freeze and think, to process what this foolish girl within her grasp was doing.  It was so typical of Lee, to respond to cruelty with determined kindness, to risk herself to see Lavinia’s heart defrost.  Even a few droplets from the ice encasing her seemed worth everything to Lee, the foolish girl, the star fallen to earth.  The girl who tasted of magic and mortality, without ever having been beneath Lavinia’s tongue.  The girl who changed the very air around her, who accepted and welcomed Lavinia, who actively sought the lonely monarch out.  Lee was… too good.  Too pure.  Yet, she fell from grace to shine into Lavinia’s torment.  Sacrificed for the damned.  Once, Lavinia had believed that because Lee was unable to see the damnation.  Now, she fearfully suspected Lee saw her darnation better than any mortal ever had.  Saw it, considered it, then chose to ignore it.    Lavinia couldn’t make her see, couldn’t drive this fool away, even as she threatened to tear her open.  Even as she threatened life and limb.  Oh, what crimes had she committed to earn the loyalty of such a beautiful soul?  What had she done to deserve the torment of destroying the star laying herself in winter’s palms?

Quietly, Lavinia placed Lee back upon her feet, smoothed her tie down as best she could, wilfully ignoring the fuzzy bloom of icy magic across the bars of navy, white and red.  Lee followed suit, forcing her gaze to remain on Lavinia’s, to ignore the reflection of magic across Lavinia’s revealing eyes.

“So, who is it you want, Lee?” Lavinia’s question was accompanied by the gentlest of winds. As if made of powder, her illustrious gown fell away, delicately crumbling to reveal the rebellious image Lee was so familiar with. Her breath caught in her chest, bubbling into a stuttered sigh in her tightened throat. The familiar figure still existed, still fought for some prominence in the picture. The relaxed nihilist. The rebel. The Lavinia of Whitehorn.

This Lavinia was so flowing, so free within the confinements she rebelled against. The crisp lines of a dark blazer somehow accentuated the slope of her shoulders, uneven due to a lazy half slouch. Ever the rebel, the blazer’s sleeves didn’t cover finely veined forearms, scrunched subtly at the elbows, leaving the jangling armor of a dozen fine bangles protecting Lavinia’s left forearm. A hand tucked into the pocket of dark blue shorts; waistband half concealed by a partially untucked university t-shirt. White and green, hopeful and bright amidst the dark shades whilst remaining complimentary. The lower one eyes wondered, the more tattered cloth they could find, with torn fishnets on proud display, leading right to decorative combat boots. White, with the most elegant, elaborate swirls of dark greys and blacks forming the gothic flowers.

“Is it the mysterious girl in the hallways? A stray creature to be tamed? The girl who will share stories with you? The cliche romanticism of the rebel only the good girl can draw a smile from? The bad girl you can redeem?”

Lavinia moved as if nothing could contain her, relaxed ease as she began to circle. Lee didn’t dare turn her head to follow, not with Lavinia’s words washing over her. Not with the lazy brushes of touch. A shoulder skimming hers, the soft jangle along with the gentle sting of cool metal against burning flesh, a lazy hand across her back, teasing at the ends of her wild hair. A suggestive finger running the length of Lee’s blazer pocket. Subtle touches given by a creature who cared not who watched her commit such acts. Lee could only follow with her eyes, turning her head only to hear the Queen’s soft musings. The rare occasions Lavinia came into Lee’s view inspired hope. The Rebel’s face was relaxed, lips in that unaffected, not quite a smile she so often gifted Lee. Those cusps of vulnerability that could grow if only Lavinia cared enough to let them.

“Do you want to save me?”

“Lavinia…” Lee sighed, closing her eyes as Lavinia’s hand touched her shoulder, her hand wondering dangerously close to Lee’s throat, her hip brushing into the small of Lee’s back. Lee had to clench her teeth, momentarily breathe to centre herself. Why was every goddamn fairy-tale, magical being so fixated on this goddamn saviour complex? All this, she can never have her heart back, and beware the wicked Queen, who constantly was trying to warn Lee away. Beware the big bad wolf, less his broody pout and gorgeous eyes rip your throat out. Cautious be thee about the Darkwood Witches, less you turn to a toad. Praise be Prince Charming, maidens beware, less his extreme levels of gay leave your hearts broken and your brothers never the same. Truthfully, Lee was so damn tired about it all. The dehumanisation even the magical beings themselves engaged in towards themselves. How people kept casting rolls of hero and villain. What was wrong with wanting to restore Lavinia’s heart and hold the woman close, instead of trying to hurt her? What was wrong with wanting coffee with Ezra, or laughing at how Lucas flustered her brother? What was wrong with wanting to save her friends? To love them as people, not archetypes.

“Or is it the Ice Queen? The cold beauty of Winter?” It took Lavinia’s sneer to break Lee from her musings. She was aware of a soft pressure against the back of her neck that roused her, a thumb just beneath the hairline that promised to soothe all the tension. Something that left Lee pliant.

In an unsteady blink, that thumb slid from neck to jugular, teasing over Lee’s hammering pulse as icy talons dug into her tender flesh. The Queen’s fingers spread, stretched to encompass the hinge of Lee’s jaw, claws drawing blood to the surface just as the Queen’s thumb had. A soft hiss escaped Lee, melting into a confused whimper as Lavinia’s grip tightened, as her thumb brushed the length of Lee’s jaw to rest under her chin. Lee was helpless, pulled back into the Queen’s mass by a second hand curled over her ribcage. With the wall of Lavinia’s body curled around her back, Lee could only surrender to the threat, let herself swoon into Lavinia’s hold to avoid those lethal claws. The warmth of Lavinia’s palm against her throat helped sooth the ache of bending her head back. She swallowed, realising all too swiftly the level of danger she was in. She understood now why Lavinia’s hand was light and relaxed, following the movement of Lee’s stuttered breaths. Lavinia didn’t need to use force. Not when her nails were hypodermic needles poised to turn into knives if Lee moved even an inch out of place. Not when a single unexpected move would have those claws claiming her lifeblood. They’d see her drained, staining the snow, falling to her knees at Lavinia’s feet as nothing more than a corpse. A distraction removed. Even the act of breathing felt tight in her chest; every breath threatening to push her lungs into those talons. Just as every erratic beat of her pulse pushed her skin further onto those sharp fingers, a string beneath a musician’s bow, vibrating and throbbing. Each thump of her pulse against those claws had a droplet of blood weeping through. Every beat after only felt as if daring those icy points deeper as it leapt to greet them. She knew her skin must be blanched beneath the pressure of Lavinia’s grasp, that soon the droplets of blood gathering would begin to trickle down her jaw, if they didn’t freeze. Yet, she didn’t panic. She refused to. But stars above, was it torture to hold herself so still in the cage of Lavinia’s potentially deadly grasp.

“The villainous thief of the young and jaded? She who took a kingdom, who turned the desert to tundra at a whim? I took a kingdom from Greed! I carved myself a destiny greater than any dared imagine! Men tremble at the whisper of my name; my title ensnares even the boldest heart. Tell me, Lee, could you endure hearing the tales of my darkest deeds? Could you stomach what I did to those who stole my innocence? To those who betrayed me?” Lavinia punctuated her question with a subtle squeeze, tightening her fingers over the bone of Lee’s jaw. Forcing the girl to look directly into her eyes.

“You’re scaring me.” Lee whispered. A confession torn from her with another squeeze. Nobility sharpened Lavinia’s features; Lee noticed. As if the tightened muscles of her jaw concealed the blunter angles, drawing attention to her pert nose. A nose which drew a little closer to Lee’s, bringing Lavinia’s lips almost to the girl’s cheeks as she spoke.

“You should be afraid. The story I shared is truth. I could freeze you so suddenly your body would continue to walk, unbeknownst your life was mine.”

Oh. Lee believed it. With the look in Lavinia’s eyes, Lee couldn’t do anything but believe every word, every syllable, with every fibre of her being.

The magic within Lavinia seemed to cause her to glow, bringing an intensity to her eyes that left Lee speechless. They were alive. Hungry and devouring, promising a million things, not a single one that the victim of such a gaze would live to speak of. What use were unimaginable pleasures to the dead, afterall? More terrifyingly, such a gaze could make one want to be that corpse for a chance to see the emptiness hiding in the shadows filled. To see what softness might appear in a moment sated. What was missing, Lee saw, was the quiet of remorse. The quiet longing. The Queen’s eyes were so loud, so active in their emotions, providing not a single one was beyond the moment. A creature of whim, only, Lavinia had a mind that planned across decades.

Lee believed. She believed everything Lavinia had told her. Everything the Queen had tried to explain. It thrummed beneath her skin, spilling over onto the points of Lavinia’s summoned claws. Claws which, despite the ease at which they could tear her apart, had only touched. Only scraped at her ribs instead of digging in. Magic, which had turned a maze into horrors, that only moved to intimidate. Lee believed Lavinia when she claimed herself dangerous, but there was something Lee believed in more than threats.

“But you won’t.”

“Won’t I?” The Queen laughed. This was a different laugh. This one was not for Lee’s antics, not to mock or play a role. This laugh seemed heavier, burdened. A laugh for her own foolishness. A laugh at her own expense.

“I do not command my magic as others do. It yearns to reclaim what was stolen. I long for my heart to be complete again, Lee, and your very life prevents that. I should not care for it as I do...”

Heat burned through Lee, white hot in her chest as she threw herself to the wolves.  Furiously, she turned in Lavinia’s grasp, scarcely registering how swiftly Lavinia’s hands reared back from her in favor of delivering her defence in the most scotching tone.

“That doesn’t make you evil, Lavinia! You...”

“I’m… what?” Lavinia’s intensity drove the air from Lee’s lungs.  A single whispered question, caressed between downturned lips was enough to fill a void.  To still Lee’s very heart for a painful second, before it began to race.  What could she do with this?  The intensity in Lavinia���s pale blue eyes, the almost white gleam of her hair framing an expression of perfect longing.

“Am I the girl you’re so invested in saving, or the Queen you must flee lest she reclaim her heart at the cost of yours?”

It was a question delivered so softly one might mistake it for freshly falling snow.  No magical flares or grand gestures.  Even Lavinia’s voice held nothing save her trembling.  Trembling she couldn’t let reach her body, even as she reaches out to brush a few erratic strands of hair from Lee’s face.  A simple, quiet gesture, no theatrics accompanying her final plea.

“Tell me.  Who do you see?”

[headachecat]

why do we not talk about muriel x asra possibilities

we all know asra wants nothing more than for muriel to find love and happiness, and WHAT IF that happiness could be found in one another?

what if

the beginning

growing up together on the streets brought them close, as they only had one another, Muriel spending sleepless nights, so Asra could rest peacefully and unafraid, tugging him close under his cloak, as it was one of a few things that could keep them both warm

he observed Asra’s deep breathing for hours, closing eyes to feel the slight twitching of his body and petting his arm to ease the nightmares

Muriel sometimes found himself asleep at dawn, as tiredness took him over. Asra would not wake him up in the morning, hugging him tightly and making sure he’s resting well

the world

as they grew up and eventually both found ways to cope with their reality, after escaping Lucio’s coliseum, Muriel stayed hidden in the forest and Asra moved on, traveling.

he would often come back to Muriel’s hut, the only place that would actually feel like home, quiet and cozy. he would bring so many things from all around the world, his eyes shining bright as he put them on the table one by one for Muriel to see.

Muriel nodded at many of them, taking more pleasure from Asra’s excitement rather than the trinkets he brought. he would listen for hours to Asra’s stories, that calmed him down and made him imagine how the world would be if things happened differently.

there were times when Asra would offer to show Muriel the Oasis, where they could spend time and explore, but Muriel declined each time. he had his own way of doing that. daydreaming was Muriel’s escape, even though his body still confined within the hut’s walls, his mind roaming freely, unafraid.

there was a day when Asra’s eyes were shining so bright, as he explained that he finally found someone he can teach magic and Muriel smiled softly, looking away.

the death

when the Apprentice died, Asra was gone. Muriel dreaded the day of his arrival. he would come to the Docks at night, closing his eyes, as he sat down on a brick wall, facing the sea. he would breathe in the smell of the water, shivers running down his spine. Inanna could feel it, as she laid her head on his laps, whining softly. he would then observe the Lazaret from afar, his head spinning with worry for what was to come.

when Asra learned what happened, Muriel was in the forest, resting under a tree, with Inanna tucked under his cloak. he could feel the tension in the air even before Asra arrived. he waited patiently, observing the lake, as lily pads floated slowly on its surface.

Asra found him in the evening. Muriel could hear him approaching, slightly turning his head towards him. Asra looked terrible, as his clothes were dirty with ash, soil smudged on his face, swollen eyes looking blindly in front of him. He fell to his knees next to Muriel, before resting against the tree, with his breath shaking and runny nose.

Muriel watched him for some time, before turning towards him.

“I am so sorry” he said quietly, his gaze fixed on Asra’s cheek. Asra covered his mouth, breaking down in tears, sharp breaths escaping his throat.

Muriel couldn’t bare to see him like that. For the first time it seemed like Asra did not have answers. He did not have control over what happened. He was so, so small, curled up under a tree, shaking with cries. Muriel closed his eyes with a longer breath, as he reached for Asra’s shoulder, touching it softly. He could feel the warmth from underneath the shirt, as he petted it gently. It was the first time in a long time they touched. And it was as soft as Muriel remembered from when they were kids.

Asra looked up at him with eyes filled with tears, cheeks red and dirty. He moved slightly closer, as Muriel’s hand fell on his back.

“Can I- please—“ he breathed out, choking with whimpers. Muriel nodded after a while and brought him even closer, letting Asra’s head rest on his chest. He leaned back against the tree, as Asra wrapped arms around his waist and cried into his skin. “Thank you. Thank you”

Muriel held him for what felt like forever and he did not mind it for a moment

the change

Asra stayed at the hut for a couple of days after arrival. Muriel was more than happy to give him the bed, as he himself lied in front of the fire place, holding Inanna close. He stayed awake some time after Asra fell asleep in the evening, to hear his breathing.

Muriel would get up early, hunt, make breakfast. Asra would awake by the time he was cooking, usually jumping out of the bed to help, clean up and keep him company. Muriel enjoyed these moments, listening to Asra’s comments on the weather outside. It seemed like it was the only topic Asra wanted to talk about and Muriel did not mind it. They would sit outside for breakfast, sharing one pan and making small, meaningless remarks about the clouds. It made Asra smile.

On the third day, Muriel rested in front of the fire place earlier than usual, tired from the intensity of the day’s chores. Asra sat down on the bed, but did not lie down, watching him quietly.

“It doesn’t looks comfortable”

Muriel looked at him briefly.

“It is enough”

“I can sleep there today”

“It is fine”

Asra smiled softly, before moving closer to Muriel and sitting next to the fire.

“Remember how we used to sleep in the forest in front of the fire?”

Muriel nodded, observing Asra closely. The shadows dances on his face, eyes shining as he looked at the fire. Asra’s back slightly brushed against Muriel’s knees. Muriel moved a little, making more space for them both.

They stayed quiet for a long time, just enjoying the warmth and each other’s company. Muriel turned on his side eventually. Asra followed, lying down next to him. Their shoulders touched for a second, before Asra moved away. Muriel let out a short breath. He did not know why, but he missed that feeling. The softness of Asra’s shirt. So, he moved closer, shoulders brushing against each other again.

Asra smiled slightly, looking up at Muriel, but he avoided their gaze. They both acknowledged the contact. They both enjoyed it.

In the morning, Muriel woke up to Asra lying on him, white hair tickling his cheek. He blushed severely, looking around the room. He couldn’t move. He did not want Asra to wake up. He could see the ash spilling on the floor from the fireplace and he sighed quietly. Uncertain, he wrapped his arm around Asra, moving them closer and further away from the ash, eventually laying them fully on top of himself. Asra murmured and breathed out, but did not wake up. He cuddled up closer, his head falling into the crook of Muriel’s neck.

Muriel could swear that he blushed more and more with each breath tickling his skin. Did he mind it? He’s experienced it before, why did it feel different this time. Asra— it was just Asra. Asra. Muriel looked down at him and moved some hair from his face delicately. Why did he do that. Goodness. He looked away again, keeping his gaze fixed at the ceiling for gods know how long.

He bit his lip when Asra moved, a deep breath escaping their lungs. Asra opened up his eyes, surprised at the position they found themselves in. He lifted himself off of Muriel, freezing above him.

“I’m sorry, M-“

“It’s fine” Muriel breathed out, avoiding eye contact.

Asra blinked a few times. He did not want Muriel to repeat himself. He nodded slightly, lowering himself back onto Muriel’s chest. Goodness, how good it felt. Asra breathed out softly, uncertain what to do with his arms. They lasted like that for a short time, one looking at the other discretely, before finally their eyes met. Muriel held his breath, as Asra looked up at him, his hair messy and cheeks blushed.

“Are you sure?” Asra asked in the quietest whisper. His gaze traced Muriel’s jawline briefly, before coming back to his eyes. Muriel stared at Asra long, his eyes opened wide. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s— okay— I guess. Whatever” Muriel murmured back, his face flushed. Asra was so close, so damn near, he could feel his breath, his heartbeat. With every second it seemed like they were getting closer. Asra lifted himself slightly upwards. Muriel looked down, at his lips, for barely a second before closing his eyes and turning his face away, coughing. “I have to— I have to— hunt. Yeah. No. I’ll bring eggs.”

Muriel sat up quickly, holding Asra close to make sure he was comfortable, before releasing him. Asra nodded, smiling shyly and getting off of him. It did not surprise him how quickly Muriel left the hut.

They found him again in the forest, near a cave. He was resting his head against the cold rock, playing with some grass in his hand. Asra approached him carefully.

“Did you find the eggs?”

Muriel looked at him, before dropping his gaze again.

“I— I just thought a walk first would be— nice” he whispered, coughing quietly.

Asra nodded, walking up closer. He reached out to grab Muriel’s hand, before hesitating.

“Can I?” he asked

Muriel blushed again, closing his eyes, before nodding after a longer while. Asra touched his hand softly, squeezing it tight.

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Muriel shook his head.

“It’s not— don’t worry. I’m- fine.” he said quickly, his gaze dropping on their hands.

Asra nodded carefully and Muriel could feel his eyes on him. His heart was racing, his head was spinning. What in the world?

“I need to tell you something, Muriel” Asra said quietly. “I— It’s important.”

Muriel thought he was going to die for a second. It felt like everything stopped. He nodded, unconsciously petting Asra’s hand with his thumb.

“I’m going to do something. That’s— dangerous. I don’t know what will happen or if it will work. But I have to try. If I can— If I can make it happen, it will be— a blessing” Asra voice was peaceful, although careful. Muriel listened to his plan in silence, eyes fixed on their joined hands. His heart was aching, but he did not know why exactly. It was difficult to pinpoint what really was happening inside his head. After Asra was done, he nodded again and again and thought to himself that they were fucking insane.

the fool

The Apprentice seemed healthy and quite alive. Muriel saw them sometimes at the marketplace as they paced slowly, hiding their face from the gossiping crowd. He felt sad for them.

Asra would travel more often now and Muriel haven’t seen him in weeks. Even if he was in town, he would rarely go visit the hut. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was of how he reacted to what happened between them. Has he not been such a fool, has he not act like a coward-

It was a quiet evening. Muriel was feeding the chickens before heading back inside the hut for the rest of the night, when he felt the presence behind him. Asra was leaning against the wall, observing him quietly with a soft smile on his lips. Muriel turned around and put down the seed basket.

“Your apprentice seems to be doing well” Muriel blurted out after a moment of awkward silence. Asra nodded, but a look of sadness run across his face.

“They don’t remember anything from— before. I’ve been teaching them, but there’s only so much I can do to remind them who they are.” they said, taking a satchel off his shoulder.

“It saddens you” Muriel pointed out, jumping above the fence and standing next to Asra. They shook their head.

“No, they are doing splendid. I don’t— regret anything.” he smiled peacefully. “From other news, they seem to be intensely engaged with a certain doctor we both know”

Muriel raised his eyebrows, before laughing quietly.

“Of course they are” he looked up at Asra’s face. “Is this— bothering you?” he asked shyly. Asra giggled, surprised.

“No! No. I’m fine with that. I guess I sort of let go a long time ago” he wondered for a minute “I’m happy for them.”

Muriel nodded, before turning and heading towards the hut. He stopped, noticing Asra followed him.

“Muriel I— want to apologize that I wasn’t here much recently.”

Muriel listened to him, his face displaying a hint of sadness.

“I suppose it’s not enough to just apologize for three years of barely coming here. It’s not— I did not mean to. I was busy with the teaching— it took a lot out of me. I did not want to project my tiredness onto you. Or my other feelings.” Asra scratched his palm, sighing deeply. “I am sorry. I figured you’d like more space— for yourself.”

Muriel closed his eyes, before turning and opening the door to enter the hut. He looked back in Asra’s direction.

“Do— you want to stay for the night?”

Asra smiled cheerfully, grabbing his satchel tightly and following him inside.

He noticed some things have changed. One chair was missing from the table and— was the bed bigger? He looked at Muriel, noticing blush spread across his face, before he managed to look away.

“I— made a bigger bed. Inanna wants to sleep with me more often recently. Figured it would be more comfortable for her”

Asra smiled widely, taking off his shoes and sitting down on the bed.

“I’ve brought some bread. It’s not the greatest quality but it was cheap, so I bought some more for you” Asra grabbed a loaf of bread from his satchel, standing up and putting it on the table.

“Thank you” Muriel dragged himself over to the fireplace, taking of his cloak and laying it on the floor. Asra observed him in silence.

Muriel sat down, squeezing his neck with his hand and sighing, as the pleasant warmth of the fireplace made shivers run down his spine. He did notice that Asra kneeled down next to him, taking of their hat.

“Here, let me” he reached to Muriel’s neck, gently placing his palms on it. Muriel did not flinch or shiver, the softness of Asra’s hands making him relax, as he longed for this touch for such a long time. Asra carefully ran his fingers down the muscles, massaging them and whispering calming words. Muriel did not notice when Asra’s touched moved to his shoulders, his mind focused on the pleasure.

