☆ Round One!

[jsmn_kink]

Welcome to the first round of the Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Kink Meme at jsmn_kinkmeme!

Below are some basic guidelines to get started. Please make sure you also check out our complete Rules & Guidelines to minimise any confusion.

Guidelines:
■ Anonymously comment with your request – a character/pairing/nthsome, and a kink or prompt.
■ Only one prompt per post.
■ Fillers please link your fills in the Fills Post!
■ Have fun! :)

Keep in mind:
■ Any kinks welcomed!
■ The fill/request does not need to be sexual or porny.
■ Multiple fills are allowed.
■ Fills can be any sort of creative work: fic, art, song, photomanip, etc.
■ Beware of spoilers! Prompters and requesters are encouraged to warn for spoilers, but this rule is not enforced.
■ Warning for non-con, dub-con, abuse, slurs/language, and other potentially disturbing subjects is encouraged but be aware we do not enforce this.

Links:
☆ Current Prompt Post
☆ Mod Post
☆ Fills Post
☆ Discussion Post
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Comments

Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

On returning from the war, Jonathan starts sleepwalking. Through mirrors. And somehow keeps ending up in Major Grant's bedroom....

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

Ohohoho. Yes. Good.

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

Sleepwalking and mirrors is inspired, and Strange and Grant is always hot. Yes please!

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

SUPER hot, LOVE IT

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

How very funny it would be if Grant tried not to wake him (apparently you should never wake a sleepwalker!) and tried to get him to magic his way back through the mirror to his own house. BUT, they both got sucked through and spat out somewhere else where two men in their nightclothes should never be!

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

that would be extremely adorable! <3

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

Mmm, this is so good!

If Sleeping Beauty was awakened with a kiss, maybe a kiss will work with a sleepwalking beauty too?
It will take Grant some time to figure it out, but well, there’s more fun.

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

This is SO cute!!

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

I'm dying of fluff here *_*

OP: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

Loving the ideas. Keep going and please someone write it.

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

this is such an interesting idea!

I also keep imagining some extremely lovely and tender bed-sharing and waking up together. when nothing happened, but in the morning Strange is not even confused at the first moments, just smiles lovely and not at all crookedly #dudesinlove #buttheydon'tevenknowit

OP: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

Yes <3 (although I have no problem with the 'nothing happened' changing later on)

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

Thinking about Grant being in a deep sleep when Jonathan arrives and just gets into the bed with him but instinctively putting his arms around him and pulling him closer in his sleep <3

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

Aw yisss.

And suppose there were no Peninsula Shenanigans (tm)?
Then we can have all the sweet heartbreaking “I’m dreadfully sorry/Think nothing of it” angst again.

Re: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

After the first time Strange appears, Grant, who usually has no trouble at all falling asleep (from what I've read anyway ;)), finds himself lying awake staring at the mirror, unsure if he wants it to happen again

and/or

He talks in his sleep when Strange is there, saying things that he would consider entirely inappropriate if he were awake, and Strange kind of half wakes up and hears him but then in the morning wonders if he really heard it or just dreamt it

Help me I can't stop thinking about this

OP: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking

[(Anonymous)]

Oh I just turned the computer on and this was obviously *not* the first thing I looked at.
Yes yes yes to any and all of the above. So glad I put this on here - you people are amazing.

FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (1/2)

[(Anonymous)]

(I hope the OP and the other anons who have chimed in to build such an intricate picture don't mind me leaving this here? I just thought a 5 + 1, like 'The 5 times Strange sleepwalked into Grant's bed,and the 1 time he didn't, would work with this prompt)

1.

Merlin is going to get himself killed.

The idiot.

"Sir?" The soldier that came to fetch him shuffled on his feet. He was obviously shaken by the sight of Strange illuminating the varicose veins of the old oak tree. Grant takes quick stock of their surrounding before walking up to the magician.

"Merlin." He says. "Merlin." He calls again. Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, it does not escape him that he is still asleep. Sighing resignedly, he moves his hands over Strange's cheek. "Merlin, come along now. It wouldn't do to be sending the enemy a beacon of our location, now would it?"

