#everyone else thinks it's spring except the trees apparently

[andnowanowl]

The sandhill cranes are back, the Canada geese are back, the boreal chorus frogs were singing tonight, but the horned owls haven't come back. Maybe they only like it here around the house when the trees have leaves on them.

[kingofsummer93]

On Waves of Blue

My gift to @labellefleur-sauvage for @acotargiftexchange!

Summary:

Elain is bored of her mind-numbingly dull life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom. The only excitement she's ever known is the threat of the great fire-breathing King Koopa, intent on making her his bride.

Is it so wrong, then, that she doesn't fear his return?

Rating: E

Word Count: 24K

Read it on Ao3

Elain took a deep breath of cool fresh air, tinged with the sharp, bright scent of spring blooms. She paused on her walk up the hill and lowered her pink parasol to tilt her face up to the sun. It was a warm, lovely day, with only a smattering of puffy white clouds strolling lazily across the sky.

But then, it was always a warm, lovely day in Toad Town.

Elain did not have any reason to be resentful about that, and so she pretended like she wasn’t. People would murder, steal, and do a number of other unspeakable things in order to be where she was. People did murder, steal, and do other unspeakable things, and it was her duty to protect the peace of her little corner of the world.

She had no right to be (just a little bit) resentful that it never rained, that the wind never picked up enough to ruffle her hair, that it never got chilly, or uncomfortably hot, or that it didn’t snow. So what if it didn’t snow at Mushroom Castle? So what if there was a whole world up north where apparently it was snowy year-round, and Elain had never seen it, and likely never would? That was nobody’s problem except for hers.

It was just that sometimes, sometimes she would look out at the rolling hills surrounding her castle, the grass so vibrantly green it almost looked fake, everyone so happy and smiling, and she almost, almost wished she were somewhere else.

Somewhere new. Somewhere different and interesting.

There was nothing interesting about the grounds of Mushroom Castle. Only the same hills she had run up and down since she was a girl, the same perfectly proportioned trees she had been shading herself under all her life, and that maddening, perfectly harmless sun.

Elain wanted to know what it was like to have the sun feel so hot that it burned. She wanted to burn and then dip into a pool of cool water and hiss at the sharp contrast. She wanted to step outside into a frigid landscape and then come inside and sigh as the heat of a fireplace warmed her frozen fingers.

But this was where she belonged, in her castle, as the fair-headed, level-tempered monarch of her people, and so that would be where she remained.

A few toads scurried by, sending her wide-eyed, worried glances as they passed “Princess Elain, are you alright?”

Indeed she must have looked quite the sight, standing there looking miserably up into the sun. Elain lifted her parasol and smiled warmly at the toads. “Quite alright. Just out for a little stroll.”

The toads smiled broadly and then were on their way, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Elain continued up the hill, until she was high enough that she had an unobstructed view of her land.

It was beautiful, really. A lush, green landscape dotted with gently rolling hills, a lazily curving river, and in the center- Mushroom Castle. The afternoon sunshine reflected off the pristine white stone so brightly it almost hurt to look at it. Towers and turrets rose towards the sky, narrowing into spires topped with red flags that gently swung in the gentle breeze. The drawbridge was down, the moat as quiet and still as a reflecting pool. In her mind she could picture the bright, sunny interior, the walls dotted with paintings she knew so well she could probably have recreated them with her eyes closed.

Beautiful, serene, peaceful. And completely, utterly dull.

It was wrong, so wrong, but in that moment Elain couldn’t help but look toward the sky. She strained her ears, thinking that maybe that sound she heard was the menacing rumble of those propellers. Maybe that shadow she saw in the distance was not caused by a cloud, but by that warship, captained by that monster who was so intent on making her his bride.

It terrified her, the thought that he would always come back for her. Always, time and time again, he would come back. Nothing could distract him, nothing could convince him to stay away.

And yet- and yet, was it wrong, that when she was aboard that flying ship, she leaned over the railing and marveled wide-eyed at the scenery below her? They only ever flew south, so she had never seen the snow kingdom, but she had seen deserts with sand-covered towns and tropical islands with beaches as white as fresh paper. It took her breath away every time. Just one glimpse was enough to fuel her dreams for months. The world was so large, and she had seen so little of it.

But the return of King Koopa also meant war, destruction, and unnecessary distress for her subjects. And so of course Elain didn’t wish for that cloud in the distance to pass, and reveal the terrifying outline of fluttering sails and canons ready to fire.

No, of course she didn’t wish that.

-

“Silence!” Lucien boomed. The soldiers in front of him fell silent immediately. “What did you just say?”

The soldier quivered slightly, in equal parts fright and excitement. “The plumber, your highness. He’s been spotted vacationing with his brother on Isle Delfino.”

Lucien snarled, smoke escaping his nostrils as a wave of dislike coursed through him. Just the thought of that plumber was enough to agitate the flame that heated his veins.

“And they did not take the princess with them?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer, even as a plan started forming in his mind.

“No, Sir. They never do. The princess’s place is in her castle.”

The princess’s place is by my side, Lucien thought automatically. She had been his since the first moment they laid eyes on each other.

He could still remember it, the first time he had seen her. Elain. So beautiful, so delicate- and so, so afraid of him. The first time he had kidnapped her she had cried the entire time. Lucien did not like the tears. They squeezed at his heart like a vice, enough so that he hadn’t put up that much of a fight when the plumber and his acolytes had come to rescue her.

The second time she had cried again, though less desperately than the first time. She had seemed almost defeated, as if she had expected this to happen.

Over time though, as she learned that he truly did not mean to harm her, her fear for him had faded, as had the tears. She tried to act like he still scared her, but Lucien knew the truth. He saw the way she leaned over the railing of his ship and gazed out at the landscape below, her beautiful brown eyes glittering with fascination.

Her soul called out to his. She was trapped, a lost soul, a dreamer. Lucien could tell, because he was trapped, too. Trapped in a land he hated, in a position he never asked for.

They could run away. He would show her the world. Far, far away from that meddlesome plumber who was too foolish to see what was directly in front of him. Lucien would never leave her behind to play the pretty princess as he went off on adventures. He would take her anywhere she wanted.

If only she would accept to be his bride.

“Prepare the ship,” Lucien declared. We fly in an hour.”

Isle Delfino was a few days’ flight from Mushroom Castle. A week or more on foot. He could be in and out before word even got further than Toad Town, and they would be long gone before the blasted plumber even heard the news.

His soldiers snickered darkly and squealed in delight at the prospect. Sometimes they irritated Lucien so much that he was afraid he might incinerate them all in a bout of annoyance.

He left them to their giddy preparations and walked out the throne room to the balcony that overlooked his lands.

Koopa Kingdom had once been as beautiful as Mushroom Kingdom, if not even more so. Lucien could remember running through dense forests as a child, climbing trees that were so wide and ancient they were almost sacred. He remembered his eldest brother teaching him how to fish with his bare hands in the merry rivers that used to wound their way around their lands, but had long since dried up. The volcano that now continuously spat its fury into the sky had been dormant in his youth, a harmless mountain that he had climbed time and time again.

That glorious kingdom was now no more than a miserable, god-forsaken corner of the world. Burned to the ground with the combined wrath of the volcano and his siblings’ desperate rivalry. In the end they had all perished, leaving only Lucien to pick up the pieces.

Now it was him that they feared, as they had all once feared his father and his brothers. It was useless to try to convince them all that he was different than them, that he did not wish for them to fear him. But how to explain, when he looked like them, and talked like them, and lived in the castle they had once ruled? It was useless, and so Lucien let them make up their own minds about him.

It was easier this way.

-

It usually came and went, the restlessness, as Elain called it. More pressing matters would come up- town folks would come to her with problems needing solving, or her friends would return from their travels bursting at the seams to regale her with their tales.

But that night there was nothing but Elain and her thoughts. She wandered the quiet halls of her castle, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the large windows. The only sound other than her own breathing was the swish of her skirts along the stone floors.

Elain walked from room to room, admiring the paintings and the strange, foreign worlds they depicted. A sunken ship, surrounded by terrifying underwater creatures. A world filled with giants. A winter landscape with jolly, smiling snowmen. She reached out and touched the snow, wishing there existed some kind of magic that would make it possible for her to fall into the painting and inhabit that world, even if it was only for a little while.

She was still staring at the snowy landscape when she heard the rumbling in the distance. Still faint, but close enough that she could feel the vibration of it through the floor. Her breath caught in her throat. It was him. King Koopa, come to take her away again. A little thrill went through her. Fear, yes, but mostly something else. Excitement, heady and addicting. Elain didn’t let herself focus on that as she hurried through the castle towards the throne room.

Her faithful toads were already gathered around the closed double doors, frantic and panicky. Bless them- she loved them dearly, but they were not fighters. The only fighters she knew were far away, on Isle Delfino. Elain had wanted to go with them but of course she could not. She tried not to resent her friends for that but it was hard not to, when she was the one carrying the heavy burden of ruling, while they went off and had the adventures she so desperately wanted.

It was also difficult not to resent them when they were exploring distant shores and she was left to fend for herself as her lands were invaded by the enemy.

Was he still the enemy, though, if she did not resist?

A heavy thud sounded in the distance, the impact making the windows rattle in their frames. Elain could hear shouts in the distance, followed by jeers and laughter. A burst of flame from outside the windows illuminated the throne room with warm light. Elain knew that flame. She was drawn to it, despite herself. It was as inexplicable as the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him, despite the fact that all reason said she definitely should be.

“Princess Elain! What are you doing? Please, go back to your chambers!”

Elain ignored the pleas of her faithful servants and descended the steps from the dais towards the wide double doors. The king would take her whether she wanted to go or not. It was easier for everyone if she went easily. At least, that’s what she told herself.

The first impact on the doors sent the toads screaming in fright. But Elain held her ground, standing proud and unafraid. She would not be seen cowering inside her own home. Especially because if she had her way, this would be the last time. She was not planning on coming back to her mind-numbingly dull life at Mushroom Castle. She would find a way to escape, on her own this time, and then she would be free to travel the world as she pleased.

Another teeth-rattling bang against the doors. It would be easier to open them than to let him break them down, really, but that might have been taking things a step too far. She didn’t need him to know that she wasn’t afraid of him, after all. It made Elain feel powerful to know that she could fool him this way. There was an element of danger in admitting to him that she was not afraid. It might cause him to change his ways, and become as wicked and cruel as people feared him to be.

Another hit, and another, until finally the wood cracked and then splintered. A hand appeared through the cracks, scaled fingers ending in menacing claws ripping and clawing at the wood until the doors were no more than a pile of sticks on the ground. And then there he was, with nothing but air protecting her from him. The giant, reptilian form of King Koopa.

He was so tall that he had to stoop slightly to fit through the door, and so broad that his frame almost blocked out any moonlight from filtering in through the gap in the wall. His muscular limbs were covered in thick yellow-gold scales, his fingers and toes tipped with those sharp claws. His back was covered by an emerald green shell dotted with spikes, the same spikes that lined his tapered tail. On his head curved two menacing horns, and in between those horns, a shock of ruby-red hair.

He laughed then, his usual low, rumbling laugh. Elain heard a few whimpers behind her, but she only clasped her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes. This was the game they played. She had her role, and he had his.

His footsteps echoed around the silent throne room. Elain didn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he approached her. And then one of those clawed fingers was gently tilting her chin up so she was forced to look at him.

His fiery russet eyes were fixed on hers, his mouth curved into his trademark evil grin.

“Well, well, well,” he crooned. “Look what we have here.”

His cronies snickered behind him, swinging their weapons around menacingly. Elain forced herself to meet that fiery gaze.

“Where are your friends?” the King continued.

“Away,” Elain said simply. She tried to keep her expression neutral but a frown betrayed her.

He laughed again, but it sounded different this time. Less menacing and wild, almost…bitter. Elain didn’t know what to make of that, so she stood there and held his gaze.

“Please don’t take me, Your Highness,” she whispered, widening her eyes for good measure.

This was part of their game. As soon as the words left her lips his russet eyes flickered with flame, and Elain’s breath caught in her throat. It was wrong, so wrong, that she wasn’t afraid. That she wanted to reach out a hand towards him and feel his skin, just to see if she could feel that flame that coursed through his veins…

“I’ll make you my bride this time, Princess.”

His words sent a little shiver through her. On the surface they sounded menacing, but she knew the threat was empty. She’d figured that out a long time ago.

“And if I refuse?” she countered.

Her tone might have been slightly more petulant than she had planned, and she momentarily froze. But then that flame in his eyes intensified, and his wicked grin widened.

“Oh, you won’t Princess. Not this time.”

With that he swept her up into his arms and walked out of the castle. Her toads were crying and pleading with him for mercy, but he only laughed and shooed them out of his way.

He carried her all the way onto ship, and when he set her down he did it gently, carefully. The soldiers were climbing aboard behind their King, and then they were off, rising up into the night sky.

-

There was something different about her tonight. Lucien couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but it was enough to dim his usual bravado.

“Please don’t take me, your highness.”

Was it his runaway imagination, or had her lips quirked into the barest of smirks as she said those words? No- surely not. That was his idiotic mind being affected by her presence, as always.

She was leaning over the side of the ship as she always did when they flew, her golden-brown curls whipping in the wind as she gazed out at the scenery below them. After a few minutes she leaned back and gazed at the floor sadly.

“Can I go below deck?”

Lucien blinked in surprise. He was so taken aback by this request that he forgot to sound menacing when he spoke. “But you always like to stay above deck to look at the view.”

The princess fixed him with a steely look. His unspoken subtext shone in those eyes like an accusation. You mean, every other time you’ve kidnapped me?

But Lucien couldn’t feel bad about it. They were meant to be together. She would see, someday. She would realize that his methods, while dubious, had been necessary to bring them together.

“It’s night,” she said simply. “I can’t see anything.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped. Idiot. You’re so fucking stupid, why did you come at night. She likes to look at the view and you came at night because you were too eager to see her.

He glanced around them quickly to make sure they were alone. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t think of that.”

It was Elain’s turn to blink in surprise. “Are you apologizing for kidnapping me at night instead of during the day?”

Lucien chuckled. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Elain was quiet for a moment as she contemplated him. “Why are you only nice when nobody else is around?”

Something twisted in Lucien’s gut again. He had a feeling that maybe Elain understood him better than he understood himself, and there was something dangerously thrilling about that.

“Why do you pretend to be afraid of me when we both know you’re not?” he countered.

Another quirk of those lips. How Lucien longed to kiss those lips. How he longed for her to want to kiss him. But why would she? He was a giant, fire-breathing turtle.

Do you see me? Do you see that I’m not what the world thinks I am?

“Why wouldn’t I be afraid of you? You’re a monster intent on making me his bride against my will.”

Monster. Monster. Monster. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know, but it hurt nonetheless. But why would she think of him as anything else when he had never shown her the truth?

“That’s where you’re wrong, princess. I don’t intend to make you do anything against your will.”

He would show her, he decided. Once they arrived at Koopa Kingdom, he would show her the truth about who he was.

“So if I asked you to bring me home you would do it?” Her eyes were wide, her head quirked. The portrait of innocence- had it not been for that defiance flashing in those eyes.

“Is home really where you’d like to go?”

Her lips clamped shut.

Lucien laughed again. “Tell me where you’d like to go, and maybe I’ll take you there.”

She seemed to hesitate for a second, but then she crossed her arms defiantly and remained silent, those blazing eyes fixed on his.

“Very well,” Lucien said, inclining his head in a mock bow. “If you change your mind just let me know. You’ll never know what my answer might be until you ask.”

-

Castle Koopa was dark and uninviting, with walls made of crude stone and torches that sent long, spooky shadows along the corridors. There were damp dungeons and abandoned towers and a throne room empty of any furniture save for a single throne on a raised dais.

When they arrived Elain wordlessly followed the King’s cronies to the chambers where she was always kept. Although, was it fair to say she was “being kept” when there was no lock on the door?

Her chambers were not in the dungeons, as her friends believed, but in one of the highest towers. It was a circular room, with tall windows that let in plenty of sun. There was a bookshelf filled with books, plush carpeting, and a large four-poster bed with lush bedding. The attached bathing chamber was just as opulent, with gold fixtures and a variety of scented toiletries at her disposal.

The view, however, was admittedly not as pleasant as the interior. The lands of Koopa Kingdom were barren and stark, with lazily flowing rivers of lava that ran down the sides of the volcano and onto what had once been a lush, abundant kingdom.

Escaping on foot was pure folly. The bridges that arched over the lava flows were old and crumbly, and one wrong step could send her toppling to her death. Elain was not so desperate that she would readily risk her life. She would have to go about it a different way.

Her strange conversation with the King had given her an idea. If she played her part well enough, would he agree to take her somewhere else? Perhaps she could cry and beg. She knew he hated that. That first time he had kidnapped her she had cried the entire time and she had felt his discomfort like it was a physical thing.

He knew she liked to look out at the view as they flew, had even apologized for taking her at night. Perhaps she could simply request that he take her somewhere else on the basis of satisfying her curiosity.

And then, when they got there, she could escape.

The next morning Elain made her way down to the dining hall, where she always ate her meals. As she walked through the castle she encountered many of the King’s cronies, but nobody escorted her or checked her comings and goings. After all, where could she go?

Elain usually ate alone, with only a guard at the door to keep her company, but sometimes the King would join her. On the few occasions she had asked him about it he gruffly claimed to be busy, but Elain sometimes got the feeling that he gave her space on purpose. She didn’t quite know what to make of that.

She was hoping that he would be there today, so she could lay the groundwork for her plan. She’d start by wistfully mentioning her friends’ most recent ill-planned trip, and then she’d mention how much she enjoyed flying over all those wondrous territories that she had never seen on foot. If she played the part convincingly enough he might even offer before she even had to ask.

As she walked through the doors into the dining room she gasped and stopped in her tracks. The King was not at the table, but there was someone sitting at the head of the table in his usual spot. A man. This fact alone would have startled her- she had never seen another human anywhere near Castle Koopa. He stood as Elain walked in and she realized on second glance that he wasn’t quite a man, but not quite a Koopaling either. She had never seen anybody like him.

He was beautiful, with elegant, sharp features that made her breath catch in her throat. She guessed that he must be related to the King somehow, because he sported the same long, curved horns on top of his head, those same russet eyes, and the mane of silky hair that tumbled past his shoulders was a very familiar shade of ruby-red.

Even more distracting, though, was the fact that he was bare chested. His golden skin seemed to glow in the light of the lit torches, and it was an effort not to gawk at his strong chest and rippled stomach.

“Good morning,” he greeted, inclining his head in a bow.

The sound of his voice sent a little shiver through her. He had a deep, rich voice, not gravelly and rough like the King’s, but smooth and warm.

“Who are you?” she squeaked.

The man smirked slightly, and Elain flushed in horror. She was forgetting herself. She might not be afraid of the King but she did not know this man. He might very well be somebody she should be afraid of.

She dipped into a quick curtsey, and the man laughed softly. “There’s no need for all that,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “Please, sit.”

As he turned towards his seat Elain realized why he had chosen not to wear a shirt. His back was covered with thick, emerald green plates, something halfway between armor and the shell that covered the King’s back.

Elain walked towards her usual seat at the other end of the table on slightly unsteady legs. She was so taken aback that for a few minutes she only sat and stared at him. The man seemed perfectly fine with this arrangement, and he continued his breakfast in silence with a little smile on his lips.

When Elain eventually roused herself out of her trance she realized he had not answered her. It seemed rude to ask again, so she tried another tactic. “I haven’t seen you here before,” she said hesitantly.

Another flash of amusement in those russet eyes, but still he said nothing. Not confirming nor denying.

“Are you not hungry?” he asked, nodding his head to the loaded dishes in front of her.

Elain reached for the nearest dish with shaky fingers, dumping fruits, cheese, and pastries on her plate. She forked a tiny piece of melon and chewed slowly, hyper aware of the man’s eyes fixated on her.

When she looked back at him he was still smiling that coy smile. “Where is the King?” she asked timidly. Had her friends found her so soon? Was the King already out there, battling them?

“Don’t worry about him,” the man quickly replied.

Elain was getting a little irritated with his answers that weren’t really answers, but she remembered her manners and forced herself to remain polite.

“Are you related?” She figured this was a fair enough question to ask.

The man’s expression became carefully guarded. “You could say that,” he answered carefully.

“What’s your name?”

His lips twitched back into a smile. “You’re chatty today.”

Elain flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she muttered. And then his wording made her frown. “What do you mean I’m chatty today?”

The man winced slightly, though he tried to play it off by taking a sip of tea. “Just a figure of speech,” he said casually.

The silence stretched on awkwardly. Elain picked at her food, glancing up at the man across the table every few seconds. She was burning with curiosity about him, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

After a few minutes of tense silence he cleared his throat and Elain jumped slightly. “Lucien. My name is Lucien.”

Elain smiled at his admission. Perhaps if she kept him talking she could find out where the king had gone and when he’d be back. “Nice to meet you, Lucien. I’m Elain.”

“Elain?” he asked curiously. “Not Princess Elain?” He seemed amused at her expense again. His eyes flicked to the top of her head. “Where is your crown?”

Elain shrugged primly. “I don’t see a need for it here. I am no princess in these lands.”

In truth she relished the opportunity to not wear that crown, heavy both physically and in burden.

Lucien was looking at her closely, as if he was trying to look directly into her soul. It unnerved her- it was almost like he knew more about her then he was letting on.

“What is your purpose here?” she asked, if only to get him to stop peering at her like that.

Lucien stared at her for so long, with such an unreadable expression on his face, that she worried she might have pried too far. But then his eyes turned sad, and he seemed to slump a little.

“You could say I am a prisoner here, too,” he said softly.

Elain gaped at him. “The King is holding you captive here as well?”

Lucien waved his hand vaguely. “In a way, yes.”

Elain had never seen or heard of another human prisoner in this castle in the multiple times she’d been here. Could there be others, in hidden corners of the castle? Perhaps if there were, they could help each other escape. She was no fighter, any ally she could get would be welcome. And by the looks of Lucien he most certainly knew how to fight…

Her heart was racing with excitement at this new prospect. She was just about to ask if there were others when the sound of approaching voices sent Lucien jumping out of his seat in alarm.

“I must go,” he murmured, glancing at her with what looked like regret.

Elain couldn’t understand his reaction. Was he not allowed to walk freely around the castle, as she was? Perhaps that would explain why she had never seen him before.

“Wait!”

Lucien’s eyes widened slightly at the urgency in her tone. She didn’t want him to go. Having someone to talk to who wasn’t the King or his hateful cronies had been so welcome, even with his half answers.

“Will I see you again?” she asked shyly. “I can come to you, if it’s safer, I’m allowed to walk around as I please…”

Lucien smiled, and Elain’s breath caught in her throat again. “I’ll find you, Elain. Don’t worry.”

Before she could say anything else he had hurried out of the room, and she was alone once more.

-

Lucien hesitated in front of the closed door that led to Elain’s chambers. He normally never sought her out in her rooms, aware that she would consider it an invasion of privacy. Perhaps it was just his way of making himself feel better about kidnapping her and holding her hostage against her will, but it brought him a small measure of peace to know that she could at least feel safe within the confines of her rooms.

But tonight he couldn’t help it. That look on her face as she had spotted him in the dining hall was forever burned in his memory. He knew it wasn’t his own vanity that made him imagine the heat that had flared in her beautiful eyes as she took in his appearance. The sight of her lips falling open as her eyes snagged on his bare torso had been worth the risk.

Continuing the secrecy surrounding his true form was the only tradition started by his father that he actually respected. He could admit that there was some sense to it. As a giant, fire-breathing reptile he was practically invincible, at least in terms of brute strength. Even his underbelly was protected by thick scales, and nothing could stand in the way of his fire. But as a human, he was vulnerable. His skin was no longer a built-in armor but just that- skin. Warm and soft and utterly pierceable. He still had his flame, but it wasn’t quite the same. If his cronies found out they could easily rebel against him, especially now that his father and brothers were long gone and it was just him. If they ganged up on him in his human form there would be nothing but his flame to protect him from having a spear thrown into his heart.

So he kept up the pretense. Still, the urge to show Elain his true self had plagued him since the first time he’d seen her. It had been pure folly, to show himself to her, but somehow he trusted that she wouldn’t tell anyone. He simply needed her to know- he needed her to look at his human form and know that if she placed her hands on him he would feel as human and breakable as she did. If she only looked at him from the front she might even forget that he wasn’t completely human. There was nothing he could do about the horns on his head, so he could only hope she wasn’t completely repulsed by them.

Lucien hesitated for another minute before knocking on her door gently. There was a soft intake of breath from the other side of the door, and then silence. He couldn’t blame her for being alarmed.

“Elain?” he called softly through the door. “It’s me. Lucien.”

Another gasp, and then the muffled sound of feet pattering as she hurried towards the door. It opened a crack, and then she appeared, peering at him timidly. Lucien’s heart quickened as he realized she was wearing a nightgown. But then, what had he expected? He forced himself to keep his gaze on her face and no further south.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

Unlike him she apparently had no qualms about ogling him, and Lucien’s heart rate increased as he noticed her gaze immediately dipped to his chest. He’d worn a shirt tonight, in an attempt to make her less intimidated by his presence in her chambers. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression and become afraid of him, but suddenly he hated the garment with a burning passion, and not just because it was itching against the plates of armor on his back.

Elain quickly glanced around the deserted corridor. “How did you…is it safe for you to be here?”

It wasn’t, but not for the reasons she assumed.

“I wanted to apologize for running away so abruptly earlier,” he replied, dodging the question. “Sorry to bother you so late.”

He didn’t quite know how to ask her if he could come in without sounding like a predator, but then Elain smiled and opened the door wider.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “You’re not bothering me. Do you want to come in?”

Lucien dipped his chin in thanks and stepped into her room. He couldn’t help but watch her as she walked to her wardrobe and wrapped a robe around herself, her cheeks stained a rosy pink. She turned to face him and suddenly Lucien was at a loss for what to say. Truthfully he hadn’t really planned this visit beyond his desire to see her. He was scrambling to come up with an excuse for being there, but Elain beat him to it.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started excitedly, “about how we can escape.”

That was not what he had expected her to say, and for a moment Lucien could only blink at her stupidly. “About how we can…what?”

“Escape!” Elain repeated. Her brown eyes were twinkling with excitement. “I’ve been coming up with a plan. I was going to do it myself but obviously it will be much better to have someone who can fight…”

Bitter disappointment twisted in Lucien’s gut. Why was he surprised? Of course she wanted to escape, why had he thought otherwise? Why had he assumed that just because she wasn’t outwardly repulsed by his true form, it must mean she would want to stay?

She mistook his silence for confusion, and her blush deepened. “I mean, I just assumed you know how to fight, judging by how…I mean…it’s ok if you don't…”

Lucien was aware that she was complimenting him without meaning to, and he couldn’t help but puff up his chest slightly. “I know how to fight,” he said quickly.

Her eyes brightened. “I knew you would!”

“So…” He must tread carefully here. “You were planning to escape? Back to Toad Town? Why not wait for your friends to come to your help?”

To his knowledge she had never attempted to escape on her own before. It was such a departure from her usual behavior that Lucien couldn’t make sense of it. Especially as her eyes flashed with irritation and she lifted her chin proudly.

“I’m tired of waiting for men to rescue me,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly. She was so much shorter than him but somehow in that moment she seemed to look down at him. Why did he like that so much?

“Besides,” she continued, “I’m not looking to go back home.”

Lucien’s heart rate picked up again. It was so loud in his ears that he wouldn’t have been surprised if she could hear it.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked carefully.

Her face turned towards the window, and the longing in her eyes made his heart clench. I will take you anywhere, he promised silently. Just tell me where you’d like to go.

“Everywhere,” she said simply. “I want to see it all. Did you know there’s a territory to the north completely covered in snow and ice?” She perked up visibly again, and Lucien chuckled even as his heart continued to race.

This was what he’d been waiting for. A sign, a hint, something to indicate that he had been right in assuming that her quiet life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom was not what she truly desired.

“Will you help me?” She looked so hopeful, those brown eyes so wide and lovely, that Lucien felt the urge to fall to his knees and declare that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Saying no to that face was not a possibility, consequences be damned.

“Yes,” he blurted. “I will help you.”

The smile this earned him was more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen in his life.

“Do you know if there are others? We can take them with us!”

Lucien frowned in confusion. “Others?”

“Other prisoners!”

Right- she believed him a prisoner. He felt a twinge of guilt at that. But then again, what other choice did he have? He couldn’t reveal his identity to her yet. Not until she trusted him completely. And not until they were far, far away from this place.

“I don’t believe so, no…” he said vaguely.

“That’s probably for the best,” she replied, nodding seriously. “A bigger group would be more noticeable.”

Something occurred to Lucien then. That she was asking about other prisoners meant she believed him capable of such a thing. But, once again, why wouldn’t she? Had he not kidnapped her, time and time again?

“I’ll need a few days to prepare the ship,” he said, speaking as much to himself as he was to her. It would take a matter of hours if he asked his soldiers to do it, but of course he couldn’t reveal what he was really planning. He would have to be careful to avoid detection.

Elain’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and then she smiled in delight. “You want to steal the King’s ship?”

Lucien shuffled uncomfortably. “Um…I guess so. Yes. That’s the best way, we can’t escape on foot without being detected.”

“You can fly it?”

It was an effort not to laugh at that. His eldest brother had taught him how to fly the ship when he’d been eight years old.

“Yes.” Too confident. “I mean, I think so…”

“Excellent! We should do it at night, when the King and his soldiers are sleeping. That way we’ll be long gone by the time they even realize we’re gone.”

It hurt, the knowledge that she would leave him without a second thought, without saying goodbye. Hadn’t she grown to tolerate his presence? Or had that been an act? A coping mechanism, perhaps, to lull him into thinking she had become submissive?

And yet, she was trusting him now, wasn’t she? He could find comfort in that.

“You should gather anything you think you’ll need.” As he said it he realized that anything she would be taking would be something he had provided for her. She had no personal effects here except for the pink dress with the blue pin she had been wearing upon her arrival. “I’ll pack some cloaks as well.”

She looked at him in confusion at that.

“We’ll need them if you want to go north,” he clarified. “That is where you want to go, right?”

Elain stared at him for so long that a new, horrible thought occurred to him. Of course she didn’t want to go north with him. She wanted his help to escape, but after that she would want to be rid of him, and he’d be no better off than he was now…

“You would take me there?” she asked, her voice small.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Lucien replied, perhaps a tad more forcefully than he had meant to. “If you want me to.”

She held his gaze, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Say yes.

“Why would you do that for me?” she asked, still in that same quiet, timid voice.

I would do anything for you.

“It’s like I told you…I’m trapped here, too.”

Her eyes became sad, and he felt wretched. She reached out and took his hands in hers, squeezing gently, and that little touch made his blood heat a few degrees. Her skin was so soft. It made him feel like a beast, a monstrosity with scales and spikes and horns.

“I think we were meant to find each other,” she whispered. “So we could escape together.”

Lucien squeezed back. “Yes,” he agreed. “I think so, too.”

-

Elain didn’t see Lucien for days afterwards. He wasn’t in the dining hall when she went for meals, and he never came to seek her out in her chambers. She tried not to become worried, reasoning that he must be trying to keep a low profile in light of their impending escape.

Still, she couldn’t help the scenarios of increasing doom that took residence in her mind. Perhaps the King had caught him, and was punishing him? Perhaps Lucien was being tortured, and he would be forced to admit that he had been helping her. Or perhaps he had simply changed his mind. Somehow she thought that would be the most devastating of all the scenarios.

Elain was walking towards the dining hall, trying to convince herself that he wouldn’t be there in order to keep the disappointment at bay, when the sound of voices sent her heart soaring. She quickened her pace and practically skipped into the dining hall, and then she stopped short.

It was not Lucien sitting at the table, but King Koopa himself, surrounded by three of his soldiers. Elain tried to hide her crushing disappointment as she slowly approached the table. She had been thinking about Lucien so much that she had almost forgotten about the King completely.

The soldiers fell silent as she sat down at the table and served herself. The King looked unusually tense, and something about that filled Elain with dread.

“Have you been away?” she asked, not meeting that fiery gaze. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve arrived.”

Someone scoffed, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw one of the soldiers look at the King incredulously.

“Are you not going to punish her, Your Highness?” one of the cronies asked viciously. “Because I’d be happy to do it for you…”

Elain dropped her fork with a clang. That soldier always looked at her for too long, his gaze lascivious and leering. They were all ordered not to touch her, of course, but if he was given permission to punish her she had no doubt what his preferred method would be.

It wasn’t herself she was worried about in that moment, however. If they were speaking of punishing her then that had to mean that Lucien had been caught, and that’d he admitted what they were planning to do. What had they done to him?

The King snarled then, little wisps of smoke escaping his nostrils. “It is you who will be punished if you don’t show some respect.”

The soldier backed away and dipped his head respectfully. “Of course, yes, of course, I only meant to say…”

“Quiet!” the King ordered. The stuttering soldier fell silent at once.

“Punish me for what?” Elain asked in a small voice. “I’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve just been in my chambers the whole time…” It wasn’t a lie.

The King surveyed her carefully for a few moments. “My soldiers have just informed me that things have been going missing from the supply closets.”

Elain’s heart skipped a beat. Lucien had been stealing things in preparation for their escape. She swallowed thickly and prayed that she looked innocent. “What sorts of things?”

“Food,” the King answered. “Weapons.”

Weapons. Of course they would need those but Elain didn’t like to think about that.

“And…and why would I want to steal food and weapons, when I am well fed and have no idea how to fight?”

She knew that the King knew this, and that it was the reason she wasn’t already being punished.

“But who else could it be, Princess?” the leering soldier pressed.

The King snarled again, and this time a rumble shook through the floor of the dining hall. “Get out,” he demanded, glaring at his cronies. His voice was low and menacing and the soldiers almost tripped over themselves as they excited the dining hall, not needing to be told twice.

Once they were alone Elain dared to look up at the King. His expression was as unreadable as ever.

“I know you didn’t take those things,” he said. “You don’t need to worry.”

She was worried. If he knew she hadn’t done it then surely he knew who had, especially since she now knew there were no other prisoners other than her and Lucien. It might have been folly, to admit that she knew about him, but she had to know. Otherwise she would keep hoping for him to show up, when he probably never would.

“What did you do to him?” she asked quietly.

The King frowned slightly. “What did I do to who?”

“Lucien.” Her voice was so quiet it was barely above a whisper.

The King’s eyes widened slightly, and his head swiveled wildly, as if he was making sure that they were alone.

“Do not speak that name,” he said tightly.

Elain squirmed. Surely that meant something had happened to him. “It was my fault,” she said miserably. “It was my idea, he was only trying to help me. Please don’t hurt him, punish me instead…”

“Quiet!” he commanded. His eyes were wild with what she could have sworn was panic. “Stop talking, Elain.”

Elain. King Koopa almost never called her by her first name. It was always Princess. It was surprising enough to make her fall silent.

“Go to your chambers and do not come out or speak to anyone. And do not say that name to anyone, under any circumstances.”

“But…”

“Now, Princess.”

He stood and walked to her side, and Elain had no choice but to stand and let him escort her to her rooms. It was no use to keep arguing and risk angering him further.

Before shutting the door behind her she turned and looked at him. His russet eyes and vibrant hair were so similar to Lucien’s own features that Elain was suddenly enraged.

“He’s your family,” she spat at him through gritted teeth. “How could you treat like this? You’re a monster.”

The King didn’t growl or snarl, or clench his fists, or thump his spiked tail on the ground, or any of the other reactions she might have expected. He didn’t react at all, except for an almost imperceptible wince.

“I've never argued otherwise,” he replied, staring at her with an intensity that unnerved her. “Just trust me. Stay here. Everything will be ok.”

She opened her mouth to argue further but he was already shutting the door.

“Wait!”

The door snapped shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. Elain’s stomach plummeted. He had never locked her in her chambers before. For a few long minutes she simply stood there and stared at the locked door in shock.

Just trust me. Everything will be ok.

What an odd thing to say before locking her in her room. Laughable, really.

Everything would not be ok. She had been presented with a glimmer of hope, a glimpse at a future that wasn’t just more of the same, and she’d latched on to it like a fool.

But what hurt the most was the thought of Lucien, getting punished for something that had been her idea. Would the King even let him live? Guilt and grief warred with each other until the emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

She barely knew Lucien, but she knew with absolute certainty that she’d never forget him. When her friends inevitably showed up to rescue her she would go back to Mushroom Castle with them, and then she would leave, consequences be damned. She would make her way around the unknown corners of the world on her own, and every time she would see something new she would think of him.

Elain wouldn’t let herself cry. Not here. It was useless to try to go to sleep, so she walked to the window seat and sat, staring out at the harsh, ruined landscape.

