#This took an embarrassingly long amount of time to write I’m so sorry Anon ;;;;;;;;

[chunkytron]

So here’s a lil idea, maybe a mythology au or something, megs a chonky beast/creature and I like to think maybe someone (sounds or Optimus ,) finds megs in a trap injured, and sounds or Oppy. Release his foot and patch him up and gives him a meal. Megs is suspicious at first, wandering is pois/oned but a beast of his size needs to eat, and put on some fat for winter. And thus they feed a beastly megs. (I know this is kinda off the rails/au stuff i hope you don’t mind me sharing)

I dont mind it at all^^ I like seeing what other people come up with!

This took a while since I didn’t know what creature to make Megs as so I went with a some wolf-like beast.

(I’m sorry it took so long to write fndnnsksms- )

The large wolf like being sat on the couch, a blanket around him as Opti/mus fed him meat slices.

Sound/wave stares in shocked silence.

“We’re keeping him.” “ABSOLUTELY NOT-“

They let Mega/tron stay for the winter…..and probably more.

Mega/tron would growl at the food, suspicious, before deciding to eat it. Living with them and having access to more food and snack ended up plumping him a lot more than before.

They spoil and force him to exercise. In the end, Mega/tron’s belly is full everyday…..and more during colder times

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Insecure

Summary: Spencer and Reader are both a little uncomfortable with the idea of having sex

A/N: I firmly believe that dry humping shouldn’t just be for horny teens <3

Pairing: Virgin!Spencer Reid x Virgin!Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut, Fluff

Warnings/Includes: cursing, smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, grinding, dry humping,  please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

Requests Filled:

“I may have asked you this before but I’m not actually too sure if I just thought about it or if I actually sent it so I’ll resend to be safe (I have Dory’s memory I promise I’m not trying to be pushy) But could you write a blurb about riding sub!spencer’s thigh bc he’s not sure if he’s ready to lose his virginity and he gets so worked up he cums in his underwear (idk if you’re comfortable with that so please ignore this if you aren’t no pressure at all just lots of love) xx

Hi Ellie! I'm a new anon to your blog and I have a blurb request about the grinding on spencer gif you recently reposted. Maybe y/n and spencer are "in the mood" but y/n has never done "it" before but she still wants to get spencer and herself off so they dry hump in their underwear because that's as far as she's comfortable with going. I'm sorry if this is worded weird I've never requested smut before. Also can I please be the 💜 anon?”

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It wasn’t like they’d done nothing. But there was something about sex that felt like such a bold step. He knew she was inexperienced too, which sort of helped ease his nerves whenever he thought about it for too long. He just hoped that the whole thing freaked her out as much as it freaked him out really, but he still just found himself a little too shy to say anything about it. Instead opting for awkward and abrupt ends to make-out sessions, or cuddles, or dates, for fear that it would spiral into something he wasn’t exactly ready for.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to. In some paradoxical way it still turned him on, and whenever he’d leave and make a break for the bathroom in the middle of a make-out session on his couch he’d more often than not find himself with his hand around his cock, pumping himself to the thought of her. He wasn’t sure what was so intimidating about it to be honest.

But she never seemed to say anything about it, so he sort of thought he might be in the clear about the whole thing. Even though deep down he knew that’s not how relationships or communication worked. So he’s both surprised and unsurprised when he shows up at her front door with take out and she’s wearing a robe with what looks like little else underneath. A far cry from her usual comfy clothes that he’d grown so fond of.

“Hey Spence” she says with a nervous smile, and he just stands there dumbfounded, staring at her like he’s never seen her before.

“Oh— I— um, hi!” he mumbles out, forcing himself back to reality as she steps aside to let him into her apartment. “I brought food” he says, leaving it down on the coffee table and all of a sudden having no idea what he’s supposed to do with his hands.

“Spence, I wanted to talk to you about something” she says, looking almost as nervous as he does, bracing herself as she sits down on the couch and beckons him to sit beside her.

“What is it?” he gulps down the lump in his throat before he speaks, preparing himself for the conversation he’s been dreading.

“I don’t really know how to phrase this but, um, I don’t think I’m ready to have sex yet” she blurts out, her arms crossing over her chest, defending and comforting herself as she speaks, her eyes looking anywhere but his.

“That’s alright” he smiles, reaching out a hand and placing it on the side of her face, gently tilting so that she has to look at him, “Me neither”

Saying it out loud feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his chest, he feels lighter than he ever thought possible as she looks in his eyes and they’re filled with a similar ease.

“You’re not just saying that?” she asks, hopeful, and he shakes his head.

“No, god no! I’ve been so worried that you were going to get annoyed, or impatient, or freaked out by me. I just didn’t know how to tell you that I wasn’t ready for that yet. And don’t get me wrong, I do want to… eventually, and I think you’re so pretty, just not, now.”

“You have no idea how good it feels to hear that Spence” she lunges forward and pulls him into a tight hug, and his hands pull her in instinctively, spreading out against her back. As he feels the smooth satin beneath his fingertips he has a thought.

“If that’s what you wanted to tell me, then what’s this about?” he asks, pulling back so that he can cast his gaze over her robe again, lingering a little longer this time, letting his eyes trail along her bare legs that stretch out beneath it.

“I don’t know if this was a stupid plan or not. But I wanted to prove to you that I do still want to be with you. And just because I’m not comfortable with sex yet doesn’t mean I’m not comfortable doing other things with you?”

“Oh” his breath catches in his throat, maybe it’s nerves, or just anticipation but he can feel the heat rising in his face, “Like, um, like what… things?”

“You’re not allowed laugh” she says, taking her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, and he smiles at her.

“Never”

“I know it’s a real ‘teenage’ activity but I thought we could both get off together if we dry humped?” his eyes go wide at her suggestion, because it’s perfect and he’s nodding before his lips can even think about forming words.

“Yes, yeah! That’s a great idea” and then she’s grinning at him and he’s grinning back before they’ve even really touched each other. “How do we start?”

She takes a moment to consider before speaking, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but maybe if you took off your clothes so we’re both in our underwear?”

“But you’re not—” before he can finish his sentence her hands have pulled at the tie keeping her robe together and it drapes open on either side, revealing the rest of her body clad in nothing but a white lingerie set. He has to force himself to start breathing again before he can do anything else. But once he does he’s standing up and making his way out of his clothes in an uncoordinated rush.

When he sits back down on the couch in only his boxers she wastes no time climbing into his lap, one leg either side of his thigh, her knee nestled in against his crotch. The pressure is immediate and he can’t stifle the moan that falls from his lips.

“Take this off baby” he moans, his hands coming up to push her robe off of her shoulders until she can shrug out of it, discarding it on the floor. “Fuck” he whispers at the unobstructed view, his hands ghosting along her sides with almost ticklish amounts of pressure.

While his hands are occupied and he's just a little distracted, she dives in to kiss him. Her lips a little rough against his from the excitement but he doesn’t seem to mind, opening his mouth in response to let her tongue in. They stay like that for a few moments, hands roaming over bare skin, tugging gently at hair, moaning against each others mouths.

It takes an embarrassingly little amount of time before they’re both desperate and aching, and she can’t help the way she grinds down against his thigh, resting her hands on either one of his shoulders for support.

“Does that feel good baby?” he asks when her lips break apart from his own to let out a gasp.

“Uh huh” she moans, her lips hanging open, soft and swollen from kissing his own.

“Why don’t you come a little closer?” he whispers, tightening his grip on her waist and pulling her in tighter so that her knee is pressed up against his bulge, pushing closer with each soft rock of her hips.

“Fuck” he whimpers, his head falling backwards to land on the back of couch, giving in to the overwhelming sensation. If it was ever possible for something to feel too good, this was it, he cursed himself for knowing it wasn’t going to last long. And then she started to kiss his exposed throat and he knew he was fucked.

His hands began to dig in tighter against her waist, both guiding her movements and letting out some tension. “You’re gonna kill me” he forces out as she begins to gasp and moan between the soft kisses she leaves along his neck.

“Sorry, it just feels so good” she chuckles a little as he tries to bring his head back up so he can look at her, admire her. She was always so beautiful, but somehow even more so like this. With her hair just a little messy, her eyes full of lust, her face and chest lightly coated with sweat in a way that made her look like she was glowing. It was all so perfect that he couldn’t be more thankful for his memory in that moment.

“Are you close baby?” he asks and she can only nod, her breath coming out in harsh pants as she tries to move her hips with some sort of rhythm. So he decides to concentrate his efforts on her in an attempt to slow himself down.

Holding her still with his grip he starts to move his thigh, alternating between shaking it so that it vibrates, and pushing it up in a very harsh and deliberate grid against her now soaking wet panties.

“Oh fuck, Spencer!” she whimpers, trying to steadying herself against his shoulders without much success. “I’m so close—uh—”

“Cum for me baby” he soothes while keeping his movements forceful until she’s almost doubled over on top of him, collapsing against his chest with a loud and desperate moan of his name. And he can feel the soaking fabric against his thigh and the idea that he’s the one that’s responsible for it has him throbbing.

But he waits. he waits for her to regain her breath and sit back up from her resting position against his chest. But she’s way ahead of him, and he can feel a hand pressing up against the fabric of his boxers, squeezing gently, but it’s more than enough stimulation to have him squirming.

“Shit Spence, you’re so hard” she groans, sitting up finally so that she can look at his blush covered face and neck.

“It’s ‘cause of you” he manages to mumble out as her hand begins to move, squeezing and pressing against his bulge, spurred on by each desperate little whine.

“Are you gonna cum baby?” she asks, her other hand coming up to knot in his hair, tilting his face so that he’s looking up at her, just in time to nod. And then he’s cumming, warm and messy inside of his boxers. Something about the feeling against her hand has her almost good to go again.

Spencer’s eyes close as he turns a brighter shade of red, his mouth hanging open in a little ‘o��� shape as he comes down from his high. When he finally returns to Earth to find her still perched in his lap he can hardly believe any of what’s just happened is real.

“So that’s what I was missing out on in high school?” he chuckles, his hands coming back up to graze her sides softly again as she smiles down at him.

“We’ll make up for plenty of lost time together. And we can take as long as we need.” she leans in and presses her lips softly to his. And even though he still didn’t feel comfortable with sex, he knew he felt comfortable with her.

-- -- --

Thank you so much for reading, any feedback is always appreciated, love you! <3

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[shockinglysubmissive]

Rule asking anon here! If this request doesn’t inspire you and/or if you just don’t want to write it that’s totally ok! But for the request, could you please write a one shot of Shouta Aizawa x reader where Aizawa finds out that the reader gets turned on by/has a fetish for his long hair. So he grows his hair out longer and starts taking extra good care of it so he could use it to get the reader off? You can pretty much do whatever you feel like doing as far as the direction this writing goes haha all I have in mind is Daddy Aizawa’s gorgeous hair and him using it in various ways to help his love cum to their heart’s content! Hope this isn’t too much haha! Whether you choose to take on this prompt or not I hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/night and that you take care of yourself because you absolutely deserve it! ❤️❤️

Thank you for this! I'm sorry I didn't post it yesterday! I ran a little wild while writing and it took longer than I thought it would! I tried to keep it gender neutral as well!