"Grant?" Merlin slurs. Humming to himself, Merlin smiles. "Grant, I must close the gate or the birds can't come back home."

Blinking, Grant looks back at the soldier. "How long has he been like this?"

"I don't know, sir. I was doing me patrols and I saw him there so I thought it best to call for you."

Grant puts a little more pressure on his contact with Merlin. Somewhere in the back of his mind was his old nan's voice telling him not to wake a sleepwalker for fear that he'll lose his soul to the fairies.

"Merlin. I think you've closed the gate already. Come along now." Much to his relief, Merlin tilts his head slightly, but acquiesced. He moves his palms away from the tree, slipping the over Grant's wrist.

"Grant?" Merlin whispers, swaying on his feet. "Grant, I was looking for you."

"Well, now you've found me." He replies, wrapping an arm around him to pull him along back to camp. Grant moves down the path to Strange's tent, when the man stops in his steps.

"This isn't the way to you."

Grant frowns. "This is the way to your tent, Merlin. I'd thought you'd like to be in your own bed?"

Merlin blinks sluggishly. "No." He says with absolute certainty for someone so unconcious. "I want to be in yours."

Grant feels something in his chest tighten. He shakes his head. It's too early and yet too late in the night to deal with this. Grant mulls over his choices when he catches the red uniform in the corner of his eye. "Speak of this to no one. At first light, come to my tent. Do you understand?"

The soldier, Benjamin was it?, nods. "Good." Grant shifts the weight in his arms, guiding Merlin back down the way to his bed.

2.

He feels the press of body against his and instinctively, he reaches for the pistol he keeps under his pillow.

"What the-? Merlin!"

The man in question buries his head into his chest, wrapping a vine like arm around him. Grant sputters. Unmoored, he looks around his room for signs of how Merlin might've gotten in. The windows are still closed, as is the door. He would have heard it if someone tried to break in, which only leaves... Ah. The mirror.

"Merlin, you can't stay."

They had come to an agreement earlier on that whatever happens in war, happened in war. They were not to discuss the almost constant nighttime visits, the quiet requisitions for bigger cots, or the fact that wherever they had set up camp, their tents were always near each other.

But even with the war over, and them being back on English soil, it has not stopped these visits one bit.

Grant props his pistol on his bed side table. Merlin makes a soft noise of protest when he moves too far out of reach.

"Don't move!" He growls. Grant stops, stunned. There is crossness on Merlin's face, as if he is deeply displeased by something.

"Merlin?" Grant tries.

In response, the arm around him tightens, the fingers tangled on his nightshirt become fistlike.

"Please don't move. I can't protect you..." Merlin's voice comes softly, tender and sad. In the moonlit darkness of his room, Grant sees the crossness melt into an amalgam of helpless and despair. "I cannot protect you..."

Breathing deeply, Grant relaxes back into his own bed. Moving his own arm over Strange, he chances a quick kiss to the man's brow, feeling his breath rustle the fall of curls. "Don't worry." He says, his heart aching in a thousand exquisite ways. "Let me protect you instead."

3.

By now, he doesn't question it. It has been... Hell. Grant had been almost certain he had lost his the magician more than once over the course of the day. Of course Wellington hadn't been generous enough to consider the fact that he needed some medical attention to colour his need to plan out their recovery plans for the next two days.

So by the time he stumbles into his tent, he merely blinks at the sight of Merlin curled up in the too narrow cot, thinking out the logistics of fitting two full-grown men into a space of that size.

"You smell." Merlin says. Grant leans over to check. Huh. Still asleep.

"That's because I need a wash, Merlin." Grant says pointedly.

There is a soft hum in reply. "'Sright."

Smirking, he unlaced his boots, sighing when they come off him. "You're going to hate me in the morning for coming to bed smelling like I took a roll in horse dung."

For a moment, Merlin does not speak, and Grant thinks that he probably drifted off for real, when the man snuffles. "Could never hate you. Love you."

