#I don’t know of anywhere – at least here in the states – where Victorians are the cheapest housing option

[marzipanandminutiae]

OK this is on me for putting the important clarifying information in the tags: I am not talking about making a house livable

No I am talking about making a house a stark, white, open-concept hellscape with recessed lighting and marble countertops and two kitchen islands or whatever

That stuff? That is also not cheap. I firmly believe that if people have the budget to make a house look like an IKEA showroom, they have the budget for restoration. That’s not something a middle class buyer who just needs to make the house livable does. And if they don’t have the budget for IKEAfication… Well, I’m not talking about them

(Of course the other side of it is that sort of thing is often done by flippers trying to make as much money as possible, not people who want to live in the house at all)

"we bought this Victorian house and opened up the interior, adding lots of overhead lights and pewter walls-"

biting you killing you biting you killing you biting you killing you

[eideticmemory]

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

You and your husband are house hunting together! :) It sucks! :)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning/Includes: Husband!Matthew, Dad!Matthew, HusbandYouCan’tStopBickeringWith!Matthew all with a happy ending.

Inflection points are real. When you open one of those cheesy books like Before You Tie the Knot and What to Expect When You’re Expecting, they all mention it. Cohabitation and marriage and children, they’re decisions in your life that take you down a completely different direction from which there is no coming back. And on top of this insurmountable and self-inflicted change is the subtle implication that these are the last decisions you will ever make on your own. Which…sucks, which is different, which takes some adjusting, but it’s never been this hard. It has never been so hard for you and Matthew to band together, put your pride aside, and work as a team to make everybody happy. But this isn’t about something small like marriage or children. This is about a house.

This is serious.

When Matthew said that he was willing to pack up everything and move from California to your home state, you were so happy that you could’ve vomited. Your entire body vibrated with excitement and gratitude and peace. You tore his clothes off right then and there, you were so happy. You were so happy that you were going home and that your daughter would grow up riding down the same streets, that she would never know what LA traffic was like and even more so happy that Matthew didn’t suggest Vegas. You love him, you hate the desert.

And it is with this excitement that you crawled into bed that same night and started scrolling on Zillow. Nuzzled into Matthew’s side, giggling, giddy. Your eyes landed on a house and you clicked it, asking, “What about this one?”

And at the same time, you exclaim, “It’s so cute!” Matthew scrunches his face, saying, “It’s terrible.”

You turn to look at each other, very slowly, making eye contact with just the tiniest bit of fear. But, that was just the first house. You both assumed that it would get easier. That there would be some homes you could heart and save for later. But that never happened.

It just got harder.

Because for whatever reason, four walls isn’t enough for Matthew. No, it’s got to be just like his little lodge with all the nooks and crannies and secret trap doors and stupid spiral stairs that you have slipped on at least three times in the past month. It’s not that you don’t love it here but it is abundantly clear that Bachelor Matthew bought this and it is perfect for Bachelor Matthew, maybe Married Matthew and his Married Wife, but now there’s toys everywhere and a play pen that takes up the entire living room and you do not find it as charming as when you first visited. Nor do you want another house just like it.

You like victorian houses. You like the creepy attics and the creaky floors, stained glass windows and narrow, wooden stairs. You find one on Zillow and you’re so excited to show Matthew, but instead of smiling or hell, even just pretending to show interest, he taps the screen and scoffs, “Four bedrooms?”

And you nearly slap him across the head but married people aren’t supposed to do that. So instead you suck in a slow breath and exhale, “Yes…four bedrooms. What’s wrong with that?”

“So, our room, Rory’s room, guest room and room for…what, one other kid?”

“Who…who is the other kid?”

“Our other kid. Our other kids. Where are they gonna sleep?”

You stutter, shake your head to rescramble your brain, “How many kids are you trying to have, Matthew?”

“Well, I was raised mormon so anywhere between ten to twenty is ideal,” he smirks.

“You being funny? You trying to be funny right now?”

“At least with five bedrooms, we could throw in bunk beds.”

You turn to leave and Matthew grabs your hand, pulling you back into him, “Wait, wait, wait, okay, okay, okay. I think…five bedrooms. Minimum.”

“Oh, are you sure that will be enough for our multiple litters?”

“[y/n],” he laughs.

“Matthew, this house is gorgeous. It’s old and well kept. It’s in a great area, the primary bedroom is stunning, they already have a nursery staged, and you haven’t bothered to look because…because, what? Because we might have ten million children? I mean, we won’t. But what the fuck?”

“It’s not speaking to me. We agreed the house should speak to both of us.”

“Oh, okay, well, let me translate. This house is saying…” you pick up your phone and wave it in his face, “Good luck with those other kids, Matthew. I wonder who you’ll have them with.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” he says as you storm off. “That’s hilarious.”

When he approaches later with a house of his own to show you, you’re patting Rory to sleep on your chest and it kind of annoys you when she wakes up to the sound of Matthew’s voice.

“Look at this one, babe,” he takes a seat beside you. “Five beds, five and a half baths, look,” and you sit quiet, let him scroll through, a subtle nod to the patience he lacks. But, still, quiet, your face says it all and he asks, “Why are you making that face?”

“It’s…” you glance at him. “Boring…”

“What? Boring? It looks like a castle.”

“On the outside…the inside is completely modern. And where…” you tap the screen, “Is it? Oh, no, I don’t want to live at the country club. My daughter will not get mowed down in the street because she was on the back of some corporate heir’s golf cart.”

Matthew tilts his head at you, his jaw dropped in genuine confusion.

“It happens!” you whisper.

“Babe…”

“It’s not speaking to me, Matthew, I’m sorry? What about you, Rory, huh? Is it speaking to you?” And your baby girl babbles, smiling, reaching out for Matthew and it makes him forget that you’re insane for a little bit. “I don’t think it’s speaking to her.”

Matthew takes her into his arms and holds her close, her head instantly falling on his shoulder. “This is about that tiny victorian house, isn’t it?” he asks you.

“Well…” you stand up. “It certainly wasn’t boring…not like you would know.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair…” he nods. “So…you do? Like this house, or…no?”

You roll your eyes and walk off, turning the baby’s sound machine on as you exit the room.

Immediately mediation is necessary. So the two of you decide to hire a realtor and poor Maci, there’s only so much she can do.

“Do you know what zipcode you’d prefer?”

“I personally love the downtown area or the northwest area?” you chime in. “Near the children’s museums and aquatic centers, y’know?”

Maci glances at Matthew but you’re quick to assure her, “Oh, he doesn’t know where anything is here. He’s western.”

And for some reason, that just sets him off? He furrows his eyebrows at you and says, “Well yeah…but I’ve been here plenty of times before.”

“Oh? You’ve visited? Did you grow up here?” you tilt your head at him. “Oh? No? Okay.”

Poor Maci, it was so uncomfortable. At this point, it’s her and Rory looking at each other to cut the tension. And she jots down all these must haves that the two of you fire at rapid speed. Like, for Matthew, it’s a three car garage and at this, you mutter, “Jesus…”

And he goes, “What could possibly be wrong with a three car garage?”

“Nothing! Nothing! We just…only have two, but whatever,” you shrug.

Like, you’d prefer an all brick house and at this Matthew scoffs.

“Oh, you want the wind to blow it down?” you snip.

“Ah yes, the only possible housing options…brick, plastic and straw.”

“There’s nothing wrong with an all brick house. It looks better.”

“So you say.”

“So it is,” you snap, tilt your head at him.

“I’m gonna take Rory outside for a bit,” he stands from his chair.