WARNINGS: hair kink/pulling, tickling, head humping

He first noticed your obsession when your hands would gravitate towards his hair.

It didn't matter what you were doing, if you were close enough, your hands were in his hair.

He expected it while you were kissing, or cuddling, but it shocked him when you would tangle your hands in his hair while he was grading papers or eating.

Shoulder length hair seemed annoying before, but for his love, he grew it out even longer.

Once his hair hit mid back, his significant other couldn't keep their hands to themself.

You look at the long black hair sticking to your boyfriend's back, his towel wrapped low around his waist. He gave you a smug smirk as he walks to the closet, grabbing some clothes.

"Once I get dressed, would you like to help me dry my hair?" He asks, snapping you out of your day dream.

"of course. Since you can't do it yourself." You laugh softly and try to hide your excitement. Scurrying to gather the few supplies you need, he gets dressed.

After a few minutes, he is dressed and you're sitting on the edge of the bed. "sit on the floor." You instruct, applying a generous amount of heat protection to your hands and running it through his hair. You spend more time than you needed to, just running your hands through the soft locks. Shame floods your body as you grow more and more excited by the feeling of his hair between your fingers.

Your thighs squeeze together in a feeble attempt to hide your growing need. Little did you know, your boyfriend knew exactly what this would do to you. Giving his head a slight shake, the wet strands tickle your exposed legs. You have to bite down on your lip to swallow a moan.

"Shouldn't you be using the hair dryer now? I think you have added enough conditioner." He questions, leaning his head back in your lap to look at you. His hair pools in your lap, shifting around as he moves. The tickling sensation pulls a slight whine from your lips and your hips lift slightly off the bed.

Getting the reaction he wanted, he sits his head up slowly, dragging the hair out of your lap. Just watching the way it moved brought you embarrassingly close to cumming without any touching. A shaking hand grabs the hair dryer, and flick it on the low setting.

As the hair dries, more strand start brushing up your thighs until you can't control yourself. You turn the device off, grabbing fistfuls of hair and yanking him backwards. Hips grind pathetically against the back of his head, sending you over the edge.

Riding out your orgasm, you continue fucking the back of his head. Your hands slowly detach from his hair, and your eyes open just enough to see him furiously fisting his cock.

"who told you to let go?" He growls when your hands leave his hair. Taking the hint, you alternate between softly stroking his hair, and yanking his head back by it.

[gubler-me-up]

Boo’s and Ghoul’s (MGG request)

Request: hi !! can i request a mgg imagine where it’s halloween night and him and the reader are watching horror movies while eating candy, and it’s all just fluff? thank you for ur time !! :D

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! We’re like a month away from Halloween and I love spooky season as much as the next person, so this request was fun to write! I was gonna do a double upload with this and Ace, but it never happened because I take 10 years to write a sentence smh (But it’s still Saturday in some places so this is kinda like a double upload am i right? 👁👅👁) Enjoy!!  

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Pure Halloween fluff

Content warning: None, maybe spookiness if you’re not bout that life

Word count: 1.1k

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Spending Halloween night indoors was the equivalent to Valentine’s Day for Matthew. He was so ecstatic to spend the night cuddling you while watching classic horror movies and eating an endless amount of candy. When October rolled around it was as if a new light sparked in Matthew. Brighter than the light he already was.

You dumped a bag of a classic mix of various popular chocolates into a one of Matthew’s handmade jack-o-lantern bowl. One of the first things he told you when you met he liked doing Halloween arts and crafts the most during the spooky season. You expected to see one or two creations, but were welcomed with at least 30 different Halloween themed crafts when he finally showed you his collection.

“Y/N, do you wanna watch Friday the Thirteenth or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” You heard Matthew yell from the living room.

“Do you have The Evil Dead?” You asked

“Oh boy, you bet I do,” he said with the utmost excitement.

You giggled to yourself as you threw the empty candy bag in the trash. You went over to his huge pantry to take out a bag of popcorn. You then went to the cabinet to grab the handcrafted Frankenstein bowl he had made. As you turned around, you were greeted with an unpleasant surprise.

“Boo!” Matthew yelled.

You were so caught off guard you dropped the bowl on the ground and it shattered. You squeezed your eyes hoping it wasn’t broken, but when you opened them you saw it was shattered into large glass pieces. You looked back up at Matthew hoping he wasn’t mad you broke his art. To your surprise, he was stifling a hardy laugh.

“Y/N, if you’re this jumpy now, how do you expect to survive watching a series of horror movies?” He laughed.

“The jump scares will be in front of me and not behind me,” you responded.

He let out a booming laugh as he bent down to start picking up the pieces of the bowl. You bent down to help him as you still felt bad for what you did even if he didn’t mind. Before you picked up anything, he stopped your hand. You looked at him confused. He greeted your confused look with a smile.

“It was my fault. How about you get yourself comfortable on the couch as I clean this up?” He said.

“You sure?” You asked.

He nodded. “Of course. I want your nerves settled before we start The Evil Dead.”

You giggled as you got up from the ground. You walked over to the counter where the bowl of candy was resting. You made sure to pick it up carefully before part two of the bowl dropping incident occurred. You walked into the living room to get yourself comfortable on the couch.

You looked around the living room which was decorated to the brim with Halloween decorations. You couldn’t help but admire it every time you walked in or through the area. Bats hanging from the ceiling, carved pumpkins on the fireplace, a skeleton in the corner; it was the real deal.

You placed the bowl beside you as you went to the VCR player. Matthew borrowed his mom’s so you two could watch the VHS originals of the horror movies he collected. He said doing this made for a satisfying viewing experience. He hasn’t been wrong about anything Halloween yet. You saw the VHS for The Evil Dead on the floor and decided to get the movie started at least after all your mess.

You popped in the VHS and scooted back. You didn’t see the main menu appear on the screen. You sighed and laughed to yourself. You didn’t even turn on the T.V. You grabbed the remote and turned it on just to see a horrific face of a zombie-like girl appear on the screen. Out of natural instinct, you screamed out of shock.

You heard Matthew run into the living room. You quickly turned around to see him standing with a ghost bowl full of popcorn. He looked at you in shock and confusion. He then looked at the screen and saw what made you scream in such horror. He let out an uncontrollable laugh as he saw the girl on the T.V.

“I meant to rewind it from the last time I watched it. I’m so sorry you had to be greeted like that,” he said.

He walked over to you and placed the bowl on the coffee table. He took your hands to help you off the ground as he still laughed at your embarrassingly easily scared personality. He gave you a quick peck on the lips before leading you back over to the couch to sit.

“Thanks for helping set up this indoor spookfest, Y/N. For all your brave work I promise to protect you from any ghoul’s,” he said while rewinding the VHS.

“How kind of you, good sir. I don’t want to be dropping bowls on monsters toes now would I,” you said.

He laughed and pressed play when he finished rewinding the movie. He went over to the lights to turn them off. He walked back over to the coffee table and pulled out the lighter from his pocket to light the three candles. The scent of apple spiced cinnamon hit your nose and it felt as if you were in a dream. The Halloween fantasy was fully complete.

He took his place beside you and patted his lap while giving you his signature warm stare. You obliged and placed yourself on his lap with your back against his chest. You reached your hand in the candy bowl to take out a Kit-Kat. You opened it and placed one tiny bar in Matthew’s mouth. He smiled at you as he accepted your gift offering.

“Do you think if I offered a monster some candy, they would leave me alone,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Most monsters, but not vampires.”

“Vampires? Why wouldn’t a vampire leave me alone?” You asked.

You felt him kiss up your shoulder and then lightly sink his canines into the crook of your neck. You let out a slight gasp before giggling along with him. You looked down at him as he took his teeth’s grip off of you.

“Vampires like you too much to just leave you alone,” he said.

“In my books, vampires are just up my alley,” you said.

You kissed him and could taste the air of chocolate in his mouth which made the kiss extra sweet. Both of you then decided it was time to crackdown on paying attention to the movie instead of each other. After all, it was going to be a long, spooky night ahead for you both as you enjoyed each other’s company and endless Halloween treats.

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MASTERLIST

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

babysit side effects

A/N: This was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! sorry it took so long, Ihope it was worth it. Please let me know what you think, and if anyone has any requests please let me know! 

summary: Can you write a fic where richie and eddie are babysitting one of the losers kids, and it makes them realize they want a kid of their own? Thank you :)

warnings: curse words 

‘Okay, so let’s go over this again. Sophia has her first bottle of milk at 7:30 am, followed by her second bottle of milk by 11:15 am. At 12:30 she eats either fruit or a vegetable, and then at 3:15 he has another feeding time, this time a vegetable or fruit depending on what you gave her before, and then at 6:45 she has her last feed which is milk. Do you understand?’

Richie nodded somingly, even when he had to try hard to keep his laughter in, the serious and panicked look on Stan’s face too much to handle.

‘Of course Staniel, don’t you trust me to take care of your kids for a day?’

There was a beat of silence, during which Stan stared at Richie intently, trying to gauge if he was serious, or if he was just trying to provoke him. Then; ‘Off fucking course not Richie. Patty take your bags back inside, we’re not going.’

Laughter poured from Patty, who was just loading in her bag in the backseat, straitening up and walking closer to them. When she got close enough, she reached out and plucked Sofia out of Richie’s arms, her in hand holding her by her bum, while the other on supports the back of her head.

She coos at her daughter, full of love and not an ounce of annoyance anywhere visible on her entire face, despite the fact that Richie saw her slobber all over Patty’s blouse only minutes before she had to leave.

‘Sure we do Rich,’ Patty assures him while she grants his a kiss against his cheek as  goodbye. ‘Stan and I wouldn’t have asked you if we didn’t think you were up to the challenge. Besides, we’re only going to be gone for a night, and we’ll return first thing in the morning. If anything goes wrong he can call us.’

There only off to help Patty’s mom move into a new nursing home for the day and night, but it’s the first time that they’ve been away from their children since Sofia was born, and Richie insist to make their time away free of all concerns. That is if they finally leave at least.

Stan kisses his daughter on the forehead holding her close for one last moment, before allowing Patty to hand her back into Richie’s awaiting arms.

It shocks Richie’s that baby’s are so small, though he knows logically that everyone was that small at one point or another, it’s one thing to know it, and another to actually see it.

