#ok so basically this is like a soulmate au

[c0sm1c-c01nc1dence]

Red

✧ Pairing: Hunter x human!reader ✧

✧ Content/warnings: Soulmate AU, takes place during season 3, use of the word ‘damn’ once, the title is bland and I’m sorry, Hunter and the reader are both dorks, first post on here!! ✧

The “rules” for soulmates, as it were, were pretty straightforward. You see everything in the color of your soulmates eyes. Once you make eye contact with them you can see in full, proper colors. Seems simple enough, doesn’t it? Well, not for you, it wasn’t.

You, for the past sixteen or so years of your life, had been seeing nothing but red. Different shades, thank god, but red nonetheless. And to be frank, you were getting pretty damn fed up with it. The thing is that no one naturally has red eyes. And you would know; you’ve googled it maybe a thousand times already.

So you were fairly certain you didn’t have a soulmate, and this was all some cruel joke from the universe. But life marches on, so there’s no time to dwell on that, is there?

───── ───── ───── ─────

Another day at Gravesfield’s high school, bland as ever. At least until you caught a glance at your friend Luz. Rather, former friend. She’d been acting weird ever since she came back from that ‘reality check’ camp. And not standard Luz weird, no— she’d been avoiding you since then. Acting like she didn’t know you at all whenever you approached her, not to mention her sudden lack of interest in anything she used to like. The Good Witch Azura books, most notably.

So, needless to say, you were a bit surprised at her new look. Curly hair, a new scar over her eyebrow, and a general air of seasonal depression about her. Even though your recent interactions hadn’t gone so smoothly, you couldn’t help but ask. You were still allowed to care about her.

“Luz?” You called out from down the school hallway. She turned her head in your direction, and you could practically see the stars in her eyes when she saw you. She ran towards you, almost tackling you in a hug. Stumbling backwards, you hesitantly returned the gesture. “Good to see you too?” You awkwardly pat her back, unsure of what to do at the moment.

“Y/N, I am so glad to see you! Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” She backed away and wiped a small tear from her eye.

“We saw each other yesterday, though?” You chuckled, still perplexed by this whole situation. “Seriously, what’s going on? You’re kinda acting like you just came back from war right now.” Her face fell slightly, but her smile quickly returned.

“Meet me at my house once school’s done, ok? I have… a lot to tell you.” You nodded, and watched her just walk away casually after that interaction.

“Cool. Good talk, I guess?”

───── ───── ───── ─────

“So, if I’m following,” You began, now in the Noceda family’s living room. “You didn’t go to summer camp, but instead spent several months in a fantasy world, and the Luz I’ve been interacting with is actually a shape-shifting basilisk.” You pointed to Vee, who nodded shyly. “And in this fantasy world you became a witch, made a bunch of new friends, and got a girlfriend.” You left out the details involving Belos and the Collector, deciding that you didn’t need to recap whatever nonsense was going on there.

“Yeah, actually. You’re handling this surprisingly well.” Luz noted.

“I think I’m still in shock, to be honest.” You laugh a bit in disbelief. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what she’d been through during those months, and you kind of didn’t want to. “So, more importantly, do I get to meet these new people?” You questioned, and her face brightened.

“Of course! They’re upstairs, so let me go get them and I’ll be right back.” You waited downstairs with Vee, exchanging basic small talk. She apologized for the whole ‘impersonating one of your few friends’ thing, which was nice of her. Eventually Luz came back, new friends and girlfriend following behind her.

“Alright! Everyone this is Y/N.” You gave a polite wave, quickly scanning over the group. “Y/N, this is Willow, Gus, Amity, and Hunter.” You got a proper look at all of them as she said their names, your eyes landing on the blond last. Wait a minute, blond?!

As it would turn out, when you made eye contact with Hunter you could suddenly see a lot more colors. He clearly noticed this as well, as a light blush was present on his cheeks and ears. You could feel some heat rise to your own face as well.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Luz asked, noticing your stunned silence.

“I, uh…” you stumbled over your words like an idiot, still staring at him. Saving what little dignity you had left, your phone dinged from your pocket. Checking the notification, you gave an awkward smile and held it up to the group. “Oh! You know what, that’s my dad. He probably wants me home for dinner!” You put your phone back in your pocket, and began approaching the door. “I’ll see you guys later, okay, bye!”

You got the words out as quickly as you could, and bolted as soon as the door was open. You ran back to your house, face still flushed from embarrassment and being generally flustered, leaving a room full of witches (and one human) awfully confused.

“Hunter, what was that about?” Willow asked, as he still stared at the spot where you once were.

“Um- good question.”

───── ───── ───── ─────

Later that day, Hunter knocked on the door to Luz’s bedroom.

“Come in.” She said idly, distracted by whatever she had been playing on her Switch. He entered her room, hands anxiously fidgeting at his sides. There wasn’t a particularly easy way to say this, so he just bit the bullet.

“So, you know the whole thing with your soulmate, and how you’ll only see in their eye color until you make eye contact?”

“Yeah?” She encouraged, curiosity evident in her tone.

“Well, it’s possible that maybe, perhaps, Y/Nismysoulmate.”

“What?!” She immediately paused her game, and whipped around to face him. “Really?! Tell me everything!” She sat on the ground and patted the spot next to her, encouraging him to sit down. He did so, face red from having to explain the whole ordeal.

“There’s nothing to tell! I used to only see e/c, I looked at them, now I can see every color, and they— I always thought your hair was black, by the way— and they just ran away!” As Luz sat and processed this information, Hunter continued thinking out loud. “Did they not like me or something? Is it because I’m from the Boiling Isles?” He questioned, grabbing the pointed tips of his ears. Cutting his rambling short, Luz spoke up.

“No, I don’t think so. They were always interested in fantasy like I was. Maybe they were just a bit overwhelmed?” She suggested. He sighed.

“I guess that could have been it.” He said, though the anxiety was still clear on his face.

“Hey, how about I try to get them to come over this weekend? You guys can talk about it then.” He nodded, and watched her grab her phone to message you. Titan, he hoped she was right about this.

───── ───── ───── ─────

A few days had gone by since the whole incident with Hunter. You had been avoiding him since then, though you honestly weren’t sure why. If you had to, though, you’d say it was probably out of shock. I mean, you were convinced you didn’t have a soulmate for years. And now this incredibly good-looking boy comes in from another realm, and he’s supposedly perfect for you? It’s absurd!

Though it was also worry. How would a relationship between the two of you even work out? He’d have to go home eventually, and you probably couldn’t come with him. Maybe he wouldn’t even like you after the way you left the other day, and he’d reject you before you even had a chance. That’d put a quick and easy end to all this.

You’d been really sick of the color red these past couple days. You usually were, but now it was for an entirely different reason.

Though you couldn’t avoid your problems forever, despite your best efforts. Luz had invited you over for a board game night to celebrate the two of you reuniting. And, well… who were you to say no?

───── ───── ───── ─────

The day finally came, and it had been going relatively well so far. No one else seemed to know what had happened or why you left that first time you came over. Though you and Hunter had been carefully dancing around each other the whole time. It seemed neither of you were equipped to talk about your feelings at the moment. But were you really ever?

Eventually you saw him slip out the front door. With a sigh, you decided to finally face the problem. No use in stalling any more than you already have. After telling Luz that you were going outside for a moment, you stepped out and saw Hunter sitting on the steps leading to the front door. He turned around at the noise, and immediately turned back the other way when he saw it was you. Wordlessly, you sat down next to him. After a moment, he finally broke the silence.

“You look really nice.” You glanced at him, and saw the pink dusting his face. You smiled at the way his blush would spill out onto his ears.

“Thanks, but I’m not really wearing anything special.”

“I know,” He continued, finally meeting your eyes. “I just mean, like- you look nice. You’re really cute.”

“Oh.” You said, quite simply, now blushing a bit as well. You looked at the ground beneath you, pondering how exactly to go about this. “So, this whole ‘soulmate’ thing, huh?”

“Yeah.” Was all he managed. His hands toyed with his pants, still a bit nervous about this whole ordeal. Unable to find the words he wanted, Hunter just looked out at the surrounding neighborhood for a bit. Eventually, though, he said the one thing that was on his mind at the moment. “So… what do we do now?”

“Well, if I may suggest something scandalous?” His blush deepened at your words, but quickly faded as he watched you intertwine your hand with his own.

“Wow, and we’re not even married yet.” He joked. You put your free hand up defensively.

“I know, I know! What can I say, I like to live on the edge.” He laughed, and you silently basked in the sound. You set your eyes on the sky above you, a handful of stars already visible in the late evening’s light. Maybe red isn’t half bad after all.

[weast-of-eden]

I've been thinking about how I could contribute to the ACD/Granada Sherlock Holmes fandom for a while, seeing as I'm neither an artist, a writer, or anything actually useful lol. But then I realized something I myself always treasure are curated fic recs, which I could actually do! I've read probably like 25% of all the h/w ACD and Granada fics on ao3, so I compiled a short list for anyone who is just starting out with the fandom. Without further ado, may I present

Eden’s Top Picks for Beginning ACD/Granada Fics:

(edit: i made a second list here!!)

The Adventure of the Doctor's Heart by mistyzeo 12k | Rated E Summary: Holmes has observed much of Watson's habits and tastes over time, which is why it surprises him when his friend objects strangely to a folk song sung at the conclusion of a case. Disturbed by the Doctor's unexpected display of emotion, Holmes becomes determined to lift his spirits by any means necessary, with mixed results. Notes: obviously if you're going to read canonverse h/w, you are going to read mistyzeo. this one is just so good and angsty and features music (!!). it's got some steaminess but it also has wooing. basically it has everything you ever need. this is my odyssey, my iliad, my hamlet, etc.

Cameo by what_alchemy 8k | Rated M | For Archive Users Only Summary: Holmes and Watson become embroiled in a case Scotland Yard refuses to acknowledge. A soulmate AU. Notes: i honestly skipped over this fic for a while, since i'm not the biggest fan of soulmate aus. do not make the same mistake i did, because this shit HITS. this fic has hit after hit: soulmate-mark based case for our main duo, angst, hiatus feels, MORE ANGST, and ofc a happy ending. ugh. read this fic if you enjoy being happy.

A Tide That Does Not Turn by tweedisgood 3k | Rated T Summary: Holmes is a very bad patient with a devoted doctor who adores him. Watson wishes it was safe to speak up, but his friend is a tide that does not turn. Notes: do NOT read this if you don't like angst... ok now i'm sensing a pattern. anyways this is the first hurt/no comfort fic i read for this tag and i literally have cried more than enough tears over it. poor, poor watson :( iconic author though, read everything they write!

The Adventure of the Glad Outlaw by radondoran 7k | Rated T Summary: While Sherlock Holmes solves the mystery of a student's disappearance, Dr. Watson is more puzzled by the changing dynamic between his flatmate and himself. Notes: cute pastiche! a nice little mystery and a nice little get-together. ahhhhhh.... this fic is like cotton candy to me, so sweet and fluffy. defo recommend

Hands by MinorObsessions (draculard) 1.4k | Rated T Summary: Naturally, there are some things Watson thinks about Holmes that don't make it into the books. Notes: i'm also in the star trek fandom, so if you know anything about that then you know that hands are kind of A Thing in both circles and ergo i now Have A Thing about hands. so this is a nice little ode to holmes' hands, featuring some doctoring by watson AND a nice reverse appraisal at the end. it's so sweet :)

Conductor of Light by ColebaltBlue  1.4k | Rated T Summary: A Victorian stiff upper lip won't prevent you from falling in love, but it might prevent you from realizing it. Notes: they finally get their shit together! honestly i would recommend this fic to anyone just starting out with h/w fics in any medium. the characterization and dialogue is A1, and their argument is really realistic to me, idk. also features the iconic HOUN quote for its title so props to that!

A (Mis)fortunate Man by sans_patronymic 1.5k | Rated T Summary: December, 1880. Watson writes a note which may be his last. December, 1899. Watson writes back. Notes: READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING. this was a gut-wrenching read but god i cried at the end for watson. don't worry, this one has a happy ending. ugh now i wish there was a second chapter where watson lets holmes read the letters. to sum up: oof, my heart

The Second Smartest Man in London by FairSinner 73k | Rated E Summary: Dr John Watson returns from Afghanistan to Victorian London, wounded, traumatised and alone. When he meets Sherlock Holmes, his life begins to seem worth living again. But Holmes is a man who despises sentiment and Watson cannot seem to expunge it from his heart. Notes: congrats, you've made it to the end!! so now i must confess that it's been a loooong time since i've read this fic, but the private note i left on my bookmark was just "holy shit", so i'm sure it's a banger. i'm also sure it has angst because i love angst and i love bookmarking angst so i can read it again and again and suffer infinitely. enjoy :)

anyways, now that i've put these all here i realized how much i enjoy angst and hurt/no comfort fics. if any of you guys have a favorite fic you want to link or want to plug your own writing, feel free to!

[ruddyhotelau]

Hey I read the post where you mentioned about 9 AU for justicestatic if u don't mind I would like to know about au even a short one liner is enough!!

I am really curious and love your Au!!

Ok till the moment I answer this question, the amount of AU increase to 14 AU =)))))))

Nate did draw sketches for some AU in the list, we will break it down for you.

1. Hellaver Secret

This AU started our Hellaverse Journal, it is the combination of Hazbin Hotel and an anime called Spy x Family. Mixing the lore of both media to create a plot that balances between fantasy and slice of life . The main couple in this AU is RadioApple, JusticeStatic is only a side dish that we came up with as a joke at first.