The admission steals his breath. Unconscious as he were, Merlin spoke with such conviction, Grant was tempted to believe that he was still awake.

Bowing his head, Grant swallows down the lump of bile swelling in his throat. This isn't the first time Merlin... Well.

"You wouldn't say that in the morning, but thank you." Grant smiles shakily. Brushing away the dark fall of curls curtaining Merlin's face, he leans down, whispering, "I love you too." Biting down on his lip, he brushes them over the corner of Merlin's mouth.

Standing, he picks up his boots. Grant reckons there is a spot under a tree somewhere that he can lie his head down for a few hours.

Re: FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (1/2)

[(Anonymous)]

This is adorable and sweet!

Re: FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (1/2)

[(Anonymous)]

My word this is lovely and sad and I can't wait to see if they sort their silly heads out!

I love sleeping!Jonathan and his odd sort of coherence and how Grant just goes along with it. Excited for more, this is lovely!

OP: FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (1/2)

[(Anonymous)]

Aww. Thank you. I love the way Strange is kind of rambling nonsensically but also unconsciously expressing his deepest feelings. I've been waiting so long for one or both of them to say the L word. Looking forward to seeing what happens next (please don't break my heart too much)

FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (2/3)

[(Anonymous)]

4.

He receives the first tendrils of that rumour that morning as he leaves his house for the day.

Arabella Strange dead. Husband suspect.

No. That could not be.

Grant is on the street, the sun high in the sky, pavement filled with people, but all he can think of, focus on is the little scrap of information he has received.

'I must go to him.' Is the prevailing thought, but the next one silences the first almost immediately.

'He will come to me tonight.'

And sure enough, the rustling of fabric against fabric, the lift of the corners of his covers. The nighttime chill seeping in.

"Merlin?"

He is alert in the breathless moments between heartbeats. Sitting up, he sees his the magician perched at the edge of the bed. "Merlin." Grant reaches out, only to find himself pushed back onto the covers and Merlin climbing to loom over him.

"You must stay still." Merlin says urgently, tightly coiled for a fight. Grant wraps his hands over Merlin's pinning his shoulders down. "Please stay still. The rain might come for you."

Swallowing, Grant asks, "What will happen if I don't?"

Merlin does not answer immediately. Instead, Grant feels the muscles under his touch unclench as Merlin lets himself fall into the line of Grant's body. Putting his weight on his forearms, he brackets Grant's face, leaning too close.

"I cannot lose you too."

Grant closes his eyes. "You won't."

Moving his hands to Merlin's hips, he strokes his thumb over the cloth covered skin. "You are not going to lose me."

"You do not know that." Merlin murmurs. Grant moves his head away in time to avoid knocking his teeth against Merlin's chin.

Maneuvering their bodies until Merlin is safely under the covers in the space next to his, he tucks him in, running his fingers through his hair.

"You will not lose me. I will fight whoever tries to take me from you." Grant says softly, voice brimming with emotions. He kisses Merlin's brow, sighing. "I'm sorry for your loss, Merlin. I truly am." He smiles when Merlin nods. Shuffling out of bed, he goes downstairs to write a letter to Merlin's brother-in-law.

5.

De Lancey tells him that his their Merlin is back in London in an offhanded manner. It takes all of Grant to be still under the scrutiny.

"Oh?" He offers. Unfolding another missive, his eyes scan the words but comprehend nothing of it. 'Merlin is back? Why has he not come to me?' He thinks, heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Yes, it seems he wants to publish a book on magic that contradicts that of Norrell's." De Lancey leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

"That certainly sounds like Merlin."

De Lancey tilts his head, frowning for the briefest of moment as if Grant is an unusually stubborn conundrum that refuses to unravel. "Yes. Yes, I suppose it is."

Later that night, Grant has the fire going good and proper. He tidies up his room a little before abandoning it after realising that it would not matter anyways. He has had his sheets changed - French silk that felt obscenely soft against his skin and made him feel ridiculously like a man trying to seduce a lover. It takes him another moment to realise that the possibilities of this gesture being noticed is none.

And then, he came.