-

Lucien tiptoed through the castle, careful to avoid certain corridors where he knew soldiers would be standing guard. It would be wiser to shift only once he reached Elain’s room, but he was so much quieter and quicker this way.

The sound of raucous laughter echoed around the corner, and Lucien dove into an alcove in the wall hidden by a tapestry. He held his breath as the soldiers walked right by him, laughing and jeering and utterly unaware of his presence.

Once their laughter had faded he slowly slipped out from behind the tapestry and hurried towards the tower where Elain was currently locked up.

He had felt sick with guilt about locking her in her chambers as soon as he’d done it, but it had been necessary. He couldn’t risk her asking any of his soldiers about Lucien.

The plan had almost imploded in front of his very eyes, but by some miracle his idiotic guards had not managed to find where the stolen items had been hidden. It would have been trickier to smooth the situation over if the pilfered supplies had been found in their hiding place on his ship. Of course he could have just roared and declared that they were his things and he could do with them as he pleased, but still. Some of them might have grown suspicious and decided to keep watch on the ship. Lucien wanted to avoid confrontation as much as possible.

If all went according to plan they would simply drift away into the night, unseen and unheard. And by some miracle once their absence was noticed they would be long gone.

Lucien hesitated once he reached Elain’s door. Should he knock first, or just unlock the door? He didn’t want to make more noise than necessary, but what if she was sleeping and screamed when she woke up to find him standing next to her bed? And how was he going to explain that he had the key? What would make the most sense for someone who was ostensibly helping their friend escape? Was he overthinking things?

With one quick glance around the deserted hallway he reached out and knocked softly on the door. There was a quick gasp from inside, like last time, and then the hushed sound of her footsteps.

“Elain,” he whispered, “It’s me. Lucien.”

Another gasp, closer this time, like she had her face pressed against the door.

“Lucien! Gods! I thought…are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Are you ok?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I’m locked in, though, I can’t open the door…”

Another roil of guilt. Lucien forced himself to ignore it. “I have the key,” he said quickly. “Can I come in?”

“You have…how did you…yes, of course, come in.”

Lucien slid the key in the lock and then cracked the door open. Elain’s slender arm reached out and tugged him inside before she shut the door again.

She was gaping at him with wide eyes, her jaw hanging clean off its hinges. “How…”

Before he could say anything she had closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Lucien froze in shock, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

“I was so worried!” Her voice was muffled from having her face pressed against his chest. “I thought something happened to you. The King found out about the missing supplies…”

Lucien was so shocked by her reaction that he only patted her on the back awkwardly, though he was tingling from her embrace.

“I’m sorry I scared you…”

“It’s not your fault!” she replied fiercely. “But how…”

Lucien shook his head quickly. “There’s no time, I’ll tell you once we’re on the ship.” Or better yet, she’d be so distracted and ecstatic about leaving that she’d forget to ask. He didn’t want to outright lie to her more than was strictly necessary, or the guilt would eat him alive.

Her brown eyes widened comically.

“We’re leaving,” Lucien clarified. “Tonight. Before anyone else becomes suspicious. Everything’s ready.”

“Tonight?” Her voice wobbled a little with sudden fright.

She glanced towards the window, an unreadable expression on her face. Was she thinking of the friends that were most probably on their way to rescue her right now? Was she changing her mind?

“If that’s still what you wish, of course…” he mumbled, heart pounding with nerves.

She waited another beat before squaring her shoulders and walking towards her wardrobe. Lucien watched silently as she wrapped a cloak around herself and then turned back to him.

“I’m ready.”

Her words, and the determination in her gaze, sent a little shiver through him. He was ready too- he’d been ready to leave this place his whole life. Was he really going to get away with it so easily? He couldn’t think about that now.

He led the way back through the castle and they inched their way slowly through the dark. The castle was mercifully still and silent, and if he weren’t trying to escape Lucien might have been angry at his guards for doing their job so poorly.

He forced himself to focus as they passed through the rooms and hallways that he knew so well he could navigate them blindly. He’d been happy here once, as a child, if only briefly. Before it had all gone to hell. Perhaps running away instead of staying and trying to fix it made him a coward, but it wasn’t just about him anymore. Elain was as silent as a shadow next to him, her head whipping back and forth as she scanned the quiet corridors. No doubt she expected to see the giant outline of the King waiting for them around every bend. Lucien reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. She smiled weakly in return and didn’t let go.

Once they were outside the castle Lucien breathed a sigh of relief. The landing pad was deserted and silent, the ship looming like a specter in the dark.

“Quick,” he whispered. “I don’t see any guards but we should still hurry.”

Elain nodded and hurried onto the ship without hesitation. Lucien had a sudden lurch of deja-vu as he followed her aboard, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He moved quickly, pulling back the gangplank, raising the sails, double checking their supplies. Elain stood guard as he readied the ship, and when everything was ready he met her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

He could see the fear in her eyes, but she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No turning back now.”

Lucien’s blood sang at the sight of that steel. He grinned at her, and with a tilt of the wheel they lifted into the night sky.

-

Elain leaned against the side of the ship as they rose into the air, the wind whipping her hair around her head. Castle Koopa shrank below her, smaller and smaller, until it was as innocent-looking as a dollhouse. How strange, to be flying away from it, and not towards it.

Elain couldn’t quite believe she was really doing this. She expected to wake up at any moment, back in her chambers inside the King’s castle.

Or, perhaps she’d wake up safe and sound at home, inside her own castle. Somehow that was even more terrifying.

A creaking sound made her turn around. Lucien was lowering the flag, a grim expression on his handsome face. Once it was within his reach he ripped it off almost savagely and stared at it in dislike. When he lifted his gaze to her he seemed almost sheepish.

“Burn it or throw it overboard?” he asked with a quirk of his lips.

Elain couldn’t help but smile, even with the seriousness of the situation. “Why not both?”

Lucien grinned broadly and came to stand beside her. He held out the black and red cloth and glared at it again.

“Any last words?”

Elain looked at the menacing image of the King on the flag- teeth bared, eyes narrowed, his horns curving on top of his head. “Good riddance.”

Lucien shot her a grin, and then his eyes flashed like embers in the dark and the flag caught fire. Elain gasped and instinctively backed up a step. She shouldn’t have been that surprised, given the fact that she knew Lucien must be related to the King, but seeing him exhibit magic so casually had thrown her. With a shirt hiding his back he looked so human that if she ignored the horns it was easy to forget that he wasn’t a regular man.

The fire in his gaze died away as he whipped his head towards her and winced at the look on her face.

“Sorry,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to scare you…”

Elain shook her head and stepped closer, mesmerized by the flames. The flag was ablaze, flames licking over Lucien’s hand, and yet he didn’t so much as flinch.

They stood in heavy silence, watching solemnly as the flag continued to burn. Pieces of fabric broke off and fluttered away in the wind, and eventually Lucien let it go. It glittered in the dark for a moment, like a floating lantern, and then it was gone.

A weight seemed to lift off her shoulders, as if that flag had been the last tether holding her back. They’d done it. They had escaped.

“I can’t believe it worked,” Lucien murmured, as if reading her thoughts.

“It feels so strange,” Elain admitted. “I’ve been thinking about it for so long. It doesn’t seem real.”

Lucien’s expression turned sad. “I feel the same way.”

There were so many questions Elain wanted to ask him, but now didn’t seem like the right time. Her eyes flicked upwards against her will, to those curved horns that were so like the King’s. Identical, really.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, almost timidly.

Elain flushed and dragged her eyes back to his face. “Of course!”

“Do I frighten you?”

Elain blushed again. He’d caught her staring at his horns.

“No!” she replied with a sheepish smile. “You just…intrigue me.”

It was Lucien’s turn to blush, enough so that she could tell even in the dark.

“Oh?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

A laugh bubbled out of her throat, and it was like all the tension of the day suddenly melted away.

“I just mean…you know more about me than I do about you.”

The amusement sparkling in Lucien’s russet eyes faded away, and he dipped his head, letting his red hair fall over his face like a curtain.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said quickly, kicking herself mentally. He’d been as much a prisoner as she had been, of course he wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he replied, his tone weary. “For now you should rest. We’ll fly the rest of the night, and then I’ll anchor down somewhere at daybreak. We’ll need to lie low during the day to avoid detection.”

Elain nodded, suddenly so grateful that he was there with her that she could have cried. It seemed like he had thought of it all. Almost like he’d been planning for a long time and had just been waiting for an opportunity.

The question was on the tip of her tongue. Something she’d been wondering ever since he told her his plans to steal the ship.

“If you knew how to fly the ship why did you never try to escape before?”

Lucien’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Elain bit her lip but held his gaze. After a few moments his expression softened, and Elain released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Maybe I just never had a good enough reason before,” he said with a sad smile.

Elain reached out and squeezed his hand, suddenly overly warm despite the cool night wind blowing around them.

“I’m glad you found one,” she whispered.

-

When Elain woke up the sun was warm on her face, and it was so pleasant that for a moment she simply lounged there, like a cat.

The events of the previous night slammed into her like a tsunami, and she sat bolt upright and scrambled towards the nearest porthole. She hadn't meant to sleep through the whole night, but evidently the burst of adrenaline had worn her out.

Lucien had landed the ship in the ocean, and the gentle rocking of the waves was so soothing that Elain wasn’t surprised she’d slept this long. For a moment she was blinded by the harsh sunlight, but as her vision adjusted she saw that they weren’t in the middle of the ocean, but bobbing just off the coast of a dazzling tropical beach. The sand was as white as a clean sheet of paper, the water so clear she could see colorful fish darting through the waves. Dotting the beach were tall trees with skinny trunks and fat, swaying leaves. Elain had never seen anything like them before. She gasped in delight and practically ran back up to the deck.

When she emerged she was greeted by warm sunlight on her shoulders, and she closed her eyes and tilted her head back in delight.

“Did you sleep well?”

Elain turned and came face to face with Lucien, who looked a lot less well-rested than she felt.

There were dark purple smudges under his eyes, and a general weariness in the way he held his limbs.

“Like a baby,” she replied sheepishly. “How late is it? You look like you haven’t slept a wink…”

Lucien waved a hand vaguely. “We’re still quite south, it was safer for me to stand guard.”

“I’m sorry! You should have woken me!”

Lucien waved away her protests, throwing her a grin that made her feel warm again, and not just from the sun. He was really quite handsome, really. Objectively, of course…

“We should be safe here until nightfall,” he said. “It’s not safe to fly during the day this far south, but with the ship in the water we should be incognito enough.”

Elain looked at the deserted water behind them, and the equally deserted beach in front. She was embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of such details herself during her own daydreams of escape, but she was eternally grateful that he had.

“Do you want to see the beach?” he asked, noting the direction of her gaze.

“Oh!” In truth she did, very much so, but she was also very aware of the exhaustion radiating off of him. “Later, after you’ve had some rest.”

“But…”

“You need to sleep, Lucien! Otherwise who will fly the ship?”

She planted her hands on her hips for good measure. Her defiance was laughable, really, considering her nose was level with his chest and he was part Koopaling with flame power, but Lucien seemed to hesitate nonetheless.

“We’re still close to Koopa Kingdom,” he argued, scanning the skies. “I should stay awake in case we need to fly…”

“And if that happens you won’t be much use dead on your feet!”

Lucien seemed to hesitate again, until a yawn betrayed him, so powerful that his entire body shook. Elain gave him a pointed look.

“Fine,” he relented. “Fine. But I’m staying above deck, just in case. And please stay on the ship, and wake me up right away if you see anything suspicious…”

“Yes, yes! I’ll be right here. Now go to sleep!”

With a few more weak protests Lucien piled up a few cloaks in a shaded corner of the deck and promptly fell asleep. Elain watched the rise and fall of his chest for a few moments. He looked so innocent like this, despite the horns, despite the power she now knew coursed through his veins. At that moment he looked as innocent as a cat curled up on a pile of blankets.

Who are you, she wondered. And how did we find each other?

Elain heeded Lucien’s warning at first and stayed on the ship, curling up with a book in a shaded spot not far from where he slept. But she was so distracted that after reading the first sentence for what felt like the twentieth time she snapped the book shut. The sound of the waves crashing onto the pristine beach was hypnotizing, like a siren song calling out to her. She could almost feel the sand running through her toes, warm where it was dry and deliciously cool where it was damp…

She glanced at Lucien again. He was fast asleep, with a cloak drawn up almost all the way over his face. The skies were empty, there were no looming dangers on the horizon. And besides, they were anchored right on the beach, and she wouldn’t go far. She would run back and wake him at the first sign of danger, like she’d promised.

With only a slight twinge of guilt Elain took off her shoes and climbed down off the ship and into the shallow waves. The water was surprisingly warm, almost like a bath, and for a moment Elain stood there and let the waves lap at her ankles. The bottom of her dress was immediately soaked, so she reached down and tied her skirts in a clumsy knot around her knees. Her legs were so pale that they were practically translucent in the sunlight. Elain giggled at the thought of how indecent she must look, wading through the water with her legs exposed.

The sand was warm underneath her toes, the sun hot on her shoulders, the breeze deliciously refreshing as it ruffled her hair. Elain plopped herself down on the sand and for a while simply took it all in. She’d flown over these islands countless times, had only dreamt that she might one day see them with her own eyes, and now here she was. On the run, yes, but still.

She felt bold, free- untethered for the first time in her life. With a laugh she fell backwards on the sand, arms splayed out, the sun beating down on her. Surely she’d be the color of a tomato very shortly, but who cared? It was so peaceful, with the hypnotizing crash of the waves at her feet, and the gentle, salty breeze kissing her skin. Almost peaceful enough to forget the very real danger they were in.

So peaceful that Elain might have dozed off, right there in the sand, and when she woke her stomach was rumbling and her throat was dry. She got up and dusted the sand from her dress and hair, wincing at the already reddening skin on her legs and arms. Perhaps falling asleep in broad sunshine hadn’t been wise.

The smart thing to do would have been to go back on the ship and find some food and water (and shade) but she’d be damned if they left this island before she could explore it.

She walked up and down the length of the beach twice, peering curiously at every shell and algae and piece of driftwood brought in by the tide. Her attention kept drifting to the jungle in the distance, and with another quick glance at the ship she crossed the beach and walked into the dense vegetation.

It was cooler amongst the vegetation, and damp, like the plants had retained moisture from the last time it rained. There were those skinny trees with the swaying leaves, vivid green ferns with leaves larger than her whole body, and flowers so bright they almost looked artificial. Elain had never seen plants like this before in her life. One plant in particular caught her eye- a shrub, with large blooms that were white on the outside and pink in their center. She was plucking a few of them when a thump behind her made her jump.

She whirled, heart racing, but nobody was there. The only sounds were the waves in the distance and her own ragged breathing.

Another thump, closer this time. Elain scanned the skies and the surrounding woods with increasing dread. Could someone be concealing themselves with magic? She was suddenly regretting her decision to walk so far on her own.

Something landed by her feet with that same muffled thump, and Elain jumped in fright before realizing that the thing was not a concealed enemy, but what appeared to be a piece of fallen fruit. A shaky laugh whooshed out of her and she bent to retrieve the fruit, her stomach rumbling again. It was a round, hard shell with a fuzzy exterior, and when she shook it made a slight sloshing sound, as if there was water inside. Elain was suddenly parched.

Opening the fruit, it turned out, was much harder than it looked. She tried bashing it on a sharp branch, she stomped on it, she stabbed it with a broken shell she found on the beach. She tried everything, and nothing seemed able to crack it open. Frustrated, she grabbed the fruit and threw it against a nearby tree trunk.

A shadow fell over her accompanied by the sound of amused chuckles, and Elain turned to find Lucien standing there, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he teased with a grin.

Elain blushed, biting her lip to hide her grin. His hair was mussed from sleep, and he looked adorably disheveled as he blinked sleepily against the harsh sunlight.

“I was curious what was inside, but it’s quite stubborn, it turns out…”

Lucien laughed again. “As are you, it would appear. I see you followed my warning to stay on the ship.”

Elain felt a twinge of guilt, preparing to launch into an apology, but then he threw her another grin and she realized he was teasing.

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “I probably should have, I think I’m already sunburned…”

“The island look suits you.” His gaze dropped to her bare legs, and heat bloomed on her cheeks again.

Thankfully Lucien turned towards her discarded fruit and didn’t notice how flustered she became under his gaze. “Have you ever had one of these?” he called over his shoulder.

“No. I don’t even know what they’re called.”

“Coconuts!” he said with a grin.

Elain was just about to ask how he planned to open it when he lifted it above his head and impaled it on one of his horns with force. She clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles as he stood there with a silly grin on his face.

“Did that hurt?”

He shrugged, lifting the coconut off his horn with a pop. “It hurt the coconut more than me.” He held the fruit out to her with an elaborate flourish. “Your coconut, my lady.”

Elain giggled again and took a sip. The liquid inside was thick and sweet, and she drank greedily until it was empty. When she lowered it Lucien was still watching her, russet eyes glittering with amusement. It was truly unlady-like behavior, exposing her legs and drinking straight from a coconut, but she was having too much fun to care.

“And? Did it live up to your expectations?”

Elain wiped her mouth and dropped the empty shell onto the sand. “Any chance you can open a couple more?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the beach and jungle, sipping from coconuts until there was a mountain of shells on the beach. Lucien was good company, the conversation between them so easy and comfortable that if it weren’t for the way he kept scanning the skies with worry, it might have been nothing more than a fun afternoon with a friend.

As the afternoon sun started making its descent towards the horizon they sat side by side on the shore to watch the sunset. They were sitting so close together than Elain could feel Lucien’s body warmth, and she had to resist the urge to lean her head against his shoulder. With everything that had happened it was hard to believe that they were still practically strangers.

“I wish we could stay here longer,” Lucien said with a sigh, breaking their comfortable silence.

The vividly blue sky was fading into pinks and purples, the sun a fiery orb on the horizon. He sounded so melancholy that Elain scooted closer to him until their sides were touching.

“Me too.”

“Maybe one day,” he said sadly. “When it’s safe.”

Neither of them said anything for a while, but Elain was sure they were both thinking the same thing. Would they ever be safe, while the King was out there, hunting them? She glanced up at Lucien and flushed when she saw he was already looking at her. Elain dipped her head, unsure how to ask what she was so desperate to know. They’d kept their conversations light all day, and she’d given the topic of Lucien’s backstory a wide berth.

“You haven’t asked,” he said softly, as if reading her mind. He bumped her shoulder gently and Elain forced herself to meet his intense gaze.

“I didn’t want to push.”

Lucien was quiet for so long that she almost told him to forget about it, but then he sighed and turned to face the sunset. The bright red glow of the setting sun made his ruby hair glitter like a dying fire and set sharp contrasts on the angular panes of his face.

“My father was the previous King of Koopa Kingdom,” he started, still staring off into the distance.

Elain’s eyes widened at his sudden admission. She had suspected as much, but knowing that it was true made it even more horrible. Elain didn’t have any siblings, but she couldn’t imagine being on bad terms with your brother to the point of being held captive.

“Koopa Kingdom wasn’t always the way it is now. When I was young it was as lush and beautiful as the plains around Mushroom Castle. We had farms, lakes, rivers. I spent the majority of my youth avoiding lessons and duties in favor of climbing trees.”

That made Elain smile. For some reason she could picture it- young Lucien, a devilish grin on his face, hiding in the branches as his mother called out to him.

“And then…” he trailed off, his russet eyes shuttering with the memories. “The volcano was the physical catalyst, but our court had been rotting from the inside out for a long time. By the time our lands became covered with lava my family was as broken as the land. My brothers were greedy, my father cruel, and in the end they all destroyed each other. Except…except for the current king, of course…”

He took a deep, shuttering breath and let it out with a woosh. “It wasn’t so much that I was a prisoner and more that I had nowhere else to go.”

It was so sad, so unfair, and Elain’s heart was heavy for him, her new friend. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and felt him stiffen for a moment before he relaxed again.

“The King told me not to speak of you with anyone but him.”

Lucien seemed to hesitate. “The King works hard to maintain a certain image to the rest of the world. I guess I’m a threat to that.”

Because he wasn’t cruel and evil like the rest of that doomed kingdom, but kind, and good. There was nothing Elain could say to that, so she simply sat next to him and watched as the sun burned hot and then slipped away below the horizon.

-

“Are you sure about this?” Lucien asked warily. It seemed like a supremely bad idea to him but Elain seemed so excited that he didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

“Yes! Just hold still.”

Lucien grumbled vaguely but sat still as Elain wrapped the cloth around his face, carefully avoiding his horns. He glanced out of the nearest porthole and winced.

“It looks like a really bad sand storm,” he tried again.

The Island territory was so vast that it had taken them over a week of flying only at night to clear it. Lucien had breathed a sigh of relief when they had finally crossed over into the deserts, but his relief had quickly faded when the clear, sunny skies of the islands had made way for a raging, unrelenting sand storm. He’d been forced to land the ship on the outskirts of a half-submerged town, and they’d been grounded for two days.

“Exactly,” Elain declared. “Nobody would be stupid enough to go outside in this weather, you said it yourself. We’ll be perfectly safe.”

Her eyes kept flitting down to his bare chest as she spoke, her cheeks tinged pink, and Lucien resisted the urge to flex under her gaze. He kept telling himself that it was too damn hot to wear a shirt, but in truth his choice of wardrobe had more to do with how she bit her lip and blushed every time she glanced at him. Elain herself had cut off the skirts of a few of her dresses at the knee, and it was a supreme effort to not keep glancing down at her bare legs.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed. “But we shouldn’t go far, it’s easy to get lost around here…” Elain’s eyes shone with excitement as she fashioned her own head scarf out of stray scraps of fabric. “You worry too much. I bet they’re not even looking for us anymore.”

Lucien’s stomach churned with guilt. It was his fault that this was her life now, constantly looking over her shoulder, wearing disguises to avoid being recognized. He could believe that his own people might not be inclined to come looking for him, but they both knew Elain’s friends wouldn’t rest until she was found. There would be a confrontation at some point, and Lucien was dreading it.

The sand stung his exposed skin when they climbed off the ship, and he immediately regretted his choice of clothing. Judging from the way Elain was huddling into him he guessed she was having the same thoughts.

“We can go back…” His words were swallowed by the howling wind, but before he could say anything else Elain had grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the village in the distance.

The wind was so strong that though they kept walking the village never seemed to get any closer. Lucien pointed out a shimmering spot on the horizon, which turned out to not be a mirage as he had expected, but an oasis. The shallow pond was shaded with large palms, and it would have been an idyllic spot, if not for the raging storm around them.

Every few minutes Lucien looked over his shoulder to make sure the ship was still visible. The last thing they needed was to get lost in the desert and have to ask someone for help. By now the sand had piled up so high that the hull was half covered. If the storm didn’t let up soon they’d be forced to either take off and take their chances in the sky, or risk getting buried to the point of no return.

Elain had bundled her makeshift headscarf so tightly around her face that he could only see her eyes, but the jab she gave him in the ribs said everything he couldn’t see from her expression.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes and poked him again. “STOP WORRYING!” she yelled, her voice muffled by fabric and wind.

Lucien grinned at her even though she couldn’t see it and held up his hands in surrender. Elain’s eyes glittered, and Lucien knew he’d never get tired of that sight. Even if it wouldn’t last, couldn’t last. He’d enjoy her happiness while it lasted.

He was still staring at her when her eyes widened and she excitedly pointed to a spot in the distance. They had just arrived at the top of a large dune, and suddenly the village appeared in front of them.

Village was perhaps an exaggeration. It was more a collection of brightly-colored buildings, the sand-swept roads dotted with cactuses standing tall like soldiers. Strangest of all, however, were the ruins. Just beyond the edge of the village was a large inverted pyramid, sticking out of sand as it defied gravity. Lucien could see something prowling in front of the entrance, and he grabbed Elain’s hand and led her towards the village before she could lead him towards the pyramid instead. He’d had plenty of encounters with sphinxes before, and he didn’t need to add one to his current list of anxieties.

The village was mostly deserted, with only a few brave souls bundled like they were hurrying to their destinations. As they walked Elain looked around with wide eyes, her delight so palpable he could almost feel it. She hadn’t removed her hand from his, and his skin tingled from the contact.

In the center of the village was a square, with a large marble statue in the center, a small chapel, and several shops with closed signs in their windows. Everything was covered in plants- cactuses coming out of the ground, window boxes full of colorful blooms, walls covered with ivy. They heard music coming from what looked like a restaurant, and before he could protest Elain had dragged him inside.

It was such a relief to be out of the storm that he didn’t even protest. There were lazy fans circling overhead, sending cool air on his overheated skin, and the atmosphere was relaxed and jolly. Elain looked up at him through her eyelashes in what he was quickly beginning to recognize as her signature pleading look, and Lucien sighed in resignation. It was no use trying to fight against those eyes, and besides, he was hot and tired and all he wanted to do was sit and drink an entire pitcher of ice water.

He let himself be led to a table, grateful that it was in a relatively dark and quiet corner of the restaurant. Elain went to unwrap her headscarf but Lucien grabbed her wrist to stop her. Elain might never have been here before, but that didn’t mean her face wouldn’t be recognized throughout the kingdom. She nodded in comprehension and unwrapped her face only enough to eat, letting the fabric hang low over her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien murmured. “It’s just, if someone recognizes you, they might think I’ve taken you by force…” But isn’t that what you’ve done? Isn’t that what she’ll realize, when she finds out who you are?

Elain reached across the table to squeeze his hand, and Lucien was suddenly glad for his own head scarf so she couldn't see him flush at the contact.

“Don’t feel bad,” she replied fiercely. “It’s my fault we’re on the run. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Lucien must have looked uncertain at that, and she squeezed his hand for emphasis. “Truly, without you I’d still be in that tower. Or worse, in my own castle.”

She looked so miserable at the thought that Lucien’s stomach twisted. “Was it really so bad that you needed to run away? Couldn’t you have told your people that you wanted more than a quiet life in a castle?”

Elain shook her head grimly. “They wouldn’t have understood. To them I’m little more than a symbol. A pretty, agreeable monarch they can sit on a throne and show off to the entire Kingdom.” Her eyes flashed as she spoke, and Lucien’s blood sang for her, and for that spark he saw in her. She might be his prisoner in a way, but never again would he lock her up in a tower. “My life there was so dull that sometimes I thought I might die of boredom.” “And now look at you,” he teased, wanting to lighten the mood. “On the run with this.” He gestured at the horns poking out of the fabric wrapped around his head, and she laughed.

Dishes were brought out, fragrant meats, roasted vegetables, bowls of rice, crunchy bread. Elain chatted as they ate, telling him about her childhood, her dreams, how she’d always wanted to travel but had never been allowed to. Lucien avoided her questions when he could, and spun white lies when he couldn’t, hating himself more with every lie he told her.

A band was playing in the corner, and at some point people drifted onto a dance floor in front of the stage. Their waiter had brought them a bottle of clear liquor along with their food, and Lucien had downed just enough of it to feel relaxed and slightly reckless.

Their dishes were cleared, and Elain sat back in her chair, looking at the dancers with a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

“Would you like to dance?” Lucien blurted.

She looked at him in surprise, her cheeks turning pink. Lucien downed another shot of the burning liquor, feeling like an idiot. He was just about to tell her to forget about it when she smiled shyly at him.

“I would love to dance.”

Lucien grinned and held out his hand. Elain blushed again as she took his hand, letting him lead her to the dancefloor. A few people glanced at his horns warily, stepping back to make room for them.

A singer had joined the group of guitarists, and she launched into a slow, melancholy tune. Lucien didn’t let himself overthink it as he took one of Elain’s hands in his and pressed the other to her lower back. They swayed in time with the music, and Lucien decided if he were to die that night he would die happy.

After a few minutes Elain tilted her head back to look at him, and she looked so happy and trusting that Lucien couldn’t breathe. He’d had enough of the liquor to shove aside his guilt and let himself indulge in the feel of her in his arms. It felt so good, so right.

His gaze dipped to her rosy lips and it was an exercise in self control to not cradle her face and kiss her in the middle of this restaurant. She might trust him, but as far as Elain knew they had only known each other for a few weeks.

“Lucien?” she asked shyly.

“Yes?”

She bit her lip, and Lucien couldn’t help the breath that wooshed out of him at the sight.

“I’m really glad I met you.”

Lucien stopped swaying, his heart beating so swiftly he thought he might vomit. “I’m really glad I met you, too,” he murmured.

She smiled at him, more radiant than the sun, and he grinned back, feeling silly with his affection for her.

Elain let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck, and then she closed the gap between them and laid her cheek against his chest. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils, and Lucien held her close, pretending just for tonight that they were two normal people, and not two monarchs on the run.

-

The temperature cooled as they continued their journey, past the rolling plains surrounding Mushroom Castle and towards the dense Forests to the north. Lucien had deemed it safe to start flying during the day, and Elain was glad- the Forests were dark and gloomy and if they absolutely had to land there she would rather do it at night when she was asleep than during the day.

The woods were dense, and by the time they found a clearing large enough to fit their ship night had fallen. All around them loomed impossibly tall trees, some so tall that Elain could barely see the tops of them. It was eerily quiet in the woods, as if even the wind didn’t dare make too much noise. The only sound around them was the soft bubbling of a creek, and the occasional sound of an animal in the distance. Elain wasn’t sure what kind of animals lived in these parts, but she wasn’t too keen on venturing out to find out.

Lucien, it seemed, didn’t share in her fears, and he stood out on the deck and looked around the woods with a wide grin on his face. As the distance between them and Koopa Kingdom grew he seemed more and more relaxed, his anxiety giving way to easy smiles that sent Elain’s stomach fluttering.

Something had shifted between them that day in the desert, when they had held each other close as they swayed to the music. Their easy camaraderie was still there, but it felt charged, taunt, with every casual brush of fingers or lingering look feeding fire to the flames.

Elain couldn’t explain it, the pull she felt towards him. It almost felt as if she had known him for a lot longer than she had. Sometimes she caught him looking at her with an intensity that left her breathless, like he could see right through her, all the good and the bad.

“How do you feel about fresh fish for dinner?” Lucien asked from where he stood on the deck, bringing her out of her reverie.

Elain flushed as she realized she had been staring at him. “You think it’s safe out there?” she asked uncertainly.

“Where’s the adventurer who dragged me out into a sand storm?” he teased.

“Aren’t there…animals, and things?”

Lucien shrugged and made a vague motion with his hand that didn’t quite put her at ease. “Sure, but nothing too menacing. The only thing we really need to worry about are the giant goombas, but they’re quite skittish. Besides, we’ll be able to hear them from miles away.”

Elain gaped at him in horror, and Lucien winced. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “That’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but I promise we’ll be fine. Tell you what,” he added, as Elain stayed frozen on the spot, “If you can help me gather some firewood I’ll light a fire, it should help to keep them away.”

Elain was still not convinced but she followed him off the ship regardless, figuring that at the very least she would rather be near Lucien if they were attacked by a herd of giants. Lucien grinned and pointed to a spot near the creek before rolling his pants up to his knees and walking right into the water. She was about to ask what he was doing when he reached into the water and chucked a fish towards her. He’d tied up his long ruby hair, a few strands coming loose to frame his face, and Elain knew she was staring but she absolutely could not help it.

“Didn’t I give you a job?” he teased, winking at her.

“Just making sure you don’t drown!” she quipped back, lowering her gaze firmly to the ground in search of firewood. “I can’t fly that ship, you know!” Suddenly she was glad to have the cover of darkness to hide her blush.

“I should teach you.”

Elain dropped the pile of sticks she was holding and turned to stare at him again. “Really?”

Lucien shrugged and swooped down to catch another fish. “You should know how. It’s easy, really, it’s only the landing that can get tricky sometimes. Maybe we can practice once we’re north, the snow will make for a nicer landing.”

The mention of their destination made her stomach clench with unease. She’d been putting off asking him about his plans after they arrived north, afraid to hear what his answer would be. She didn’t know if she had the nerve to ask him to stay, and if he would even consider it if she did ask.

Lucien waded out of the creek and frowned at her pitiful pile of sticks. “Let’s only hope you’re better at flying than at gathering firewood.”

Elain crossed her arms and lifted her chin with mock defiance. “I guess it depends on how good a teacher you are.”

Lucien’s grin was nothing short of wicked, and when their gazes locked she saw a flame had sparked to life in his russet eyes. It shouldn’t have taken her by surprise but for a moment she couldn’t breathe. All of a sudden she was back in Mushroom Castle, holding her ground as the King Koopa stared her down with that same fiery gaze.

The very same eyes, though one set belonged on a giant reptile and the other on a…what was he, exactly? Not quite a man, not quite Koopa.

My brothers were greedy, my father cruel, and in the end they all destroyed each other. Except…except for the current king, of course…

How could he be so different and yet so similar?

Lucien was giving her that look again- the one with the intensity of a forge, the one that almost looked like a question. Or else, like an offer.

With a supreme effort Elain tore her gaze away from those eyes, suddenly afraid that she might know what that question was. That maybe she had suspected all along.

-

They ate their grilled fish by the fire, sitting side by side on a blanket. The flames crackled merrily in front of them, and it might have been romantic, had it not been for the sudden tension in the air, so thick he could almost feel it.

Elain knew. Or else she strongly suspected, Lucien was certain of it.

He had done something, or said something. He wasn’t sure what, but how else to explain her sudden shift in behavior? One minute she had been joking around with him as usual, and the next she had stared at him as if she had never seen him before.

She didn’t seem afraid, and yet- she hadn’t been afraid of him for a long time. Was it simply self-preservation that prevented her from trying to run away from him, or something else?

Elain bit her lip and glanced at him furtively for what was probably the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, trying to sound concerned and yet casual at the same time.

Are you freaking out because you’ve just realized that I’M actually the fire breathing monster we’ve been supposedly running away from this entire time?

Do you see me?

Do you see?

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, dipping her chin so that her thick curls hid her face like a curtain.

Before he could stop himself Lucien reached out and gently swept her hair over her shoulder. He heard her sharp inhale, but she didn’t recoil from him as he had expected her to.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

See me.

She looked up at him, her fawn-coloured eyes wide and reflecting the flickering flames. He moved his fingers from her hair to her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, ever so slightly. “Tell me,” he prompted.

Elain seemed to hesitate, but she held his gaze. “Why are you not afraid of King Koopa catching up to us?”

It was no use trying to deny it, and besides, he didn’t want to. He had never meant to lie to her more than strictly necessary.

“I think you know,” he murmured, his heart in his throat. He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, wanting to freeze this moment forever in his mind.

“Who are you?” It didn’t sound like a demand, or an accusation, but merely like curiosity.

Lucien shifted closer to her until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. His horns cast menacing shadows behind her, but she didn’t cower from him. Instead he watched as her eyes dipped towards his mouth, and her own rosy pink lips parted as her breath quickened.

“You know me, Princess.”

Princess. If she hadn’t suspected before then she had to now. Her eyes widened slightly, the only indication that she had understood. Yet still she didn’t move away.

“Do I?” she whispered.

Lucien leaned down until their noses were only an inch apart. Her pulse was racing underneath his fingertips, keeping time with his own erratic heartbeat. “Yes. You’re the only one who ever has.”

“Why?” Her question was no more than an exhaled breath.

Instead of answering he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in a feather-like kiss. More like a caress of lips, gentle enough that she could push him away if she wanted to.

But when her hands crept up to his chest and wrapped into his shirt it wasn’t to push, but to pull him closer. Lucien kissed her again, firmly this time, and she fell into him, snaking her hands up around his neck.

Elain sighed against his lips and Lucien drank in the sound, reveling in every little noise she made, in the taste and scent and feel of her. He’d been dreaming about this for so long that it didn’t seem real. Surely she would push away, slap him, punch him, and he’d deserve it, and so much more…

But she didn’t, so Lucien only wrapped an arm around her back and buried his other hand in her hair and lost himself in her. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and tasted the charred fish they’d eaten mixed with the taste of her, and it was so heady that he didn’t notice the rumbling in the distance. Especially not as she parted her lips and her own tongue darted out to brush against his own, her fingers tangling in his hair in a way that was sure to drive him mad.

He didn’t hear anything at all until Elain broke the kiss and stared at him with eyes that were wide with surprise, her rosy lips slightly parted.

Here it is, he thought. He braced himself for the slap, the anger, the accusations. But just as he opened his mouth to launch into a torrent of apologies she pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Did you hear that?”

Lucien frowned, following the direction of her gaze. “Hear what?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he felt it as much as he heard it. The ground shook with vibrations that reminded him horribly of that first volcano eruption at Castle Koopa, a sign of something terrible and ominous approaching. Lucien’s mouth went dry, and he jumped to his feet, holding Elain close as if he could keep her safe by sheer will.

“What’s…”

“Giants,” he said simply.

By some miracle they seemed to be approaching from the opposite side of the clearing from where he had landed the ship. The last they needed was to be on the run and on foot.