Basically, in this AU, Samael gave up his position as a Seraphim to become a normal human and changed his name to Lucifer. He's currently an assassin, a daughter he has with his long lost wife - Charlie, a telepath that can read people's mind and Lucifer form a fake marriage with a man named Alastor - a spy in disguise.

Michael is still an Archangel in this AU, he came down to Earth to bring his brother back to Heaven and somehow agreed to a business deal with Alastor's coworker - Vox. Even tho they hate each other, they still try to work things out because they both want to break the fake Morningstar couple.

2. Ruddy Hotel

You guy already knew about this one =)))

But yea, basically role swap AU

3. Band AU

This is a human AU. All the Heaven siblings decided to create a rock band called Octagrams. Michael is the drummer of the band and Vox at first was their anti, like the kind of anti that will stalk you from behind. Vox is actually a very successful businessman but he's also a stalker cuz c'mon, it's Vox.

4. Students AU

They are high school students in this AU, and yes, Vox is older than Michael in most of our human AU. In this AU, Vox is a 12 grader student while Michael is in grade 10. If anyone wondering then no, they are not dating till later when they're both legal adults with jobs.

Michael: I think you should give up on that school already.

Vox: Shut up kid, I'm trying to concentrate.

5. Hotel Supervisor

In this AU, Michael already knew Vox when the TV was still alive. Michael has to come down Earth to do his jobs and somehow Vox was his next-door neighbor. Long story short, they then fell in love but in the end, Vox died and became a demon in Hell. Then, one day, Michael got a direct message from God ordering him to come down to the hotel, keep an eye on it and decide whether the hotel deserved a chance to prove redemption is possible. Vox then knew about Michael's appearance at the Hotel... After a long time of thinking carefully, he decided to knock on the hotel's door.

7. The contract

Michael is currently having a headache about the last extermination, about his brother and his niece, about their resistance, which could cause a misunderstanding for Heaven and made God think they want to rebel against Heaven. Michael needed to know what was happening in Hell as soon as possible and Vox was the most suitable choice for this job.

8. Soulmate AU

When humans turn 18, some of them will appear a small mark at their wrist, the mark that represent their soulmate. But love has never been easy, not everyone with the mark can find their soulmate because all the mark does is glow when your soulmate is making love with someone that is not you and you will be able to feel a faint electric shock when you meet them. The mark will disappear the moment your soulmate passes away.

Vox got his mark when he was 18. Some of his friends were jealous of him but all he felt was empty and annoyed. If anything, Vox is never the one who trusts in destiny and fate. Same with his soulmate - Michael, Archangel Michael got his mark as a gift from God but he never paid much attention to it. He didn't understand why God gave him this? The idea of himself getting attached to someone on first sight is something Michael can't even imagine.

So they both waited for the day that their mark disappeared so they would no longer be bound to a stranger anymore.

But things never go as they expected...

Destiny must be crazy when it thought that tying an Archangel and a Sinner together was a good idea.

9. Get rid of you

Michael is currently a third year law student in this AU. One day, his younger sibling Gabriel thinks it's a good idea to fill that empty fish tank in his brother's house with some fish in some skeptical looking pet shop. Lilttle did the Morningstar siblings know the mini shark they picked up at the store that day was actually a demon in disguise.

10. Roommate AU

Vox, the Static Demon and Archangel Michael got summoned to Earth in another universe where Heaven and Hell didn't exist by a mysterious cult. Because they both came from the same universe so it's best that they stick together to survive in this familiar yet strange world. It took all of Vox's neuron nerve to convince Michael and after thinking carefully about his current situation, Michael knew he will have a better chance at getting back to his world if he co-operate with an Overlord and a better chance at blending in the human world with the help of someone who used to be a human. So even though he despised Vox's existence but for his future benefits, Michael is going to spare Vox's life.

So the two began to live together to find a way to come back to their world and to survive in this society without drawing any attention to their existence.

11. Guardian Angel

In this AU, all the siblings are the guardian angels for the humans.

Michael - Vox

Lucifer - Alastor

Raphael - Cherri Bomb

Gabriel - Niffty

Uriel - Husk

Jophiel - Velvette

Chamuel - Angel Dust

Azrael - Sir Pentious

Their mission is to guide their human on the right path but sadly, for Michael, he and his human are not getting along too well. Michael could only hope that he could get the guy to be 50% better at being a good person until the day Vox dies or else Michael is going to lose that promotion that he's always wanted.

12. Your Name

Inspired by an anime called "Your Name". Basically, it depicts the story of two college students, Michael and Vox, who suddenly swap bodies despite having never met the other, unleashing chaos onto each other's lives.

If you're wondering why they're doing weird expressions that doesn't match their personality is because in the pic, these two losers are swapping bodies, Vox in Michael's body and vice versa.

13. The Moving Castle

Inspired by an anime named "Howl's Moving Castle". Vox is an overly confident man who is cursed to have a demon body with a TV head by a spiteful witch. His only hope of breaking the spell is meeting a powerful, cold and distant wizard that travels around in his moving castle.

Michael's mind is filled with doubts when he sees Vox. He couldn't believe this vile man in front of him was the one he had been searching all alone and the one who could break his curse.

14. Apocalypse AU

Take place in the post-apocalypse world where almost everything was destroyed but with advanced technology. In this AU, Vox is a mad scientist and Michael is a soldier in a poor and small area.

So Michael and his siblings in this AU were all slaves when they were small. Some were sold to by dealer or black market and others came from a corrupted lab or were kidnapped. Because the 8 of them were locked in the same cage and all of them were around the same age so they got close with each other really quickly. (In this AU Michael and Lucifer are still twins) After knowing each other for a while, Lucifer came up with the idea that all of them should have a unique tattoo so even if they got split up in the future, they will still be able to recognize each other. So time passed, one by one was sold but the place collapsed before Michael got sold. And so he was able to escape then got adopted by a soldier.

Time passed, he became one of the protectors, an excellent and skilled soldier of the area. But one day, some people in the area started to go missing and Michael has been assigned the task of finding those missing people. And he was able to track Vox down. Vox noticed there has been some annoying rat following him lately, not to mention being the first to come this close to him in the first place. So he asked his old pal Alastor - a famous hitman to deal with Michael.

Then "BANG" - a clean bullet through the head, taking away Michael's life. Vox was not going to let Michael's body going to waste so what better way to reuse the body than to create a hybrid monster (The reason why Vox want to create a monster is because he remembered Al used to tell him a long time ago that he wondered how a monster tasted like. So Vox thought maybe if he created a monster and served it to Alastor, perhaps he could fix his relationship with Alastor)

So a monster was created and so did a broken screen. (Vox did change his screen later, don't worry) What will they face together afterward? What will the future hold? What kind of madness, wacky adventure and people awaiting them? It is something that they need to go through together in the future...

[auriidae]

LIFESTUCK ?!?! (pt 2 here!) (pt 3)

i was sick a couple days ago and spent like 12 hours straight doing nothing but classpecting life series characters and then was like Yeah i have to draw this now. so here's some sillies 👍 (super long classpect ramble under cut because i spent far too long on it not to share hfshjf)

quick note: i really really love @/classpect-navelgazing's theories and used them for a lot of the ideas here. go check their blog out it rules :]

ok you guys flower ranchers (scott tango jimmy) are making me so insane for this au specifically because of this idea i had about doom/life players. doom in true canon is related to inevitability, fate, and knowledge of the specific rules that keep the characters trapped within their story, right. and life is sort of related to healing, physically and mentally, within the confines of the game. so within this au, the aspect of life refers to the rules within the game that the players can see and are aware of (last life’s trading lives system + boogeyman, third life’s soulmate mechanic, secret life’s tasks, etc.). life players have some amount of dominion over these elements (depending on their class, of course). doom on the other hand refers to everything surrounding the games (stuff like admin powers, the world barrier, and whatever happens to the players after they die). 

as a mage of doom, scot (his name is so funny to me. like yeah he sure is) has a bunch of intrinsic knowledge about the way the games function on a logistical level. he’s like a guy who read the script a while ago and forgot all the characters’ names but knows the basic plot and how it’s going to end. or who knows all the ins and outs of tech crew and for whom the apparent magic of the show for the audience is lost on, since he knows how it’s being done. the thing is, scot isn't especially able to act on this knowledge during the game. what director wants someone in the audience — or one of the actors — taking all the magic out of the show, spoiling how it works and how it ends? no, it’s best if they keep that knowledge to themselves — and so scot’s narratively unable to affect the stories of those around him, even his close friends who he’d want to help. he’s aware of this, of course, which makes him more than a little depressed, as he can see the futility of it all and can’t even explain to anyone what’s going on and how the game works. (the only story he’s able to affect, of course, is his own. which. depressed doom player + mage martyr complex + guy who Really cares about his friends is not necessarily a good combination.)

the amount of stock i put in the idea of gendered classes is close to zero so tangoe gets to be a maid of life because ohh my goodness. i like the theory (thanks classpect-navelgazing) of life as “the aspect of affluence,” where life players usually enter the game with some kind of material wealth or status that helps their position in some way. i also like the idea that maid players start the game with a surplus of their aspect but often end up feeling as if they’re only seen as a provider of that specific thing as a result of this, and so end up longing for something else instead. this primarily applies to last life tango because that’s the season i’m most familiar with lol, but i thought the way he started out with so many lives there and quickly dwindled as a result of everyone taking from him and only him was Really interesting. mans has all the luck of the game he could need, but only wants friends to actually be able to live with. being a life player also ties into his little gambling games and things (again, dominion over stuff within the overarching game/story, but nothing beyond that).

then we get to jimi (again fantastic name). the basic premise of an heir is that they’re played by their aspect, right and Oh Boy is jimmy played by life in the life series. i don’t personally know much about anything he’s done other than heehoo canary guy but along with the previously stated points it’s So fun to see him as a life player because it allows for some really clearly contrast between the way he interacts with tangoe and scot based on their aspects. i really like the idea of scot being like “you’re a life player jimi. it's in your name. the game is not going to let you die” and jimi like “you really think so? aw thanks man” neither of them knowing that dying as a life player in this game is literally like in the job description. (ok. i kind of feel like i’m letting jimi down by basing his story so far around other people.. but this is just for fun and i can always change it later)

(also i could easily have put tangoe and jimi as doom players too but for the fact that i don’t think they necessarily see through the game as much as scot does (or at all). and so life it is.)

feel free to ask me questions abt them!!! i have so many thoughts about this bro 

[hatchetmanofficial]

Can we get some lore on the new cult? Au, like, what is it about how did mc find about it? Who do they worship that kinda of stuff?!?!?!?

ok so for those who don't follow twitter, recently i uploaded some quick doodles of a cult au for mdhm

I went with a kinda woodsy/folk/midsommar aesthetic. It was merely a fun idea but then i dwelled into the details bc i really love anything to do with the occult.

the basic story is these lovely members, yes, including Erika and Stu, are trying to indoctrinate MC, Alan especially wants to have an arranged marriage with them. They all live in the woods, worshipping the "Boss" in exchange for health, riches, and finding their soulmate. They wear animal masks to assign their roles in the cult but because they believe you should ONLY show your face to your life partner.

EDIT: i forgot some other details

they have a marriage tradition of exchanging seeds and planting them to symbolize their love

Erika is in charge of the clothing, especially for the bride or spouse or newcomers

their god kinda gives them signs on who to marry

[iiwaijime]

200 FOLLOWER EVENT

thank u guys so much for 200 followers in such a short period of time 🥹🥹 when i started posting my old PLUS NEW works again here i did NAWT expect to get back most, if not all, my pookies back !!

i saw other ppl ( @afyrian + @causenessus ) doing this and thought i'd like to try it too!! btw check out their ones cs they're amazing writers n congratulate them for their milestones👊💥

therefore formatting and stuff is heavily inspired by them,,,

.. n e ways!! basically u can send requests from the following thru asks!! feel free to mix n match!! anons/repeats are welcome!

-drabbles, short fics (<1000 words), smaus, hcs OK !

-doing characters from genshin, hsr, mha, haikyuu, jjk, bllk !!

- requests format example [🐙 🏪 with choso!] or [🦑💻 smau with kenma!]

genres

fluff 🐙 hurt/comfort 🦑

aus

arranged marriage 💍 artist/muse 🎨 blind date 🕶️ bookstore 📚 childhood friends 💥 coffee shop ☕ dancers 🩰 fake dating 🪩 flower shop 🌹 rockstar 🎸 sibling's best friend 🔥 soulmates 💗 streamer/content creator 💻 street racing 🏎️

one-word prompts

coffee 🏪 cooking 🍳 flowers 💐 hair 💈 pets 🐾 plane ✈️ rain ☂️ run 🐑 shoes 👟 sleep 💤 socks 🧦 sunshine ☀️ tea 🍵 water 🌊 yellow 🧀

quotes

"fuck you!" "sure." 🥧 "it's always been you." 🌯 "i can't lose you." 🍄 "is it too late?" 🍚 "it's not a good night unless you're here." 🍕 "i'm still not sorry." 🍰 "maybe we should kiss." "maybe." 🍓 "no matter what, i'll always be yours." 🧃 "you know, you can tell me anything." 🍣 "you're my best friend." 🍪 "you're my happily ever after." 🍺

mlist!!

flowers for the florist (sweets for the sweet) — bokuto kōtarō , 🐙🌹💐

hey lover — toji fushiguro, 🐙🍕

anything — rensuke kunigami, 🦑💗🍄

soft and stupid and smitten — tetsurou kuroo , 🐙🏎️🥧

dense — tobio kageyama , 💥🍚🍪

yes this is a confession — toge inumaki , 🐙💍💐🍺

shameless — rintarō suna , 🐙🍕🔥

[znitsamluv]

Hiii if ur not busy can you do this?