‘Eddie is here too, so there’s two of them.’ Patty and Stan resort to a silent stand-off, holding a none spoken argument that Patty wins, if her smug smile is anything to go by.

‘There are also two children, so let’s hope they can handle both.’ Richie fake gasps, moving to hold his hand up in faux outrage, but stops when he is reminded of the, albeit barely there, weight of little Sofia, who is now fast asleep on his chest.

Knowing when to be serious, Richie lets his facade drop, Bowing down to catch Stan's eyes, before smiling reassuringly. ‘We got this Stan, trust me.’

Stan smiles back without a moment of hesitation,’ I know. If anything happens to be my babies, I’ll kill you in your sleep.’ The serious expression on his face enough to make Richie gulp, regardless of the fact that he knows Stan doesn’t mean it.

‘Copy that sir.’

‘Speaking of our two babies, where’s Emily?’ Patty demands, turning in a circle in search for her but not locating here.

‘I’m pretty sure she roped Eddie into dress up and having a tea party with her, so I think for the sake of Eddie’s sanity, we should leave now.’

The bolstering laugh from Richie is way too loud on the peaceful morning most of Stan’s neighbors are experiencing, but Patty joins him, so it’s not too bad. Suspiciously, Patty pauses right after to stare longingly at her daughter, her eyes becoming a little wet.

‘Alright, let’s go. Give Eddie my best.’ She hugs Sophia one last time, then turns away to sniffle and hide her tears, no doubt a little sad a the prospect of not seeing her girls. Richie moves to comfort her, but Stan is on the case, and he can do a much better job than Richie, no doubt in his mind.

Richie stands there uncomfortably, rocking baby Sofia back and forth, and staring at her sleeping face to avoid stalking the two lovers in front of him.

He only looks up when Stan loudly proclaims their leaving, ‘come on Babylove.’ Waving at Sophia likes she’s about to wave back. After, he carefully hugs Richie’s side, avoiding squashing Soph while also deeming his goodbye to Richie.

He too is reluctant to leave Sophia and Emily in the care of Eddie and Richie, but not because he doesn’t trust them, he just finds it hard to go anywhere without them.

They still leave regardless, after ten more minutes of saying goodbye, then they finally leave, turning the corner right as Eddie comes out of the house checking up on Richie to see what was taking him so long.

When Richie turns to face Eddie, he shrieks with laughter, not managing to contain himself. Patty’s old lipstick red dress that has holes in the sides of them and a little bit of dirt on one of the sleeves looks good on Eddie, even if Richie may be a bit biased and thinks everything looks fantastic when it’s Eddie that’s wearing it, but it’s the pink crown and staff that he’s holding, and the murderous leer he’s showing, that has Richie cackling like there’s no tomorrow.

‘Don’t you fucking dare, asshole.’ Eddie swears menacingly, but Richie can’t take him seriously, not when Emily scatters out of the house to tug on the bottom of the dress, the three year old herself slipped in the princess dress Eddie and Richie gave her as a present on her birthday a few weeks back. He bets Eddie didn’t expect it to backfire this way.

‘Uncle Eddie come on’, Emily whines, the three year old wearing an frozen Anna dress that is a tad too big on her, ‘The others are waiting on us.’

The other include, mister giraffe, Amika the horse, and Elsa, all in the form of stuffed animals gifted to her by various losers when they came to visit.

‘Yeah uncle Eds, it’s rude to keep the guest waiting you know.’ Richie eggs her on, smirking in delight when Eddie unsuspiciously flips him the bird, but follows Emily anyway, off to indulge her in whatever she requests him to do.

His laughter caused Sophia to wake up again, and she fuzzily bangs her tiny fist on Richie’s chest, as if to convey that she’s mad she was awoken. He tries to bounce her gently up and down, to et her settled again, then changes his mind and enters the house on a whim, trudging up the stairs to join Eddie and Emily in her playroom.

Getting close enough to the door to hear Emily’s voice does the trick, as he expected it to. Sophia calms down, now resorted to peeking up at her uncle, a gurgle escaping her throat while she fists around a piece of his hair, giggling happily.

Richie’s heart melts a little, while he gets hit with an enormous amount of love and affection, and he starts to understand why Patty and Stan were so begrudged to go anywhere without her.

Her blanket, the one she has on her at all times, is still pined safely to the front of her beanie, bunched up in the hand that is not pulling one of his curls. He catches a glimpse of Eddie, folded nearly completely in on himself, forced to sit still in a chair that is even too small for Emily to fit in properly, sipping on a tea cup but making 100 % sure the side of it doesn’t touch his bottom lip.

Emily simpers, lifting her own teacup to her mouth with a pinky stretched up as a greeting to him, chastising Eddie like he is the kid instead of her, when Eddie stretches upwards to grab a muffin.

Doing a poor job of hiding his laughter, Eddie takes notice of Richie staring at them from the door opening, at first looking vex, but then an emotion crosses his eyes that Richie can’t define. He shakes his head and focuses back on the table, but not fast enough to stop the sentiment from getting picked up by Richie.

‘Well, it looks they’re too busy for us right now. It’s just me and you then. Don’t give me that look bumper’, the nickname Richie duped her after finding out that her name was chosen after they saw it on a bumper sticker slipping out effortlessly, not with standing the arguments of Stan. ‘She can not find out about that Richie. I swear to god, I will keep you away from her long enough until I’ve convinced her that everything you say is a lie.’

‘I can be a good replacement dad for the day, just you wait and see.’

-------------------

Five hours later, when the clock strikes 3:15 pm, Richie struggles with the preparing the baby formula, and he can’t figure out what he is supposed to do. There is milk that needs to be added, but when he mixes the powder and the liquid with one another, a sticky, soup of residue is left behind, and that is impossible to taste good.

Embarrassingly, Richie resorts to researching the internet, clicking on video after video to find the same brand Patty and Stan use, to be absolutely assured that he’s doing the right thing. Then when it finally hits him over the head that it is supposed to look like that, he can’t get the temperature right.

The first time he puts it in the microwave he warms it so hot that he can’t even grasp the bottle in his hands, dropping it and staring at the milk that leaked all over the floor, cursing his life and every decision that has brought him up to that point.

The second one is still cold, and he briefly considers giving the baby cold milk, before he remembers Patty’s warnings and places it back in the microwave, when he takes it out, it’s hot enough to make him release a hiss.

He gets more and more frustrated, his emotions pilling on top of each other to leave one huge dump of distress that he can’t possibly take on too, not alongside two kids, and it only gets worse when Sophia has a fit and starts crying.

Richie’s earlier tricks to calm her down don’t work, not even after a few tries, so with a groan, he throws in the towel and yanks out his cellphone, feeling like a complete and utter failure.

‘Hey Richie, do you know where Stan and Patty keep their desserts? Sophia is craving something sweet and I used the opportunity to have myself a little break.’

Eddie pauses when he steps foot in the kitchen, hey eyebrows coming together to frown when he takes in the disheveled state Richie is in.

‘What’s wrong?’ Richie shakes his head uselessly, his shoulders shrugging helplessly while gesturing towards Sophia who is nestled against his shoulder, her cries muffled but still audible.

‘I don’t know how to prepare milk.’ Eddie has the audacity to snort, a sound that Richie has never heard coming from him, so he’s helpless to let out a small one himself.

‘Don’t laugh at me Eduardo, I’m in a deep crisis right now and I require your help.’ Walking closer, Eddie accept the bottle handed to him, the word ‘auch’ escaping from him at the warmth burning his palm.

‘My help? Why me?’ Eddie asks, shooting Richie a questioning look. A pink red sticker is hanging on his forehead, Richie then notices, but since Eddie is apparently blissfully unaware of it, Richie keeps it to himself.

‘Well Eds, I assume you have enough experience with babies, you know. Since you were treated like one your entire life?’ He winces when the words leave his mouth, his mind too preoccupied with Sophia to think twice about what he was about to speak in existence.

‘Fuck you, dude. And don’t call me Eds asshole.’ Luckily, Eddie waves the comment away with the tip of his hand, doing his signature move where he pretends to karate chop the air. ‘Come here, give her to me for a second.’ Eddie suggests, and Richie obliges, handing her over with extreme caution, even when she very willingly goes.

‘You’re uncle Rich is a bit of an idiot huh? How about we go and see how we can prepare your- well it’s not dinner yet, let’s say afternoon snack?’ Sophia quieted down as she got comfortable in Eddie’s arms, one of his arms beginning to prep the formula, again, during which the other held her up and close.

He then leaned in to whisper something in her ear, not loud enough for Richie to decipher what they were talking about, but it caused Eddie to gleam again, and even Sophia let out a big grin, happily going along with whatever her uncle Eddie was proclaiming.

The sight of a baby in Eddie’s arms, his eyes twinkling in pure adoration, his grin wide enough to show teeth, while he rocked her back and forth, made Richie want to beg Eddie to raise a child with him.

He dismissed the idea soon enough though, for if Eddie had a wish for kids, surely he would have said something by now. But he knows already that the image was going to haunt his dreams for a long time, the mesmerizing sight of what could be, or could have been did not plan on leaving his mind any time soon.

He must stare for a tad too long, Eddie feeling his gaze upon him so he glances up, their eyes meeting. Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but before he can he is interrupted by Emily, impatient from waiting too long or her cookie.

‘Uncle Eddie, what’s taking you so long?’ She complains, rolling her eyes when she notices that Eddie is holding her sister.

‘In a minute sweety, I’m just helping uncle Rich out right now.’ Having an excuse from being in Eddie’s proximity while he’s holding a baby, Richie jumps on the opportunity to get out. The fact that he missed his other niece aswell guides his decision too.

‘I’ll play dress up with you for a while Princess Ems.’ He bows down extravagantly, acting as if there is real royalty in front of him.

‘Don’t you want me to teach you how to prepare milk?’ Eddie summons, his voice edged with a tint of confusion at Richie’s sudden interest to leave.

‘You can teach me about that later Eds, she needs her drink three times a day.’ Richie reassures him, fiddling with his thumbs while he begs Eddie to let the subject drop.  

‘But uncle Eddie was so cool, all my friends wanted to meet him.’ Emily had yet to grow out of the phase where she us jealous of her little sister, so her whole argument isn’t about Eddie specifically, it’s about her not entertaining the idea of anyone giving her sister the light of day from who she demands it from.

But that’s alright. Richie is nothing if not persuasive.  ‘Aye, that’s true but they have yet to meet me’, Richie performs, making use of the pirates accent and langue he had to learn for an audition. Emily giggles in delight, easily swayed when it involved her uncle Richie, and even more so when it had to do with his voices.

‘And if they don’t wanna know a seadog like me, I’ll force those scallywags to walk the plank. Aye. Now let’s go, heave-ho upstairs so I can be introduced.’