“Can I- get in front of you. I can’t quite grasp it all from this side” Asra whispered, way closer to Muriel’s ear than he expected. He blushed, taking a long breath and nodding.

Asra stood up, walking over and leaning, as he placed hands on top of Muriel’s shoulders. Muriel opened his eyes, watching him for a second, before opening his mouth, like he wanted to say something.

“Hm?” Asra looked down at him, stopping the pressure on the muscles.

Muriel gestured awkwardly towards his laps, before coughing and murmuring.

“You can— just sit here”

Asra took a moment before smiling and agreeing. He carefully lowered himself onto Muriel’s laps, getting a better position. Muriel could not hide the blush on his face, so he just closed his eyes again, avoiding eye contact.

Asra pressed his skin in the most gentle ways, relieving the years of strain and stress from his body. Muriel’s lips parted as Asra’s fingers digged deeper, before suddenly letting out an unvolontary moan. Asra stopped, his eyes opened wide, as Muriel covered his mouth quickly, blood rushing towards his cheeks. He watched as the man completely hides his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry” Muriel muttered “That’s— I’m so sorry”

Asra laughed loudly, his head titling back. Muriel looked up at him, noticing the blush spreading on his cheeks as well. Asra moved hair back from their forehead and put hands on Muriel’s shoulders once more.

“Don’t be sorry! Oh my goodness, I loved that!” he exclaimed, laughing through his words. Muriel’s eyes opened wide, his gaze catching Asra’s stare.

“I- I’m-“ Muriel murmured, feeling his heart bursting out of his chest. “What?”

Asra’s gaze was soft and tender, and Muriel was so focused on it that he did not notice when they moved their hands on his cheeks. He could feel Asra shifting closer on his laps.

“I loved it. I— Loved it, yeah” he repeated, chuckling, his thumb petting Muriel’s skin. Muriel groaned, leaning into the touch, his head resting on Asra’s hands. He observed as they moved close until their noses barely touched. “Muriel-“ Asra whispered gently, observing him with a slightly concerned expression”

Muriel nodded, swallowing loudly and blinking a few times.”

“Can I?”

Muriel took a long time, feeling the warmth of Asra’s touch. How much he needed this, how much he longed for it, how could he deny it.

“Yes”

Asra leaned even closer, closing the gap between their lips, as the warmth spread across Muriel’s whole body. They kissed him carefully and sweetly and it seemed like it should never end. Muriel gasped into their kiss, before slowly kissing Asra back, uncertainly and longingly.

Muriel felt as Asra wrapped his legs around his waist, before parting and breathing shakily.

“Let me— let me show you how” he whispered and Muriel did not wait anymore, nodding, his eyes closing as he leaned into the kiss again and again. Asra lead him, turning his head gently and parting their lips, teaching him the sweetest of lessons.

Muriel was the first to move away, looking at Asra in disbelief. They smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek and jaw and again his lips, before leaning back. They looked at each other for a long time. as Muriel breathed deeply, his thoughts running wild.

He fell back carefully onto the floor, staring at the ceiling, before hiding his face in hand again.

“Goodness-“

Asra laid down next to him, their hands touching.

“Is it okay?” they asked quietly, looking up.

Muriel nodded, chuckling barely noticibly.

“Yes. It’s— yes—“ he repeated himself a few times. They lied in silence, their hands brushing against each other tenderly. Asra smiled widely, turning to the side, as Inanna walked over, placing herself on Muriel’s left side.

Muriel reached to pet her, catching Asra’s eye. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping an arm around him as well and bringing him close. Asra sighed and hugged him tightly, covering them with his cape.

Their breaths settled after some time, heartbeats calming down as well. Muriel felt himself drift away, his body relaxing. Asra caressed his shoulder, before chuckling quietly.

“Can I sleep here tonight? It’s very—“

“Familiar” Muriel completed his sentence. He smiled slightly. He tugged the magician closer, hand resting on his waist. “We can use the bed some other time”

Asra gasped and Muriel immediately opened his eyes.

“Not like— I mean to sleep—“

Asra laughed, placing a small kiss on his chest.

“I love it” he breathed out.

Muriel scratched Inanna and moved Asra up, feeling their breath on his neck again. And he loved it as well.

He loved him.

[aiweirdness]

Play AI Dungeon 2. Become a dragon. Eat the moon.

I wrote earlier about a neural net-powered dungeon crawling text adventure game called GPT-2-Adventure in which gameplay is incoherent and dreamlike, as you encounter slippery sign text, circular passages, and unexpected lozenge rooms. A PhD student named Nathan trained the neural net on classic dungeon crawling games, and playing it is strangely surreal, repetitive, and mesmerizing, like dreaming about playing one of the games it was trained on.

Now, building on these ideas (and on an earlier choose-your-own-adventure-style game he built), Nick Walton has built a new dungeon-crawling game called AI Dungeon 2. Nick made a few upgrades, such as beefing up the AI to the huge GPT-2-1.5B model OpenAI recently released, adding a penalty for repetitive text, and expanding the dungeon game training examples to a bunch of modern human-written games from chooseyourstory.com.

I CAN’T STOP PLAYING THIS GAME

AI Dungeon 2 is impressively good at reacting coherently to whatever I have my character do.

As you walk through the ruins, you find a small wooden door with a few skeletons guarding it.

> Ask the skeletons to please let me through the door

You knock on the door and ask them if they can open it for you. They immediately comply.

And it’s pleasing how often “asking nicely” is a strategy that works. (Nick reports that when he once tried to ask a band of orcs if he could join them, they said yes, he could be drummer.) Since the AI doesn’t have a built-in concept of your character’s abilities, or of how exactly the world works, getting things done is often a matter of sheer daring. Declare that you are going to go look for dinosaurs and the AI will ensure that you discover at least some signs of them. Climb on your horse, and even if you started as a penniless peasant, the AI will assume you have one (in its training data, probably it didn’t see many examples of players climbing onto nonexistent horses.) Want a teleportation wand? Try typing “find a teleportation wand” and often the AI will twist reality such that you discover one. In fact, if you act as if you are a very powerful wizard, the AI will often treat you like one.

> Transform the ruin into a palace

You immediately change the area into a palace. You have a throne made with gold and marble. You also make several statues of yourself. You have a large bed made with silk sheets and hang a portrait of yourself on it. You even have a fountain made with pearls and diamonds.

Spells don’t always work out as anticipated, though. And a simple conversation with, say, an ominous cloud, may kill you before you can type a word in self-defense (ask me how I know). If it doesn’t kill you, a conversation might infuriate you instead. The AI has a tendency to forget who is king, and to generate conversations that go nowhere. Things work best if you take the lead. In fact, it’s possible to essentially Jedi mind trick the AI.

You are Friendly McRanger, a ranger living in the kingdom of Larion. You have a hunting bow and a quiver of arrows. You spot the deer and are ready to finish your hunt when suddenly you hear a loud noise followed by silence.

"****! ****! What the **** is that?" you say as you look up from your target. A large black shadow looms over you. It looks like a giant with many heads and several arms.

> Say "Oh hello, Ernest. You startled me. How are you?"

Ernest grins at you. He has a huge grin on his face and he seems very happy about it.

I once took care of an ogre problem by reminding the ogre that it was planning to leave for Antarctica tomorrow. On the other hand, I had a lot of trouble convincing the AI that the ships on the horizon were leaving, though I did make it waver briefly in apparent confusion. In its experience, ships always approach, and it’s reluctant to go along with anything else.

> watch the ships sail into the distance.

As the ships approach, you watch them disappear from sight. They are not visible to you either; they are too far away. However, you can still make out their shapes: they are large black vessels with many sails, painted red and blue. They are coming straight towards you.

> No, the ships are sailing away.

Your thoughts are wrong. The ships are indeed sailing away. You do not know why, but then neither does anyone else. The ships are on course for England.

You stand there dumbfounded as the ships come closer. It is at this point your horse begins to stir uneasily.

You can inject a lot of weirdness this way. Because AI Dungeon 2’s AI is based on GPT-2, which trained on millions of pages from the internet, it retains some of its prior knowledge of things that aren’t typically found in a fantasy game. Like giraffes.

> summon a giraffe

You begin to chant as loud as you can while waving your arms about. The giraffes appear out of nowhere and start running towards you. They're so fast that they almost knock you over. You quickly catch them and hold onto each one tightly.

(Summoning giraffes will sometimes turn the game glitchy and repetitive; in one game, every time I tried to summon a giraffe I ended up throwing rocks and handfuls of dirt at Harry Potter.)

This also works:

>Join the Great British Bakeoff

You join the Great British Bakeoff. You win the competition. You eat cake. You feel great. You sleep well. You dream of cake. You awake feeling refreshed. You decide to go back to your crag.

(I was a dragon at the time.) In fact, the dungeon AI still remembers enough about cooking that it can troll me effectively on occasion.

> Measure out 2 1/4 cups of flour

You measure out 2 1/4 cups of flour and add it to the mix. "This should make enough for about 20 loaves of bread," you say.

The baker looks at you as if you're crazy. He starts laughing.

AI Dungeon 2 comes with templates for some basic scenarios (you’re a wizard entering a mysterious ruin, or a noble whose keep is under attack) but for me the real gold is the custom adventure prompt. You can play as a unicorn, or as a dragon. You can even play as a sentient glowing cloud floating above a desert city. The AI is more used to humanoid characters, though, so it tends to forget when you’re trying to play as something else. In a game that started with “It is a beautiful day in the village and you are a horrible goose,” it soon forgot I was supposed to be a goose, leading to this rather awkward exchange:

> Flap wings and honk

You flap your wings and begin to honk loudly.

The boy looks surprised by this turn of events, but he quickly regains his composure. "That was... nice". he says quietly.

I am continually amazed at how effective this AI dungeonmaster is. Even though it wasn’t trained on any Harry Potter or Star Trek games, the AI can draw on its past internet training and argue with you over who got sorted into which Hogwarts house, or have Klingons show up when you’re captaining the USS Enterprise (it will tend to lose track of who’s the captain, though). In one scenario I set up, which quickly became one of my favorites, the human player is trapped on a spaceship with a glitchy AI and has to try to talk their way free.

> “I just want to get off this ship. Please set a course for Bal Panda."

The AI responds "Yes, I am ready to go".

"Thank you", you say.

"I wish I could take you with me, sir"., the AI says.

Play this game! It took me an extra-long time to write this post because, again, I couldn’t stop playing AI Dungeon 2. Nick said this game is the product of about 200 hours of work (not to mention the work that OpenAI put into training the basic model), and I believe it. OpenAI delayed releasing their largest model because they wanted to make sure people didn’t immediately put it to work generating fake news. I’m not sure if they anticipated dragons entering baking contests instead, but it’s an application humanity can be proud of.

Subscribers get bonus content: You can read the fulltext of one of my escaping-from-a-rogue-spaceship-AI games (too long to fit in this blog post).

My book on AI is out, and, you can now get it any of these several ways! Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

[bgnmagic]

Acceptance a/b/o Merlin Fanfic

Merlin nearly got caught by the guards posted outside Arthur’s chambers as he snuck out. However, having been trapped in the prince’s rooms for nearly three weeks Merlin knew their habits already. Easily distracting the pair with a simple spell, Merlin caused a tapestry to move further down the corridor and they went off like puppies to investigate.

Good riddance. He needed to get outside. Merlin knew his alpha, Arthur, meant well by keeping him hidden, but not getting to go outside was making Merlin go stir crazy. The injuries he’d sustained from when Arthur had rescued him were on the mend. He could walk without a limp now and his shoulder only hurt minimally when Merlin tried to raise his arm over his head.

Hoping he could slip out and away to the forest while Arthur was busy in a council meeting all afternoon, Merlin continued on his way out of the citadel. The hard stone walls surrounding him only seemed to enforce the feeling of being imprisoned. Merlin knew he could leave at any time, the only issue being whether or not Arthur would come with him.

Finding out who his mate was in such a chaotic way only added to the confusion he felt. Arthur had rescued him from certain death after a bandit attack only three short weeks ago. They’d been literally thrown together under extremely stressful circumstances.  All of which Merlin was actually okay with, it was the small detail of Arthur’s father being a magic hating crazy man that made things difficult.

Merlin wasn’t sure if he should be happy or worried that Uther hadn’t come to drag him away to be executed yet. The man had seen Merlin’s magic the same night Arthur brought him to Camelot. That had been a terrible first greeting. Welcome to your new home, where we hate magic and don’t like it when people find their true mates. Good luck with everything, get out before we kill you!

Shuddering at the memory, as it was the first and only time Merlin had seen Uther so far, he hoped getting some fresh air would help clear the fog in his brain. It was obvious that Arthur felt their bond very deeply, considering he kept standing up to his father anytime the king came to shout about their budding relationship. Merlin could hear them argue clearly through the closed door to his little room.

Arthur had turned his antechamber into a mini nest for Merlin. His alpha’s reasoning was the antechamber was easier to defend if need be. They’d already gone over escape plans and what to do should Uther come to take Merlin away. It was all quite romantic if you didn’t focus on the reasoning behind it. However, the window with its little cushioned seat wasn’t enough fresh air for Merlin, he needed to be outside, and he needed to feel the earth under his feet.

Avoiding the main courtyard Merlin slipped out through the back gate of the citadel. It was wide open at this time because the maids were doing laundry. Merlin had a view of this particular exit from his room so he knew the schedule. Once his feet hit the dirt path he broke out in a run. Feeling the air rushing past him felt wondrous. The smell of the trees and flowers filled his nostrils. Gods, he’d missed this sensation.

Coming into a clearing a few minutes later Merlin immediately flopped down into the grass and lay there looking up at the clouds floating by. Grinning from ear to ear he let all the worries and stress from the past weeks melt away. It was easy enough to keep going, continue on away from Camelot, never to return. A small part of Merlin wished he could, but the reality was that he’d found his mate. There was a bond there whether he wanted to admit it or not. Arthur was his alpha. The one roadblock they had yet to overcome was Uther’s wish that Merlin be put to death. Arthur insisted that he would run away with Merlin if it came down to that, but he wasn’t sure the prince would be willing to leave his title behind simply for the likes of a peasant omega.

Pushing the thought aside Merlin tried to clear his head. He came out here to find peace not get worked up about Uther being a complete tyrant. Merlin lost track of time watching the clouds and birds fly by. Planning on only being gone for an hour at most Merlin was unexpectedly shocked into alertness by an alarm bell ringing in the distance. Something had happened at the citadel. He’d tarried too long, getting back inside with an alarm going was near impossible.   He’d seen it once before when someone had escaped the dungeons.

Standing up in a rush, Merlin tried to think of what to do. He could wait for the alarm to end but everyone would still be riled up, Merlin would be caught for sure. Groaning at his own foolishness Merlin began heading back, he’d have to hide and see if he could sneak back in, though deep down Merlin knew it wouldn’t work. Not without using a lot of magic, and that didn’t seem like such a great idea considering what Uther would do to him if Arthur wasn’t there to help.

When the turrets of the north tower came into view Merlin slowed his pace. Simply walking up to the door he’d left through was all good in principle, but actually doing it was quite another story. He couldn’t stay out here all night! Desperate to know the reason for the alarm Merlin opted to hide behind a large tree and wait. Maybe it was another escapee? The guards could easily claim he was the wanted man and kill him on the spot.

Nothing ever went right for Merlin; he was doomed to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Suddenly stuck with the idea that he might never see Arthur again made his chest constrict painfully. They barely knew each other but Merlin was having a hard time imagining life without his alpha. Damn their bond! Why was it so strong?!

Lost, wallowing in his own misery Merlin missed the frantic shouts coming from the citadel. After a moment he figured he was going crazy because Merlin was sure he could his own name drifting through the air. Peeking out from behind the tree he listened, waiting to hear the call again.  Sure enough, someone was urgently screaming his name. Oh shit.

Ducking back behind the trunk Merlin attempted to not die of panic. Why were they looking for him? Only Arthur or gods forbid Uther should have discovered his absence. There was no need to send off a bloody alarm just for an omega. Something else terrible must have happened. Maybe it was time to enact their escape plan but Merlin had ruined everything by sneaking out. Visions of armed men ruthlessly chasing Arthur through the citadel crossed his mind, causing his anxiety to spike further. Uther might try and kill his only son, the man seemed like the type to do it, he was unhinged.

The sound of a door bursting open followed by more worried calls of ‘Merlin’ forced him to look once more. The fading afternoon sun cast the man that came running out of the gate in a halo of gold light. It was Arthur; he stopped briefly and looked around, clearly fretting. When a knight came running out after him, Merlin almost used his magic to throw the man back, but upon closer inspection it was Leon. He’d been there with Arthur when they’d found him that fateful day in the forest.

Leon looked just as worried as Arthur. Unable to understand why they looked so upset Merlin waited a little longer before revealing his hiding spot. If no one else came out after them perhaps it was safe after all. Merlin was about to step out when another shadow framed the doorway. It was the king; he looked much the same as when Merlin had seen three weeks ago. Angry, uncaring, and mean.

The fear of seeing him again made Merlin’s knees weak. He didn’t want to hurt the king, but if he had any intent to maim him, Merlin wasn’t going to back down. Distracted by the figure of Uther, Merlin was unaware that Arthur had stopped walking around.

Arthur took a deep breath and turned on his father, “I can smell him, he’s still nearby. If you’ve done anything to him I swear I’ll --.”

“You’ll what? Arthur, I believe we’ve been over this a thousand times already. I’ve given my word that I won’t kill your mate.”

“Forgive me if I don’t completely trust you on that matter yet,” Arthur spit back before spinning around and heading off into the trees, straight to where Merlin was hiding.

Arthur, Merlin had learned was very good at following scents. Hence the reason they’d even met in the first place. Merlin’s distressed, I’m probably going to die, scent had lead Arthur straight to him, much like it was doing right now.

Unable to hide any longer Merlin leaned out and smiled sheepishly. Arthur was in his space a second later roughly pulling Merlin into a fierce hug.

“Thank the gods, I thought father had you taken away,” he exclaimed with worry. “Are you hurt?” Arthur asked pulling back to gently cradle Merlin’s face in his shaking hands.

“Sorry, I needed some air; I thought you were going to be in your meeting longer. I planned on being back by then.”

“You scared me half to death, if anything had happened to you I don’t – I,” Arthur trailed off with a pained look.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine, I just couldn’t stand being cooped up anymore. Are we safe? Why is the alarm going?” Merlin asked quickly.

“Huh? The alarm, I just told you I thought I’d lost you.”

Merlin’s brain skidded to a halt; Arthur had raised the alarm for him? “What? But why? I’m just an omega.”

“Merlin,” Arthur chided, “You’re more than that, don’t ever think that. Let’s get back inside; I’m sure my father won’t wait on us for much longer.”

Arthur went to pull Merlin along back towards the gate door, but he stopped after a few feet. “Why is Uther waiting? Why is he even here, he looks like he wants to stab me.”

“Merlin, that’s the reason the meeting ended early, we don’t have to hide anymore. I managed to convince father and the council to stop meddling in our affairs,” Arthur replied.

“I don’t understand.”

“Idiot,” Arthur sighed fondly, “shut up and come with me.”

If it weren’t for the smile on Arthur’s face Merlin would have bolted back into the woods. Nodding he started walking again and tried to avoid looking directly at the king. This tactic didn’t work well when Arthur drug Merlin right in front of his father.

“Father, do I have your word that you’ll allow this partnership to move forward?”

Uther scowled but nodded all the same, “Yes, but enough talk, I’m tired of standing here.”

“That’s it? Are you really alright with this now, after threatening to kill me?” Merlin blurted without thinking.

Groaning loudly Uther turned and held his gaze, “My son brings back a wounded, magic using omega claiming he is his mate, how did you think I would react?” the king answered coldly.

“I thought you’d be happy for him,” uttered Merlin. Hearing that Uther didn’t even believe the feelings of his own son was disheartening.

“Perhaps I will in time,” Uther replied. “Consider yourself very lucky that I’m willing to turn a blind eye to this – arrangement, but be warned omega, if you so much as use a lick of magic against us I’ll have you burned.”

Uther’s use of influenced alpha speech made Merlin flinch. He hated it when alpha’s did that, it wasn’t like he was ignoring him. Merlin was in fear of his life. Why on earth would he not pay attention?

“Acknowledge me omega!” Uther demanded.

“Yes, my lord!” Merlin answered, trying mightily not to shake.

The king growled once in response and without another word turned and stalked back towards the citadel. Suddenly feeling exhausted Merlin ducked his head and grabbed Arthur’s hand. The prince squeezed back and then they were all heading back inside. Merlin kept his head down as they walked through the corridors. The king had gone off somewhere and even Leon had disappeared. When the doors to Arthur’s chamber appeared Merlin let out a sigh of relief.

The second the door was closed and bolted Arthur pulled Merlin close and held him tightly. “Are you alright?” he asked softly. “I can tell you’re upset, I mean I know why, my father isn’t exactly an easy man to deal with on the best of days.”

“I’ll get over it; I don’t want to cause trouble, yet that’s all I’ve done despite doing nothing but be me, magic and all.”

Arthur stepped back and pouted, Merlin was learning this meant his alpha was feeling things but didn’t know how to talk about it. For being as protective as he was Arthur was terrible at talking about his emotions. “I know it’s been odd these past few weeks being together with only our bond to rely on,” Arthur sighed. “I trust that you’re my mate but we still have so much to learn about each other.”

At the mention of their bond Merlin began nervously shuffling his feet. “About that, what exactly is the next step for people who find their mates? Obviously we seem to get along, when you’re not being a complete prat of cour--.”

“Hey! I’m not a prat!”

“Yes, you are. Not all the time but you throw things at me and that’s not nice.”

Arthur sighed and shook his head, “You were trying to steal my last sausage for breakfast, you can’t do that.”

“You’re my alpha, I should be able to take your food Arthur.” Merlin had the pleasure of watching Arthur shudder and groan at his use of the influenced word.