Elain gasped and clutched him tighter, her eyes scanning the dark forest wildly. Some idiotic, male part of him was preening at the fact that she considered him her protector in this situation, and not just one more monster.

“Run back to the ship, Elain,” he urged.

“What?! What do you mean, shouldn’t we leave?”

Lucien shook his head, just as the sound of falling trees echoed from the other side of the clearing.

“If we try to run they might catch up and attack the ship. I’ll have to hold them off for a while so we can take off.”

“You can’t fight off giants! You don’t even have any weapons…”

“Fire,” Lucien said simply. “They’re scared of fire.”

Elain gaped at him incredulously before glancing at the small fire they had cooked their meal on, her gaze so uncertain that he almost wanted to laugh.

But then three giant misshapen forms crashed into the clearing, and Elain let out a shriek of terror. The giants started at the sudden noise and then turned their beady eyes in their direction.

“ELAIN, RUN!”

With a wave of his hand their cozy fire exploded into a bonfire, and with that he took off at a run towards the giants, shifting as he went into the reptilian form of King Koopa.

-

Elain was frozen on the spot. First by the looming, impossibly tall shapes of the giants lumbering through the trees.

And then by the sight of what attacked them.

It shouldn’t have been that much of a shock. Lucien had more or less admitted the truth, but suspecting it and seeing it with her own eyes were two different things altogether.

It happened so quickly that she hardly tracked the movement. One moment Lucien was running through the clearing, ruby hair flying behind him, and the next he had shifted into the monstrous form of King Koopa without so much as stumbling. His roar broke the eerie silence of the woods, and the startled yells of the giants were loud enough that Elain felt the vibration through the ground.

The first burst of flame out of Lucien shook her out of her trance, but she didn’t run to the ship. She was rooted to the ground, her eyes trained on the great, scaled beast that scorched the forest to ash before her very eyes.

Elain wasn’t afraid, not as much as she should be, at least, and she knew that maybe she would never be again. There was no enemy he wouldn’t face for her, no corner of the earth he wouldn’t take her to if she asked. She knew it in her heart, just like she had known not to be afraid of him.

She might not be a fighter, but she wasn’t a damsel in distress either, so she stood in front of his flames and watched as the feared beast lit the woods on fire. The giants shrieked and stumbled into each other with fright, but Lucien was faster and smarter. Soon a barrier of fire stood between them and the giants, and with an ear-splitting roar of frustration they retreated back into the woods.

Lucien roared back, illuminating the night with flame, and one of the giants swiped at him before retreating after his fellows.

Elain screamed again and broke into a run as Lucien flew through the air before landing with a loud thud. When he didn’t immediately move white-hot panic shot through her, and she couldn’t remember ever being this afraid.

“LUCIEN!”

Elain threw herself to the ground beside him, and then he stirred, groaning faintly.

“Lucien!” Elain reached out a hand and pressed it to his cheek. His skin was rough and textured with scales, but when he stirred again and opened his eyes it was the same russet eyes she had always known.

“M’okay…” he murmured, pushing himself up into a sitting position with some difficulty. He was so large that she had to stand to be at eye level with him.

“Are you hurt?!” She scanned him from head to toe, sagging with relief when she saw he seemed unharmed.

“I’m alright, Princess.” He smiled ruefully. “Takes more than a giant to take me down.”

Elain loosed a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and before she could stop herself she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. His skin was rough but warm, unnaturally so, like she had always imagined it to be.

Lucien wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground as he stood. “Let’s go,” he murmured.

Elain let him carry her back to the ship, her face still pressed against his neck. How many times had he done exactly this?

When he set her down it was with the gentleness of a less menacing creature, one who didn’t breathe fire or have horns on his head. Except now she knew the two could be one and the same.

“Eyes up here, Princess,” he said with a slight smirk, pointing to his face.

Elain frowned, wondering if he was pointing to an injury she had missed. But then with a faint burst of fiery light he shifted, and the person she simply knew as Lucien stood in front of her again. Elain didn’t mean to look, but a quick dip of her gaze quickly revealed that his clothing had apparently not survived the transition. She whirled, partly to give him privacy but mostly to hide the heat rising up her face, and Lucien chuckled.

She heard him shuffling around, and then they were airborne, the blaze falling away below them.

And then she felt more than heard him walk up behind her. Elain didn’t know why she was suddenly nervous, only that she desperately wanted to go back to that moment by the fire.

“I’m sorry.”

Elain turned to look at him and saw that his handsome face was wracked with guilt. He’d wrapped a stray blanket around his waist but had left his chest bare. “What for? You saved us.”

Lucien smiled wryly. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Elain couldn’t help a little grin of her own, even with her heart beating a staccato rhythm in her chest. “The only other time you’ve apologized to me is when you kidnapped me at night instead of during the day.”

Lucien loosed a shaky laugh. “Well, that was pretty shitty…”

The fact that he sounded nervous too made her feel bold, and she took a step forward until she had to lift her chin to look up at him.

“Are you going to apologize for the rest?” she asked.

“Should I?” Elain quirked an eyebrow, and his answering grin was the definition of smug. “Was it really kidnapping, if you came willingly?”

“If I remember correctly I did ask you not to take me,” she shot back.

She expected him to chuckle, for his eyes to light with flame, but he only stared at her. And then something in his gaze shuttered, and his throat bobbed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Elain was so taken aback by the sincerity in his tone that she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry for tricking you,” he continued. He lifted a hand to brush her hair back from her face, letting his fingers skim her cheek. “I never meant…I just…”

“You just what?” she pushed.

“I’ve loved you since the first moment I ever laid eyes on you, and it’s made me very, very stupid.”

Elain flushed again, both from the admission and the obvious regret in his eyes.

“When you said you didn’t want to go back home…you sounded so desperate, I would have done anything for you. I still would do anything for you. Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there. Anywhere.” His voice sounded choked, his gaze fierce as he looked at her.

“And then?” she asked in a small voice.

Lucien swallowed thickly, still staring at her as though he meant to memorize her face.

“And then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

Elain’s heart stuttered with panic. Surely he knew that’s not what she wanted? When she opened her mouth to protest he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her, as she had done earlier.

“I thought you might come to love me, too,” he said miserably. “If you knew the real me, if you saw that there’s more to me than just the monster…”

Elain pushed his hand away. “You’re not a monster, Lucien. Stop saying that.”

Lucien blinked, his mouth opening and closing comically.

“And who says I don’t?” she continued, almost defiantly.

“Who says you don’t…what?”

He looked so hopeful and confused that she could only smile. “Who says I don’t love you, stupid?”

For a moment he looked confused still, frowning as if he couldn’t comprehend what she had said. And then a spark came to life in his eyes, and his smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Does that mean you don’t want me to leave you alone?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her back and drawing her in close.

“You really are very, very, stupid if you haven’t figured that out yet.”

He dipped his head until his breath tickled her lips. “Good. Because I don’t think I would have been able to anyway.”

Elain rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully, but then his lips were on hers again, his mouth curving into a smile as he kissed her. She sighed and melted into the kiss, pressing her palms against his bare chest. His lips were warm and soft, his fingers impossibly gentle as he cradled the back of her head, and it felt so right that she thought her heart might burst. He tasted like smoke and fresh air, and she wanted to drink him in, to fill her senses with him until he became a part of her.

It didn’t matter that they were two runaways, both with titles and subjects they should be looking over instead of traveling the world like vagabonds. The only thing that mattered was that they were together, in that moment, on the deck of a flying ship with nothing but the moon and stars as their witness.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, searching, tongues languidly exploring, hands gently caressing. And then Lucien’s teeth nipped playfully at her bottom lip, and it was like something inside her snapped. Their embrace turned hungry, greedy, years of tension being set free like a dormant volcano unleashing itself onto the world. She ran her hands up his torso, feeling the muscled contours of his rippled stomach and broad chest, before burying her hands into his hair to tug him closer. Lucien growled against her mouth, sending a shiver of heat through her.

Suddenly she was all too aware of not just the fact that Lucien was only wearing a blanket wrapped around his hips, but that she could feel his hard cock pressing against her.

All coherent thought faded along with her restraint, and before she could stop herself she ran her hands back down his chest, letting her nails scrape his skin slightly. With slightly shaky fingers she started to undo the knot holding up his blanket, but with a lightning-quick movement Lucien grabbed her wrists to still them.

“What’s your hurry, Princess?” he asked, his voice low and husky with desire. His russet eyes were ablaze like the volcano that raged over his lands, and the sight made Elain’s knees go weak.

“Let me see you,” she complained. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded- at that moment there was nothing she wanted more than to see him naked in front of her.

“That’s hardly fair, is it? I’m at a clear disadvantage here,” he teased.

Elain was about to growl in frustration when his hands moved to her neck to undo the clasp on her cloak. The fabric fell to the floor with a woosh, and she shivered at the cold air seeping through the long sleeves of her dress. Lucien waved a hand and the air around them instantly warmed as he wrapped them in a bubble of warmth.

She shivered again but not from cold as his hands trailed down her back and tugged gently at the laces of her dress. He dipped his head and started pressing a trail of kisses up her throat, all the way from her shoulder to the sensitive skin below her ear. Elain’s mind was mush, all her senses focused solely on him and the feel of his lips and hands on her.

Her hands wandered, sliding over the emerald green plates of armor on his back. They felt like hardened leather, smooth but hard as a shell. Lucien hissed sharply and nipped at her neck with his teeth.

“Sorry,” she gasped.

Lucien laughed, a low rumbling sound. “You can touch me anywhere you like, Elain.”

With that pulled the laces free and ran his hands up her bare back before tugging the dress over her shoulders. Elain shimmied the fabric down her hips until it fell in a heap on top of her discarded cloak and she stood bare from the waist up, in nothing but her undergarments.

Lucien’s gaze was so hungry that Elain was surprised she hadn’t burst into flames yet. A little keening noise escaped his lips as his gaze roved over her body, and it made Elain feel bold.

“Your turn,” she said, slightly more breathlessly than she would have liked.

Lucien smirked with pure male arrogance. “Fair is fair,” he agreed. He swiftly undid the knot holding up his blanket and then it, too, fell to the floor.

Elain’s eyes dipped to the carved muscles of his lower stomach, to the trail of red hair below his belly button, and then her mouth went dry at the sight of his cock, long and thick and achingly hard. Her fingers moved of their own accord to wrap around the base of him, stroking experimentally, and Lucien tipped his head back and groaned.

She gasped as he hoisted her up into his arms again, as easily and smoothly as if she weighed nothing at all. It might have been wrong but she loved how small she felt in his arms, how large and powerful he was by comparison. She held his fiery gaze as he walked her down the stairs to his own cabin and set her down on his bed with a gentleness that made her heart ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes soft with affection. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You kidnapped a Princess,” Elain replied with a giggle.

“Ahh yes, that’s right. And what a decision that was.”

“Kiss me, Lucien.”

Lucien obliged, kissing her hungrily, as if he wanted to drink her in. His hands caressed up the sides of her body to fondle her breasts, squeezing as he teased her nipples with his thumbs. Elain arched into his touch, desperate for more.

“Lucien…” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, other than more.

“Yes?” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

He lowered his mouth to press kisses along her collarbone. Elain’s fingers moved of their own accord to trail along the curved length of his horns, wondering if he would be able to feel it. They felt like the armor on his back, and he shivered at her touch.

“Tell me,” he prompted.

His mouth moved lower still to lick and suck at her breasts, and Elain could only moan, tangling her fingers in his hair. She didn’t know how he managed to remain coherent when words were inconceivable to her.

“Touch me,” she moaned.

His teeth grazed her nipple and she hissed at the jolt of pain. He kissed and caressed the reddened skin, so unhurried that it only made Elain more wild.

“Here?” he asked, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh.

Elain wriggled her hips, as if it would bring his fingers higher to where she wanted them.

“Or maybe here?”

His fingers slid higher still, and they moaned in unison as he teased her through the thin fabric of her underwear. She was so wet that she could feel the fabric clinging to her as Lucien’s long fingers rubbed her maddeningly slowly.

With a quick tug he had tugged her underwear down her legs. Elain squirmed, suddenly shy under his gaze, so dark and hungry she might as well have been a meal.

But then Lucien was moving down her body, pressing kisses to her stomach and dipping his tongue into her bellybutton, and her shyness faded into mindless lust.

The handful of men she’d been with had been mediocre at best with their mouths, but somehow she knew that wouldn’t be the case with Lucien. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and smirked at her devilishly before licking a hot stripe straight up her center. That one lick was like a revelation, the world re-forming itself into something new.

Elain’s fingers flew to his hair, tangling in the silken strands to hold him there. The noises coming out of her might have been embarrassing had she not been too addled by lust to care.

Lucien took his time, teasing her as if she was a meal he wanted to savor. He ran his tongue through her slick folds, he clamped his mouth around her clit, he licked and sucked and teased, moaning against her as if he was enjoying this as much as she was.

When she felt him tease her entrance with his fingertip her hips bowed off the bed, silently urging him for more. Lucien only laughed with the flat of his tongue pressed against her, the vibration of it sending straight fire through her.

“Say please,” he teased, looking up at her with eyes so full of lust that she nearly came undone from the heat in them.

“Please,” she whined, uncaring how pathetic she might sound. She’d make him beg later.

Lucien smirked and slowly slid a finger inside her, and then another, pumping in and out as he continued to stare at her. Pleasure was building inside her, coiling tight in the pit of her stomach.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Lucien growled, increasing his pace. She was so wet that she could hear the slick slide of his fingers as he pumped her roughly.

“Yours,” she moaned.

Lucien dipped his mouth back to her, his earlier leisurely explorations replaced with an urgency that matched Elain’s growing desperation. She was wriggling her hips against his face with abandon, chasing the pleasure growing inside her, shimmering just out of reach. Lucien crooked his fingers, hitting a spot inside her that had her seeing stars, and then she was flying off the edge, his name falling from her lips in a scream.

Lucien rode her through it, prolonging her pleasure with his fingers and tongue. When her vision came back to normal he kissed the inside of her quivering thighs before moving back up her body to press a scorching kiss to her lips. Elain could taste herself on him and instead of being repulsive it only made her burn hotter.

Her hands roved over his body as she pulled him to her, gripping him as if she could bring him closer still. His cock twitched against her stomach and she reached down to stroke him again. Lucien groaned, tipping his head back again, exposing the smooth column of his neck. Suddenly Elain was desperate to taste him, to brand him as hers just as surely as she was his. She leaned forward and licked directly over his Adam's apple, watching it bob as he swallowed thickly.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he groaned.

Elain huffed a laugh and pushed at his chest until he fell to the bed to lie on his back. Elain straddled him, running her hands over every inch of his ripple abs, watching with pleasure as his chest heaved. Lucien’s eyes were dark with want, his sensuous lips red and slightly parted. His red hair was splayed out around his horns, and truly Elain didn’t think she had ever seen anyone so beautiful.

She moved down his body until his twitching cock was inches from her mouth, and then she looked up at him through her eyelashes with her eyes widened in innocence.

“Say please, Your Highness,” she murmured.

Lucien laughed darkly, rising up on his elbows to watch. “Kings don’t beg,” he said with a smirk.

It was Elain’s turn to laugh. “Oh no?” She pressed a sweet kiss to his hip, and then the other, studiously avoiding the throbbing member directly in front of her face.

Lucien slid a hand to the back of her neck and she swatted him away. “Maybe you don’t want me to taste you?” she asked sweetly.

Lucien groaned. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

Elain noted with satisfaction how on edge he was starting to sound. “All you have to do is say please. Please, Princess,” she amended.

She licked up the deep V muscle carved on his hip and Lucien made a sound that was more a whine than a moan.

“What do you say?” she prompted, blowing gently on his twitching cock.

“Fine, you win,” he moaned. “Please, Princess.”

Elain chuckled with victory and then pressed the flat of her tongue to the underside of his cock, licking up the throbbing vein there. Lucien’s answering groan was guttural as his fingers came to rest at the back of her neck.

A bead of moisture was already gathering at the tip of his cock and she swiped her tongue over it, tasting the musky and salty taste of him. She sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the swollen head, and Lucien slumped back on the bed, his fingers tightening in her hair.

“Fuck, Elain,” he choked out.

Elain wouldn’t previously have considered herself as someone who enjoyed sucking cock, but knowing she had this effect on Lucien suddenly changed her mind.

He was so large that when she sucked him deeper she could hardly manage half of him, but judging from the breathless moans coming out of Lucien it hardly seemed to matter. She made up the difference with her hand, stroking him in time with her bobbing mouth.

“You’re going to have to stop that,” he groaned.

Elain chuckled with his cock still in her mouth, earning another animalistic groan from Lucien. She gasped as he hauled her up, his cock springing from her mouth with a pop.

“I said stop that,” he growled.

“You weren’t enjoying that?” Elain asked with a smirk.

“I need to be inside you right now.”

His words and tone sent her blood boiling, and when the tip of his cock dragged through her wet folds she gasped.

“Please,” was all she could say.

Lucien guided her hips down and Elain braced herself against his chest as she sank onto his length, gasping at the spark of pain as she stretched around him. When she was fully seated on him she stilled, letting herself adjust to the feel of him inside her. Lucien’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed with pleasure.

Elain rolled her hips experimentally and both of them groaned in unison. She set a slow pace, grinding her hips languidly, reveling in the deep groans coming out of Lucien.

Having Lucien inside her was pure ecstasy, like he had been made for her. His hands were everywhere, sliding up her body and teasing her nipples as he murmured his praise.

“Elain,” he whispered, almost reverently. “You feel so damn good.”

She knew then that she would never tire of hearing him moan her name or seeing him this undone. His hands tightened on her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and Elain moaned as stilled her hips and thrusted up into her.

Every snap of his hips sent a ripple of pleasure through her. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, focusing on the feel of him inside her and the delicious sounds he was making.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

He increased his pace, slamming up into her roughly, the wet slap of their skin mixing with their moans. Pleasure was coiling up her spine again, hot and fast. It was so overwhelming that she slumped forward and fisted her hands in the sheets to brace herself.

“Lucien,” she gasped. “Lucien, don’t stop.”

“Are you about to come again for me, Elain?”

Elain moaned weakly in response as stars danced at the edge of her vision. Lucien snaked a hand between them to tease her clit, and she cried out as her orgasm ripped through her.

“That’s it,” Lucien groaned. “That’s my girl.”

With one final hard thrust he was spilling himself inside her, her name falling from his lips in a desperate moan. She stayed slumped on top of him, listening to the erratic beat of his heart slowing in time with her own.

Lucien lifted her off him with excruciating gentleness and tucked her into his chest, nuzzling her hair.

“Maybe we should get attacked by giants more often,” he whispered.

Elain laughed, burrowing her face further into his neck.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Maybe we should.”

-

“Lucien! Lucien, come look!”

Lucien woke with a start and jumped out of bed, his mind already reeling with possible dangers. He took the stairs two at a time up to the top deck and stumbled to a halt. Elain was bundled up under what looked like three cloaks, spinning in a circle and laughing with joy.

“It’s snowing!” she exclaimed.

It seemed like they had crossed into the northern territories while he dozed, and suddenly the world around them was an uninterrupted expanse of white. Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, laughing at Elain’s giddy excitement.

“And you managed not to crash the ship while I was asleep. Miracles do exist!”

Elain scowled with her hands on her hips, looking about as menacing as a kitten. “You watch yourself, Your Highness!”

Lucien chuckled even as his blood heated a few degrees. “Come back to bed,” he pleaded, walking towards her to wrap his arms around her. “I’ll keep you warm.”

With a burst of his power a bubble of warmth wrapped around them, and Elain leaned into him. Lucien marveled at the feel of her in his arms, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that this was real, that she was his, after all this time. She stood up on her tiptoes and Lucien closed his eyes, leaning down to meet her kiss- and instead was met with a facefull of snow.

“That’s what you get for sass,” Elain said simply as he yelped and sputtered. “Now land this ship so we can go explore.”

“I believe it’s time for your landing lesson, no?” he teased.

Elain’s satisfied smile slipped, and Lucien laughed.

“Don’t worry, even if you crash the snow should absorb the shock.”

After several (bumpy) attempts they landed near a village tucked beside a range of snow-capped mountains. Elain amused herself by cutting holes into a wooly hat before plopping it onto his head, despite his protests that he looked ridiculous.

“You know I have flame power, right?” he grumbled. His thick woolen shirt and cloak were itchy against his back and he would much rather have used other methods of staying warm that didn’t involve clothing. “I don’t need a hat.”

“Yes yes, you’re a big scary monster,” she quipped, looking thoroughly unconcerned by his protests. “Now let’s go!”

Lucien had flown this far north before but had never walked through any of the towns on foot, and as they walked through the snowy village of Velaris he had to admit that Elain had been right to dream of this place.

They walked through streets filled with brightly lit shops- bookstores, bakeries, jewelry stores, all of which seemed to pique Elain’s curiosity more than the last. The streets were lit with strings of fairy lights and lamp posts draped with greenery, and the overall effect was merry but calm. Children ran through the streets in a residential part of town, zigzagging around them and giggling at Lucien’s horns poking out of his hat.

Elain’s fingers tightened around his as she smiled at their antics, and Lucien couldn’t help the image that floated through his mind- little heads with red hair and big brown eyes, unburdened by unwanted crowns and titles.

Someday, maybe. After he had shown her the world, they could pick their favorite spot and grow roots.

The sun was starting to go down when they wandered onto a square in the center of town. It was dominated by a large frozen pond, bordered by about two dozen snowmen wearing even more accessories than Lucien was. The pond was crowded with people ice skating, and when Elain gasped at the sight of them he immediately resigned himself to the fact that he was about to make a fool of himself.

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” he teased.

Elain smiled broadly. “Good, you’re learning!” With that she yanked his arm towards a shop renting equipment.

Lucien pulled her back towards him and cradled her face in his hands, letting his flame heat her cold cheeks.

Elain giggled, her beautiful eyes twinkling at him playfully. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he whispered, pressing their noses together. “Just keeping you warm.”

Elain giggled again, standing up on her tiptoes to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “You’re very silly for such a scary monster.”

“Ahh, so I am scary. And this whole time you’ve been hurting my ego by pretending I wasn’t!”

“Your ego doesn’t need stroking,” she shot back with a puff of laughter.

“What about other things?” His dropped his voice an octave and watched as heat bloomed on her cheeks.

“Are you trying to distract me from ice skating?” she scolded.

“That depends. Is it working?”

She was opening her mouth to reply when a very familiar voice cut her off.

“Elain?”

-

Once upon a time that voice would have meant Elain’s salvation, but today it sent a cold drip of dread down her back. She whirled, scanning the busy town square for that familiar face, hoping maybe she had imagined it.

But there he was, standing across the square from them, staring between her and Lucien in equal parts relief and fear. Graysen, her oldest friend and fierce protector. His blue overalls were filthy, as if he’d fought his way here all the way from Isle Delfino. Which, knowing him, he likely had.

A low snarl came out of Lucien at the sight of him, more animal than man, and Elain instinctively reached for his hand.

“The others are here too,” he murmured. “We’re surrounded.”

A quick scan of the town square revealed that he was right- Elain immediately spotted Graysen’s brother walking out from his hiding spot behind a large snowman, his own overalls just as torn and filthy as his brother’s. She could also see her cousins, Nesta and Feyre, dressed in battle attire and wielding weapons. Elain couldn’t resent any of them for having found her, when for all they knew she was in worse danger than before. Lucien had never taken her away from Castle Koopa before- surely her friends would have been going mad with worry.

But another part of her, the part that had drunk coconuts with Lucien and walked through a sandstorm and seen giants- that part of her did resent them, if only a little bit. For leaving her alone in that damn castle to sit on the throne day after day, while they went off and had adventures all over the world. For never asking (or even considering) that she might like to join, too.

“Elain?” Graysen called again, stepping closer to them. “Are you alright? Who is that?” His eyes flicked to Lucien’s horns poking out of his wool hat, and his eyes narrowed.

This was going to get ugly very quickly. They had done this dance so many times before that Elain had almost lost count. Lucien would take her, Grayen would come and fight him with help from his brother and her cousins, and eventually he would surrender. But what they all knew but had never acknowledged was that it had never been a fair fight, because Lucien had always surrendered, not lost.

There would be no surrendering today.

“I’m ok, Graysen. I’m unharmed,” Elain replied, locking eyes with her friend and trying to sound as reassuring as she could. The wobble in her voice betrayed her fear, and she could tell from the look in Graysen’s eyes that he caught it, and would undoubtedly misunderstand it.

“Let her go,” Nesta demanded, prowling towards them on silent feet, her trusted blade held at the ready.

Lucien’s arm tightened around her protectively, and Elain stepped back until her back was pressed to his chest.

“Nesta. Please listen to me. I’m not in danger.”

“Who are you?” Graysen demanded, ignoring her. He was still looking at Lucien suspiciously, and Elain could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Where is King Koopa?”

Her friends were closing around them in a circle, trapping them in the middle. People had started noticing the altercation, some standing still to watch them curiously, others flat out running away in distress.

“You’re looking at him,” Lucien declared.

Elain gasped as she looked up at him in horror. “Lucien!” He’d kept that secret so quiet for so long, protecting his identity to the point of forsaking who he really was. If she hadn’t known before that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her, then she certainly knew it now.

“It’s fine,” he reassured her, swallowing thickly. “It’s time the world knew. I’m tired of pretending.”

“Get away from her,” Feyre growled.

“What is the meaning of this?” Graysen asked in disbelief. “Elain, get away from him.”

“No!” Elain exclaimed. “Stop. Let me explain, there’s no need for…” It happened so fast that she didn’t even see it coming. One moment she was standing in the protective circle of Lucien’s arms, and the next she was being yanked away from him by a set of powerful arms.

“Let me go!” Elain thrashed to free herself but she was powerless against the strong arms holding her tight.

“It’s ok, Elain,” Azriel murmured reassuringly. “We’ve got you, you’re safe.”

“No, you don’t understand…”

Lucien was standing still as Graysen, Feyre and Nesta advanced around him in a circle, all of them brandishing their weapons and smiling in victory.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Graysen taunted.

Lucien laughed, a low, dangerous laugh that sounded thoroughly inhuman. Her friends froze and glanced at each other uncertainly. There was a flash of light, and then Lucien had shifted into the reptilian form of King Koopa, his teeth bared in a snarl, spiked tail sending up sprays of snow as it swiped angrily against the ground.

“Nobody has to get hurt today,” he warned, as Graysen and her cousins tightened rank and Azriel held her tighter still.

“Graysen, listen to me!” Elain pleaded. “He’s not what you think he is, I’m not his prisoner!” But nobody was listening to her.

“That’s right,” Nesta said. “Let her go and nobody will get harmed.”

“It’s you who has to let her go,” Lucien growled. “You will not win this fight.”

Graysen and her cousins moved as one, lunging for Lucien in synch. Elain screamed, struggling against Azriel’s hold, but he only held her tighter.

“STOP IT!” she yelled, her heart racing with panic.

But it was over before it even began. Lucien swiped at Graysen almost lazily, sending him tumbling into a nearby snowbank. In the same breath he sent up a wall of flames at Nesta and Feyre, who shrieked and retreated at a run.

“STOP IT!” Elain yelled again. “AND LET ME GO!”

Azriel’s arms loosened around her as he looked at her in surprise- at her tone or her words, she didn't know or care. As soon as she was free of his hold she ran towards Lucien and stood in front of him defiantly.

“Listen to me!” she exclaimed, her eyes flicking back and forth between her friends. “You NEVER LISTEN!”

All four of them froze, Graysen covered in snow, Nesta and Feyre smelling slightly of singed hair.

“I’m not going back to Mushroom Castle with you,” Elain continued.

She unclasped one of the cloaks wrapped around her shoulders and handed it to Lucien, who chuckled, smoke coming out of his nostrils. With another flash of light King Koopa had gone, and Lucien wrapped himself in the cloak. Elain realized with some hilarity that the wooly hat had somehow survived as he shifted.

“What do you mean, you’re not going back to Mushroom Castle?” Nesta asked in disbelief. “We’re not letting him take you…”

“He’s not taking me,” Elain said simply. “I’m going with him.”

“But…but Elain, you can’t…” “You can’t go with that monster…”

“HE’S NOT A MONSTER!” she yelled, her fists clenched at her sides.

“It’s ok, Elain,” Lucien said softly. “They can think what they want.” “No!” she exclaimed, turning to look at him. He was smiling sadly, his gaze resigned and haunted, and it only fueled her anger. “They don’t know the real you.” “But you do,” he replied. “And that’s all that matters to me.”

They didn’t know the real her, either. But he did.

“Are you really not coming back?” a soft voice asked behind her.

Elain turned, suddenly exhausted. She turned to face her friends, their eyes so uncomprehending that she almost felt bad for them.

“I never wanted that throne,” she started, taking a deep bracing breath of the frigid air. “I don’t want to sit in that castle any longer. Someone else can have it.”

“Ok,” Nesta said, clearly trying to sound reasonable. “We can talk about that. If you want to travel with us sometimes, that’s fine…”

Elain shook her head as Lucien laughed drily. “No, Nesta. I’m leaving, and I don’t want any of you to come after us. Someone else can take the throne. You should be Princess, Feyre. You’ve always been clever at dealing with people.”

Feyre’s mouth dropped open in surprise, as if she didn’t quite agree with that.

“But, Elain, surely you don’t mean to go with him…” Azriel questioned, looking at Lucien with disdain.

“His name is Lucien,” Elain declared. “And I love him.”

Lucien’s arm snaked around her again as silence fell over the square. It was deserted by now, though Elain could see people peering through shop windows to watch the scene unfold.

“Where will you go?” Graysen asked, finally lowering his sword.

Azriel, Nesta, and Feyre followed suit, though somewhat reluctantly. Elain glanced up at Lucien, and this time his eyes were full of humor. “Everywhere,” he said simply.

“Will we ever see you again?” Feyre asked in a small voice.

Something squeezed at Elain’s heart like a vice, and she walked to Feyre and wrapped her a tight hug. “Of course you will,” she said, her throat tight with unshed tears. “You’re not rid of me that easily.”

She hugged each of her friends in turn, committing the feel and scent of each of them to her memory. Elain knew she wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon. The dust would need to settle first, prejudices would need to be pushed aside. A part of her felt bad that the mess they needed to clean up was of her own making, but mostly she just felt free.

She walked back towards the man she loved and watched her friends walk away, each of them looking over their shoulder at her as if to make sure she wasn’t changing her mind.

When they had left she turned to look into those fiery russet eyes. Lucien’s expression was so full of open adoration that her breath caught in her throat. He opened his arms and Elain fell into him, letting his warmth seep into her very soul.

“So,” he murmured into her ear. “Where to first?”

Elain laughed wickedly. “First we get you some clothes.” Lucien’s hands wandered down her back and she swatted him away. “And then ice skating, of course!”

Lucien sighed in resignation. “I’m really not getting out of that, am I?”

Elain shook her head firmly. “Absolutely not.”

“Well in that case, your wish is my command.”

Elain beamed and scanned the town square for a clothing shop, but Lucien pulled her back towards him once more.

“You know,” he murmured, a little grin on his lips. “One of these days I will make you my bride.”

Elain’s stomach flipped at his words. It wasn’t a threat- it had never been. It was simply a promise.

“And if I refuse?” she shot back, widening her eyes as she looked up at him through her eyelashes.

The flame in his eyes intensified to an inferno she could feel inside her soul. His grin widened, so warm and bright it could have melted the snow around them.

“Oh, you won’t Princess. Not this time.”

[friendlyneighbour-aisen]

Helena's journal: Turnback Cave.

Hey, everyone! Me and the rest of the group are on the way to Veilstone's airport for our flight to Unova, bus ride has been slow so Lena asked me to share this here so we could get some opinions once the flight is done.

That place was... Scary, to put it in some way. Confusing, I hope someone can tell us what it was all about because it legit was one of the most terrifying things I've ever done.

._._._._

We are approaching what seems to be Sendoff Spring, if the directions we got at town are correct.

The path so far has been rather calm, with no complications to speak of, and if this were a normal day I wouldn't complain but coupled with the warnings of only 8 badge trainers being able to handle it... Something is not right.

_._.

The rumors about a hidden fourth lake were true, in a way.

The terrain turned difficult as we went higher up the mountains, in the end we needed help from our pokemon to reach it, the access turned out to be a steep slope, almost too vertical to climb safely.

And calling it "the fourth lake" would be a stretch, in my opinion. Sendoff Spring is almost a crater that was filled with water, which is several meters down another slope.

The pokemon population was nothing unusual in terms of composition at first, Staravia, Bibarel, and some Graveler. That was before Luke's Luxio spotted the Dusclops lurking in the shadows of the trees.

And then there's the noise, or lack thereof to be exact. The surrounding forest is way too quiet for the many pokemon living there, to a degree a concentration of ghost types cannot explain.

We'll enter the cave at the bottom of the lake next.

_._._.

It's no mere cave. The very first thing we encountered was a mural, it's old and dilapidated, the imagery crumbled a long time ago, the words weren't even legible.

We are flying blind, and I don't like it. The fog doesn't help matters.

We'll pick a direction and start exploring, hopefully no teleports we'll be needed to bail us out.

_._._.

It's been about an hour and the layout doesn't make any sense, the rooms seem to be looping and lead back into each other despite the fact we went in the complete opposite direction, it makes no sense at all.

Jack spotted a Ghastly a few minutes before, they are very likely the culprits of this confusion...

_._._._

Hour and a half after entering, I got separated from the group.

I started following a line of murals and before I noticed it everyone else was gone.

It lead me to a room with a single pillar, the images are less faded, still mostly illegible but they seem to depict some sort of prayer or ritual.

The age matches what I read about old Celestica temples that worshipped legendary pokemon, the question is which one?

Something moved nearby. My whole team is out as a precaution.

._._._.

Something is watching me, not the ghost types, it's too heavy a presence for it to be ghost aura concentration.

The paths keep leading to the pillar room, it knows I'm here, it keeps making me come here. Why?

._._._

I found Sharia just as I was about to give up reaching the center, her experience was much the same as mine, except she stirred the local Solrock and Lunatone quarry on accident.

The words at the entrance are bothering me, could it be we had to find the pillars before we walked past 30 rooms? Before 30 minutes passed?

None of it makes sense.

._._._.

Jack showed up, he apparently couldn't reach a pillar room period.

Luke is still missing.

_._._._._

We spent some more time before arriving at the entrance again, Luke showed up through one of the side doors, pale.

Apparently he found three rooms with pillars and managed to catch a glimpse of the central room at the end of a corridor, some sort of amphitheater.

But the way he described it... The moment he tried to approach it some sort of strange feeling overcame him.

In his own words "If I went in there, I don't think I would've come back here" wether he means back alive or something else, he doesn't know.

I'm inclined to believe him, space doesn't seem to work right in here, and this presence... The fact that only one of us caught a look at the center of the labyrinth, it all feels like it was toying with us the entire time, we were allowed to see it and now it's allowing us to leave.

We'll be taking it, ASAP.

_._.._._._

Our phones' clocks recalibrated as soon as we left the cave, we didn't spend more than half an hour inside, real time.

We are never going back there.

[ao3bronte]

🌈⚔️MARIGAMI HEADCANONS🌈🎀

They say opposites attract, and Marinette and Kagami really couldn’t be more different. Calm, cool and collected, Kagami considers herself to be a brewing storm on an even keel, sharp enough to strike but only when prompted. She’s precise with a sword and even more precise with her words. Vague expressions and underhanded motives have never suited her; Kagami is lightning on the mountain. Unmovable. Unshakable.

Marinette is just a mess. Silly, excitable, all over the place. A heart of gold and a body that seems to contort itself in ways the body simply shouldn’t. She trips over a speck of dust and lands on her head only to right herself a moment later, just in time to face plant into a door frame. Marinette sings and dances without thinking, applying herself to every worthy cause. She smiles and laughs openly and always sees the good in everyone.

Kagami can’t help but be suitably enamoured.

The fencer has never had time for friends, but the more time she spends with Marinette, the more she realises that she needs to start making time. Kagami’s mother, a woman she respects greatly, has always controlled how she spends her free time. Lately though, she doesn’t seem to mind Marinette’s presence and Kagami doesn’t question it. If Tomoe will allow her the odd get together with Marinette, she certainly won’t argue.

Marinette and Kagami spend most of their time together at cafés drinking Orangina and giggling at videos on TikTok. Kagami is only allowed to have pre-approved apps on her iPhone and the two of them love watching all of the silly videos huddled up on their favourite banquette in the corner. Marinette knows she likes #organizing on TikTok and saves the amazing ones to show Kagami while they wait for their order to arrive. It’s always the little things with Marinette that make Kagami appreciate their time together more than ever.