Soulmate AU Chifuyu x fem reader (who is a valhalla captain). Its the one where if your soulmate gets injured you get the same injuries too. So during the time when chifuyu got hit by the first punch by baji in the valhalla arcade, reader quickly realizes and basically runs out bc obviously she can't risk seeing being soulmates with a rivalling gang member.

The rest is up to you on how it goes. But if you don't want to do this its fine!

Fate !

Note: had some much writing this and I hope you liked it too anon since I am not really good with writing oneshots , anyway have fun.

Chifuyu x FEM!reader

Warnings: Kisaki, mentions of Bruises and fighting but not overly detailed just mentioned a few times.

" you are late ... Again "

I glanced at kisaki for a second and shrugged my shoulders not really feeling intimated

" My bad "

I walked away but didn't fail to hear kisaki scoffing, even though he is younger and weaker than most of us he wasn't a person to be taken lightly which makes me patient around his bratty attitude and lack of respect to those around him.

I walked further in the hideout and saw hanma grinning widely as two blonde boys wearing the toman uniform stood in the hideout, my eyes widened for a second they are really asking for death !

It all happened so quickly, I made eye contact with one of them and I felt an electric shock that lasted for a second leaving me with goosebumps.

'Huh?!' I couldn't even have time to process as Baji started beating up the blonde one which I heard his name was chifuyu, every blow and punch I felt it deep in my guts , I can feel my lungs struggle to breathe just like chifuyu must be feeling , I could feel my head spinning, he is going to pass out if I didn't do something.

I quickly pushed Baji away and looked at Hanma and kisaki.

" that's is enough we don't want to kill someone and cause problems"

My breath was shaky but I managed to hide it well , I was a higher rank member in Valhalla and my orders were as important as kisaki and hanma so other members started clearing the way.

" I will take care of that boy before toman realize he is missing "

I didn't wait to hear an answer as I bent down taking a hold of chifuyu's arm and pushing him to stand then making him lean on me as I dragged his half conscious body outside the hideout.

His pain was mine , I could feel how his jaw aches from Baji's earlier punches and how his left eye kept twitching in pain and I could only imagine the ugly bruise that will form later.

I couldn't walk really far with how heavy he was but I know that we were far enough to be out of sight , I gently placed him on a public bench in the park , looking at him from a closer angle made me realize he was quite handsome despite his visibly swollen face .

I continued to stare at him for a minute, a part of me telling me I should leave already as I saved him enough, and the other begging me to stay to make sure he was ok .

I sighed and messed with my hair in frustration seeing how no matter I tried to leave him like this it felt like a force was holding me back, if I can't leave then I should at least treat his face wounds since I could feel them as well .

I opened my backpack and took out my first aid kit , I took a deep breath as I held his chin softly wiping the dried blood before I use any treatment, my eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

'i'm doing this for me'

Even though my mind thought like this my soul knew otherwise, if it was another person I could have let Baji killed him and I wouldn't care , I wouldn't be standing here cleaning his wounds like I have known him for years .

I could feel Chifuyu stir awake and once he opened his eyes fully I was met with a push making me stumble back a little.

" What the hell?"

I looked at him with confused and irritated expression not really expecting this type of reaction, I saw how his eyes scanned me until it Landed on my Valhalla uniform and how visibly tensed he was.

" Where is Baji ?!"

" huh ?!"

I looked at him in disbelief, he must have hit his head hard to be thinking of someone else let alone the one who beat him like this when he was in this condition.

" I said where is Baji ?"

I can see how he tried to be intimidating but I couldn't help but let out a chuckle in amusement.

Chifuyu didn't know what was wrong but just hearing her chuckle made butterflies swim in his stomach.

" I think you should be caring about something else"

I touched the bruise on his cheek making him hiss in pain .

" look , I am not here to hurt you, just let me finish helping you and I will leave"

I looked at his eyes as I talked trying not to lose focus, Chifuyu knew he couldn't move after what happened not long ago and he wouldn't mind staying here .... You felt oddly comfortable to be around , his heart beating faster once he noticed the string tattoo on your arm which just looks like his , he always heard how soulmates have matching indicators and for him it was the tattoo.

" You- "

The words got stuck in his throat, seeing how close you were to his face , feeling your breathe fan at his face , the string tattoo starting to get tighter making him hiss slightly.

" just stay still, I will be quick"

The ability to talk was taken out of chifuyu, he just nodded in a dazed state , maybe because he was tired and couldn't think straight but he felt like he could stay here all day, under your gaze seeing how much you tried to look like you don't care and you hate him , but your expressions betrayed you as your eyes softened everytime chifuyu would groan in pain or jump slightly from the stinging feeling of the cotton pad brushing softly against the ugly bruise on his cheek .

Seeing how you stood just close enough to see the details of your face , the way your eyes sparkled in concentration, the way the orange sky of the sunset kissed your skin as you looked at him. He could look at you forever if he could.

And of course I didn't miss the way chifuyu looked at me , the way he blushed at the slightest touch on his skin , the way he avoided eye contact, i couldn't help but feel warm inside. It felt peaceful for once .

Once I finished treating his wounds I moved a few steps back, seeing his pretty face all covered in plasters and patches made me feel some kind of rage inside of me , not knowing exactly who I was mad at but it felt right to feel like that when you see the one the universe chose for you in this state .

I sighed and sat beside him on the bench massaging my temples as I felt a headache coming.

" If I knew I was going to meet my soulmate today I would have at least tried to look cooler and fight back "

Chifuyu mumbled loud enough making me giggle slightly as I looked at him noticing his embarrassed red cheeks.

We stayed in silence watching the last stream of light go down before exchanging places with the moon , neither of us wanted to move nor talk , just stay close like this in silence.

" i think I will be taking my leave"

I stood up only to halt when chifuyu's hand wrapped around my wrist gently making me stay still in my place , his eyes saying million words a second and yet nothing seemed to get out .

" you don't have to"

We both stared at each other , the universe made us for each other but the pathes and choices we took in life making a repulsive reaction whenever we thought of staying . It feels ridiculous to be in a situation I always laughed about, to be torn between two choices you want to chose both of them .

" we can work this together slowly... Just the two of us "

It felt like a magic spell putting me in haze , I think I know which choice I am going with this time .

I took out a small piece of paper writing something on it and placing it in chifuyu's hand , before starting to walk away.

" wait ! "

Chifuyu sighed in defeat seeing you walk away , noticing the paper in his hand he unfolded it and couldn't help but smile widely and feel his ears getting warmer reading your note .

' Here is my number.... Call me when you need to get your wounds cleaned '

Chifuyu chuckled and shook his head in amusement thinking to himself.

' I think I will need my wounds cleaned up every hour '

[melrosing]

What are yours “NO” in jb fanfics? Like u see it in the text in the story plot and immediately understand it’s not for you

I actually have too many and some of these aren’t even the writers’ fault they’re just me and my dumb tastes so no one should listen to me really but

AUs where Jaime hasn’t really done anything wrong/they don’t have that enemies to lovers shit going on. for me that stuff’s crucial to the foundations of jb

also AUs where Jaime and Cersei aren’t twins lol like I do make rare exceptions on this but most of the time I prefer fic that just fucking goes for it w the JC relationship

kid fics where they have like a gazillion children. also family comedy fics generally

show fics

and as a combination of the above, fics where jb are like honorary parents for the stark children like my god. are we forgetting Jaime has literally tried to kill three of them

i don’t really like office/corporate aus. for me it just feels the wrong setting for JB but again personal taste

how the fics manage Cersei as a whole is kind of important for me like if it’s a TWOW onwards fic and they avoid mentioning her entirely it feels a really conspicuous absence to me. I also don’t like fics that just feature her as a dragon to be slayed before jb can get on w their happily ever after. basically I’m interested in fics that engage w the twins’ relationship as part of JB’s story and do so without simplifying Cers herself BUT respect that not everyone wants to bother w that

soulmate AUs

also magical realism etc idk why I just can’t get into it. this is the same for literature generally I groan every time it comes up

high school AUs I can’t get invested in teen romances I couldn’t even get invested in these when I WAS a teen

Jaime’s either A) too snarky or B) too soft. like I think this is at least partly a ‘just me’ thing bc there’s nothing wrong w exaggerating certain characteristics in a fic if that’s working for the writer but I prefer Jaimes to have a bit of bite and also not be dropping a quip literally every other line. like ok yes there are some scenes where he does do that in canon lol but I find it draining when he’s literally incapable of sincerity

and this is really really just me but I can’t stand Declarations of Love Monologues that go on too long or read too rehearsed or when characters talk in language that’s just a bit too flowery and metaphorical. I way prefer sparing dialogue where most things go unsaid - especially w JB who aren’t the kind of characters to over explain themselves

fics where Brienne is a bit of an ‘everywoman’ like I think Brienne is a really interesting character by herself but sometimes ends up getting way less characterisation than Jaime does in fic

also I think a symptom of this is characterisations of Brienne where she’s like. at the club having copious one night stands bc she’s just being adapted as a Modern Woman

and Jaime getting adapted similarly as some kind of playboy type lmao

Quiet Isle fics where Jaime marries Brienne whilst she’s unconscious….. nah

oh yeah and fics where JB live London or Paris or whatever it’s like there’s a whole canon universe to fuck around with here why are they in NEW YORK

and probably lots more but really no one should listen to me bc i can’t even please myself. be free

[hatsunevitu]

SO imagine a soulmate au where people get a mark on their wrist that somehow implies who their soulmate is (basic). the mark usually appears somewhere about the age of 16-18.

not all people have soulmates, it’s a rather rare occasion (like one person out of 700 people), but if there have been people with soulmates in the family before, it increases the chances of having a soulmate-destined baby.

and now. STENNY.

kenny’s parents are soulmates (which is an INCREDIBLY rare situation because most of the time only one or nobody in a couple has a mark) so it was pretty natural to expect him having a mark.

other guys in the friends’ group didn’t worry about it much because they didn’t have any soulmates in their families, so they thought the chances of getting a soulmate mark were too low.

until one day stan wakes up and sees a death mark on his wrist. like. the grim reaper mark.

and he (naturally) gets scared as fuck. he tries to show this mark to anyone to reassure him that it’s ok but everyone seems pretty scared of it just as much as he is.

after, like, one week wendy breaks up with him saying that she’s afraid it’s some sort of a curse and she doesn’t really want to risk her life for a death-marked boy

and stan (once again naturally) gets depressed.

and uh. kenny is the only one who understands the meaning of the mark. but he can’t really tell the truth to stan because he simply wouldn’t believe if one of his best friends just casually told him “ah yes we’re soulmates and the reason why your mark is so weird is because i die at least once a week. wanna go on a date now?”

and while stan is out there hating his unknown soulmate, kenny has to listen to him complaining about his terrible luck and just. do nothing.

so kenny is just… waiting for his mark to appear so he can have a real proof of their soulmateship.

and now imagine the drama.

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Fate Of A Fae - Part 3

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Theme: Soulmates / Monster/Fantasy AU

You know on sight. Friends also know when they meet you if you're a match for one of their friends.

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a meddling, pain in the ass Sprite, who you wrongly thought would leave you alone once you introduced her to your best friend, Darcy. News flash, she doesn’t and she won’t. Not when she thinks you’re a perfect match for two of her best friends. Could she be right? Maybe. Just don’t tell her that.

“Never tell Natasha Romanoff she was right” - Clint Barton

Chapter Summary: This Zoom call could have been an email and the reader is starting to teeter.

If this Zoom call went on any longer you were going to take the pen you’d been twiddling in your fingers for the last half hour and gauge it into one of your eyes.

Dramatic but a Zoom call that could have been an email or voice-note was not what you wanted or needed this morning.

You continued to look out of the window again. The drizzle of the rain and wind a reflection of your mood. Probably too windy for dragons too.

Your laptop pinged with a WhatsApp message and you immediately regretted adding it to your desktop. There was a reason your phone was off. Luckily the others had seemed to have taken the hint. Your work acquaintances not so much.

Tyler At least act interested

Did you mute yourself so we couldn’t hear you sighing, because we can still see your eyes rolling you know!!!

Shit she’s asking you a question!!!!

You tried to style out you jumping up in your seat and your eyes going wide as you scrambled to take yourself off mute.

“Sorry you broke up at the start?” you lied.

Amanda huffed, she knew you weren’t paying attention but let it slide. You were one of the best freelance editors she had. Your deadlines were always met, you were meticulous in your work and you could hold your own with the writers, even with some of the more arsehole creatures. The fact you weren’t paying attention was out of character. Glancing at the screen she knew the other two editors were on friendly terms with you and Tyler’s concerned face along with Marshall’s frown pushed her to break her usual ‘no casual chat’ protocol.

“Y/N? Is everything ok?”

You felt a lump form in your throat. Was it that obvious that something was wrong? That someone that barely knew you would ask if you were ok?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you alright? You don’t seem like your usually bright, sarcastic self.” She said lightly trying to make light of the situation, when in all honesty you looked like shit, and this book was awful. You’d usually have given opening notes on how bad it was but you’d barely said hello.

“I’m fine” you replied too quickly for any of their liking.

“Are you sure kid? You don’t look good.” Marshall replied.

Tyler put his head in his hands. Fuck you were 100% going to lose it now. Marshall might have been 10 years older than you but him calling you kid was something you hated, him pointing out the obvious of you looking like death warmed up was sure to make you snark back.

“I’m fine. What was the question?”

Tyler couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open in shock. Where was the snarky reply?

Amanda repeated the question a frown across her forehead.

“We were going over plot issues?”