“Oh, good. Try to find a third car while you’re out there,” and the door shuts behind him.

Maci lets out a tense breath and you smile shyly at her, “So…yeah, brick. Let’s go with brick.”

By the time you get back to your hotel, Rory’s tired and full enough to fall right asleep in her pack and play and it’s perfectly quiet because Matthew hasn’t said a word to you.

“So,” you grumble. “You’re just…not gonna talk to me…forever? You don’t like me anymore?”

“You embarrassed the hell out of me in front of that lady.”

“Ditto.”

“Okay, well, I need you to be okay with me disagreeing with you sometimes. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I love you!”

And he says this with so much conviction that you feel your guard drop. “You love me?”

His face softens, “Yes…c’mon. Be serious. I love you more than anything. You’re just…ugh,” he pushes his hair back. “Easy to disagree with.”

Guard: back up. “Easy to disagree with?” you repeat after him, ennuciating every word. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he shrugs. “Exactly that.”

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment and can’t even look directly at him as you say, “Yeah, don’t talk to me anymore.”

He gives you the most passive aggressive thumbs up to ever exist, “Sounds good.”

You take a nice, long, long shower and when you come out of the bathroom, Matthew and Rory are watching Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood on the TV. They give you the exact same look when their heads whip around, definitely related, definitely happy to see you. Her tiny hands reach out for you and Matthew, with his face neutral, lifts the blanket to let you in. You crawl into bed and land in the crook of his arm because that’s your spot. Your head falls on his chest and it’s okay because, technically, he’s not speaking to you.

Maci lines up exactly five houses for you to tour on your next visit. She figures, surely, one must be a common ground. Out of them all, the right one must be there.

Poor Maci.

Two zipcodes. Brick. Plaster. Grand great rooms. Kitchen islands, sometimes two. Libraries. Bay windows. Basements. Each house sings its own special song. Some, you hear clear as day, calling you home. They speak to you. They don’t speak to your husband. Unfortunately, that matters.

In the last house, you follow Maci around until the dreaded, “what do ya’ think?” question in the kitchen.

“I love it,” Matthew grins. And that grin sinks when he sees the pout on your lips. Your arms across your chest. “[y/n] doesn’t.”

“Oh, don’t speak for me,” you roll your eyes.

“But you don’t like it, though.”

“It’s…boring.”

“Okay,” he sighs. He can’t hear you say that one more time. “Babe, no one knows what that means.”

“Um, I think Maci knows, soooo must just be you.”

The glare you two give each other, on either side of this luxury island, is intense enough to make the entire 3,000 square feet house feel small. Very, very small.

Rory is with your parents and without her, the drive back to the hotel is very quiet. Very tense. Matthew rushes into the bathroom as soon as he can and you plop down on the bed with a heavy sigh. When he emerges from the bathroom, he’s shirtless and pouting and moody and broody and you can feel it. You can see it in the way he stomps around and rummages through his suitcase.

He says, “So,” without turning to you. “Not one winner today?”

“Ugh!” It flies out of your mouth before you can contain it. You literally pull at your hair in frustration and Matthew watches with his mouth agape. You rip your shirt off your body and the cool air from the fan hits you immediately. Now you’re both shirtless and pouting and moody and broody. You don’t need to talk about it.

“Do we have to discuss it right now or can we postpone for like…an hour or so?” you ask. You insist. You are begging, tilting your head at him.

And his first thought is: no way she’s trying to fuck me right now? But you are. He can see it in your eyes and the way they lower as he walks over to you. Your hands plant themselves on his waist and you lean into his touch as his palm engulfs your cheek.

“Make it two hours?” he runs his thumb along your lip.

You shrug, running your hands up his waist, “Make it as long as you’d like.”

He nods, “Okay,” and pushes you back onto the bed where you land with a quiet ‘oof!’ before he crawls on top of you.

It kills a lot of time. Lot of tension to work out.

Your body is relaxed like never before as you lay there naked against his chest, with his lips peppering soft kisses on your sweaty shoulder. As you catch your breath, it’s the most comforting silence you’ve shared in a while.

You touch his lips and he kisses your fingertips, holds your wrist in his grasp. “Not one winner, huh?” he whispers, holding to catch you at peace.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head and cover his mouth. “Not yet.”

He nods, nibbles on your wrist, “Fair enough.”

Your both in such a good mood when you go to pick up Rory. She crawls over to you at lightning speed and babbles excitedly and you coo over her like you’ve never met her before. You missed her.

And this joy is misinterpreted in a way that someone says, “You two are happy, did you find a house?” so your smiles drop.

“No,” you say in unison.

As Maci embarks on her next hunt, she’s opted for sending you virtual tours. She sends them in groups of four at a time and they are very useful. You can lay in bed, curled into Matthew’s side as he clicks around on his laptop and the serenity of it makes it harder to bicker.

Doesn’t make any of the houses suck any less, though. Doesn’t stop the annoyed sighs and smacking of teeth and the abrupt ‘whatevers’ to change the subject and the screen.

The very last of the bunch, you have your hopes up. The exterior is promising. The number of bedrooms, bathrooms. Matthew opens the view of the entryway and you just stand up, “I’m done. I’m going to shower. Goodnight.” And he, just as disappointed, shuts the laptop quickly.

It was nice to at least be on the same page with that one.

And poor Maci, she’s trying so hard. The two of you are stressing her out, but it’s hard to say what the outcome would be without a realtor equally as stubborn. Because when she thinks - no. When she knows she’s found the one, she calls your phone at midnight and leaves a voicemail saying - I am so sorry to call you so late but there is a house and I want you and Matthew to come see it as soon as possible. [pause] How soon can that be?

It’s soon. You make the trip back out there but it is done with very little enthusiam or optimism. You suspect that Maci knows this and she’s opting for suspense to lure you in. This is a blind viewing. She’s driving. You just have to wait and see.

“The country club?” is your first impression as she drives you into the neighborhood.

“Is this not one of the zipcodes you picked?” Matthew asks you and you roll your eyes.

“Yes. It is, I’m just making an observation. Damn.”

“You can opt in or out of being a member at the club,” Maci chimes in. “Completely voluntary.”

“Is this where we’re gonna live, Maci?” Matthew laughs.

“I think so,” she nods. “I really think so.”

Because all you and Matthew wanted was to know. To not have to think, but to see it and know. To see a house that was, at first sight, yours. To know.

And when you slowed down upon the house on the hill, you both knew. You both gasped. You looked at each other.

The driveway is gated and is almost like a rollercoaster up the hill. This rollercoaster ends at nothing other than a three car garage on an all brick house. Brick stairs leading the front door which lead to an entryway where you feel it. You know, with one step on the hardwood floor, this house is yours.

Maci goes into full tour mode, “So this is the foyer and all you walk in, you have your formal dining room on the left…” and you are holding Matthew’s hand. You are holding his hand and wrapped around his arm and the two of you are walking and staring at this house and Maci’s voice just sounds like “blah blah blah blah blah…”

There’s two islands in the kitchen. A large sunroom right beside it that gives entry to the lush backyard. A center fireplace in the living room. Built in bookshelves. A guest room, a guest bathroom.

It all just flows.

The main bedroom is upstairs and it has two closets. You nearly faint in each other’s arms - two whole closets!

There’s 4 additional bedrooms on the upper floor and so, yes, should it be that you have multiple litters of children, there’s room. Just in case.

Way below is the basement where there’s not only plenty of room to lounge but a full wet bar lined with green tile and neon lights lining the walls. You exit the basement and plant your feet in the driveway, coming full circle to Maci’s car. She turns to you both, her smile as wide as yours.