Through the mirrors with a gust of air, the strange scratching noises accompanying him. Grant turns around from where he'd been standing by the window, only to find himself staring at Merlin's naked body outlined by the firelight.

He stands shocked for a moment before grabbing his dressing gown and throwing it over Merlin's shoulders. Gripping the lapels tightly close, he tilts Merlin's face up by the chin with his free hand. Slowly blinking. Measured breathing. Familiar swaying on his feet. Still asleep then.

"Merlin?" Grant pauses. "Jonathan?" He says, feeling Merlin's Christian name shape on his tongue.

"Grant?" Comes the reply quietly whispered between them. "Grant, is this really you?" Merlin says, wrapping his arms around Grant's waist. "Grant."

"Yes, it is me." Grant reciprocates, letting their bodies fall into an embrace. "It is just me."

"Will you take me to bed?" Merlin asks. The question sparks a low thrum in Grant, something he long thought he had abandoned after he became aware of the nature, the root of his affection for Merlin that went far beyond the camaraderie and brotherhood forged in war.

"Yes." Grant says, the word heavy on his lips. He feels leaden. "Yes. You may sleep in my bed."

Merlin pulls away. "That's not what I was asking." He shrugs the gown off his shoulders. Grant watches, transfixed as Merlin steps back, slowly until the back of his knees hit the bed. Sitting down, Merlin breathes deeply, blinking. Looking up, Merlin leans back.

Grant, torn, steps closer.

Merlin pulls him down by the front of his shirt. Their lips meet in a messy, sloppy wet arrangement with no finesse. But Grant feels a stirring in him. A want. A desire. He reaches out, pushing Merlin's legs apart, slotting himself into the cradle of his hips. He suckles on Merlin's tongue, wrapping himself up in the unfiltered sensation of Merlin responding to him before the horrible realization that Merlin is still asleep crashes over him like a bucket of icy-cold water.

Breaking away, he scrambles for some distance between he and the man in his bed. In the light, Merlin is like painted sin writhing on the silk sheets. Oh, it would be so easy to surrender into the temptation of his emotions! Grant wipes the taste of Merlin's mouth on his lips. The man in question makes a sound of protest at the loss of his body.

"Grant, come back here." Merlin calls out, pulling him back into his embrace.

It doesn't take him a second thought. "No." Grant breathes, the syllable like a thousand daggers at his heart. He holds Merlin's face in his hands, pressing a kiss to his brow. "No." He says again, the pain intensifying.

This time he pulls away, bolting from his room.

(Thank you for all the lovely comments in the first part. I'm glad you guys liked it. I'm extending another part to this just coz I think the +1 bit might take a little unravelling? I hope it's okay.)

Re: FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (1/2)

[(Anonymous)]

this is so lovely, can't wait for the next instalment! thank you!

FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (1/?)

[(Anonymous)]

This has already been filled so wonderfully (thank you anon) but I thought I'd leave my take on it here as well. Hope that is OK. Let me know if you want more.

(Note: I had intended to get to the sleepwalking part sooner but the set-up kind of grew legs and I wanted to include more De Lancey)



On returning from the war, Colquhoun Grant found himself at something of a loss to explain why he was feeling so disconcerted.

Sitting in his study, he reflected on his position. He had of course been expecting the sense of relief that would come with returning to England after a long campaign and finding himself free from the constant pressure of remaining alert and ready to fight. He had also fully expected to feel somewhat melancholy as the grief and exhaustion that he had automatically suppressed during his time in the Peninsula began to affect him. However, what he had not anticipated was this feeling of loneliness, this deep ache in his chest that would not go away.

He supposed that it could be explained by his failure to retain his usual distance from the men who had been fighting by his side. He had allowed himself to become somewhat attached to Colonel De Lancey and, though it amused him to think of it, to the magician, whom he could not help but think of as Merlin. Yes, he told himself, that it what it is. Being unused to having friends, I am simply unaccustomed to the feelings that arise when one is apart from them. But somehow, it felt like more than that.