“One sec I have a list” you’d replied, reading them out like a shopping list, no usual sarcastic notes to go with them. As you rounded up the end of your notes the funny anecdotes were back but the glint in your eye that usually came with them wasn’t.

“It’s basically like he’s watched a bunch of Walking Dead, 28 Days Later, a couple of low budget movies and pushed them together. How the virus started has changed three times and we’re a third in.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s pause on this, put in your invoices so far and make a start on the next project.”

The next thirty minutes was spending prepping for the next project. This time a military and spy type drama, which was almost entirely human based.

“So it’s a fantasy drama then?” Tyler had quipped.

“Just make a start please.” Amanda replied pleadingly.

“Y/N? You OK to lead this one?” Marshall asked. You were looking out the window again.

“Y/N?” Amanda asked.

“Sorry what?”

“Are you good to lead? And actually what’s so interesting on that side of the room?” Amanda asked.

“The window.” Tyler replied for you.

“What?”

“I’ve been to her apartment, it’s the window.”

“What? I’m not doing anything?!” you interrupted.

“I just asked if you were good to lead?” Marshall asked softly again.

Clearly you weren’t. Leading meant checking everyone’s work, being thorough and you couldn’t even pay attention on a zoom call.

“Actually no.”

There was a flurry of gasps and widening eyes.

“Y/n?”

“I don’t have any military background, and I’m not entirely human am I so, I don’t think I should lead this one. I should be last edit.”

Your laptop pinged again.

Tyler What the fuck is going on?

You never take third!! You’re way too qualified for that.

Y/N what is going on?

You ignored it and looked back at the Zoom call. You were met with concerned faces. Amanda broke first.

“OK, why don’t we sleep on this and regroup tomorrow morning? But put in your invoices for the zombie trash.”

You nodded, trying to hold yourself together and left the call. You pushed down your emotions and pure exhaustion and decided going back to bed with a cup of tea and some chocolate was the answer. Yeah that was it, you were a bit hormonal and that was the problem. It had nothing to do with meeting one of your soulmates, your complete lack of self worth and the fact you were damaged, along with your ears now felt like they were on fire.

Yet none of that had stopped you looking out the window hoping to see Bucky again. It’s too wet and windy for dragons anyway.

As you pulled a mug from the drainer, your favourite mug no less, you caught it on the stack of plates, sending them towards the floor. Trying to catch them you caught the mug on the worktop and broke it in half.

It went downhill from there when you threw what was left of it on to the floor in your temper. This was quickly followed by you swiping all the other dishes off the drainer as a scream of frustration ripped from your throat. You burst into tears and slipped down on the floor and sobbed.

Your laptop pinged repeatedly. Messages and missed calls from your work colleagues.

Then Darcy.

Darcy Boo Can you pick up please? Tyler called. He said you were out of it on the work call. Are you ok?

Please? I’m worried.

Bucky Doll, is everything ok?

Precious, I’m going to need you to answer me.

I’m coming over there if you don’t reply.

Look, I know we aren’t bonded yet but I know something is off.

You have 5 minutes to reply or I’m coming over.

Answer me.

On the other side of the room, sitting on the floor among broken plates and mugs, your sobs slowed as you drifted off to sleep.

[entomolog-t]

I want to read an absolutely ridiculous Gt soulmates!au.

Like, picture this.

You're going about your day, and bump into someone on the street. You turn to say something but they make some snotty comment and you get into a bit of a confrontation with them. Nothing serious but enough that it leaves you in a foul mood.

What a cold personality. Who raised someone who could be that rude to a stranger? Maybe you fantasize a little about them tripping into a puddle. You definitely replay that argument over in your head a few times, wishing you could replay that moment and say that banger of a comeback you thought of just a smidge too late.

As the day passes, this mood lingers. Isn't it funny how one bad interaction can just ruin a perfectly good d-

You hear a yelp.

You turn to face the direction, and it's like the world falls out from underneath your feet. You almost missed them initially, but you caught the movement at the very periphery of your vision. That nasty person from earlier stands right at your feet, tiny ... and absolutely terrified.

No.

No. No. No. No.

Not them.

Why them??

It wasn't supposed to go like this! You'd spent so long daydreaming of the day you'd meet your soulmate. It was supposed to be cute and fun. Maybe a little awkward, but this???

You feel your stomach in knots as you look at them. A thought that a piece of your soul that small was with them right now was chilling. Maybe it was a mistake? Could you accidentally drop a bit of your soul?

You sigh. As much as you want to doubt it, you know there's no doubting... something to do with compatible frequencies that create an attraction? You never paid much attention during that class in high-school...

You bend down to get a better look at them. They aren't bad looking... quite the opposite... and at this size? They're pretty cute. You take a deep breath. Everybody had bad days, right? They're probably-

"This has got to be a mistake."

Nope. That's it. They suck.

------

OK OK OK LIKE???

When you meet your soulmate this sort of metaphysical reaction occurs where the souls have complimentary frequencies and this somehow acts as a sort of magnetic reaction, pulling a small bit of someone's soul away from their whole. That small bit of the soul then physically manifests as them.

BASICALLY, soulmate au where your soulmate finds a tiny version of you, and vice versa.

You don't share a consciousness with your shed bit of soul, maybe some kind of shared dreams or something, so you have no idea what some part of you is dealing with.

AHH I love it. It's stupid and silly and adorable.

Angst potential?? Fluff potential?? CONSTANT SIZE SWAP DYNAMICS???

I beg of thee

Please use this silly au.

SoulSwap au? SoulShard? I dunno.

If anyone has any cutesy names for this, please share

[henswilsons]

Hey! Can i ask you for buddie fic recs with many chapters or like one shots but very long ones? You are so great at recs 😍

oh thank u so so much!!! im so glad my frantic fic reading pays off in some way haha

ok here are some faves (most of these are 40k/50k+ !)

come love, by @colonoscopys - oh my WORD this fic !! where do i begin with this fic !!!!! basically buck is like a rich ceo and eddie is a bodyguard assigned to him and UGH its sooooo good. an absolute enemies to lovers SERVE, cannot recommend enough

stranger sunlight, still by @mmtions - i mean yall know how i feel about social media aus. buck has a secret thirst trap insta and eddie accidentally ends up kinda catfishing him, oh its SO good i devoured this in 1 sitting and its so so good

let's hear it for the boy by @hattalove - oh this fic !!!! kris has several gorgeous longer fics (tell me about despair BELOVED) but this one is my personal favourite, its so beautiful and i felt so tender and squishy after reading it. buddie adopting reluctant grouchy 20yo my BEST FRIEND !!

pretty much any fic by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels aka the queen of the multichapter buddie au. i cant even pick a favourite because i adore so so many of them but i did recently reread don't play games (come my way) which is her the hating game au and its SO good. also omg her reincarnation soulmates cowboy au too. mads im obsessed with you

stupid people by @gayhoediaz - ugh SAURRR good oml. eddie explores his newly discovered queerness by hiring a sex worker aka buck and UGH its so good if u love pining and slow burn and angst this is The Fic for u

never felt this way before (yes i swear) by @rewritetheending - dirty dancing au!!!!!!! i admittedly have never watched dirty dancing but i consumed this fic like a rabid animal, its so so good. also the idea of eddie sexy swing dancing literally lives rent free like the thought of it makes me kinda white out

hurt locker by @bvckandeddie - this is sort of like canon au adjacent if that makes any sense. basically classic eddie enlists after shannon falls pregnant but this time he and buck are already friends and buck joins with him. i cannot express how sweet this fic is, the slow burn is MAGNIFICENT and ugh. the best friends to lovers goes SO hard

keep me as your finish line by @thatbuddie - gym buddy (heh) au !!!!!! so so good, SO much fun, buck is so funny in this and its so sweet, cannot recommend even nearly enough

even when the night changes by @fallingthorns - yeah. this fic 🫶 i don't know how to describe this fic other than it's canon compliant and buck and eddie adjust to adult life together and its soooooooo soft it like makes me Ache, you know those fics?? i would get this tattooed on me if i could. so good

anyway that is so many sdafhhdsfhd and i have like 1000 more so plz let me know if u want me to make a p2 to this list because i could keep going

[thetravelingtyper]

Ok someone hear me out. On YouTube there's two versions of Cleopatra by The Lumineers.

There's the original which is a version about a woman rejecting basically the love of her life and having to see maybe his kids later on.

And a version where the love is still rejected but the man can fight for her affection or leave, and the singer moves on. The Demo acoustic version. Overall this one is a lot more peaceful I think

What about readers in love with Simon and not necessarily proposing they make their intention known to marry him. But he can't stand it and runs due to everything he's been through.

Bonus if its a soulmate au cause damn:

Here are the demo (my preferred) lyrics:

I was Cleopatra

I was young and an actress

and you knelt by my mattress

and asked for my hand

And I was sad you asked it

as I lay in a black dress

with my father in a casket

I had no plans

And I left the footprints

The mud stained on the carpet

and it hardened like my heart did

when you left town

But I must admit it

that I would marry you in an instant

Damn your wife, I′d be your mistress

just to have you around

But I was late for this

Late for that

Late for the love of my life

When I die alone

When I die alone

When I die I'll be on time

And the Church discouraged

any lust that burned within me

Yes my flesh it was my currency

but I held out

When a man′s rejected

well he can fight for your affections

or he can act like he never met you

and leave low to the ground

But I was late for this

Late for that

Late for the love of my life

And when I die alone

When I die alone

When I die I'll be on time

So I drive a taxi

and the traffic distracts me

from the strangers in my backseat

They remind me of you

But it's all a daydream

when it′s you who′s behind me

but you never recognize me

praise be

And the only gifts from my Lord

were a birth and a divorce

but I've read this script

and the costume fits

so I play my part

And there are nights I wake up

to the sound of a door shut

and I search on the floor but

I find no tracks

And the nurse in white shoes

leads me back to my guestroom

it′s a bed and a bathroom

and a place to relax

but I was late for this

late for that

late for the love of my life

When I die alone

When I die alone

When I die I'll be on time

[rems-writing]

Is Mingi the God of Death?

》 Pairing: mortal!Mingi x former Moon Knight!reader

》 AU: Marvel au

》 Wordcount: 3,198 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The happiest of birthdays to my one and only soulmate. Song Mingi 🥰🥰🥰 ilysm. Thank you for entering my life as my ult. You have changed me for the better 🩷🤍🖤

Lately, Mingi has been having weird nightmares. It ranged from strange ceremonies that involved welcome people into a golden field filled with thin plants to people bowing down before him as they offer things like food, wine

Sacrifices 

Sometimes, the so-called sacrificial offerings would be struggling to break free from these followers. Other times, the sacrificial offerings would cut out their own hearts and place it on a scale. Mingi would find himself judging those people and either send them to that strange field or the sand dunes, where people turn into sand statues and remain that way for eternity. 

The nightmares progressively got worse as months passed. It was bad enough that Mingi saw people cut out their own hearts and seemingly plead to him for mercy. It got worse from there. 

His previous nightmare involved him embalming someone and wrapping them up like a mummy before encasing them in a coffin. He almost hurled at the sight of the different organs that were bloodied and placed in cracked and faded urns. He didn’t know how it escalated into that since his nightmare started off as him taking care of a person like he was a nurse. He found himself speaking gently to this person as he took care of their wounds.

It was ironic since the person was actually dead.

He didn’t know how to explain all of this to a therapist he was seeing. He never sought out a therapist before, but due to the increasing number of nightmares he had, he was left with no choice but to talk with a professional about it. What made things worse was that he felt guilty for seeing someone to talk about this with rather than his significant other. 

He didn’t want to burden his beloved after seeing you struggle with trying to reign in Sekhmet. 

He knew how much you despised being the avatar for Khonshu, the Egyptian god of justice and the moon. He wanted to make sure that you live a carefree life without having to worry about the old bird popping up out of nowhere.

Which is why he kept this to himself. 

He knew it was wrong to keep secrets, especially since he might get his ass beat by your twin brother. Marc was someone he didn’t want to mess with, especially with his dangerous alter. 

Jake Lockley

In the few times Mingi encountered Jake, he was almost scared away by him. Due to his love for you and his support from both Steven and Marc, he was able to persevere through Jake’s ‘protective’ antics and get him on the young man’s side. 

It also took some convincing from you as well since Mingi would often see (and try not to snicker at) you hit Jake with a slipper. 

My love <3: Hey! Marc is currently over rn and he demands coffee. 

Mingi was currently wrapping up his latest session with his therapist. As he shook his therapist’s hand, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him from afar. Deciding to brush it off for now, he let go and bid his therapist goodbye before leaving to go home. After a harrowing day at work, he just wanted to snuggle up against you and listen to you ramble about normal life. Speaking of which, you messaged him about something. 

Mingles: lol are you sure it’s Marc and not Steven or Jake?

My love: Steven only drinks tea while Jake prefers ‘the blood of his enemies’ or whatever tf he meant

Mingles: so basically… a cup of milk coffee

My love <3: lol pretty much :P

Mingles: LMAO XD

Mingles: ok bet. I’ll stop by the cafe near our flat and I can get Marc his coffee. Do you want anything?

My love <3: Just your love and affection

My love <3: and maybe an apple fritter. I’m obsessed with those lately. Blame Layla lol

Mingles: Now see if I do that, Marc might beat my ass lol

My love <3: I’ll protect you. I have the power of the slipper! XD

Mingles: You’re so fucking cute. Ok I’ll get those rn. Ily

My love <3: ilyt

Mingi looked up and flinched when he saw the barista looking lifeless. She had white blurred eyes, sunken cheekbones, a jaw that was hanging on for dear life, and a body that was basically a skeleton if you didn’t see the paper-thin skin attached to the bones. He blinked and rubbed his eyes before looking at the barista once again. He was relieved when he saw a healthy-looking woman in lieu of the dead version of herself patiently waiting for him to pay. 