“So?” she asks anxiously.

You look at your husband and he’s already looking at you. “Speaking to you?” he grins.

“Yelling at me,” you laugh.

He giggles and can’t help but kiss your cheek. He turns to Maci and nods, “You were right. This is it.”

The paperwork and red tape is the last of the bullshit and that itself feels very short in comparison to the past few months. It’s the easiest. It’s the happiest. So far. By the time the two of you are alone in your car, you take a full minute to breathe. Then you look at each other and the words come rushing out.

“Is it really over?” you ask.

“It’s really over.”

“I love it. Do you love it?”

“I love it!”

“Me, too! Aw, I wish Rory had been there. I wish she had seen it.”

“She’ll see it. She’ll love it.”

“She will!”

And with the sweetest laugh ever, Matthew grabs your face and kisses you. You’re giggling so much that it’s not a true, proper kiss but it does its job. You get the message.

“Do you know what this means?” he says.

“Yes, now I won’t have to smother you in your sleep.”

“No no, you’ve still got plenty of time for that. Besides that, do you know what this means?”

You chuckle, kiss his nose, “What?”

“Furniture shopping!” He cheers.

You gasp, you tear yourself away from him just to buckle your seat belt. “Oh, my god. You’re so right. So true.”

He laughs as he buckles himself in, holding your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. He asks, “Are we friends again?” with a pout on his face and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

You bring his hand to your face and kiss his knuckles in return, “Best friends.”

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

Mess With The Best. Die Like The Rest. (Affinity Series)

Alpha!Bucky x Sweet Little Omega!POC!Reader x Alpha!Steve

Wordcount: 6235

Summary:

A certain someone from your past tries to rain on your parade of love and is dealt with accordingly. 

Warnings:

Domestic Fluff, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Mating Cycles/In Heat

Notes:

A little angst never hurt anybody. Don't worry it is rare for me not to have a HEA. I don't like writing angst for angst sake. Happy Reading Heathens 😈

Bannner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

It’s a glorious Saturday afternoon.

The sun is high in the cloudless sky as you drive along the country roads deeper into the compound. You sometimes forget just how large this place really is. Tony made sure to have enough space so that anyone on the team could make a home without feeling suffocated with the day-to-day that is being an Avenger.

As your taking in all the lush greenery around you, you feel the car begin to turn onto a road you have never seen before.

“Ooh. This is new. Looks freshly paved.”

“It is. Finished just a couple days ago actually.” Bucky states.

“I wonder what it could possibly be all the way out here?”

“Well, stop pondering and just let your eyes wander, Doll. I’m sure it will show itself soon.” Steve quips with a poke to your side from the backseat.

Just as you turn in your seat to give the cheeky Alpha a sassy retort the tree lined road opens to clearing. Revealing luscious green grass surrounding the most beautiful Victorian Gothic house you have ever laid eyes on. It looks as if someone had reached inside your head and brought your dream home to life.

“It’s so beautiful.” You whisper to no one.

“Want to take a look inside?” Bucky asks, while gently grabbing your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. You hadn’t even noticed that the car had stopped.

“Can we? I don’t want to disturb whoever lives here.”

“It’s a brand-new property. Tony only let us know about it last week.” Steve answers.

“Then yes, please. I’d love to take a look inside before it gets snatched up.” You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the door handle. Launching yourself out of the car as fast as your legs can carry you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, there little Omega. The house ain’t going nowhere. Pump the breaks, baby girl.” Bucky chides you.

“Sorry.” You quickly reply. “I’m just so excited to see what the inside looks like.

“Well, I’m the one with the keys so you’re going to have to at least keep pace with me.” Bucky teases.

“Get a move on then Alpha.”

“Brat.” Steve whispers in your ear as he gives your ass a smack. “Behave. I know your excited, Doll, but there really is no rush.”

You take a calming breath, trying to tamp down some of your excited energy. That all goes out the window the moment Bucky unlocks the stained glass adorned front door.

Your Alphas are quickly forgotten as you race around the house.

Once again you feel as if someone made your dream home a reality. From the black, gray, crimson, copper, and white aesthetics adorning the walls and standard fixtures. To the ornate clawfoot tub in the master ensuite.

You make your way back to the surprisingly bright and open kitchen. The windows let in the perfect amount of light to make the most used room in any home feel warm and inviting.

 “What do you think, little Omega?” Bucky asks as you dance your fingers along the marble island.

“It's stunning. Tony really out did himself this time. It's like its torn out of the pages of a gothic romance novel.” You swoon.

“I agree. I think it's perfect. Do you think we could be happy here?” Bucky queries.

Turning to face him you answer truthfully. “I’d be happy anywhere my Alpha's are.”

"What he means to say is…" Steve begins.

You watch, eyes wide, as both men get down on one knee. Bucky on his left, Steve on his right, allowing them to connect in the center where together they hold an open velvet box containing two rings that interlock to create one magnificent piece. 

It's dainty and elegant. With just a hint of danger. Another thing that seems plucked from your dreams. 

Steve continues. "Will you make us even happier than you already have by becoming more than just our sweet little Omega…"

"But our sweet little wife as well?" Bucky finishes.

With the tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to fall, you whisper your answer. "Yes."

"What was that? Couldn't hear ya. Need to be a bit louder, baby girl." Bucky teases.

"Shut up. You heard me. Super soldier hearing and all."

"Well I'd like to hear it again just to be certain."

“Me too.” Steve adds.

"Yes. James and Steven. A thousand times yes."

They grin ear to ear as they place the rings on your finger.

“We promise to fill this home with all the love and babies you can handle, little Omega.” Steve declares.

You pull them both up by their collars so that you can seal the engagement with a kiss.

“Please tell me, we get to stay here tonight?” You state, staring adoringly at your new ring.

“Just say the word and Pepper will be here to help select furniture and have it delivered before the day is over.” Steve informs.

“Oh, wow. Being mated to Avengers certainly has its perks.” You chuckle. “What about all our things at the apartment?”

“Movers are on standby. We weren’t leaving anything up to chance. We know our sweet little Omega. There was no way you would resist moving as soon as possible.” Bucky supplied with a kiss to his claiming mark along your collarbone, hugging you from behind.

“Well then. Make the calls.” You pull out of Bucky’s arms, kissing each man on the cheek. “I’m off to go find the perfect place to put my nest.”

You hum to yourself as you saunter through your new home. A shiny new ring adorning your finger and a promise for forever brightening your smile.

The first morning in your new home…

You’re awoken to the feeling of your body being moved. Followed by a tickling across your legs and the feeling of something wet sliding across your folds. You open your eyes to find Bucky with his face buried between your parted thighs.

A moan escapes your throat before you can begin to speak. “A-alpha. W-what are you doing? I was trying to get some sleep after the night you and Stevie put me through.”

"I couldn’t help it baby. What else am I supposed to do when you're lying in our bed looking all cute. My shirt that you stole to sleep in; being the only thing you have on, is bunched up around your waist because you can’t help but twist onto your tummy and bend your leg up regardless of if one of us is there to wrap around or not. You've got that sweet, sweet peach on full display looking ready to be played like bongos. And then when I run a finger along your outer thigh, and you arch your back like good little Omega in heat, teasing me with a glimpse of the treasure you keep between your thighs. Well what can I say. My brain shuts off. Goes right into autopilot and I can’t be held accountable for the wicked things my tongue does when left to its own devices." He confesses. 

"You're a menace, Sarg."

"Yes, I am. But you love it. Now let me get back to my breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day after all."