Emily nods enthusiastically, practically running up the stairs two steps at a time, and Richie follows with just as much energy, yelling ‘aye’ or ‘are’, every so few seconds. In his haste, he is oblivious to the same longing look Eddie gives him, when he sees him interact with a child.

-----

It’s a long day, and Richie can feel the bone deep exhaustion creeping up on him when he eventually makes his way over to the couch, Eddie dozing on the rug with the baby monitor still in his hands.

It’s not even eleven pm yet, and Richie knows that Eddie would be more relaxed in a bed than the sofa, but he also knows that they’ll be awaken more than a few times during the night, so he lets Eddie sleep.

In the wardrobe in Stan and Patty’s living room, Richie discovers a blanket, big enough to cover both him and Eddie, so he takes it, vowing to wash it before they get home. It’s soft and fluffy, and perfect to sleep with, but as soon as he tucks it around Eddie, he shits up, all sleep vanished from his eyes.

He blinks up at Richie, shuffling closer to him while disposing of the baby phone on the ground next to were they are seated, and rearranging the quilt till every part of their bodies is covered with it.

Eddie’s head lays on Richie’s shoulder, while one of his arms rubs up and down his arm and shoulder, grabbing strands of his arm hair with him sometimes, which is just what Richie needs to stay awake, the small jolts of pain keep him on his toes. And that’s necessary, he discovers over the next minute.

Without facing Richie, Eddie drops a bombshell like he’s never done before, causing Richie to choke on his own spit. ‘I want to have a baby.’

I want to have a baby, I want to have a baby, I want to have a baby, the words play on repeat in his head, ricocheting of the walls and tumbling but sticking none the less, Richie brain turning into mind numbing fizz, absolutely no thoughts besides Eddie words formulating.

The coughing alerts Eddie, who sits up straighter, looking back Richie’s way with wide eyes, as he looks on on the natural disaster that is about to concur in front of him.

When his brain comes back online, mortifying is not even big enough a word to describe the shame Richie feels for his reaction, so, he resorts to what he always does; using humor as a blockage.  

‘Christ Eds, I don’t think that possible. You know, question of having the right body parts. It’s a shame really, me and your mom.-‘

‘Beep, Beep Richie.’ Eddie interrupts him strictly. ‘I need you to be honest. No jokes, just you.’ That’s a hard task, since it’s become second nature to Richie to use it as a defense mechanism, but for Eddie he’s willing to try.

‘And before you say anything, let me talk first’, Eddie insists, waiting till he gets an approving nod from Richie to continue. ‘Today, seeing you with Sophia and Emily, I realized that you’re so good with kids. And before today I honestly didn’t think I wanted children, but I guess that I didn’t want them with Myra, but I do want them with you. What do you think?’ Eddie prompts, trying to gauche Richie’s reaction, but even Eddie sometimes has trouble doing that, and now is one of those times.

Holding his breath nervously, not even Richie’s hand grabbing his is enough to calm him down, his fingers drumming against his upper leg.

‘I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.’ Richie entrust Eddie, his body visibly relaxing when it’s clear that Richie is at the very least not going to yell at him for suggestion kids in the first place.

Their lips meet in the middle of Stan’s couch, the house around them eerily quite while the two of them are stuck in a haze together, blissfully unaware of what’s happening outside of their bubble. It’s a reassuring kiss, their lips lazily in sinc, neither in a rush, to help calm both of them down just a little, before diving head first into the deep shit again.

‘Are you sure you want to have kids with me? Because today I fucked up her stupid bottle. I mean, who can’t warm milk? And I don’t want you to hate me over something that I can’t do. I’m scared I’ll put all this weight on you and you’ll resent me for it, and I can’t have that, Eds, I can deal with everything else, but I can’t deal with you hating me.’ Richie proclaims, out of breath and sucking in large gulps of air.

Eddie pulls his face closer to his, both of his palms on either side of Richie’s head. ‘Listen to me dipshit, cause I’m only fucking saying this ones. You could murder someone in front of me, and I would roll with it okay? I came out and left my wife, and yeah, part of that was because of me, but I would have never understood what those feeling were if it weren’t for you. I love you Richie, and that’s never going to change no matter what.’ Eddie pauses, searching Richie eyes for confirmation that he understood. ‘Dipshit’, he added when he found it.

Richie let out a titter, one of his hands coming up to cover Eddie’s and leaning into the touch.

‘If you’re only worried about not knowing stuff to do with the kids, than I can help with that. That’s what a relationship is. I teach you things, and you teach me. Besides, there’s going to be a specific choir assignment, because there’s no fucking way I’m cleaning a baby’s diaper.’

‘Well then, Edward Francis Kaspbrak, it would be my honor to have a baby with you.’ Eddie’s face it up, through and through genuineness this time. No annoyance or irritation anywhere in sight, so of course, Richie had to change that.

‘Again, not biological because that would be impossible.’

‘Shut the fuck up asshole.’ Eddie grabbed a pillow to whack Richie full in the face, laughter pouring out of him when he accidentally knocked his glaces off.

‘Hey Eds, you might want to learn how to control that temper of yours, we wouldn’t want our beloved child to adapt the same words right?’

‘Seriously, I’ll fucking murder you if you don’t shut the fuck up.’

[errantknightess]

Truth in the mirror

Pairing: Lavi/Allen

Word count: 10,624

Summary: Lavi has to break a curse before it breaks his heart.

A/N: Requested by a dear anon who asked for a curious Lavi stumbling upon a cursed mirror and had to wait entirely too long to see their idea realized - I’m really really sorry about that! Hopefully the final product will be worth the wait ;;

[Read on AO3]

The light of the oil lamp danced on the broken book spines, worn-out gilded letters glistening faintly in the glow. Lavi walked slowly along the aisle, sliding his finger over the dusty leather covers and breathing in the moldy smell of old paper as he brought his face closer to decipher the faded titles. Every now and then, he stopped to pull a thick tome halfway from the shelf, only to glance at it and cram it back in with disappointment. The palace library housed thousands of volumes, all of them perfectly organized – and yet, he still couldn’t find what he came here for.

“Hey, Miranda?” he called in a hushed voice that rolled clear through the dead silence. “Where are all the archival almanacs from two centuries ago? I don’t see any of them here.”

The librarian slinked out of the darkness, a quiet shadow in a black dress and a state of constant trepidation. Lavi has never once seen her anywhere else around the palace. Nervous and timid as she was, she rarely left the peaceful seclusion of the library.

“They should be here, right?” Lavi asked, waving his hand towards the shelf in front of them. Miranda followed the gesture with a concerned look. For a moment, her eyes darted over the books, and then stilled, staring off into space as she pressed her hand to her mouth in a sudden realization.

“Oh,” she whimpered, fingers trembling against her chin. “Oh, my.”

“What’s the matter?” Lavi raised his eyebrow, shifting his gaze between Miranda and the shelf. “Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal if you misplaced them. I can help you look. I need them, after all.”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Miranda said quickly, a panicked look flashing through her face. “I didn’t— I didn’t touch them! If they’re not here… If they’re not here, they must be up in the observatory.” Her voice cracked, and she paused, wide-eyed, wringing her hands anxiously.

There was something more than her usual unrest in the way she tensed up – a cold, pale fear that unsettled even Lavi as he watched her. As much as he needed those books, he really couldn’t ask her to retrieve them now. The poor woman looked as if she were about to fall apart where she stood.

Lavi sighed, scratching at his temple as he weighed his options.

There weren’t many.

“Well, then.” He forced a smile and turned to the door, the light of the lamp wavering with the movement. “I guess I’ll better go look for them.”

Miranda stammered, and in the quivering shadows it was hard to judge if she was more relieved or worried at his decision.

Honestly, Lavi couldn’t blame her. He had heard the stories many times even in those few months he has spent at the court so far. The abandoned tower in the east wing had a grim reputation among the servants. Some nights, when the wind flickered the fire in the hearth and the low rumble of thunder heralded a brewing storm, they would skulk and whisper about the strange things they had seen and heard there. They spoke of knocks and thuds echoing through the corridors, of lights appearing suddenly in the empty room, and of pale specters standing silent in the dark doorway.

Lavi recalled it all as he walked down the hall, his footsteps unbearably loud in the stillness of the night. The sky outside the tall arched windows was sprinkled with stars, the treetops down in the garden silvery blue in the pale light. He hadn’t even noticed when the sun set while he was busy in the library.

After a few minutes of meandering through the empty corridors, he finally found the narrow staircase leading to the observatory tower. A cold shiver ran down his spine when he set his foot on the first step: just a draft, he insisted. Shaking himself off, he took one last look over his shoulder and started climbing the tall, spiraling stairs. The stone slabs were slippery and uneven, making him stumble and grasp at the walls to keep his balance. When he reached the top, stopping in front of a sturdy looking door, his hands were clammy and sweaty; he wiped them on his shirt and slowly reached for the handle. It moved heavily, hesitantly, but at last – with screeching of hinges and moaning of the warped wood – the door opened.

The room was dark, rimmed with deep shadows that made everything look as if it was cut out of paper. The floor was a mess – unsurprising, but still unsettling. Lavi made a few uncertain steps forward, shuffling his feet so he wouldn’t stumble over the clutter. As his eye got used to the dark, he made out a long telescope by the window, the outlines of shelves filled with some odd instruments on the walls, and a tattered map of the sky on a stand in the corner. Just opposite the door stood a tall mirror, reaching from the floor nearly up to the ceiling. Lavi turned his head as he passed it, wincing when he caught a glimpse of his own shadow in the reflection. There was something disturbing  about mirrors in the dark, something that made him uneasy no matter how he reasoned with himself.

Trying his best to ignore that feeling, he crossed the room to the huge table in the middle. It looked like a good place to start, strewn with papers, rolls of parchment and crudely bound notebooks. Lavi started to sift through all of that, picking up every thicker volume he found and peering at it in the scarce light – but if the almanacs really were there, he couldn’t see them anywhere underneath all this chaos.

THUD

Lavi flinched, looking around nervously. Did he knock something over in the dark? It was hard to tell, but he hoped whatever it was didn’t break. All those tools scattered around looked delicate and complicated, and despite how uneasy this place was making him feel, he was already itching to come back here later when he could take a better look at them.

THUD

This time, it was louder – and now he was sure where it came from. Lavi whipped around on instinct, coming face to face with his dark reflection. The sight froze the blood in his veins, but this time, it was not just his own shadow.

In the mirror, there was someone standing right behind him.

Lavi stumbled away from the table, wasting no time to look back. He shot out of the door, slamming his shoulder hard against the opposite wall, and ran blindly, taking two steps at once and nearly tumbling down the stairs. Outside the dark staircase, the dim light of sconces was blinding. The lamps blurred in the corner of his eye as he raced along the corridor, at this point pushed more by the momentum than shock. He didn’t stop until he reached the library door again, frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears like an echo of his heavy footsteps.