Mingi sighed dreamily as he put away his phone and walked to the cafe. There was no line and there weren’t a lot of people inside, so he was able to get the items quickly. As he took out his wallet, he casually asked how much he owed. He was not prepared for the answer given to him.

“I will offer you my soul.”

“Sorry. I must’ve been distracted. Been thinking about home and work and stuff.” Mingi sheepishly explained, to which the woman waved him off politely. 

“No worries. It’s totally fine. Anyways, $10 is your total.” 

Mingi nodded and pulled out a $20 bill. “You can keep the change. Have a good day.” He said quickly and politely before he gathered his things and walked out of the cafe. With your apple fritter and Marc’s coffee in tow, he walked briskly back to his flat, barely missing the way that some citizens looked with the same lifeless look in their eyes. As he patiently waited for the crosswalk sign to change, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and almost dropped the items in his hand when he saw a dead man looking at him. His head was bent at an unnatural angle, and he spoke in a hollow voice. 

“You left us. You left your true home to be amongst the humans. You are a selfish god. You want to be human so bad? Then you will die like a human!” 

Mingi jumped out of the way as the dead man launched himself at the taller man, only to crumble into pieces when he crashed to the floor. Panic consumed Mingi and he ran for his life when the crosswalk sign changed. He dared to look back. 

He wished he hadn’t. 

A wave of mummified humans came barreling at him with lightning speed, all speaking in an ancient tongue that he somehow understood. The panic turned into fear when he felt someone’s bony fingers brush up against his ankle in an attempt to trip him and drag him away. Temporary relief washed over him when he saw a familiar building a few feet away from him. Picking up speed, he sprinted towards the entrance of the building’s lobby and inserted himself into the closest vacant elevator. He pressed the ‘close doors’ button rapidly as his peripheral vision caught onto the mummies scrambling over one another to get into the elevator. He breathed out a heavy sigh of relief as the doors closed in time and it started going up to his floor. Mingi slid down the wall and exhaled loudly as he patiently yet anxiously waited until it stopped. 

“Mingi.”

An eerie whisper of his name sounded in the air and Mingi flinched at the sound. He slowly got up and looked around to see who called him. As far as he knew, he was the only one in the elevator. 

“Mingi.”

The whisper grew louder and Mingi was able to detect a voice. It sounded soft and gentle, yet he knew better than to trust that easily. The lights in the elevator flickered and he looked around anxiously. It didn’t help that there were mirrors surrounding him as well. 

“Over here.”

Mingi looked to his left and his face paled. He was somehow expecting a dead version of himself to be looking at him through his reflection. 

He was not expecting an entirely different man to look back at him. 

As Mingi walked closer to the mirror, he set his things down and looked at his reflection. Whenever he raised his hand, the man would as well. Whenever he bent his head, the man would as well. It went on for a while until Mingi looked up and almost let out a scream. 

The man’s head had an outline of a jackal surrounding him. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” Mingi screamed. 

The man chuckled quietly as he stepped out of the mirror and stood before him. He was dressed similarly to Mingi, but it looked like he went through hell and back. His white dress shirt was torn at the bottom so his abs and slim waist were on display. His black dress pants had chains dangling from the belt loops, his black dress shoes were caked in sand and blood, and his crooked fingers were covered by black fingerless gloves that reached to his elbows, leaving his forearms to be covered as well. His black tie hung loose around his neck and his silver hair was more of a dark and ashen gray. His hair covered his eyes slightly, yet Mingi was able to see through them. The man reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly as he stared him down. 

“I am you.” 

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

“Mingi, wake the fuck up!” 

Mingi heard your worried voice loud and clear, and he sat up straight on the couch, looking around rapidly before settling his eyes on you. Standing beside you were Layla and Marc. Layla looked worried as well while Marc was stoic and had his arms crossed. 

But he too was worried. 

“W-What happened?” Mingi asked hoarsely. His voice was lost due to the scream he let out earlier after that encounter with that strange man. 

“We got a call from the landlord saying that you passed out as you tried to exit the elevator once you reached our floor. I practically sprinted out of our flat as soon as she said that. Mingi, something is going on with you! You’ve been looking paler every day and you’re always so fidgety. Not to mention that you also wake up in a cold sweat and breathe heavily. Even in the darkness of our room, I can see you clutch your chest. Please… talk to me. Talk to us!”

Mingi couldn’t take it anymore. He broke down crying in your arms and told you everything. From the nightmares to the therapy sessions, he vented on and on. While you were consoling him, Marc and Layla shared a knowing look. Yet they stayed quiet as they observed you cradle his face in your hands and kiss his forehead gently. 

“It’s ok, Mingi. It’ll be ok. We will do our best to help.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be involved with the gods again. If that even is the case.”

“You’ve helped me cope with adapting to our new lifestyle. And for that, I thank you every day for coming into my life. Let me repay you for all you’ve done.” 

Mingi nodded shyly and you smiled before looking up at Layla and Marc. 

A few hours later, you and Layla were discussing amongst yourselves the predicament that Mingi was in while he was in your room with Steven, who fronted after hearing about the nightmares. 

“So you’ve had nightmares that involved dead people, mummification, and the Field of Reeds. Am I correct, lad?”

“Yeah pretty much. And as I said to Y/N, it felt like my nightmares were coming to life. I saw a barista looking lifeless and say that they’ll offer me their soul while another random man called me a selfish god and tried to attack me. Lastly, a huge group of mummified people came running at me.”

“Right… but then what about the encounter you had with that man? He wasn’t dead right?”

“No. He looked more human. He wore a tattered version of the clothes I’m wearing right now yet I know for a fact that he was an entirely different person than me.” 

“Here. Let me sketch him as you describe him.” 

Mingi then proceeded to describe what the man in the mirror looked like to the best of his ability. He probably messed up on a few details since he was gripped with fear as he saw him. Steven finally finished up his sketch and a worried look was on his face as he looked at it some more before he turned the sketch pad around. 

“Is this who you saw?” 

Mingi’s face paled once more as he saw the sketch. 

“Yeah… that’s him.” 

“Oh bollocks. Lad, I think you might have encountered the Egyptian god of the dead himself.”

“Osiris?”

“No… Anubis.”

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

Mingi found himself on a plane to Cairo. He was nervous as hell and couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. You placed a hand on his knee and looked at him with reassurance. “It’ll be ok, Mingi. We’ll see what he wants, and he’ll leave you alone after that. He’ll listen to me.” 

Mingi nodded rapidly as he listened to your confident words. When they landed, they quickly got off the plane, grabbed their bags, and booked it to the hotel they were staying at. Once they were checked in and settled down, they immediately headed towards the pyramids. 

You and Marc were once again back inside the temple of the Ennead. They hadn’t been back here since they trapped Ammit inside Arthur Harrow’s body. As much as you wanted to escape so badly, you knew that if you didn't do this, Mingi’s nightmares would never end. 

“So I just… lay here?” Mingi asked as he pointed to a stone table. You nodded and helped him lay down. Due to his height and big body chock full of muscle, it was a struggle at first. Finally, he was able to lay down properly. His long legs dangled off the table and he cringed when he felt a strange liquid be painted on his forehead. 

“This is just us preparing you for the ceremony. We need to put the symbol of Anubis on you so we can properly communicate with him. Don’t sweat it.” Marc explained and Mingi nodded. Once the preparations were complete, the chants started. 

The more the three of them recited the incantations, the more Mingi felt physically uncomfortable. He was sweating a lot, he clutched his stomach, and he let out painful screams. The screams soon turned into growls and his back achingly arched off the table as black and gold mist escaped his mouth. The mist soon took shape into an all too familiar figure. The figure was hunched over and stood up slowly as the mist dissipated. His eyes glowed brightly before settling back to brown. 

Mingi scrambled off the table as he stood behind Y/N while the man, clad in a black tank top and blue jeans, brushed off his shoulders and looked around. His wavy black hair dangled in front of his eyes.

“Ah. It seems I’m back in this dreadful place.”

His voice, albeit soft, held power. He settled his eyes on Marc and Layla before smiling gently at them. “It’s so good to see you two. How has life been for you guys?”

“It’s been… alright.”

The man nodded before turning to you. His eyes were filled with love and sadness as he walked towards you. He reached out and gently held your face in his hand. Mingi wanted to step in and tell him to fuck off, but for some reason, he knew this needed to happen so he just stood there and watched. 

“My love… I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Seonghwa.” 

‘So that’s Anubis’s human name.’ Mingi thought to himself as he observed the exchange between you and Seonghwa. 

“I hope Mingi is making you happy. Otherwise, my departure from the Duat would have been in vain.” 

“Wait… you left? Why?”

A quiet sigh escaped Seonghwa’s plush lips as he explained everything to you, Marc, Layla, and Mingi. 

“I am a selfish god. I couldn’t bear to be without you. So I left behind everything I once was and entered the mortal realm in a new body. Hence, how Mingi came about.” 

It all made sense now. 

Mingi wasn’t having nightmares.

He was experiencing his past life. 

“Mingi, I am so sorry that you had to go through those visions. I never meant to make you and Y/N suffer. I didn’t realize the consequences of leaving the Duat until they came to fruition. Please forgive me.”

Mingi couldn’t help but feel bad for the past version of himself. All Seonghwa ever wanted was to be with you, no matter the conditions. Mingi gave a small grin to the ancient god and patted his shoulder. 

“It’s ok. I understand. I honestly would’ve done the same thing if I was in your position.”

Seonghwa smiled gratefully and brought the mortal into a hug. Your heart soared at the sight of your past lover and current lover embracing each other like family. As Seonghwa let Mingi go, they connected their foreheads together. Seonghwa placed a delicate hand over Mingi’s broad chest so he could feel the man’s heart under his palm. 

“I will try my best to make sure you guys will not suffer anymore. In return, I simply ask that you keep loving Y/N in the same way that you always have since the first day you two have met.”

“You can count on me, Anubis.”

Seonghwa nodded gratefully and turned to you before pulling into one last hug.

“Until we meet again, my love…”

Seonghwa let go of you and waved goodbye to Marc and Layla before he disappeared in the same black and gold mist. His ghostly silhouette floated around the temple before coming down upon Mingi, who groaned painfully as both of their presences combined. A light shone brightly around the young man momentarily before it dimmed. The three of you uncovered your eyes. Layla gasped, Marc had a half smile on his face, and you were practically drooling at Mingi’s new look. 

Instead of long silver hair, he had black hair swept back to reveal an undercut and his eyebrows were no longer bleached. He wore a black tank top, light blue jeans, and black combat boots. He had sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose and one of his arms revealed a tattoo of Seonghwa’s symbol. 

It was a significant mark of Mingi’s past life as Anubis. 

He smirked as he saw you shamelessly checking him out. He walked over to you and lifted you up in his arms before carrying you bridal style. 

“Come on, babe. The night’s still young. The four of us should go on a double date.”

You simply giggled like a schoolgirl as you admired the confidence Mingi had. You two walked out of the temple while Layla quietly laughed to herself and Marc sighed heavily. 

“Oy vey.” Jake said to himself in Marc’s head. 

[violettduchess]

Heya Violet! I'm going to request an ikevamp fic for the first time, so how about either of the Day 4 prompts for Leonardo? I'm excited to see what you come up with 👍

A/N: Hi @scorchieart 💜 Thank you for your request! This is for the Different Universe Same Love CCC hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

This combines scorchie's request with an anon request for Soulmates AU with Leonardo 💜

Leonardo x f reader

WC: 5254

"There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." -Vincent Van Gogh 

“I hate this,” you grumble as you check your phone for the hundredth time. Where the hell is this place? It feels like it's been hours of California coastline rolling past your window. Beautiful, yes. But also so inconvenient. You lean forward towards the front of the town car.

“Abel, how much longer?”

Your driver glances at you in the rear-view mirror, smiling good-naturedly. 

“Another 15 minutes, chérie.”

You flop back into the cushioned leather, sighing. If you had known this would be a part of it, you would not have taken the role. 

Maybe. 

Ok, fine. You probably would have taken it anyway. 

The story of a woman who breaks all tradition to become a famous 19th century painter? You can practically hear Theo’s words in your ear all over again: “You want to be stuck in rom-coms forever or do you want to be taken seriously? Make art that matters?” The Dutchman is a tough agent, too direct for most actors’ fragile egos to handle but that’s why you like him. He is always honest with you.

Outside the town car window, the ocean continues to roll by, a blur of slate-gray and white. Picking up your phone for the hundredth time, you type in the name of the artist you’re on your way to see. 

Just like every time you’ve done it before, all you get is his Instagram page which is entirely too sparse and full of only half-finished paintings, close ups of brushes, a few small, charcoal sketches. Nothing about the man himself. 

You swipe Instagram away and tap on Spotify, closing your eyes and allowing a podcast about the Golden Age of Hollywood to help pass the remaining time.

“Love the vibe,” you murmur as you step out of the Mercedes, pushing up your tortoise-shell sunglasses in order to better take in the picturesque brown and white wooden house. It really does seem like something out of a Kinkade painting. It's perched on the edge of a plateau, facing a slope of green hillside that disappears into a smattering of gray rock. The rocks give way to a stretch of dark brown sand which leads you right to the blue-gray beauty of the Pacific Ocean. It's here the warm vibes end though. This beach is nothing like the sandy beaches of Southern California. This is something wilder, something sharper. There is no manicured, processed beach feeling here. This is nature allowing you into her world, the crashing of the waves onto the shore not an invitation but a reminder. You’re here with her permission.