You lay your head back down, spread your thighs a bit more and enjoy the early morning spoiling.

Steve, having just finished his morning run, is drawn to the sounds emanating from the bedroom. Upon his approach he leans against the doorframe. He’s shirtless. His grey joggers sitting low on his hips. His dick print elongates, creating an uncomfortable bulge as he watches his best friend and packmate please you.

“I don’t know what I want more. To listen to those sweet little moans get louder as you get closer to coming undone or to muffle them by filling your throat with my cock.” He gives his dick a squeeze and your glazed over eyes focus in on the movement and never stray. You lick your lips at the thought of getting your own shot of protein for breakfast.

“Want my dick in your mouth little Omega? Want me to feed you just like your feeding our head Alpha?” He pulls his dick out of his sweats and gives it a slow pump.

You whine and nod your head. Bucky stops teasing your clit and pulls back just enough to growl against your mound. “Use your words Omega.”

“Yes. I want your cock in my mouth, Captain.”

“Good girl.” Steve purrs. Stepping over to the bed and running a finger across your cheek. “Open up for me, baby.”

Bucky takes that moment to flatten his tongue and lick a path up your slit. Collecting all your slick honey along the way. “Fuck. You always taste so sweet, Omega. Better hurry up and get to sucking before your too stupid to remember how.”

You waste no time teasing your tongue along Steve’s length from base to tip. Making sure every inch was nice and wet. Wrapping your lips around his tip, you up into his ocean eyes and proceed to suck him down to the back of your throat.

You allow yourself a moment, mouth full to bursting, as you figure out how to breathe with so much thickness restricting your airways.

That is when Bucky chooses to suck on your aching pearl. Running the smooth underside of his tongue against the sensitive button, causing you to moan around the girth in your mouth.

The vibrations of your voice box along Steve’s shaft evokes a steady growl from his chest, and a slight jerk of the hips. “Fuck, Omega. You know what moaning with my cock in your throat does to me.”

Pulling your head back, you release him. A string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his spit-soaked tip. “That’s the point, right? I thought you wanted me to be a good little Omega?”

“Fucking brat,” You hear Bucky whisper against your thigh. Giving it a nip before getting back to his meal.

You take Steve’s silence as your que to swallow him back down. Focused on bringing him to his knees, you suck the life out of his cock. Bucky’s not the only one with a ravenous appetite.

Just as you can feel Steve teetering on the edge of his climax, Bucky slides two of his thick metal digits knuckle deep inside you. He even takes the time to curl them upwards. Hitting that sweet spongy spot that brings your orgasm to the forefront. Within moments you’re pulling off of Steve and falling apart on his tongue. Screaming out your pleasure to fill the room around you.

Your body quakes with aftershocks from the intensity to which you just came. You are not to be deterred though. You NEED your Alpha’s to feel as good as you do right now.

You scramble off the large bed. Lowering yourself to your knees on the plush area rug you had placed the day before. “I need both of you to lose the sweats and come stand before me.”

“That what you need little Omega? To suck both of us off. One dick to service isn’t enough for you this morning?” Bucky teases.

“Never. Always want both of you. All the time.” You whimper.

They exchange a look with each other before removing the offending sweats from their bodies and coming to stand in front of you shoulder to shoulder.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you on your knees, baby girl.” Bucky whispers out as he traces your lips with his flesh hand.

You squirm on your heels. Waiting rather impatiently to service them. That fuzzy hindbrain has taken over momentarily and all you can think about is pleasing your Alphas.

“Please.” You whine.

“Such good manners.” Steve praises you. “Go on, Doll. Make us feel good. Earn yourself a tasty little morning treat.”

That’s all you need to hear to place a hand around each of their dicks. Giving a slow tug until a pearl of precum makes itself know on their tips. Stretching out your tongue you make sure to collect each enticing drop.

You then proceed to alternate between them. Deep throating one as your hand jacks off the other. Teasing their knots until they are tight and ready to pop.

Leaning back on your heels, you open your mouth wide. Signaling to them that you’re ready for your creamy reward. With both being so close to brink of ecstasy, it doesn’t take long before they succumb to a mind-numbing orgasm of their own. Coating your tongue, face, and chest with rope after rope of their combined seed. Staining the shirt you slept in like a Jackson Pollock.

You can only imagine how crazed you look. Hair a mess. Smiling from ear to ear as you’re covered in the very essence of your mates. Your broken from your blissful revelry when the now cum stained shirt is pull off your body.

You watch in horror as Bucky goes to toss it in with the other dirty clothes.

"No! Don't put it in the hamper!” His arm stops midair. The shirt still clutched in his fist. “I want it in my nest. It’s the perfect blend of all of us. I need it." You plead. Sounding whiney even to yourself.

You know your heat is coming soon. You can already feel the pre heat symptoms slowly creeping in, but you don’t care. You need that dirty shirt in your nest.

"Should I be concerned that her needing to have a shirt that's covered in our cum is turning me on right now?" Steve questions.

"No. I think that falls into your possessive pervy wheelhouse. And I’m right there with ya, pal." Bucky agrees.

You shake your head. "Knotheads. The both of you." Snatching the shirt from Bucky’s grasp you head off to your nest to find the perfect spot to place it before claiming the first bath in your glorious new tub.

The following weekend…

The main compound patio and lawn has once more been transformed. Any excuse for Tony to throw a party he is on top of it. Well, Pepper is. Tonight he’s throwing his favorite mated pack a housewarming party so that we can announce your engagement semi publicly. If that is what we wish to do of course.

Seeing as how the party is in your honor, you made sure that your best friend Arlo got an invite. And the Alpha couldn’t be happier about it. Not since he quite literally bumped into Bellamy, one of Bruce’s Lab Assistants and seems to have made a connection. Could it be love? Who knows, but at least it’s been fun to watch.

When Bellamy gets pulled away by his fellow techs to take a round of shots you seize the opportunity to cozy up with your bestie.

"Who knew you were attracted to something other than gym bro betas and service Omegas?" You tease.

"Watch yourself little misses. Your track record until of late was not the greatest either. Your picker was broken too" He jabs back.

"Good thing I used mine instead, huh?" Bucky chimes in.

You all hear a loud obnoxious laugh ringing out over the crowd followed by a girlie giggly. Wanting to know what all the commotion is, you find your eyes scanning the party for the culprit.

That’s when your eyes land on the large solid frame of your abusive asshole of an ex, Caleb and you freeze. Your breath halts in your lungs and you turn pleading eyes to Arlo.

"Oh no.” He whispers. “Not that face. Please tell me your seeing things."

This alerts Bucky who is already at your side and Steve who had just made his way over with fresh drinks in hand.

"What's going on? Why's our Omega frozen in fear like that?" He demands.

"One word.” Arlo sighs in exasperation. “Caleb."

"You mean her waste of space Alpha asshole ex that shouldn’t be breathing let alone at a party in our honor, Caleb?" Bucky grits out.

"One and the same. Looks like he's attached to one of the female agents. Must be her plus one" He observes.

Steve tracks where your eyes have returned and sees a well-dressed man with his arm around a young omega agent that he recognizes. Clearly working his charm on the group that surrounds him.

"Vivienne." he growls.

"The omega that has been giving you issues in training is here with that scum?" Bucky asks.

"Not for long. She has the option to stay as she is part of the lesser teams. But he has to go. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, so I think it's best if you and I handle this quietly."

They exchange a look with each other. One that conveys that no matter what happens they are on the same side and will protect you at any cost.

"Arlo, why don't you take our Omega out on the dance floor and get her mind off things." Steve suggests. His Captain voice leaking through.