“Are you all right?” Miranda’s voice barely broke through to him as he closed the door behind him, leaning back against the rough wood. “Why are you shaking? Did—did something happen?”

“I’m fine.” Lavi managed, still a bit breathless after his desperate dash. “Just… cold. It was really cold up there, that’s all.” He cleared his throat, trying his best to look unfazed under Miranda’s worried gaze. Maybe he has been spending too much time with her – surely he hadn’t been this jumpy before.

“I can’t believe you really went there, and in the middle of the night.” Miranda shook her head with a sigh. “Let’s hope the ghosts didn’t get angry with you. Make sure to wash your hands with thyme before bed, just to be safe. Did you find the almanacs?”

“No.” Lavi couldn’t quite find it in himself now to argue that ghosts didn’t exist. “I didn’t look too well, though. There’s still a few places I haven’t checked. I’ll go again tomorrow. Surely the ghosts will be asleep then,” he added quickly to appease her. Sooner or later, he knew he would find himself coming back there no matter what.

Even under the haze of dread, unanswered questions continued to gnaw at him all through the night.

 ***

Though restless as it was, sleep helped him clear his head a little. In the light of the morning, the fears from earlier felt embarrassingly irrational. Yes, he did see something last night – of that he was sure; just as sure as he was now that there had to be a logical explanation for whatever it was. And Lavi needed to find it, or he wouldn’t have a peaceful night again.

He had barely swallowed his breakfast before curiosity led him to the foot of the spiral staircase once more. His heart quivered as he mounted the narrow steps, but this time Lavi was not afraid anymore – just excited.

The room looked just the same as he left it. With the sun pouring in through the latticed window, it was easier to see exactly how ruined it was. Everywhere in sight lay broken pieces of ceramic, upturned chairs and drawers pulled out onto the floor, spilling their contents like the innards of a mauled animal. Lavi carefully stepped over a tangled heap of dark fabric and made his way to the table. Now that he could see properly, the task of digging through the piles of papers wasn’t as daunting as he thought it would be. The only obstacle left was distraction.

Surrounded with such an immense amount of books and notes, Lavi couldn’t help but look over them closely as he set them aside stack after stack. There were charts and tables, thick tomes of theories and treatises, and hundreds of loose sheets and parchment scrolls filled with dense, careless writing. The same letters swirled on the few bound notebooks laying around, scribbled over the rough covers in red ink: Allen Walker. Lavi had heard it before, repeated in hushed tones around the dying fire in the palace kitchens. A former royal astrologist, a strange young man who disappeared one day just as mysteriously as he had arrived. Lavi’s fingers tingled as he ran them over the dusty notes. What could have happened to him? Where did he go? Why did he leave all of this work here? It’s such a waste, he thought bitterly, thumbing through another volume and wincing as the pages fluttered with a parade of anatomical diagrams. Astrology, medicine, even alchemy – the room was brimming with orphaned knowledge, and Lavi wished he could soak it all up right from the dusty air.

This was not all he came here for, though. Even as he burrowed himself in the documents, the faint glint of glass across the room kept stealing his attention time and again. Whenever he looked up, Lavi would catch his own wary eye staring back at him from the murky reflection, until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Leaving the table, he crossed the floor in a few firm strides that wouldn’t give him enough time to change his mind. From up close, the mirror didn’t look remarkable at all, the smooth surface flecked with dust and stains of old age. Lavi inspected it closely, carefully running his fingers along the simple frame carved in jade. There had to be something more to it than it seemed. Whatever he saw last night, it was probably some trick of the light, a crafty illusion, and he just had to figure out how this thing worked. He peeked around the frame, but all he found there was just more dust. No hollowed out niches, no secret mechanisms. Nothing that could explain seeing things that weren’t there. Puzzled, Lavi pulled back to face his reflection again – and barely bit down a scream of shock.

The apparition was there again, white and shining and looking straight at him with wide silver eyes. Lavi blinked, staring back at it with cold sweat running down his spine. Slowly, he took a step back, boots crunching on the clutter on the floor. The figure in the mirror didn’t move, still piercing him with those eyes – intense, bright, glistening.

Pleading.

Even if Lavi wanted to run, his legs felt like stone pillars mounted firmly in the ground. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he had half-expected to see it again, but even so, it still took him by surprise – too sudden, too close, and much too real. And yet this time, looking into the fair face of the boy that stood in place of his own reflection, Lavi realized he was not afraid at all.

The boy’s shoulders drooped in what looked like relief, a deep sigh fogging around his lips for a few seconds. Lavi watched as he raised his hand and knocked on the glass. The mirror shook with a dull clang, the image rippling like waves on a lake. Nothing more happened, though, and after a tense moment of hesitation Lavi decided to step closer again. The silver eyes widened, trained on him as the ghostly boy suddenly opened his mouth. No sound followed, but his lips shaped a single desperate word that Lavi recognized immediately:

Help.

Taking a final step towards the mirror, Lavi carefully reached out and put his fingers to the dusty surface. It felt cold, smooth and firm like a block of ice. His skin started to tingle against the touch, and he pulled it back immediately, hissing at the itch still wriggling right through his bones. Most peculiar. There was some magic at work there, no doubt about it.

Lavi had never had much experience with spells and sorcery. His master made sure he stayed as far away from it as he could in his line of work. Nothing good ever came from getting involved with magic – especially of this kind. Lavi chewed at his lip, the gears in his mind spinning under the imploring gaze from the mirror. Returning freedom to those sealed away was burdened with consequences. A powerful jinn or a mischievous dytko could cause a lot of trouble if they were let out by reckless actions. He should be cautious – he had to know exactly what he was dealing with.

Taut with anticipation, Lavi leveled his eye at the figure, steel needles of static dancing in the air between them.

“Who are you?" he whispered.

The boy didn’t reply, just leaned against the mirror with his hands splayed on the glass.

“Can you hear me?” Lavi dared to raise his voice just a little, but he could already see it wouldn’t make any difference. The boy in the mirror stared back at him with sad eyes, his lips fluttering again with soundless words.

“Hold on,” Lavi muttered, raising his finger in a gesture he could only hope would get it across. In a blink, he was back at the table, sifting through the notes until he found some blank scraps of parchment and a shabby quill stuck in an inkwell. The ink had gone dry a long time ago, but mixing it with some spit was more than good enough for him at the moment. Lavi dropped his findings in front of the mirror and hastily wrote his question, holding the parchment up for the boy to see:

Can you read?

The boy’s face lit up in an instant. He answered with a vehement nod, and Lavi didn’t waste time, dipping the quill back in the ink so quickly he almost spilled it.

Do you have a name?

His stomach light with thrill, Lavi watched as the boy opened his mouth again – but instead of speaking, he misted the glass with his breath and quickly started to scribble in the vapor with his finger. The mirrored letters were pale and wobbly, vanishing almost immediately:

Allen.

It felt like a pebble falling into its place in a confusing, half-finished mosaic. Lavi’s eye darted back to the table, back to the notebooks signed with the same name in the same sloppy handwriting. He tried to recall everything he had heard about this tower, about the hauntings and the missing astrologist, but there wasn’t much he could hold on to in those fanciful stories. Was this some kind of a trick after all? Or could the figure in the mirror really be…

But before Lavi could string his confusion and excitement into a coherent sentence, Allen started to write something again, fingers gliding over the glass and leaving a trail of lines as ghostly as himself:

Who are you?

Lavi hesitated, watching the mist fade away to reveal a pale face brimming with anticipation. Could he really trust this person? He still didn’t know for sure what he was facing – but would he ever get any closer to the truth if he backed away now?

He could divulge at least this much, he decided, his heart crawling up to his throat when he wrote the next sentence: I’m Lavi, the chronicler at the court. Knowing this shell of a name wouldn’t give anyone any power over him, and either way he would discard it as soon as the palace gates close behind him for the last time.

Allen tilted his head, staring at him with a thoughtful frown. A moment later, his face was a blur again, hasty strokes cutting through the screen of mist, but whatever he was trying to say faded away before Lavi could read it. Somehow, this helped to put his doubts at ease. As much as he yearned for this mysterious stranger to explain everything, he felt safer knowing that he was more in control of this conversation. It was his turn now, anyway – and so he quickly scrawled his next questions, smudging the letters with a shaky hand:

Are you the missing astrologist? Why are you here?

Allen’s face lit up with a surprised smile. He nodded eagerly, strands of silver- white hair flying over his eyes. His gaze was piercing, glimmering with unasked questions. It almost hurt to look – but Lavi wanted his own questions answered first. Restlessly, he tapped the second line with his quill, urging him on.

The smile fell. Allen bit his lip, turning those bright eyes away. For a moment, Lavi feared that was it, but then he started writing in his breath again, this time just a single, grim word: curse.

So he was right. Lavi eyed the mirror cautiously, nervous tension tingling in his fingertips. It was best to stay out of matters like this – but by now, curiosity had seized him firmly in its chilling grip and he knew it wouldn’t let go so easily. One of the greatest mysteries of the palace was right in front of him, just out of his reach, only a thin pane of glass separating him from the explanation he wanted so badly. He needed to know this story, to learn it straight from the source, to fill in the blanks left in the records. And then – then there was so much more that Allen could tell him…! His notes alone would be enough to quench Lavi’s thirst for learning for months. They were full of obscure science and research, things he’s never heard about, things he couldn’t even read. All this knowledge, and the only person who could share it with him was stuck in a crystal cage like a songless bird.

When he put his pen to paper again, there was no trace of doubt or hesitation left in his racing mind.

If I let you out, Lavi wrote, shooting Allen a determined look, will you promise to teach me?

Allen frowned, his mouth round with surprise: What?

I want to learn all you know. Everything. The tip of the quill flew over the parchment, scraping a thick, resolute line under the word. If I bring you back, you’ll tell me about your work and show me what you do. Sounds fair?

It took a moment for Allen to reply, a tense moment he spent drilling his gaze into Lavi as if he was trying to see something deep inside him. Lavi stared right back at him, studying that pale face for any hint to his thoughts – until finally, the astrologist nodded slowly. One of his hands reached up to the glass, the pads of his fingers pearly white where they met the surface. Lavi pressed his own hand against it, the hairs on his arm rising at the sudden bite of the magic discharge. This was an agreement, then. A simple pact, no more binding than a promise made to a friend, but somehow that gave it even more weight. They’ve only just met, and yet this stranger decided to trust him. Allen’s eyes were so full of hope it made his stomach churn. He knew next to nothing about magic – will he really be able to help?

Hesitant, Lavi tapped his fingers on the mirror’s frame, tracing the white veins in the smooth stone. The easiest way to break any spell was to destroy the enchanted object – but who could tell what would happen to Allen then? For all Lavi knew, he could very well shatter along with the glass prison that held him. They couldn’t risk it. The curse, whatever it was, had to be lifted properly.