Abel comes around, carrying your luggage and pauses, taking in the house. “It’s lovely,” he murmurs. 

You shoot him a Look. “It’s miles from just about anything. I hope Vlad knows what he’s doing.”

Vlad is the director of the film you are going to star in. The one who said you needed to spend some time with a real-life artist in order to understand the lifestyle, the thought process, the way of viewing the world. And he knew just the person. A friend of a friend, an artist of some small renown, who made money on the side by working as a consultant for various productions. He had invited you to stay with him for a few days, to teach you basic painting and drawing techniques so it would look realistic on film, and to answer any questions you had. Vlad vouched for him, claiming he was a good man, one he would trust his star with. 

You turn to Abel. “Only leave if I give you the sign.”

He smiles indulgently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll be fine. But I will wait until I see it.”

Steeling yourself, you gather your bags and make your way down the short driveway and up the dark wooden steps. There’s no doorbell so you knock loudly.

You aren’t sure what you expected. A man named Leonardo made you think he would be older with flowing white locks and a long wizard-like beard. What you did not expect was the door to be opened by a golden-eyed Adonis with ombre hair and one of the friendliest, most open smiles you’ve ever seen. 

“Benvenuta, cara mia. Welcome.”

That voice. Your heart is doing tiny backflips inside your chest as a horde of butterflies excitedly flutter their wings inside your stomach. It takes you a moment before you figure out the way words work again.

“Thank you.”

Behind your back, you wiggle two fingers at Abel furiously. 

The driver covers his grin with the back of his hand, nodding once to Leonardo in greeting before sliding back into the vehicle. He watches through the car window as Leo takes your bags and you follow him inside, the white wooden door closing behind you.

“Good luck, chérie,” he chuckles softly. Somehow, he is certain you will be just fine.

You are utterly charmed. The main house is small, and the guest house just behind it even smaller, but they are both unique, beautiful in their own ways. Everything is simple, clean. Wide windows keep the ocean in view at all times. In every room there is something to look at. A miniature painting of sunset over the water on the living room table. An antique nautical map hanging on the wall of the dining room. An oversized forest green couch that looks like it's just waiting for you to snuggle into it.

Leonardo has just brought your bags to the guest house, a one room structure with a brass bed, rustic homemade dresser, a small desk and a tiny en-suite bathroom.

“I know you are probably used to more luxurious accommodations.”

“No, this is lovely. Really.” You glance down at your phone, considering whether to post a picture to your socials and hear him laugh softly at the expression on your face. The sound settles itself into your bones, warm and welcoming.

“Reception is a bit shoddy out here. You have the best chance when you go to the living room.”

Tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, you flash him a smile. “Thanks for the tip.”

He holds your gaze a moment and you feel like sand, being pulled towards an irresistible ocean. 

“You must be starving. Let’s eat before I show you my studio.”

With a pleasantly full stomach and a glass of red wine in hand, you step inside the studio and gasp. Gone are the clean lines, the simplistic beauty of the rest of the house. Here is a world of color and chaos, paint and pandemonium, art and anarchy. Canvases are everywhere, paint pots and brushes, charcoal and sketchbooks. And while it may look like mayhem, there is a truth about it that stirs something inside you. This is the man behind the easy-going smile. This is his heart and soul made tangible, made material. 

He notices the way you’re looking around, sees the look in your bright eyes and he knows that you see it, the love he has for his craft. You're not some Hollywood actress looking down her nose at a mess. You're one artist taking in another artist’s medium and appreciating it. His heart unexpectedly shifts, sliding closer to some unseen edge. 

“This is…incredible.” You walk slowly through the space, stopping in front of whatever catches your eye. A half-finished sketch of a whale breaching the surface of the water. An anatomically correct drawing of the underside of a starfish. A canvas of yellows and oranges and reds, a practice in blending.

“How come I’ve never seen you post a finished painting on your social media?” You stop when you come to a whole row of them, leaning casually against the back wall of his studio. Crouching down, you inspect a painting of a man from behind, his arms spread out wide towards a turbulent, white-capped ocean, daring it maybe. Or welcoming it.

He shrugs, running his hand through his hair, a tick you’ll come to recognize as something he does when he is uncomfortable.

“I sell a few here and there. Not enough to earn a living but that’s what jobs like this are for, yeah?”

You rise slowly back to full height, taking a sip of the rich wine.

“Have you ever showcased your work?”

He scoffs as he lifts a paint-stained rag from one corner of his supply table and toys with it before tossing it right back.

“To what end? I paint for me. That is enough.”

That sounds like someone who is too scared to try. But you keep the words locked in your mind, aware enough to know that might be reaching a bit too deeply into his psyche for comfort.

“So….when do we begin?”

He smiles slowly and it burns through your body, warming you more than the alcohol.

“Tomorrow. Sunrise.”

All those hours you could still be sleeping. Instead of being warm and snug in your very cozy guesthouse, you are shivering on a beach, sitting on a blanket next to Leonardo as he flips open the sketchbook in front of you. He’s in an oversized brown knit sweater and jeans, looking like a model for some outdoor clothing company whereas you, trying to pull your fitted sweater down over your exposed lower back, look like some Hollywood wanna-be who wasn’t prepared for the cold California morning.

He places several small gray pebbles in front of you on the blanket.

“Sketch these.”

You tilt your head. “They’re rocks.”

“There is challenge in even the simplest of forms. Please try.”

You’re skeptical as you yank down once more on your sweater, sitting cross-legged and staring down at the pebbles. It can’t be that hard. Picking up the pencil, you begin trying to capture their form. 

It proves to be much harder than it looks. 

Your brow furrows as you look from your sketch, which is doing a fantastic job of being horrible, to the smooth stones in front of you.

“You must relax,” he murmurs as he scoots closer. “You’re gripping that poor pencil like you wish to strangle it.” He reaches over, covering your hand with his. You’re immediately hit with the faint smell of tobacco. Does he smoke? And something else….something earthy and rich and entirely too appealing for this early in the morning. His fingers, graceful and strong, carefully manipulate yours, sliding over your skin and leaving small ripples of heat in their wake. He touches your wrist, over the place where your heart is beating so quickly, tilting it just so. 

He holds you there, moving your hand like a puppeteer might the wooden cross of marionette. You watch as the pebbles slowly come to life, flowing from the tip of your pencil.

“Let go,” his voice, gentle as the morning breeze, deep as the sea, whispers in your ear. “You must let go and allow the pencil to do its job.”

Slowly he removes his hand and the sudden lack of contact spurs a tiny whimper from your throat. Luckily, he mistakes it for dismay at his lack of coaching and chuckles.

“You continue on your own, cara mia.”

You’ve been called many things: The Girl Next Door, America’s Sweetheart but somehow, that nickname rolling so casually off his tongue suddenly means more than any of that. You’re smiling despite the cold, despite the wind, despite your stupid, impractical sweater.

Inhaling, you try again, the pencil less a tool in your hand as an extension of it. And while your pebbles don’t look amazing, they do look much closer to what you are trying to accomplish. 

“Well done,” he says, looking over your shoulder. “You're a quick learner.”

You smile at him, his words washing over you, warm as sunshine.

“Can I try something else? Maybe try the sand and the ocean?”

He nods, reaching for the hem of his sweater. The next thing you know he’s removed it and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaving you surrounded by soft wool that smells like Leonardo. Your heart stumbles.

“Si. Let’s try.”

My life has never been this disconnected from work and yet, so full, you think as you wrap the beige blanket tighter around your body, watching Leonardo paint. You’re sitting outside on the large porch, the breathtaking view of the sand dunes, the boulders, the sand and the endless sea stretched out before you like a slice of paradise.

You’ve been here almost a week and the world has changed. The bright lights of Hollywood seem so far away. Now you’re concerned with daylight and sunrises, the way light falls across an object or a person, how to capture its essence with charcoal and acrylics, watercolor and wax. You haven't even touched your phone other than to reassure Theo you are fine, doing well and learning a lot, soaking in the experience of being an artist so that you can find it again when the cameras are on you. You’ve abandoned your socials, only leaving a message saying something about the life of an actor and secret prep work that you can’t talk about. It’s technically not a lie.

You watch as Leonardo dips his brush into a red that looks far too bright and finds a way to make it exactly the right shade of sunset, adding an element to his painted sky that you didn’t even know was missing until he put it there. He’s relaxed, his body loose, movements like flowing water as he almost lovingly drags the brush along the canvas. He showed you how, a few mornings ago. You’ve been haunted ever since by the feel of his larger body behind you, the way he reached around, gently taking hold of your wrist, and showed you how to hold yourself, teaching your body the dance of a painter. He is patient, always answering any question of yours the best he can. And so intelligent. The other night you curled up on his overstuffed green couch to look through several of his notebooks, filled with sketches and half-finished designs for contraptions that looked more sci-fi than present day. One entire page was devoted entirely to drawing various animal wings. The next was an excruciatingly detailed drawing of his own hand.

He talks about art the way you talk about acting: a way to conduct emotion, to spark a connection between people. You feel like he understands when you explain how acting is a form of devotion to humanity, an expression of love. Most people roll their eyes when an actor begins talking about their craft. His smile tells you all you need to know about how well he truly does understand. 

He shakes you from your reverie when he joins you on the bench, wiping his hands on a towel and reaching for his glass of wine.

“And? What do you think?”

You tilt your head, pretending to study the easel with its beautiful interpretation of the actual sunset that is happening behind it. He has not replicated it exactly, but captured the symphony of colors, the dramatic brass of the oranges and romantic woodwinds of the pinks, the clouds with their warmly colored underbellies and of course, the ever present sea, gilded in gold.

���It’s beautiful, Leo.” 

“You like it, which means I’m pleased.” He takes another sip. “Consider it a gift, yeah?. It is, after all, our last weekend together.”

Those words carve themself into the moment, slicing away the peace you’ve been feeling. Dismay bleeds from your heart. You were going to have to face it, the fact that your time with him, magical as it has been, is coming to an end. But you had hoped, irrationally, that maybe if no one said it, you could just stay here, in this beautiful house with this beautiful man as long as you wanted.

Your face, the tool of your trade that you can usually control so well, betrays your thoughts.

“Cara mia.” He reaches out, his fingers curling inwards for a moment, hesitant. The man who never has a problem touching you when correcting your hand or positioning your arm now needs a moment of courage. Because this isn’t a teaching moment. Maybe none of them ever really were. He only knows that from the second he opened the front door and you were there, with your smile like sunshine and eyes bright with intelligence and excitement, he felt drawn to you like he's never been toward anyone before.

You turn your face into his touch, reaching up to cup your hand over his. You press a kiss into his palm. The lull of the waves is drowned out by the roaring of your heartbeat. And then he leans towards you, taking your face in his beautiful hands, and he kisses you. 

Your heart cracks open and oceans of desire and want and something else, something nameless underneath those wild waves of emotion flood you. He feels so good. This feels so right.

You kiss with the exhilaration of new lovers, wildly and without a care for anything else in the world. The sunset and her majestic colors be damned. There is nothing as beautiful as the wildfire of gold in his eyes, the melody of his breathing. You’re on his lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pressed as closely as you can be and it isn’t enough. He slides his hands under your blouse, pressing the palms of his hands to your bare back. It isn’t enough.

You manage to tear your mouth away from him long enough to get out one word: “Inside.”

He stands up and you wrap your legs around him, his strong arms supporting your weight as he carries you inside the wooden house on the plateau, impatiently stealing every kiss he can before laying you down on the oversized green couch, covering your body with his. He softly growls your name in a way that sends fire cascading through your veins.

The sky outside darkens as the last rays of sunset disappear. Her show is over. You both belong now to the night.

Heart, say good-bye because you are no longer mine. You lay on your side, facing the open window of Leonardo’s bedroom. The ocean breeze, cool with night’s kiss, waves the pale curtains and skims over your skin, raising goosebumps along your bare arm and shoulder. 

You close your eyes, reveling in the heavy feeling of your body, tempest-tossed and satisfied, peppered with the light marks of your lovemaking. You're a goner. You’ve fallen overboard, heading further and further down into the churning depths of your feelings for Leonardo. And you’re not sinking. Not at all. You’re kicking your legs and diving, excited to explore the deep and all its mysteries.

He stirs in his sleep and you roll back to face him, watching as he slowly surfaces from whatever dream he was lost in. His warm eyes, framed by such dark lashes, flutter open. When he sees you, laying on your side, facing him, he smiles slowly and reaches out a hand.

“Come here, cara mia.”

The thought of resisting doesn’t even cross your mind. You slide over into his arms, marveling at the feel of his body against yours, strong muscles, long legs. He presses a kiss to your temple, then nuzzles your neck affectionately.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You smile, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. Now may not be the right time to tell him everything you’re thinking. You don’t want to scare him away.

“No thoughts. Just....” You slide your hand over his chest, over the lean muscles of his abdomen, and then lower. His golden eyes flare bright with immediate hunger. His lips part as he exhales.

With a groan he pulls you to him and you close your eyes, letting his greedy mouth and wandering hands take you away.

This is only the beginning after all. You have plenty of time to figure out what's next. 

A Year Later

“Now that’s just one review! The rest are all like it!”

You listen to Theo’s exuberant voice as he names all the various publications that are writing rave reviews about the film. Funny, everything you thought you ever wanted is coming true. You made a movie that is earning positive reviews across the board, with your performance hailed as a stand out, a tour de force unlike anything you’ve ever done. There’s already talk about awards and other dramatic parts and are you interested in endorsements?

And yet, you’re miserable.