Over the next few weeks, he busied himself with military affairs, focusing on the logistics involved in bringing the army back from the Peninsula even though it was not really his job and trying not to think about the constant dull pain tugging at his heart. The only time that ache seemed to go away was when he was back in the company of the men he now regarded as his friends.

The three of them spent many an evening at the Bedford, ostensibly playing billiards but really just passing the time in idle conversation and camaraderie. He felt more at ease around them than he would have thought possible with anyone else, relishing De Lancey’s impish grin and sarcastic comments as Strange tried to convince them that he was not using magic to gain an advantage in the game, which nobody was taking very seriously anyway.

Indeed, on the evening when their game was rudely interrupted by two Nottinghamshire gentlemen who simply refused to believe that Strange was who he said he was, he found himself leaping rather enthusiastically to his friend’s defence, insisting that he was the ‘Greatest Magician of the Age’ and expounding upon his exploits in the Peninsula in a way that a prompted a raised eyebrow from De Lancey, who was leaning on the table watching the proceedings with an indecipherable glint in his eyes.

The increasingly heated exchange culminated in Strange passing his cue to Grant, striding purposefully towards a large Venetian mirror on the opposite wall of the room, reaching out his hand and, well, simply disappearing. De Lancey rushed over to the mirror as if he might be able to determine what had happened to Strange and then looked around with shock and confusion on his face, only to see Grant standing there as if he were highly amused by the performance and more than a little bit proud of Strange for coming up with such indisputable proof of his magical credentials.

For his part, Grant was fully expecting Strange to reemerge from the mirror at any minute with a boyish grin on his face as if to say to the two gentlemen “well, do you believe me now?” However, as the minutes ticked past, his demeanour underwent a gradual transformation, from wry amusement to barely concealed panic. The Nottinghamshire gentlemen made their excuses and departed in some haste so as to ensure they would not be associated with the disappearance of Wellington’s magician and he was left alone with De Lancey, the two of them staring at one another with bemusement and a rising sense of foreboding.

“Perhaps he has simply returned to his home rather than coming back here” said De Lancey, “after all, it is getting rather late and it would be a lot faster than waiting for a carriage.” Grant thought this made a lot of sense but nonetheless suggested that they pay a visit to Strange’s house before going home themselves. “Just to make sure he is alright” he said, eliciting a rather peculiar look from the other man.

On arriving at the magician’s house, however, they were greeted by a maid who seemed surprised to be opening the door to two strangers in military uniform rather than the not unfamiliar sight of her master fumbling in his pockets for keys that had once again managed to lose themselves at some point during the evening’s proceedings.

Having discovered that nothing sobers a man up quite as fast as the prospect of having to tell a woman that her husband has walked into a mirror and vanished without a trace, the two of them were shown into the room where Arabella Strange was waiting.

Grant found himself tapping his gloves against the palm of his hand, a nervous habit from his youth that he thought he had outgrown years before, as he approached Arabella and attempted to explain what had happened in a manner that would not give her undue cause for concern. However, as her expression changed from confusion to accusation, he realised that she actually held him responsible for the whole situation. “What on earth were you thinking?” she said, piercing him with an icy stare that felt sharper than any enemy’s blade, “goading him into performing such a risky act of magic just so that you could impress these other men?”

Grant swallowed and looked to his left, hoping for a bit of moral support, but De Lancey had his eyes turned to the ceiling and was studiously avoiding his gaze. Fortunately, before Arabella could continue her tirade, the door opened and the man in question strode into the room, his face alight with wonder.

Grant was immediately won over by Strange’s wide-eyed enthusiasm as he described his adventures beyond the mirror and puzzled that Arabella did not appear to be sharing his delight. Although he was relieved that she had turned her attention to her husband and no longer seemed to be blaming him for the evening’s events, he felt that her angry dismissal and then outright rejection of this astonishing magic was uncalled for and that he would be a whole lot more supportive if he were in her place. In her place? This unexpected and entirely inappropriate thought jolted him out of his reverie and, with an almost sarcastic “Thank you for a pleasant evening”, he turned on his heels and marched out of the room, refusing to even look at De Lancey, who he knew would be giving him another one of his wicked grins.