Do you know the spell that was used? He wrote, dampening the tip of the quill with his tongue after each word. The dried remains of ink were running low, and Allen couldn’t really say much with his fading words, either, but that at least would be something to get them started. But when he held the parchment up to the mirror, all he got in response was a dejected shake of the head.

Lavi sighed, rubbing his temple to collect his thoughts, but somewhere deep down he could already feel the swelling excitement – a rising wave, ready to sweep him up and toss into a wild frenzy of research. He might be no good with magic, but he was great with books, and that was more than enough for now. This was a puzzle, a trick lock; all he had to do was find the right key.

I’ll start searching for a way to undo it, Lavi scribbled. If you can think of anything that might work, let me know.

Allen nodded behind the screen of fog, his eyes shining though the thin, shaky smudges: Thank you.

Lavi couldn’t help the smile that crept on his lips – but it was faint, and brief, and gone before the mist dissipated.

 ***

The moon was high up in the sky, pale rays breaking on the floor as Lavi pried the age-crusted window open. A mild breeze fluttered the candle flames and stirred the yew seeds scattered inside the charcoal circle at his feet. He carefully made his way back around it and knelt down over the book propped open against a stack of others. The diagram spread on the yellowed pages looked neater than the one he drew on the rough floorboards, but as long as all the sigils and ingredients were placed in the right configuration, the spell should still work.

“Let’s see,” Lavi muttered, picking at his lip as his eye flew over the faded text, checking everything for the last time. This spell was a bit more complicated than everything he had tried so far. Stronger, too. Maybe this time it could finally work.

A soft knock coming from the mirror stole his attention. Lavi looked up, just in time to see Allen’s message fading from the glass: It’s messed up.

“Whoops, sorry!” He followed Allen’s gaze and frantically reached out to sweep up the pile of thistle ash disturbed by the breeze. His hand trailed a faint gray smudge as he wiped it on the front of his shirt, sending Allen a lopsided smile. See, it’s all good now. Everything’s going to be fine.

Allen returned the smile, but his face remained tense. He looked as nervous as Lavi felt, fidgeting behind the cursed screen as he observed the preparations. Lavi couldn’t blame him – after all, his life now lay in the hands of a novice who wasn’t even sure what he was doing.

He turned back to the book, the words melting together in his head from the dozens of times he had read them already. As he pored over the lengthy list of directions, he could almost feel his old master’s disapproving glare boring into the back of his skull. For all the reverence for knowledge inherent to his profession, this was one of the few things he had been explicitly forbidden from studying. And yet here he was, with the bitter, earthy scent of herbs clinging to his hands, troubled less by defying his teachings and more by the disadvantage they put him at.

Never mind that now. With a bit of luck, this will be the last time he goes against them.

Are you ready? He scribbled on a shred of parchment, one of many he’d brought along to make sure he could talk freely. The floor around him was strewn with shreds of earlier conversations, questions and ideas jotted down in hasty, sloppy handwriting. He’d pick them up and burn them when he was done, just to be safe – a relic of his training that he found hard to shake, even though no one seemed to take interest in what he was doing up here.

Allen nodded, eyes trained on him expectantly. It was too hard to meet them. Averting his glance, Lavi stood up and stopped at the edge of the circle, careful not to smear the outline. With a deep, measured breath, he reached down and picked up the small cup he had prepared earlier, the smooth ceramic still warm to the touch.

“Here goes,” he sighed and slowly spilled its contents in the center of the ring. A strong, spicy scent rose into the air as the brew splashed onto the floor. The candlelight flickered in the dark puddle like scattered coins. Lavi put the cup away and crouched down, dipped a shaky finger in the mixture and started to stir, scraping against the wet wood in small, deliberate spirals. Across the circle, Allen drew closer, leaning wide-eyed against the glass pane. Lavi did his best to avoid his gaze, focusing on the warmth coating his fingertips and the almost hypnotic movements of his own hand.

The breeze picked up again, the window rattled against the wall in the sudden surge. The candle flame shot higher, casting long, dancing shadows on the cluttered floor. Lavi held his breath, almost choking on the lungful of heady aromas all around him. The brew bubbled, foamed, steamed – and settled again before he could even think to pull his hand away. The candles went out. The silver streaks of moonlight faded under his scalded fingers, plunging the room in a cold, silky twilight.

Nothing happened.

Lavi sat back on the hard floor, feeling a choking lump of ice slowly dislodge from his throat and drop heavily to the pit of his stomach. Disappointment weighed down on him as he got back his bearings, wrapped in silence and the smell of blown out candles. With a sigh, he shuffled through the ring, paying no mind to the now useless remains of the spell, and turned his oil lamp back up.

If it was hard to look Allen in the eye before, it was impossible now. He sat there still and silent, head bowed low, hugging his knees tight to his chest with a white-knuckled grip. Lavi took one glance at the dejected slump of his shoulders and pointedly busied himself with inspecting the mirror frame, looking for any signs of success that he already knew he wouldn’t find.

I think it looks more cracked than before, he wrote, pressing the scrap against the fizzling glass before turning it around to show Allen. The astrologist just pursed his lips and shook his head with a look that made Lavi ashamed for playing with his hopes like this.

Good work, though, came a misty reply, and for a moment Lavi’s heart felt lighter before crumpling up with defeat once more.

Not good enough if you’re still in there. I’ve got one more, take a look, he wrote back. As soon as he held the paper up, he was already reaching out with the other hand to pull the right book out from the bottom of the stack. Allen tilted his head quizzically, craning his neck to see as Lavi leafed through the abundantly marked pages.

Here. Lavi set the book down at last, tapping his finger on an intricately inked initial. Allen quickly skimmed over the first paragraph and looked back up to give him a resolute nod. His eyes were bright with confidence, shining in the mirror like a twin reflection of the silver moon.

Lavi caught himself staring. He cleared his throat, eye darting away to focus on the open page instead, examining the tiny, densely packed script upside down as if he could read it. It didn’t matter either way; he could recall the instructions word for word ever since the first time he read them. He had never praised his perfect memory as much as he did these days, digging through dozens of books each day and having to keep track of every little snippet that could help him.

I’ll get to it now. The last word drowned in a black splatter as Lavi dropped the quill in his hurry to start working. It took only a moment to brush aside the mess left by the previous attempt, scrub down the lines from the floorboards and discard the half-melted candles. His limbs were heavy with fatigue, but determination lent fire to his body and kept him moving as he went about setting the new spell up, hands trembling under the watchful silver gaze. It was all simple things this time too, herbs he had snuck out from the kitchens and seeds he had bought in the market on his days off. Good, helpful magic did not demand much, it seemed.

And yet, Lavi still came up short.

“Damn it,” he muttered, looking haplessly around the jumble of books and ingredients. He shot Allen an apologetic glance and heaved himself up, wobbling a bit on his stiffened legs. A puzzled look from the mirror followed him all the way as he circled the room, rummaging in the cupboards and drawers.

I forgot to bring a knife, he explained once he plopped back on his spot, rubbing his eye from the dust and the candle smoke and lack of sleep. Hold on, I’ll go get it real quick.

The mirror fogged up before he even made to stand up again.

You need rest. Allen looked at him over the writing, his eyes firm.

It won’t be long, Lavi assured, but Allen’s gaze held him in place even as it disappeared once more behind a screen of mist:

I can wait.

Are you sure? Lavi held the parchment up to cover the traitorous yawn that escaped him just then. Judging by Allen’s face, he still noticed.

Go to sleep. His eyes softened as he smiled, steel melting back into silver, and Lavi couldn’t help but answer with a smile on his own, pale and tired and grateful.

I’ll come back tomorrow, then. He gave Allen a little wave and reached out on a whim to playfully poke his nose with the tip of the quill. Allen winced comically, stumbling back in surprise despite the glass separating them.

Goodnight, Lavi. He punctuated it with a prod towards Lavi’s nose in turn, shaking his head not without amusement.

 ***

The silence of the library wrapped around him like a heavy blanket, filling his ears and brain with cotton numbness. Lavi fidgeted on the hard chair, rhythmically tapping his quill against the desk to stay focused. It was getting late, later than he would usually stay in there recently, but there were still some books he wanted to check before heading up to the tower. He leafed through the yellowed pages, stopping every now and then to jot down a note and mark the spot with a piece of parchment. Even the simplest things, even if it didn’t seem like much – he would grab onto anything that held the faintest ray of promise. There weren’t many of those, though. With a sigh, Lavi set the volume aside and opened the next one, biting down at a smile as his eye fell on the familiar sloppy handwriting on the margin. Scribbling on books was not something he approved of, but Allen’s notes were often more helpful than the text they annotated, so Lavi was willing to forgive him for this awful habit.

That, however, was one of few traces Allen seemed to have left in the royal writings at all. The documents and chronicles Lavi had perused made no mention of his name, and at any rate it was a blind search without knowing how far back he should look. Even with all his love for puzzles, this one was frustrating to no end. Books and records had never let him down in the past – but this time, no matter how hard he looked, it appeared they did not have the answers.

There was but one way left to figure it out.

The night was dark and still when he finally climbed the steep stairs of the tower, weighed down with half a dozen volumes and a sack of spell ingredients. Allen was already waiting for him, the same bright smile as always lighting up his face as soon as Lavi opened the door. His eyes glinted in the gray shadow of the room before they were covered by a veil of vapor: Hello.

“Hi,” Lavi whispered, pressing his open hand to the cold glass. He set down his load and rummaged in the sack for the writing supplies, but before he even uncorked the inkwell, he saw Allen already writing again.

What’s wrong?

Lavi looked away quickly, smoothing out the crinkled shred of parchment in his hands.

Why would anything be wrong?

You look… troubled, Allen replied, hesitating a bit between breaths. His eyes widened, watchful and so full of concern that for a moment Lavi’s resolve wavered. He didn’t want to see them grow dark with the memories of the painful past.

I’m tired. I had a long day, he wrote, playing for time with himself. Allen nodded with understanding as he eyed the stack of books in front of the mirror.

Found it? He asked.

I think so. Lavi pulled up one of the books and cracked it open on the spell that seemed to match what Allen had told him last time. He got it right – and he couldn’t help but smile at the wonky drawing of a happy face he got in answer.

We can try it now, I’ve got everything prepared-- Lavi’s quill hovered in place, heavy drops of ink dripping from the tip and crashing onto the parchment. But first, I wanted to ask you something.

Allen raised his eyebrows, finger fluttering on the glass like a lost butterfly. Ask what?

Lavi studied his face for a moment, smearing the ink over his hands as he twirled the quill nervously before he finally started writing.