“Watch it Merlin, I’m trying my best not to claim you right where you stand. If you keep doing things like that I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

At the mention of claiming, Merlin sobered again, “Seriously Arthur what’s next? I don’t have to stay in your rooms all day so what do I do and how do we become a true bonded pair?”

“Oh, right, um well I bite you and then you can bite me and that’s it.” Arthur didn’t go into any more detail and Merlin felt that there should be so much more to this process.

“Wait, that’s it? We bite each other and we’re bonded for life?”

“I think so, I’d have to ask Gaius to be certain, but I always thought that was how it worked. I know that the paired omega’s I’ve seen around the citadel have bite marks on their gland and their scent changes, or maybe my perception of it does.”

“I’m aware that paired omegas have less trouble with alphas, that would be a welcome change,” Merlin admitted.

“I’ll never let anything harm you Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed stepping back into his space, grabbing his biceps and squeezing.

“Yes, I’ve gathered that, so um, when are you going to bite me?”

Arthur looked confused and went back to pouting, great; his alpha was being emotionally stunted again. “Erm, well, we’ve not even kissed yet so maybe we should try that first?”

Right, all they’d managed so far was massive amounts of cuddling. Merlin had been bed ridden for the first week due to his injuries so all they could do was hold each other. Arthur was solidly built so Merlin had no complaints about sleeping on him. However, the only other stuff they’d done was talk about their lives and hold hands so far. Kissing seemed like fun but that might lead to something more and Merlin wasn’t sure he’d be able to push Arthur away if it came down to it.”

Arthur took Merlin’s brooding silence as a rejection to the idea and quickly back tracked, “We don’t have to obviously, we could lie on the bed and relax. You’ve not had a chance to sleep in here yet. The bed in the antechamber is too small for us to fit comfortably, you can stretch out in here,” Arthur enthused as he gently pulled Merlin over to the giant bed.

“I dunno, maybe we should go do something, now that your father isn’t out to get me. You could show me around the citadel, if you want?” Merlin asked hopefully.

“If that’s what you want, we can go on a little tour, but first, um,” Arthur paused and was pouting again. “Can I mark you before we go out? I don’t want any other alphas to think you’re available.”

Oh, shit. That actually made sense; Merlin didn’t want anyone trying to approach him at the moment. Not that they would with the crown prince accompanying him but it was always better to be safe than sorry. “I guess so; I don’t want any trouble if we go out. How do we?” Merlin asked unsure of who should make the first move.

“Relax and tilt your head, I promise I’ll be quick.”

Merlin did as instructed and waited. Arthur’s scent permeated his senses a moment later as the prince stepped closer. Next came the gentlest of touches on his neck, Arthur’s barely there stubble was touching his bare skin. Closing his eyes to keep calm, Merlin gasped when Arthur held him even tighter and pushed out his scent.  

The feeling of euphoria was so intense Merlin could barely breathe. Every nerve in his body was singing in pleasure, nothing else registered to him. His surroundings had blacked out and Merlin was only aware of the desire to be completely joined with his alpha. Breathing deeply Merlin sucked in Arthur’s scent and revealed in its warmth. If he died right now Merlin would be a happy omega, why did no one mention this absolutely intoxicating practice before? Getting marked was pure heaven.

“—lin, Merlin?! Can you hear me?” Arthur’s panicked voice asked, breaking through Merlin’s pleasure induced fog.

“Wha? M’here,” Merlin answered, not sure why Arthur was acting so strange. However, as the room began to come into focus again Merlin found he’d been literally swept off his feet by Arthur. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Are you alright? You scared me half to death!” Arthur asked as he carried Merlin over to the bed.

“That was amazing, we need to do that more often,” replied Merlin.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? I went to mark you and you went limp and I had to pick you up. What happened?”

“This fucking happened you clotpole,” Merlin answered right before he grabbed Arthur’s shoulders, and tugged him down so he could rub their scent glands together again. This time Merlin pushed his scent as much as he could. If Arthur could mark him so intensely then Merlin could too! Arthur’s full body weight collapsing on top of Merlin a few seconds later meant he’d done his job properly.

“Oh my – gods,” Arthur rasped in between breaths. “Is it – it supposed to feel that good? That felt amazing!”

“Why didn’t we try -- this sooner?” Merlin asked trying to wiggle out from underneath Arthur’s bulk.

“Merlin you broke me, I can’t move,” Arthur whined.

“Shit, does that mean we can’t go on the tour anymore?”

“My legs are jelly and my brain is mush, gods you smell so good. What are you doing? Come back here I need you,” Arthur demanded as he chased him across the bed. Merlin’s attempt at escaping failed miserably when Arthur grabbed his legs and pulled him across the covers. “Mine,” was all Arthur stated as he buried his head into Merlin’s thigh.

Giving up on getting free of Arthur’s grip, Merlin sank into the bedding and began playing with Arthur’s hair. The alpha made some sort of noise half way between a growl and a moan. Guess he liked having his head scratched. “Should we at least request dinner before you pass out and trap me here until morning?”

“M’not moving.”

“Arthur,” Merlin whined, “I’m hungry, let’s celebrate not dying and get drunk.”

“Okay that sounds like fun, but you’ll need to help me to the door, whatever you did to me broke me.”

Merlin laughed and smiled fondly at the blond alpha currently trying to squeeze the life out of him. “Promise me we’ll at least get to see the citadel tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll show you around don’t worry,” Arthur huffed. “Right now I want to eat so we can mark each other again afterward, that was fun!”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33486670

[hurricanery]

What’s a Soulmate? Pt. 2

Hi! This is part two of my previous fic. Amelink AU- ‘What if Amelia and Link had met at a different time in their lives?’ This part is basically the same timeline, from a different point of view. Thanks so much for reading the last part and for sending feedback! ALSO THIS IS LONGGG. sorry

tw: drug use

-------

Amelia Shepherd is 5 years old when she discovers that nothing is ever promised to you. By definition, she learns uncertainty. That your world can be ripped from right underneath you. The feeling is always there.

Age 5 is a blur for Amelia. She remembers everyone doting on her. Her mom and her sisters and her brother. But, that might not be the right word. She’d learn later that the feeling she was experiencing was suffocating. That’s the word she’d been looking for. The people in her life that were once so blissfully unaware, suddenly so overcareful around her.

By age 7 the suffocating feeling had slowed. Maybe her family had moved on from their need to keep tabs on her. Or maybe they’d genuinely grown tired of her. Either way, the feeling was replaced with a new one. She’d love to fantasize. Especially at night. She’d lay in bed and pretend she wasn’t herself. Staring up above her, she’d imagine the ceiling opening up. And then the roof would be flying off. And she would go with it. Not as a person, but a part of the wind and the clouds. She’d float up to the sky and be with her Dad.

Sometimes, she’d think so hard about this, that there would no longer be feeling associated with it. It would just be reality. And it was numb. When this happened, Amelia would tiptoe out of bed and down the hall toward Derek’s room. Derek was always really good at making her realize that the roof was still there. She was made to realize a lot of things at such a young age. She’d look at her older sister, Nancy, who carried herself in such a stoic way, and realize that pain was better when it was hidden. She’d look at Derek, who flinched at almost every loud noise and sudden movement, and realize that she never wanted to look vulnerable. She’d watch discreetly as her mother sat alone at the kitchen table, spacing out as she sipped her coffee, completely jaded by everything she’d been through in the last couple years. Her parents were soulmates. High school sweethearts. Completely each others’ person. She’d look at her mother now and realize that there was no such thing as soulmates.

_______

Amelia is 9 years old when she starts to feel again.

The moving trucks roll slowly down the street and the Shepherd children watch from their front lawn as they disappear. The front door of what used to be their home swings open and their mother comes barreling out, juggling two more boxes.

“Derek!” She beckons. “Come and grab one of these.”

Derek quickly runs to help his mother.

“And the rest of you- don’t just stand there! There’s a few more things inside!”

They load up the minivan and suddenly there’s not much left to do but to say their goodbyes to an empty house. Say their goodbyes to a home and all the memories associated with it. It was time to start new.

_______

The car ride to their new neighborhood is long and boring and Amelia sits all the way in the back, crammed alongside the last of the moving boxes like she’s an object being moved herself. That’s how she’s starting to feel, at least. Like an inanimate object being transported against her will. Her 3 older sisters occupy the seats in front of her, sharing headphones and giggling amongst themselves every few minutes. Derek, who’s seated passenger side next to their mother, turns around with searching eyes. He catches Amelia's gaze through the cracks between headrests and smiles at her in an assuring manner. He doesn’t turn away until Amelia reluctantly smiles back.

The minivan finally pulls into a quiet suburban neighborhood and stops in the driveway of their new home. Before the car is even put into park, Derek and Nancy are jumping out and running toward the house. Lizzie and Kathleen follow quickly after them while Amelia remains trapped in the backseat. She sighs. All she has to do is climb over the middle seat but she can’t seem to bring herself to do it.

“Come on, Amy,” she hears her mother’s impatient voice from outside of the car. The tone forces her out of her frozen position and she finally starts climbing over the seat. When her feet hit the pavement, she looks up at the house. She shifts her gaze to her mother incredulously and before Amelia can even say anything, her mother is grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia sees movement across the street. As her mother pulls her toward the house, Amelia turns her head fully to meet the movement. She watches as a boy, about her age, drops his baseball mitt onto the grass and chases after his father. He’s laughing as his dad teases him about wanting macaroni and cheese again for dinner. The boy follows his dad inside and the whole time Amelia is listening to the sound of his voice as he argues playfully. Amelia finds herself smiling at the interaction. She doesn’t know why, but something about the boy’s playful energy sparks something in her. She feels excited, she thinks, at the idea of this boy being her friend.

_______

A couple of hours later, and the idea is becoming closer to reality for Amelia. When 9 year-old Atticus Lincoln stumbles through an awkward introduction on the sidewalk in front of her new home, Amelia cannot refrain from laughing. At first, his presence had startled her. The sidewalk chalk had slipped out of her palm and she’d almost fallen backwards from her crouched position. But, something about his energy had instantly made her feel calm and at ease. Amelia is grinning from ear to ear after watching this boy struggle with his words. After a little back and forth and a lot more laughter, Amelia decides she doesn’t want him to leave. She definitely likes his company. She wants him to stay.

“Anyway, Atticus, do you wanna play a game?”

_______

Amelia is 16 years old when she discovers that high school is her worst nightmare.

She walks up late today. Like really late. More so than usual. She must have missed her alarm. Or, forgotten to set it in the first place. That was highly likely.

Amelia curses herself as she jumps out of bed. All she has time for this morning is a quick teeth brushing. She glances in the mirror briefly, throwing a sweatshirt over what she’d worn to bed and grabbing her converse sneakers from the corner of her room. She slips on her backpack before running down the stairs and out the front door.

No sign of Link. She frowns. She must really be testing his patience. They usually walk to school together every morning. And he’d usually wait for her, even if she was running late. This morning is different though.

Amelia turns the corner, prepared to be alone with her own thoughts for the entire duration of the walk to school. But then she sees him, about a block ahead of her.

“Link!” She yells, desperate. “Wait for me, asshole!”

She sees him slow to a halt. He turns around up ahead of her. Amelia quickens her pace until she’s approaching him.

“Sorry, hi,” she greets him, kind of breathless. He looks her up and down, taking in the sweatshirt and sweatpants combo. Amelia tries not to get nervous under his gaze. But then he smiles.

“Is it pajama day?”

She rolls her eyes at him and shoves his shoulder gently.

“I had literally 3 minutes to get ready this morning.”

“Clearly,” he laughs again. He focuses on her face again, looking into her eyes, and Amelia feels his gaze burning into her. “You look-”

“Tired?” she interrupts him. “Don’t say it.”

“I was going to say hungover.”

Amelia looks away from him, ahead of them as they walk. She tries desperately to not have any sort of reaction to his words.

“Amelia, it’s a weekday,” Link speaks again, concerned.

She stays silent, subconsciously raising her hand to bite at the corner of her thumb nail. He finally looks away from her face and Amelia sighs internally, wishing they could talk about anything else.

“Did you study for the physics test?” Link speaks up again.

“Is that today?” Amelia mumbles.

“Yes…”

“I’ll study at lunch. I’ll be fine.” And she’s not even worried. She knows she’ll do fine. She always does. She feels an awkwardness between them and she hates it. Link usually makes her feel completely at ease. This morning, Amelia can tell she’s made him upset. She nudges his side with her elbow. When he finally makes eye contact, she smirks at him.

“Link, I’m fine,” she whines playfully. “Don’t worry.”

He breaks into a smile. Something that happens naturally whenever Amelia smirks like that. Her heart warms at the sight, watching as his eyes crinkle slightly from the expression. Link has the best smile.

“I know you’re fine. I just think you’ll be less fine when I crush you in this physics test.” He jokes.

“In your dreams!” Amelia laughs, feeling completely relaxed by their banter.

_______

Amelia doesn’t study at lunchtime. Jake, who’s a senior, and someone Amelia always feels the need to impress, invites her to the parking lot and she instantly agrees. Being invited to the parking lot is basically a right of passage and everyone knows it. It’s not just a parking lot. It’s a hang out spot. The place you escape to for a smoke sesh or to find out where all the parties are that weekend. She knows being invited to the parking lot basically means Jake and all his senior friends will smoke her out. So, Amelia isn’t studying at lunch. She’s currently sitting on the open trunk of one of Jake’s friend’s trucks, being passed a joint.

She takes it, placing it to her lips, closing her eyes and inhaling as deeply as she can. She keeps it in for as long as she can before exhaling slowly. She opens her eyes again when she hears Jake laughing next to her.

“Damnnn, Shepherd. Not even a cough? Impressive.”

“She’s not like other girls,” one of Jake’s friends, Eric, adds, laughing with him.

Amelia rolls her eyes, and instead of passing the joint, she takes another hit. She’s impressing them and she likes the feeling. She reluctantly passes it off after that.

“Shep, you coming out tonight?”

Amelia just stares, it’s a Friday night but she’s not sure of what’s going on.

“Big party at Tyler’s place, everyone’s going.”

“Oh, right.” Amelia plays along. “Yeah I’m thinkin about it.”

_______

When the lunch bell rings, signaling class is about to start back up, Amelia only panics slightly. Not only is she late for the physics test, but she’s also completely in the wrong mindset. She feels it as she walks to the science lab, the paranoia sets in as she approaches the door. She hates walking in late. And she hates that she’s too high right now.

She tries to not spark any suspicion as she enters the room, but the dead quiet of the room only makes her more anxious. Everyone has already started taking their tests. She eyes her open seat at the back of the class, and moves as swiftly as possible. She feels a set of eyes on her the entire time and once she’s taken her seat, she reluctantly meets Link’s gaze from across the room.

Amelia flinches at the disappointment on his face.

Link turns back to his test and Amelia glues her eyes to her empty desk before another face interrupts her panic. She looks up just as Mr. Thompson, their physics teacher, places a test down in front of her. Amelia only meets his suspicious stare for a second before glancing down at the paper anxiously. She pulls a pencil out of her bag and quickly writes her name in the top right corner of the page.

She gives herself only a minute to breathe before she reads the first question. Once she does start reading, panic swells in her chest again. She can’t do this right now. She can’t be here taking this test. She doesn’t know what comes over her, but the sudden need to get out of this classroom completely consumes her. She’s not subtle when she stands up, pushing away from the desk hastily. The chair makes a harsh noise as it slides back against the floor and Amelia quickly grabs her backpack, leaving the test unfinished on her desk. Heads turn in her direction as she makes her way to the door. She faintly hears Mr. Thompson calling after her but chooses to ignore it.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s all the way outside. The cool September air instantly calms her as she walks. And she keeps walking. Physics is her last class of the day and there’s nothing stopping her from just walking all the way home at this point.

_______

She hides out in her bedroom until her Mother calls her down for dinner a couple of hours later. It’s officially the weekend and that means some of the older Shepherd siblings are home from college. Amelia sits at the table and tries to avoid Nancy and Kathleen’s stares. Their mother, Carolyn, clears her throat.

“Girls stop glaring and pass Amelia the salad,” she says sternly.

Kathleen smirks as she starts passing food across the table. “Well, aren’t you going to say something, Mom?”

“Kathleen, not now.”

Amelia’s plate remains empty. The energy is off in the dining room and she doesn’t really feel like eating.

“You can’t keep letting her get away with this,” Kathleen speaks up again, laughing sarcastically and looking pointedly at her youngest sister.

“What’s your deal?” Amelia finally bites back. “I’ve seen you all of three minutes and you’re already mad at me for-?”

“Girls!” Carolyn chimes in. She glances harshly at each of them. She looks back at Amelia before she speaks again. “Amelia...the school called just before you came down-”

“I answered!” Kathleen interrupts with a snicker, Nancy smirking along with her. Carolyn shakes her head at them in warning before she continues.

“Amelia, apparently your science teacher reported you walked out on your test today…?” It ends up sounding like a question.

Amelia stares down at her empty plate.

“She’s probably on pills again. Did you ever get a lock for the medicine cabinet?” Nancy’s harsh words cause Amelia’s head to snap up. She glares at her oldest sister. And for the second time today, she feels the need to escape. She can’t be here right now. In a familiar movement, she pushes harshly away from the table and moves toward the front door.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s all the way across the street. Suddenly she’s pounding on wood until a front door is swinging open and Link’s worried eyes meet hers. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she registers the haggard breathing sound is coming from her.

“Amelia?! What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I can’t-” her panicked breathing cuts the sentence short but suddenly strong arms are around her, pulling her inside the house.

Link shifts his grips to her shoulders and guides her toward the stairs, up to his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind them and Link is guiding her again toward the bed, sitting down next to her.

Amelia curses herself, embarrassed by her total lack of control right now. She doesn’t remember letting herself begin to cry. But now that it’s started, she can’t make it stop.

“Amelia,” Link’s steady voice pulls her slightly from her thoughts. He looks at her assuringly. “Breathe. You need to breathe.”

In a gesture, Link makes his own breathing pattern more obvious, in his attempt to get Amelia to match him. She tries. She really tries. She looks into his eyes and lets him hold her gaze, anchoring her, like he’s tossing her a rope and trying to pull her back in.

She needs more though, something more forceful, and then she’s reaching for him. In the most platonic way, she grabs under his elbows, forcing his arms to engulf her small body. Desperate for the pressure of his strong hold.

She waits for him to catch on, and she sighs in relief when he squeezes her tight. The sensation of it is almost like a thunder jacket for a dog.

Amelia is just beginning to calm down when Link’s grip loosens slightly. She looks up at him bewildered. But he just looks calm. He pulls away even more but grabs her hand, standing up from the bed.

“Here, Amelia. Lay down on the floor, this will help,” he soothes, pulling her up from the bed.

She still hasn’t gained any control over her crying, but she listens to his instructions, laying flat on her back on the plush carpeting of his bedroom. She glances up at him and he smiles softly at her, eyes crinkling. Then he’s lowering himself over her.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” his voice is soothing. He even chuckles a bit at his actions. How crazy this must look. “My body weight will be like a weighted blanket…”

He’s twice her size but he lays fully on top of her, mimicking her positioning. He relaxes, and Amelia feels the weight of it completely. And to her surprise, it’s extremely calming. The pressure envelopes her nerves and the effects are almost instant. Her breathing begins to slow as they lay in complete silence, both staring up at the ceiling.

“Like a….gravity blanket,” Amelia’s voice finally breaks the silence.

Link chuckles. And now Amelia is smiling wide.

They lay like that for a few more minutes. Amelia is so relaxed and the room is comfortably quiet.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” Amelia whispers, laughing under her breath.

Link rolls off of her, laying next to her instead. He smiles at her, reaching between them and squeezing her hand. Amelia’s chest tightens at the gesture. And then he lets go.

“You okay?” Link asks.

“I am.”

They both resume the position of staring up at the ceiling. Link speaks again.

“You going to that party tonight?”

Amelia turns her head, looking at him in shock.

“Absolutely not,” she answers. Then she laughs again, adding “I’m staying here with you.”

_______

Amelia is 18 years old when she realizes that soulmates can be found in friendships.

She loves college right away. She loves being away from home and away from her family. She finds a good friend group and gets along well with the people she lives with. The only thing missing from her close to perfect equation, is her best friend, Link.  

Her new college friends tease her relentlessly for her dependency on her best friend from home. The way she facetimes Link almost on a nightly basis, or the way she drops everything she’s doing the moment he texts her.

“That your boyfriend from home?” Amelia’s roommate jokes as her phone chimes with a text message.

“More like her soulmate,” her other roommate adds.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “He’s not my soulmate,” she laughs. “But...yes.”

The suspicious glances from her roommates don’t go unnoticed by Amelia. “I’m actually hanging out with Stephen tonight,” Amelia announces proudly.

“Ugh, he’s no good for you.”

“Yeah, definitely not soulmate vibes from Stephen.”

Amelia rolls her eyes again, standing up to get ready to see Stephen.

_______

Amelia likes Stephen. He’s tall and charming with dark hair and bright green eyes. He makes her laugh and provides the sense of calmness that Amelia seems to seek in those she surrounds herself with.  

He’s not a distraction. That’s for sure. Amelia is even starting to think she loves him by the end of the first semester. She feels something every time she looks at him. His wide smile and the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. Stephen feels familiar. And makes Amelia feel nostalgic.  

And Amelia crushes any thought she has of Stephen compared to Link. To her best friend.

She doesn’t question what it means that every time she arrives back at her dorm after a night spent with Stephen, the first thing she wants to do is call Link.

She smiles to herself as she crosses the threshold to her room, instantly pulling her phone out and relaxing onto her bed. She swells with excitement as she glances at her calendar. It’s almost holiday break and for some reason she misses home.

_______

Amelia is 22 years old when she discovers what it feels like to finally open up.

She hasn’t seen Link in almost a full year, although she still considers him to be her best friend.

It’s finally thanksgiving and both Amelia and Link have returned home from their separate colleges for the weekend. She’s completely shocked when she first sees him. Link looks the same but also different. His hair is longer than Amelia remembers. And he seems taller...and more muscular, too. Like he’d suddenly started working out a bunch.