On returning to his own residence, he decided to retire to his room immediately, hoping that the uninvited thoughts running through his mind were due to the combination of alcohol with the rapid succession of exhilaration, fear and relief that he had experienced during the course of the evening and that they would be banished by a good night’s sleep. He was in the process of removing his waistcoat when his eye was caught by what he thought was the reflection of a flickering candle in the large, ornate mirror on the wall.

He found himself drawn towards the mirror, reaching out his hand as Strange had done earlier, but then saw how ridiculous he looked and dropped his arm to his side, chiding himself for acting so foolishly and sighing “Oh Merlin, what notions have you put in my head?” On finding those notions compounded by the fancy that he could actually see the magician’s face in the mirror, he turned away and continued to unbutton the waistcoat, only to turn back with a startled gasp as Strange materialised out of the mirror before his very eyes.

“Merlin?” he stammered when he was finally able to speak “what in the name of…?” His words trailed off as he realised that Strange was standing quite still, his eyes wide open but seemingly focused on something in the far distance that only he could see. “Oh,” Grant lowered his voice, recognising that this was a manifestation of the somnambulism phenomenon he had read about, and his ever-practical mind tried to recall what would be considered the best course of action in such a situation. He vaguely remembered reading that one was not supposed to awaken a sleepwalker for fear of inducing some manner of fit, so when Strange gave a little shake of his head and started walking towards him he simply stepped out of the way to let him pass, watching with fascination as this slightly dishevelled man, clothed only in a nightshirt, got into his bed, curled up on his side and let out a contented sigh.

I suppose it cannot do any harm to let him sleep there a while, he thought as he pulled the sheets up over the prone form and settled himself into an armchair by the window, doing his utmost to convince himself that the urge to climb into the bed and wrap his arms around the other man was nothing but a side effect of the magic that Strange had used to make his unexpected appearance.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by Strange, who was now fully conscious and seemed to be in a state of some distress.
“Grant? Is this your house? Did I have so much to drink last night that you thought it best to let me sleep it off here rather than returning home to Belle in such a state?”
Tempted as he was to reassure Strange that this was indeed the case and that he was simply looking out for his best interests, Grant felt compelled to reveal the truth. “No, Merlin,” he said “I’m rather afraid you have been sleepwalking on the King’s Roads and that your nocturnal wanderings brought you here for some reason. I did not wish to wake you so I …”

“How odd,” Strange’s brow furrowed in confusion, “I determined earlier that in order to navigate those otherworldly paths, it is necessary to concentrate very hard on a specific destination. Still, I suppose when one is asleep, one simply ends up in the place one most wishes to be.”

Grant felt a jolt of elation at this unexpected conclusion, and yet his head took control of his heart and he found himself saying in a not altogether kind tone of voice “Perhaps you should return home before you are missed. I have already been blamed for your disappearance once tonight and a second time would be entirely unacceptable.”

This reaction seemed to surprise Strange and the look of hurt that passed over his face caused a painful tightening in Grant’s chest, but before he could apologise, the tall figure had crossed the short distance to the other side of the room and disappeared once more into the mirror.

Re: FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (1/?)

[(Anonymous)]

what, how is this possible??? I was sure I left a comment here and yet I came back to check for an update and it (the comment, that is) was not here!

A!A, THIS IS FABULOUS! I love your take on this prompt so much and the way you write Grant (ham sleeping in a chair, adorable!) and interactions between Strange and Grant, I hope the fact that kinkmeme has been a bit dead lately won't stop you and you will continue on with your story! Please please please! (And I think you were going for a bit oh a happier ending? I SO WISH FOR IT. I am ready to leave you several comments at once if only you just continue writing!)

Oh Grant, Merlin was perhaps trying to TELL YOU SOMETHING, but you are so noble...

Re: FILL: Strange/Grant - Unconscious desire, Sleepwalking (1/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Oh, yes! Please, continue!
The beginning is just wonderful.

I really hope you haven't forgot about this one, A!A...