This week, Kagami proposes that they go for a bicycle ride down the banks of the Seine. She loves to do active things and Marinette has proven that, so long as she wears a helmet, the clumsy girl can actually stay on her bike without falling over. It should be a safe enough passtime, but Kagami packs a First Aid kit in her backpack just in case.

The spring breeze rushes through her hair as they fly down the banks together and Kagami smiles, just a little. The sound of Marinette’s laugh brings her enough joy that she can hardly tamper the urge to join her, except Kagami doesn’t really laugh very often. She wants to though. Marinette inspires her to try.

“This is the perfect spot!” Marinette exclaims, slowing down her bicycle just enough to hop off the seat and walk it down to a larger clearing. The shade of the trees has invited many Parisians to sit down and relax with a picnic basket and all at once, Kagami realises that this is what Marinette expects to do as well. Kagami has never had a picnic before. It will be a new experience.

“You’re going to love this!” Marinette beams, tugging a blanket and an insulated sack out of her back pack. “I brought croissants and gougères and some vegetarian quiche…” Marinette prattles on, pulling out one snack after another from her parents’ boulangerie patisserie. It’s a menagerie of food Kagami isn’t always allowed to indulge in and Kagami has certainly begun to appreciate why the French are so obsessed with butter.

“What are these?” Kagami asks once she’s sat down across from her friend. Marinette has managed to unpackage everything without dropping them, tossing them skywards or mashing them into her toes accidentally and Kagami is thankful for little miracles. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“These? Oh! These are new. One of my dad’s newest creations.” Marinette giggles and hands her the little carton. Inside are two small, pear shaped cookies with pink and green frosting on them. “He calls them his ‘Poires d’Amour’.”

Kagami raises her brow and takes the one closest to her. “Do they taste like pears?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried them. We get to be guinea pigs today!” Marinette plucks the other cookie from the bottom of the box and takes a generous bite. “Mmm! They’re pretty good! A lot better than his matcha and date macarons from last week.”

Kagami cringes at the combination and takes a bite of the cookie, chewing it thoughtfully. The pear taste is subtle, its flavour heightened only slightly by the essence in the green frosting. There is another flavour there though, one that reminds her of melon, and Kagami scrutinises the uneaten half of the cookie between her fingers in an attempt to figure it out on her own.

“It’s cactus pear.” Marinette provides helpfully a moment later, licking the rest of the frosting off her fingers. Kagami finds her gaze drawn to the carefree flicker of her tongue between her lips. “Weird, right? I’d never heard of it, but my dad always buys the weirdest stuff from the exotic grocer just down the road from us. Apparently, it’s some sort of pink fruit that…”

Kagami listens with half an ear as Marinette continues down another one of her tangents, always happy to fill the empty space between them with words and stories and whatever else comes to mind. Kagami appreciates and welcomes the sound of her voice and the shape of her words on her lips as they pour forth like a fountain, bathing her in a warmth of chatter that Kagami grew up without.

It’s the complete opposite of what she’s used to and Kagami has grown to love it.

[PART 2] >>

SEE ALL OF MY LGBTQ+ HEADCANONS HERE!

[michaelmilligan]

Peonies and perfection

My humble contribution to the birthday and anniversary celebration of the lovely Bex Jasmine, @angelscas. 2.9k of Destiel, Midam and others. I hope you're having an amazing day and that my silly little fic can bring you some additional joy!

Prompts: Fluff // Angel!Cas // Spring // Easter

~~~

Spring was in full bloom when Easter rolled around. Dean and Castiel's garden was practically overflowing with bluebells, and even some mallows were already unfolding their blossoms. It was a beautiful sight, and filled Castiel with both pride and hope. Pride, because he had invested a lot of time in the garden, using (mostly) human means. And hope, because this was the first spring in what he planned to be many in their new house.

The fixer-upper was still not quite done. If they'd concentrated more on the house and less on the garden, maybe it would be a different story, but Castiel had wanted to make sure that everything was ready for summer. Daydreams of sitting outside, lounging on their deck chairs or by the nearby lake, had spurred him on. Just sitting around the garden table with their family, surrounded by flowers and protected from the worst of the sun's glare by their apple tree as well as the shade sail they'd recently installed...

Finally, that dream would come true today. So it didn't matter if not all rooms were fully furnished yet, or if the floor in the attic still needed repairing. What mattered was that everyone was coming over to celebrate Easter – in some cases for the first time.

Dean apparently couldn't remember ever celebrating it, though Mary insisted that they had, at some point. So Dean must have been too young to remember. Of course, this meant that Sam had never celebrated it with his family either, except maybe with Jess. And by extension, neither Jack nor Castiel had ever experienced Easter. Angels didn't celebrate holidays, not even Christian ones.

Except nowadays, they did.

“Gabriel,” Castiel said on a sigh as he walked into his living room. “What are you doing?”

“Decorating!” Gabriel was invited for Easter, not so much as part of Castiel's family, but as part of Sam's. While the constellation of Sam, Eileen, Gabriel and Rowena as a quad (or, as Dean liked to call it, a fouple) was still new and somewhat bewildering, Castiel didn't question it. If everyone involved was happy, he had no qualms with whatever form their relationship took.

However, there were some pressing questions. “But why are you putting eggs everywhere?”

Gabriel finally turned around to him. “Because that's what Easter is all about. Eggs, bunnies, chocolate.” He snapped his fingers and a chocolate egg appeared in his hand that he immediately popped into his mouth.

“But-” Castiel didn't think that was what Easter was really about, but something else took his attention. “Wait, is that-”

“The nativity scene, yeah.” Gabriel chewed his egg thoughtfully, then swallowed as he motioned to the curious display he had set up. Baby Jesus was an egg, and the animals in the barn were chickens – or where those the three kings? There were two bunnies that seemed to be Mary and Joseph... “Adam said the whole cross thing would be more traditional, but I dunno. A guy bleeding out doesn't seem very festive to me. Besides, Jack wouldn't want to see their bestie like that, right?”

Though still uncertain if this was sensible decoration, Castiel nodded. In their brief time as God, Jack had befriended Jesus, as well as some other historically important figures. With Jesus specifically, they had talked about many things, like fathers, God and, surprisingly, capitalism.

“Are Sam and Eileen also here already?” Castiel changed the topic. Gabriel had a tendency to just pop in without announcing himself, which meant that he was sometimes just there when Castiel or Dean walked into a room. By now, Castiel was beginning to understand what Sam and Dean must have felt like back in the days before the (first) botched apocalypse, when Castiel himself had done much the same on a regular basis.

“They're coming by car,” Gabriel said, and added a few more chickens to his display. “Sammy didn't wanna be zapped, and Eileen is keeping him company during the ride. They'll probably be here within an hour.”

“Alright.” They already knew that Rowena wasn't coming. While she had been invited, she apparently had too much to do. Castiel half suspected that she just didn't want to celebrate Christian holidays, though maybe he was doing her wrong. She had been there on Christmas, after all.

The doorbell rang, and Castiel turned around towards the hall, only to see that Gabriel had already flown to the front door and opened it. Outside were Jody and the girls.

“Hey dickhead,” Claire said to Gabriel, who raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hey Elsa,” he teased back, and Claire gasped and shoved him.

“Ugh. How do you even know who that is?” she questioned as she stomped into the house, closely followed by Kaia, Patience and Jody.

“Well you know, I have this brother who found a human kind enough to take him in-” Gabriel started, then saw Castiel frown. “Oh, not you. The other brother making googly eyes at his human all the time.”

“Ah.” That, too, was still novel and a bit weird: Michael and Adam. Though there had been signs for it beforehand, it wasn't until the Christmas party when it had hit everyone just how... close the two were.

The way they'd made out under the Christmas tree hadn't really left much room for speculation.

Jody was the first one to pull Castiel into a hug, and soon everyone took their turn. Out of the corner of his eyes, Castiel even saw Claire and Gabriel hug – both a little awkward and rolling their eyes the whole time, while Jody smiled widely.

Then the sound of another car garnered their attention, and soon Donna and Alex were walking down the gravel path of the drive way.

“Watcha all standing in the hall for?” Donna asked cheerfully when they got to the door.

“Waiting for you,” Jody said, smiling, and only sounding a little bit teasing.

“You mean waiting for the beer, right?” Alex asked, holding up a cooler.

Castiel eyed it in surprise. “We have beer,” he offered. The whole fridge in the basement was stocked with it. And whatever parts of their fridge in the kitchen that wasn't full of food also held beer.

“Yeah, but Dean's taste is shit. No offence.”

“Full offence, actually,” Claire said. “Where is Dean, anyway?”

Castiel led them through the living room and to the garden. Even though most of them had been here before, it had been a while, and they looked around curiously. Jody seemed especially impressed at the veranda.

“Wow. When I was last here, all this was just a bunch of weeds and rusting junk. You really did something with the place.”

“Yeah, they suburban-ized it.” Claire rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her lips.

“Well would you look at that,” Dean said, coming out of the shed with a bunch of coal for the barbecue. “You made it.”

“He even looks suburban,” Patience whispered to Claire, and giggled when she pretended to gag.

Dean wasn't looking that different from usual, though. Jeans, a t-shirt, and flannel – his usual get-up. Where he had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel, though, you could see a bracelet that Castiel hadn't known he owned until a few months ago. Apparently he had worn it often in his early twenties, but had stopped some time before his first death. And he was wearing the amulet Sam had once gifted him.

There was also a ring on his finger. Not a wedding ring, not even so much an engagement ring. But he wore it on his ring finger, to make sure that others knew he was taken. Castiel always beamed with pride and love when he saw it.

One day, it would be replaced with another ring. Castiel was sure of it. He'd just not figured out the best way to propose yet.

There were more hugs. Claire once again pretended not to want one, but moulded herself into Dean's arms when he pulled her in. Meanwhile, Gabriel stood on the lawn, making more eggs appear. When Kaia carefully approached him, he pulled a rabbit out of a hat that hadn't been there a moment ago.

Kaia laughed and petted the rabbit before Gabriel set it down. Confused, it hopped back and forth, then vanished behind some flowers.

Castiel hoped it wouldn't find the carrots he had sowed.

When the doorbell rang again, Castiel went to get it.

“Hello!” Jack was there, one hand raised in their standard greeting.

“Jack!” Castiel pulled them into a tight hug. He'd seen them just a few hours ago, of course, but he would also never not hug his child.

Behind Jack stood Adam, using his own body, and Michael, in the form of the projection he'd already used around Christmas.

Archangels, as some of the most powerful beings in the universe, were capable of producing powerful illusions, including ones that were solid to touch. It took a lot of energy and concentration to twist and shape grace in the right form – and all of it just so Michael and Adam could hold hands.

Among other things.

“Hey. Are we late?” Adam asked cheerfully.

“Not at all. Come in.” As they herded into the hallway, Castiel noticed a potted plant in Adam's hand (the one that wasn't currently intertwined with Michael's). “What's that?”

“A gift.” Adam shrugged and held out the pot. The flowers blooming inside it were pink, and exuded a slight touch of grace, as if it was braided into its life force. “We heard the house is almost done and Jack told us about your garden. We figured you might want some plants inside this place, too.”

“Oh. Thank you.” A little stunned, Castiel took the potted plant.

“Paeonia,” Michael said simply.

Adam cracked a smile. “Peonies. We magicked them so they wouldn't wilt for a while.”

Michael huffed and rolled his eyes, probably at the incorrect reference to magic. Whatever they had done, it hadn't been a spell, but probably another archangel ability. Michael didn't argue though, and Adam just seemed endlessly amused.

Peonies, Castiel knew from many hours of research into the nutritional, aesthetic, as well as cultural significance of different flowers, could stand for peace, stability, and a prosperous domestic life. Surely, it was a coincidence that Michael and Adam had chosen this flower. They couldn't possibly have put that much thought into it.

Right?

Still a little dazed, Castiel brought the flowers to the kitchen, and placed them on the windowsill. They looked lovely there.

When he rejoined the others, everyone was already gathered in the garden. Michael and Adam were talking to Jody while Jack was huddled with Claire and Alex, watching something on Claire's phone and looking impressed. “Wait, that's all chocolate?” Castiel heard Jack say, their eyes wide and mouth a surprised 'o'.

It wasn't much later that Garth and his family arrived. Him and Bess carried one of the twins each, while Gertie was hanging off of Benny's leg. A few minutes afterwards, Sam and Eileen joined them.

Now they were complete. Dean had already started the grill and handed out beers, helped by Benny and a very eager Gertie (though they didn't let her carry the bottles). Castiel was still standing a little to the side, just marvelling at the amount of people they got to call their family and friends, when Gabriel pulled him into a discussion between Michael and him: How much pudding could an angel eat while using a vessel before their ability to deal with the food was exhausted and the vessel's metabolism kicked in? After all, they had heard that enough alcohol could make an angel drunk (Castiel winced, but smiled and didn't comment), so it stood to reason that there was an upper limit for any substance before the vessel was affected.

Michael argued that it must be tons, at least, glancing at Adam in a significant manner. Meanwhile, Adam seemed to at least be somewhat aware of their conversation, even though he was busy talking to Donna several yards away. He grinned and winked at Michael.

Michael sighed. “Adam is willing to try, bu-”

Gabriel didn't let him finish. “Pudding eating contest!!” he yelled, and summoned a long table on the lawn, filled to the brim with large bowls of pudding.

Immediately, the others huddled around, with the exception of Dean and Jody, who just shook their heads and stayed at the grill. Eileen appointed herself as judge and was seconded by both Gabriel and Adam, while Michael tried for a while to talk them out of the contest. Without success, of course. In the end, he stood to the side (mostly metaphorically – the largest part of his grace was still within Adam, and thereby right in the middle of these happenings) and instead tried to enter the betting pool Claire had apparently opened. (Claire didn't let him bet on himself, though.)

Eventually, Benny whistled to signify the start of the contest, and Gabriel and Adam both started digging in.

Though Castiel was without a doubt still and foremost an angel, at this point he knew a thing or two about food, and tasting it. Even now, he could taste the beer on his tongue, and while he could also differentiate the different molecules in it if he wanted to, he usually concentrated on the human way of tasting (which he had to thank Jack and their brief stint as God for). So Castiel had much more experience with eating and drinking nowadays, with enjoying the flavours and textures that he liked and finding out what he didn't like. And sure, he had seen the opposite – devouring food instead of savouring every bite – many times before, not just with Dean but also other people. But still, what Gabriel and Adam were doing didn't feel right. It was a mere destruction of the pudding, hardly something you could call 'eating' anymore.

They seemed to have fun, though, and their audience even more so. Alex had even started filming the whole thing.

“Hey, handsome.” Dean suddenly bumped his shoulder against Castiel's, smiling. Apparently, Jody had taken over the grill for him, so he had wandered over. “You come here often?”

Castiel weighed his head. “To a pudding eating contest? Can't say that I do.”

Snorting, Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's lower back, his hand settling on his hip. After a few seconds of silence, and with his eyes on Gabriel and Adam, he said: “Not quite as exciting as the apocalypse.” He took a sip of his beer.

“But far more enjoyable,” Castiel said, leaning against him. “Not that the company for all those world ending crises wasn't good, but there are nicer things to do than fight monsters and angels and God.”

Dean smiled, his hand squeezing Castiel's side. “I dunno, Cas, Adam's still fighting an archangel.”

“Technically, it's Michael fighting Gabriel. But I suppose it's still a familiar sight to see a Winchester stand up to an archangel.”

“Adam isn't a Winchester.” Michael had walked up to them, crossing the arms of his visage. It was only now that Castiel noticed his fingernails were black, as if he had painted them. Matching his hair colour and standing out nicely against his brown skin, it looked very good.

Maybe he'd picked up the habit of painting his nails from Jack (who, in turn, had learned how to do it from Claire). They had spent some time with their uncles lately.

“He's an honorary Winchester,” Dean argued.

“No,” Michael said simply. “You may mean it as a compliment, but don't let him hear it if you value your life. You could make Gabriel a Winchester though. Then again, I suppose he may officially become one soon. Well, semi-officially. Since Sam is legally dead and Gabriel doesn't legally exist, nothing would be exactly official.”

Dean blinked at him. “You, uh. Know something we don't?”

One corner of Michael's mouth twitched upwards even as he shrugged. “I know it may sound weird to say this about the angel who left Heaven behind, but Gabriel has always been extremely committed to the people he cares about.”

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look.

“Well,” Dean said. “I guess I need to get a move on if I want to be the first Winchester to marry an angel.” He drank more of his beer, avoiding Castiel's eyes.

Castiel squeezed his arm and leaned in so only Dean would hear him. “I'd marry you tomorrow. Or tonight, even.”

Dean's eyes snapped back to him and after a moment of stunned staring, the most breathtaking smile spread on his face. “Let's maybe give it some time to plan the wedding – and to get rings,” he whispered back.

“Deal.” Castiel leaned in the rest of the way to kiss Dean's cheek. It seemed like he had found a good way to propose, after all.

Though he still planned to get down on one knee and do this properly once he'd had time to get the ring out of its hiding place. Maybe after everyone had left, since Dean didn't do well with emotional moments in front of other people. Yes, it would be just the two of them. Maybe Jack, if they wanted to help.

Much like this moment, it would be perfect.

[rainydayotomes]

Reddened Love (Tsukuyomi x Reader)

This story was requested by anon a couple days ago, and I accidentally wrote waaaay too much for this so it became it's own fic ;P

I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope it was to your liking anon! <3

The request can be found here.

Notes: This story takes place after the events of Akaza's good ending. And- you are not Olympia! There are next to no story spoilers, except for a non-important scene featuring Tsukuyomi at the end of the game. -------------

"(Y/N), are you going down to Yomi today?" "Lord Jigen! Yes, I am. I am in need of more... supplies." You fidgeted with your somewhat darkened red hair to imply what you meant. You sighed when you saw the colour come off on your fingers, and hid your hands within your long sleeves once more. Jigen gave you a kind smile, knowing what you meant. "Of course. Enjoy your walk." Every 3 months, the colour that had been painted into your (h/c) hair started to fade and come out, much to your dismay. It had already been 4 months since you last got the dye needed for your hair, so today you needed to make your annual trip to visit the lone man that lived deep underneath Yomi. (Why am I the only one who has to do this...? Jigen, Douma, and Tokisada don't have to go through the same thing....) You heaved out another sigh at your predicament. As usual, Tsukuyomi had never told you why you had to do this- why you had to hide your real identity- that you were an outsider. None of the other outsiders had to hide. So why did you? The scarf you had gently and elegantly wrapped around your deep red locks swayed in harmony with the cold autumn breeze. You shivered as the wind pierced your sweater, the cold seeping deep into your bones. "A-Ah, good afternoon Riku." "May I see your pass?" You gave a hurt smile at the blue haired soldier. "Always the perfect soldier, huh? You always act like you don't know me even though everyone knows we've been friends for a long time." "......" Riku averted his eyes. "Well, whatever. Here's the pass, soldier boy." "...Go ahead." And with those words, your feet carried you down the steps and into the depths of the underground world. You rubbed the tips of your hair to shed the old dye that clung to you, as to not appear quite as.... red, to the residents with no "good" colour. You pulled the scarf around your hair closer to you, and kept your reddened eyes cast downward. Another 'gift' from Tsukuyomi to help you blend in with the red. You hurried down the main street, thankfully blending into the crowd of various colours easily enough on your way to the spa. "Oh! (Y/N)! Here to see Tsu again?" Camellia cried out to you from the front steps. You nodded, smiling at the doll. "Yep. I know I'm a month late, but I was being invited to date after date.... so many suitors that I can't take." "I'm sure one of them wouldn't mind your colour! Hey, what colour do you even think you-" "That's enough, Camellia. Let her see him; he's worried." Yosuga's voice interrupted the doll, and it was then that you had noticed he was standing with the doors open. "Oh! That's right! (Y/N)- Tsu was worried about you!" Your brows furrowed in confusion, unable to picture the always calm and serene Tsukuyomi actually worried about you. "Really? Tsukuyomi?" Yosuga laughed at your reaction. "Yes, I know it's hard to believe so you better hurry down." "Uhh... right. Excuse me then..." You said, walking past both friends and towards the back rooms. The cold, stagnant air of the deepest part of Yomi hit you like a brick- it always did when you came to see him. But today, it seemed so much colder then usual. You never understood how the things down here could grow like they do- the grass, the trees... even the spring that sat in the center of this weird cave-like area shone like it reflected the brilliance of the moon. You walked up to the lone house that sat far from the entrance to the lonely cave, and moved the curtains to the side to enter the home. "Tsukuyomi?" You called out, placing your bag down beside the door. Whenever you came for the hair dye, Tsukuyomi asked you to stay for tea- but he had never not been present when you arrived. What was he doing? "Ah- (Y/N)!" A smile erupted on his face the moment he saw you, as he stood in the doorway to the rest of the building. "It has been a while. I am very glad to see you are alright." He held his arms out, and you already knew what he wanted. You nodded, giving him a smile as you walked up to his embrace. "It has been. Sorry I couldn't come sooner,

there was never a good time to step away from the red for a day.... everyone wants me for some reason, and apparently this month it was all of the bachelors in the district..." His arms were wrapped around you protectively, and upon finishing your sentance you swore you could feel them tighten ever so slightly around your form. The mysterious man didn't say a word in response. Instead, after a few more moments in his warm embrace he pulled away, looking down at you. His hand, hidden by his sleeve, came up to push away the scarf from your hair. He looked troubled. "I was worried about you. I feared that you had been discovered." You shook your head, pulling the scarf from your head and folding it up neatly in your hands. "No no, nothing like that. I'm sorry to make you worry." His troubled look didn't disappear, however. His white sleeve stroked your sideswept hair, seeing the colour powder leave it's traces on the bright cloth. You felt him hover my your cheek, before he lowered his hand once more. "Come. You must remove the colour immediately." "Huh?" Suddenly, he turned and vanished deeper into the building- which you could only presume was his house. You had never been inside it before- and you doubted anyone else had either. Your heartbeat quickened as you followed his fleeting figure down a hallway before watching him dart into a room. You took in a deep breath, before following him into the only room who's door was open. .......... "...Huh?" Tsukuyomi was bent over something that reflected the candles that surrounded it. A container of water? But upon hearing your shock, he stood up straight and turned to you with his usual gentle smile. You could see his sleeve was wet- where he had watched the powder stain the pristine white cloth beforehand. "The water is comfortable. I assume this will be sufficent for you to cleanse yourself?" You blinked. Once. Twice. "Huh???" "I will find you spare clothes. You may leave your current clothes next to the water." And with that, he walked right past you and left before you could say a word, shutting the door swiftly behind him. .....Did he really want you to bathe? Here??? Why so suddenly???? The container of water- a deep brown coloured circular bathtub- sat in the center of a large room lit with lanterns. Candles adorned the perimeter, giving a beautifully peaceful atmosphere to the scene. Potted plants lined the area, making it almost seem like the bath was instead a beautiful spring in the middle of a forest. Perhaps that was what it was meant to look like. You stepped up to the... bath, seeing the beautifully clear and shining water rest still within the tub. You met your reflection in the liquid, ....... (.......HE WANTS ME TO GET NAKED!?) The revelation hit you like a stray dodgeball- and your face erupted into a deep scarlet. The thin wooden door shifted to the side behind you, and you turned to see Tsukuyomi carrying neatly folded clothing, placing them on a nearby bush that stood out from the rest of the greenery- almost like it was meant to hold things. "Do not worry, my (Y/N). The water is taken from the spring on Tennyo island, and is blessed by Amatersau herself." "T-Tennyo island?! I-I really don't think I s-should be... uh..." You stared at the beautiful reflection of the room in the water, trying to figure out what this ever-mysterious man was thinking. "You must cleanse yourself, my dear. This water is safe for you. As is this place." "U-Uh...." You stiffened immediately as you felt Tsukuyomi's sleeved hands on your shoulders, slipping your sweater off your shoulders. "....." You seriously couldn't understand what was going on in his head. Why did you have to 'cleanse' yourself? Why do you need to remove the dye from your hair so urgently? Usually you just did it once you got back home and then reapplying the fresh dye he gave you.... You had let him take the sweater from your cold body, but upon feeling the soft cloth of his sleeves on your waist, you instantly pulled yourself away from him, turning to him with a

blush. "I-I can do it myself!" He looked downward, a smile on his face. "So be it." The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, as you waited for him to leave. Clearly, he wasn't about to let you get out of this. "U-Uh...? Tsukyomi? Aren't you going to.. uh... leave?" "Ah, that is what you are worried about." He looked upwards with a smile, and you still couldn't tell what was going on behind that deep golden eye of his. "I will not do anything you are uncomfortable with." "But I'm not comfortable taking off my clothes here....!" "That, I am afraid, is not a choice." He looked downward again, a troubled look crossing his features for a moment before he looked back up at you. "Would you prefer me to help-" "-NO!" Your voice reverberated around the room, your resounding decline of his offer coming out a bit louder then intended. "...No." You reaffirmed, but calmer this time. "I-I'm ok." You took in a deep breath, your hands going to the hem of your shirt as you turned away from his gaze. ...Was he seriously going to stay here??? Why????? You turned around again, intending to voice your questions to the man who insisted on your bath. "Why do I have to-" His sleeve suddenly came to your lips, and you narrowed your eyes on his outstretched arm before looking back up at him. All he did was give you his usual, beautiful smile.... and that's when you felt it. Gentle, but cold fingers on your hip. They curled under the hem of your shirt and lifted it up slowly, his other hand pulling away from your lips and revealing itself to meet the other side of your shirt. Your breath felt caught in your throat, as all you could do was stand there and blush as Tsukuyomi disrobed you. (....ok. There's no use fighting this. He's always been... a little weird like this. He probably... doesn't mean anything.... by this... right?) You steeled yourself, and allowed him to do as he wished. You gave in, and lifted your arms above your head. The hair on your neck raised at the feeling of his cold, pale fingers grazing the sensitive flesh of the top of your breast. Finally, your shirt was discarded, and Tsukuyomi took the fabric and folded it neatly, placing it on another bush close to the bath. As he did so, you moved to turn your back to him, swiftly taking off your pants and panties in one motion, but the man turned back to you before you could fold the denim. You could feel his gaze pierce your back, and you couldn't help but shudder. You went to move your hands to your back, standing awkwardly, but instead you felt Tsukuyomi's cold fingers graze against the top part of your back, right underneath your neck. You froze. "You haven't taken the proper precautions to prevent staining of your skin." His voice was soft, but there was a hint of something almost.... sinister, angry- in the way he said it. "I-I uh.... I tried. But it's difficult to-" Before you even realized it, your bra fell away from your chest, and you could feel the intense heat burning away at your cheeks. "Get in." Was he... angry? You assumed that you had accidentally gotten dye on your neck when you had last used it, but shouldn't it have washed out by now? And why would he be mad over that? He sounded like he always did when he spoke, but you couldn't help but feel something buried beneath the calm of his voice. You moved swiftly into the water, sinking your cold flesh deeper and deeper into the clear bath. The water was surprisingly warm and comforting. Tsukuyomi watched as you submersed yourself, his piercing gaze eyeing your every move. You sat down on the rounded protuding edge at the bottom of the bath, your body tense under Tsukuyomi's stare. (.....he's still here.) You turned to meet his gaze, finding him taking off his robe. ....WAIT WHAT!? "U-Uh- wait a second-!" You cried. What the hell was he doing!? He wasn't seriously going to get in with you was he!? Your face burned with heat, as you realized just what you got yourself into. But.... the pale man stayed quiet, and the only thing he took off were his

robes.... underneath, he wore a simple tank top. His skin was unbelievably pale. You averted your gaze quickly- realizing you were staring right at him. Your cheeks maintained their reddened state. Your thoughts raced, trying to figure out what was going on and if this was really the Tsukuyomi you knew. He... definitely wasn't acting like it. The man walked up to the edge of the bath, bending over slightly to dip his hands into the warm water. "Did you think I was going to join you?" He spoke huskily into your ear. You felt a shiver go down your spine as you felt his breath on your skin. You were sure the look on your face said it all, and you knew that your eyes were as big as saucers. "Tsu... this isn't funny..." You felt water run down your shoulders, your neck, your back.... and realized that Tsukuyomi was moving to cover the areas of your skin that had yet to touch the water. 'Tsu' remained silent, even after your objection. You tried to break the awkward silence. "I-I.... uh... can do it myself..." You said, but he made no movement to stop. He was gentle, and all you could hear was the steady pouring of water as it fell from his hands and onto your skin. You could see the water slowly turning red, no doubt from the dye that had apparently stained your skin. You felt his hands rub into the muscles of your shoulders, his fingers nimble and experienced. His hands slowly moved up your neck, and you felt your hair shift from his presence. With his other hand, he poured water over your head, and stroked your hair to pull out the remaining red powder that clung to your locks. Finally, your natural hair colour was revealed once again- something that nobody but you and him had ever seen. "This red does not suit you." "Huh?" "No colour of this island would suit you." "Uh...." He seemed to pick up the pace a little bit, working swiftly yet ever gentle to remove the dye. "I much prefer your natural appearance." Ah... that's what he was getting at. Maybe... now you could ask him why you had to dye your hair? You voiced your question to him, and for a moment he stopped. His hands remained on your head and in your hair, and suddenly he removed himself from you. But- soon after your face was covered in water that had been poured over your head. Tsukuyomi had been careful to not get water in your face before... until now, that is. "Hey!" You swiftly turned around and shot him a glare, water dripping from the hair that now covered your face. But he simply gave you a playful smile. "Your natural beauty had to be hidden." The glare that painted your expression swiftly disappeared, and was replaced with shock and a little bit of embaressment. "What?" Tsukuyomi continued to smile. "You needed to be protected from the people of this island. And in order to do so, you had to become one of them." Your brows furrowed. "Wait... why? Why did I need to be protected? The other outsiders were fine...." Your question was simply left unanswered- but Tsukuyomi's smile seemed to widen just a little bit. The water around you glimmered with a dull shade of deep pink from the dye that you had been freed from. Orange flickered on the surface from the candles that surrounded you... and infront of you, the only thing you could see in the pale man's deep golden eye was your reflection. "Recent events have made me realize that you are no longer safe from the people of this land. So I shall be taking you into my care permanently." He said with a look of concerned thought, his eye lowering to the ground for a moment. "Huh!?" Water splashed around you at your sudden movement, as you turned your entire body towards the man; making sure to keep your chest below the edge of the bath. Tsukuyomi turned his eye back to you, and it seemed to almost shine in the candlelight. "I do not wish for others to defile you. Here, I can protect you, and ensure that you are treated with love." "...love!?" That damned ever-present smile. The one that never betrayed his thoughts. That damned, beautiful smile. His hand came up to your

cheek, still wet from the water. "I do not wish for anyone else to touch you... I shall be the only one to do so. And I shall be the only one to know your true beauty." His hand was still cold, but.... it felt warmer then it did before. Your heart pounded away in your chest- it felt like it could burst out at any moment. Too soon however, Tsukuyomi pulled his hand away, and he looked down once more with a look of deep thought, his hand now on his chin. "I know I am being selfish..." He mumbled so quietly you almost didn't catch it. And you almost missed the flicker of sadness within his eye as well, but it lingered for just a moment too long. He looked back up at you, his smile returned. "Camellia informed me that I had to find something to live for." And there it was- his hand back upon your cool cheek. It didn't feel cold anymore. His hand was warm and comforting; and you could feel the gentle care behind his touch. "At first, I had resigned myself to looking after a sapling that had sprouted. But... then you appeared." Ah... that day that you had washed ashore. Tsukuyomi had found you, and brought you back to his home to nurse you back to health. You barely remembered that time- but you know it was soon after that that he decided you needed to hide your identity. "I do not wish to lose you.... I want to protect you from those who would do only harm to you." The blush returned to your cheeks, and you averted your eyes from his. You... had no idea he felt this way. Was this why you had to hide your true identity from everyone? Surely some people could be trusted, but.... Tsukuyomi didn't think so. "Tsu..." You mumbled; a start to a thought unfinished. Before you could process what was happening, Tsukuyomi leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It was light- a true ghost of a touch. And as swiftly as he had kissed you, it ended. He pulled himself away from you, and turned away to do something. You looked down at the dull reddish-pink water around you, and your hand came up to your lips. It was as if you could still feel his cold touch. Your hand reached up into your hair, running through your wet head before bringing it back down to look at your palm. Sure enough, not a trace of the powdered dye was left. And from the looks of it, the dye was dissolving rapidly in the water around you. When you looked back up at Tsukuyomi, he had returned to wearing his robes, and was holding out the spare clothing he had brought for you earlier. Your eyes came to rest on the cloth in his hands, and.... it seemed to be similar to his. Red on white, with bits of yellow here and there. The smile he gave you felt different then before. Like.... it was filled with love. His eye was gentle as well, looking at you with affection. "Dry yourself, and I shall help you into your clothing." Again with the whole 'being naked infront of him' thing... You took a deep breath, giving in to him as you pulled your body up on shaky legs. You swiftly stepped out of the bath, and grabbed a nearby towel that the man before you had laid out for you. The white towel was quickly stained red from the remaining water and dye on your skin, but Tsukuyomi didn't seem to mind. You took a portion of the towel that hadn't been stained quite as much and ran it through your hair, trying to put it into it's usual place as much as you could. All the while Tsukuyomi watched you with that loving, affectionate smile. When you finished drying your body, you continued to hold the towel close to you, covering your naked form. Tsukuyomi moved to unfold the cloth he had prepared for you, placing it over your shoulders. It was warm, and... smelled like him. His face was suddenly next to yours, his breath hot on your ear. "I will take care of you. Whatever you desire, I will provide." His lips, warmer then they were before- pressed against your cool, damp cheek.

[ghost1643]

Melban corpsebride au

(don’t worry no one stays dead)

now also be warned this will be a seven deadly sins idea but will focus on the melban ship, which is a crack ship but I love.

So with that let's begin.

~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~

Okay so as we begin, Ban is new engaged. We see him rushing around with King joking having as much fun as can be seeing as they will be brothers in a matter of only hours. Everything seems perfect as they stand with the rest of their friends, minus a certain blond for reasons that will become apparent later.

That is the moment Elaine walks down the isle. Ban tears up just beaming holding her hand. He is just so happy. Everything is going perfect and he finally has a loving wife he always wanted..

That is until she drops dead during the kiss.

Now Elaine has always been sick ever since she was young. She almost died multiple times and was told her heart was weak for years. So she was expecting to die before she got to old. She prepared Ban and everyone she knew for it. She had a will. She had a grave stone set and even had her own funeral picked out. Yet, she never would have guessed as she leans in for the kiss on her wedding day that her racing heart would suddenly stop.

Neither did Ban.

All he knows is that their lips met for less then a second. He held onto her hand thumb rubbing over the ring as their lips brushed together. Then she got cold. Like suddenly cold as the winter air. He could hear the crowd cheer and as he leaned back, she dropped down to the ground dead. From there it was a blur.

Ban could remember people screaming. He could remember the panic as he tried to help. He remember carrying Elaine to a doctors....yet from there his mind goes blank. He just remembers sitting near her grave 3 days later watching as she is slowly buried, tears springing to his eyes watching her disappear bellow the ground, leaving him too soon.

From there, well he just sits in bed for days on end. Or at least he thinks so. He just remembers seeing her grave every time he closed his eyes for weeks on end as his brother in law takes care of him day in and day out. As he is cared for Ban builds up a wall. He swears he will never love anyone again until he sees Elaine. He is not going to move on ever. He is just going to wait until he can see her face again smiling and bright as ever. Until then he is happy to be alone for the rest of his life.

And he keeps to his word...He never loves again...That is until the incident three years later...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we open back up it's three years later and King and Diane are finally getting married. Ban is his same old self, but as mentioned before he kept to his word. He has no other loves and drowns his sores in booze whenever he has the chance.

The day before the wedding they're having the usually batchellor party with Ban as a host. They are all drinking like mad during which having fun until Escanor has to go pee which all the Drunken idiots decided to do outside with him cause fun and only real men piss in the woods according to escanor.

Once they are all done peeing in the woods they start teasing king about messing up his vows during the rehearsal earlier that day as they walk back. This goes on until King snaps holding out the ring drawing them all to try it out here then if they think they can do better.

So they attempt to do just that.

Of course they are all drunker than a sailor and keep dropping it one by one. That is until Ban gets it just as they pass by a creepy tree. One that even creeps Gwother out, which is rare. No one can say why other than it just is a freaky tree with weird branches.

Hey those thoughts are drowned away as Ban recites the vow...Except half way through ten the vows are no longer King's. The vows switch to those he told Elaine the last day he saw her as his eyes water. Just as he finishes he leans against the tree looking down where he sees a branch sticking out of the ground that looks like honey hand. The same one that belonged to Elaine all those years ago.

And slowly he slips it on the branch before kissing it picturing it as Elaine's hand giving her a finale kiss goodbye. This do course is when a few tears fall as his friends help him up to his get. King tries to comfort him walking away forgetting all about the ring until Gwother screams in terror, which is rare. Nothing scares Gwother ever after all.

Then they see the branch digging it's body out of the ground. The body of a boy who has been stabbed with a bag over his head who stands before them making them all freeze up for a few moments wondering what is happening. Then he rips the bag off his head showing the face we all Know belongs to Meliodas saying one chilling line,

"I do..."

~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~

When Ban wakes up he is in purgatory with souls who have died but have yet to move on, who are the demons in the anime. Yet, unlike in the anime they are just happy to be around and don't plan to kill anyone. And amongst them all is Meloidas, Ban's new husband who is just so excited to have someone to love him again.

Just like in the movie Ban freaks out that he's married to a corpse and demands to know who he is. This makes a soul move onto a musical number, which is just remains of the day, where we find out how Meloidas died.

He was the son of a rich merchant who fell in love with a beautiful women who's family was hated by his own. Meliodas asks his father for permission to marry her and gets a no. So he packed up some money, puts on his fathers tuxedo, steals his parents wedding rings and goes to run off with his women. Yet, turns out she didn't love him. Instead she just wanted money to run off with with her real boyfriend. So they knock Meliodas out and burry him alive, where he wakes up deader than a door nail a few hours later. Once he makes his way to the land of the dead and realizes what happened to him he decided he would rather stay in the ground where he was buried for the rest of time.

Yet, when Ban put that ring on his finger he made Meliodas feel something again. He made him feel joy and...well now Meliodas is back under with his friend ready to move on.

Ban upon finding out he married a corpse, runs off to try and find a way back up for his friends wedding. He just has too. He climbs every little building or stair case he can before breaking down, having a moment of silence on top of the highest balcony where Meliodas winds him with a box. Ban just ignores him for a bit, which he expects to be interrupted. Yet, mel just lets him sit there. He lets him think some more. He even waits for Ban to talk to him first.

Slowly Ban sits down near the tinier dead boy looking Star struck. How did this happen? Did he really marry a corpse?

"It's a lot to take in I know." Meliodas speaks up slowly.

"Yeah....yeah it is." Ban blurts out looking over the village of the dead. It some how seems more....alive then the normal world of the living.

"I...I shouldn't have dragged you here before explaining myself." Meliodas sighs.

"Yeah not gonna lie that would have helped." Ban sighs before looking at his more human looking face. Mel turns to face him and they make eye contact for the first time and Ban could have sworn he saw his eyes before. "Is there anyway to get back home? I have somewhere I need to be..."

"I...I...look all I can say is, I should have thought through my actions more..." Meliodas blurts out.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well the underworld has a way out and in.."

"I mean obviously how else would I have gotten here..."

"Yeah the trouble is...Bel is it?"

"Ban actually."

"We'll Ban, you kinda have to be dead to go through the entrance back up..unless your a death mage....and I may...I may have trapped you here...."

"What?"

"Look I'm sorry-"

"HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW THIS?!"

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW! IT ISNT LIKE I HAVE HAD THIS HAPPENED BEFORE!!"

They just late at each other for a while before Meliodas sighs. "Look i..I know it's not much for trapping you here, but I..well I got you something..." he holds out the box he is holding.

"What? You trap me in the underworld-"

"Purgatory."

"Trapped where ever this is forever and give me a box! I don't want your damn gift!" He yells knocking the box to the ground, and out tumble some bones. He jumps back seeing their the bones of an animal that slowly start to reform into a Skelton dog. The same dog he had when he and Elaine first started doing out.

Ban finds his eyes shining as the dog jumps up on him giving him some nuzzled when something hits him. Something big.

Meliodas had gifted him a dog that died 6 years ago. A dog that had died before Elaine. Which meant, Elaine was here. She was somewhere here. He could see her again! He could say goodbye or even be with her forever.

"I know it's not muc-"

"Can you help me find Elaine?" Ban blurts out holding his Skelton dog close making eye contact with Meliodas.

"I...who?" Meliodas asks slowly crouching down to pat the dog, who just loves the attention.

"Elaine..she was my wife...."

"Oh-"

"I mean she was for less than a minute but I never got to say goodbye. It would mean the world to me if I got to see her even just one more time....would you know where she is?"

"I mean we had a girl two years ago who died on her wedding day but she moved all the way to the other side of the land of the dead to be a helper to the only death mage we have down here......but it's at least a three day journey.."Mel explains looking at his husbands face. Upon seeing the heart break in his eyes, he just sighs. He trapped him here as his husband, the least he could do is make him happy.

"I can pack my things and we can start our journey tonight...."

And from here the plot kind of goes like Shrek. They go on a three day journey to the other side of this realm. They journey trying to get there to find Elaine. And along the way slowly gain feelings for each other until they finally reach the mages home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once at the mages house Ban makes a discover. Elaine has moved on. She moved on once she watched King get engaged, planning to see Ban again later. She moved on before Ban could learn a spell the revives the dead, giving their lungs breath once again depending on how long they have been dead.

And he's absolutely crushed. He never gets to see his wife again. He never gets to see his friend again. He is stuck here all because of Meliodas.

So they argue screaming at each other before Ban yells the only line anyone I know can remember about this movie. The way he says it goes like this.

"How was I supposed to kn-"

"I DONT KNOW YOU HAVE BEEN DEAD SO LONG I JUST FIGURED YOU KNEW!!"

"Ban, I have only been dead for like two month-"

"I DONT CARE IT IS YOUR FAULT IM HERE! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"Well maybe you should have thought about the consequences before you asked me to marry you!"

"Why CANT YOU GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD, IT WAS A MISTAKE I NEVER WOULD HAVE MARRIED YOU IF I KNEW IT WAS YOU!"

And with that Ban storms out to sulk leaving Meliodas sitting in there looking heart broken. While alone Mel discovers that ban technically isn't married to him. It's for two living people to marry, and with one dead it doesn't count. So he's just dragged Ban down here for no reason.

So melio sacrifices his love. He waits until Ban comes in before breaking an egg over his husbands head, whispering a spell to send him back to the land of the living leaving him alone for the rest of time.