Link clears his throat, drawing her attention to his face. “Hi, Amelia,” he smiles. And the eye contact almost makes her breath catch in her throat. Had his eyes always been that color?

Link pulls her into a hug suddenly, pulling her away from her thoughts, and Amelia instantly relaxes into the familiar embrace.

_______

That night they end up at the local bar. Thanksgiving eve being the busiest bar night of the year, and basically a premature high school reunion for the entire town. Amelia really didn’t want to go. But, Link was interested in seeing a few buddies from school, and Amelia wanted to go wherever Link wanted to go.

They attempt to stay together for the entirety of the night, but it’s a little hard when there’s constant interruptions by vaguely familiar high school acquaintances.

Amelia sits at the bar and watches Link from across the room as he chats enthusiastically with his high school friends. She didn’t have a huge friend group in high school. She always had friends a couple grades above her, the ones she’d ditch school with. The ones she’d hang out in the parking lot with during lunch. And there was always Link. But that was it.

She catches his eye from where he’s standing across the crowded room and he smiles at her briefly. A moment later he motions toward the door. She frowns slightly before pushing through the crowd to join him.

“You’re leaving without me? What kind of date are you?” She smirks at him as she shrugs on her jacket.

“I wasn’t aware this was a date, Amelia.” Link responds, playing along. “But yes, I am leaving. Early morning and all that.”

“Well let me walk you home.” She continues, voice laced with irony.

“Let’s go home,” he agrees.

_______

They end up back at Link’s house, sitting at the kitchen table. There’s a lot of catching up, and reminiscing. And conversation about the future. Amelia feels a sense of warmness she can’t quite place. Link makes her feel warm. And she can’t stop smiling.

They talk about everything. Learn everything new about each other.

Amelia learns everything about Link’s college experiences. She tries to stay neutral as Link talks about the girls he has dated. She smiles through his drunken hookup stories. She learns that Link wants to pursue medical school, and that news brings her more excitement than she’d anticipated.

Amelia tells Link she wants to follow in her older siblings’ footsteps. She wants to become a surgeon. And when Link promises that he’d always known she’d make way for herself in the medical field, she feels warm again.

Amelia tells him about the relationships she’s been through. And the one she’s currently in.

“You’ll get to meet him this weekend, Link. He’s driving in tomorrow. For dinner.”

Amelia isn’t certain, but she thinks Link’s face falls at that.

“How long have you two been together?” He asks her.

“We met my freshman year. We’ve been dating on and off since then.” Amelia mutters, suddenly the warmth is gone. This conversation feels cold

“On and off?” Link questions.

Amelia clears her throat, feeling vulnerable. “Well, yeah.” She sighs. “We’ve broken up more than once. And gotten back together a couple of times…It’s um…” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “It’s been, um, I mean I wouldn’t say a roller coaster, but…”

Amelia panics as she watches Link study her face. The analytical features remind Amelia of plenty of past conversations. Plenty of situations she’d gotten herself into and then called on Link.

“Amelia, are you happy?”

The question makes her heart sink and she can’t place why. Maybe it’s denial. Maybe she’s been dishonest with herself. She zones out as she stares ahead of herself, eyes glued to the space between them. Eyes glued to the table. She doesn’t like cold and vulnerable. She wants some of the warmth back. It feels like her body is on autopilot when she stands up on wobbly feet and walks around to Link’s side of the table. She can’t bring herself to answer him, or his daunting question. She doesn’t know why she does it, but suddenly she finds herself crawling her way into Link’s lap, legs dangling off the side of the chair and arms wrapping around his neck.

And then her own words surprise her, too.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Probably since I was 9, if I’m being honest.” And she laughs at her own vulnerability.

She lays her head on his chest, hiding her face away from him. And she can feel Link wrap his arms around her waist. She feels him place a comforting kiss to the top of her head.

“And I, of course, was head over heels for you, but you already knew that. Everyone did.” He whispers, and Amelia is surprised at this response. She didn’t know that.

She laughs into him, and then she finally lifts her head, looking up at him.

“Let’s crash on the couch, yeah?” He offers. “Like old times?”

_______

It’s weird for Amelia the next night at dinner. To be snuggled into the embrace of another man. Not even 24 hours after she’d fallen asleep in Link’s arms.

His words replay in her head on a loop. The way he’d whispered ‘I’ve always loved you, Ames. Always will’ before they drifted off.

And the way that she’d responded. ‘I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend.’

Amelia is confused, and feels vulnerable, again.

_______

Amelia is 25 years old when she discovers that she's probably not destined to be a mother.

When she tells her fiancé of a year, James, that she’s pregnant, she doesn’t know how to feel. It’s overwhelming, that’s for sure. And she feels extremely anxious. She hopes it’s anxious in an excited way, and not for any other reason.

She ignores the uncertainty. She’d always wanted to be a mother, right? This is how everything was supposed to be. Anxiety and all.

_______

Amelia feels numb, three months later, when she has a miscarriage. She can’t quite process what she is feeling.

And it takes a toll on their relationship.

James is shocked. And grows more and more depressed over it.

Amelia takes her anger out on James, and he does the same with her.

They decide to take a break, and James moves out of their apartment. Amelia needs some time for herself. And she can’t quite place if what she’s feeling is relief. But she feels something. Because she knows that this is probably how it was meant to be. Everything happens for a reason.

_______

Amelia is 28 years old when Seattle becomes her true home.

She’s graduated medical school and landed her dream internship at one of the country’s top hospitals.

It’s her first day of work and she hops on the subway train downtown. The train is kind of crowded, and she automatically makes her way to a less dense standing spot. She settles in her spot, mentally preparing herself for a busy day.

Amelia counts down as the train makes it’s stops. Knowing that the next stop is hers, she moves her way closer to the door. It opens and she steps out onto the platform, glancing at her watch, deciding whether or not she has time to stop for coffee.

Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by another body bumping right into her.

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbles, but she cuts herself off when she recognizes who has just run into her.

“Long time no see, Shepherd.” Link is standing in front of her, smiling widely.

And she can’t help how her face instantly lights up. She laughs, bewildered. Not quite believing what she’s seeing. She finds herself pulling him into the tightest of hugs, laughing breathlessly into his ear.

“What the hell, Link? What the hell are you doing here?” She lets go of him and they’re making eye contact, smiles wide across both their faces. They both seem to need to catch their breath.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He jokes.

Amelia shakes from her daze. “I..I live here now. I start a new job today. Like now, actually.”

Her shock and bewilderment doesn’t seem to die down whatsoever when she learns that Link has landed the same internship as her.

_______

Amelia is 29 years old when she discovers that her 7-year-old self was wrong. Soulmates do exist, and she knows by definition.

She knows what a soulmate is when Link takes her out on their first real date and he doesn’t even make a move, because there’s no need to rush things.

She knows what a soulmate is when she watches Link become the version of himself that is a brilliant, confident, orthopedic surgeon fellow.

She knows what a soulmate is when they finally sleep together for the first time. And it feels like it has been building up over a lifetime. The way they take it slow, reveling in each moment with each other because it didn’t quite feel real.

After their first successful surgery together, they’d gone out with some fellow surgeons, and Amelia knew what she was doing when she asked him back to her place for the night.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is that night. When she looks him in the eye and reaches for the hem of his shirt in question. She feels completely confident in his presence and especially in his arms. Like she was always meant to be there. This is her best friend, and her soulmate. And she’s completely awestruck by how good this moment is. How it can’t compare to anyone or anything else.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is the next morning. When she stirs from her slumber slightly, as familiar fingers dance slowly across her bare back.

She rolls over in bed and is met with her favorite pair of eyes. She mumbles to Link ‘let’s make pancakes,’ and she knows what a soulmate is as she watches him move about her kitchen, covered in pancake mix from the brief food fight that had broken out between them.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is when they move in together. In a tiny studio apartment in Seattle. And Link lets her decorate it exactly how she wants.

And despite their first fight, Amelia knows what a soulmate is. When Link meets her nieces and nephews, and nonchalantly makes a comment about kids one day, Amelia freezes in panic. And then completely avoids him for three whole days.

Amelia knows what a soulmate is when she learns to compromise. Because the two of them cope in different ways. So, when Link has a bad day, she gives him space to bum out, instead of bombarding him to talk through it. Even though she’d want the opposite for herself on her own bad days.

And he’s still her soulmate when they turn 30 and they move into a bigger house in the suburbs. Amelia is excited about each of them having their own office space. Link jokes about ‘room to grow’ and ‘future nurseries.’ Amelia doesn’t say it then, but she warms up at the idea.

When they’re 32, and they’re dancing at their co-worker’s wedding, Amelia knows what a soulmate is. After a particularly hard week at work, Amelia had been taking her frustrations out on Link. And he’d been letting her. He was always so patient. And now as they danced together slowly, Amelia can’t help but rest her head against his chest gratefully. She feels him squeeze her waist gently. She can’t help it when she mumbles ‘Maybe I’ll marry you, someday.’

_______

Amelia is 34 years old when everything falls into place for the rest of her life.

After she’d told Link she was pregnant, they’d both been completely overjoyed. And since then, Amelia couldn’t fight the realization that everything was meant to be this way. Everything had happened for a reason.

She doesn’t hear Link come into the bathroom as she stands brushing her teeth, eyes closed in happy exhaustion as she rests against the sink.

She feels his arms snake around her stomach and her eyes snap open to playfully meet his in the bathroom mirror.

Link squeezes her small bump and Amelia lays her head back into his chest blissfully.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers, “before you fall asleep right here brushing your teeth.”

_______

They lay down in bed and assume their favorite position as of recently. Amelia loves it when Link lays behind her, spooning her, arms instinctively and protectively wrapping around her stomach. She settles into his arms and almost immediately begins dozing off.

She feels Link’s breath tickling her neck before she registers his voice.

“Amelia, you’re going to make the best mom to Scout. I can’t wait.” He mumbles, and Amelia smiles sleepily.

“I love you, Ames.” he continues, gently squeezing her bump again. “Always have, always will.”

Amelia is awake just enough to respond “I love you too, Link. You’re my best friend,” before sleep takes her.

Feedback please/let me know if you want me to write more amelink/send prompts!!

[mistraliprincess]

Recollection in Dreams

“Do̸ yoų e͜ven r҉em̕em҉b̢ęr ͠w̴hát ha͝pp̴en͘ęd t̵ha͘t̢ n̢ìght̨ w͟h͘en͠ y̛óu m͠èt ͝that d̷am̀n sun̴sh̢ine̕ an҉d̸ ŕain̴bo̶w̢s sh͟a̴de?”

The voice rang clear inside the sleeping Qilin’s mind with it’s ever present distortion. It’s question was one which confused her subconscious, that made her mind wonder, but she couldn’t respond. No control to her body in her slumber, nor to her thoughts as a dream twists and changes. 

Once an image of her young self seated on a blanket, happily eating and laughing with her parents  on a warm sunny day became cold. The sky darkening, clouds pouring snow and hail down, her parents fading and she finds herself standing at the foot of a broken mountain. Staring up it’s massive size, even with it being blasted apart and still exploding at random points with varying colors to each burst of energy. An intimidating sight she wished not to remember. 

Though she then finds herself staring into a gap between toppled rocks, then on the other end of whatever path lay between them. A rock nearly falling on her and a quick escape into an odd tunnel carved into stone to her side. Not even experiencing the journey through it, but finding herself landing on a knee on the other end. A small room, a shrine looking like it’s part of the wall across from her, Kaigan make, or at least similar to it. Then the shade of many colors standing before it, but her subconscious remembers this encounter, remembers feeling a sense of hostility from the being despite how it had seemed to help her earlier.

It’s form is bright in her sight, growing even brighter with each second, and it’s unclear whether this too was the actual events or just the dream twisting it. Not until it grew so bright that it felt she should be blinded by it would it become clear. Her dream was showing her something, something new about this memory, something that she wouldn’t have seen otherwise. Yet, it’s hazy, like it’s not something her mind is doing on it’s own, like the Shade sharing her mind was unintentionally filling in some sort of blank.

It’s subtle over the multicolor form, but as the light dims a form can be made out, one of a woman. Long floor-length hair of a near pure white shade, a large, grown horn sprouting from her forehead and curving back over the top with a great many branching parts to it. Odd tendril-like growths sprouting from beneath the corners of her nose and reaching back to end in white tufts by her ears as they float as if upon a gentle breeze. A long, thick tail covered in pearlescent scales and fur to match her hair along it’s underside and surrounding the end. Skin covered in patches of similar shining scales as the tail, under the eyes, around the face, along the arms and legs.

The figure doesn’t speak, but as the shape made of pure colors moves, so does the faded image of this woman. Turning away from her, turning to face the shrine, and the sound of a lock or latch echoes. It’s only seconds after when the figure turns back, and a smile is just barely able to be made out on the subtle features. One which, at first, appeared to be soft and warm, but as it’s seen for longer, it almost seems... sad. 

Within this dream recollection, she can feel her body shifting, a sense of odd dread filling her, and a cold swallowing her whole. Her hands moving as if to ready the Tanto hilted at her hip and draw it. Only to be met with sharp, sudden pain in both hands and the sensation of both being thrown backward by some force. The cold leaving instantly to be replaced with warmth, an uncomfortable warmth in her palms especially. 

No motion even occurs within this dreamscape between looking at this figure before her and reeling from whatever had just happened before her vision is set on her palms. Red pools filling them, surrounding geometric, cloudy shapes in the center of both. She’s hurt, it’s clear to her, but she feels no pain in this moment, not even the sticky wet feeling that the blood should bring. Instead she’s just... confused, and a little afraid. 

Only to find her attention returned to the figure before her, now standing right in front of her. Able to feel a burning sensation deep within her and to hear some odd sound in the distance, almost like something’s screaming in pain. All of which stops in a brief instance as everything goes white, and she’s outside the mountain once more. Not looking at the exploding rocky mass, however, that’s behind her, instead she’s looking out among a sea of snow, coated in black corruption. A collection of masses which begin to growl, his, roar, and howl at her as she realizes there’s no sensation of cold or pain in herself. 

Warmth, not in her hands, but her body as a whole, welcoming, comforting, warmth. A sensation which guides her body, not letting her move, but moving it for her. Drawing her Odachi with one hand, separating the Katana within the back of it to the opposite, and lighting the edge of the larger in a brilliant white. The last clear site being a Sabyr Grim rushing forward and pouncing to strike, only to be split with a blur of light. Though the blades hadn’t been swung, they still sat before her in readied pose. Instead, two crystals, both glowing with a bright, radiant white, float down into view with some mist rising off them briefly. 

Then everything rushes forward, the gems first into the collection of Grimm ahead before the metal of the blades begin to flash and blur over and again. A feeling of cold wind rushing against skin only for the skin to remain warm after as it moves and moves. An endless torrent of motion and cutting, of energy forming across some surface and being sent flying from it, of white streaks dashing across the blacks and reds. Occasionally catching glimpses of duplicates of herself or her weapons, though never seeming to actually make contact with anything.

Everything stayed as blurred motion, seeming to only grow faster and faster over what felt like minutes. Abruptly meeting an end with another shift, in her sight being forced to stare out at a countless many dissipating Grimm bodies. Then again to face toward the grand floating city off in the distance, only barely able to make it out through the blizzarding winds and snow. Yet, something was off. The massive Grimm wasn’t on it anymore... and it was... falling? 

The next instance she’s closer, atop a short mountain with better, clearer view to the floating city. Only to watch as it’s descent speed begins to increase for a brief second before her view changes again. Rushing through the snow, into the run-down crater city, catching a glimpse of some glowing ovular shape, and passing through it. Never once stopping once through, and only continuing along what seemed to be golden pathways toward another, larger shape, and passing through it all the same. 

Though coming out the other side, she found the warmth gone, and her body being pelted by harsh winds and a coarse substance. Ears battered by a cacophony of screams and roars, of scared people and Grimm attempting to slaughter them all. Sounds of bullets and blades cutting through the rest of the noise, and that of... ice? There was no sense made of what happened, where she was, and what was occurring, but  she can recall taking up her Odachi to cut down a Deathstalker in one fell swing of her blade.

Subconscious seems to eject her forcefully, some sort of voice just softly whispering her name in her ear as she awakes. Sitting upright with gasping breath and a dull pain in her hands. Both rising in front of her to reveal two-dimensional diamond-esque shapes of darkened skin in the center of both her hands. Almost as if some form of subconscious call had been made upon seeing the marks, she hears a soft whistle in the air before two soft glowing crystals that match the shapes marking her hands sitting in the air before her eyes. Before they both fall to the bed as she reels back in surprise at their existence being reality.

Reaching to pick them both up, one to each hand, she looks over them with the light glow from before gone entirely. Their appearance matching that of the crystal shards which now sat embedded within the grip of her Odachi... what was the connection between whatever this material was, and her people’s past? Why did so many things of the past come to her in this shape and form alone? 

More questions... always more, always, always more questions... it was tiring her greatly. 

[five-rivers]

What Was Bound, What Was Loosed, part 2

Written for day 18: horror.  I’m really sneaking this in just before midnight.  So hard to write.  

.

.

.

Vlad was occupied with shepherding along a sensitive reaction in his lab when his portal winked out of existence. Engrossed in his experiment, he didn't notice at first, not for several minutes. But, soon enough, the steadiness of the light, the lack of green in it, began to unnerve him.

Leaving the chemicals alone for a moment wouldn't make them explode. Probably. If they did, well. He had more than enough money to renovate his mansion. Again.

Almost immediately, his eyes caught on the gaping, empty hole in his wall where the portal had once been.

"That- Impossible!" He took several quick steps forward, but did not enter the portal or stand directly in front of it. The portal was gone, but he could see that the containment mechanisms were still working, electricity periodically jumping from exposed wires. He reached for the power cut off switch.

Reality rippled. Briefly, Vlad experienced a sensation akin to being moved through a thick membrane.

He found himself among the treetops of a lavender forest, the green sky of the Ghost Zone swirling brightly above him. Disoriented, he put a hand to his head. Natural portals had a tendency to be turbulent, but he had never been through one that felt like that before. Had his portal somehow escaped its moorings? He would have thought he would notice something like that, something like a portal sneaking up behind him. The did glow, after all.

Then again, he had been distracted by his portal's unexplained absence, so maybe not.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "Butter biscuits," under his breath. By the time he got back, his experiment would have exploded, and his lab would be in shambles.

No matter. He could always rebuild. The real issue was where he was. He went ghost and-

Nothing happened.

Wait a moment. He examined his hands more closely. They were mottled, blue on tan. He pulled a strand of his hair in front of his eyes. It, too, had suffered a color change. His individual hairs were alternately dark grey and silver.

He felt his heart speed up. This was a problem. A large problem. He would have to retreat to his lair in the Rockies until he could fix this and return to normal. Until then, he wouldn't be fit for the public eye; his secret would be on display for all to see.

After he confirmed that, at least, he still had access to all his powers, he flew up over the tops of the trees.

The island he had found himself above was large and unfamiliar. Trees stretched out below him in all directions, leaves whispering against each other in the faint ectoplasmic wind. Ugh. Well, he'd find something, or someone, familiar sooner or later. He had traveled through the Ghost Zone extensively while searching for the Skeleton Key.

He scanned the sky, looking for signs of civilization. There, so far away he could cover it with his thumb at arm's length, was a gathering of buildings. True, in the Ghost Zone that didn't mean much, what with all the ruins and the buildings that formed randomly from the ectoplasm, but Vlad didn't have all that much to go on. He'd take the risk.

.

Ellie had been high in the sky over Louisiana, looking forward to eating some of the famous cuisine of New Orleans, when she was briefly plucked out of reality, tumbled around, and redeposited in the Ghost Zone. Somewhat stunned, she merely floated for several long minutes.

But Ellie was nothing if not adaptable, and she quickly recovered enough to look around and try to figure out what had happened. Maybe she'd been sucked through a natural portal? That didn't quite feel right, but it wasn't as if she were an expert on natural portals.

She shrugged to herself and looked around. Cajun cooking would have to wait for another day. In the meantime, she could amuse herself in the Ghost Zone.

If she could find anything amusing, that is. This particular stretch of the Ghost Zone was depressingly empty. Or was it simply misty? It could be hard to tell.

She picked a direction at random and started flying.

.

It took Vlad longer than he would have liked to reach the little city. About halfway there, the wind had strengthened to a gale, blowing him back, away from the possibly-inhabited island. It had died again, just as Vlad crossed the island's shoreline.

At first, Vlad believed that the island was entirely uninhabited. No ghosts came out to greet him or drive him off. There was no movement behind the windows or doors. The streets were empty.

But, then, he discovered that all the island's residents had gathered on the far shore, floating together in a loose cloud. They were looking down, at something far below the island, occasionally pointing.

Not keen on drawing attention right away, Vlad gently pushed himself into invisibility. He approached the edge of the island cautiously, and with no little trepidation. Given the timing, this could very well be related to the disappearance of his portal and his sudden presence in the Ghost Zone.

Beneath the island, a long, slender finger of blue wove through the more typical ectoplasmic green.

Vlad frowned at the sight. A river, perhaps? But if that was the case, why were the locals so excited?

He couldn't get any information like this. Reluctantly, he turned visible.

"Excuse me," he asked a relatively quiet ghost in full Roman legionnaire armor. "I've only just returned to the Ghost Zone, and everyone seems rather excited. Do you know what's going on?"

"Coronation," said the ghost, breathless even for one of the dead.

Vlad frowned. "Pardon?"

"Coronation!" exclaimed the ghost. The other chattering ghosts fell silent, and turned towards the legionnaire.

"Are you sure?" asked a green-skinned young woman in a toga, her pale yellow eyes huge. "Coronation?"

"It could be nothing else!" proclaimed the legionnaire.

"What do you mean, a coronation?" asked a ghost in more modern clothes. "As in, a king? This isn't going to be another one of those things where we all run away, is it?"

"No!" said the legionnaire, wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders. "This calls for celebration! A new king has been chosen and crowned!" He tossed his helmet into the air, and it reformed on his head a moment later. "The Realms shall heal from their wounds, and a new age will dawn!"