Leaning back into the plush seat of the town car, you stop Theo’s voice message and tap on Instagram and, like a lemming drawn to a cliff, go to his page.

All comments are turned off and there is only one picture posted: a short message thanking people for their interest but he is on hiatus.

The post is six months old.

How did it all go so wrong? You had been so happy.

Your eyes fall closed and memories play themselves out in front of you, like a flickering movie reel from yesteryear.

You and Leonardo on his porch, cuddled together under a blanket as you watch the sunrise. He can’t stop touching you and you him.

Driving with him back to Southern California, his eyes widening when you pull into the driveway of your home, modest by Hollywood standards, a palace compared to his small wooden dwelling.

Your pool. Cold water. Hot mouths. His hand pressed against your lips, stifling your sounds even as he continues moving.

The paparazzi finding you after a few days of blissful privacy, snapping a shot of you two leaving Starbucks, his hand casually resting on your hip, thumb stroking the stripe of bare skin between your jeans and the hem of your shirt.

Your names splashed across gossip sites and social media. He gains thousands of followers in a matter of hours, people hoping he’ll post an image of the two of you together. An older picture of him from several years ago at an art gallery opening in SoHo is all they have and it is everywhere. And it is not enough. They want more.

They follow you home. They follow you to work. They follow you when you go out to eat. They follow you to appointments, to meetings, across town and back. They yell your name, they ask about him. They are relentless.

And then they start to follow him. To your home. To the restaurant where you’re meeting. To his home. They wait by the wooden house on the plateau, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and him. They yell your name, they ask about rumors, they demand to know when the wedding is.

They swarm you both like locusts blocking out the sun, sucking up all your air.

And then his paintings begin to sell. Never has there been such a demand. He can’t keep up. And he isn’t happy.

Because he says he did nothing to deserve it aside from being with you. No one cared before. He has not earned this success. It’s the side-effect of loving you. Side-effect, you repeat one night, staring at him across your marble kitchen island, that makes it sound like loving me is some kind of disease.

He cures himself by leaving. You wake up one morning and all his things are gone. He is a ghost who has vanished back into the nether of sea-spray and morning fog from whence he came.

All he leaves you with is a note, the paper torn from one of his notepads, in his messy, slanted writing: “I’m sorry.”

A note, and all the splinters of your broken heart.

And now you’re almost at your destination. The tiny bed-and-breakfast tucked away in a remote corner of the California coast. Your refuge from the rest of the world. The place you come to heal.

You’ve been here a few times since he left. The owners, Wolf and Jean, are like family. They took care of you before you became successful, when you were a starving artist looking for your big break, and have continued to do so even now, when you could easily stay at any five-star hotel across the globe but always come back here, to warmth and comfort.

The first time you came here after he left, they filled your room with macaroons, your favorite dessert. They must have heard the news from some entertainment program or maybe some celebrity news ticker. You could have killed the Starbucks barista who spoke to the press, saying how you suddenly were coming alone to pick up your coffee and how pale you were, your eyes red from crying.

Another time they subtly laid a newspaper on your bed. At first you weren’t sure why but then you saw the tiny article about Leonardo having a small but successful showing in Denmark, worlds away from the bright lights of Hollywood. Like a 1950’s schoolgirl, you had cut out the small black and white picture of him and folded it, hiding it in your wallet. Doing so felt both pathetic and comforting at the same time.

Another winding road, dipping between tree and rocky coast and then one final turn. The familiar blue and white building comes into sight and you can feel yourself breathing easier already.  The car slows to a stop and a moment later, Abel opens the door for you.

“We’re here, chérie.” His champagne-colored eyes have a twinkle to them which leaves you wondering if he knows something you don't.

Forever ago, this place used to scare you with its pointed roof and close proximity to the edge of a very steep cliff. But it’s become your home away from home and you’re soothed by the sight of it.

“I’ll just get my—” Your weekend bag is already on the ground next to you and the town car is halfway down the drive. You frown slightly before hoisting up your bag. Well, he was sure in a hurry.

You bound up the familiar steps, opening the friendly blue door and step into the foyer.

“Jean? Wolf?”

Odd, they would normally be here to meet you, food and drink in hand.

You glance around, taking out your phone to make sure that you had sent them the correct date and time when you spot something hanging on the wall. Your fingers go numb and your phone falls, landing with a harmless thud on the thick carpeting.

Hanging on the wall is a new painting. It’s a woman, sitting on a beach at sunrise, wrapped up in an oversized, cozy brown sweater. Her head is tipped back, eyes closed, a serene expression on her face. It’s soft and romantic. Not a brushstroke wasted nor a color excessive. 

The sea is a deep gray-blue. 

The sky is a garden of pinks and lavenders and orange. 

The woman is you.

You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

How....

“Cara mia.”

Like an apparition he is suddenly standing there, in the doorway. Not some memory or picture or dream, but Leonardo, flesh and blood, right there in the same room as you. The sight of him hits you like the full force of a typhoon, draining all the color from your face and sending you back a step.

As you recover from your shock, you notice now how nervous he is. His hands, normally so strong and steady, whether creating art or touching you, are shaking. He has dark circles under his golden eyes, shadows of what has been haunting him.

“Leonardo.” His name is twisted upon itself, hollow and aching when it passes your lips. 

“May I speak? I have something to say to you. Please."

You nod, your breath held prisoner in your lungs, your wounded heart limps in circles in your chest, aching at the sight of him.

He draws a deep breath.

“I was a fool. I pushed you away because I was afraid. Your world is so much bigger than mine and instead of joining you, proud to be by your side, learning how to navigate new waters, I ran.” He pushes a hand through his hair, an inhale needed to steady his nerves. “That was wrong. I hurt you. I’m so sorry, cara mia. So deeply sorry for how stupid I was. I…I regretted it immediately but it was too late...Dio, sono un idiota.” 

He shakes his head, defeated. The failure of words in the face of what he did is stark and he finds himself unable to go on. Nothing can begin to explain the festering regret he's lived with from the moment he walked out your door. He isn't good enough with words to explain how the minute he was heading away from you all he wanted to do was to turn back. How without you the world was drained of its vivacity, its color. He trapped himself in a gray existence of his own making and now his escape lies solely in your hands.

You breathe in and out, taking a moment before you respond.

"You did hurt me. Badly. But…." You take a second, searching for the right words. "I could have helped prepare you for what it means to be with someone like me. It was so much to ask of you to just be ok with your life suddenly being turned upside down. For that, I'm sorry."

Silence grows between you, thick as brambles and just as thorny.  Neither of you can meet the other's gaze. It hurts, every second that ticks by without a word. Neither of you knows what to say, neither wants to leave. It is Leonardo who finally clears his throat, a throat where so many words are bottlenecking in their fury to get out.

"I'll leave you in peace then." 

The words are clipped, his accent thick as emotion chokes him. The final, tenuous connection between you is close to crumbling. He's about to turn away when one word shoots straight from your heart like a rocket.

"Wait!!"

He freezes, his sunrise gaze locking with yours. Dare he have hope…..

The minute you start towards him he rushes to meet you.

And then you're in his arms and your cheeks are wet and he's holding you so tightly your ribs feel crushed but it doesn't matter because he's turning and turning, the world is spinning, your heart is rising light as a feather, and then your feet touch the ground again and he's showering your face with kisses, painting you in his love, holding the back of your head, whispering your name breathlessly over and over and over, a song, a declaration, a prayer.

You hold on to his neck, your laughter as bright as sunlight across the waves, returning his kisses with ones of your own, all over his beautiful face, kisses pulsing with hope, with desire, with promise.

He leans back, lowering his mouth to your ear and whispers. His words engrave themselves onto your heart and you pull away to answer him the only way you can answer something like that: with a kiss deep as the sea, tender as the night.

You've found each other again. And you'll never again be parted.

(What did he whisper? This fic is acrostic so check out the first bold word of every section) 💜

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

[greypetrel]

hiiiii for your Shepard Max!!

the lovers: love, harmony, mutual attraction; “I love you so much.” possible AUs/settings/ideas: fluff, soulmate au, confessions, mutual pining

Hi Rowan! Thank you for asking and here you go. It’s silly, it’s light, you can totally forget the galaxy is under attack if you have rock music playing loud enough. (a note: I do like Miranda a lot, but Max’s opinion differs from mine. They grew on each other as rivals, but their start was rough.)

Tis the prompt List

Through the bars of a rhyme

[ Shepard (genderfluid) x Liara T'Soni | Full spoilers for Mass Effect 2 and 3 | 3935 words ]

The Lovers. Upright: Love, unity, relationships, balance Reverded: Disharmony, imbalance, conflict, detachment, bad choices, indecision

2185 – Normandy SR-2

There were no messages from Liara, when Shepard managed to finally sit down.

And maybe go through their mails without anyone to watch them. Hopefully.

They stopped their index finger upon the key to open the first message, hesitating, and looked up instead. Searching for cameras, cctvs, anything.

There were at least eighteen thoughts about having been brought back from death by Cerberus they had to examine. The Illusive Man left them feeling like they were watched and weighted, examined like a fish in a shop. How bright were their eyes, how long ago had they been caught, if their meat was still good to eat, if the fishmonger left the entrails in and the scales on. Sure, Miranda had an interest in keeping them safe. Keeping her investment and her fucking project alive.

Max’s first instinct was to unscrew a pothole in that absurdly big cabin and deprive the pretentious, classy bitch of the satisfaction. They already knew how painful and quick that death was, after all.

But-

Joker.

Beside the mission -someone else could have done it. They didn’t really need them- Max couldn’t leave Joker there, on his own in the grasp of fucking Cerberus.

Not after he threw away a career in the Alliance to follow them.

They would die before admitting it openly, but they were far more grateful for his presence there than they were for a second chance at life.

“Ok, then.”

They patted their hands on their thighs and rose. A quick glance on the messages list confirmed that there was none from Liara, and they needed something to distract themselves from the knowledge that the one person they wanted to hear from the most… Wasn’t there. Not a word, not a greeting not a “What the fuck did you do”.

Not that Liara would have ever told her that.

But nothing at all?

They had to distract themselves. Definitely.

Searching for cameras to dismount would have been a nice distraction, and a much useful one.

Chambers told them that the loft -eurgh- had been filled with everything they may need and want. And if any dossier of them they followed was accurate, there had to be a toolbox in that room, somewhere.

Miranda couldn’t get their scar right on their right cheek, sure. But giving a toolbox to an engineer was… Basic politeness? Basic politeness, surely. Or one thing to complain about if it was missing.

And so it began the operation “explore the goddamn huge room”. Max started to open each drawer and every cabinet, shuffling through the contents -who needed that many shirts?- and snorting to the things that were there because clearly people didn’t know them. Like: silk nightgowns? In pastels? Oh, no.

Nerves raising for that and because there was no sign of one single screwdriver -they would have been content with just one and a roll of duct tape- they almost missed the box, labelling as yet another fancy item – they found a hair curler! As if her bob was long enough to curl or they had the minimum intention to.

But something they didn’t know what, made them stop before slamming close the cabinet door fully.

It wasn’t a cardboard box. It was a fancy one, rigid and covered in leather, closed by metal clasps.

Weird.

Max huffed, shrugging it off and deciding to open it nonetheless. Just for completeness.

Surely it held some other shitty thing she didn’t need, like… They didn’t know. A vertical iron steamer. Miranda looked like the person who would have thought a vertical iron steamer was a basic need necessity, as if anyone looked at how many wrinkles your clothes had when you were shooting at Collectors.

Sitting crossed-legged in front of the cabinet, Max unlocked the box, and yelped when she saw the content as they had just seen a ghost.

Their vinyls.

Their family’s vinyls collection. The one her family collected and kept, brought along from Livorno to Mindoir. The one Max escaped the Batarian attack with. The one they dragged with them wherever they went, the one that held all their childhood.

The one they were sure died with them on the Normandy.

Joey Tempest was looking at them from the cover of The Final Countdown, with the very indenture from mamma’s nail that signalled it was their copy, and not another one.

They shuffled through the discs, checking if there was everything.

The paper sleeves were more worn out, some weren’t their copies but were the right titles, but everything was there, up to the last one she didn’t really like but her grandpa did – Dire Straits. They knew the list by heart still, and the thought was at the same time comforting and heartbreaking.

Max felt the urge to cry.

It was better than any message she could send her, in hindsight.

Because there was a handful of people that would have known to look and retrieve those discs.

But there was only one who knew the whole list.

---

2183 – Normandy SR-1

“Don’t you find it weird?”

Max asked, half a laughter in their voice not betraying how much her heart was in her throat with nerves at the question. They carefully checked their position, slouching a little more against the wall of her cabin, arms crossed to their chest and an ankle crossed over the other. Very casually as if they were doing nothing special at all.

“Should I?” Liara asked, sitting on the chair of their desk, looking up at them again. Her brows furrowed minutely in doubt. “Who else found it weird?”

“Well, you know… In chronological or alphabetical order…” Max pretended to think about it. “Everyone.”

“Everyone?” Liara wasn’t convinced.

“Yup.” Max nodded.

“Why so? It’s just… music?”

The Asari really looked out of her depths. She carefully deposited the vinyl she was looking on the pile of others on her lap, placing both hands flat on top of it right after. Treating them like they were precious and could break if handled badly. Professional deformation, most likely, but it felt a little like it was Max that she was treading so carefully with.

“Yeah, in a storage medium that’s out of production since a century, difficult to store and transport, it takes up so much space, readers are rare and expensive, complex to build by yourself… They’re a relic and I can’t listen to them, basically, and I’ve heard more complaints about my playlist than about everything else I did commanding this ship.”