~~~~~~~~💍~~~~~~~~~~~

Yet, Ban doesn't want that. He went in to apologize and tell Meliodas he made him feel again. And now here he is sitting on the bridge his husband kidnapped him from. He is standing here in shock before Diane rushes over hugging him tight followed by all their friends.

He's then dragged to the wedding of his friends telling them about his adventure..and realizing he just screwed up and odd sort of love. A love he might never seen again when he dies...after all he might not have any unfinished business and just move on.

Yet, now here he is helping his friend get married feeling numb all over again. All he wants to do is die and go applogize. Heck maybe even go put flowers on his body's site. Hèll maybe even take one of the photos he just walked by of him to snuggle with at nigh-wait what?

He rushes back over picking up the poster to see Mel on it. Mel is the missing rich boy Dian mentioned when he came to town. Mel has been missing for two months. Only two months. Which means the revival spell Ban learned can be used on him.

He can bring Meliodas back to life. He can give him another chance. It's all he can think about as Escanor asks what's wrong.

And with that he's off.

Ban rushes to the forest, friends hot in pursuit scared he's broken down again all the way to Meloidas's buried spot. Once there he starts the spell using his own blood, jsut two drops, for the blood to be used in the spell.

"What are you doing?" Diane panicked rushing to stop the bleeding.

"Stop! Stop please!" He yelled jerking back.

"Ban what's gotten into you?" Merlin asks trying to help.

"Please I just need to see him again! I need to see Mel again and aplogize! I need to make it up to him!" He screws crying a bit. Everyone freezes up before Diane asks what else he needs.

From here everyone helps with the spell, yet some think it's a odd way of moving on from Elaine. Maybe it's a figurative way to release her soul near a creepy branch or something.

At least that's what Diane things before the branch starts to grow skin and scratch at the ground making her scream. Everyone screams befroe Ban drops to his Knees trying to dig the hand up in a blind panic screaming that he needs help. Escanor drops near him, then Gwother, then king and soon Meliodas sits up clinging to Ban gasping for air.

He sits up as his flesh seems to regrow and his body pops back to the way it use to be. And with that he's back. Meliodas has been 100% revived in the arms of Ban. In the arms of his husband.

"Ban i-what did you do?" Mel blurts out.

"I brought you back."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why? I thought you said you wouldn't have-"

"Mel...you made me feel again."

"What?"

"Ever since I lost Elaine I was numb. Nothing mattered. My whole world was grey and all that made me think was booze. It made me feel like I was floating. Other than that nothing else. Then you came...and you brought light back. You brought beauty back into my world. You showed me joy. You showed me fear. You showed me someone cared. And it made me feel alive again. So if I have to do a spell to revive you that may tie you to me forever so be it...I just want you here, next to me...if you'll have me..."

"Oh I-"

"OH BAN! That's so romantic!" Diane squeals tearing up making a Mel jump and blush seeing all those people. They all blush waving hi before Mel giggles.

"I see you have friends you weren't lying about..."

"Oh yeah! Mel these are my buds, and guys this is Mel my...my..."

"Husband. I'm his husband." Meliodas smiles kissing his cheek.

And with that kiss, they're together for a very long time. For the rest of their lives actually. The entire time as happy as can be...

(anybody have any other ideas for more corpse bride au’s?)

[burnedbyshoto]

eternal love

— A simple love story between a tattoo artist and a flower shop owner. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing

word count: 10,505

a/n: so, ngl... this was something that blew up in my mind at 2 am a few nights ago and after fighting others on whether I should write it, I finally did it!!! I super loved writing this, and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it!!!! a lil fluff for the soul, have fun :D also uh, this works for @bnhabookclub​‘s event so huzzah!

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Spring was a season of renewal. The world is going back to what it once was in its beautiful glory. Baby pinks and soft greens illuminated as far as the eyes could see, the morning mist unable to freeze because of the warmth in the ground. 

The gentle echoing sounds of animals, insects, and more returning to regular activity, the cold winters finally defeated. Butterflies danced in the air, birds sang in the trees, and love was in the air. 

What would be perfect with love?

Flowers.

“Good morning, y/l/n-san,” an elder greeted you.

Your cheeks were already burning with exhaustion, it was only eight in the morning, and you were tired. You wiped the back of your hand to your sweating forehead, your fatigue ignored while you smiled in greeting. “Good morning!”

She stared up at you with kind eyes, her hands holding onto her cane while she cocked her head to the side, “You seem to be quite exhausted this morning.”

There wasn’t much you could say or reply with because it was true.

“Well, we finally have a whole bunch of flowers back, and with White Day approaching us, I’m trying to make sure we’re on track!” you explain, trying to fix the multiple buckets of assorted flowers that you would have outside of your store.

You were a flower shop owner. 

Your entire life, you had lived a life where you had grown up working alongside your parents. This was a family business, and with your parents eldering years and you finally back from schooling, they had decided to take an impromptu trip to see the world, leaving you behind to take care of the store. It wasn’t something you minded; after all, they had allowed you to seek all of your own adventures in your life despite only being owners of a flower shop, but it was a lot of work for just yourself. 

You couldn’t hire anyone to work at the store, after all, while you had never grown up to live in a moment of discomfort, it was because your parents and yourself busted your backs for this store was why it survived. But now it was just you.

Winter had been fine, the flowers never had to leave the store, but this was spring.

Renewal, return, and romance suffocated the airs of Japan, and your slow winter business was already becoming a quick and demanding spring one.

Brushing your soiled hands onto the relatively clean apron you wore, you sighed at the sight of the elder looking past you. ‘Was she that old that she spaced out in public?’ you couldn’t help but think while staring at her. 

“Who’s moving into that shop there?” the elder spoke up, and you hummed, turning around to follow her extended finger. 

The shop next to your family’s flower shop had been vacant for years, the last time you remember anyone being there was in middle school. Now in your early twenties, you didn’t even realize that anyone was moving in. There were a lot of men too! How you had so apparently been ignorant to their massive hustle to move things in shocked you. Damn, maybe you were past the point of exhaustion at this point…

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your eyes growing when you realized just how neater the store looked. They had obviously been working on repairing the store for some time now, the store was painted in a clean and crisp color, the brick walls scrubbed and glittering like new. It was pretty aesthetic.

 “Y/l/n-san! Please help me, it’s my wife’s promotion day, and the flowers I ordered online never arrived!” a voice screamed from a distance away, and your attention turned towards a man who was sobbing while scampering his way over. 

And even with your want to just stare at the army of men moving in machines you’ve never seen in your life, you exhaled softly, turning to face the scared customer.

“Of course, follow me!”

You bid your farewells to the elder and hurried inside, ready to create an arrangement of flowers that the customer would enjoy.

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Your exhaustion of the day never seemed to end, the spring day had brought a plethora of customers to your storefront. Many couples, new and old, are surfacing to pick out fresh bouquets together. Their happiness is charming, personalities warming and smiles ever so sweet. They always asked about how you were doing, how your parents were doing — after all, this was a tight community, and they asked about the new business next door.

You couldn’t respond to that last question, your face always burning up in your embarrassment of not knowing. There was no reason for you to not know, after all, it wasn’t as if you were ever doing anything that wasn’t running the store. There was no one to rely on but yourself at this point, but still, exhaustion didn’t mean you could miss the purchase and remodeling of the store right next door to you!

Soon it was nine at night, the now empty wooden carts that were once outdoors dragged back indoors of your store. You took count of your sales today, grinning to see that you had managed to sell everything you had put out today except for a few leftover peonies. You moved back towards the door, ready to turn the Open sign to the Closed side. But you paused when you saw three men walking out of the neighboring shop. 

Your eyes focused on the three of them talking comfortably. You had no idea what they were saying, but still, you concentrate on them, curiosity getting the best of you. They talked for a while while you continued to peer through the glass on the door, the conversation must have been lively considering that one of the men was laughing so frequently you almost wished you could hear what they were saying. But alas, eventually, they embraced, and two of the three men entered the large truck that had been parked in the alleyway practically all day and left.

Frowning, you saw that the man was still standing out there. He was unmoving, looking at who knows what with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The night was dark, and the lights on the street did little to help you create what he looked like in your mind. But with a passing car, the soft light illuminating the man with the gentle headlights, you got a clear image of him.

Well, it would have been clear had your guts scrambled into a knot at the sight of his own eyes piercing into yours.

He had noticed you.

With a loud cry, you dove to the floor, your hands pressed against the cool wood while you thought about your next plan of action. Would he come and confront you? Stalking people like this wasn’t cool in the slightest, and if he wanted to walk over and ask you about it, you wouldn’t be able to lie in the slightest. You knew that about yourself. Or maybe it was just you freaking out? There was a solid chance that this was just you freaking out, right?

Your palms sweat while you pushed off the floor, your body trembling as if you were the starring role of some American horror movie. Sucking in your air, and with a hammering heart, you peeked through the glass. No one was out there.

Sighing in relief, you were grateful to believe that it was either your imagination that he stared at you, or he just didn’t care. But still, even with the exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones, you knew you owed him a greeting. Your mother would have your head when she returned if you didn’t. Plus, it helped that the pink peonies still sat in the bucket, their petals still strong and firm, beautiful and lively. 

With a nod, you walked over to them. Grabbing the peonies, you organized the delicate flowers into a full and lush looking bouquet. You hoped that he liked flowers, and wouldn’t mind the kind you gave him, primarily because you couldn’t provide him with anything else. Nevertheless, you wrapped the flowers in a tan paper and walked out, ready to give your greetings to a newcomer.

The store felt a world away while you walked towards it, and upon stepping in front of the store, it stole your breath away.

It was a tattoo shop.

Tattoos in Japan were no longer being associated with the Yakuza, years of trying to get everyone to accept this western practice by the younger generations had finally succeeded. Tattoo shops were blooming in numbers across the country, and it seemed that your area was no different. 

The outside had large windows, and without even entering the shop, you found it to be quite classy indoors. This wasn’t at all what you were expecting from a tattoo shop! You had always assumed that it was black, something similar to the gates of hell feeling. But with the sign not claiming it was closed, and the store hours showing that it was open until eleven at night, you pushed past the doors. You were glad to see that your pink peonies would make a generous splash of color in the darker colored storefront.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice ever so softly echoing against the unoccupied room. “Is anyone here?”

Cringing at what you said, you groaned. If there was no one here, would that make you a criminal? Oh god, please don’t let that be true! But if there was no one here, why would he leave with the lights on and the door unlocked?! How stupid—

“Can I help you?”

Oh fuck, you’re screwed, was all you could think at first when you turned towards the black curtained hallway. 

The man who stood there was tall, his shoulders wide, and legs firm. His arms — which were covered shoulders to wrists in tattoos, his right side containing only black inked tattoos, and his left in the most colorful ink you’d ever seen — were defined with muscle, stretching the fabric of his dark grey t-shirt. 

A line of piercings down the cartilage of his ears, identical on both sides of his head. His hair, however, was something you’ve never seen before. Half white, half red, with an undercut and detailed shavings at his temples, it was currently held back with a thin black headband that exposed his eyes to you. He was heterochromatic, you could tell immediately by the piercing blue and dark grey eye color he held. But there was nothing to disguise your reaction when you saw the tattoo — scar? — that covered his eye like an overlarge eyepatch.

There was no smile on his face, just a quirked eyebrow and his lips set in an unamused frown.

“Is that a tattoo?!” you asked your jaw to the floor. Your fingers touched the place where the red skin on his face would be on your own. 

“No,” he responded after a beat, his eyes were unbelievably annoyed. Obviously, not at all amused by your intrusion and rude words. “It’s a burn, but again, can I help you, or are you just going to stand there and stare. Not that you look the type to get tattoos, though.”

“I do have piercings, though,” you couldn’t help but defend yourself, your skin feeling like it was burning under his gaze. “But okay, yes. I mean, no! No, you can’t help me because I’m not here for your services.”

His gaze on you only seemed to intensify, a fire and ice storm erupting in his eyes while you wanted to punch yourself in the throat. Good god, be normal.

“I’m your neighbor! Well, I guess I can give you my name. Y/l/n y/n at your service,” you try, your hands thrusting out the peonies in your grasp. His gaze didn’t drop to the flowers, not even a twitch of an eye, which only coursed anxiety through your blood. “I’m the owner slash, not the owner of the flower shop! I hadn’t noticed you ever moving in except today, so I felt super bad! Um, so I just wanted to stop by and say, well, welcome! And uh, well… I just felt bad! These are peonies.”

“I know what flowers those are,” he responds, but his gaze remains unfazed.

What the hell was his problem, you thought, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as if you were being confronted by a deadly predator and not some stupid hot tattoo artist with a bad attitude.

“Oh, cool! Most people think they’re roses for whatever reason,” you laugh, looking at the flowers, your shoulder shrugging. 

“I also know they’re the only flowers you had leftover from your sales today,” he spoke again, and your face twisted when you returned to his gaze again. 

“Excuse me?”

“I was outside when you were pulling all your carts inside, and they were the only ones who weren’t sold today,” he shrugs, his arms crossing before his chest. The muscles on his arms only seem to expand at this, the ink dancing across his skin, forming new images in your mind while you feel like punching him in the jaw. “Is that what you feel about your new neighbor? I’m deserving of day-old flowers that you were unable to sell?”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, the frustration in your blood climbing while you held his stare. “I mean, are they new and super fresh flowers, no! But they haven’t even wilted yet because I know how to take care of my crap! I just finished the winter season where flower sales are always less than favored, so sorry I couldn’t toss you a thousand yen bouquet!”

There was a silence that floated across the room, his eyes staring into yours, and you could do nothing but stare back at him. Your shoulders rag with your uncontrolled angry breathing, what a fucking asshole he was! Who did he think he was?!

“Well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that you’re broke,” he sighs, finally taking strides over towards you. There’s a part of you that yells to leave the store immediately, and an even larger part of you that screams to step at him too, throw him off his trail! But in your indecisiveness, he stands before you, taking the flowers from your hands. “Todoroki Shouto.”

“That is so obviously not my name,” you roll your eyes, your arms folding across your chest. 

There’s a small huff of air from the man, his eyes looking at you full of judgment and the smallest bits of amusement. 

“Oh!” you gasp, your hands covering your mouth.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” he tries, his eyebrow lifting again, his lip trying perking into a smirk. “But, thanks for confirming we don’t have the same name.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you from this world at this very moment; your fists shoved into the pockets of your apron.

“Okay,” you agree, your lips pursing in your horrible, horrible attempt at masking your hurt pride. “Well, I am utterly exhausted, so I am going to leave now. Have fun with your dumb tattoo shop, Todoroki-san, I am… going to sleep.”

You turned on your heel, ready to run from this shop like the devil was hot on your heels.

“Well, see you around—” he responded, your hands pressing onto the door to leave— “Y/l/n.”

The ringing of your blood in your ears heavily outweighed his voice because you didn’t even stare at him as you continued to walk down the pathway to reenter your shop. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t look back because had you, you would’ve seen Shouto’s fingers caressing the pink petals of the flower, and his lips moved to say one thing.

“Welcome.”

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It had been a week since you had seen Shouto. The new tattoo shop seemed positively overwhelmed by new customers, countless amount of young people filing into their appointment times, and the few days he had free hours. It, fortunately, did bring you new crowds of customers. Friends and couples alike bringing in the warm spring air into your shop while they bought flowers in commemoration of their new tattoos. 

There was no stopping this, it seemed.

“Thank you for your service, please come again,” you called out after the giggling and slightly tipsy group of girls who happened to be your last customers of the day.

Today has been a good day.

You weren’t at all exhausted, in fact, you felt relatively light on your feet still despite it being 8:56 p.m. Since it was so late at night, and with the knowledge of there hardly ever being last-second customers you started cleaning up for the night. But as you grabbed the broom, the familiar bell of the entrance of the shop rang in your ears.

Sighing, you dropped the broom and turned towards the counter, “Welcome!”

The figure at the door shocked you, it was Shouto. He stood there with his fingers hooked in the loops of his black jeans, and the white v-neck did nothing to conceal anything about his tattoos or his dumb muscles. 

“Hey!” you smiled, the smile on your face as fake as the festive flowers sitting on the counter — the ironies of working at a flower shop.

“I’m looking for recommendations,” Shouto admitted, his strides stopping him before you. “It’s one of my friends' birthdays coming soon, in a few weeks. He doesn’t like getting presents, but he likes flowers. I was hoping you could help me out here.”

Your jaw drops, words failing you seeing the way that his hair falls so elegantly between his eyes. His eyes are concentrated on the pre-arranged flower arrangements demonstrated on the table as samples and you cough.

“Uh, yes, do you know any of his favorite flowers?”

“No, he’s not really that open about his interests,” Shouto admits, his shoulders shrugging,

“When do you need the arrangement?”

“His birthday is April 20,” Shouto says, a sigh on his lips while he looks up at you. “I’m not sure if there was a time requirement to request things, especially given that you work here alone.”

“I do not work here alone!” you cry, your blood sparking in a fury. “I mean, yes, right now I do, but it’s not always like this! I’m just being a good child and letting my parents have the travels of their lifetime!”

Shouto hums, his face unconvinced, but he seems a bit perplexed, “Did I do something that first night to you?”

That takes you entirely off guard, “Excuse me?”

“Well, after the first night we officially met, you have avoided me very well.”

“I-I’m very busy with this store!”

“I walked out of the store to pick up supplies while you were speaking with your own customer. I saw you run into the door, trying to make your way back indoors.”

“You saw that?!”

“A lot of my friends say I can come off coldly at first, and I know that it’s true, and I’m trying to work on it. I, myself, was exhausted that day too because we put the entire shop together in a single day, so I let myself slip up,” Shouto admits, and you can feel your face beating in time with your embarrassed pulse. Why was this so hard? “I haven’t had the time to come over since opening, so I’m trying now.”

“So the birthday thing is a fake way to get me to talk?” you asked, your lips twitching in your losing battle to keep from smirking.

“Yes and no,” he smiles softly. It almost takes you by surprise, the smile seemed too gentle, too sweet to be on the face of someone who looked like they’d murder you in an alleyway. “I’m not that incompetent to know that I have a few weeks to give until I really need to get those plans under wraps.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles in your throat, and you sigh, unbelieving of what he was doing. 

“You’re kind of weird,” you tease, untying your apron for it was now long past the store's open hours. “But since you’re not a customer, I will be asking you to leave at once.”

“But—!”

“No exceptions! I can’t be seen playing favorites, the elders will gossip,” you firmly state, moving from behind the counter to shoo him from your store.

“I want to buy a flower then,” Shouto insists, pulling out a leatherbound wallet. 

Your eyes narrow, lucky bitch.

“What flower would you like?” you ask. Your customer service smile painted on your face. 

“Do you happen to have any ajisai’s?” Shouto asks, and you think.

You did have some!

Nodding, you pointed your finger towards the pack where small bouquets of ajisai’s sat. Shouto nodded, walking over and grabbing one and making it back.

“That’ll be seven hundred yen,” you say the moment he arrives back.

“The sign said six hundred,” Shouto points out.

“You have me seven minutes over closing time, it’s my gratuity tip,” you tease, grinning when he places seven hundred yen down. You focus back on the cash register, inputting the last sale into it and fixing up the computer before returning your attention back to Shouto, who was staring at the flowers in his hands.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the flowers into your hands and walking away before you could yell at him.

The pink-tipped flowers sat in your hands, ajisai — or hydrangeas — were small and delicate flowers, but they were stunning in your eyes. Rolling your eyes, you put the flowers next to the fake festive ones and went to clean up, the small smile on your own face irreplaceable as you cleaned up.

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In the following weeks, you and Shouto had begun a strange friendship of sorts. Your breaks during your lunch and dinner times were accompanied by Shouto, who was always over at the time. The tattoo shop was doing exceptionally well, and because of that, he even had other artists there with him, and just gained an official piercer. They were a great crew, all bright and caring people who often had you laughing on the rare occasions you visited his shop. But Shouto always had his time slot blocked out during your breaks, and he would come over with snacks and opinions for the two of you to discuss.

He was definitely an odd person. He was very open about a lot of things, almost too honest. In weeks, you knew more about him than some of your own childhood friends, and you had been involved with most of their stories! Todoroki Shouto was someone to admire though, he was brilliant, a person who never failed to make you smile with his often idiotic tendencies. 

He was smart but dumber than a rock.

But as the two of you grew comfortable, there was one thing itching at the back of your mind, the one question you always had when you saw people with tattoos. 

“What do your tattoos mean?” you couldn’t help but ask, your eyes shining while looking at his arm that was poised high to deliver the cold soba noodles into his awaiting mouth. “I mean, I know there’s a lot, but one side is colorful and bold, and the other is simple and beautiful.”

Shouto finished the noodles on his chopsticks, his lips soaked with the oils on the noodles. “Do you want to know about a particular one?” he asked, resting the chopsticks down and extending his arms for you to see. 

You leaned forward on the stool you were sitting on, observing the lines that created the art on his skin. You were fascinated by both sleeves, and he had incredible artwork on both sides of his arms. There was also some hidden motif behind each side, fire versus ice… But which one to ask about first?

“Can you just tell me why you have two sleeves that are starkly different?” you asked with a curious glint of your eyes. “I mean black ink on one side versus only color? Is there a reason, or was it just something that happened by accident?”

“Oh, there’s a reason for it,” Shouto adjusted on his chair, clearing his throat while he extended his arms. “You can tell just by looking at me, but my left side is what I’ve always associated with my dad: the red hair, blue eyes. My right side is something that I connect with my mom: the white hair, grey eyes. Colored tattoos are always more painful, they tell a very exact story. There isn’t any room for argument because it is seen in one way and one way only. You can deceive, and you can hide, but the truth is there. When I got my first tattoo, I still hated my dad with everything I had, and I wanted to cover every part of my body that I could that would erase him from me. Which is my left side. And like colored tattoos, he was painful, exact, and unchanging. My right side is black ink only because things become confusing, discerning, unknown—” his fingers trace the curving lines on his right arm— “you don’t know where it starts, where it ends, but it’s ever present. It’s comforting because it can change with how you need it to change. You can have other fills in its blanks, to piece together its story, but it has distinct intentions. It’s strong and adaptable.”

You take in his words, unable to think of anything but absorb his words. There’s a soft understanding to his tattoos. Once done in defiant, spoke stories of not only who he was, but who he is today. 

“Okay, so I know I’m just a super lame florist, but what do you think about me getting a tattoo?” you asked, your teeth biting into your lower lip with your confusion and hope. “I mean, I’ve never really wanted one before, but that was because of social stigma and all, but seeing yours and your friends all the time… I’m curious.”

Shouto’s brows raise; he doesn’t say anything; however, studying your face.

“What are you thinking about in particular?” he asked his eyebrow scrunching, his head tilting to the side. “Anything at all?”

You blew a raspberry, your hands pressing to your lap, your shoulders falling to your ears.

“I like symbolic things a lot,” you admit with a shrug. “I don’t think I could ever get a sleeve tattoo, so I want it to make sense and have meaning to me. Like… I don’t know a sakura blossom, but maybe not that? I don’t know!”

Shouto laughs softly, the sound pleasant on your ears while you thrash your legs like a child. 

“Well, I think I can help you at the very least draw you something,” he suggests, a hand offered out in a deal. “I am a tattoo artist, after all.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you,” you playfully scoff, your arms folding across your chest while you shake your head. “I might doze off under the needle and wake up to a walking penis on my back!”

“A penis?” Shouto repeated, an award-winning smile gracing his face while you huff, your laughter failing at being masked.

“It’s what happened in middle school to people caught sleeping! Didn’t it happen to you?”

“Not at all.”

“Right, you rich kid middle schools were a breeding ground for far worse. What type of prepubescent hazing did your school do?”

“What makes you think there was hazing?”

“How could there not be!”

The doorbell chimes in the distance and the lively debate is over when you check the time, it was time to reopen it seems.

“I’ll figure out what you did back as a pubescent child,” you promise, watching as Shouto rises with you, his own alarm going off. “But would you really draw me a tattoo?”

Shouto nods, following you out to the entrance of the shop, “I will if you ask me to.”

Uncertainty sits in your stomach, you weren’t sure if it was something that you wanted right now, it had, after all, come up as a moment of trying to create conversation more than being an honest truth. But if it was something that Shouto drew for you, maybe you would.

“I’ll let you know if I want it,” you promise, your eyes closing with your warm smile. 

Shouto hums in agreement, his head nodding once. He seems to hesitate for a bit and ultimately walks over to where there was a gathering of flowers and picks out a single himawari. Your eyes narrow in silent teasing when he walks it over to the counter, his hands already reaching for his wallet.  

You accept the change, giving him back what you owed him, and was once again shocked to see him resting the flower in your hands. 

“For you,” he smiled, his shoulders shrugging.

“You’re so weird,” you wrinkle your nose, still accepting the flower from his fingers with a bright smile. “Thank you for the beautiful himawari.”

“Mm, you’re welcome,” Shouto nodded, slipping on the beanie he had removed upon entering the warm flower shop. “See ya later, y/l/n?”

You nod, waving as he left to which he graciously flipped the sign for you to read that you were once again open. “Bye, Todoroki-san!”

Himawari flowers, otherwise known as sunflowers, always filled you with warmth and love. A flower that is known to be a personal sun on this earth without ever once providing a shred of warmth. There was no denying that it was beautiful, but you shook your head, leaving it on the table in the hallway that leads to your home above the shop. You’d dry and press it once the day was over. 

Yes, you decided, that’s how it was going to go.

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“I always forget the wedding season is a thing! Stop looking at me like that, and please help me!”

Most people would never expect to see a community staple member who ran the flower shop to be on their hands and knees, holding onto the ankles of one of the most intimidating and newest members of the community while they begged for help. Well, to be honest, no one could even consider what you were doing to be begging. It was a full-on psycho messy bitch cry for help. 

“I said I was going to help you already, what else do you possibly need from me?” Shouto groaned, his vans clad foot trying to wiggle you loose from his ankle. “...don’t tell me.”

“Well, you know what I’m asking then!” you whine, your eyes welling with tears at Shouto’s straight face.

Your face had an array of dried petals on your face, dirt caking the undersides of your fingernails, grass, and leaves in your hair, and desperation reeking from your face. 

“My parents still aren’t back! My friends are all busy living their own lives too far away to help me properly, and you’re the only person I trust! You’re a tattoo artist, you have to have a delicate hand, right? Please help me and let me use your crew too, I promise I’ll pay!”

Shouto groans, managing to kick you free from his foot, and pulling you up to your feet so that the noisy people watching would hopefully leave. “If you want the others to help you out, you need to ask them. I’m not going to force them to do anything.”

Your eyes blow wide, excitement simmering in your cells while your hands grip onto his biceps for support, and his own hands rested on your hips. 

“Really?! You’ll let me do that?!”

Shouto breathed heavily out of his nose, took a second to recompose himself before letting that small smile appear on his face. The grateful squeal that left your lips was something that shocked him, Shouto won’t lie, but it was the hug you threw around his neck that had him stumbling. He watched in a frozen trance as you stormed into his shop, arms waving animatedly above your head while you explained your need for help to his employees. He didn’t follow you in though, choosing to instead watch you from outside the shop because it was his break right now, and he wasn’t going to be spending it inside the shop. 

You returned with a smug smirk on your face, dirt-smudged on your cheek while you nodded your head in victory. 

“Well, it looks like I have a team,” you say with a mock casualty. “I am, what the cool kids call, persuasive.”

A weird feeling floods to the tips of Shouto’s fingers at your words was this… annoyance? There was no reason for him to be annoyed that his friends would be coming over to help you. You needed the help. So what if you wouldn’t be talking to him and only him.

“Persuasive, or annoying?” Shouto tries you, and the way you focused on him in your flustered state was enough for a small chuckle to escape his lips. Before you could respond in defense to your persuasive tongue, he was already en route towards your shop. “You wasted five minutes of my break, please don’t waste the other ten.”

He wasn’t sure what made him grin more, the loud cry of “you’re an asshole, Todoroki-san,” the childish stomping coming from behind him, or the cheerful laughter that soaked your tongue at your own silly antics. But still, the grin became a soft smile when he turned to face you, the shop door in his hand while he held it for you. 

“After you.”

“Damn right, after me.”

~

“You guys are actually very good at this,” you marvel, peering over Shouto’s shoulder, watching as he and his coworkers assembled the vase of statement flowers.

Todoroki Shouto, Kaminari Denki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki.

Five equally large men, decked out in tattoos and piercings, with a punk look to them sat pinched together on tables meant to hold more than five men dainty arranging soft pinks and white-colored flowers with your princess pop music blaring in the background. It was very different to how they were in their shop, but it amused you to see them like this.

They were a group of childhood friends who apparently all had the same dream and worked together to make this tattoo shop. Shouto, being the most wealthy of them, had been the name signed on all the papers, explaining the reasons why he was the one you had first met those many nights ago. 

But with five different weddings coming up at the moment, you were more stressed about getting these things done and fast. The good thing, however, was that it seemed most of them were striving perfectionists. 

Shouto, Bakugou, Midoriya, and Shinsou were all on top of it, having only needing you to explain the arrangements once for them to get it. Kaminari took two tries, but he was also very, very social, and took his time. They were a bizarre dynamic, but it was something you enjoyed.

“Damn right we are, this shit is so fucking easy,” Bakugou responded back, shoving yet another completed arrangement your way. “And why are you just fucking staring at us? Why aren’t you helping?”

You hummed, grabbing the completed vase, and placing it with the others from this particular wedding. “Because I already met my quota, and I can’t pull out the other arrangement until you guys are done.”

“Oh, there’s another one?” Midoriya asked, handing you a completed vase.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind!” you feel your face heating while they were finishing up their final vases, Bakugou snatching some of Kaminari since he had more leftover. “I just didn’t expect you guys to haul these so quickly! And well, there’s just one left I have to do!”

“We are amazing,” Kaminari says, twirling a stem of baby’s-breath in his fingers. “I can see why you were so eager to sign us to your shop. “I make perfect commentary, Shinsou has that calming effect, Deku is sweet and kind, Shouto is obviously the closest to you, and Bakugou.”

You blinked, as did everyone else, staring at the blond who wove the baby’s-breath into the arrangement with a soft touch. Wasn’t he going to finish that sentence?

“And I what?” Bakugou growls, his ears tinging red with his annoyance.

“Hm?” Kaminari perks his eyebrows, his gaze lazily resting on the ash blond. “Oh, no, that was it!”

There was a loud screech of the chair against the floor, and Midoriya was holding back Bakugou while Kaminari screeched, hiding behind Shinsou.

“Here you go,” Shouto sighed, handing you the prior arrangement for this wedding batch. 

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully, the sounds of the raging war between Bakugou and Kaminari fading into background noise while you hold Shouto’s gaze. “For all of this too, you guys are keeping me from a countless amount of all-nighters.”

“Well, as long as they don’t wreck your shop, then I guess the payment will be okay,” Shouto sighed, not bothering to even look at how Midoriya was losing ground on keeping Bakugou back.