You snap out of your fear-stricken haze and turn to your Alphas. "You're leaving me?"

"No baby." Bucky coo's, nuzzling your cheek. "We're just going to go take out the trash. Didn’t want you worrying when you should be celebrating."

You look at Arlo. "Come on sweets. Let's destroy the dance floor and show these Avengers how to really party."

You look to your Alphas once more. "Okay. But you owe me a dance when you get back."

"Oh my sweet, sweet, little omega. Nothing could keep me from feeling that glorious body grind up against me while you’re lost to the music." Steve teases. "Have fun ruining our friends."

"I swear one of these days, those hips are gonna get somebody pregnant." Bucky jests.

"Is that so bad?" You state with innocent eyes.

He pulls you close and whispers in your ear. "Watch yourself little Omega. I just might take that as a challenge." He kisses you behind the ear and then turns to his best friend.

"Give your Alphas a kiss for good luck baby girl." He requests and you happily oblige.

Steve takes the liberty of deepening his and making sure to get your sweet scent all over him. "Now I can handle business properly. We won’t be long, Doll. Arlo, don’t let her out of your sight."

"Aye aye Captain!"

You shake your head. "You just had to make it awkward. What am I going to do with you?"

"Come on. I couldn’t help it. It was right there." Arlo laughs.

"You're lucky I love you." You jest.

"I’m a damn delight and you know it. Now let’s go shake our asses and turn this party up higher." He grabs your hand and leads you out on to the dance floor.

Bucky and Steve watch you saunter off before they face each other once again. "Got any ideas how you want to do this?"

"Just follow my lead." Steve replies.

"Aye, aye captain."

"Wow. Et tu Bucky. Et tu?"

"How's everybody doing? Having a good time?" Steve asks with a friendly smile on his face.

"Hello, Captain Rogers. It's a great party. Congrats on the new house. I'm sure being closer to work is nice." Vivenne greets him.

"The privacy and extra space was needed." He looks over to Caleb, his public mask firmly in place. "You're a new face. Hello, I'm Steve Rogers."

"I know who you are, Sir. And the Winter Soldier as well. I'm Caleb Withers. It's a pleasure to meet you. As my lovely date has already said, this party is great. Never been to a housewarming so big."

"Yeah. Usually Tony goes too over the top, but our Omega deserves all the bells and whistles."

"That's just the sweetest thing. I want my Alpha to gush about me like that someday. Where is she? I'd love to congratulate her as well." Vivienne carries on.

"She's on the dance floor with her best friend Arlo." Steve answers. Smile sat smugly on his face.

At the mention of Arlo's name, Caleb's brows furrow. "Arlo Ducant?"

"Yes, actually. Do you know him?" Bucky inquires with a darkened glare.

It's at this moment that the wind (or possibly a tipsy Scarlett Witch) kicks up. Pushing the scent of you mixed with your Alphas in Calebs direction.

He can't help but inhale. The familiar scent invading his space and evoking memories of the Omega who got away. The one who practically maimed him the last time he ran into her.

Ever the observant soldier, Steve notices the subtle changes happening before him. "Ah. Looks like someone finally figured it out."

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me." Caleb spits out.

"What’s going on?" A confused Vivienne asks.

"Your date is our Omegas ex. I’m not going to get into particulars here but it's time for him to go." Steve succinctly states.

“Excuse me?” Caleb pipes up.

“You heard him. You’re not wanted here.” Bucky steps forward.

“Yeah. No.” Caleb stands taller and takes a slow sip of his drink. “If she wants me gone, she’s going to have to come over here and tell me herself. Not send over her little minions.”

“Caleb, what the fuck?!” Vivienne says on a gasp. “I am so sorry Captain. I didn’t know.”

“We’ll talk about this on Monday before training. You're dismissed.” 

Not willing to have her risk her job over some asshole, Will, a fellow agent and Alpha, grabs her hand. “Come on, Vivi. Let’s go refresh our drinks.” He quickly spirits her away without further issue.

“I’m really not a fan of repeating myself. So place the drink down and let’s go. We’ll personally escort you out since you have such a hard time following direction.” Steve dictates.

With a clench to his jaw, Caleb downs his Vodka in one gulp, maintaining eye contact with Steve, before placing the glass down on a nearby table.

“We’re all going to walk calmly out of this party. I assume you didn’t bring a car. But that’s of no matter. Tony always has drivers on standby for parties.” Steve states. “Let me make one thing abundantly clear. You will not make a scene on our way out. Your presence alone nearly sullied our entire night. I will not have our Omega embarrassed over some poor excuse for an Alpha.”

Caleb glares at the only somewhat larger Alpha before him.

Bucky shuts him down real quick. “I wouldn’t get any funny ideas right now if I were you. The only reason your still standing is because besides Arlo and our Omega, we’re the only ones who know what kind of an Alpha you really are.”

“It’s time to go. After you.” Steve cuts in before Caleb can spew a retort.

The walk out of the patio was uneventful. Upon venturing through the darkened pathway that ran along the side of the compound, Steve, with the quickness only a Super Soldier can possess, grabs Calebs collar and pins him against the wall.

The little shit laughs in his face and shakes his head. “Oh wow. The little bitch really has you in a chokehold doesn’t she. I mean I know that pussy is magical but damn.”

“Watch your mouth when you talk about our mate, pal.” Steve grits out.

“Our mate? Both of you claimed her. What kind of old school bullshit is that?”

“She has two mating glands; therefore she was destined two Alphas. She was meant for a pack not a pair.” Bucky states while remaining deadly calm.

“And she chose a murderer and America’s bitch boy to mate with?” He starts laughing once again. “Fucking figures. She was always so..”

His words are cut off when a fist makes contact with his jaw. “Say whatever the fuck you want about us. We’ve heard it all. But what you won’t be doing is bad mouthing our girl. I should kill you where you stand for ever thinking it was okay to hurt a woman. I’d get away with it too. Benefits of being, what was that you called me, oh yeah America’s Bitch Boy.”

“Him I could believe. You? You wouldn’t have to balls to actually do it.” Caleb goads.

Bucky sighs in exasperation. “Fuck. Here we go.”

Without saying a single word, Steve begins to rain down fist after fist to Caleb's face and abdomen. He knows he’s broken at least three of the douchebags ribs. Besides a possible fractured orbital socket. Hard to tell when his eye is swollen shut.

“Which hand is your dominate one?” Steve demands.

He raises his right hand as his left holds on to his chest. Steve takes the hand and proceeds to break every finger. When the bastard starts to scream, he pins him back up against the wall with a hand around his throat. Choking out any sound.

As the anger that this man caused you pain rises. That he left you bloody and bruised and had the nerve to try and intimidate you even after you got out of that situation. His grip around Calebs throat tightens.

It’s when Bucky notices him start to turn a bit blue that he steps in. “Alright, Stevie. He’s had enough. Both Pepper and our little Omega will be pissed with us if there’s a body that needs cleaning up. Let the douche bag go.”

Coming to his more rational senses he loosens his grip. He lets Caleb fall to the floor, gasping for air, faced muddled in bruises in fresh cuts. There is no way he is showing his face here again.

While his best friend catches his breath, Bucky reaches down with his metal hand and pulls Caleb up from the floor by the back of his shirt. Not wasting any more time, he continues their intended trek out to the driveway where a car is most likely waiting to take him away.

You’d think being nearly beaten to death by Captain America would have knocked some sense into him or at least kept him quiet. But Caleb was determined to have the last word. The entire journey to the town car, he continued spewing his hate. Calling you horrible names and saying all you were ever good for was a tight pussy and decent looks. That he and Steve must have really low standards if they chose you.