Max realized only then that it was such a stupid thing to say she couldn’t think of many other that were worse. Why not talking about ex partners since they were there? Boia, they hadn’t even kissed yet -well they almost did but were interrupted, it didn’t count- and Max was already making it awkward. They plastered a smile on their face and laughed, shrugging it off and waving a hand in the air, dismissively.

“Joking, of course.”

Liara didn’t laugh. Liara looked down at the discs in her lap and took some time to think, caressing the cover of the first in line - The Final Countdown, and Max totally, absolutely didn’t take it as a sign. It was just a case that she had stopped on their favourite. On what had been mamma’s favourite.

“I think it’s sweet that you still keep them, even if you can’t listen to them directly.” The Asari moved the pile on the desk with the same care of before, making sure they were all stable before letting it go. “But I’m an archaeologist, loving old things no one can nor should use anymore is the basic requirement for my career.”

She rose up and smiled at her, cheeks taking a shade of blue that looked deeper than before. Max interpreted it as a blush, and smiled back at her, her heart singing in relief. As close as they could get in presenting her new love interest to the family, and it went well.

“And who knows, maybe one day you’ll be able to acquire a reader.”

“I’d need a bigger cabin.”

“Never say never?”

“With the Alliance fundings?"

They shared a laugh, sweeping the awkwardness of the moment away. It felt more natural, then, that Liara had walked closer. Too close.

It felt as much natural for Max to lean forward.

“Can I?”

“P-please.”

Her lips were soft, and Max started to think that Dire Straits weren’t as bad as she had always thought. To Romeo and Juliet they could relate, right then.

---

2185 – Hagalaz

“Dr. T’Soni has left something for you, dr. T’Soni.”

Liara sighed, putting her terminal down to face Glyph. For all Max’s effort, they had managed to switch the drone to call her dr. T’Soni, that was true. Which was nicer than being called Shadow Broker -she still didn’t feel the title as belonging fully to her. The only issue was that the drone now referred to everyone as dr. T’Soni.

Max had apologized, saying that with such a short time, and so many more urgent reparations to be done to the outer shell of the ship, they and Tali couldn’t do more than this. Shepard, Garrus and Grunt had taken down quite the number of antennae and outer components to break in, after all, and if Liara wanted to survive on that ship and in that role, shields and communications were the priority.

Glyph had been a favour. A thank you for the dinner and the talk and well. The rest.

“Which dr. T’Soni are you talking about, Glyph?” She asked, massaging her temple.

“Dr. T’Soni who commands the Normandy, dr. T’Soni.”

Of course.

Liara felt irritation and unease rising in her throat. She told them not to do anything. But telling Max Shepard what to do most often than not resulted into having them doing the exact opposite.

How they survived as a subordinate in the Alliance, Liara never understood.

Nonetheless, she rose and headed where Glyph led her to see that “something” Max left her.

Liara knew that that dinner had been a mistake. She should have cut it right there and then, left them free. Cut the ties before having to mourn them all over again. Running to the Omega 4 relay was suicidal, Max hadn’t had the audacity to say otherwise either. And she had the audacity for much of anything. Including jumping into a relay no one ever returned from on a Cerberus mission.

It had been a mistake.

It had been a mistake falling -because Liara knew herself and she fell, hard and deep- for a human that would have lived but for a blink of an eye and that hadn’t fallen as hard, that was clear. Rekindling that fire, now that she had made up her mind, build herself another life from scratch of the wreck that she had been after the Normandy -the first one- was destroyed. She couldn’t do it again, and she should never have boarded the SR-2 again.

“Just one for the road” they had told them. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

It meant everything, for her, and it scared her that Max had behaved with their usual happy-go-lucky, carefree demeanour. Like nothing ever mattered beside going with the flow. Like Liara didn’t matter enough to leave her with sadness and regret.

Goddess, if they knew how long and how difficult it had been to retrieve all her damn records…

But no.

Letting doubt and fear turn into rage wouldn’t do. Liara had better things to do.

She would enter her cabin, see whatever Max left -a bottle of her Italian fizzy drink of choice, no doubt- and went straight back to work. Like removing a band-aid.

The door slid open in front of her, and she thanked Glyph for letting her in first.

“Goddess-”

Whatever she thought she would have found in there, that wasn’t that.

Balancing between the pillow and the headboard of the bed, the paper sleeve reflecting the neon light above, there was one of said bloody vinyls she all but spat blood to retrieve. With a post-it stuck on the front.

Liara ran to the bed and took it in hand, caressing the the cover. The singer in black and white, looking to the side with a smile in his eyes.

Bruce Springsteen, the album Born to Run.

The post it just recited two simple lines in a messy, angular cursive she knew all too well and she didn’t think she would have seen again.

Together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness I'll love you with all the madness in my soul

(etc etc but I didn’t get bigger post-its.)

Max-

Oh she hated her. Her and her post-its and her ways from a century prior.

She almost didn’t realize she had dialed the Normandy -they docked out half an hour before, but they couldn’t be to the relay yet- until Max’s voice rang, slightly nasal and as if she was singing.

“Yeeeeees?”

“Whoever uses post-its anymore?”

“People of taste, of course.” They huffed. “And of money, can you believe those ones were the most expensive I could find? And they’re so small. Thieves.”

“Why did you get them, then?” Liara sat more comfortably on the bed, carefully placing the disc on her propped up legs.

“Because it’s Cerberus money I was spending. On hindsight, it may have been better to buy the bigger ones in a ridiculous quantity to push the price up. Mh. EDI, notify me in two hours to buy a shitton of huge post-its.”

“Yes, Shepard.”

The computer sounded a little resigned, if an AI can even express feelings.

“Yeah, well… Pretend I thought of this before and I wrote the rest of the lyrics of that verse.”

“Aye aye, Commander.”

They chuckled at that, and there was a full minute of awkward silence, full on unsaid. It felt bad to hang down, it felt unfair to drag this on. On the background of the call, Liara could faintly hear other voices, and heard Max answering distractly, correcting the and giving orders.

“Max, I-”

“There is-”

They said, at the same time. It broke the tension and made the both of them giggle as if they were far younger than whatever their documents said.

“You first.” Liara told them.

“I left another thing in the bigger cabinet in your cabin. Hope you don’t mind.”

“… You didn’t leave me that horrible trap, did you?”

“Hey. It may be the first motorbike I build, but Raffaella isn’t horrible! You’re hurting her feelings.”

“Raffaella?”

“Like Raffaella Carrà.”

“Of course.”

Shaking her head and now dreading to hang the call down, all previous doubts somewhat mitigating in her mind, Liara rose from the bed. The vinyl got back on the pillow, safe as it could be -it survived a float in open space, but it was old and it was long ingrained in her to treat old things with due respect. Knowing the personal history of it only made it more important to preserve.

“Nothing named after Raffaella Carrà can be horrible.”

“It was very insensitive of me to assume the opposite, please bear her my apologies.”

“It will be done.”

Max kept chatting, talking of how Raffaella Carrà had been a great Italian personality from the 1960s onward, and made it as icon for the LGBTQ+ community, collected a great deal of international successes and sang stuff you just couldn’t avoid singing and dancing, even if she wasn’t her favourite genre. As she spoke, as usual not minding much that there was no answer on the other side, Liara opened the wardrobe, half listening and half not. When she saw, she stopped listening altogether.

“Oh, Max…”

“I thought I’d spare you the trouble of collecting them all again. Beyond the Omega 4 could be quite the bother, even for the Shadow Broker.”

Finally tears came up to the Asari’s eyes.

“I’m-”

“If you say you’re not up to the role, T’Soni. Bruce Springsteen is a gift, but I’m only lending you the rest, ok?”

“Are you sure-”

“When this is over, I’m coming back for them.”

“Max, if you-”

“I’m coming back for them.”

They said it with such sureness and determination that Liara almost believed they would have. That passing through an abandoned relay counted as a normal Tuesday activity. A couple of tears fell on the black leather of the box.

“And well, if you could be with them too when I do…” And then they hesitated. “… Well, uh, I’d be happy, that’s it.”

Liara nodded as an answer, blinking tears away from her eyes. She felt quite stupid, both for being still unsure of them, and for not answering vocally to a call.

“I- Uh-”

“Damn, you are pathetic, Shepard.”

A groaning voice Liara knew interrupted, passing by with heavy steps.

“Oh, please, Garrus.” Max groaned, on the other side of the com.

“Your music made her cry. It’s decrepit and loud, of course she’s crying.”

“Reach and flexibility, Vakarian.” Max hissed, annoyed. “Reach and flexibility.”

“You won’t have either, if you have the tastes of and act like an octogenarian Krogan.”

“Boia, dè.”  Max scoffed in italian as per her usual. “First of all, Krogans live-”

It held such an amount of normality that Liara couldn’t find it in her to complain because what had to be a call of two now had a third person in it and it ended up in the other two bickering. She had almost forgot how homey it had become on the Normandy, before… Before.

She just held close to her chest the box with Max’s records, the records that were the only thing she got left of their family, the ones that held a memory each, and kept laughing through the tears.

When Max hang down, still assuring her that they would have been back before she knew it, Liara knew for certain that she did matter.

That assurance, over and over again, and those vinyls, felt more like a declaration of love than the first time they actually told her they loved her.

Half an hour later, she was back to work, assured Feron that she was fine.

And asked Glyph to play Born to Run.

---

2186 – Normandy SR-2

Everything was set in place.

It took them days to put the plan in motion. Day upon day of sneakily entering Liara’s room as she was outside of it - she needed to get out more, and the plan would have helped on that too, coincidentally. If Glyph hadn’t malfunctioned again and everything was going smoothly…

… Max had only to wait.

They sighed, sitting down in front of Raffaella the motorbike cross-legged. It wouldn’t have done waiting idly, so they may as well get some work done. Work on the bike had considerably slowed down since they had not access to Cerberus’ infinite  fundings anymore, and their petty crusade in spending them in the silliest possible ways was officially over.

The fuel tank was bothering her particularly: the gasket had something defective, and as much as Max tried to reshape the rubber, fix it with heat, tighten the tube, it kept leaking. Pouring water in the tank from a glass, now, produced the same result.

They huffed, displeased and frowning at the droplets trickling down the skeleton of the bike. A new gasket was needed, but with the Reapers attacking and Earth in that state… She had to salvage something else to serve the same function. Maybe ask Tali if she had an idea. Tali always had ideas.

In the meanwhile, since Max Shepard wasn’t entertaining a hobby to get bored by it, they decided on the engineering panacea. The solution for everything. The final answer to life, the universe and everything.

Duct tape.

A good roll of tape around the junction would do. Why spending more money on a new gasket when you have cheap, humble, extraordinary duct tape at your disposal?

There. All done. This time water didn’t leak.

Feeling very proud of themselves, Max looked around to see what was the next thing in line when-

A loud guitar riff started to blast from the interphone.

It stopped.

Max smiled wide, looking up at the speaker.

The same guitar riff started again, and it kept up for more time before stopping.

It started and stopped five times, and Max got back to work, humming alongside Angus Young’s guitar as it started again and again.

The sixth time, the song kept up, unstopped, and Max knew what would have come in some moments.

“Shepard, the crew is complaining.” EDI dialed in, sounding resigned. “Again.”

“Tell them I’m the Commander, and the Commander chooses the music.” Max answered, unbothered. “They should thank I have taste, Anderson liked disco.”

“Must the music in private cabins be dialed in the whole of the ship?”

“Not the one in everyone’s cabin. I’ll fix it, worry not, I just need to-”

“Shepard.”

Max looked up from the bike leaning to the side so she could see up the stairs to the door. Liara, still in her pajamas and with just a silken dressing gown not closed on, was glaring at her from the door, absolutely livid.

She was so beautiful when she was angry.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Max beamed, smiling brightly at her as if nothing had happened. “Did you sleep well?”

“Shepard, why are my cabinets playing music when I open them?”

“Oh it’s you?” Max asked, faking surprise. “Lucky, can we change cabin?”

“Max.”

“it’s such a great song.”

“Max, it’s playing in the corridors!”

“’Cause the walls start shaking, the Earth was quaking-” They sang, returning to work.

“And in your cabin and-” Liara stomped down the stairs to reach her.

“-My mind was aching-”

“Tell me you didn’t program my cabinets to play AC/DC in the whole ship whenever I open them.”

“-And we were making it and yooou-”

Max hopped back up on her feet and grabbed Liara’s hands, twirling her around and close to their body.

“-shook me aaaaaall night long!”

“I’m serious, Maxine!”

“Oh, me too! Yeah yooou shook me aaaall night long-”

Their full name was a low hit, but who cared now? They had the Asari they loved in her hands, finally free to see her without permits and documents and whatever after six months of home arrest, commanding their ship, free from Cerberus, with a crew they could choose and yet another suicidal, galaxy-saving, impossible mission to accomplish.

Everything was grim and dark, but Liara was not, Liara was there, their records were back in her bedside table, and at the possible end of the galaxy, Max Shepard could take a breather and concentrate on the good in life.

They knew perfectly well that the anger of the Asari would not have lasted so long. And indeed, it lasted only to the end of a very badly sung chorus before she sighed deeply, shook her head and stopped resisting Max’s attempt at dancing to join her in.

“I’ll fix the cabinets back, I promise.” Max told her, leaning forward to catch Liara’s lips in a kiss.

“You’d better.”

“But it is a great song, isn’t it?”

“I love it.”

Liara kissed again, and for three minutes, everything was good and the music was nice. Her grandma was right, when she said Max had been named after Maxine Sullivan in one particular song. It was later than everyone thought, and since it was, they all may enjoy themselves when they still had time.