“As long as there isn’t any blood or teeth on the floor, I’ll give it to ya,” you grin, gesturing with your head for him to follow you.

While you and Shouto had gone to get the final wedding arrangements, Shinsou had managed to get Bakugou to calm down and sit. This arrangement was simple, and there were only twelve of them you needed to make, and before you knew it, everyone was leaving, waving as they went. Only Shouto stayed behind, helping you put away the chairs and the tables, while also setting the flowers into the freezer until they would be collected.

It was almost midnight by the time the two of you had cleaned up the shop, and Shouto leaned against the counter while you sprawled onto the floor, exhausted. 

“I think,” you mumble, exhaustion fluttering through you. “I think Imma just, sleep here.”

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Shouto sighs, walking over to you. “You’re bordering disgusting right now, and you need to shower before sleeping.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone right now,” you point your finger at him definitely. “I think I can become one with the ground right now.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Shouto decided, pulling you up to your feet. Something that made you groan and press your forehead to his chest when you got you up. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll walk you to your stairs.”

Snorting, you shake your head, pushing him away, “No, it’s okay, I was just being annoying. Besides, I need to lock up down here once you leave.”

Shouto frowns, but he doesn’t move to argue with that, because it was true. 

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” you insist, smiling sweetly up at the man who was wearing one of your bandanas. 

“Okay,” Shouto finally agreed, moving towards the door.

When you got to the door, ready to see him out, Shouto paused. 

He turned to you, his head tilting, and your lips parted to question him, but before any words could fall from your tongue, he raised his hand.

In his hand, he rested a pink arusutoromeria. It was most definitely a leftover from one of the arrangements statement flowers, but it sat daintily in his hand. Under the moonlight, it was almost ethereal in his hold, and you felt a small warmth build in your cheeks.

“That’s called stealing from my clients, ya know,” you tease, the exhaustion in you dying the moment you took the flower from his hand. “I’m going to have to take this out of your paycheck.”

“Don’t pay me,” Shouto insisted softly, his lips peeking into a half-smile. “I would’ve helped, even if you hadn’t asked.”

“That’s ridiculous, I wouldn’t have let you,” you shove his arm, but he went unmoved. His two-colored eyes shining in mirth while continuing to stare at you. 

“I know,” he whispers, his gaze holding yours. “Goodnight, y/l/n.”

“Goodnight, Todoroki-san.”

Shouto licked his lips, his face wincing just the smallest bit before shaking his head, “I think you can drop the formality, we’re passed that.”

You didn’t have time to react, only whispering his last name while he exited your shop into the nighttime. But you looked down at the arusutoromeria, otherwise known as the Alstroemeria Peruvian lily. The peachy and pink waxy petals smooth under your fingertip, but it made your heart warm.

Shouto really did pick the most beautiful flowers.

But why was it always for you?

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Four ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“The shop isn’t open today, Todoroki-chan!”

Shouto turned around to see two elders watching him while he had failed to open your shop’s doors.

“Oh, thank you,” he thanked them, bowing in greetings. “Do you know why? Y/l/n didn’t mention anything yesterday?”

“We do, actually! The park hosts the summertime festival, and they’re in charge of the floral arrangements you see going on there! Y/l/n might be there right now!”

Shouto nodded, the banners that had been advertising for the said festival had been up for the past two weeks.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the two elders to themselves before returning to his own shop.

Today was a busy day, and since he wasn’t going to have time to spend his break with you, he decided he’d just move on to his latest client. Ignoring the questionative and gossiping look of Kaminari, he called on the girl who was here for her last touch up.

He’d go and see you when you returned. 

It was three in the morning when you were finally back at your shop. Festivals were indeed something of exhaustion. You spent six hours putting up flowers all over people's booths and stalls in order for things to look beautiful. Then when the festival began at three in the afternoon, you’d be in your own booth handing out single roses, lilies, and tulips to lovers, friends, and family who wanted to cheer others up.

Flower sales have always confused you. Flowers, after all, were almost pointless since most of them were bought without the roots and soil. You were gifting something that was on the verge of death that wouldn’t last longer than twenty-one days if you were lucky. But you couldn’t complain, on the other hand. The people’s faces that exploded with affection and love after receiving the flowers made it worth knowing that these dying presents had meaning to them.

But festivals by yourself were hell. 

Restocking the flowers, handling the money, trying to give out the flowers all by yourself had proven to be a handful. This was at the least a two-person job, and with your parents still not returning anytime soon, it was hard. You couldn’t ask anyone to help you because everyone you knew who would accept your money to work had to work until late today too.

But you had survived, as you had been for the past few months. So when you tiredly stabbed your key into the air, trying your best to get it into the lock, a sudden noise scared you.

Turning towards the sound, your tired eyes widened upon seeing Shouto walking out with a young woman next to him. She was tall, grand, and even with your tired, dried out, and blurry eyes, you could tell she was beautiful. You saw the way that politely and effortlessly giggled, her dark eyes warm and sweet while she talked to Shouto.

And Shouto, how you had entirely missed him today. But he was obviously enraptured by this woman, his facial features looking kind and sweet while they talked.

A weird feeling tightened in your stomach, what the hell was that? You blinked multiple times, your head muggy and far too foggy for your liking. This wasn’t your business, you thought, finally succeeding in opening your shop door. But with a strong pull of the wagon you had, you watched in horror as the top bins clattered to the floor.

You hauled the wagon in, desperate to get out there and get the remaining fallen items off the floor. You thought having eaten only breakfast today would have rendered you unable to be as stupidly strong as you were at that moment. But as you went to pick up the boxes, you saw Shouto approaching you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh, hey, Todoroki!” you laugh, trying to lift the boxes, but you were failing at it. “I didn’t see you all day, how are you?”

Shouto shrugged, his lower lips jutting out slightly too. 

“Good, I didn’t realize you were working for the festival, all day at that,” he admitted while moving to help you. “How’d it go.”

“Well,” you think about it, watching your friend take the boxes from your hands and holding them with ease despite your own fumbling. “I, um… it was hard.”

Shouto listened to you while you explained how you handled your booth on your own. How this was one of the busiest festivals your city hosted and how you hadn’t had time to relax since the festival began at three. He listened to you without making any input of his own, the occasional chuckle from hearing about entitled customers, or customers who thought buying a red rose for someone they were going to break up with was a bad idea. 

Cleaning up with Shouto with you was relaxing and welcoming, his presence was always one you received, and after a long day, it was sweet and soft. 

But while in his explanation as to who the lady — Yaoyorozu Momo, as he named her — was doing at his shop so late, your stomach wailed in hunger. Your face burned in embarrassment, your appetite finally remaking its appearance. 

Shouto chuckled, finding glee in your horror before nodding towards the hallway that leads to the staircase of your home. He had been up there a handful of times now, and he smirked, “I’ll make you something since we didn’t eat together today.”

“How can I trust you’re a good chef,” you ask, despite already making your way to the upper level of the shop, ready to stay up even longer with Shouto.

The next hour is spent with the two of you eating and talking. The conversation between the two of you is light and flowing smoothly. You’re on the couch with him, a blanket on your laps while you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Tell me about your tattoos,” you mumble, your exhausted body feeling warm and safe against his right side. 

“Which one?” he asked, shifting his left arm towards you so that way you could continue resting on him.

“Any,” you sigh, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “They’re all beautiful.”

So he does.

Shouto tells you about the special ones first. The fire on his left wrist, the ice on the right. They were his first tattoos, something he had associated with himself since he could remember, but a symbol of how they were both significant parts, equal in their fury, but gentle, beautiful, and healing when needed. He had dizzying patterns on his right side, something he had always acquitted to being his more assertive side. The designs were distinctive and almost dizzying to look at, but each pattern he had drawn, each twist and turn meaning something. The black ink was daunting, powerful, and reserved. He even admitted to letting his friends color in the spaces where you could still see his pale flesh, it was something that he enjoyed because even being as old as he was, the childlike entertainment never left when someone did it.

His left side was stunning though, every color in the rainbow melting and mixing on his skin. This side was artistic, bold, a creation of vibrant dreams, and they warmed you up while he explained every secret behind them. He was scary on this side if you couldn’t find the outlines of each clashing drawing, but up close, with your breath gently warming his skin while you peered at his skin, you realized just how gentle it really was. It wasn’t scary or overwhelming. It was quiet, warm, and a soft gesture to who he used to be, and who he was now.

The two of you were close friends, nothing could ever say otherwise, but as the two of you lay on the couch together, you positioned between his legs, your head laying on his chest. Sleep was a mere kiss away when you snuggled into his chest, your finger pressing against the t-shirt he wore.

“I think I’m ready… for you to draw me up a tattoo… do you think you can surprise me, though? I have no ideas…” you mumbled into his chest.

“Of course,” Shouto responded back, and before you could blink, the world turned dark, sleep consuming you in a gentle embrace. 

You weren’t sure if you imagined the feel of his soft lips on your forehead, but when you woke up the next morning, you were alone. The blanket was tucked around you, pillows resting under your head, and a flower sat on the coffee table before you.

A kaneshon.

A carnation.

Your cheeks warmed at the sight of it, knowing immediately that it was left behind by Shouto. Grabbing the flower within your fingers, you pressed the sweet-smelling flower to your nose. If he continued doing this, there was no stopping the way you felt towards him.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Five ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Two weeks later.

“So, what do you think of this?”

You were sitting in Shouto’s private room where he had his tattoo appointments, you were by the wall, sitting on a stool by a desk where he was showing off his tattoo design for you. It was stunning; honestly, it had everything in the world that you could be asking for.

Simple, elegant, and sophisticated.

It fit your personality, hopes, and dreams. 

It was perfect. 

“Wow,” you barely managed to breathe, your fingers touching the sketch he had presented to you. Was feeling it okay? You hoped so.

“Do you… do you like it?” Shouto asked, his eyes trying to read your face, but failed to see how you reacted because he was behind you.

“This is amazing, Todoroki,” you shake your head, pulling back to stare at your friend with a great smile. “I mean, I know I said I wanted you to draw me one, but I wasn’t expecting you to make it so… personalized to me.”

“...you’re special to me,” Shouto admitted, his body both relaxing and tensing under your gaze. “I had to make this special for you.”

“Well, you sure did!” you agree with a laugh, your cheeks warm with your grin. “But how much will this be?”

“4,000 yen,” Shouto answered with a straight face.

You laughed in his face, remembering that all their starting prices were much more than that, “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. How much?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Shouto confirms, his gaze unwavering. “I like you a lot, and you mean a lot to me, so I’m giving you a discount.”

Your jaw drops, you’re unable to speak, words failing you with every breath. “A discount, not a free tattoo.”

“It’s not free, I’m still making you pay.”

“Yeah, and even I know that price is absurd!”

The two of you argue for some time, the money you throw down on his desk is immediately slammed back into your wallet. You feel close to victory; that is, until Shouto threatens to make your tattoo actually free. To that, your lips twist, a defeated look in your eyes while you huff.

“Fine,” you spat, turning around ready to leave the shop, given that your break was nearing its end. 

“Y/n,” he calls out suddenly, and the way that your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver. He had started to call you by your given name as of late, and to hear his warm and deep voice say your name made you wonder why you two hadn’t done this earlier. After all, the two of you were too close. 

“Shouto?”

He looks ready to speak, his tongue wetting his lips while he stares at you, unsure what to say to what to do.

“What did you think of the kaneshon?”

Two weeks later and he had finally spoken about the flower he had left behind.

“It was beautiful, I loved it,” you smiled in return, but you didn’t miss the way that his eyes seemed to cloud at those words. Obviously, those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, but what was it that he wanted? “Another flower to add to my collection.”

Shouto’s lips quirk into a smile, and you watch while he reaches behind his bench and pulls out a tsubaki. You’re silent as he walks it over to you, pressing the gentle stem into your hand.

“For you,” he whispers, and you can feel your heart hammering in your ears at how close he is. The dim lights of his room, the smell of ink, bleach, and, most importantly, Shouto sending your blood into a craze. 

Kiss him, your brain told you, but you were frozen, too busy counting the number of eyelashes he had. 

“You didn’t buy this from me, what are you doing helping my competition?” were the words that came to your mouth instead of the confession you so wanted to give.

“No,” Shouto laughs softly, and he adjusts his position almost to give you dizzying fantasies of him kissing you. “I’m growing them, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re my competition,” you tease, and Shouto sighs, his eyes rolling and nods.

“Yeah, the tattoo shop was a decoy to us becoming the best flower shop in all of Japan.”

“Sounds like I should be worried.”

“Oh, you should.”

There was no denying the fact that the distance between your bartering lips was disappearing, but the shrill beep of your alarm destroyed the space between the two of you as you stepped away. You had an appointment to get to after all.

“Um, dinner?” you ask, stumbling to the door. “Sounds good?”

Shouto nods, his lips in a small smile, “See you then.”

With the camellia clenched tightly into your hands, your blood boiling in your destroyed passions, and the sounds of the others saying goodbye while you left, you felt weird when entering your flower shop, one thought running repetitively in your mind. 

You had feelings for Shouto.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Six ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You twirled the akaichurippu in your fingers.

It had been two months since you worked out you had feelings for Shouto, one week since he had given you this flower, six days since he started avoiding you, and two days since your parents had finally returned home.

With the three of you now running the shop, you were able to relax a whole bunch more. Your parents had returned on a honeymoon mode, their gazes wistful and in love, finding it almost hard to readjust to the life they had left behind for a year. It had been a year since you had met Todoroki Shouto, and you were baffling in love with him. But you had done something obviously because he was avoiding you like the plague.

He hadn’t been over in six days, and they had been such lonely days without him. Of course, once your parents had come home, it had been grossly lively with their romantic sighs and glees, but it didn’t do much to qualm the Shouto sized hole in you. 

Stupid Shouto, stupid feelings, stupid everything.

Tossing the flower onto the counter, you sat up from your slumped state, watching as your dad swung your mom in a circle. Stupid parents with their stupid love, you bitterly added while puffing out your cheeks.

“Wow, what’s that look for!” your dad caught on immediately, staring at your unamused form. He trailed his gaze down to the red akaichurippu, otherwise known as the red tulip, while your mother stood up herself.

There was a shocked gasp coming from them both, and you watched as your parents approached the counter like excited children, the flower being picked up by your mother.

“Who gave you this?!” your mother asked, her eyes sparkling in glee, and your dad seemed conflicted in the same delight, and distinctive stern dad look. 

“Shouto,” you sighed, your eyes rolling.

“The one that’s ignoring you?”

“The very same!”

“That’s strange,” your dad’s eyebrows furrowed, his head tilting. “He’s just next door, and he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon… why is he ignoring you after giving you the eternal love flower?”

You froze.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“The red akaichurippu flower is the symbol of eternal love,” your mom explained as if it was basic knowledge. “They’re much more romantic than a boring red rose, in my opinion. You’re also a florist y/n, why don’t you know these meanings or intentions?”

“Oh my god,” you said in horror, and you stood up, racing upstairs to grab the flowers you had dried and pressed. The flowers he had given you throughout this year.

Your parents were shocked when you slammed down the book with flowers, your fingers shaking excessively.

“What do these mean,” you demand, your fingers shaking while you point at the different flowers.

“Ajisai: apologies and gratitude.”

“Himawari: adoration, loyalty, and longevity.”

“Arusutoromeria: devotion, loyalty, ‘I like you,’ friendship.”

“Pink kaneshon: affection.”

“Tsubaki: humility, discretion, and perfect love.”

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

“I have to go!” you yelled, racing out of the store, the ringing bell and following shouts of your parents doing nothing as you ran into the tattoo shop.

“Shinsou!” you called at the purple-haired man who was staffing the front desk, obviously having no scheduled appointments today. “Is Shouto—?”

“No, he’s taking his break right now,” Shinsou smirked, his eyes full of amusement, which spoke to his knowledge of what was going on. “You can go in.”

You smiled and went down the hallways of the tattoo shop that you knew intimately. You could hear the buzzing of the tattoo guns going off in Bakugou and Midoriya’s rooms, the light chatter that came with passing Kaminari’s room until you made it to Shouto’s room.

It was quiet inside, and as you opened the door to step inside, the flower in your hand feeling heavier than lead when you saw Shouto sitting at his desk, eating cold soba slowly.

“Shouto?” you called, and Shouto didn’t move, obviously ignoring you. 

“Come on, don’t ignore me,” you plead, moving towards the bench only to have him turn towards you, his eyes blank, cold, angry, and burning through you when he faced you. So maybe he wasn’t ignoring you? “Okay, uh, thank you for looking at me, but I need to explain something to you!”

“Make it quick, my break’s done in two minutes.”

A cold sweat erupts in your body, and you thrust the red tulip out.

“Eternal love,” you say quickly, your body shivering at that statement, and Shouto looks at you, then at the flower, then back at you. 

“Yeah, I knew that already, idiot.”

Your jaw drops, and the smallest bits of annoyance pricks at you. You often forgot what it was like to be under his calculating words and not being at his side, laughing at the victims of his words. 

“Okay, well, I didn’t,” you continue on, your fists dropping at your side, annoyance, fear, happiness, and love flooding through your body. “I’m a florist, I know that. I have lived my life as the child of florists, and I have taken on their trade, but one thing I never knew about was flower meanings.”

“What?”

You shake your head, your gaze dropping to the flower in your embarrassment, “I’ve never known any flower meaning outside of funeral flowers, the red rose, and spider lilies, but that’s because of the culture behind it, not necessarily because of the language of flowers. And I was mad at you today, so I had this flower out, and my parents who do know about flower language told me what this meant, and every other flower you’ve bought for me… I didn’t realize you were confessing to me using flowers… I didn’t ever expect a tattoo artist to know the meanings! Had you been a florist yourself, then maybe I would have thought to look up the meanings behind the flowers, but I just assumed it was you picking flowers out because they were pretty.”

“Flower tattoos are popular,” Shouto breathes, his eyes swimming with flashing emotions while he rises to his feet. “It’s sort of my job to know the difference. I mean… you brought over peonies that first night, and they’re a flower you use to welcome other people, so I figured you knew.”

“No,” you laugh breathlessly. “I only picked those out because they were the only flowers I had leftover from that day… I guess you would make an amazing florist after all,” you chuckle, your heart hammering in your whole being while he stepped closer to you. “I’m a blunt person, straightforward confessions are the only way to deal with me.”

“Most blunt confessions have always ended with rejection from me,” Shouto states, his fingers grabbing onto your waist. “That tends to scare people off.”

“Try it with me,” you whisper, your fingers resting on his broad shoulders, the shiver under your skin electrifying as you knew what was happening.

“I’m in love with you, y/l/n y/n,” Shouto grinned, and you didn’t give yourself a chance at responding because you slammed your lips against his.

It was a passionate kiss, one that had your back arched into him, the flower falling from your fingers and onto the floor. Heads tilted with your dancing lips, and fuck was every gentle caress of his lips, sending your mind in a whirl.

More and more, your lips slanted against each other, and there was no say as to what was going to happen next. You pulled away, a galaxy in both your eyes and a desire, a promise for more when he would meet your lips again.

“Shouto, your three o’clock is here!”

The two of you froze, and you laughed, your lips meeting his that sought after yours for the kiss was too short.

“We’ll talk later.”

[aethes-bookshelf]

three times you’d met & a fourth you remembered || Mirio/Reader

This took me SO LONG to finish and I don’t even know why. Also it’s 3 am where I live and I should be asleep. Do with that what you will.

Quoting the great @readwithcindy:

Bone Apple Titty.

Pairing: Mirio x Reader

Warnings: none, this is just pure fluffy goodness

AO3 link

The weather was unusually good for a late fall afternoon; the sun was still out, the birds were chirping and there was this nice breeze – not too cold, not too warm. School kids had just finished their club activities and were on their way to their homes. Some were walking with friends, some alone, but all of them were happy about the next few hours of complete freedom. Mirio wasn’t an exception. He hummed cheerfully while walking down the street. He was strangely happy, even for himself. But how could he not be, when his classes went well, he had fun with the people from his club and he started getting a better grip on how exactly his Quirk worked. It had been a great day, for better or for worse.

Mirio noticed a single orange butterfly – probably one of the last of the year. It fluttered around right above Mirio’s head. He stopped to look at it. The grin on his face just got bigger.

But apparently his happiness wasn’t something to cherish to some people. Mirio’s upperclassman, a guy slightly taller and stockier than him, bumped right into him despite the street around them being relatively empty; then he grumbled something about 'stupid second-years'.

Mirio’s bag tumbled to the ground. He stared at it for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. Such a small thing ruining his day? Never. That wouldn’t be his style at all. He could never be a hero who’d save a million people if he let some stupid jerk ruin his good mood.

He leaned down to pick up his school bag, and his fingers brushed someone else’s. That mysterious someone was also trying to pick up his bag. They had a bright orange bracelet on their wrist; but their uniform was a deep shade of green. Interesting combination, Mirio thought.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

'Pretty good! Oh, and sorry for that guy. He pretends to be all tough, but he’s a sweetheart deep inside.' The girl in front of him was speaking really fast. She was still holding his bag, gesturing wildly with her free hand.

'I’m not a sweetheart' mumbled the guy behind her.

'Yes you are, Keiki!' she turned back to Mirio. 'The girl he likes rejected him today, so he’s in a bad mood.'

'Why’d you tell him that?!'

'Because you owe him an apology for just bumping into him like that.'

'No problem.' Mirio shrugged slightly, still smiling. 'I don’t let stuff like that get to me.'

'That’s good.' She smiled back. 'I wish I could say the same thing.'

They finally got up. She passed Mirio his bag.

'Well then, have a good day,' she said.

'Thanks, you too!'

She hurried after her friend. They both were out of sight just as quickly as they’d appeared.

Mirio was beaming. He knew his day was still a good one. And now that a cute girl had helped him pick up his bag – even though he was perfectly capable of doing that himself – it started to change into a great one.

The orange butterfly fluttered above Mirio’s head.

* * *

It was Mirio’s first day at U.A. The welcoming ceremony had just finished, and he was walking back home.

Tamaki was right by his side, flustered by all the attention they had gotten from their new classmates. And while he had a small, subtle smile dancing on his lips, Mirio was sporting the biggest grin; he didn't think he’d ever smiled that much in his life.

‘I can’t believe we’re finally starting our hero course for real. And we’re in the same class!’ Mirio said. There was a spring to his step. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I knew we’d both make it, but it still seems unreal, you know? It’s like a dream come true! Well, not that it isn’t…' Mirio laughed sheepishly. 'I’m rambling again, sorry.’

A small, orange butterfly flew right behind them.

‘It’s okay. I like hearing you talk,’ said Tamaki. ‘It’s pretty amazing how much you can say without running out of things to talk about. I wish I could do that.’

‘Oh, don’t sulk, Tamaki! I’m sure you’ll learn. Besides, it’s not like you never know what to say, you’re just afraid of talking too much.’

‘It’s not… I…’ Tamaki stuttered a bit. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said.

Mirio laughed a bit.

‘You worry too much. People like you, I mean it. You’re cute and talented, and you’re a genuinely good person. You just have to give yourself a chance.’

‘It’s easy for you to say. You already shine so brightly it’s blinding. You’re going to become the hero everybody wants to be. And me…’

Mirio stopped walking. He looked way more serious now. He took Tamaki by the shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes.

‘Listen – if not to yourself, then to me. I’ve told you many times, you’re great! And you’re going to become an even greater hero. Do you trust me enough to believe that?’

Tamaki looked away and nodded slightly.

‘That’s the spirit! Now come on, we have to celebrate. How about we get some ramen, huh? What do you say?’ Mirio wrapped an arm around Tamaki’s shoulder.

‘I’ve heard that a new ramen place opened somewhere around here,’ said Tamaki. ‘Maybe we could eat there? If you wanted to…’

‘Sure!’ said Mirio. He looked around the street. ‘Where exactly is it?’

‘It should be somewhere straight ahead.’

‘Alright. Do you know what it’s called?’ asked Mirio. ‘Probably something to do with ramen. Maybe something simple like… Wait a minute!’

‘Wait a minute?’

‘No!’ Mirio leaned forward. ‘Isn’t that one of our senpais?’

He pointed towards a huge guy wearing a U.A. uniform. He was towering over a girl in a dark green uniform Mirio didn’t recognise. It seemed like she was teasing the guy; he was blushing like crazy. But even though he was embarrassed, he seemed happy. And so did she. Her face was split by the biggest, brightest smile he’d ever seen. He felt his heart skip a beat.

‘And who’s that girl? She’s really cute!’

‘Mirio!’ Tamaki whisper-yelled. ‘You shouldn’t say that so loudly. They might hear!’

As if on cue the big guy glared at them, but the girl didn’t seem to mind, so he kept on walking.

Mirio heard her talking really, really fast.

‘I mean, if you want to buy that plushie then buy it. Those jerks from your class shouldn’t stop you. Just because they’re too cowardly to admit they like cute stuff too doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it. Besides,’ she lightly elbowed her friend’s side ‘there’s nothing more manly than challenging stupid stereotypes like this one. 'Guys can’t like plushies'. BS, I say!’ She was gesturing wildly. There was an orange bracelet on her wrist.

The guy sighed heavily.

‘I guess you’re right’.

‘See? Now let’s go get you that plushie, Keiki!’

‘I’m gonna talk to them,’ said Mirio.

‘What?’ Tamaki looked genuinely frightened.

‘I’ll go talk to them.’

‘What? No, Mirio, wait!’

But Mirio was already leaving. He approached the pair and smiled.

‘Hello!’

Keiki glared. ‘What do you want?’

‘Don’t be rude!’ said the girl.

‘It’s fine!’ Mirio chuckled. ‘I just wanted to ask about this new ramen restaurant that opened somewhere around here. Do you happen to know where it is? My friend,’ he gestured towards Tamaki, who looked like he wanted to die ‘and I completely forgot it’s name and now we’re lost.’

‘We don’t know any restaurants. Go away,’ said Keiki.

‘But Keiki, isn’t it that one ramen shop we went to last week?’

Now it was Keiki’s turn to wish for death.

‘Were you planning to go to 'Silver Dragon'?’ she asked Mirio.

‘'Silver Dragon'... Yes! Thank you for reminding me.’

‘It’s just down the street to the right. It has a big silver dragon on its front. You can’t miss it.’

‘Again, thank you. Have a nice day!'

‘You too!’

They left. Mirio came back to Tamaki.

‘She was so cute!’ Mirio sighed. ‘I should’ve asked for her number.’

Tamaki only looked down and muttered something under his breath.

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing. Let’s just go.’

* * *

The first semester passed by way too quickly for Mirio’s liking. Three months gone, just like that. A part of him knew he was falling behind his classmates. Everyone’s Quirks were great; he felt a bit out of place with how simple his own was. Not that Mirio didn’t know how to use it – he pretty much mastered all the basics and even some of the more advanced moves. The problem was that even after all this time, he couldn’t figure out how to phase through stuff only partially. He was quite sick of literally pummeling into the ground because he tried to make his arm phase through a wall. Mistakes like this had gotten pretty embarrassing during class; especially if he’d happened to be wearing sweats instead of his usual hero costume. He’d laugh and joke his way out of the majority of those situations, but he was slowly getting fed up with making the same dumb mistake over and over again.

For the first time in a while, Togata Mirio was frustrated.

He’d asked one of his friends from the support department for a simple tracksuit made from the same material as his hero costume. He’d been taking it to the nearest park ever since he got it. Mirio would go there every evening – no exceptions – and train well into the night. Most of that time was spent just phasing through everything he could find; from trees and benches to bigger rocks. He’d usually focus on a specific body part. Somedays he’d use just his hand or arm, or calfs. He’d worked himself into exhaustion more times than he could count.

Tonight wasn't any different. He started with just a few laps around the park. He made it a point of honor for himself to do all of them without stopping or slowing down. He ended up slightly out of breath, but proud. And so, after going through about one third of his water supply, he moved onto the real thing.

His regime was so repetitive it was almost boring. Tonight Mirio was supposed to focus on gaining better control of his quirk in his upper body – mostly shoulders up. He knew he looked silly with his head constantly popping out of random trees, but he kept going. He started to notice that with each rep his feet would stink less and less into the ground. He couldn't help but smile.

And then he nearly rammed his head into someone's shoulder after phasing through a particularly old tree.

It turned out that person was a girl. She shrieked to high heavens and jumped away. The big black dog she had on a leash started barking.

'Ah, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you,' said Mirio. He ignored the warmth in his cheeks. 'You see, I was just training my Quirk control.'

'It's fine don't worry,' she said after a minute or two.. She scratched behind her dog's ear to calm him down.

Mirio noticed a bright orange bracelet on her wrist. He’d definitely seen it somewhere before.

'You just surprised me, that’s all,’ she finished.

Then there was a long, painfully awkward silence. 

Mirio took the opportunity to discreetly get a better look at the girl. There was something familiar about her – something in her posture and the glint in her eye, but he couldn't exactly put a finger on what it was.

And then she smiled, and Mirio felt like something almost clicked into place in his brain.

'You seem familiar, you know? Like I've seen you somewhere before,' he said.

'Really?' she furrowed her brows.

'Really.' It was Mirio's turn to smile. 'Maybe we're going to the same school and just haven't talked before?'

'I don't think so… I would've remembered someone like you.' She flashed that smile again. 'Which school do you go to?'

'U.A.' Mirio pretended her remark didn't make him blush even more. He was probably overthinking it. Someone as loud as him wasn’t hard to miss. She definitely meant that, nothing more.

Her expression changed.

'My friend goes there too! I walk him home sometimes. You must have seen me then.'

Mirio hummed lightly. His brain was working overtime to remember where – or at least when – he'd seen her, but there was nothing. It felt like he was missing just one crucial detail that would complete the picture. Who was her friend again?

A small orange butterfly sat on her dog’s nose. He sneezed. The girl gently patted his head.

'You're probably right,' he finally said with a casual smile. 'Well, I won't take any more of your time. But remember, the next time you come to pick up your friend, I'll find you, and you'll have to talk to me again.'

She chuckled.

'Is that a threat or a promise?'

'Maybe a little bit of both.’ Mirio suddenly felt sheepish. This wasn’t like him. ‘But don't worry, I'm just kidding.'

There was a playful glint in her eyes.

'Well… If you're going to keep that threat-o'-promise, then look for a dark green uniform next time you're at school!'

'Dark green, huh?' Mirio cocked a brow. Not remembering where he’d seen her before was getting frustrating. Maybe it was a ramen shop? 'I surely will. Have a nice day!'

'You too.' 

And just like that, she was gone.

Mirio went back to his training, but he couldn't focus anymore. His feet kept sinking into the ground.

* * *

The hot summer sun knew no mercy, and Mirio was starting to regret choosing such a thick material for his costume. Sure, it was necessary for protection and the big not-fighting-naked thing but wearing it got nearly unbearable during the scorching hot summer time.

He’d been patrolling for the better part of two hours now and the heat was starting to really get to him. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his palms felt like the Niagara Falls. Mirio silently thanked Sir Nighteye for distracting him via checking up on him every half an hour. It made it all easier to ignore how gross he felt – at least a bit. Plus it made sense to be checking up on him so frequently; this was only his second patrol ever. And, just like on the first, everything was calm. Almost weirdly calm. Like Sir purposefully sent him to this part of town to make sure he’d come back without a scratch. He could’ve as well done that, given his foresight and all.

And then Mirio heard an explosion.

Spoke too soon.

'No!' someone screamed.

A huge, slimy villain emerged from the corner. He was holding a girl. Her bag slipped off her arm and landed by the villain’s feet with a thud. Her green uniform was covered with specs of blood.

'No!' he screamed with the girl’s voice. 'They always sound so funny when they’re afraid' he chuckled. His real voice was unpleasant to say the least. Deeper that anyone’s voice should be, gravely and throaty; like something from a horror movie.

'Oh, a hero? Are you gonna try and save her?' The villain shook the girl around, and a sickening crack was heard.

She opened her mouth and shrieked.

She sounded like an explosion, like an avalanche coming down. The villain covered his ears and let her go. She dropped right next to her bag; she didn’t stop screaming. A swarm of orange butterflies flew to the villain and sat all over him.

‘Get them off, get them off!’ he screamed. ‘I can’t see!’

Now Mirio had an opening.

He let himself sink into the ground. For a moment, there was only perfect silence. Then, he shot out of the pavement, right into the villain. Mirio felt his eardrums pop as his fist collided with the guy’s jaw. The girl’s voice was downright painful, and she only stopped once the villain dropped to the ground.

He didn’t get up.

'Are you okay?' Mirio asked, turning around to face the girl.

'I think' she nodded 'but my arms might be broken. They hurt like all hell.'

Mirio winced slightly.

'Yeah, I heard that crack. But don’t worry, I’ll get you somewhere safe.' He bent down to pick her up. 'Or, you know, at least to the closest police station.'

'Thanks.' She smiled slightly. 'By the way, who even was that guy? He seemed like a total nutjob.'

'No idea. We’ll probably learn that from tomorrow’s news…' Mirio paused when he got a good look at her face. She seemed familiar, really familiar. He remembered something about a dog and a ramen shop, but that was as good as his memory got. 'Do I know you?' he blurted out.

The girl gave him a long look.

‘I… I think?’ she said. ‘I think you might have jumped out of a tree when I was walking my dog.’

'Oh, did I?' His laugh was shaky. 'I’m really sorry about that. Didn’t mean to.'

‘I think you’re already apologised for that.’

‘Sorry. I mean…’ Mirio sighed. ‘I’m just gonna stop talking.’

‘No need. I like hearing you talk.’

‘Oh. Um, thank you.’

Mirio started walking. His face was burning and he could swear that he looked like a tomato. The girl’s eyes never left him. He was just hoping he didn’t smell like old sweat. Or something worse.

'What’s your name?' she said as they were nearing a police station.

'My name? I’m Lemi...'

Before Mirio could finish, a muffled voice came through his earpiece.

'Mirio, is everything okay?'

Mirio cleared his throat.

'Yes, Sir. Everything’s peachy. I have a casualty though, I’m taking her to the police station.'

'Good. I’ll contact you in the next thirty minutes.'

‘Sure, talk to you later.’

A strange silence stayed in the air after he finished talking to Sir. It made him uncomfortable. More than it should have.

'That was Sir Nighteye.’ Mirio cleared his throat. Again. More and more sweat was building up underneath his gloves. ‘I’m his inter, you know?'

'Really? I genuinely thought you were a full-fledged hero.' The surprise in her voice was sincere. 'You took that guy down in a moment!'

'Not without your help.' Mirio winked at her. He internally cringed immediately. 'But you know that using your Quirk on others without a license is illegal, right?'

She paled quickly.

'I-I didn’t mean to… He scared me and it just sort of… came out.'

He snickered.

'Calm down, I’m joking. As if I’d rat you out after you helped me.' His tone got more serious. 'Just make sure to be careful next time. Some people would turn you in in a heartbeat. Even heroes.'

'Sure, thanks for the advice.'

Before they knew it, they were standing right in front of the police station. Mirio put her down and gave her his signature smile.

'I hope I won’t have to save you again. Would be a shame if something happened.'

'Right.' She smirked. 'Oh, and you didn’t have to carry me all the way. My arms are hurt, not my legs' she said quickly. ‘If you wanted to ask me out, you could’ve just asked.’ she added as she walked into the building.

Mirio stood in front of the police station, speechless.

‘Well, I’ll have to get her number now. Who knows if I’ll see her again,’ he said to himself.

He walked right in after her.

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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

By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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

She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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

Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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

“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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

Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

[dreamiguess]

FWT Week Day 1: Winter Ball

@fundyfiles ‘s FundyWasTaken week except I start a day late and had to write in a Starbucks. editing provided by MicrosoftWord

Day One: Winter Ball Word Count: 1.5k On ao3

1. Winter ball - Its Harry Potter au

“Wha?”

Jack rolls his eyes and lowers his hand. Fundy has no clue how long he had been talking to him while he was zoned out.

“I was talking,” he says sharply, “about Yule. Can you help set up?”

Of course. Jack was probably tying to recruit everyone he could, and if he was asking Fundy, he’d run out of underclassmen to bother. No one wanted to sacrifice their time that they would be getting ready to enchanting decorations or moving furniture in the great hall. He falls back into the armchair, looking at him sideways.

“C’mon, you’re great at charms. You could cut the amount of time it’d take in half,” Jack goads. He looks ready to start pleading. Fundy sighs.

“Fine. But because you’re my friend,” he relents. A grin stretches across the Hufflepuff’s face, like if he smiled any more his face would crack, like he’d leap across the desk to hug him.

“Good man! Are you planning on going?”

“Haven’t secured a date yet,” He groans, dropping his quill and giving up on doing any homework for afternoon.

“Neither do I, but not what I asked. Are you planning on going?”