How did you end up in there? You’ve never told me what happened.

The shift in Allen’s face was hard to miss even in the dim light – the way his pale cheeks turned even whiter and the shadows under his eyes sharpened. He looked away, down at his fidgeting hands, and when he raised his eyes again, they were filled with leaden unease. His lips trembled as he took a deep breath – then another – and once more – but each time he let them out, their mist would wither away without an answer. Lavi watched him intently, holding still as if the slightest move could ruin the delicate balance and push Allen to withdraw even further – but in the end, it didn’t matter.

Can’t say. Allen shook his head, the shrinking fog taking the words away from under his fingers.

Why not? Lavi pressed, his eye still fixed firm on Allen’s face. What’s wrong with that?

Just can’t.

Can’t or won’t? Lavi swallowed down the disappointment, writing so quickly he nearly tore through the parchment. Is this a part of the curse? Or do you—he paused, ready to cross it out, but the bitterness gnawing at his guts won. Or do you not want to? Don’t you trust me?

It’s not—Allen’s hand trembled, a deep sigh hiding his face in a blur. –not that.

Then why not tell me?

Allen shook his head again, more frantic, leaning against the glass as he misted it up over and over.

I can’t

Not yet

I’m sorry

The letters staggered, breaking under his unsteady finger. The mist crept down, washing them away like a falling tide, but the eyes behind it remained blurred, glassed over with tears that threatened to spill under the white lashes. The guilty look on his face made Lavi’s heart fall, his composure returning in an instant. Now he felt like a fool – there was no reason to lash out like he did.

It’s all right, he backed away lamely, chewing at his lip with frustration. Must be a damn good reason.

No response, just more fidgeting.

You’ll tell me when I get you out. It will be fine then, right?

Allen nodded slowly, solemnly.

Great, Lavi scribbled, hazarding a smile that soon found a reflection in the pale face before him. Then let’s get to it!

 ***

The nights soon started to blur together, sleepless and busy, filled with fruitless tries that Lavi could no longer bother to count. Still, he didn’t mind – it was far from new to him, after all. Sleep was a low price to pay in return for the answers he yearned after, and the thrill of the unknown helped to keep him up at least until the last of the lamps gave out. Between researching the spells and his usual duties, often it wasn’t until midnight that he stumbled up to the tower, laden with books and supplies, hoping that maybe this time one of them would finally do the trick.

And though they never did, the time he spent there did not feel wasted in the least. It was always good to see Allen, to exchange smiles and ideas, to look through the books and notes in his silent company. They could barely talk, but the more they did, the less Lavi could fathom why anyone would want to curse the astrologist. His wit and charm shone through with a strength that even the magic barrier could not stop, and with every quip, every gesture, every concerned look thrown his way from the glass surface, Lavi found himself growing fonder and fonder of him.

He was no longer just a puzzle to be solved – which made solving it all the more frustrating.

Are you sure I’m not doing something wrong? He scrawled, jabbing the quill into the parchment so hard it nearly snapped. What if it’s not working because I’m messing it up?

It’s not you, Allen protested, looking at him over the remains of their last botched attempt. I’d tell you. Don’t worry.

Lavi just shook his head with a grimace and turned back to cleaning, scraping the melted wax sigils off the floor and picking up the needles placed meticulously around the circle. His hands ached, pale lines of scars rippling over his knuckles as he worked. Not all spells were kind. Mistake or failure in the magic art could often hurt the flesh and break the mind of those not careful enough in its handling. Lavi had learnt that early on, and he knew he should count himself lucky for only earning a few burns and scratches so far.

This was the last one I had for tonight, he wrote after sweeping the last of the scattered herbs up in a pile. Unless you have something else?

Allen tapped his chin pensively.

Not much. He gestured to the bowl of brine left on the floor, then up to the cupboards lining the wall. Chamomile, he instructed.

Lavi jumped to his feet, crossing the room with energy he couldn’t find just moments before. By now, he was familiar with Allen’s stash enough to locate the right ingredients immediately. Shriveled flower heads rattled in the jar as he made his way back; he could only guess how long they had been sitting on that dusty shelf – but fortunately, age meant nothing for their magic properties.

Allen didn’t waste time on writing anymore. Lavi followed his gestures closely, plucking out three big flowers and crushing them into the brine as the astrologist walked him through the steps in a graceful pantomime. It was easier this way, quicker, and over time they had gotten quite good at reading each other’s faces and hands. Allen moved like a dancer, sharp and clear, ordering him with broad, confident strokes. Sprinkle. Stir. Swipe. Carefully, Lavi dipped his hand in the bowl and smoothed it over the glass, ignoring the instant tingle that raced through his skin. The water dripped down Allen’s face, rippling and bubbling, until the last drop evaporated with a hiss and the cursed screen smoothed out again, untouched and unmoved.

The bowl clattered against the hard wood, its contents sloshing out in a dark circle as Lavi set it down on the floor. On the other side, Allen slumped to his knees with a sigh, but from the look on his face it was clear he didn’t expect much to begin with. No wonder, Lavi thought bitterly; it was nothing more than a common folk charm. They truly were starting to get desperate, resolving to this kind of thing where even proper spells had proven too weak.

Well. If they were at that point already, surely it wouldn’t hurt to try everything.

Stifling the laugh that bubbled up in him at the thought, Lavi scooted closer and gently tapped his fingers on the mirror. Allen looked up, startled, hair falling softly over his eyes as he tilted his head. Lavi barely curbed the instinct to reach and try to brush them away; for a moment, he hesitated, bracing himself for the pain to come – and then he leaned in to smooch the cursed glass right where Allen’s confused face was.

It hurt more than he expected, the barrier sparking to life with force he hadn’t felt before. Lavi sprang back at once, breaking the connection and grasping for balance in a daze. His face felt numb and the metallic bite of static on his lips tasted like ice. But all that lasted just a few heartbeats, and when he looked up again, the bolt rushed through his body once more, warmer and stronger.

Allen was laughing, holding his sides, shoulders shaking as he leaned his forehead against the glass that was still stubbornly there. The only change to the smooth surface was the wet print of Lavi’s lips over his cheek, fading slowly until no trace remained to be seen.

What— wobbly letters bloomed in its place a moment later, but the astrologist was too wrapped up in his giggling fit to finish writing, hand sliding helplessly down the mirror to clutch at his stomach.

“True love’s kiss”, Lavi explained, scraping the bitter tang of the brine off his tongue. The most basic magic, I know. Don’t look at me like this, it was worth the shot!

Already flushed from all the laughter, Allen’s cheeks coloured an even deeper crimson.

You looked… like a fish, he managed at last, wiping the tears from his eyes with the other hand.

In spite of himself, Lavi felt a smile tugging at his lips at the comment. It was not often that he’d seen Allen this cheerful in the past weeks. There was a small victory in this failed attempt after all, if it managed to make him laugh even for a short moment.

Did I, now? And what do you think you look like, flapping your mouth like that? he teased, pulling a face over the parchment as he held it up.

Not like this, came a quick answer before the sight had Allen curled up again, chuckling soundlessly into his fist.

Next time, Lavi promised himself – next time he will hear that laughter.

 ***

The sky was starting to pale on the horizon, slowly replacing the dying light of the oil lamp with the dusty glow of the dawn. To Lavi’s tired eye, it was not much of a difference. After hours of peering into the papers, he could barely see anything at all. His head was splitting, and the futility of the task wore him down and weighed on his shoulders like a stone. For how vast the palace library was, the materials he had managed to find were dwindling fast. Time passed, and all those books and attempts didn’t bring them any closer to a solution. But there was still a wealth of information he hadn’t sifted through – stashed up in the tower, scattered all around in notebooks and loose pages. Somewhere in the chaos of Allen’s notes could lie the key they were looking for.

Your handwriting is a mess, Lavi noted, setting the page he’s been studying aside and shuffling the rest for another promising trail.

Now it bugs you? Allen smirked.

Really, sometimes I can’t even tell what language it is!

There’s just one. With a shake of his head, the astrologist leaned on his elbow, eyes fixed attentively on the paper in Lavi’s hands. Lavi could almost sense his helplessness and frustration radiating through the glass. He also wished there was a way for Allen to help him sort through those notes.

Drained and disheartened, Lavi threw himself back onto the floor, resting his head on a stack of useless books. His bones and muscles protested sharply after so much time spent crouching in front of the mirror. Stretched out on the hard boards, he let his mind wander, staring at the dark ceiling high above. There were planets and clouds and constellations, painted in faded colours and flaking off with age. Among them, he could just barely make out the outline of a huge snake-like body, etched into the stone with fine golden lines. Lavi followed it absent-mindedly as it coiled all across the room, twisting among the pale pictures. Its hind legs rested against the doorframe, while the head took up most of the opposite wall, glaring at him with a big round eye from between two bookshelves. Lavi peered back at it, frowning. In the soft morning light, a part of the wall seemed to jut out just a bit, circling the dragon’s eye with a thin dark shadow. It was easy to miss at a glance, but the longer he looked, the more obvious it became.

Intrigued, Lavi heaved himself up and came closer to inspect it. His weary sight could deceive him, but when he ran his hand over the stone, he met a shallow yet distinct groove. It was just enough to slip a finger in there and pry. The tile shifted slightly and fell out – and with it a small shower of parchment rolls and loose scraps, pouring from the opening they had been crammed in.

As he bent down to collect them, Lavi felt the blood hammering in his ears. Things kept out of sight were always the most interesting; if someone had gone through the trouble to hide something, it had to be important. Smoothing out the crinkled pages, he crossed the room back to the faint circle of lamp light by the mirror. Allen followed him with tense eyes, but remained still. Did he know about this? Lavi couldn’t waste time for questions, already too engrossed in his findings to discuss them.

Most of it was numbers, equations spanning entire pages, celestial coordinates and dates from over a hundred years back. Other sheets had pictures, schemes and star diagrams he couldn’t read much from. Others yet were filled with densely packed notes. Lavi decided to look at these first, peering at the rows of messy penmanship and trying to decipher the names scribbled in tiny print on top of each page.

It didn’t take him long to realize what he had in his hands – and when he did, he nearly dropped it. Blinking in disbelief, he looked up to meet Allen’s wary gaze and reached for his quill, writing so fast he nearly ripped the parchment with the nib.

Did you make these?

Allen averted his eyes, but nodded slowly, pausing for a moment before he fogged the mirror with a deep sigh: crown counsel.

Lavi suspected as much. The names on the notes were ones he knew well – the names of princes of this land. These, then, must have been readings Allen had made as the royal advisor.

He went on, reading intently through every line of faded ink. There was a host of reasons why submitting a royal horoscope could land the author in trouble, especially in case of a matter as momentous as succession. If he was right, the answer for what happened had to be somewhere here. One by one, page after page, Lavi studied the princes’ fortunes until finally one of them caught his attention.