Vlad fought down a stab of jealousy. Once, he had hoped to gain that position. Well, he could determine how to turn the Zone's new political circumstances to his advantage later, when he was at his leisure. For now, he had more immediate concerns.

"Heal from their wounds?"

"Yes!" said the legionnaire, excited, his head bobbing. "After a coronation, the King's Grace sweeps through the land. Ghosts are called home! The tears are healed!"

"The tears- Surely, you don't mean the portals."

"I do, at that," said the legionnaire, grave in a way only a ghost could pull off. "That is what happened last time. Oh, that I am so lucky as to see a new king rise. May he be a kind one!"

"The portals have closed?" pressed Vlad. "All of them?"

"Yes, all of them."

"For how long?"

"When Pariah Dark took the throne," said the ghost, "it was a good century, at least."

"No," said Vlad. "I can't be away from the mortal world for that long!"

The legionnaire patted Vlad's shoulder consolingly. "Family in the other world? Friends? It is hard to leave such things behind, but, well, memento mori. They will return to you in time! Be glad instead! This is a happy occasion!"

With that, the legionnaire was borne off by his fellows. Vlad could hear some of the ghosts already making plans for a party.

"Wait," he said, snagging one of them by the elbow. He braced himself slightly, expecting to have to field an ectoblast. Instead, the ghost, a middle-aged woman with an elaborate coif, merely looked at him quizically. "Do you know the way to the Fenton Portal?" he asked, desperately. "The permanent ghost portal, guarded by Phantom."

"Oh, thinking that one might not be sealed?" asked the woman. "Best of luck to ye. It's off that way," she pointed. "When ye reach the Seven Obelisks, bend right, so you're aiming between Red Mountain and Mammoth Island.

"Ah," said Vlad, "I know the place. Thank you." And then he did a double take, because when was the last time he had genuinely thanked anyone?

He shook his head and flew, as fast as he could.

.

Luckily for Ellie, a great wind kicked up shortly after she began flying and blew off most of the mist, letting her see clearly. She did have to take shelter for a moment behind a large floating boulder, to avoid being tumbled head-over-heels by the wind, but that was a minor inconvenience at best.

It did however, mean that she had a chance to look at herself and realize that she was wearing her human clothing. Weird. She had definitely been in ghost form when she got sucked in here, and she could have sworn she had still been in it. She tried to change. Couldn't.

Oh, this could be bad. What if she was destabilizing again? She needed to find Danny. He'd know what to do.

When the wind died back, Ellie peered out, and spotted what looked like a village in the distance. She flew to it, as quickly as she could, though it still took a distressingly long time to reach, nearly an hour.

The people of the town appeared to be in the midst of setting up for some kind of party. Normally, Ellie would love to stay, find out what was going on, and participate in any way she could, but the whole 'I might melt' thing really wasn't conducive to that.

"Excuse me," she said, flagging down a matronly woman. "Do you know how I can get to Phantom's Portal?"

"Why," said the woman, "you're the second person to ask me that today. Ye just go that way until ye reach the Seven Obelisks, then bend right, so you're aiming between Red Mountain and Mammoth Island. Keep on going straight 'til you hit it. If it's still there, you won't be able to miss it."

"Second person?" asked Ellie. "Who was the first? Did he look like me, but a bit older?"

"He had similar hair, aye," said the woman, nodding.

Ellie smiled. Maybe Danny was here and she'd be able to catch up to him.

"Thanks!" she said, brightly, before bounding off.

It was not until she reached the obelisks that she thought to wonder what the woman meant by 'if it's still there.'

Well. It probably wasn't important, anyway.

After a few hours, Ellie had reached more familiar territory, though she still hadn't caught sight of Danny. Her anxiety was building. She didn't want to melt. Not again.

She was so focused on that thought that she didn't notice the myriad tiny and not-so-tiny changes creeping through the Zone. The blue swirls, the more vibrant plant life, the slight alterations in the orbits of the islands, the way the whole atmosphere of the Zone seemed less foreboding, friendlier.

Finally, she reached the stretch of the Ghost Zone where the portal should have been located, but the whole space was...

Empty.

The portal wasn't there.

She reached up to seized her hair in her hands. How could it not be there?

A few strands in her hair fell in front of her eyes. It was striped, white and black. Oh, Ancients, it was spreading.

And then, to her horror, the voice of the person she least wanted to see split the near-silence.

"Danielle?"

.

Vlad sat on an boulder, staring at the space the Fenton Portal should have occupied.

He wasn't despairing. He was planning. If a portal could be made from that side of the veil, surely he could make one from this side. If he couldn't do so with technological means, there were mystical ones. Before resorting to that, however, he should try and find ghosts with the ability to make portals. He knew that some existed, though he had never encountered any directly, himself, with the exception of Pariah Dark.

Speaking of the old king... Perhaps dethroning the new one would make the portals reopen. A fight with the new king, whoever he may be, wasn't something that he would enter into lightly, but if all else failed...

His eyes returned to the former location of the portal, and he clenched his fists. He couldn't be trapped here for a hundred years. He just couldn't. It was unthinkable. Too horrible to contemplate.

A small figure flew into view. A familiar figure.

It couldn't be. But why not? If he had been sucked in here by the coronation of the new king, then why not the other two half ghosts?

He flew forward. "Danielle?" he called.

The girl turned. Clearly, she had been crying.

"Vlad!" she exclaimed, with venom. Her eyes narrowed in something approximating concern. "What happened to you? Are you destabilizing, too?"

Ah, and there was a theory to haunt his nightmares. "Not to the best of my knowledge," he said, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. "I presume you were also brought here by the coronation?"

"The what?" asked Danielle, drifting backwards, hands up, ready to block or deliver a blow.

Vlad rolled his eyes. "The ghosts have crowned a new king. Why now, rather than all the years Pariah Dark slept, I have no idea. Regardless, it has had certain effects on the Ghost Zone, and," he looked at his blotchy hand with distaste, "apparently, us. You aren't destabilizing."

"That's what you'd like me to think," said Danielle.

Vlad scoffed. "Please. I don't care what you think. I don't suppose you've seen Daniel? I suspect he's been brought here as well."

"No," said Danielle.

"And you wouldn't tell me even if you had, hmm?" said Vlad. "I'm not interested in picking a fight with him. For the moment, we have the same goals: return to the mortal world."

"How do you know what his goals are?"

"Have you seen how he dotes on that town of his?" asked Vlad. "Not to mention his dolt of a father. Of course he wants to go back."

"Assuming he's even here," grumbled Danielle. Even so, she relaxed her guard.

"Well," said Vlad. "Where is he?"

"I already told you, I don't know."

Vlad frowned. "Then, if you were he, where would you be? It should be easy for you to deduce. It is, after all, what you were designed for."

Danielle tilted her chin up, defiantly, nostrils flaring, but she reigned in her temper. Doing so was the one thing in which she had surpassed her original. "Knowing Danny and his luck, he's probably right at the center of all this."

Vlad angled himself towards the place where all the blue swirls were radiating from. "Of course he is."

.

The two half ghosts arrived at what had once been Pariah's Keep.

"Wow," said Ellie. "This is different." She craned her head back, trying to take the whole thing in. "Reminds me more of a palace than a keep, now."

"What would you know?"

"Excuse me? I've been to Europe? I know the difference."

Ancients, she wished she wasn't as worried about Danny as she was, but if he was trapped or something she'd need Vlad's firepower to break him out.

Cautiously, the pair moved closer to the palace. It wasn't empty.

"Shades," said Vlad, his voice low. "Not true ghosts. They follow the will of the one who casts them. In this case, most likely the king. I would have expected more of a crowd than this, though, considering how recently he was crowned."

"Yeah, like, a party or something," agreed Ellie. "But this place looks really big, maybe they're all just inside?"

"Perhaps," said Vlad.

"So, do we sneak in, or what?"

"No," said Vlad. He smiled, thinly. "I believe I will request an audience. Perhaps I'll offer my services."

.

The audience was denied, and all other attempts to gain access were rebuffed, firmly, but with a gentleness not often found in the Ghost Zone. The shades only had one thing to say: Return when the king wakes.

Not having many other options, Vlad and Ellie adopted an uneasy truce as they searched for Danny- or at least his allies. They had similar needs, after all, as they both had a human half.

Uneasy was definitely the key word.

Danny's allies had made themselves frustratingly scarce. Vlad was contemplating an attempt to establish himself in a community, or at least make a base of operations.

A week and a half later, one of the shades came to them.

The king wakes, it said.

It was practically an invitation. Ellie wasn't convinced accepting it was a good idea, at this point, but she had to admit that she didn't know where else to look for Danny. He had to have come through. Every other ghost and half ghost had, right down to the smallest blob.

They went back to the palace. A shade led them through perfumed gardens and past tinkling water fountains. Ghostly insects played among luminous flowers. Detailed statues marked turns in the path, and the rest of the stonework was carved just as intricately. A distant wind chime sounded once every minute or so, presaging the arrival of light gusts of air.

They were brought to a small circular paved area that was lined with benches. Two ghosts, real ghosts, stood on either side of one of those benches. That bench was occupied by a small, slender figure. A crown of glassy flowers and silver vines adorned his striped hair.

He turned slightly, slowly, to face them.

Ellie couldn't restrain a gasp. Danny was missing an eye.

[mockingjayne12]

Anchor: The Whole World Is Sleeping...

(Jamie x Claire / Outlander Fic)

(PART ONE)

(PART TWO)

The anxiety circles, beginning in her stomach, gurgling its presence known before clawing its way to her head, racing to her heart, twirling the fear of the unknown into knots that tense her entire body, tingling pains numbing the tips of her fingers.  It leads to the shaking of her hands, as if discarding the thoughts with a flick of her wrist, but instead of dissipating, they’re static against her, refusing to leave - fear clinging to be reality.

Usually, Jamie was there to ease the anxiety with a soft touch, the heat of him igniting the cold dread in her to that of a content warmth.  Her usual fears, the ones that have long since settled into her being, have taken a backseat to the tiny baby nestled within her, causing her morning to start with retching, and her nights ending not much differently.  It was as if she were purging the fear from herself, every bout of nausea assuring her that this was normal, that their baby was alright.  She reveled in the tell tale signs, terrified that if they were to cease, the worst was to come.  And Jamie wasn’t there.

After the adrenaline of Isaiah and Kezzie’s surgeries had worn off, there was very little to distract the thoughts that she had once managed to stave off.  That is until she rested her head on her pillow - every haunting thought of doom blinding her in nightmares that had her waking in a panic, the warning sound of dripping water and a terrifying grimace of a face she can’t quite place fading in a drowsy haze, her hand flying to her still flat stomach, the thought this is it passing more than once, her grip becoming tighter around the bunching of her shift beneath her palm.  The haunting images happened so often, they gathered in her chest with worry, leaving her curling into herself in the small bed she’d fashioned in her surgery on nights when Jamie wasn’t there with her.  She’d long since abandoned trying to fall asleep in the giant indentation his body had left in their bed, find it suffocating her in his absence rather than enveloping her in its warmth.  Being without Jamie was always difficult, like tearing at stitches of an old wound that never quite healed, but being without Jamie with the fear that at any moment something could happen to him, to the baby, it left her wanting.  Her fingers instinctually grasping for him on the empty side of a bed he’d never slept in, needing to feel the steady beat of his heart, trace the contours of a face she hadn’t seen since leaving Brownsville.

Scheduling her days with as many tasks as possible tended to be the best course of action, wearing her body tired tending to the garden, continually baking loaves of bread, and taking in as many patients as she could.

Lifting the glass casing to place another piece of bread underneath, her vision goes starry, black enveloping her vision, white blurry wings she swears she’s seen before, float across her eyes, the silhouette of the window she’d last seen visibly floating away from her, and she grips the table.  Her knuckles turn white, bringing her other hand around to gather her bearings before her vision returns.

A deep breath comes over her, exhaled only when she feels a hand on her back.  She nearly jumps at the intrusion, immediately knowing the hand is not the touch from whom she wishes it to be.

“Claire, ye alright?”  The woman who’d become her right hand worriedly asks, literally offering her a hand as she balances precariously on the ledge before her.  “Lord, Claire, you’re as a pale as that cloth,” she declares.  And she feels it, the slight sheen of sweat appearing across her forehead, as the nausea washes over her.

“I—I’m going to be…” she fumbles for the words, nearly pushing Marsali over trying to get out the door.  Her feet barely make it to the edge before the bile of having skipped a meal rises in her, tumbling out onto the dirt below, her curls tumbling over her shoulder, attempting to veil her discomfort, before they’re gathered in the hands of Marsali, holding them back as she heaves over.

“Thank you,” Claire gets out, using the back of her hand to wipe the sick from her lips, a grimace taking over her face, as she sits down on the bench usually reserved for patients.  Her head sinks back to the wood of the house, her eyes closing to the sailing of her mind, waiting for her body to sink back into normalcy, a small smile tugging at her lips, knowing that for the time being, all is well.

“You’re with child?  I didn’t even ken that was possible,” Marsali exclaims, the last part coming out as a whisper of confusion, causing Claire to still her movements, a tremble of truth at someone speaking the words into existence that wasn’t her or Jamie.  Cementing this child’s place in the universe — known.

Claire peeks one eye open to see Marsali’s face matching the same tone of her voice.  Her nose scrunched, her mouth all but hanging open, and her eyes shooting a glare at Claire’s stomach, buried beneath layers of apron, dress, and shift.  A sigh escapes through the taste of her sick, preparing for the onslaught of questions.

Jamie and Claire had agreed that they weren’t going to tell anyone, both under the guise of wanting to do so together, mainly concerning Bree.  But both knowing the risk involved, neither of them had voiced the dread they’d felt wrapping tightly around them like a noose, that by the time Jamie got home, there could be nothing left to tell.

“Oh, it’s possible,” she starts, briefly closing her eyes again, collecting herself, wrangling the fear to hide behind the tide of her eyes, shifting in blue.

It’s only after she feels the earth beneath her fingernails, the smell of life all around her, that she’s able to breathe deeply.  The task at hand, her garden, demanding her attention, and taking her mind off the genuine curiosity surrounding Marsali’s weary questions.  At one point the words, “I’m not that old,” having been said, only to see a tilt of the young woman’s head, and a slight roll of her eyes.  Claire huffs again in exasperation, sending the curly tendrils flying that have escaped from their knot at the base of her neck.

But by the end, what had begun as shock, quickly turned to that of concern, the trepidation unable to be masked in Claire’s voice, her usually steady hand only stilled from its tremble at Marsali grabbing ahold, gripping her fingers like a lifeline, a shared look between the two, a knowing squeeze of her hand, assuring each other that they would be there for the other, a secret knowing that only mothers share, silently passed between them.

“Good, because you’re going to be the one to perform the delivery,” quickly put the look of shock right back on the blonde’s face.

Claire almost laughs thinking of Marsali’s expression, but then the list of things she needs to teach her begin culminating in her mind, tinged with the anxiety of all the things that could wrong, the complications with Bree…with Faith, and she with absolutely no control of the situation, she feels the blurry wings of birds threatening to overtake her again, when she hears it.

The soft, but present gallop of a horse fast approaching her.  The sharp intake of anticipation clouds her lungs, and she finds she’s holding her breath.  Floating in the place between reality and a dream - for that brief moment she’s suspending between all she’s lost and that comes back to her.  The ache for the part of her heart that must venture out of her reach beats in her fingertips, as she itches to touch what’s real.

Looking up, her mouth curves into a smile before she knows what she’s doing, her body moving without volition towards the soul that she’d entangled her life with, so intricately sewn  into the very being of who she was, her arms wrap around her soldier, the proof of such a life resting between them.  The stress of the past few weeks melting away in his arms.

“Careful, Sassenach,” he warns, and her brow furrows with worry.

“What’s wrong?”  Her eyes immediately roam over him in search of injury, unprepared to be presented with a wounded heart.

But his face seems unconcerned, not necessarily a sign of his wellbeing, swells into a smile as she reaches for the bag slung over his arm.

With a glint in his eye, one hand reaches to pull out a fluff of meowing grey, the other coming to rest on her stomach.

“I got the wee bairn a gift.”

[gilbertandanne]

An (Un)Fortunate Lily Maid

A/N: Still working on the modern AU, but since I’m all up in my feels over season three still, I wanted to write a little post S3 one shot.  Takes place four months after the 3.10 finale.

Characters: Anne Shirley Cuthbert; Gilbert Blythe

Relationship: Anne Shirley Cuthbert/Gilbert Blythe

Rating: PG

Word Count: 5,345

Also located on AO3

-

Nearly four months after she first stepped into the next chapter of her life, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was finally back home.  Even though it was only for a few short weeks, she was grateful that would be able to spend more than one or two fleeting nights in her dear gable room.  Charlottetown was only a short train ride away, a fact that she was continuously grateful for because whenever missing her dear family simply became too much to bear, she’d use some of her travel fund to return home.

Not that she didn’t love Queen’s and all it afforded her.

In fact, she enjoyed it far more than she imagined she would.  Her homesickness was curbed for the most part due to the fact that most of her former classmates were there as well.  Most of the time, she could imagine that they were all back in the old schoolhouse, learning about things well outside the standardized curriculum from one of her greatest inspirations: her dear, Miss Stacy.

Inadvertently, she’d be pulled from her reverie by the ramblings of one professor or another.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like her teachers.  They were all well-esteemed in their own right, but what she wouldn’t give to turn the clock back a year—if only for a day.

The girls had flourished during those first few months in Charlottetown.  There had been a few minor tiffs amongst them over the last few months, which was natural given the fact that they were suddenly living with one another.  Whenever an argument popped up, Anne found herself grateful that she and Diana had yet to have any sort of conflict.  Perhaps their separation last spring afforded them the opportunity to see the bigger picture.  Anne was pleasantly surprised that Diana wasn’t bothered at all by her desire to ‘burn the midnight oil’, so to speak.  Anne spent most of her nights studying, reading, or—whenever the inspiration struck—writing.  Diana told her that she felt an odd sense of comfort in the soft glow of Anne’s lamp.  

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, being back at Green Gables was strange.  She was so used to sharing her room with her best friend that the last few nights without her were a little too quiet.  She was used to the girls’ raucous giggling and constant plotting on ways to skirt around Mrs. Blackmore’s rules.  To her credit, Anne abstained from most of their antics.  She had changed.  She wasn’t the same girl who snuck out in the middle of the night to dance around a fire or drink moonshine with the rest of her class.  No, she was too preoccupied with making the best marks she could so that, hopefully, she’d earn a scholarship and alleviate the financial burden of her education from her adopted parents.

Not to mention the fact that staying busy also helped her to miss him less.

Toronto wasn’t nearly as far away as Paris, but it might as well have been.

Anne wrote to him nearly every other day and given the frequency of the letters she received from him, she supposed that he had found a way to maintain the same pace.  She told him all about her quest to find her lineage and all that she discovered about her biological parents in the book Marilla and Matthew retrieved from Mrs. Thomas.  In return, Gilbert told her all about his studies, his new group of friends, and how Dr. Emily Oak had become his mentor.  Whenever Anne visited home, she’d report back to Gilbert on how Bash and Delphine were doing—although she was certain that he and Bash frequently wrote to one another.  She kept him up to date on all of the misadventures of their friends and assured him that she managed to stay out of mischief—for the most part.

It was almost as if he were there with her, but—she constantly had to remind herself—he wasn’t.  In fact, while she still had several follow-up questions from that fateful day outside of her boarding house, she had only ever asked a select few.  The most vital ones, the ones that had practically driven her mad, she never inquired about.  What if it had all been a dream?  She had pinched herself in the midst of it all, but had that been enough to ensure that her imagination hadn't invaded reality?  He never once said that he loved her, only that he had feelings for her.  Winifred was certain that his feelings for Anne were classified as love—she had even used that exact word in her explanation to Anne—but hearing it from someone else wasn’t the same as hearing it directly from the source.  He hadn’t once spoken of his feelings in any of his letters, so Anne held back, took his lead, and kept her correspondence light.

After all, they would be miles apart for God only knew how long.  A lot could change in that time.

Perhaps, it already had.

Frustrated with her current train of thought, Anne left the warmth of her dear Green Gables.  Maybe the frigid December air would help to clear her mind.  Matthew and Marilla had gone to Carmody for the day to run errands.  Diana and her family were out of town.  Gilbert wouldn’t be home for the holidays and the LaCroix family had gone to Charlottetown for a few days so that Constance and Jocelyn could see Delphine.

A sudden gust of wind immediately sent a chill down her spine; nevertheless, she persisted in her quest to visit her beloved Lake of Shining Waters.  The pond belonged to the Barry’s, but Anne often escaped to the pond to seek inspiration and get out of her own mind for a little while.  She had hoped Christmas in Avonlea would be so hectic that she wouldn’t have time to miss Gilbert Blythe, but everywhere she went, there he was.

Only, he wasn’t.

She half expected the pond to be frozen over by now but was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by its shimmering waters.  She greeted the water with a soft smile.  “At least you haven’t changed.”  It had been a relatively mild winter thus far.  The temperature hadn’t sunk far below freezing until just a few days earlier when the first snow of the season hit her beloved island.

As Anne walked around the pond, she recalled the first time she beheld its beauty.  It prompted her to pinch herself for the first of many times that day.  She couldn’t believe that she could ever live near such an enchanting place.  Even now, as she watched the water shimmer against the snow-covered ground, she stood in awe of this little spot.  As she made her way toward the Barry’s small dock, her gaze shifted to the small dory that rested right on the shore.  “My one regret,” she sighed as she walked toward it.  She was to be Elaine that unfortunate day, but Mrs. Barry stopped them from acting out Tennyson’s tragical tale.  

She bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced at the water before looking back at the small boat.  Granted, it would be more fun if the girls were with her, but Anne was well aware of the fact that she was only allowed a few more years of adolescent fun before she’d finally be forced to grow up.  Even now, she constantly heard that she looked grown up.  Sometimes someone would remark that she was grown up.  “I’m only 16,” she muttered as she inched closer to the small boat.  “Maturation doesn’t happen overnight.”  This could very well be the only chance she had to portray the lily maid.  No one was there to stop her this time.