Fundy’s mind wanders to blonde hair and a lopsided smile. It’s been doing that a lot, recently.

“I’d certainly like to.” Jack smiles again, something secretive. He’s a good friend and a better organizer, and he deserved his student council position more than anyone. It’s a shame he always has to fight for it. He probably works twice as hard as anyone to make things, like the Yule Ball, happen, and happen well. Not to mention the fact that he probably holds half their year’s impulse control. Sharp as a tack as well, apparently.

Doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be a dick about Fundy’s crush, even if he didn’t know who it was.

“I’m thinking about asking George, just for the meme,” he replies, and maybe Fundy is safe from prodding or teasing. Maybe.

“You don’t think he’ll be going with Dream? Or Sapnap?” he considers for a moment, “Or Dream and Sapnap?” He hopes he sounds casual, but he’s treading carefully. The answer is going to be yes, of course it is. They’re too good friends to do anything else. There’s a spark of hope somewhere, though, and Jack would know more than himself. Or make a better guess, not being…Biased.

“I don’t know,” he answers, slowly. “Sapnap’s going with Karl. And Dream?” He pauses again, really selling the act, before looking Fundy straight in the eye. “I think Dream might want to go with someone else.”

Sharp as a tack, and too kind to tease. Just breathe gently on the spark, try to coax it into a flame.

 Ravenclaw and Slytherin have Astronomy: Planets, Orbits, and their place in the universe together. Fundy took it because it was so late he could fit it into his schedule. Dream took it because he loves space, had worked his way through all the courses before this one. It suited him. And maybe it suited Fundy too, to watch him with stars in his eyes. To study the worlds unattainable.

Soon enough the professor is ending class and students are packing up their telescopes, quiet with exhaustion, and filling towards the stairs. Personally, he hates waiting a slow moving line down stairs that would not stand up to muggle safety codes, so he takes his time packing up and making small talk with their teacher. Dream seems to be holding back too, nudging George and gesturing towards the stairs. Probably telling him to go ahead.

There’s a part of him he thinks, that’s always aware of Dream.

And then he does something unexpected and walks directly towards Fundy. He suppressed the urge to smooth out his robes or run a hand through his hair. In a mirror image to Dream earlier, he nudges Niki to go on without him.

“Do you have a sec?” he asks, telescope slung over his shoulder and textbook clutched to his chest. Fundy almost wishes he asked Niki to stay to make it less personal than a one-on-one.

“Yeah, what’s up?” It comes out slightly slurred and he cringes internally. He’s more tired than he thought, apparently.

“I know this is weird because we’re not in the same house or anything, and you can totally say know, but I was wondering if you could help me out with transfiguration? I think you took Inanimates last year.” He had, actually, taken Inanimates last year. Got an A* and everything, but its odd that Dream knows that. Maybe the professor had recommended him? She should have recommended within the house, though. The last person must have said no, then.

“Yeah, sure. Library?”

“Not right now, idiot.”

“Friday?”

“Friday is good. Couple hours before dinner?” Fundy nods, closing his eyes for a beat. Friday. It gives him time to prepare, and not just transfiguration notes.

“See you then.” Dream smiles at him, lopsided and honest, and encourages him through the door ahead of him. The descent is awkward in the way of going the same direction after saying goodbye, even if they hadn’t formally ended their conversation. To be honest with himself, Fundy was probably creating his own discomfort with the help of anxiety. They ofbviously knew they would have to follow each other. They obviously knew there was only one staircase. Yet here he is, anxious about how he steps down, how fast (slow?) he’s going, how his hair looks from behind. But the staircase ends, and so does his decline into madness. He can speed to Ravenclaw Tower to freak out on his own.

They pause at the end, regard each other for a moment.

“I’ll see you on Friday, then,” Fundy breathes out, forcing his hands to stay in his pockets.

“Thursday, actually, Potions,” Dream corrects with a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d forgotten about that.

“Thursday.” Fundy turns to walk away, but Dream stops him.

“Can I walk you back?” he blurts out. “You look dead on your feet, I’d hate you to pass out in a corner somewhere before you make it to bed.”

Fundy prays he’s not blushing. Dream isn’t wrong, it’s been a long week. Every week is a long week these days, with a packed schedule and club leadership. It’s kind of him to notice.

“Sure, if you want. It’s kinda in the opposite direction from the dungeons though, so you really shouldn’t bother.”

He bothers.

He does more than bother. Takes his telescope right out of his hands and refuses to give it back and waits to make sure Fundy can solve his riddle. As the staircase slides open, all Fundy can do is wave shyly and listen to the other’s footfalls fade away.

 Friday rolls around fast. Too fast, maybe. Fundy gets to the library early, paces in front of the doors to expend some of his jittery energy. They hadn’t actually agreed on where in the library, so here he was, waiting and breathing into his unsettle stomach.

Apparently Dream wanted to be early as well because soon enough he’s fading into view, Sapnap in tow. He punches Dream in the arm when they finally catch sight of them, Dream shoving him away in turn. He nods at Fundy in greeting but keeps going, leaving the pair alone again. He must have been outside because his cheeks are stained in rose.

“Study room?”

“Nah, it looks gorgeous out. Let’s go to the lake.”

“Dude! It’s gotta be like, 7 degrees out there,” he protests. Dream stares at him.

“You could cast a warming charm in your sleep.”

Oh. Yeah. Dream doesn’t give him time to argue, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the entrance hall. He barely has time to mumble an incantation before being caught in the whirlwind that is a delighted Dream on a mission.

 It starts snowing half an hour in, leaving wet spots on their parchment like tears. He’s itching for an I told you so but Dream launches himself off the ground before he gets a chance, escaping their tree’s limited shelter into the flurry. He tosses his head back and flings his arms wide, letting his eyes close and smile grow bright. He’s a vision. Black robes stand out again the grey winter scene, with snow slowly decorating his shoulders like stars. The green at his neck is like a spot of Spring when the flora has long since wilted and the trees are bare. When he turns back towards Fundy there are flakes stuck in his eyelashes. He aches.

“I know it’s just snow,” he explains, bashfulness unable to dull him, “but I never got it back home. I saw it for the first time at Hogwarts.” He raises his shoulders towards his ears, “back in first year.”

His mouth moves without his permission.

“Go to Yule Ball with me?”

Dream smiles impossibly wider, smiles with his whole face, his whole chest.

“Merlin yes.”

[oneofyatosfollowers]

Yatori Week 2021- Day 6

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

There were many reasons Hiyori and Yukine had been upset with Yato keeping his secrets. 

For one, they were dangerous to both him and the rest. Another was trust. That was something that bothered Yukine more than Hiyori; after all, she understood the many reasons why Yato didn’t tell them and she couldn’t blame him for it. But the reason that most upset Hiyori, was one that she had to face after he first disappeared.

Hiyori didn’t know Yato at all.

She knew nothing about him, couldn’t even take a guess as to where he would go. No favorite restaurant or bar, no other friends, no relaxing hobbies. And while there was once a time that wouldn’t have bothered Hiyori, that was no longer the case. Especially now, when they risked their lives for each other over and over.

Of course now, she knew more about him than anyone did. Yukine knew a lot but there were still aspects of Yato he didn’t understand yet. Yato had told them most of the important stuff, confirming or denying any questions or theories they had. But even so, Hiyori was just a speck. Just a sudden, minuscule existence in the grand scheme of the centuries of a god's life. Whether or not Yukine liked to think otherwise, there was no possible way for Yato to tell them about all his experiences in the one year he knew them. Considering they had trusted each other for less than that.

Unfortunately that didn’t change the fact that all those pieces, big and small, were a part of him. Parts that they-she- didn’t know. Yato was full of surprises and even though that was usually fun to experience, the distance between them didn’t become more apparent until right now. With Father being locked away in heaven, stuck in an immortal existence to keep Yato alive, the heavens ultimately proclaimed him dead in every other sense of the word. As such, his children were left in an odd sort of limbo between mourning and dealing with the aftermath of his punishment.

Since Nora was rightfully struggling with the adjustment, even though she had been living at Kofukus for the past couple months, most of the actual work had been left to Yato. He attended meetings in heaven, completed any paperwork, rounded up all the masks that escaped. He also located all of The Crafter’s storage houses, living spaces, and any other place he kept things for him or the masks. Heaven took care of most of it, preferring to keep his children away and out of suspicion; but Ameterasu left the fate of the main house to Yato. Out of either pity or consideration.

Originally, Yato and Nora were content to simply burn the estate house to the ground with all the contents and beasts inside. But Hiyori and the rest convinced them to at least look through it, saying it was okay to take the time instead of just cutting it off. In hindsight maybe the two didn’t want to go back to such a traumatic place (and maybe the others were just curious) but Hiyori could tell Yato had some longing to go there, safely. He and Nora had argued against anyone else going, even her and Yukine, but that opinion was ultimately swayed too. It was easier to do that nowadays, Yato wasn’t as stubborn as he used to be. Still bogged down by guilt of all kinds. But everyone promised the both of them they wouldn’t do or touch anything without permission and Yukine insisted on staying by Yato’s side.

That didn’t stop their jaws from dropping as they followed The Crafter’s children south along the coast and far up into the mountains. Yato and Nora decided to walk there, out of habit, and the rest had no choice but to do the same. An old stone staircase led from a small back road up into the trees. After about another mile, they met a driveway and a large bamboo fence. It was old, but clearly still used and well maintained. The height wasn’t anything extravagant- Hiyori knew she was the only one that couldn’t leap over it- but the large chains that crossed over the entrance warded others to stay away.

They waited patiently for Nora to unlock it before the doors swung open and they were met with a beautiful front yard and house. It wasn’t extravagant by any means but the yard was well kept with hydrangea bushes lining the fence and white pebbles accenting most of the plants and house. The house itself was rather grand. Far too nice for someone like Yato but everyone had the sense not to comment on it. The estate was very old fashioned, a traditional Japanese style with two floors and probably an attic. The white building had long hallways sticking off either side and thin wooden slats covering all the windows. They were the same dark wood as the naked support beams around the outside of the house and matched nicely with the dark pointed roof.

In fact the only “crafter” thing about the house was the handful of masks that slept in the front yard. Three of them looked like large deer, that raised their heads at the intruders but did nothing more. Some smaller ones skittered under the porch while two wolves dashed out to see the new guests, happy to finally see members of the family. With one nod from Yato and Nora, Bishamon dispelled these rather peaceful creatures. Hiyori didn’t try to think about it too much.

Nora unlocked the front door, sliding the wooden door open and letting the group into the mud room. For a moment everyone stood, unsure if they were supposed to take off their shoes, but when neither of The Crafter’s children did, they didn’t either. Down the hall to the left was the living room, straight ahead was the hallway and kitchen, and to the right were stairs to go up. Wordlessly, everyone separated and got to work. Since Yukine stayed with Yato, following him to the back of the house and down the right hallway to The Crafter’s workspace, Hiyori stayed with Nora in the kitchen. It was just as old as the rest of the house, mostly running on fire and various stone appliances.

“If you want to go with him, you can,” Nora said suddenly.

“Huh?” Hiyori jolted and dropped the tied trash bag, trying and failing to hide the fact that her thoughts were now upstairs. Nora didn’t say anything more, just leveled Hiyori with a polite but challenging look. Hiyori swallowed and looked down, attempting to hide her blush. There was no point in denying it, everyone in this house knew- and saw- that there was something between them.

“Hey Nora?” Kofuku peaked her head in the kitchen with Daikoku, Bishamon, and Kazuma over her shoulder, “we finished with the left side of the house. Except for Tenjin and Mayu who are still in the library. What else should we do?”

“If you walk straight out the back for a little less than a mile there is a holy spring. In the stream leading to it is a fruit net and laundry. There is also a garage in the back with Father’s sport’s car and Yato’s motorcycle. You can probably get rid of all the tools or something,” Nora said. There was another moment of stunned silence, something that has happened a lot since coming here, but everyone quickly delegated the work and left. Hiyori took a moment to drag the trash bags to the pile set neatly outfront on the porch before coming back. Before Yato agreed to let them come in, even with the promise they would not question or disobey his orders, he laid down several ground rules. One of which was that gods must always travel with their shinki, even from room to room. Apparently there were still masks that hid in the walls as security and Yato wasn’t sure how’d they act without their master. This was also the reason no one was to make any loud noises, or a ton of sudden movements. It was no wonder Yato and Nora were such naturally quiet people.

“I just- I don’t,” Hiyori started. She was cut off by Nora’s sigh as she worked to tape a box of glassware shut.

“Hiyori, I’m fine,” Nora stated, “this is my home. I’m not like Yato where I view this as a scary place, this is where I would go to feel safe and comfortable. It’s sad to see it go but this is hardly the first time we’ve moved. They’re just things.” The girl spoke as simply as ever, lifting the box and setting it atop the others for someone stronger to put in the mover’s truck one of Bishamon’s shinki drove. Ebisu offered to have a yard sale of The Crafter’s belongings after thoroughly cleansing them. He was planning on giving the money to Yato, who offered it to Kofuku, who decided to put it in a savings account for family emergencies.

“I know and that’s great. I just don’t want you to be alone, you know?”

“Then I’ll join Tenjin in Father’s study. We’re just about done here anyway,” Nora stood and wiped her hands on her hips. The cabinets in the kitchen were empty, the oven was cleaned out of wood and charcoal, and the floors were swept clean. Without another word, Hiyori opening and shutting her mouth, Nora left the room like a ghost. A shiver immediately ran up her spine and Hiyori’s fists squeezed. She couldn’t run, afterall she just got her tail fixed but still wasn’t able to leave her body, so there was no reason for her to go antagonizing phantoms. Down the hall and up the stairs Hiyori was stuck between two bedrooms. Fearing the thought of walking into the wrong one, Hiyori waited and listened.

“Isn’t this room bigger than ours?” Yukine said.

“Not quite but almost. I usually shared it with Nora.” Came Yato’s reply.

“All I’m saying is that this isn’t what I expected someone like you to have.” Despite the bratty tone, Hiyori could tell Yukine wasn’t angry. Nor was he blaming his dad. It sounded more like he was trying to have a normal conversation.

“That’s because I don’t. This isn’t my house,” Yato muttered, “and I never wanted any of my shinki to come anywhere near this place. Especially you.” His voice was muffled from behind the door that Hiyori awkwardly faced. She didn’t want to walk in on one of their moments, they needed that, but she wanted to make sure Yato wasn’t pouting.

“I know.” Yukine finally mumbled, dropping the facade he tried to wear. It was more Yato’s thing than his, Yukine could only ever wear his heart on his sleeve. She could sense the tension on the other side of the door and Hiyori knew she had to step in. Besides, she didn’t like having her back to the bedroom of that wretched man. The door slid open and Hiyori readied herself to settle messy emotions only to see Yukine giving Yato an awkward side hug, both of them crouching on the floor. Their heads were pressed together as Yukine rubbed Yato’s back up and down. Suddenly the blonde’s head popped up and looked at her.

“Hiyori,” Yukine said. It took a moment for Yato to raise his head and look over his shoulder. He wasn’t crying, he hardly even looked upset, but he did have that look in his eye. The one where he blamed himself for bringing some sort of misfortune on them.

“Hey ‘yori,” Yato gave her a smile, “Yukine’s being a good kiddo and guide. Makin’ sure I’m doin’ alright.” The two separated as she walked in. She smiled at Yukine’s blush.

“That’s wonderful. I just came up here to see if you needed help. We just finished the kitchen.” Hiyori said as she knelt down. On the far wall were two large closets, the right one Yatos, the left one Noras, above was more storage that they seemed to make little use of save for some awards. In between the two closets was a mirror and vanity with hairbrushes and hair accessories. In front of Yato was a box of kimonos, the closet was open to reveal he had about four left to fold. They were all plain, just various colors of white, black, and blue. There was one green but it seemed barely worn.

“What about Nora?” Yukine asked.

“She went to help Tenjin in the library. Bishamon and Kazuma finished with the music room and basement while Kofuku and Daikoku cleaned out the garage and all the bathrooms. Like you asked, none of us went into his room.” Hiyori relayed.

“Yeah, I think Nora wanted to do that. Leave it for last and all. Of course she’ll need Bishamon or Tenjin with her just to make sure she doesn’t try anything.” Yato muttered as he folded the last of his clothes.

“There’s still the, uh, attic. But other than that everything is done.” Hiyori felt bad reminding the two of Yato’s deeds as a God of Calamity. The ceiling was filled with nothing but boxes of newspaper clippings and requests of those who’ve died by Yato’s sword. Hiyori didn’t want to go in there, yet another forgien aspect of Yato she didn’t want to know. Yukine paused his cleaning as Yato sighed.

“Forget it. There’s definitely nothing in there the heavens or anybody wants. We can just burn it as it is tomorrow,” Yato deadpanned, “unless you want to go look. It’s okay.”

“No,” Yukine said immediately without anger.

“No,” Hiyori said after, “it’s fine.” The room fell into a strange but comfortable silence as Hiyori put all the vanity stuff into a box and sealed it. She looked for something else to clean, knowing there was not much more to be done.

“Are you really going to get rid of all this stuff?” Hiyori asked as she scanned the room. Yato placed his box of clothes in a pile by the widow, stacked atop about five others, two of which had Nora’s name on them. All in all, this room, this house, was rather empty. It seemed Father was the only one with sentimental objects but even then it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replaced. Save for a couple cringey family photos and mask research, there was nothing worth saving.

“Mm-Hmm,” Yato hummed. He took a moment to gather two boxes in his arms and jump out of the window then back. He fixed her with a smile that stalled her heart for a moment, it was soft but genuine, like the more they cleaned out of this house the clearer his mind became. On the opposite wall, on either side of the door, were swords of all sizes and some certificates. Hiyori got to work there, grabbing one of the flatter boxes.

“Like I said to Yukine, this isn’t my room, not really. There’s nothing here I need,” Yato walked up to her, “besides, I already have everything I want at Kofuku’s.” His smile was telling and Hiyori focused on his lips for longer than she was comfortable with admitting. Yes, her soul was fixed, with the help of a sun god and some magic peaches. But not before receiving a desperate kiss from a close friend who gave her a piece of himself to hold her together until they could get help. Red faced, Hiyori looked away as Yato got to work on the rest of Nora’s white, red, and pink patterned kimonos.

“Are you sure? I mean some of this stuff seems like you should keep it. They're your things.” Hiyori said, almost like a sad plea. In her hands were two very prestigious college degrees, one for art and one for math. Below them was a certificate for japanese calligraphy, an acceptance letter to a professional baseball team, and an invitation to the winter olympic qualifiers. What Hiyori said was true, they were unequivocally Yato’s possessions, things that were so painfully him and no one else's. Yet they were so forgien. Yato the vagrant didn’t keep things. Especially so neat and preserved like this. Nor did he try to do things the right way that involved paperwork.

“Yeah, I mean. They’re just pieces of paper, it’s not like getting rid of them will take away my talents. I hardly look at them anyway.” Yato waved her off. Before she could say anything more, Yato had finished the closets and leaped out the window. With a sigh Hiyori went to the other side of the room and picked up two traditional old swords and a violin, ready to move them towards the window.

“Ah! Ah! Wait!” Yukine scrambled from atop a step stool, “not those!”

“But Yato just said?”

“I know but those, uh, he said I could have those.” Embarrassed, Yukine took the objects from her arms and scuttled them back to the corner. Hiyori crept behind him and scanned the growing pile: two swords, three daggers, a couple of boxes, and a book that looked like a large photo album.

“What’s in those boxes?”

“Stuff from the wars,” Yato suddenly popped up behind her.

“Which ones?” Hiyori blinked.

“They’re kinda mixed,” he shrugged, “mostly metals and grimy uniforms, but the kid really wanted them so. You can take things too if you want. Though I still don’t understand why.” It was a sweet sentiment of Yukine but the concept was still strange. Yato didn’t offer things. Well, he did, but he never actually had the material things he tried to offer and would usually offer services or lip service. Hiyori wasn’t sure he liked this version of Yato. She didn’t hate it- this was part of him after all- but Hiyori couldn’t fit these images in with her picture of him. She worked to process it as the group cleaned out the rest of The Crafter’s house, the building not seeming any less empty.

Bishamon’s shinki started the journey to Ebisu’s shrine while she and Tenjin took the mask materials up to heaven, as ordered by Ameterasu. Nora offered to cook dinner, planning on spending a final night saying goodbye to the house, but Kofuku and Daikoku decided to head into town for food. That left just them, Yato’s immediate family and her. Hiyori didn’t want to spend any more time here than she needed to but she still refused Kofuku’s offer to take her. With Yukine and Nora silently prepping food in the kitchen, Hiyori made her way through the back door where Yato had just finished chopping food. He didn’t look at her as she closed the sliding door and took a seat next to him.

“How are you feeling?” She coaxed, arm already around his shoulders.

“Good,” Yato huffed a sigh, “I mean I’m not happy. Not upset either. Just here,” he shrugged. Then he turned those blue eyes on her.

“How about you? Are you okay?” He asked. That was more like him, to ask how others were feeling when he was the one with the problem.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She said. His arm wrapped around her waist but before she could turn her blush on him, he buried his nose in her neck.

“It just doesn’t feel real, you know? I know he’s not dead, so it’s not over, but it just feels like it is?” Yato lowered his voice so the kids inside didn’t hear him worry over nothing. Those were reserved for Hiyori, just like her monologues were only for his ears.  

“A new beginning,” Hiyori offered. She felt him smile against her neck and Hiyori’s blush reached it. Out of habit, she held out her hand and let him intertwine their fingers.

“I have a new life now,” Yato mused, “hopefully one without him in it.”

“But with you still here,” Hiyori squeezed her hand for emphasis.

“Haha, yeah. Of course. Me and you and Yukine, with a little less baggage.”

“Yato,” Hiyori sighed with a smile. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that simply cleaning out his father’s house was enough to make the emotional problems go away.

“I know,” Yato murmured. He nuzzled a little bit more, Hiyori waiting to rest her cheeks on his head. She stared at their hands with a soft smile, the feeling just as familiar as it was forgien. Hiyori came to the conclusion that she might not ever truly, fully, know Yato but that it wouldn’t stop her from loving him all the same.

“It’s a little bit of a shame though,” Hiyori said.

“Hmm?”

“Your stuff. This house. It’s almost like a waste.”

“Not a waste,” Yato said, “a new start. One with you in it.” The smile was evident in his voice and Hiyori could feel the steam rise off her face. She would never get used to such blatant flirting, especially when he grinned so charmingly at her from so close.

“But you’re welcome to take something. Something to remember me by.” Yato’s eyes drifted to her lips and back to her drooping eyes.

“You?” Hiyori said without thinking. Just as she leaned in for another precious kiss, Yato bursted out laughing, tips of his ears a bright red.

“As you wish!” Yato exulted. Hiyori was too lost in her embarrassment to look at him, not even when Yukine threw the kitchen door open to yell at his teasing master. There was still something there, something that overshadowed them with forbidding, but with Yato’s comforting laughter ringing throughout her bones, Hiyori knew they would be alright.

[reversecreek]

MEET THE NPCS...

BOBBY YANG, “BIG BOB” .

1. how old are they and what do they look like?

thirty-four. implausibly tall. the day magda first saw a sketch of slenderman she thought of him. when her aunt shelly pulled up the dirt road to abernathy creek magda remembers seeing him through a dusty back window with his head bowed to avoid getting tree leaves in his eyes, joint between his lips, dungarees dirty and half unbuckled. one side of his hair is buzzed with no apparent style intention and he has a weed leaf tattooed behind his left ear. an elephant on his thigh. a name on his ankle he often wears a plaster over. once it soaked through and fell off in the creek and, newly glossy in the sun, nine year old magda reached to give it a blunt and shameless prod. big bob never explained who the name belonged to, he only reached to thumb at the minari growing by the water bed and talk about the fact it was a "versatile little sucker”. 

2. if applicable, where and when did they meet your muse?

big bob introduced himself as such and magda raised her eyebrow in disbelief, the soul of a disgruntled pensioner in a seven yr old’s body. magda didn’t rly talk to anyone when she first arrived in her new home, verging on mute. she was angry at the move, angry that her dad hadn’t called her when she got there, angry that she didn’t know her mother’s voice to imagine it telling her everything was okay. the world made her so angry she didn’t want to acknowledge it. she sat outside in silence for a long time letting a ladybug crawl over her hand, and big bob didn’t ask anything of her, he only schlepped closer and presented her with a buttercup. she looked at it like it’d spat in her face but took it nonetheless. it was strange having an actual bed, if you could call a bare mattress that, used to sleeping on the sofa in shelly’s old trailer, and the springs nipped at her like a dog demanding treats, so she wandered outside in one of shelly’s big tie dye shirts like a nightdress, searching for the moon. big bob was standing out there already in the overgrown grass, stark naked, chin lifted to gawk at the moon himself. magda didn’t disturb him. this is when she first discovered his habit of naked sleepwalking. abernathy creek felt like a bird house overrun with all kinds of eccentric, squawking parakeets. it was a lot for a seven yr old to take in. this was a strange reality she’d never signed up for, swallowed by the commune to overheat inside it’s belly. 

3. what kind of a presence do they have in your muse’s life? do they have a positive or negative relationship?

bob’s definitely a character. three times now he’s slipped hallucinogens into magda’s tea without her knowing under the impression that this is just harmless fun and he’s actually helping her by pushing her little boat to bob along the ocean of enlightenment, once at as young as 16. every time she realises he’s like “y’just got bobbeddddd!” and magda’s like here we go ig. told her the raw earth has healing properties to explain why he’d dug up the grass just to rub his hands in the soil and lay there like a panting, overheated dog. he’s an important component to abernathy creek and oversees a lot of the agriculture there. rigged up the irrigation system himself using copper pipes that magda suspects were stolen. the beat up camper van that’s usually parked up behind abernathy and hidden under leafy branches appeared when he did, apparently, although he insists it belongs to everyone. he leads the crusades to drive it up to the mountains and take a group of abernathy creek residents shroom picking. he’s in charge of drying them for selling, too. jack of all trades, really. magda claims not to care for him (or anyone) but she still walked out onto the grass, took his hand and lead him inside whenever she found him sleepwalking at night in her teens. once a group of kids were daring each other to get closer when he was out there and magda threw a stone so hard at one of their shin’s it split it open and made them scatter. but again, magda “does not care about him”. the jury is not convinced.

4. are they revered in irving? do they have bad blood with anyone?

honestly everyone in irving probably thinks he’s a rly strange guy and i won’t fk around. he kind of is. wears many necklaces around his neck n one is just a pouch that has a prehistoric mosquito encased in a little piece of amber inside. sometimes magda wonders if he likes to play up to his reputation by putting it on a little bit. once she saw him suddenly jerking his head like a pecking chicken and saying “g’warn GET” to scare a random middle aged hiker into galloping in the opposite direction in the trees near abernathy. has a masterful knowledge of bird songs and can imitate them all impeccably. sometimes does this instead of replying with words. never cares about the holes in his shoes where his toes poke out. always seems to be turning a rusty coin between his fingers like it helps him think. he makes moonshine that will knock u off ur feet tho which is always a good time if ur lucky enough to try it. he has a very rich n warm voice like a log fire or a gooey chocolate brownie. even with all of his oddities he sounds kind. he’s very unconventional n doesn’t abide by rules of society a lot but he’s quite funny n a good time. makes engaging smalltalk if u treat him with respect. weird but admittedly a tiny bit wonderful. 

OTIS WOLFE.

1. how old are they and what do they look like?

forty-six but he looks older. the skin beneath his eyes is subtly purpled like it’s been dyed by a lick of beetroot juice. he has a very charismatic walk which doesn’t sound like it makes sense but it does to look at him. he walks everywhere buoyantly and with purpose. very high energy in his good days. lives everything in large quantities, good and bad. always used to wear a tan leather bomber jacket when magda was growing up but he forgot it w her one visit n it’s the only time she’s known him to call up two days after leaving to ask if she’d seen it. magda lied and said she hadn’t. she still has it to this day. sleeps in it on her bad days. otis has a smile so big it shines like live wires are sparking in his mouth. magda’s fingertips prickle like she’s an hour recovering from shoving a fork into a plug socket whenever she sees it. she used to think that’s what excitement felt like. that used to be true.

2. what kind of a presence do they have in your muse’s life? do they have a positive or negative relationship?

it’s very complicated. magda knows her dad isn’t a good person but she knows he isn’t a bad person either. sometimes it’s more frustrating to see things in grey because you just want something solid to take shape that u can actually put ur finger on. she finds herself perpetually stood at a fork in the road between believing in him still and deciding he’s no good. sometimes she’ll start walking in one direction only to realise it loops back on itself and she’s right back where she started. otis has given her a lot of fun “adventures”. taught her how to juggle. they stayed in a hotel on someone else’s credit card once and racked up a gargantuan tab ordering every form of room service and renting godzilla and the matrix on pay per view when she was 11. sometimes he’d use her in gimmicks where she had to lie and pretend she had a health condition so they could get a few bucks off charitable strangers on a street corner and under the veil of youth magda found playing up these roles funny because who would ever believe that? wasn’t everyone in the world so stupid except them? it was nice being part of his team. his “little wolfie”. but then a lot of things weren’t nice either. he’s left her stranded on the side of the road with nowhere to go on more than one occasion. he’s passed out in motel corridors and she’s had to lug him into a bed. he’s forgotten almost every birthday apart from one where he sent a card with five dollars inside and handwriting so squiggly she could tell he was drunk when he wrote it. he doesn’t know she likes to sing because he’s only ever listened when he’s fallen asleep. otis is all of magda’s heart and that’s why sometimes she likes to forget that it’s beating. 

3. are they revered in irving? do they have bad blood with anyone?

he’s very flighty n rarely in irving any more tbh but was more when magda was younger n his visits were a little less sporadic. probably owes a bunch of people money for some reason or another. smashed up fannie’s recently when he turned up drunk and got ahead of himself on a giddy n frenzied rampage in the name of “fun” n “just having a laugh”. magda’s aunt shelly really doesn’t get on with her brother n thinks he’s a complete deadbeat waste of space n resents him a lot for the impact he’s had on magda. magda remembers being little and peeking through a crack in shelly’s trailer door when he turned up drunk one time to collect her for a visit n shelly wouldn’t let him in. something along the lines of “you don’t give a rat’s ass about that little girl” and “she worships you, y’know that? most of the time, you don’t even remember her name”. magda crept back onto the sofa and pretended to be asleep by the time she came inside.

4. if your muse is no longer in contact with them, how did the relationship end? did your muse get closure over this?

magda slowly stopped trying to keep in contact over the years. it got embarrassing trying so hard when she didn’t get much back. like pushing a boulder all the way up a hill only to watch it roll back down again. it’s probably contributed a lot towards magda’s inability to really try with people like she should, especially when her heart’s involved. she doesn’t want to be humiliated again. magda hasn’t spoken to her dad in person in almost a year. they had a phone call about seven months back but it turned out to be a butt dial and he hung up because he was in the middle of a conversation at some bar about the moon landing conspiracy. magda’s playlist that i have for her is called “a rodeo clown in a revolving door” which is basically the role otis serves in magda’s life. always in and out. never constant. gone more than he’s there, especially lately. idk if magda will ever get closure over that. she certainly hasn’t now. pouts my fuckable lips to the side w a hand on hip and triple f’s prominent.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Corpses in the Meadow || Morgan & Eilidh

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @braindeacl & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Nothing brings together two dead women like wildflowers and flesh eating watermellons.

Morgan had thought her days of laying in the ground for hours were behind her, but April really was the cruelest month and she hadn’t gotten free of its grip yet. Today, under a bright spring sun, she furrowed her nails deep into the earth and tried to pull herself under, as if the ground and all its creatures were a blanket for her. But of course the earth didn’t hold anyone like that except for the dead. The for real, permanent, definitely-no-walking dead. Morgan brushed her fingers along the newly sprung wildflowers, imagining what their petals felt like, if they were as tender and smooth as her memory told her they were. At least she could enjoy their colors, and their fluffy golden pollen centers. Morgan plucked some carefully by the stem and knotted them together from her sprawl on the ground. Maybe if she ever got to have a real funeral, she’d ask whosever was left to care about her for wildflowers. She should probably find out if her zombie goo was toxic to plants, but if she could go back to being a part of the world, if she could be felt and taken in, that wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Carefully, Morgan plucked more flowers from around her and wove them with care, on and off, between laying and watching the bright eye of the sun through the trees, until she heard the grass crunch behind her. Morgan tilted her head back, squinting to catch a glimpse of the figure. Please no hunters, she thought. I don’t want to convince a hunter I deserve to live today.

Springtime was here, and Eilidh couldn’t help but smile. For one so shrouded in death, life in all its forms filled her with delight. As the forest shivered, awoken from its winter slumber, she felt herself drawn more and more to its embrace. Of course, she did have the professional need to be there so frequently, but that wasn’t the main motivation. Even when her ventures were work focused, such as now, she took her time getting to the needed destination. Especially after the gateway adventure and all these damn fires. Between work and wondering what the hell was going on, she deserved to have a moment of relaxation. But she tried not to worry about that now. She inhaled a deep breath—the hint of spring air tickling her nose, so accustomed to just a suggestion of its true form she didn’t know the difference. The sounds of creatures, excited by the revitalized forest as well, filled her ears with a wonderful symphony. Colors that weren’t there the day before dazzled her eyes and—wait, who was that?

She squinted. Aye, looks like a person. Well, she should probably investigate. Changing course, she got closer, and closer, and closer, until she could clearly see what the other person was doing. Arms to her hips, brows furrowed, voice stern, she called, “Hey, you’re not supposed to do that!” A pause. Then, a grin. “Nah, it’s whatever. Just don’t pick too much, or I will have to actually ask you to stop.” Even closer now, she peered curiously as the braided flora, trying to make sense of its unfinished form. “What are you working on, anyway?”

The voice calling out to Morgan definitely didn’t sound like a hunter. “Sorry!” Morgan called dully. Then the voice warmed, not laughing, but bouncing like it wanted to. Slowly, Morgan sat up to look at her. Definitely a lot prettier and friendlier than any stranger she’d run into in the woods so far. “I’m making, well…” She looked down at her handiwork. It had gotten too long to be a circlet, unless she wanted to twist it over itself. “Honestly, I’m just passing the time. Making things helps me think. Or not think, I guess. Normally I do that at home, I’m not a serial flower picker or anything. I just didn’t feel like being inside about it.” But she did, apparently, feel like oversharing about it.

Morgan grinned ruefully and held it out to the stranger. “Do you want it? It’ll look better on you, with how tall you are.” She nodded at her, insisting. “Are these your woods?”

“Seems like you’ve had a lot of time to pass.” Eilidh mused while surveying the length of the, well, the to-be-decided. It reminded her of her own absentminded creations, especially during days when she would forego human society for days, weeks, months at a time. And it was a pretty little thing; she could tell its creator had experience.

She perked excitedly at the offering—eyes alight and giggle bubbling—and immediately claimed it, though with care. Within her grasp, she gently turned and twisted the woven piece, concentration on her face. Suddenly, epiphany. She dropped down to her knees, taking care to not disturb too much of the vegetation below. She wrapped it once around her head, quickly connecting the end piece to the rest, and then began to weave the remaining part within her own hair into a side braid. “I don’t claim them, but I do work here.” Feeling hospitable after the generosity, she continued. “Speaking of, I was heading over to do something. But I know a real good flower spot on the way. It’s not on a commonly used trail. So, nice and private. But you can’t pick any of those. And I’ll know, so don’t try. Still, they’re wonderful to look at, ‘specially right now.” She finished the braid. Part of the flowers still stuck out at the end; her hair just wasn’t quite long enough. Ah well. “Interested?”

Morgan looked up at the sky to check the position of the sun, then her phone to confirm her suspicions. She’d been laying here for hours and it had barely felt like anything. Maybe that could have been a relief, but she’d been down this proverbial hole too many times to be glad about skipping suffering by being absent from herself. “I guess I have, yeah…” Her voice tapered off into a laugh. Technically, she had all the time in the world.

She smiled in spite of herself as the woman wrapped the flowers into her hair. She seemed to have done it before. “So that’s why you’d have to stop me if I became too much of a flower thief. At least you’re a lot more pleasant than any of the other public service workers I’ve met in town.” Although between Marley Stryder and Kaden in his scowl-y asshole days, that bar was pretty low. Morgan looked at the sky again. It was well past morning, but she didn’t feel like going back home while everyone in it was away doing...alive-people things, presumably. “Uh...you know, I don’t see why not. It’s okay if I take pictures of them though, right? It’s not gonna hurt them any.” Slowly, she got to her feet and waited for the woman to show her the way. “If we’re going off on unknown woodsy adventures, I should probably know you as something better than ‘strangely nice park lady’. I’m Morgan.”