It was not outright bad – the astrologist had more than enough common sense, after all – but the clever meanders of his words did little to soften the picture they painted. It was a dark and brutal judgement that its recipient certainly did not appreciate. Lavi held the note up for Allen to see, quickly scrawling his question with the other hand.

Is this why you were cursed?

Allen bit his lip. The shame and regret on his face spoke more than his ghostly words could.

The third prince was not impressed with your opinion of him, was he? Lavi wrote carefully, glancing between the paper and the mirror. Did he do this?

He saw but a short nod before Allen’s face blurred behind the screen of fog: Ordered it.

That, Lavi could see. He’d read many records that painted the third prince as a violent and prideful man who held his grudges long and firm. There was no doubt that his nature made him a poor candidate for the crown – and obviously he did not care much for hearing so from the court astrologist. It was unspeakable luck that Allen was still alive when the prince wanted him disposed of.

You can go.

The fading words left Lavi puzzled. What do you mean? he wrote back and watched with a frown as Allen breathed on the mirror again and again.

I’m a traitor. So they say. That’s why – I didn’t tell you. I was scared. If you knew – you wouldn’t help. I’m sorry.

He only stopped when Lavi put his hand to the glass, covering the fog.

Calm down, Allen. I’m not going anywhere. His hasty handwriting was barely legible, but Lavi was too agitated to care. You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t deserve this. Of course I’ll get you out.

That’s treason too. Allen shot him a fearful look. It’s not safe. He’ll get you.

“He…? What?” Lavi mouthed, trying to make sense of the cryptic message – and then his heart caught in his throat as he realized what Allen had in mind and what that meant.

He won’t, he wrote slowly, carefully choosing his words. Don’t worry, I can do this. I promise you I’m not risking anything. There’s no threat for either of us anymore.

Allen bit his lip as he read, staring at the parchment for a long moment before replying with just a single word: How?

Lavi’s hand hovered over the parchment. It did not come easy, and he could only hope that Allen would find at least some relief in these shocking words.

All those people are long gone now. There’s no one here to know about this. You’ll be safe.

He watched Allen’s face fall as his eyes darted over the writing.

How long? The letters appeared slowly as if carved in stone and not vapour.

Over a century. There was no point in hiding the truth any longer – Lavi couldn’t think of anything that could soften a blow like this. What did it have to feel like, to spend decades all alone in a place without time? To suddenly learn that everything you knew was not there anymore?

Allen sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with soundless sobs, roughly, rapidly, then slower, as if there was no strength left in him anymore. When he looked up at Lavi again, his cheeks were stained with tears – but his eyes glinted with something else entirely.

It’s fine, he wrote, trailing tiny droplets after his wet finger. It’s for the better. Thank you, Lavi.

No need to thank me. Lavi shook his head with a pale smile. At least wait until we let you out.

The breath that fogged the mirror next was silent like all – but he knew it had to be a laugh.

I feel free already.

 ***

Knowledge has never weighed down on Lavi’s mind this much. Now that he finally got the answer he so craved for, he couldn’t bear the thought of it. His heart ached for Allen, a dull pain that laced his thinking with a feverish haze as he took on his research more determined than ever. A century of silent solitude was too horrible to even imagine – he couldn’t let Allen have to endure it any longer.

The corner of the page crumbled in his fingers as he turned it. Lavi winced, but quickly shook off the guilt along with the paper dust. No one would notice – no one ever read the books he was looking through. They were kept in the library merely as curiosities for display, their contents too dark and twisted to take in earnest. Miranda would probably faint from fright if she caught him now. Lavi wasn’t sure if she would panic more over him studying these scripts or ruining them. He stole a look over his shoulder just in case, but the librarian was nowhere to be seen. That was a relief; having to explain himself to her was the last thing he wanted.

But it was not Miranda that Lavi should have been concerned with.

What’s this? Allen eyed him suspiciously as he dropped his notes before the mirror a few days later.

Our last resort, Lavi wrote back after spilling the spell supplies from the sack. It took me a while to collect everything, so it’d better be worth the effort. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what will.

As he started to sort through the packets and jars, Allen craned his neck, peering upside down at the symbols meticulously copied from the dilapidated volume. With the corner of his eye, Lavi saw his frown deepen – and then he looked back up, shaking his head vehemently.

What’s wrong? Lavi turned to him with concern, quill dripping.

Don’t. Allen slashed the fog with firm strokes and pierced him with a stern, steel look.

Why? Did I miss something? Scribbling with one hand, Lavi shuffled through his notes, but Allen’s words bloomed on the glass again, stealing his attention.

It’s hard, Allen wrote quickly, the fuzzy edges of mist already nipping at the letters. Too hard. If it fails— He didn’t finish, letting the message wither away as he fixed his imploring gaze on Lavi. Please, he sighed.

It’s worth the risk, Lavi replied in harsh, thick letters smeared with a piece of coal he had grabbed to outline the spell ring. He went on to it right away, and it wasn’t until he completed the last rune when he finally looked up again.

Stop. Allen’s hand sprang into motion as soon as their eyes met. I can’t allow it.

Lavi gritted his teeth, parchment crumpling under his hand.

This is our best chance right now, he insisted, ink splattering across the page as he tossed the quill aside in his haste to continue the preparations. Three black river stones set in a line pointing North. An iron ring. A crown of sloe thorns around the edge. A pile of sparrow bones in the middle, nested on a handful of earth from the crossroads.

NO.

A loud bang from the mirror gave him a start. Allen stood with his clenched fist against the glass, the angry word fading over his heaving chest. STOP. And right after that, I mean it.

We don’t have much choice. Lavi’s quill dragged on the parchment, digging lines in the rough surface. Don’t you want to get out?

Not like this.

With a sigh, Lavi lay down the quill and inched closer to the mirror. The spell was almost ready – there was no way he would back out now. Smiling softly, he pressed his hand to the sizzling pane and breathed out, his eye never leaving Allen’s face.

It’s fine. The words hovered in the fog between them even as Allen shook his head again.

No. He didn’t bother writing anymore, the soundless protest rounding his lips over and over and over.

“It’s fine, Allen,” Lavi whispered, taking a step back and feeling blindly for the last thing he needed. His fingers clenched nervously around the wooden handle. The candlelight glided over the polished blade. In the mirror, Allen thrashed against the barrier, mouth open in a silent scream.

It took all of Lavi’s strength to tear his eye off him.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, his voice trembling as he rolled up his sleeve and put the knife to the crook of his arm. The cold steel stung so sharply that he almost didn’t feel when it broke the skin. Blood trickled down freely, thin threads of sticky warmth trailed across his body, heavy drops hit the floorboards with deep, booming thumps – or was it his pulse hammering in his ears? – or was it coming from the mirror? Lavi clenched his eye and reached out over the circle, letting the blood fall and splash on the smooth river stones.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

When he looked again, there were tears in Allen’s eyes, trickling down, trailing wet threads across his cheeks, splashing heavily at his feet. He didn’t stop for a moment to wipe them, hands red from pounding on the glass in a frantic rhythm that matched the racing of Lavi’s heart.

“It’s all right. I promise, it will be over soon.” It was hard to hold that hot glare, but Lavi did, looking dead ahead as he drew a deep breath and stepped inside the ring.

He didn’t see it until he felt it, the sudden heat lapping at his legs, the faint glow dusting the charcoal lines, growing stronger with every blink. A low flame slowly crawled around the edge of the circle, flickering gently as if taking a breath – and then roared into life, enveloping Lavi in a whirl of fire.

Allen’s terrified face vanished behind the red veil. Lavi choked on the heated air, his throat and chest burning with each gasp. He held his breath, barely keeping himself from crying out. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Something went wrong, again, but this time he was not dealing with benign magic that forgave mistakes easily. Panic rose in his stomach as he watched the flames dancing round and round, licking his arms and swallowing the papers laying on the floor. He had to stop it.

His body moved as if on its own. Before he could think, Lavi braced himself and leaped.

Every inch of his flesh screamed as he flew through the wall of fire. Out of the raging blaze, the cooler air hit his skin like a thousand of needles. Lavi rolled on the ground and scrambled to his feet, looking around in a daze. There. He reached over the clutter and grabbed the torn curtain jumbled on the floor under the window. The thick fabric smoked and charred when he threw it to smother the flames, covering the burnt ring like a burial shroud.

Lavi stared at it, chest heaving as he fought to force his breath through his clenched throat. Through the thinning smoke, he saw Allen pressed up against the mirror, face frozen in a mask of terror and pain. Lavi was before him in a heartbeat, falling to his knees in the ashes of notes and books he couldn’t care less for now.

Lavi. He recognized his name on the pale lips, cried out time after time, lingering on the glass in a mist that ebbed before Allen could put his trembling finger to it.

“I’m here,” Lavi whispered, leaning his forehead against the cold, soothing pane even if just for a moment. “It’s all right, Allen, I’m here, everything is fine.”

It’s not fine, the tearful glare told him. Allen jabbed his finger at the mirror, scribbling frantically, scratching it off and trying again, struggling against the shrinking fog and his shivering body.

“Shhh. Calm down.” Lavi reached up to his face as if he could touch him through the glass and wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. There was nothing he wanted more. Allen’s face was soft and shining in the moonlight, the damp trails on his skin glowing silver. He looked like a porcelain figure – white and delicate and ready to shatter any moment.

Gingerly, Lavi leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead, the charged aura of the barrier tingling between his lips.

It stung. It stung and pricked and hurt, but as Lavi pulled away, he realized it was not the curse biting at his skin. The smooth surface split under his touch, distorting Allen’s shocked features with a jagged line. The crack spread like a spiderweb, tiny specks of glass flew into his face and Lavi barely managed to close his eye and turn away before the entire mirror shattered.

The next moment, there were arms wrapped tight around him, a warm weight in his lap, a wet face pressed into his neck.

Lavi blinked the crystal dust away, gaping in disbelief at the empty jade frame and the boy in his arms, so close and so real. He held him fast, fingers clenched into his shirt, burying his nose in the white hair. Allen’s breath crashed against his skin in a hot wave, and when he finally pulled away, Lavi suddenly felt cold like never before.

It was obvious now – and it should have been obvious to him long ago already. How come he had not seen before how much his feelings had grown over all those sleepless nights and silent conversations?

“Allen…” Lavi stammered, bewilderment clutching his throat. “That was… I think I—“

Gray eyes looked up at him, wide and red-rimmed under the tousled bangs. Lavi reached up to brush it away and let his hand linger, gently tracing the curve of the pale cheek, fingertips ghosting over the corner of the lips. Allen smiled into the touch, cupping Lavi’s hand in his own to hold it there.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and laughed, and his voice rang like silver and glass through the night.