By the time they reached the car, Bucky has had enough.

Happy was standing off to the side, making sure his drivers were ready at a moment’s notice. Not batting an eye at the battered man being dragged by the Winter Soldier, he approaches them.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your sweet little lady? Not out here taking out the trash?”

Steve, having emerged from the darkened pathway answers for him. “This particular trash needed special handling.” He takes out a handkerchief and begins wiping his knuckles free of blood.

“I see. Raymond, I’ll be driving this man myself. Keep an eye on things for me will you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Happy opens the back door as Bucky lifts Caleb up to lean against the car. The asshole has more parting words for him. “We’re not so different you and I. One of these days she’s going to open that smart mouth and say the wrong thing and your hands will lash out without thought.”

Bucky leans all of his weight into the man. Making sure to add extra pressure to his ribs. “Just because I saved you from my best friend murdering you on our night of celebration doesn’t mean you’re safe. I’ll be keeping tabs on you myself. You better be on your best behavior. You won’t see me coming until your slowly bleeding out.”

He shoves him none to carefully into the back seat and slams the door. “I don’t care where you take him Happy. Just get him away from here. And make sure your drivers keep their mouths shut about what they’ve seen.”

“Already done.” Happy agrees. He gets into the driver’s seat and takes off down the long and windy driveway.

“You can’t walk back into the party like that, pal. Your shirt is covered in blood.” Bucky chuckles with a shake of his head.

“I don’t give a fuck about that. I need to see our Omega. Know that she is okay.” He growls out.

“Down boy. I’m going to go get her and then we can all head home. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve bobs his head.

Bucky whistles for one of the valets to grab their car. When it arrives he addresses the still clearly agitated Alpha. “Get in the back and try to calm yourself down man. I’ll drive us home so our sweet little Omega can sort you out in the back. Got it?”

“Don’t take forever.” He retorts, sliding into the backseat.

You’re blissfully unaware of the carnage that has taken place as you make your way to the car with Bucky. You know Steve is waiting for you and even though this was a party for you all, your social battery is just above empty. You just want to be at home with your Alphas.

You reach the idling car in no time and Bucky opens the back door for you. You slide in and a gasp leaves your mouth. Steve’s shirt is covered in blood. Your Omega instincts kick into high gear and you begin checking him for injuries.

“Little Omega, I’m okay. It’s not my blood.” Steve says in a soothing tone.

“Then who’s is it? Was the compound attacked?” You ask, still frantically checking him over.

“No baby. The compound is safe. We just had a little discussion with Caleb on his way out. Things may have gotten a little heated.” He states.

Bucky, having started the car, chimes in as he makes it out of the driveway. “The idiot kept running his mouth and Stevie almost killed him for it.”

You look to your Alpha as warmth settles low in your belly. This man loves you so much that he almost killed a man just to protect you. You can’t help the sinful smile that spreads across your face.

Who knew defending your honor so fiercely was such a turn on. Could be instincts. Could be that your heat is so close. The reason why is of no matter. All you know is that you need to show your Alpha just how appreciative you are of his protection.

You hike your dress up and crawl into Steve’s lap. He tilts his head at the sudden change in your demeanor. A question clearly poised on his tongue. One that never gets to see the light of day as you lean forward and place a devastating kiss to his pillow soft lips.

You hum into the kiss, feeling your temperature rise, he pours the same amount of emotion into it as you have. You break away from the kiss and start praising your big strong Alpha for standing up for you. Pulling his hands up to your face and kissing his angry knuckles. Then sucking on his thick fingers like you would his cock.

You’re driving him crazy, and he just needs to feel all of you. He needs to remind himself that you are okay, and nothing will ever happen to you on his watch. With those quick reflexes you love so much, he spins his body and places you on the seat. Lowering himself down into the footwell, where he places sweet kisses to your thighs before ripping your panties off your body.

With a rumbly growl, he leans forward and begins feasting on your dripping pussy.

Glancing in the rearview mirror Bucky can’t help but point out his observations. “This seems vaguely familiar yet different all the same.”

Clearly, he is referencing the night you fully met the team for the first time. When you and Bucky were fooling around in the backseat on the way home while Steve drove. The night you first tasted Steve on your tongue.

Next thing you know you’re coming on Steve’s tongue. The orgasm was amazing but it’s not enough. So you proceed to pull your Alpha up by his disheveled hair. Your fingers waste no time unzipping his slacks and pulling his hardened cock out. “Please, Alpha. Need you inside me. Now. Want your knot.”

Once more he lifts you up and spins so that he is now seated with you hovering above him. “Then take it little Omega. It’s all yours.”

Slick is leaking down your thighs and your temperature is continuing it’s steady climb. You am more than ready to take his thickness. You notch his weeping head to your entrance and slide down his length with ease. He grips your hips as you begin to undulate above him. When his dick hits that sweet spot it’s all over for you.

Like an addict jones for a fix you make him graze it over and over again. It’s intense and hot as hell.

Poor Bucky almost drives off the road because he’s so turned on and keeps checking the rearview. He even cracks the steering wheel with his Vibranium hand.

Another orgasm is ripped from your body as you’re pulling up your driveway to the garage. Your spasming walls massage Steve’s girth, and he can’t help but pop his knot. He throws his head back as you continue to ride him until you collapse against his chest. Panting and locked together.

Steve kisses your forehead. “Hey little Omega, I know you’re feeling just as good as I am right now. But we have to get inside. Bucky is going to open the door and I need you to wrap those sexy legs around my waist for me. Can you do that, doll?”

You nod your head before burying it deeper in his neck. Being the amazing team that they are, having so much history together, it doesn’t take the Alpha’s much time at all to get you both out of the backseat.

Steve leads the way inside, with you wrapped tightly around his waist. The entire walk to the nest you’re a whiny needy mess. Begging to be filled with their pups. Telling them you don’t care about a wedding. That you just want to start your family already. 

Clearly your heat has been triggered. And with how intense the sex in the car was you may have triggered their ruts as well.

You make it to your nest just as Steve’s knot has deflated enough for him to pull out and place you down gently.  You immediately remove your dress and unclasp your bra. Letting it fall to the ground, before pulling Bucky forward and ridding him of the layers that are keeping you from his warm skin.

“Someone is very eager tonight? Is there something you wanna tell us, Omega?”

Instead of giving a verbal answer, you turn your back to them, kneel on all fours and present like a good little Omega.

“As good as you look presenting so pretty for me. I’m going to need to hear your words before we’re all lost to our hormones.” Bucky states. Always the stickler for consent. Something you very much love about him.

“Heat. My heat is here, and I need your knot Alpha mine.”

He grips the base of aching cock at your words. “And that’s exactly what you’re gonna get, Omega. Gonna keep our girl nice and full.” He lets his hind brain take over.

The haze setting in as he teases your cleft before thrusting to the hilt. Your pussy tightens around him immediately, setting off his need to breed you. To claim you from the inside out. To give you the pups you’ve been begging them for.

Everything else fades away as he goes to town on you while Steve recovers. Who takes the time, while his mind is till clear to make sure the room is set for your first heat/rut cycle in your new home.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come. Lost in the feeling of pleasure and being so full. With a roar resounding through the air, you feel Bucky’s knot pop deep inside you. Locking you in place as his teeth sink into your mating mark and he fills your womb with the seed you so desperately crave.

Laying on your sides, you play with the metal fingers on his Vibranium hand. Placing it against your chest to help cool you down. Steve, having stripped himself, makes his way into the nest to join in on the cuddle puddle.