Mischief twinkled in Eilidh’s eyes when she looked upon the other. “You caught me. I want all the flowers to myself.” Sentence punctuated with a mock evil laugh. She did, perhaps, on her off time, pick flowers and use them for various things. She mostly placed them in her hair, or pressed them in a book, or added them to her crafts, similar to the one now braided in her hair. She always made sure not to take too much, and to give back to the earth in ways she could.

Her? Pleasant? James would scoff if he was near, but he was off having private time. Though, at times, she could be such a word. Especially when she was surrounded by all that nature could give: when the sun hit the nape of her neck and the breeze cooled her skin and the trees danced amongst the flow. It calmed her. It was why she always felt drawn to it. It was her home. It was the only true one she had left, anyhow.

She arose, brushing off remnants of the ground off her skirt. “Aye, photography’s fine. Just don’t have me in them. I don’t like paparazzi. And call me Macleod.” She nodded in greeting. Then, with her head, she motioned onward and began their journey. “This way. It’s not too far from here.” Initially, the trail they took was large and the ground smooth, packed down by many feet over the years: a main path. The trail Eilidh quickly turned into was less so. It was marked, and it would come up on the map if you looked, but the ground was noticeably less tame. And the surrounding wilderness knew this, knew the barrier between it and the path was weaker. Eilidh didn’t bat an eye as they continued.

Morgan laughed softly in response. “Are you saying you’re secretly an international pop star on the run, Macleod?” She teased dryly. “Because I could use the boost to my Instagram profile. Cat pictures interspersed with flowers, decaying animals, and their bones isn’t very mainstream.” She took out her phone, arching a brow, then turned and took a close shot of a tree branch. It was easier to hold herself up in front of someone, especially a stranger. She had her pride, even if sometimes she overshared to the point of distressing people. And then, new people were such convenient puzzles and experiences. She didn’t have to be sad looking at herself if she was learning their expressions and what they were like and how their presence colored the world.

She followed this woman, Macleod, down the trail. It was one of those obscure ones that was half grown over by neglect, or some unspoken message from nature. Morgan had a sense that they were passing into someone else’s territory. Morgan stumbled behind her, scanning their surroundings, the birds flying above the trees, the blur of butterflies in the distance. Further on, she thought she spied a shadow, some deer maybe, lazing on its way through its day. “And this is definitely a secret flower patch and not a secret murder patch, right…?” She asked.

“I’ll never tell.” She winked. Then, pause. Instagram. Eilidh was almost sure she knew which one that was. Should someone the age she looks like know what that was? She decided not to mention it and look it up later. “Really? ‘Cause all that already got my attention.” The brief moment the phone faced her, she stiffened ever so slightly—shoulders barely rose, face found a subtle hardness. As the lens passed on to a new target, the tension washed off her just as quickly as it came. Her eyes followed the new direction. A simple tree branch, but the way the light hit it just so… she understood the interest.

She let out a short chuckle. “Nah, the murder patch is half a klick that way.” She took note of Morgan’s unease and quickened her pace, figuring it was best to get to their destination sooner rather than later. The breeze picked up, brushing aside the flimsy vegetation ahead and the pair got an early glimpse of their goal. Colors erupted between the green, as if a window into another world. The wind took a turn, and the air suddenly became engulfed in a cornucopia of sweetness. Unfortunately, to her it was only a little tickle in her nose. Nothing more.

“Really?” Morgan said, brows raised. “Well that’s not something I hear every day. You don’t have a collection too, do you? Because I have a lot of death sculptures and I’m running out of shelf space.” Not that she’d been adding much to it lately. Between taking care of her family and being too miserable to cook for herself, she hadn’t been doing much in her studio besides breathing and spacing out. But if a normie like Cutler could find something nice in it, maybe Macleod could too.

But before Morgan could make her pitch, they arrived. It had rained the night before and the ground was still iridescent with water, which now shimmered in the sunlight as if enchanted with a glaze of pearl. White flowers streamed over the grass as if they’d been poured from the sky. Bunches of violets and peonies danced in the breeze and a thin haze of dandelion puffs and pollen floated like pixies through the air. Morgan gaped in awe, too awed to bother aiming her camera. “I was about eighty-five percent sure you were serious about this not being a murder patch, but stars above--” She tipdoed carefully into the flowers, trying to disturb as few of them as possible. “What are their names?” she asked, sinking down to brush the petals. “What do they smell like?”

Eilidh perked curiously. “Can’t say I have a ‘death sculpture’ collection. What’d they look like?” Images of a room overcome with ceramic skeletons filled her mind. And then, the same room taken over by structures constructed by pieces of the dead. But all theorizing dashed from her mind at the sudden burst of colors. Despite having found herself in the spot many times, the sight was still delightful. Especially now, when many of the flowers were finally awoken from their slumber—stretching, dancing in the spring air. Their full vitality overwhelming the area in every hue. The forest was a sky, and this was its rainbow. Morgan’s reaction reminded Eilidh of when she first found the area less than a year prior. Sadly, it was located just as the flowers began to take their rest. But now she can enjoy it in its full glory.

“Well, that one’s Jeffrey, that one’s Helga.” She pointed to flowers at random. “Kidding… Maybe. Who knows, they could like being called Helga.” Still, she wasn’t going to force upon them a name. But she wasn’t sure if her current company would understand the sentiment, so she continued. “Anyway, these are known as Dog’s Tooth,” she motioned to a congregation of yellow petaled flowers, “and those’re Lady’s Slippers,” it was the collection of peculiarly shaped flower’s turn to be gestured at. “To name a few.” She matched Morgan’s tentative steps and joined her by a dense patch of purple flowers, one of which Morgan currently caressed. While the petals were small, their large numbers resulted in a relatively tall plant. She nodded, regarding its presence. “This one is supposedly very obedient. But I can tell they still have a wild spirit.” She too placed a gentle finger on the petals, though her fingers hardly registered anything. Her nose faced the same situation. A faint sweetness lingered, but only enough to register its existence, not to understand. “Uh, they smell like flowers. Sweet. Ya know.” Odd question. It made her wonder.

Something lurked just outside of view. But it was coming closer.

Morgan was too swept up in the rainbow spray of flowers to notice anything in the shadows. She was picking her way over to the edge of the patch so she could lay down without crushing any of them. She took out her phone and photographed the biggest flowers up close, and then from as close to ‘below’ as she could. “Pixie’s eye view, you know?” She teased. She really did want to find out if this was how Sundew and the rest of her pixie family saw the world, but Macleod didn’t need to know that. “Also, I think it would be pretty great if you actually had named them. Helga’s especially pretty.” She brushed her finger over the petals and tried to remember what they felt like. She would think of them when she touched Deirdre’s lips. Sometimes they were so smooth, just a little sticky with her matte color of the day. Maybe this flower was like that. Morgan smiled fondly at the association. At last she put her phone away and sat up, simply enjoying the light in the moment. She took a deep inhale, but all she got was a faint whiff of...flower. She couldn’t detect enough to separate anything besides that soft, pollen-y perfume. “I...had my sense of smell damaged in an accident,” she said at last. “Nothing’s like it used to be. But it’s okay, if you don’t know how to describe it. And it’s probably hard, with so many around…” She let the thought go with a sad sigh, then sat a little straighter, forcing herself to brighten. “How did you find this? I know it’s your job to be here, but it must have taken a while to notice.”

For a moment, Eilidh’s eyes glanced upon Maybe-Helga: a beautiful white flower with magenta freckles at the base of elongated petals. She wished she knew what they thought of the name. She’d try asking another time. “Hm, maybe.” Before musing on that thought for too long, she looked back at the sound of Morgan taking a deep breath. Watched as her features and her words darkened in the aftermath, a rolling cloud casting a shadow over the otherwise beautiful day. Eilidh wanted to help. But she couldn’t even pretend. The true complexities of their scents had been lost to the forgetfulness of time. A part of a life she pretended was fully disconnected from her. What she could detect now was all she could ever know. Not that it bothered her much; how could you miss something you never knew?

“I spend lots of time exploring. Probably too much.” She winked, pressing a finger on her lips. “Don’t tell anyone.” While she took her job seriously, she never understood the notion that her entire time had to be utilized for work, and work, and more work. What’s the point of being among flowers if she can’t (sort of) smell them? But that thought was pushed out when a rustle occurred just on the outskirts of the meadow. An intrigued hum rushed through her throat as she got a closer look of the– “Watermelon?” Odd. She hadn’t spotted it when they first got there. And watermelons don’t just appear out of nowhere. Taking another step forward, her eyes scanned the nearby area. Trying to detect whoever left it behind. Focus drawn elsewhere, the watermelon quickly rolled up to her without detection. She looked down and it rolled to a stop near her feet. As if struck by an invisible knife, it was cleaved in two. Fangs protruded out of each half, filling the newly opened space. Her eyes held curiosity at the action.

But it craved blood. Its fangs dug into her leg. With a shout, Eilidh started wrestling it off.

“Watermelon?” Morgan repeated. She had moved on to another flower, which had a pistil so large it made the flower look like a face with a long, odd nose, and was thinking of a person-name to give it. So she didn’t notice anything was wrong until Macleod screamed.

“Oh, shit--!”

Morgan scrambled to her feet and trampled through the flower patch to get to the other woman. “Hold on, you’re gonna be okay!” She shoved her arm between its wet melon jaws, forcing it loose enough for Macleod’s leg to come free. The melon, hungry for anything, chomped down on her arm, shredding her muscles to ribbons. Morgan clamped her jaw shut to muffle the sound of her scream and tried to bash the melon into the ground. But strong as she was, the melon was pretty hefty, and with the pain and awkwardness, she only managed to dent a few chunks off its bulbous shape. “I got this!” She choked out. “Get as far away as you can!”

Pent up force building up as she struggled, when the hold of the watermelon was released, Eilidh tumbled backwards. She shot back up to see… Morgan had taken her place? Eilidh didn’t know whether to be worried or impressed by her tenacity. But it was no time for introspection, it was clear Morgan was suffering. Eilidh stuck out the—non-chewed up—leg and fished out the iron dagger strapped to the thigh. Then she launched herself back into the fray. The blade struck deep into the green flesh. She pressed it forward, adding a new gash. But this time, no teeth sprouted out. Instead, it seized, trembling for a few moments, until stillness took over. The teeth relinquished themselves from Morgan.

She stared at the mangled arm. But something, something familiar, was off about it. “Fuck. Ok, let’s get you out of–” More rustling. Eilidh whipped her head to the sound. Two watermelons revealed themselves. Perhaps this was their area? She’d usually try and leave them alone at this point, if willing. Or in this instance, pick up Morgan and leave. But her leg was still healing, so she wasn’t sure if she’d be fast enough to outrun their roll. Making a decision, she gripped her leg, fingers encircling the flesh loosened by the first watermelon. She ripped off a chunk and threw it away from the flowers. Bait. Like hungry sharks, the two dived at the morsel. While they were distracted, she kicked into one so hard it bent her toes into the balls of her feet. The watermelon went flying into the trunk of a tree. Smash! Red chunks flew out of the mouth cavity as it rolled back onto the ground. Her eyes locked onto the remaining one. While her attention had been focused elsewhere, it had started making its move towards Morgan. But Eilidh interrupted, pouncing on it and sending stab after stab. It tried to roll away, the thing was surprisingly slippery considering, but with one final strike of her dagger, it stopped as well.

Morgan tumbled free and rolled onto the flowerbed. The watermelon’s teeth hurt coming out just as much as they’d hurt coming in. She dug her hands into the ground, ripping up grass as her arm knit itself back together again. “What are you doing? They’re gonna--” She turned her head toward the carnage. Macleod was--handling herself just fine? She saw the woman rip off her leg and use it as bait. The rest of Macleod’s watermelon slaughter passed in a daze. That woman had just ripped off her leg. She ripped off her leg like it was nothing and she didn’t have anything coming out of it except for a few black globs of blood. She didn’t even look phased. Was this what it felt like when people watched her cut off her fingers?

When the last watermelon had been stabbed to a pulp, Morgan sat up, staring at Macleod with open wonder. “You ripped off your leg to save me,” she said. “And I turned my arm into hamburger meat to save you.” She held out the still-healing arm for emphasis, laughing deliriously. The two of them pouncing on watermelons to save the day when neither of them were in danger of dying again. It was hilarious. “So...you’re a zombie too, huh?”

Eilidh looked over at the carnage. Hopefully those watermelons would have a better go next time. She nodded, a casual bow, with words leaving her lips, so soft they were illegible. She turned, remembering eyes were still on her. Passions had distracted her. In the heat of the moment, she forgot to consider how Morgan would react to, well, the way her body reacted to violence. Her leg was in clear view, already at work to reseal the newly torn muscles. There was no denying it; no future attempt at naivety. She considered her options. The grip on her dagger tightened. Wait, no, no, not that. Not again. She sighed. “Let’s just forget this and get you help.” But before she could pick up the injured woman, her eyes focused on her arm. The arm that was also in the process of healing. Same as her own tattered limb. Tissue that hadn’t been there just a moment prior concealed parts of the lesion, with more on the way. Where the fresh skin hadn’t been produced, a familiar black ooze leaked out. Arm mirrored leg. Realizing no real danger to Morgan was present, Eilidh relaxed. All the two needed was rest. She wished she had known that a minute earlier, though. Poor critters.

And there it was. That word. Tension returned, forcing her body into a straight fixture. Face contorted, words sour. “No, I’m not! I’m a–” She took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter what I am.” It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself rather than Morgan. “So you’re one then, yeah?”

“Oh, no!” Morgan said, grimacing with embarrassment. “It’s just. I’ve only seen two more of us. Ever. And one of them was my best friend who made me like this at the last minute. My last minute, not theirs, obviously. Uh--” None of these were the words she was actually trying to get out. “I’m not used to this. Or asking for personal terminology. Sorry. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I know the z word isn’t for everyone and I shouldn’t have assumed, I was just--” She looked at her haplessly. “It’s just been a really lonely time for me lately. And you’re--kind of incredible. And it does matter to me, what you want to be called. Very much. But yeah. I’m one too. A year now, so, still new. Newer at this than it feels like. How long have you been...you know? Do you meet a lot of people like us out here?”

While her ears listened to Morgan’s words, Eilidh’s eyes drifted to the blade in her hand—both slick and sticky with the juices of the fallen. Curiously—it was flesh after all—she gave it a lick, collecting the remnants of the slain creatures on her tongue. Nothing. She tasted nothing. Figures. She wiped the rest of the juices off with her sock before returning the dagger to its holster. Her eyes returned to looking, watching, Morgan. Studying her. The heat from her outburst still burned at her throat, but it started to cool as the woman’s words sunk in. The apology seemed genuine, and the attempt at reconciliation was appreciated. The creases on her face lifted, revealing a softer expression. Especially at the admittance to the newness of her existence and the loneliness following; at that she finally lifted her hands, patting the air in a calming motion. “It’s alright, it’s alright. That word is just—I hate it. But I’m not mad.” Not anymore, at least. The flow of apologetic words had been enough to calm Eilidh’s sudden temper. Brief silence followed as she looked Morgan up and down. Considering. “I’m a Slúagh. Similar to—yeah. But not the same. Guess we’re sorta like cousins in a way. Besides you, I’ve only met one zombie in White Crest. But I’ve seen a few here and there over the years.” Never another just like her, however. But she refrained from mentioning or even hinting at… them. That would only lead to further questions; questions she was not in the mood to answer. “And let’s just say I’m old.”

Morgan squirmed under the intensity of Macleod’s gaze. “Hated, noted,” she said. “I’ve never heard that other term before. Slu-aagh? Is it a regional thing, or a time period thing, do you think? But either way, I mean, all my birth family died before I did, so I barely remember what it’s like to have a cousin. This still feels really--I know we don’t have biochemical instant affinity for each other like fae do, but it feels wrong to brush off finding each other, when there don’t seem to be many of us who survive long enough to be found. And if we’re lucky, there won’t be many other people who can know us as long as we can. That, and we just saved each other…” She petered into laughter. “Even if we were pretty much fine the whole time. So, why not? Be friends, or as much as we can be to each other. Have you fed recently, by any chance? Because I have some meal prepped brain burgers at home, if you want. Or I could grab some of whatever you eat, if that’s something different. If you want, of course.”

“Slúagh.” The word rolled off her tongue naturally. “Not just a term. It’s what I am.” Eilidh insisted, that fire ready to return if resistance was found. At the following statement, Eilidh simply just stared. She couldn’t remember having—no, she’s never had a family. At least not biologically. Slúaghs can’t reproduce after all. No matter how much she had tried. With the mention of friendship, the blank expression plastered on her face shifted into the hint of a pleased one. Eyes widened in interest. It was always nice, making a new connection. And she was right. This existence could get lonely, in that sense. It was impossible to find those like her, and rare to run into those like Morgan. At least ones that had a good grip on themselves. Not everyone was cut out for their unique lifestyle, even with help. And moaning and groaning didn’t make for good conversation, though the wrestling could be fun. The other ones, well. Most acted like she was lying about who—what—she was. Sometimes the thought was enough to send her tempers firing. Enough to make her generally avoid association with them, in case of opposition. But for some reason she still craved that kinship. While the use of us didn’t go unnoticed, and her face had tensed at the usage, Morgan seemed to be less dismissive than the average. And those gentle eyes were very persuasive, inviting. Morgan reminded her of James; she should introduce them.

A drop of hunger stirred from within at the thought of feeding, dashing out any contemplation. “Nah. And getting your leg chewed to hell makes a gal hungry.” The damaged leg was close to appearing as if nothing happened, a craving the only reminder it did. She hummed curiously. “Brain burgers! Fun. I usually don’t bother cooking. So, brain burgers it is.” A small chuckle escaped her. “What a first friend date, though, huh?” She gestured to the watermelon gore surrounding them.

It meant far too much to Morgan to hear the word “friend date.” She was smiling too much. When she looked at the watermelon gore around them, she burst with laughter that startled two birds from their nest. She had to clench herself still to keep from bouncing. “Yes! I mean, to the burgers. They take awhile to make, getting some flavor to actually, you know, flavor, but they’re pretty nice! Not like what you remember, if you do remember, but it’s better than plain grey stuff.” And now she was talking too much again. As you do. Morgan got to her feet and dusted herself off. “But all this--” She gestured, laughing again. “I think that’s just how White Crest brings people together.”

[sideshow-wolfie]

Coming Out...

I've been happy with these terms for so long, I feel like I need to express it to you... Even if it felt a bit painful...

I'm proud to announce that I'm Genderfluid. I've been having a Gender Dysphoria for a long time, since 2 months into my Sophomore (11th) year, and I finally found out who I truley was... Previously I was Demigirl, meaning I was full girl, but different. THAT didn't suit me anymore as I got to February... I just went off as genderless, Aka Nonbinary. Nonbinary suited me for a little bit, until that wasn't the case either as Spring Break started. I looked through the information, and I finally found out why my Gender Identity changed constantly... In the end of April I discovered I was Genderfluid... What does that mean?

My gender identity changes around infinitely, and it concludes that my gender was never meant to be confirmed.... I was previously a girl, but I'm fine with They/Them Pronouns. ❤️

Here's an example:

Day 1: Nonbinary

Day 2: Bigender

Day 3: Pangender

Day 4: Demigirl

Day 5: Transgender

and the gender list goes on and mixes around everyweek and day.

Lastly, for the gender part, I have been connected to wolves for so long.. both mentally and physically.. so long that I did not realize what I was until now. (I was like this all the way back in 2012, when I was in elementary)

I kept thinking I was something else. I constantly howled when I'm home alone, and that I wish I had someone to do it with me... And I bark, like other wolves or werewolves...

Not that I'm Genderfluid, but I am also WolfGender. WolfGender means that I connect with Lycanthrope/Wolf/Werewolf Life, and that I was a wolf in the first place...

I have been questioning to myself if I was always going to be with a boy, girl, whoever else, or remain single for the rest of my life when I was a girl...

In 2014, I had watched a show that eventually made me feel this... attraction to people.

You guessed it...

Inanimate Insanity

But so to let you know, it is NOT season 1. It is season 2.

The character that started to make me attracted to a gender was Microphone... Microphone was a hyped contestant, but eventually things got deep for her... I had loved this character for 6 1/2 years, and I kept constantly drawing her as a werewolf... Whenever I drew Mic, I felt happy. When I was 10 years old, I got a T-Shirt of her... My god I felt like life was complete ❤️

Throughout Middle School, I have had my first relationship with someone... Zero was my first crush that I had ever hung out. However, long story short, we broke up due to multiple toxic reasons (Involving me, and It was my fault...).

That took me a whole year to move on, and breakups aren't that easy to get over sometimes. I thought I couldn't be happy anymore, until I found Cory...

Cory was also a girl, like how I was... We both met on deviantart, and we would always hang out with each other. We both liked the same thing, and we like the same kinks (Aagh, I apologize for mentioning!!), But they weren't NSFW, don't worry! Me and Them would always chat on Discord... But then I developed a crush on them... Cory felt suprised when I told them how I was starting to feel... It had been 2 years since I fell in love with someone, and I was happy that the feeling came back.

However, we didn't start a relationship just yet... and was called off early a week after I told them in March, due to the fact they were shy... I understood that feeling. What honestly almost lost my future was the prom. Originally, Cory DID have a prom date to celebrate their night, but he cheated on them for another female... When they told me that he cheated on them, I knew It was time for me to become who I was meant for...

I wanted to be a Lesbian for the rest of my life... And it was my time to have that chance again... I was NOT desperate, but I wanted to make our future into a perfect never-ending chapter... We got together in April 2020 (during the COVID-19 pandemic), and I am happy to announce that we are still a couple! Though there ARE a few changes...

Cory eventually became Genderqueer and Bisexual, because they fell in love with a person (which is now a girl), and... I kinda felt anxious, but hey, it's all settled... Cuz, love is love.

I became Genderfluid, but I mainly identified as a boy, and considered to myself as Gay (I still did NOT want to be reminded of my previous relationship with Zero nor the Guy that had used me for Sexual Assault).

Both of us had felt more... And I realize that Love can and will be infinite 💙❤️🖤♾

So Everyone, Yes I am gay, but I'm also Polyamorous! Unfortunately it IS illegal in the United States, so this is why I'm not telling my school or my family about this... They do accept me for being Gay, but not the Polyamorous part. Again, I'm not telling them I'm Poly, in order to keep myself from being attacked and teased.

To Finalize my Coming Out Blog, I am also feeling attracted to something else... Kinda like how I fell in love with Microphone, but was from another show.

The show was called The Simpsons.

The Simpsons is one of the oldest animated sitcoms, yet it is still the funniest hits I had ever watched from Fox. Without them, I wouldn't have typed this final part...

However, I was not attracted to Marge, Homer, Lisa or anybody... In fact I was in love with a phsycopath... It isn't Snake Jailbird, or Homer's Killer...

I'm In love with Sideshow Bob (Robert Terwilliger).

At that moment when I felt flattered whenever he spoke, or was shown in some scenes of the show (old and new seasons, EXCEPT FOR HIS OLDER APPEARENCE)... I had drawn him for the first time, but it was kinda crappy, because I never drew a Simpsons character in my life. When I was younger I drew Itchy and Scratchy... For a while I stopped... I had a crush on both Itchy and Scratchy... Now it's that Palm Tree Haired Cutie. ❤️

I suddenly got curious if it was possible to love an character like him as a babe... Google gave me and answer, and It found out what my puzzle was.. it's not Bisexual, which I kinda figured...

Apparently, I am Fictosexual. I am in love with animated characters, whether from an adult animated show, teen animated, and POSSIBLY all-family animated show... Which Technically for me, I would always lay my heart on Bob's.

In Conclusion, it's ok to love who you care about, and what you care about, and it is okay to be true to yourself. You can be who you are, and who you think will make you happier, even if it is animated X3

Happy Pride, everyone! YOU ARE ALL VALID!!

#LoveIsLove

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 205

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 Go Go! 07 - “Let’s Go! Palmier Kingdom!” Date watched: 31 January 2021 Original air date: 16 March 2008 Screenshots Transformation Gallery Project info and master list of posts

insert quip here

When we left off, the friends were rushing off to Palmier Kingdom because Milk said there was an emergency. It turns out Milk may have been stretching the truth, but of course, danger follows the Rose Pact wherever it goes, so her lie quickly becomes reality. How will the Precures fend off a new enemy? How will Coco and Nuts prove their dedication to their citizens? How will Milk learn the value of doing your part? How will we continue setting up Milky Rose? You’re about to find out!

The Plot

As they fly to the Palmier Kingdom on Syrup’s back, Coco wonders what kind of terrible danger it may be in. King Donuts lectures him and Nuts for leaving the kingdom in the first place because of the inability to protect their people. Meanwhile, in the Palmier Kingdom, there seems to be no trouble afoot at all. The citizens are hard at work rebuilding the palace and buildings. Everyone is chipping in..... except for Milk, who is sitting by a wall, neglecting her responsibilities. Papaya, the mustachioed fairy who was Coco and Nuts’s tutor in the past, sternly reminds her to concentrate on her work; Milk retorts that she can’t concentrate if she’s worrying about the Kings, and Papaya counters that supporting the people is the job of a caretaker. Milk takes this as well as you may expect.

this level of sass would be unrivaled until a certain mermaid swam onto the scene in 2021

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Syrup. Milk excitedly walks over to see if he brought a letter from Coco and Nuts, when suddenly the girls spring up, followed by the kings. Milk gets misty eyed, declares she missed them, and begins running straight towards an expectant Nozomi. What follows is a glorious bait and switch.

Milk dives right past Nozomi to tackle her beloved kings.

Over in Eternal, we see a new character walking down the hallway. He is soon revealed as another general of the organization, Nebatakos. He drops a collection item off, a starving animal, and he indicates he only fed it enough to stay alive. Anacondy scolds him for his negligence but informs him that the Rose Pact is in the Palmier Kingdom should he wish to retrieve it. How exactly she knows this is unclear.

Wilson Fisk he ain’t

Back in Palmier Kingdom, Papaya chews out Milk for implying there was an emergency and causing the Precures and Kings to return. (The kings themselves aren’t too fussed about it, for what it’s worth.) She weakly justifies her actions by saying that the loneliness people felt without their leaders was a critical situation and then runs off. While Milk stews over her feelings, Coco, Nuts, and the girls join the rebuilding efforts, spending some quality time with the people and with each other. Coco admits to Nozomi that he wanted to show her the kingdom when it was rebuilt but she’s not disappointed. At the same time, Komachi discusses King Donuts’s lecture with Nuts, who admits the monarch was right in his assessment of their shortcomings and he and Coco have work to do in becoming proper leaders. Karen worries about Milk, who is hiding behind a rock outside the kingdom, but Syrup finds her. He gives her some grief about shirking her duties as a caretaker, and she admits that she took the position to stay close to Coco and Nuts. When they turned around and left, Milk felt lonely and that’s why she wrote the letter. Syrup, still exhausted from rushing to get everyone here, collapses, and Milk apologizes, recognizing her fault in his fatigue.

Syrup has no chill

Everyone is taking a break in the kingdom, eating some giant fruits that look like a cross between a coconut and a papaya. They are apparently DELICIOUS.

please make memes out of this.

These are palmier fruits, and they come from the namesake tree of the kingdom. The giant palm trees have great cultural significance, so Nozomi decides she’ll plant the seed of her fruit to grow another.

Unfortunately their break is interrupted by the arrival of Nebatakos, who demands to know the location of the Rose Pact. When they don’t give it up, he transforms into his monster form of a gray and gold octopus man and begins destroying the precious palmier trees. The girls transform, but not to be outdone, Nebatakos turns the nearby hill (where Milk and Syrup are) into a Hoshiina. Coco and Nuts start evacuating their citizens to safety while the Precures fight the villain and his lackey. Since he’s new, he manages to keep the upper hand, and the girls quickly find themselves at the end of their rope. However, most of the battle is actually focused on Coco and Nuts evacuating their citizens with some help from Milk and Syrup, who fly people to safety. Seeing this, King Donuts laments his inability to help since he’s stuck in the Rose Pact healing. When Nebatakos confronts the Palmier fairies holed up in the castle, Coco bravely leads him away from the civilians, allowing himself to be caught as a diversion. Dream sees Nebatakos strangling him from afar, but she can’t break away from fighting the Hoshiina, so Nuts steps out with the Rose Pact, and King Donuts standing proud inside of it, to face Nebatakos and get him to release Coco. King Donuts pops out for a moment and unleashes a blindingly bright blue light that stuns Nebatakos and the Hoshiina for a moment before he collapses. The Rose Pact falls away from them, and unseen by anyone else in the commotion, it glows blue and emits a bright blue seed.

This will not be important later on, pay it no mind.

King Donuts’s stun attack also gave the Precures enough of an opening to turn the tide of the battle, and they rescue Coco before setting up the Hoshiina and Nebatakos for their special attacks. Aqua unleashes a Sapphire Arrow on Nebatakos, which really takes the wind out of him, and then Dream performs Shooting Star. Nebatakos teleports away, leaving the Hoshiina to take the full force of the attack and it disintegrates.

After the fight, King Donuts is still incredibly weak but admits he was inspired by everyone’s bravery and wanted to help out however he could. He doesn’t say it aloud but he seems to be gaining respect for them as rulers. After that, it’s time for the visitors to leave. Everyone loads up into Syrup after saying their goodbyes to Milk, Papaya and the citizens. Milk gives an inspiring speech to everyone about doing their best while the Kings are away and says an extra special goodbye to Karen. Nozomi asks her to take care of the palmier seed she planted. At last, they fly off, and eventually the crowd dissipates, leaving only Milk. She starts to cry, but then she sees a split-second premonition of the blue seed being held in a tender pair of hands.

Milk turns around and sees the actual blue seed behind her, glowing, so she picks it up and stares at it inquisitively as the scene fades to black.

The Analysis

Honestly having an episode about visiting another world take place this early in any Precure season is really unheard of, but given the circumstances I’m glad they did. Getting to see Palmier Kingdom being rebuilt drives home how much there is to be done, how much damage Nightmare caused, and how strong their community is that they can band together to do this. It also really only works because of this being a sequel, if this had been a brand new show I don’t think this would have been as effective. Even if this series doesn’t always know what to do with its second season, it does have moments like this that make it worthwhile.

More than any other episode I can recall in the past season, this episode is much more about the fairies than the humans. Coco, Nuts, Milk, and King Donuts each have arcs throughout this episode that play into their overall roles in the story. Coco and Nuts are still reckoning with King Donuts telling them he doesn’t acknowledge them as kings yet (and if you forgot it from last episode, it’s one of the first things he says in this one), but they take the chance to self-reflect on their shortcomings and strive to do better. They get some moments of introspection as they help to rebuild, which show their different perspectives and priorities. Coco is a bit sad that he couldn’t show the fully rebuilt Palmier Kingdom to Nozomi, because he wants to show her the kingdom as he remembers it, but she thinks it’s beautiful already because of his efforts. 

I can show you the world. Shining, shimmering, splendid!

Meanwhile, Nuts takes a more introspective approach as he discusses his feelings with a worried Komachi. She’s afraid that he’s offended by King Donuts’s remarks, but he admits he actually agrees, and that he and Coco have work to do if they’re going to be effective leaders. Later on, they display sincere, unprompted heroism in helping and protecting the citizens during the attack. They tend to the scared and wounded, they ensure everyone is holed up in a secure location so they don’t get injured in the fight, and they protect the civilians by distracting the villain.

Seeing the way the young rulers act in their natural element, in various situations, helps to warm King Donuts up to them. He’s largely unseen during the bulk of the episode, but he’s present at a few crucial points. First, as they all fly towards Palmier, he reminds Coco and Nuts in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t recognize them as kings yet. He’s present during Milk’s first disciplining, and then during the climax when Coco and Nuts are at their best, their bravery spurs King Donuts himself to take action against Nebatakos. He recognizes he’d be a hypocrite if he tells the Kings to protect their citizens while he himself cowers inside the Rose Pact, and that’s why he overexerts himself to buy a little bit of time. Interestingly, his act of bravery seems to be what triggers the Rose Pact to deposit the blue seed. It’s nice to see how he’s begun to accept them after seeing their courage and leadership in a pinch. He’s not such a bad guy.

Most importantly, this episode begins a  new character arc for Milk. It’s not a complete reset to where she was on her initial introduction in the last series, but her dependency on Coco and Nuts comes a lot more into focus when they’re not around for her to fawn over. We know she’s been sending a lot of letters, and it turns out she’s doing this at the expense of her other responsibilities towards rebuilding Palmier Kingdom. When called out on her selfishness that made the Kings return and put themselves at risk, she brushes it off and insists she was right, their absence created a critical situation because everyone was lonely without them. In reality, she seems to be the only one who’s lonely and she’s projecting. However, after talking with Syrup she feels some remorse. When Nebatakos attacks she sees the Kings in danger as the direct result of her choice, exactly what Papaya warned her could happen. She takes some initiative during the panic by evacuating some citizens, and afterwards she sees Coco and Nuts off dutifully with an impassioned speech to the citizens. She talks eagerly about about how hard the Kings are working to find the four monarchs, so the citizens have to work hard at home as well. (however, it’s Milk, so whether or not she’s actually learned her lesson from earlier is doubtful) It’s character development, arguably more than she got in the entire previous series, and while I recall in broad strokes where she winds up at the end of the series, I don’t recall in detail what happens so I do still hope they build further on this.

As for the actual protagonists of the show, it feels strange to say this but they don’t do much until the climax. Things happen to them or around them, but as I explained it’s really more of a mascot focus episode. They arrive in Palmier, reunite with Milk, are present at her scolding, and assist in rebuilding. Karen has some dialog about looking for Milk but we don’t really see this. The episode chooses to focus on exposition over action, breaking the cardinal film rule of “show don’t tell.” There is a nice moment about halfway through where Coco and Nuts tell the girls about the significance of the Palmier Tree but again, that’s not them doing stuff. Nebatakos’s attack is when they become more prominent, but even then the fight is interspersed with scenes of the rescue efforts. The girls land a few hits on the villain and the Hoshiina, and then the attention goes back to the fairies for a while with only brief glances at the combat. Dream is worried about Coco when Nebatakos is strangling him but she’s blocked from leaving her fight until King Donuts uses his blinding light and creates an opening for her to rescue him. This allows the girls to set up some combos for their finisher, and then we next see them loaded into Syrup ready to leave. Again, Karen offers kind encouragement to Milk, and Nozomi requests her palmier tree be tended to, but nothing more deep or significant than this.

Nebatakos is a unique new villain. He seems smarter than Scorp, but he’s very indifferent to other people and living beings. I don’t think we’ve had a character quite like him before. He’s callous and efficient, he knows what buttons to push and he just does what he does for a check. When he realized the palmier trees were important, he began crushing them to cause mental anguish. He nearly strangled Coco, which I believe is a first for this series. Had it not been for Nuts and King Donuts, he may not have made it. His visual design is very interesting, as he’s based on an octopus (tako=octopus). He’s a fleshy gray mass with gold armor on his upper body, he has two tentacle arms that bisect or trisect at the ends to function sort of like long fingers. He has, depending on the art in a given frame, between six and eight tentacles that he uses as legs, and most often they are wound together so he can walk bipedally, but he does sometimes unwind them and walk around on multiple tentacles, or use his leg tentacles for grappling purposes. In theory it would make him more versatile, in practice he doesn’t do any creative, unique things with his anatomy like grabbing all five girls at the same time. At least not in this fight. His stand-out feature is his monster voice. He has this gurgling quality to it and I’m not sure if it’s a special vocal filter or the actor is doing it naturally. It helps to sell his aquatic nature and I enjoy it.

The art style of this episode is a little bit off. The animation was directed by our old friend Kawano Hiroyuki, who I’ve pointed out before when his bad faces show up. His signature weird smiles and awkward camera angels are on full display here.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad, but when it is, it’s noticeable. He also gave us this great Nozomi face so I think that balances out.

art

Also speaking of art and animation, there’s a pretty bad goof near the end as the girls fly off.

your device is not malfunctioning, this gif is 1/4 speed

If you notice, the artist completely forgot to draw the part of Komachi that should be visible beneath Urara’s hair. For the entire shot.

If you’ve seen the show before, or you know what the Blue Rose is, you know where the ending of this episode eventually leads to. I’ll assess the Blue Rose arc more once it concludes but so far I enjoy the setup. This episode takes the time to reverse perspectives by having the heroines be the strangers in another land while the mascots are in their home environment. It’s a unique and creative way to continue the plot while also setting up some character arcs and transitioning from the character reintroductions over to the meat of the show. It explores a seldom-seen avenue by showing us the fairy world rebuilding and recovering and that’s one of the ways that GoGo really stands out from the crowd as a very solid sequel that builds on what came before rather than just being more of the same (like much of Max Heart).

Next time on Precure Daily: Syrup’s past begins to unravel! Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 Kettei! (in the preview)