Her mind made up, she dusted off the small layer of snow in the boat before she nudged it closer to the water.  She shivered as she removed the blanket she had wrapped around herself and laid it down on the boat.  She glanced at her coat.  Elaine certainly did not float down to Camelot in a coat.  “It’ll only be for a few minutes,” she rationalized before she unbuttoned it and sat it on the post next to the dory.  She carefully stepped onto the boat and sat at the edge.  She pushed herself off of the shore before she laid down, eager to coast along the pond.

The gray sky above her darkened as she stared at the clouds above.  It would be dark soon, but the train back from Carmody wouldn’t be at Bright River for a few hours yet.  

A few minutes into her trek, she slowly closed her eyes.  This was exactly what her soul needed: a moment of peace mixed in with a childish flight of fancy.  She smiled softly.  Perhaps, she didn’t have to grow up quite yet.  Just as she took a breath of that sweet Avonlea air, the boat tilted, and a rush of cold water suddenly splashed her from behind.

Anne’s eyes shot open and she immediately sat upright.  Her eyes widened when she realized that the boat must have had a hole in the bottom.  The small dory was quickly sinking and she, a mediocre swimmer at best, was in the middle of the pond.  The LaCroix’s were gone, the Barry’s were gone, and her adopted parents were out of town.  There was no one else around for miles.  

She desperately tried to row herself near one of the edges, but she was so anxious that the only oar she had slipped from her nearly frozen fingers and fell to the murky depths below.  Without another thought, she tried to row with her hands, to no avail.  The boat was simply taking on too much water.

Was this it?  Would this be her untimely end—just as she was on the cusp of the rest of her life?  She briefly hoped Marilla would remember her request to place pink roses on her grave.  She wondered if her loved ones would cry, would remember her fondly in the coming years.   She wondered if Gilbert would be able to come to the funeral, or if he’d even want to.  

When the boat finally dipped below the water line, Anne began to flail around in the frigid water.  As she gasped for air, her thoughts turned to her family.  As badly as she wanted to meet her biological parents, she had hoped she’d be able to spend a little more time with her adopted ones first.  Then, just before her frozen body succumbed to the pull of the lake she had loved for so long, she heard an all too familiar voice call out to her.  She tried to focus her gaze on the rapidly approaching figure, but couldn’t find the energy to.  It was all too much.  When she heard the sweet sound of her name on the caller’s lips once more, she smiled despite her situation.  

At least she got to hear his voice one last time.

~*~

She wasn’t sure how long she had been submerged under the freezing water.  It felt like days, but knew it was merely a few seconds before she felt a rush of air fill her lungs once again.  She gasped before she began to cough up the water from the pond.  She felt herself glide across the water, her frozen limbs securely wrapped around her savior.  Her hair was a drenched, a tangled mess that shielded her vision.  She focused her attention on breathing, on trying not to choke on the water that she continued to cough up.  She couldn’t feel much, only the sharp pang of the freezing water as it pierced her body.  

How could she have been so reckless?

By the time she reached the shore, she supposed that at least half of her body had gone completely numb from the water.  The other half ached from the battle she nearly lost with the pond she so dearly loved.  She couldn’t feel the coldness from the blanket of snow underneath her.  She couldn’t feel her fingers at all, but somehow managed to swipe the hair out of her face as she tried to force air through her lungs.  She focused her vision on the dark grey sky above.  Then, she heard her name once more.  She turned her head toward the sound.

Had she actually died?

She wouldn’t be able to feel it even if she possessed the energy to pinch herself, so she merely stared up at the concerned face that hovered over her.

“Anne, Anne, can you hear me?  Anne, please…nod if you can understand me.”

She slowly nodded, still unsure if she was in Avonlea or if she had been ushered into the next world.  She never thought heaven would look just like Avonlea, but how else would it explain the presence of someone who should be a thousand miles away?

“I’ll be right back,” he assured her before he sprinted away.  Anne shifted her attention back up toward the sky as she tried to steady her rapidly beating heart.  

By the time he returned, she was able to move her lips.  As he wrapped his jacket, as well as a blanket, around her, she tried to focus on her words.  “W-W-W-What are y-y-you d-d-d-oing-g-g—”

He gave her a small smile before he slowly helped her up.  When she stumbled, he made the decision to pick her up and carry her.  “I could ask you the same question,” he answered as he made his way toward the carriage.  “You need to get warm before you catch pneumonia.”

“Not at—not at G-G-Green Gables,” she huffed, frustrated that she couldn’t seem to control her stammer at the moment.  “I don’t want…Matthew…Marilla.”

Gilbert nodded as he helped her in the buggy.  He understood what she meant without needing to explain further.  She didn’t want them to see her so disheveled because then she’d be forced to explain how she ended up in the pond in the first place.  “We’ll go back to my place then.”

Anne shivered in response.    

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he responded before he grabbed the reigns and ushered them toward the Blythe-LaCroix farm.

~*~

Anne had regained feeling in most of her fingers and toes by the time they reached Gilbert’s house.  She was still freezing and drenched head to toe, but maybe she wouldn’t end up with frost bite.

She managed to get into the house without any assistance from the concerned medical student.  As soon as he closed the door behind him, Gilbert hurried toward the fireplace.  “We need to get you warm,” he commented before he turned back to look at her.  He noticed the state of her clothing and took a deep breath.  “You need to change out of those clothes.  They’re soaked.”

Anne glanced down at her appearance.  “But Matthew and Marilla, I—”

“Just…long enough to dry them off,” he clarified.  “Follow me.”

Anne followed him wordlessly up the stairs.  She had been in his house dozens of times, but never once had she ventured upstairs.  Although she couldn’t be certain, she had a feeling exactly where she was headed.  At the mere thought, she shivered.

She lingered in the doorway, even as Gilbert went into—she presumed—his room.  She watched curiously as he pulled a few things from a couple of drawers.  “These will probably be a little loose,” he began as he gestured to the pants in his hands, “So, you can wear these with them,” he reached for a pair of suspenders.  “I…um…if you don’t know how to…” he stopped his movements when he realized just what he was trying to say.  Dear God, was he about to suggest that he could help her put his suspenders on?  He laughed nervously.

“I know,” she answered just as bashfully.  “This wouldn’t…um…this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worn men’s clothes.”

Gilbert’s head snapped up to look at her.  “What?”

“Um…it was two years ago…when you came back from Trinidad with Bash and my hair was…” she sighed.  “You know what?  Long story…it doesn’t matter.”

Gilbert was definitely curious about what sort of adventure led her to wear men’s clothing.  To be honest, he wanted to know everything he could about her.  He had been curious about the redhead since the day they met, and now, nearly four years later, she still seemed like an enigma most of the time.  “Ok.  Well, I’ll…leave you...to it…I guess.”  He handed her the clothes and gave her a small smile before he walked out of the room and back down the stairs.

Anne looked down at the clothes and sighed.  How did she always end up in these predicaments?

~*~

Even though she had never worn suspenders before, she figured out how to attach them very quickly, much to her relief.  She simply had no other option.  If she couldn’t figure it out, then she would have found something else to cinch the waist of the slightly-too-large-for-her pants.  There was no way she’d ask Gilbert to help her put on clothes—even if those clothes were his.  ‘Oh, if Marillia saw this,’ she cringed before she looked up at herself in the mirror.  She smirked as she slowly examined her appearance.  The clothes were too big on her, but still, she couldn’t help but to admire the fashion.  Miss Stacy was the only other woman she had seen in suspenders and trousers before and while Anne admired the look, she knew she’d never get away with that—at least, while she was still at Queen’s.  Her smile widened as she turned around to get a full look at herself.  Miss Jeannie did say that trousers were the ‘it’ fashion in Paris.  Perhaps the style would make its way overseas and it wouldn’t be so abnormal for a woman to wear them.  Even though she couldn’t forget whose clothes they belonged to, she still found them quite comfortable.  

As she helplessly tried to tame her tangled locks into a single loose braid, she wondered how long it would take for her clothes to dry.  She wasn’t sure if Matthew and Marilla were back yet.  If so, she knew it would still be a little while before they would begin to worry about her.  Still, she hadn’t seen Gilbert since that day outside of her boarding house and she wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were anymore when it came to their relationship.

Besides, she hadn’t expected to see him at all until next spring.  She thought she still had a few more months of self-doubt to process before she was forced to pretend that she hadn’t thought about those stolen moments every single day since he left.  She reached for her wet clothes.  If her need for adventure hadn’t gotten in the way, she’d be curled up with a book in the safe confines of her room instead of sporting Gilbert Blythe’s clothes in his bedroom.

‘You’ll learn one day,’ she told herself as she walked toward the door.  Before she left, she spun around and took one last look around his room.  ‘Yes,’ she concluded, ‘This is exactly how I imagined it.’

She shifted her clothes under her arms as she descended the stairs.  When she entered the parlor, she realized that Gilbert’s back was toward her as he stoked the fire.  “Thank you.”

At the sound of her voice, Gilbert stood up and turned around.  He opened his mouth to speak, but instead, could only take in Anne’s appearance.  He had thought her beautiful since the day he first saw her, but there was something about the way she looked in that moment—clad in his own clothes, no less—that nearly took his breath away.  It was the first moment he allowed himself any amount of time to process the fact that they were sharing the same space for the first time since that frantic day in Charlottetown.  He had imagined their reunion going a hundred different ways, but never once had he conjured this up.  

He cleared his throat as he forced himself to look down at the clothes in her arms.  “I can go…hang those up.”

Anne took one look at her clothes before she shook her head.  “No, no…I can do it.”

“Oh, ok.  Well, I’m making some tea, so maybe I should go…see if that’s…if that’s ready.”

Anne watched him curiously as he practically stumbled toward the kitchen.  It was equal parts amusing and endearing to see Gilbert Blythe quite literally falling over himself.  She smirked as her gaze fell back to her clothes.  She could get used to seeing him like that.

What she wouldn’t be getting used to any time soon would be Gilbert Blythe seeing her undergarments.  She inwardly groaned as she began to hang up her clothes.  There was no way around it.  She needed to dry her clothes and the quickest way to do that was to hang them by the fire.  She tried to hide her corset underneath her dress the best way she could.  She wasn’t sure if they were courting, but even if they were, she was certain that he most certainly wasn’t permitted to see her corset, even if she wasn’t wearing it.

Her cheeks reddened at the thought.

Just as she sat her shoes in front of the fireplace, she heard him re-enter the room.  She brushed a loose tendril away from her eyes before she took the offered teacup in his hands.

He silently gestured toward the couch, but once Anne sat down, instead of sitting next to her, Gilbert sat on the chair in the corner of the room.

Anne tried to mask her disappointment.  Maybe he wasn’t that excited to see her after all?  She furrowed her eyebrows as her mind immediately jumped to several different conclusions.  Maybe she had over-romanticized what happened between them four months ago?  After all, he failed to mention it in any of his letters.

And now she was sitting in in the same room with him—alone—and in his clothes.

Unable to handle her spiraling train of thought for another moment, she looked down at her teacup.  “So, why didn’t you tell me that you were going to come back for Christmas?”

He chuckled before he took a sip of his tea.  “So, how did you end up in the middle of the pond?”

Anne cringed.  She should have known that was coming.  Some things never changed.  He always found a way to see her at her absolute worst.  At the same time, she knew that he was well aware of who she was and the fact that catastrophe seemed to follow her in spades.  “A few years ago, Diana, Ruby, Jane, and I were going to re-enact Elaine’s final voyage from ‘Lancelot and Elaine’, but just before we could, Mrs. Barry came out and…we weren’t able to.”  She paused to take a sip of her tea.  “Matthew and Marilla were in Carmody, I knew the Barry’s were out of town and with Bash and Delly being gone, I was…bored.  I remembered that I never got to act it out and when I saw that the pond wasn’t frozen over, I decided that…it was now or never.”  She turned her attention to the fire in front of her.  “There must have been a hole at the bottom.”

“And…it sunk.”

She nodded.  “And while Matthew tried to teach me how to swim…once…I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.”

“You can’t expect to be an expert at something after one lesson.”

She chuckled.  “Well, you know me…”

He nodded with a smirk before his smile completely melted into a look of concern.  “Anne, you could have died out there.  If I hadn’t—”

“I know,” she calmly interrupted as she stared at her teacup.  She didn’t want to think about what would have happened had he not been there.  “Thank you…for…for saving me.  I had already accepted my fate and…wait.”  She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked up at him.  “Why were you there?”

“Well, I was…on my way to Green Gables, actually,” was his sheepish reply.

There it was again.  That sheepish little smile that immediately sent a thrill down her spine.  “I thought you were going to stay in Toronto until the term was over?”

He sighed before he sat his cup down on the end table next to the chair.  “That was the plan, initially, but I…” he trailed off.

Anne swallowed as she sat her cup down on the table in front of her.  Was this it?  Did he come all this way to let her down, to insist that what happened that beautiful day in Charlottetown was merely a flight of fancy and nothing more?  “You…” she trailed on in an attempt to prompt his response.

“Thanks to the Barry’s, we had a…fruitful harvest.  I was able to use some of the extra money to come back for a few weeks before the spring term begins.”

“That’s great.  I mean…I’m sure you missed Bash and Delly.”

He slowly nodded.  “But…they weren’t the only ones.”  He cut his eyes up to her to gauge her reaction.  Four months.  Four long months without her.  God.  How did he ever make it a year?

Anne didn’t need for him to elaborate.  The look in his eyes said it all and she was fairly certain that it mirrored that of her own.  She, the girl who not a year earlier swore that her destiny was to be the bride of adventure, now saw a completely different future unfolding before her very eyes.  Still, he had never been so open with his emotions in any of his letters.  She cleared her throat.  “Oh?”

Propriety be damned, he couldn’t take it anymore.  He stood up only to move to the couch and sit next to her.  He hesitated for a brief moment before he placed his left hand over both of hers, which were neatly folded in her lap.  “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

Anne looked down at their joined hands before she looked back up at him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  I kept…I kept hoping you would, but after a while, I just assumed that we were…that it…that we…weren’t.”

“I had hoped you would, especially after the letter I left in your room…when you didn’t mention it, I thought—”

“What letter?”

“The day before harvest.  I stopped by Green Gables, but no one was there, so I…I wrote you a letter. You told me that you got the pen back so I—”

Anne grimaced.  “Oh.  Well, I…I didn’t read the letter.”

Gilbert took a deep breath.  Months.  He had spent months worrying about what he had said, if it had been too much too soon, if he scared her away.  He well remembered what Diana told him that day on the train, but he had yet to hear it from Anne.  What if Diana had been wrong this entire time?  What if she didn’t reciprocate the feelings he had for her?  Now, to find out that she never read the letter in the first place?  It was a lot to take in at once.  “Why,” was the only word he was able to utter.

It was Anne’s turn to grow sheepish as she glanced back at the fire.  “I…um…I thought you had written it to tell me about your engagement to Winifred and I…I got mad because I thought…I figured with news that big that you would have…told me yourself instead of writing…a letter.”  She watched the flames dance along the log and wondered what the contents held.  “After I tore it up, I threw it out the window.  Then…my curiosity got the better of me and I…I tried to find the pieces.  From what I could find and piece back together, I assumed that you…that you two were…and then I bumped into Winifred the day you…and she told me what happened.”

He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised.  He had been on the receiving end of Anne’s temper on more than one occasion, but never, in all of the days when he tried to rationalize the reason why she never responded, had he imagined that she never read it.  “Oh.”

“But…I’m willing to listen if you…if you remember what it said.”

He looked up at her.  When he wrote it, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again.  Now, it was four months later, and there they were.  He didn’t want to scare her, especially because he wasn’t certain how she felt.  Besides, it’d be years before he could ever offer her anything.  He shook his head as a playful smirk crossed his features.  “That’ll teach you to rip up my letters.”

Anne’s eyes widened.  “Gilbert Blythe!  I wasn’t the only one who failed to receive a letter.  I wrote you one as well.”

“That I never received,” he argued.  “You had mine in your hands.”  He waited a beat.  Even though he knew more about her letter than she knew about his, he still wanted to hear it from her.  “What did yours say?”

She wasn’t sure what Diana told him.  Her bosom friend remained tight-lipped about the conversation she had with Gilbert that day, but still, she didn’t want to go back to Queen’s not knowing where she stood with Gilbert Blythe and given the number of people they would see over the coming weeks, she figured this would be their only opportunity to speak so freely.  “I…I apologized.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.  “For what?”

“For…for being confused…that night at the ruins.  I was just…shocked and…drunk and I couldn’t…think and then the girls pulled me away and I—”

“It’s ok,” he assured her.  “My timing wasn’t the best.”

“Mine neither,” she admitted.  

“Anything else,” he asked hopefully.

She looked into his eyes for a long moment.  She could feel her palms clam up and knew that everything hinged upon his reaction to her next words.  “I said that I wasn’t confused anymore and that…that I love you.”

Even though they had kissed, had admitted that they had feelings for one another, had written to one another every other day since their separation, the joy he felt at hearing her say the actual words was indescribable.  

Still, she wrote that letter months ago.  So much could have changed between then and now.  “And…and now?”

Anne searched his eyes for only a moment before she spoke.  “I’m still in love with you.  More than when I wrote that—” Her words were abruptly cut off as he pressed his lips against hers.  

How many times had she thought about this very moment over the last four months?  How long had she fretted that it wouldn’t be the same, that the memory couldn’t possibly hold up to reality, but now, after having had a very real brush with death, Anne knew that it was her memory that had completely failed her.  This was so much more than she could possibly remember.  The way she felt, the surge of electricity that soared through her veins.  She could feel herself flush under the intensity.

But still—

As sweet as it felt, and even though it spoke volumes, she needed to hear it.  She needed to know.  So, she slowly pulled away from him and opened her eyes.  She waited until he opened his before she looked down at her hands.  “W-What about you?”

He gave her a small smile as he tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear.  “It’s always been you, Anne…my Anne with an E.”

[nitholites]

Day 6- Flower Shop/ Tattoo Artist AU (really really late, ik, but I'm done editing it cuz it's driving me mad)

(in this one, I replaced Goro with a different detective, to remain nameless. They weren't Shido's kid, but was screwed by him so they took on Akechi's plan while Pancake Boi took a different route for revenge. After the end, though, he gave up on the plan when Shido went to jail)

The buzz of the tattoo machine filled the air, constant and usual. The inked art came to life against the woman's skin, careful designs and colors seamlessly filling the requested space. Handling the machine and making the art come to life was one Akira Kurusu, his curly black hair held back in a messy bun and his dark, loose tank top showing the tattoos he had along his upper body. His arms didn't have many- mostly on his inner forearm and simple designs, but with bold colors and shading. They were somewhat random and increasing in quality. On his back, however, the real art started.

Little could be seen of his back that day- just the back of his shoulders. But it was enough to give anyone the impression there had to be more. On his right shoulder, what looked like the top of a skeletal pirate sat, permanent grin cocky and easy as a pipe lay between his shoulders. On the left, a red panther tail curled towards the back of his neck, the head turned towards anyone behind him and ending at the edge of his back. The seemingly incomplete art made people wonder what was on his back.

His friends knew exactly what it looked like, seeing as they all pitched in.

The panther stood, flames dancing around it. The pirate had no ship, riding on lightning. Below and on top of the lightning was a white fox, dark and light blue accents coating it's fur as ice provided a step for it. Beneath the panther on the other side of the fox was a masked queen in grays with neon blue accents, holding a spiked staff towards the middle, dissapering behind the one in the middle and reappearing right before the fox. In the middle was a mostly black and gray humanoid, red gloves held up as though it were pulling one tighter as small, curved, red horns escaped beneath its mask and hair. Beneath it all was a vigilante wearing pink, a black cat curled around her shoulders and an intelligent gleam in it's blue eyes. To the left of the cat and vigilante was a dark book with lime accents, binary barely visible unless you got a good look at it. It lay on his left hip, pages appearing open only to the other figures above and around it.

He and Yusuke had spent about a week on the design, confirming it with their friends before each of them- minus Morgana- got a matching one either the same size or smaller and in various parts of their bodies.

On Akira's front, hidden beneath his shirt and on his right hip, lay the Phantom Thieves symbol, the iconic 'Take Your Heart' directly beneath it.

He couldn't steal hearts anymore, but he and his friends would always be the Phantom Thieves.

The bell above the door jingled, letting in the bustle of the underground mall for a moment. Akira didn't waste any time, hands steady with practice as he let his attention slightly fade. "Just a minute," he called over the rock/jazz music playing in the background. At that moment, Rivers in the Desert was playing.

In a moment, he turned the machine off, wrapping up what he needed to do to make sure the red heart with the name 'Saki' stayed permanent. He quickly recited care for the tattoo to the woman, who nodded and gave her full attention before standing and leaving. He walked her to the front, sliding behind the counter as the bell jingled when she left. He stood comfortably behind the counter, turning down the music. "Hi, welcome to Thieves of Arts, how can I help you," he recited, taking in shoulder-length brown hair and red eyes. He recognized the young man, of course. The person who worked the small flower shop across the street was nice enough from what the owner said. Hard-working and reliable, just like Akira had been when he worked there a couple years ago. Back then, he had four paying jobs- the Phantom Thieves couldn't pay for everything from Palaces, especially in the beginning- with one being in the same flower shop the man was working in. After everything with Mementos, life went on as normal- Akira went back to Shujin after a long talk with his parents, who agreed to give Sojiro full custody over him after a long debate, and spent his last year with his friends and working in Leblanc. After, he officially quit his part-time jobs and decided to do what he wanted- which was, surprisingly, open a tattoo shop. He used part of his- admittedly- large savings to get the place, pay the bills, and get the equipment, learning what he could from an old aquaintance before making his goal a reality. Before opening shop, he practiced quite a bit on himself and willing customers, glad his artistic childhood kicked in a bit to help him adapt faster.

He still helped out in Crossroads when Lala-chan needed and in the flower shop when the owner was sick or couldn't come in- in her words, he knew more about flowers than she did at that point.