Your nose wrinkles as he get’s closer. “As hot as you defending my honor is. I think it’s time for a shower and for you to burn those clothes. They faintly smell like Caleb and that’s just a lady boner killer.”

“Wasn’t such a problem when you were riding my knot in the car.” Steve quips back.

“Momentary heat induced insanity. I’ve cum, therefore the scent must go.”

“Only if you come wash my back. Make sure there’s no trace of him left.” He counters.

“What do I get out of it?”

“A white wolf between your legs getting his fill.” Bucky stage whispers in your ear.

You bite your lip at the image his words provide. “Deal.”

[nyctolovian]

sweetheart, you look a little tired

Summary: During a power outage at the observatory he works at, Martin finds a spirit trapped in a lantern, thus meeting Jon. The two find themselves developing a relationship together, and realising they'd stay with the other. No matter what.

Written for TMA Fantasy Week (Prompt: Lantern)

A/N: Hey uhhh warning! It’s a tragedy and there is major character death. So you have been warned. Title is from the lyrics of "two" by Sleeping at Last

There was a lantern in the observatory up the hill. It's hard to notice it, tucked into a corner of the storage room, but when you needed light, it'd be hard to miss. It was a glass lantern, framed with a brass that never seemed to lose its shine. Inside was a tall white candle, and, if you looked closely enough, its wick glowed ever-so-slightly, despite the lack of flame. 

As though it were trying to light itself.

***

There was a power outage again. You'd think an observatory filled with all these science-y people would have figured out a way to stop all these sudden blackouts but perhaps not. The observatory wasn't exactly as well-funded as it used to be so that might be the reason for this.

Still, Martin found himself in the worst place to be during a blackout, the storage room. The storage room wasn't terrible, per se, just difficult. It was littered with things, and when Martin had first arrived, it seemed as though the scientists at this place had been simply chucking things into the storage room carelessly for the past 50 years. To make things worse, being one of the few underground rooms, the storage would fall pitch black in a blackout. Then, here comes the worst part: there was no one else in the observatory. It was close to 11pm and Martin had been the last to leave. It'd take a while before the light came back, he supposed.

So, not wanting to trip and die in some dusty old storage, Martin bent to his knees and held his hands forward, to make sure he didn't bump into anything while feeling his way out. But that's when he noticed it, a faint glow. 

Sitting atop a shelf, was a lantern with a candle in it. For some reason, the wick was slightly glowing, giving off just enough light for it to bounce off its brass beams and allow the lantern to stand out in the pitch black.

Martin frowned and reached for it. As he pulled it towards himself to inspect it, he found that if he squinted hard enough, he could see a box of matches shifting about inside it. He fumbled with the lantern for a while before locating the latch. With the matches in the lantern, he lit the candle. Instantly, the storage room was permeated with the soft light of the flame and Martin could see again. 

Picking up the lantern again, he stood up to leave. With the better light, he could see the lantern better now. Its base was hexagonal and the metal beams at its corners rose to support a round roof. The roof was patterned intricately with roses, leaves and vines. The romantic in Martin couldn't help but twist it around to inspect and stare in awe. 

"Well, I suppose I have to thank you for this," a voice came from behind.

Squeaking, Martin spun around and saw a man standing right behind him. The lantern slipped from his fingers and the other man let out a noise of fear as he tried and failed to catch the lantern. Luckily, Martin saved it in the nick of time. 

"Jesus christ!" the other man hissed. "Don't drop the bloody thing!"

"I— S-Sorry. I j-just, well, you startled me," Martin said, hand over his heavily thumping heart. He inhaled deeply to bring back his customer service voice. "Sir, you're not supposed to be here by the way. This room has restricted access. Were you in the room this entire time? I didn't even notice you when I came in."

"I–" The other man cleared his throat. "Technically, yes, I was in the room the whole time. For about 30 years actually."

"What?"

"I live in this lantern, you see. Or rather, my spirit is trapped in it."

"What?!"

"You released my spirit when you lit the candle," the man went on, gesturing at the lantern, as though to prove a point. That was when Martin noticed it, however, the way the light from the lantern passed through the fingers of the other man. He was translucent. 

A ghost.

Martin felt faint.

***

The other man did not faint, but Jon had to support him as he sat heavily on a cardboard box and cradled his head. This time, the man gently placed the lantern on the floor before he could risk dropping it again. It made Jon feel slightly bad for startling him. 

But Jon was trying to thank him for god's sake. He was trying to be polite. There really was no need for this Victorian era fainting business. And he had nearly dropped the damn lantern too! Jon had no idea what would happen if the thing broke, but he was pretty sure it couldn't be good news for him.

In hindsight, perhaps Jon should have exercised some tact with the man. It could be quite unpleasant business, accidentally releasing a spirit. In his defense, however, it is quite impossible to go about this business pleasantly. 

So, as soon as the other man had calmed down enough, Jon thought it'd be best to establish that he was friendly. "The name is Jonathan Sims," he said, sticking a hand towards the other man. "But you can call me Jon. Nice to meet you."

The man gave him a nervous but gentle smile. "I'm Martin Blackwood. I, uh… am a staff at this observatory. Nice to meet you too!" He received Jon's hand firmly.

As Martin's hand enclosed around his, however, Jon couldn't help the jolt that ran up his arm. He had not had contact with a human being in his 30 odd years of being trapped in the lantern. The warmth and solidness of the other man was… shocking to say the least. But not unwelcome. He had to stop himself from melting into the handshake, like a pathetic wax candle.

Martin must have noticed that reaction because his voice grew concerned. "Are you— are you alright?"

"Just, um, just not used to the physicality of everything," Jon half-lied. He patted his shirt anxiously. 

"Right," Martin said, clearly not quite knowing how to respond. He stood up from the cardboard box with a soft grunt. "I-I hope you don't mind but I do need to use your lantern for a bit. To get out."

"Oh, sure thing. As long as you don't mind me tagging along."

Martin smiled politely. "Of course! It's your lantern after all."

The two of them successfully left the room, and entered a corridor. Martin walked down the long corridor without much fuss while Jon tried to open and peer through as many doors as he could without falling too far behind. Each of the rooms looked so interesting. 

Finally, they reached the entrance. Martin cleared his throat and turned to Jon. "Well, uh, goodbye then? Where should I leave you? Or do you want to come with me…?"

Immediately, Jon replied, "I'd like to stay here. In one of those rooms. I, well, I'd like to take a look around."

Martin blinked. "W- Sure," he said, nodding. He passed the lantern over to Jon, but Jon's fingers phased right through it. 

"Seems like… I can't interact with the lantern specifically," Jon muttered. He pursed his lips. "You can just… leave me…" He frowned.

Martin hummed thoughtfully. Then, he went, "Ah, I know just the thing. Let me just…" He reached behind the front desk and retrieved a battery-powered torchlight. He clicked it on and smiled to himself as it lit up. "Alright! We'll drop you off in an interesting room then!"

***

When Martin next returned to the room, neither Jon nor the lantern was there. He asked Winnie, the janitor, if she had moved it or something, but she said she didn't see any lantern anywhere, though she did note that there were a couple of files strewn across the floor for some reason. Frowning, Martin went to the storage room to take a look and, just as he had suspected, the lantern had returned to the shelf. 

He debated internally if he should light it up again, but he recalled Jon's wide-eyed look the previous night, the way he looked as though he wanted to experience everything. He took out a lighter from his pocket and lit the candle (which strangely had not shrunk an inch since yesterday). 