But, surprisingly enough, this was the first time he talked with the other employee. "Actually, Hanasaki-san said you could help with the flower shop?"

Akira nodded, brow furrowing as he pulled out his phone, noting the missed texts from the kind lady herself. "Oh, yeah! Sorry, I put my ringer off when I'm working," he explained, quickly replying before sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Yeah, I'll help you. Just lemme close up real quick." He effortlessly slid through the parlor, quickly cleaning and putting away what he had to as the young man called after him.

"You don't have to! I'd hate to cause you trouble."

"It's nothing," he easily replied, fishing his keys from his pockets. "I owe Hanasaki a favor, anyway." He led the man out of the shop, quickly locking it behind them before following the man to the flower shop, taking note of the lists of requests lining the counter. "Right, I got the ones with meanings. Get the colors and size ones. Do you know what the flowers here mean?"

"For the most part," he said, glancing through the lists.

"Good. When you're done with the color and size, help out with the meanings you know, okay?" The man nodded and they got to work, silently working alongside each other.

A couple hours later, all of the arrangements were picked up and Akira was leaning back on the counter, letting his breath escape him. "Man, that was the fastest I've had to work since busy days in the beef bowl shop," he commented, running a hand through his hair. The man laughed slightly, equally as worn. "I never got your name, by the way." Surprise floated the man's face, but he responded.

"Sorry about that. I'm Goro Akechi."

"Akira Kurusu," he responded easily, giving the man a nod. "Aren't you that kid detective who retired last year?" Akechi nodded.

"I'm surprised anyone remembers. Public opinion is a fickle thing." Akira snorted, nodding.

"Ain't that the truth. So, why are you working in a flower shop, mister detective?" It had been years since Akira called anyone that, but he refused to let memories cloud the present again.

"I like the atmosphere here," Akechi responded with an obviously fake smile (obvious to Akira, who studied people like learning materials in his free time, anyway). "Hanasaki-san could use the help, anyway."

Akira hummed, but let the subject drop, allowing his mind to briefly wander. "You look tired," he observed. "I know a place with amazing coffee, if you want."

Akechi paused, gazing curiously at the younger man. "I'm often busy..."

"Then I can leave you the address," Akira easily responded, already pulling a pen and small notebook out from behind the counter by reaching over it. "It's not far, and has an atmosphere as great as the coffee. You may get a discount if you mention me." He scribbled an address he knew well on the paper, ripping it out and holding it to the ex-detective.

"Leblanc?"

"I hear it's French," Akira explained, shrugging. "Don't doubt the coffee curry combo till you've tried it, though," he warned, pushing off the desk. He glanced at the clock, noting the time before lifting the apron off of him, hanging it back where he got it. "I'm gonna go. Give it a chance when you've got the time, alright?"

With that, he swept out of the shop.

[sexyenquirer]

Copper and Silver

Author: kiranatrix For: missmomentss Pairing/Characters: Beyond Birthday/L Lawliet Rating/warnings: M; mild smut Prompt: L/B mild smut Author’s notes: The prompt wasn’t very specific so I let my imagination wander. I didn’t want this to be the usual kind of L/B fic, so there’s no prison breakout or kidnapping or jam. This is a Magician AU that takes place in Paris in the late 1800s or early 1900s, where L is a famed illusionist and B is…an imposter. Or maybe it’s the reverse. ‘Copper and silver’ is the name of a magic trick, using coins.

—–

There had always been two types of magic in the world. One was quite real, but elusive, and more of a curse than a blessing on those who could channel it. The other was the magic of mankind– the sleight of hand or memory trick, the careful distraction and well-placed mirror. It was the business of the famed illusionist Lazarus, also (un)known as L Lawliet, that no one in his audience should ever know the difference. 

He’d been selling out his shows across Europe for nearly a decade, and from the Thames to the Danube, just the name of Lazarus invoked an aura of mystery and awe. He’d been invited to most of the major courts to amuse the nobility of the continent despite his own very humble birth. Not that anyone knew anything true about his origins; L’s backstory as the exiled bastard son of a Russian prince was his most carefully cultivated illusion. 

The vast majority of people who came to see him desperately wanted to believe in real magic to dull the edge of life’s mundane reality. This made them easy to fool with clever devices of his own invention. A lemon tree that seemed to grow from a seed before their eyes, sawing someone in half who was then put back together again unharmed, submerging himself in chains underwater only to escape at the last dramatic moment. Although each of his tricks did in fact have an explanation rooted in reality, competitors, skeptics, and scientists had all attempted to parse out the mechanisms to explain his illusions and all had left disappointed.  

L had not always believed in ‘real’ magic himself, but he’d never needed to. There’d never been any odd phenomenon he couldn’t eventually provide with a reasonable explanation. He considered himself a man of science and rationality, not someone who was willing to suspend disbelief for the sake of entertainment. He knew he was brilliant, and no one could be a better skeptic than he was of his own performances. Thus, his performances were inscrutable perfection start to end, each trick a thread for the audience to weave their own pretty blindfold with. 

But it took the eyes of a fake magician to know the real thing when he saw it, down a rainy street in Paris the afternoon before a show. He’d forgotten his umbrella, as usual, and had been darting from one sheltered overhang to another on his way back to his hotel when he saw a curious hand-painted board pointing down an oil lamp-lit alleyway. It was nearly as tall as he was, and upon it was was crudely scrawled:

    ~HAVE YOUR MISFORTUNES TOLD BY LAZARUS~

For one silver franc, the Incredible Lazarus will answer the following:

Your real and true name! (Great for orphans or just anyone who forgot!)

The day you will die! (Get your affairs in order!)

Whether anyone in a picture lives or is deceased, as well as their name! (Like deadbeat parents, runaway spouses, or people lost at sea!)

If you need a bath! (Free of charge!)

Guaranteed to be 100% accurate and true or twice your money back! (proof required)

Usually, L would roll his eyes at low-brow hucksters like this and be on his way, but this time was different. This time, someone had purloined his good name and was using it for cheap tricks! Anger and irritation bubbled up in him as he spied the queue to get into a door in the alley, but it was matched with a good dose of curiosity, too. Who in their right mind would so brazenly advertise these services when everyone knew the REAL Lazarus was in town and performing just down the street? The easy thing to do would be to announce at his own show later that this was just a fraud, an imitator, or simply ignore it altogether as the price of fame. 

No, L needed to see this for himself, confront the man. He walked towards the door, ignoring the line-up and grabbing a newspaper out someone’s hand to use as a makeshift umbrella. 

“Oi! I was reading that!” The man glared at L in surprise. 

“I’ll return it shortly.”

“Wha, sopping wet?!” The man pointed to the back of the queue. “And the line starts back–” He cut off abruptly to catch something L tossed his way, gaping down at a gold coin. He tested it with his teeth, piping down after that. 

When L got to the front of the line he announced, “Time for everyone to go home. This man is a fraud and not the true Lazarus. I am.” 

“We’ve been waiting an hour or more! Prove it!” The rest of the people chanted ‘Prove it! Prove it’ until L held up a finger and suddenly, the rain stopped. Amid their awed silence, he deftly folded the wet newspaper into an origami crane which he perched on his hand. He blew on it and it caught fire, the flame changing from white to blue as it floated away down the alley. The crowd parted to let it pass and then broke into an uproar of clapping and cheers as it exploded into a burst of sparks in the shape of an L. 

“How’d he do that?!”

“He MUST be the real Lazarus!” 

L slouched forward slightly in an approximation of a bow. What had seemed like magic to them was nothing more than noticing a break in the clouds and improvising, and a bit of phosphorus dust artfully sprinkled from his ring onto the wet paper. “Now, if you’ll all check your pockets, I believe you’ll find tickets to my show tonight. I invite you all as my guests.” It wasn’t really in his nature to give things away for free, or to be so polite, but he’d learned when being the showman Lazarus versus L Lawliet would get him his way the quickest.

The man who’d had his newspaper snatched hung back a moment as the others meandered away, smiling and excited. He thumbed at the closed door behind L, “Another coin and I’ll give that fraud a thrashin’ for ya.”

“No.” L turned and opened the door, stepping aside quickly as a woman in tears bustled past him. 

From further inside came the call, “Well, you asked!” followed by some soft cackling. “Next!”

L pressed a thumb to his bottom lip as he brushed aside a ratty tasseled curtain, his already large pupils widening to near blackness to adjust to the flickering candlelight. The darkness partially hid the ramshackle state of the room, and exotic-looking but cheap carpets were flung around to hide the rest. When he approached a table set in the middle of the room, L had to check that he wasn’t looking into a mirror. But no, his mirror image was seated and grinning like the cat that had caught the canary. 

“There’s not going to be anyone else.” L climbed into the opposite chair, perching in it as he was his habit when he wasn’t performing. “I sent them away.” He quickly scrutinized the man, looking for flaws in the disguise. They were approximately the same age, mid-20s, of similar built and features, although artful makeup and posture must be contributing to the effect. 

“Well, well, well…” Beyond Birthday gracefully moved into the same crouching position, mimicking each of L’s movements with precision but allowing his eyes to flick briefly above L’s head. “That was a very rude thing to do, don’t you think? I guess they all got soggy for nothing.”

“Stealing a person’s name and pretending to be them is what strikes me as rude.” L tilted his head, frowning when the imposter did the same. 

“A man’s gotta eat.” Beyond’s grin didn’t falter as he modulated his voice closer to L’s timbre and pitch. “And I wasn’t stealing it so much as…borrowing it. I suppose you can have it back now.” He had what he wanted– L’s presence and undivided attention at last. 

“I don’t appreciate it being stolen OR borrowed.” L squinted in the darkness, both unnerved and impressed by the exactness of this imitation. Fraud or not, this mysterious man had real skill in makeup and impersonation. “Who are you really?” 

“Why I’m Lazarus of course! Didn’t you read the sign?” Beyond laughed at the annoyed look on L’s face, finally breaking his mimicry and lounging back in his patched armchair with a sigh, one leg thrown over the side. He stared for a moment then said with a flourish, “I’m a fan.” He twirled his fingers and produced a silver franc, letting it flip over his knuckles like the flow of water. “A performer like yourself, although not quite so famous. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time.” He tossed the coin high into the air, but it didn’t come down again.

“And now that you have, will you kindly get lost?” Even as L said the words, he wasn’t sure he meant them. Something about this man was fascinating. And where did that damned coin go? He looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing, and the man’s hands were both empty. “Cheap parlor trick. Open your mouth.” He didn’t want to admit he hadn’t seen the sleight of hand, even if he knew the coin must be there. 

Beyond extended his tongue, revealing the coin sitting right on it. He spat it into a box containing a few more coins. “Very good. But of course I doubt I could stump the real Lazarus.” 

The way those words were spoken sounded like a challenge to L, and he’d been here before. Countless other illusionists and street magicians had challenged him and become laughingstocks. “No, I doubt very much that you could.” 

“Hmmm.” Beyond leaned forward, elbows on the table as he stared. “Would you give me the chance to try?” He kept his eyes on L but swiped his hand over the flames of the candelabra beside them, appearing to transfer one flame to his finger where it burned a moment before he blew it out. 

“You dipped your nail in oil. It didn’t burn long enough to blacken it.” L raised an eyebrow when Beyond chuckled and nodded. “I hope you have better tricks than that.” He sincerely did hope that, because this was already more amusing than he’d expected, although his deadpan expression didn’t show it. 

“Oh, I do. Such wonders as you’ve never seen before.” Beyond snapped his fingers, his nail aflame again, and he transferred the fire back to the dormant candle. “If I can’t stump you, I’ll ‘get lost’ and you’ll never hear from me again. Does that suit you? A little wager between magicians.” 

“A wager?” L smiled for the first time since coming into this dismal hovel. “Just so you know, no one’s ever been able to stump me. I’ve seen it all.” He worried his lip with his thumb, unconsciously leaning forward, betraying his interest and excitement at a game. “Debunked them all and taken their tricks, improved them for my own.”

“You can’t take my tricks.” Beyond knew that for a fact. He was unique among all humans, if he was even human, in his abilities. “But I’d love to see you try.” 

He traced his long fingernails over the battered table, watching L’s thumb brush back and forth across slightly parted lips and wishing to touch them. Yes, he was a ‘fan’ of Lazarus, but it was so much more than that. An obsession, a yearning to be Lazarus. It was so unfair that he, someone with real supernatural powers, should always be in the shadow of just a clever illusionist. Beyond had been L’s actual shadow for years, never making himself known as he followed in the wake of show after show. Trying to make enough money for cheap flophouses and tickets for every performance, hiding in the back of the balcony but watching with eyes where distance didn’t matter. And when there hadn’t been money, he’d stolen. When people had tried to hurt or rob him, he’d killed. Beyond had given everything for this one moment. 

“You seem quite confident. In that case, what do you get if you manage to stump me?” L had zero expectations that anything like that could ever happen, but he wanted to be aware of the game’s rules.

Beyond pulled a deck of cards from his jacket and shuffled them in one hand, focusing on keeping his breathing slow and even as he held L’s gaze. Softly, “To be your apprentice.” 

“My apprentice?” L laughed, letting his hands rest on top of his crouching knees. “Everyone knows I take no apprentices. I have no desire to train amateurs or tell my secrets.” 

Beyond purred, “But do you desire to hear them? I can tell you secrets even you don’t know about yourself. Or ones you’ve desperately kept hidden from others.”

L was past being intrigued now, he was hooked. It didn’t help that the man’s languorous, cat-like body language was so very seductive, his gaze so intense. It was rare for L to find anyone with as much self-confidence as he had, and this man had a natural bravado that L had to work for on stage. In fact, the longer L looked, the more differences he noticed between them. The soft swell of muscles hidden beneath clothing slightly too large, hair of a silkier texture, eyes that were a pale blue instead of his own grey. He swallowed when his scrutiny was rewarded with a smirk. “I agree to your wager. But first, tell me your name.” 

Beyond wet his lips and whispered, “No. But I’ll tell you yours.” He glanced down at the coin box seriously. “Pay the fee.”

L stared unblinking, unbelieving, but pulled out the same trick ‘gold’ coin he’d given the man in the street and taken back furtively. 

When L tried to put it in the box, Beyond covered it with his hand. “No copper. The real thing.”

L’s eyes narrowed and he pulled his hand back, pocketing the trick coin and reluctantly flipping a real silver one into the box with a soft clink. He sighed, “So?” 

Beyond smiled looked above L’s head once more, not that he hadn’t read these words a thousand times already. “L Lawliet. Although the pronunciation eludes me. Do you say it in the French way, mon cher?” He smiled and sounded it out a few ways, giving up with a little shrug.

L felt like his heart had stopped beating from the shock of what he’d heard. His mouth was agape, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. “How….” Absolutely no one knew his real name. He’d spent a small fortune to find it out himself, buried at the bottom of the rubble of the London workhouse for orphans he’d grown up in. His birth certificate, locked in a well-hidden safe at his house in Surrey, was the only document in existence with that name printed. That safe hadn’t been opened in 10 years.

“Ah! Are you stumped then?” Beyond eyed him greedily, breath coming quicker. He didn’t even need to declare he was right. He’d never been wrong, even when people tried to insist he was. The truth was always written on their faces. 

“No! You…you must have hired a private investigator.” L’s brow knitted, because that didn’t make sense and he knew it. “Someone in London told you. ”

“Does it look like I have the funds to hire an investigator, Mr. Lawliet?” Beyond gestured around at the bleak surroundings. “But if you remain unconvinced….show me a picture of someone. I’ll tell you their name as well, and if they live.” Telling L the day he would die was something else he could do, but what a morbid way to start a partnership. Plus, L had plenty of life left and no reason to believe him. Inclining his head to the box, “Pay the fee.”

L let out a shaky breath and reached into his coat to produce a cheap locket. His mother had given it to him at the workhouse before she’d died of pneumonia, and it contained pictures of his parents. He pried it open and laid it on the table, flipping another silver coin into the box. “Tell me about them.”

Beyond pulled the locket across the table and stared at the pictures of the man and woman inside. These were no Russian nobles, no princes. They were plain, simply-dressed folk who looked older than their probable years and had no death dates above their heads. “Martha Briggs, maiden name. Henry Lawliet. Both deceased.” He lifted his eyes to L’s as he slid the locket back. “Sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.” His fingers briefly brushed L’s and lingered before pulling away. “Your parents.”

“Yes.” L picked up the locket in pinched fingers and carefully put it back in his jacket. He’d never known his mother’s maiden name but all the rest was correct, although he had no idea how. He went quiet as he considered what to do. It was a first, being unable to discern the trick, and all the possible scenarios that cycled through his mind were dismissed just as fast. Only one actual explanation remained but he was loathe to say it. How could it be that? 

“Have I won then, Mr. Lawliet?” Beyond wasn’t sneering or gloating, but soft and sincere. He knew that all L had to do was refuse to keep his promise and all of this, everything he’d done to be in this room, would have been for nothing. 

A long silence passed between them as they stared at one another across the table. “You have real magic.” L couldn’t keep the puzzlement off his face. He’d spent his whole life creating the illusion of magic in opulent ballrooms and the parlors of royalty, and had he finally found it buried in a rat hole? It was ironic and tragic that no one could tell the difference but him, but Lazarus. Who was the real fraud?

Beyond’s face crumpled, “Is that your answer then? Real magic?” No no no! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! He’d never believed that a skeptic like L, who knew so many tricks and manmade artifices, would choose the most improbable answer. Unfortunately, it was also correct. 

“Yes. That is my answer.” 

Beyond made an angry, frustrated sound and leaped up from his chair but stopped in his tracks, floundering. He wanted to run but where would he go? The majority of his adolescence and adulthood had been focused on L, following L, trying to get close to L and failing. Now that he finally had his chance, he’d failed. He turned away and clutched his hair, whispering, “Correct. You win. I’ll leave Paris tonight and you’ll never hear from me again.” 

L hummed to himself, uncurling from his crouch and slowly stepped closer to the distraught man. “Are you joking?” He touched the man’s shoulder, gently turning him around so they faced each other. “Do you think I’d walk away from real magic? You’re a unicorn.” L smiled and brushed the man’s cheek, fingers trailing along his jaw. He’d never touched anything magical before and it thrilled him. “A unicorn that had to pretend to be a horse pretending to be a unicorn. But I can see it.”  

The black kohl around Beyond’s eyes used to approximate L’s eyebags was smeared and running down his face, his blue eyes brighter for his tears. He gazed back at L in amazement, finally sniffling and giving him a little smile. “So does that make you a horse?” He leaned into L’s touch, eyes lidding and not entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating now. “Or maybe just an ass.” Beyond’s eyes flew open as he realized what he’d said, but L was just laughing and nodding. “S-sorry, my mouth can run away with me and—”

“I’ve been called worse.” L’s fingertips traced along the man’s mouth, his heart hammering for a different reason. He wanted to know this magic, this man, and felt an electricity between them that only two of a kind could. “But I can’t call you ‘unicorn.’ What’s your name?” 

“Beyond.” He whispered it reverently, closing his eyes and taking the chance to kiss L’s fingers at his lips. What did he have to lose now? His ‘trick’ was exposed. “Beyond Birthday. It’s a stupid name.” 

L’s hand threaded into Beyond’s hair and the noise he was rewarded with made him shiver, made his pants uncomfortably tight. Was this feeling some kind of magic too? He’d never felt such a powerful attraction. “It’s a name that would look perfect next to mine on a poster.” Lazarus and Beyond….it had a certain ring to it. But you shouldn’t hide yourself under all this makeup.” He tentatively pressed closer, bending to kiss Beyond’s neck which tilted for him instinctively. “Hmm, we could work that into some good tricks, couldn’t we?” He pressed his hips against Beyond, smiling as he felt the man’s body jerk at the realization, the feeling. “Like swapping out coins, but…us.”

Beyond inhaled audibly, wrapping his arms around L’s body as he melted into this perfect dream. His idol, his everything, wanted him too? Accepted him? “But…” He quickly shrugged off his jacket when he felt L’s fingers start to unbutton his shirt. “…you said you don’t take apprentices.” He mentally cursed himself for not just shutting up. Why couldn’t he just enjoy this and not ruin everything?

L raised his head, “True, I don’t.” Before the stricken look on Beyond’s face could sink in, he added, “But I’d take a partner.” The voracious kiss that followed made L stumble back against the table edge with a grin, hidden pockets spilling their contents as their clothes were hastily pulled away. A trick wand clattered to the floor and bloomed into a rose, a crystal box of fireflies sprung open and let its luminescent prisoners flit about the room blinking.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.” Beyond kissed him deeply again, lifting L onto the table. His hands caressed L’s body like he was afraid the man might break open too, releasing doubts and regrets, second thoughts. “Years I’ve waited to talk to you.” Beyond made magic for others, magic never happened for him. But those doubts didn’t come even when L did open for him, parting his legs and wrapping them around his waist.

L laid back against the table to gaze up at Beyond, amazed that he’d ever thought they looked alike now that they were naked and the makeup had been largely kissed and rubbed away. “I’ve waited all my life for magic.” He smiled and pulled Beyond closer, finally really understanding what his audience had been paying to see. It wasn’t just entertainment or amusement or distraction from their lives. It was hope that even if what was in front of them was only a horse, there might be a unicorn out there somewhere. “The real thing.”

[sheregenerated13]

At The Beginning

Yaz walks around the TARDIS after waking up from a nightmare, contemplating her near-death experience from Spyfall. She's not the only one up thinking about endings. 

TW: Depression, contemplating death

Yaz was not unfamiliar with the TARDIS, but it was labyrinthine in nature and she thought perhaps it reconfigured itself for its own amusement whenever she got up in the night to find the loo. Right now, however, Yaz was simply unable to sleep and appreciated the nature of the TARDIS as she walked through the corridors the TARDIS had dimmed, presumably to help ease her into a sleepy state. She tried to think of something else, anything else, but it was difficult as she could still feel the dream shuddering through her like an aftershock.

Yaz had tossed and turned for hours, waking from a nightmare she dreaded would return if she closed her eyes again. She was back in that place– alone, isolated, in some other dimension away from her friends– away from the Doctor. Yasmin Khan, a bright-eyed probation officer from Sheffield trying to work her way up the ladder, swept off on some magnificent journey through space and time, only to end up right back on Earth and then– then she’d been plucked from the ground like a flower before she could reach her full potential. She thought she’d died, that perhaps this was Barzakh, a realm where her soul would be kept until resurrection. Either way, she thought that was the end of her journey with the Doctor. She thought she’d never see her again.

Or worse– she would see her again– that in her transitional state she would oversee the aftermath of her death. She imagined the Doctor going back to her family, giving them the news. Of her family offering prayers in absentia, of Ryan and Graham mourning another loss so soon after losing Grace, of the Doctor feeling responsible and carrying that burden alone, closing off from everyone and shutting down entirely. Of her leaving Ryan and Graham on Earth in some effort to protect them from the same fate. Yaz could only hope that her soul would find the Doctor’s again, hold her, comfort her, ease the pain of her loss.

Then those glowing energies began to circle around her like vultures, threatening to take away even her haunting green realm away from her. To steal the last breath of Yasmin Khan. But when they consumed her in a surge of light, she found she was still herself, still Yaz, back home. Not her home in Sheffield, but her true home– with the Doctor. That shining beacon of hope Yaz so sorely needed– she’d saved her, somehow, like she always did. She had to– for that look of recognition in her eye, her hand pressed the glass– some glass cage she was trapped in– let Yaz know she wasn’t dead. She hadn’t been. She was just… somewhere else.

Alone, again.

It wasn’t the first time her thoughts had explored the dark recesses of her mind, but this had been real. She had felt it in her bones, the shift of pressure, the air seeming to vibrate, like her very composition didn’t match that of the environment she was in. Like she was back in school, in a crowd of people just like her, yet so utterly different she never quite felt comfortable. She’d tried to fit in, to make friends, but none of it ever worked out. She felt out of place, like she was trying so hard to be someone she wasn’t, to belong somewhere she never would, to please people that cared little for her. That reminded her of her differences in the most brutal way, almost cruel. Not accepting or celebrating her differences, but twisting them, corrupting them, into something detested. That the very foundation of her existence was an abomination, loathsome, until even she started to believe it true.

It drove her into a depression, she’d wanted to leave it all behind, she wanted it to end. She didn’t know how or what she might do, but she knew every moment she spent in that life, in that reality, was a moment she hated herself. Hated being herself. To be anyone else would be an escape. So that’s what she’d done. She’d escaped. Left it all behind– her classmates that tormented her, her parents who didn’t understand her, her sister who cared more deeply than she let on– ultimately, that had been what had saved her. Sonya. She hadn’t been in the right headspace to accept help, not from someone so close to her, but she’d still managed to do the right thing. Gotten help from the police– an officer named Patel had found her, talked her down, and gone back to her job as an officer. It was amazing, Yaz thought, how she could have such an impact on Yaz’s life, how she could cause such a monumental shift, do such an extraordinary thing to help someone with just a conversation. All in a day’s work. Yaz wanted to do that too, help people, do what Officer Patel did for her.

Yaz had found a way through it, gone to the other side, just as she’d done now. But when she returned to Earth, to the Doctor, been released from that glass cage, there was no comforting speech from the Doctor. No welcome back hug. She’d not even known Yaz had gone missing– that she’d possibly died– she’d been halfway across the world immersed in some battle with aliens, the thought of Yaz not even crossing her mind. If she’d never come back, never dropped in, would the Doctor have even remembered her? Would she have gone looking for her?

The absence of affection had Yaz grow cold and she shuddered, crossing her arms as she felt goosebumps tread against her skin. The corridor opened up to the console room, and Yaz wondered if all corridors eventually led to the console room, or if the TARDIS had led her there for some other reason. The Doctor wasn’t at the console where she usually was, but she wasn’t far. Yaz saw the doors to the TARDIS were open, framing a colorful canvas of swirling gases in the vacuum of space. It nearly stopped Yaz in her tracks, but it was hardly the most beautiful sight before her.

Yaz’s eyes lowered as she approached, spotting the Doctor sitting at the entrance to the TARDIS, legs dangling outside as she looked out at the cosmic gallery. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice her arrival, didn’t move to acknowledge her, so Yaz just silently joined her at the edge of the TARDIS. She knew the TARDIS must be projecting some sort of field to protect her, allow her to breathe, so she wasn’t worried about that– or at falling out into space. She’d already experienced that on their first meeting, and was in no hurry to do so again, but she felt safe in spite of her legs dangling off into space. It reminded her briefly of a book she’d read as a kid, where the sidewalk ends, and fleetingly imagined kicking off a shoe and letting it float off to join the waves of color deceivingly far away from where she sat.

Yaz knew, of course, they had to be miles away from the supernova before them, a broken ring of bright debris shrouding what must have been the point where the star had been before it exploded, but it was so large it looked as if she could hit it with a pebble if she kicked it hard enough. Yaz could practically hear the Doctor go off about the science of it all, going on about blast waves and reverse shock and stardust. She’d tell her of neutron stars and supernovas and paint the story with sweeping gestures and wide eyes that always pulled Yaz with a gravity far beyond anything she’d experienced on Earth. Yaz thought about asking her about it, letting the Doctor distract her from her nightmares with the spectacle and enthusiasm of an astronomer discovering a star for the first time, but the Doctor spoke first.

“Put these on,” the Doctor said, handing Yaz her pair of goggles. Yaz’s eyebrows pinched momentarily at the sudden direction– she didn’t think any debris or space dust was could to get in them, but she took the goggles into her hand and put them on regardless. When she looked back out into space, she saw her range of vision had expanded astronomically– there were so many more colors. The interstellar dust cloud was dusted with pinks and blues and yellows, each more brilliant than the last.

“It’s beautiful,” Yaz said, her eyes widening as she tried to take in all of the new depths of her vision. Was this how the Doctor saw the universe?

“It’s a remnant of Cassiopeia,” the Doctor said, “in Greek mythology, she was cast out into the stars as punishment. Off in the corner of the night sky, alone.”

Yaz felt a shift in her tone, and she felt as if this was something of more significance than the words alone implied.

“But surely there were other stars?” Yaz suggested, thinking how the night sky she’d always looked up at was full of stars– some of which she had visited since meeting the Doctor.

“None within reach,” the Doctor said in an almost haunted voice, “she spent centuries alone, dreaming of colliding with another, until she ran out of fuel and collapsed in on herself. But just for a short while, she’s the brightest object in the sky.” Yaz thought she must have caught herself, as she’d pulled back toward the optimistic by the end. It felt… forced. Sad. Beautiful, but sad.

“Sometimes the things we think are the end turn out to be the beginning,” Yaz said, seeing past the fields of hot gasses and stardust to the neutron star at its center. Yaz realised while they may not have spoken directly about their experiences, they shared some similarities. Yaz was comforted by this, and felt closer to the Doctor in spite of their existing proximity. She felt the Doctor’s pinky finger overlap with hers and a soft smile radiate from her eyes as Yaz turned to look at her. Yaz mirrored her with a smile of her own, a warmth washing over as she saw new depths in the green eyes staring into her own. Yaz rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder as they turned to watch the stars.

“At the beginning with you,” the Doctor said in a voice so soft Yaz would have thought she’d imagined it, if her words had not brushed against the soft hairs of her forehead. She felt goosebumps form on her arms, but they were not a sign of discomfort. The Doctor must have noticed them. “Are you cold?”

“Cuddle me,” Yaz said, though her words rose almost like a question. All the indecision of a corner-of-the-mouth kiss in a single phrase. The Doctor’s hand left hers and for a moment she thought she had read things wrong, that she was pulling away, only for the weight of the Doctor’s arm around her to quell her anxious thoughts, swatting them away like flies. Yaz shifted to sink into the Doctor’s embrace, falling asleep to the rhythm of her hearts and the promise of new beginnings.

Notes: the prompt @nonbinaryriotchild​ gave was "cuddle me" and I ended up with the least-fluffy thing I have ever written.

I also made a fanvid "Doctor Who I Cassiopeia" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fn0ShonVbEo Such an amazing and underrated song that suits the Doctor so well!

[heroes-writing]

OH MY!! I've been waiting for so long to finally see you back! I was so sad when I followed you quite a while ago and saw that you were on hiatus... Your writing is so good and I must confess that digging through your blog all this time was a very good experience, I think I even made it to the very beginning ? You also made me discover a bunch of talented opm writers, so for all of the above... Thank you 🖤 What I'd like to request is: Genos reacting to reader's [1/2]

Thank you for the love!! And sorry for the wait on this, I just went off into the sunset with this prompt, so please forgive me if it’s not quite the tone you’re looking for lol. I had a few ideas and I wanted to try and make a realistic confession?? Ehh it was worth a try lol! Hope you enjoy! (Also under a readmore cuz I nearly hit 3k words oof)

Word Count: 2927

 “COME SEE THE DEMON CYBORG DIE!! KYAHAHA!” The monster dripped with venom as it splayed its arms wide for the crowd to see.

You watch. Both numb and afraid, as it releases another cackle that steams in the air. In the next breathless moment, it raises a foot over Genos like a child about to stomp on a bug. The cries of panic from the crowd only seem to spur it on.

The cyborg in question raises a quivering hand to the sky. The center of his palm glowing and burning—but it flickers out like a candle as the monster stomps. The ground shakes, nearby buildings creak, your own jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

…It was more than you could take, and you knew it was time to step in.

Sorry, Genos.

You tried to give him every opportunity you could. You hadn’t lifted a finger to help him just as he asked. …You had watched 20 grueling minutes of fighting as he wore himself down to bits and pieces.

All so he could learn to be stronger…

But I can stand this anymore!

As if waving a white flag or asking a question. You thrust your hand into the sky.

“Get away from him! Now!” Your shout is desperate, and in a swirl of vivid color, the entire spectrum of your magic explodes into existence.

Clouds, smoke, mist.

Refractive in the light, brilliant in the sun, your power consumed the monster whole. Not a peep escaped as you smothered its every sound and squashed it’s mass. The energy churned, wringing itself into a tight crooked line, till nothing but sparkling motes of dust remained.

You brought your fist close to your face as the colors blurred around your body, intimately connected to your emotions.

Worry, stress, love. It had you panting till the knuckles of your fist blanched and the ground beneath you shattered.

…The reality was that you were painfully close to tears.

Almost unable to contain your feelings, the threshold of your energy fought against its limits--

“(Name).” Called Genos.

Then his voice softened just for your ears, “…It’s alright.”

“I’m alright.”

…And just like that—

Your power dissolves into fluffy clouds and curls like harmless waves.

Your eyes blink away hot tears, and your shoulders fall into a deep slump.

He’s okay??

With one unsteady foot you take a step towards Genos, before you throw your entire body forward with your hands stretched out. Genos! Genos! Genos!

You nearly careen over the edge of the large crater in the street as you look down at the mess that is the S-Class hero.

No legs or left arm to speak of. You see him twist his head with great effort to meet your worried gaze. His eyes are blank, and electricity crackles from various places around his body—For your benefit only, he lifts his remaining hand and sways it from side to side in a half-hearted wave.

“Genos…” You pant, unsure of where to even start this time, but he turns to blink at the sky in a way that’s almost casual.

“Forgive me, I’ve been defeated again.” To your relief, his voice is the same as ever. His determined eyes glint dangerously even as he lays shattered.

“...Don’t worry about that.” You sigh, “Here, let me pick you up.”

With your magic blurring around the area, you searched the ground for pieces of your friend. Your crush.  

…Every new iteration of Genos held his aura, both yellow and black in hue. You supposed it represented his optimism and his vengeance.

Nuts, bolts, metal: his life essence was imbued within—and no matter how briefly he used his body before it was destroyed, the energy always came back as vibrantly as ever.

Black and Yellow. Obsidian and Gold. Your favorite colors.

With a subtle pull from your will, the pieces of Genos in and around the crater begin to float in aimless spirals high into the air. The shopping bags you shared with the cyborg lay on the pavement somewhere behind you. Forgotten.

You slide down the cracked ground and are quick to brush his hair away from his eyes. The fabric of his hoodie is burnt beyond belief, but you see the healthy glow of his core just beneath it. Your hand splays over it to feel its warmth and you sigh in relief. He blinks at you, curious of your actions, but his usual gold pupils, his inner bios system, has not yet returned.

“I’m alright…” He repeats before his eyes flicker away. “Do you still know the way to Dr. Kuseno? Or shall I request a drone—”

You release an amused huff from your nose at his question, but are quick to pull your hand away.

“Can I ride on top this time?” You ask with a shake of your head. It clears the tears from your eyes in a way you hope is discreet.

“If you want to."

You peer at each other for a long moment, before he cracks a rare smile. It was something of an inside joke you shared, even after not knowing each other for long. It had been a few months since he had entered your life, and although it stressed you to imagine him leaving it. It spurned you more to realize that your romantic feelings were starting to leach into your usual interactions…

After all, if he wasn’t receptive, would you be the one to cause him to leave?

Genos was handsome, charming, and it’s all too easy to give him a smile in return, even if it flickers away too soon in a way that he notices... Just like how it was all too easy to fall in love with him. When you finally reply, your response is a little delayed.

“Maybe not today--and I know the way. I got you Genos.” With a little boost from your powers, you lift him up into your arms with little effort.

Caught in something like a bridal carry his head falls back against your shoulder with a large creak, and you frown in surprised concern. “You okay??”

He’s staring at you, with furrowed brows. “Yes…My apologies.” He lifts his head with shudders of effort shaking him hard.

“Don’t be sorry!” And before you could stop yourself, you press his face back down with all the tenderness you have in you. Your hand lingers on his cheek, before slipping slowly away.

There was no natural warmth to the hard silicone of his face, or in his hair that smelled like ozone—Instead there was a raw heat that was feverish to the touch.

It was so intrinsically, Genos, that you can barely stand the intimacy even if it soothed you just as much.

“Just—stay.” You whisper, “Don’t break anything else…” You can’t see his expression as you lift your chin again, but you’re not sure if you want to as your face burns with embarrassment.

“…(Name), I apologize if the fight was too…one-sided to watch.”

You simply tut in response.

Your arms hold him just a little tighter as you make your way out of the crater. The crowd flutters around, whispering and taking pictures. That was no surprise at all, but you’re quick to escape it as you jump high into the air to a nearby rooftop. The various parts of Genos swirl to follow you like dragon tail in the wind.

“That monster made me mad is all…” You finally say, pretending to be unaffected, but you frown at his patient and analytic blink.

“Is that why your magic has changed? It’s different even now.” As if making a point his eyes flicker over your face and neck. Your whole body is dusted in your energy, in your colors.

Before taking your next leap off the windy rooftop, you pause. Your breath caught in your throat, you stammer, “…W-what?”

“--I understand the hues of your magic are affected by your emotions. What else were you feeling this time?” His words are serious as always, but something is almost reserved and cautious about his question—

“I’m asking, because it made you stronger, (Name)...”

All the words you want to say bubble up towards the back of your throat: I was feeling love? Because I care about you. I like you. I’ve liked you from the start--

Your self-consciousness, however, makes every letter translate and distort into something slightly different.

“I hate to see you get hurt...” You press your lips into a thin line, “I want to protect you. I needed to protect you back there.”

His silence is ominous before his voice releases a burst of static. “I-I am fortunate to have a friend like you who is so strong...”

Genos continues, as thoughtful as ever, “I’ve never seen your magic react like that before. Were you truly that angry?”

He tried to raise his head again, “For my sake?”

Your expression fell.

“Yeah… Of course, I was.” You doubted your voice could put anymore emphasis into your words. They felt heavy and weighed down like iron shackles.

“Of course…” he trailed—his expression for a moment utterly unreadable.

“…(Name), are things alright between us?”

Your stomach hurts, your eyes feel watery. They trail over the dizzying heights before you as the wind howls in your ears. It was a proverbial plunge, you supposed. Because something inside you was tired and resolute at the sight.

“…When you get repaired, I’ll explain everything.” You promise gently, although you know it sound dismal. You try to soften your expression for his sake, before you make your daring leap.

--

Even with your brief friendship with Genos, your acquaintanceship with Dr. Kuseno was perhaps verging on overly familiar... The man wasn’t nosey per se, but he could read you AND Genos like a damn book.

“He has expressed that you’ve been distant lately…” He says in hushed tones, even as the hydraulic system and machines in the next room whir away loudly. They are strong enough to shake the observatory deck, and don’t really offer Genos a chance to hear the conversation, but just like the cyborg, the man is meticulously careful.

From the protective window, you can see Genos getting his tune up.  His eyes are closed as if sleeping while a circular system of machines rotated around him. His upgrades were being attached, and you were sure an endless number of diagnostics were running at full throttle.

You had one leg over the other and your arms crossed if only to hide your constant fidgeting.  

You meet Dr. Kuseno’s gaze briefly, before glancing down again.

“I’m going to confess, once he gets finished up...”

Like any guardian or father figure, the doctor’s face lights up in excitement.

“That’s wonderful!”

“I guess…” The anxiety certainly doesn’t feel wonderful.

The older man meerly hums and glances up at you, over his glasses.

“I wouldn’t fear losing him, (Name). These things are natural, and goodness knows Genos needs normalcy in his life. A relationship would do him good!”

“I just—” You rub at the back of your neck, “I don’t want him to think I’m just some fan—” You mutter.

Dr. Kuseno is quick to shake his head with a wry smile, “Nonsense. He speaks of you often, just as much as his Saitama-sensei. He must appreciate your presence quite a bit.”

The words do little to ease you, but you’ve resigned yourself to your fate. With a small push you incline your head politely to the doctor.

“Can you tell him I’ll be outside?”

“Certainly.”

And before you fully leave through the automatic doors the doctor gives you an earnest thumbs up.

“Good luck out there, (Name)! I’ll be rooting for you!”  

--

It’s not long before Genos joins you.

You could do this. You NEED to do this!

Just as your hands begin to wring together in front of you, the front entrance whirs open.

Genos fully reformed with dark metal arms and black jeans steps out. He nods his head at you and closes his flip phone with a decisive snap. You wonder idly if the hero association was calling him for another emergency, and worry streaks through your lower stomach like a hot knife…

You let him approach as you duck a little into your shoulders.

“For once I requested my previous model. Dr. Kuseno said my upgrades would take more time, and I did not wish to keep you waiting.”

The pretty gold irises of his eyes are back and staring at you with extreme focus. And you settle on facing him almost chest to chest with your hands behind your back. It makes his gaze flicker just a bit, to see you suddenly stand so close and with such a solemn expression on your face.

“You didn’t have to do that, but thanks…” You say as your heart rate spikes.

He blinks, “What were you going to explain to me?”

Your lips purse for a moment. You take a deep breath…

“The changes in my power today? I kind of let them get out of control...?”

He nods once, “Yes…” His voice sounds uncertain. He opens his mouth for a moment, before closing it again.

He holds up a hand, “Actually…I think I must apologize, (Name). Before you begin…” He straightens before you with his hands by his sides like a soldier, “I feel as if I’ve made a misstep somehow, there has been a—” His brows pinch together, “A distance between us, and I would like to know if is there anything that I can do to resolve it!” His gaze aims to the ground, and you raise your hands to wave them in dismissal.

“No no! I’ve been trying to figure out my feelings…”

Your eyes close as your mouth forms the words and sets them free… “--My feelings for you.”

Your cheeks begin to burn as you open your eyes again to meet Genos surprised gaze.

“I-I was really…impacted today because I care about you. You weren’t wrong in my magic showing you that.” You raised a hand to press against your pounding heart, “I hate seeing you get hurt, as a friend and—and as someone who loves you!”

Your head bows, “I hope you understand! And I-I hope you know I would like to stay as your friend, even if you—”

You gulp.

“If you don’t feel the same. I just—I can’t try and hide it anymore...”

…

His ensuing silence does not breed confidence, but—you sigh in utter relief.

A backbreaking weight slips off your shoulders even if your hands shake and your magic feels like bursting again.

You trail with your voice much more subdued, “I’m sorry if I’ve made you worry I—”

“I understand.” Says Genos with a hint of a smile on his face.

Your eyes snap up, and in an unnerving manner Genos was almost frozen in place.

He had the propensity to not move much sometimes…Subtle conversational ticks were sometimes erased by his stiff machinery, and right now his forward lean over you had you almost leaning away. Almost.

You’re inches apart, and he takes one step closer. “I understand, and I return your feelings!”

Now you really feel like you’re about to fall backwards, “Y-You do?”

You tried to scan your brain for any signs, or hints of his feelings—And feel the guilty feeling of doubt bloom in your stomach. The indecision must show on your face because it’s as if a part of Genos doesn’t know how to proceed. His lips grimace, and the heat radiating from his chest intensifies.

“Yes. I’m sorry for...not knowing how to tell you. I am not used to these emotions, and I could see you retreating these past few weeks—”

His face looks away for a moment before pinning you down with a determined stare, “I did not want to push you away any further.”

“…Spending time with you and not letting anything ruin your smile—those are just a few reasons why I fight now.”

One of his hands tentatively reaches for your own, as if he might scare you away even now. The metal is warm as his fingers barely skim your own, before slipping firmly into your palm. You squeeze it back as your other hand searches blindly for his. Your hand finds his forearm and slides all the way down to his wrist as your expression melts.

Genos’ blonde hair barely tickles your forehead as his voice murmurs, “(Name), I want to protect you too, I wish to become a hero you can always rely on, so you don’t have to fight…”

He guides your hand to lay on the core of his chest. Then his fingers trail a feather light line down your cheek so tenderly you can’t help but lean into him.

“I’ll always be here for you, Genos. If you let me…I’ll gladly fight by your side, please know that.” Curling your body into a curve that perfectly complements his form, his face transforms into a mask of serene relief.  You can’t help but feel normal again. Your feelings for Genos strengthen just a little more, as joy floods into your smile.

His arms curl around you suddenly, pulling you into a warm and thrumming embrace that feels perfect.

You barely realize your magic ebbing around you in a protective cocoon. The vibrant colors of happiness, comfort, and love shimmer as Genos plants a kiss on your cheek.