As he closed the latch of the lantern, he had expected some sort of dramatic entrance. Or a magical-looking one where a wisp of smoke would trickle out and form the man from yesterday perhaps. Instead, all he got was a disgruntled noise behind him.

"I was in the middle of reading something and the flame went out!"

"Morning, Jon. I was wondering where you were," Martin greeted, turning. In the fluorescent light, it was now even more obvious that Jon was not human at all. The light passed through him and he had a bluish tinge to his entire being. 

"The flame went out and the whole lantern simply returned to its original state and position. Can you believe the audacity of the thing? Being bound to this object is unbelievably frustrating." Then, he looked up at Martin. "Will you move the lantern back into that room?" he said, running his hand through his wavy graying locks. "I was still reading about Sirius and I really didn't appreciate being interrupted like this."

"Ah," Martin mumbled. "But… more staff will be entering and it'd be strange to see a ghost hanging around, right?"

Jon's eyebrows twitched with annoyance before he crossed his arms. "You're right."

Martin frowned sympathetically. He looked like an upset puppy, sulking in its dog bed, after its newest toy was ripped out of its muzzle. He had to admit, he was a slight bit weak to puppies like that so he smiled reassuringly at Jon and said, "How about this? I'll move your lantern back before I leave from work."

Jon's eyes practically sparkled with exuberance. "You'd do that?"

***

It became a routine. Martin would enter the observatory early, chat with Jon in storage, go to work, wait till he observatory cleared out, before bringing Jon out. Sometimes, they'd go back to the room Jon was in the previous night before he was rudely yanked back into the lantern and sent back to storage. Sometimes, they'd go to somewhere new, and there was a unique joy in seeing Jon get excited exploring it. He'd usually stick around for an hour longer, chatting with the ghost, before heading home.

Conversations with Jon were pleasant. He was always excited to share whatever new discovery he had made recently, be it a constellation he read about, the theories of black holes or catching a glimpse of Saturn on the observatory's telescope. 

There was a point about 3 days into this arrangement that Jon stopped mid-way through one of his rambling and looked up. There was a reddish tinge to his ears as he apologised for talking too much. 

"I don't mind," Martin replied. "I've worked here as a file clerk for so long and I've never had anyone explain all this stuff to me actually."

"Never?" the ghost mumbled, frowning. "But you're interested?"

It wasn't that Martin had ever had an overt interest in the cosmos. There was a job application, and he just submitted his job application (altering it slightly to suit their needs). But he supposed he was infected by Jon's enthusiasm and curiosity. 

So for an hour or so every night, Martin would sit there, listening to Jon.

***

"Did something happen?" Jon asked as soon as he was released from the lamp.

Martin's eyes looked tired. "Hm? No, it's nothing…" 

At least lie better, Jon thought huffily. Martin didn't drop by for three days. Which was incredibly odd considering this was also the man Jon had tried and failed to convince that there was no need to come back on weekends. This made it the first time in 4 months that Jon hadn't seen Martin.

But if he didn't want to elaborate, Jon wouldn't press the issue either. Instead, he tried to play things according to their usual routine. "I'd like to stargaze tonight," he announced. So he was brought to the outdoors. It was a clear night, and up on the hill, away from the bustling city below, the stars were bright. 

Jon had picked up a telescope on his way out and he began to set it up on the grassy plains behind the observatory. Meanwhile, Martin sat with his back against a tree, simply watching, as he fiddled with the hook ring on the lantern. As usual, Jon filled the silence between them with his usual rambling. 

"I am not expecting anything much today to be honest. But if I had chosen a day that had a supermoon or something, I'd assume there would be more people around and trying to catch it. I think it'd be fun to look at the moon. They say it's the easiest one to start with. And it'd feel more… like a self-made experience to set up a telescope ourselves," Jon said as he tried to align the telescope. He turned around and saw Martin, hunched over himself. "Martin," Jon called.

The other man's head shot up and he plastered on a smile. "Do you need help with anything?"

"Martin, I–" Jon shoved the telescope's cloth bag into the box. "Do you… want to talk to me about it? Whatever's bothering you."

Martin glanced at the ground, and plucked some grass. "I… My mum died."

Jon's eyes widened. "Oh. I-I'm sorry—"

"It's okay," Martin interrupted. "Or… maybe it isn't supposed to be but I… Does it make me a bad person to be relieved that she has?" He looked up, perhaps searching for a reaction from Jon. Jon wasn't sure what he found on his face but whatever Martin saw made him continue, "My mum… she had been ill for a while now and I guess it didn't come as a surprise when the nurses called. Still, to feel… relieved about it. I must be pretty screwed up." Martin ran a hand through his curly reddish locks and looked up at the sky.

Frankly, Jon knew very little about any of this. Loss, family, grief. He'd spent all his existence as a spirit in a lantern by himself. He sat down beside Martin. 

"I took care of her for most of my life. More than half of it mothering my own mother. It… I don't resent her, I don't think. It's just tiring. I worked quite a lot of jobs trying to support her. Stopped schooling early to find a job." Martin pressed his face into his palms. "God, it's like I'm blaming her! It's not her fault she's ill. I'm such a horrible son."

"You did your best."

Martin hummed noncommittally.

Jon's eyes flicked up and down. Then, he took a deep breath and stretched his arms out. "Come here."

Quizzically, Martin frowned, but he slowly eased into arm length anyway. Jon shuffled closer and pulled the other man into a bear hug. 

Sighing into the embrace, Martin mumbled, "I kind of get why she hates me."

Jon frowned at that but said nothing. Instead, he tightened the embrace and rubbed Martin's back gently.

***

The next time they went stargazing, Martin was in a far better mood and he even helped with setting up of the telescope. They ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the moon and its millions of craters for a while before settling on their back and just looked at the stars above with their naked eyes. They draped a black cloth over the lantern and plunged themselves into relative peaceful darkness. The wind blew and the trees and grass rustled gently around them.

It was well past an hour when Jon cleared his throat nervously and asked, "You're not going home?"

Martin shook his head. Just as Jon thought that this was the end, he began, "Frankly, I don't understand about 30% of the things you say. But, I don't know… It feels nice being talked to."

"Does it? I thought it'd be quite annoying," Jon said jokingly.

"Not annoying at all!" Martin quickly said.

Jon blinked at the force with which he said this. 

Eyes fixed upon the sky, Martin pursed his lips. "You know, I never really had someone who would talk to me. Even with my mum, it's usually me telling her something and her just glaring at the corner of the room. If she even wants to see me when I visit. Don't really get along with my coworkers here. Most of them are busy with their science-y astronomy stuff to bother with the file clerk."

Jon looked up at Martin. He supposed he understood that sentiment. Loneliness, that is.

Turning around, Martin smiled. "Gosh, don't look at me like that. What I'm trying to say is I like being with you."

"Oh." Jon felt his face warmed slightly, which was odd. 

Everything was odd ever since Martin came around. A spirit shouldn't be warming up all over the place like a little heating pad. And they shouldn't be feeling their undead hearts fluttering like little moths around a lightbulb whenever they hear the storage door click open either. 

***

Martin had a boyfriend. 

Said boyfriend also kicked him out of the observatory when he suggested staying overnight. "I'm not allowing you to deprive yourself of sleep, Martin Blackwood! You've been sticking around here far too often!" he scolded as he pushed Martin through the door. 

As he lay on his bed, arms folded over his stomach, Martin regretted not arguing that he wouldn't be getting much sleep even if he went home tonight. He'd be too busy thinking about his boyfriend.

It would make Jon sputter and his cheeks darken, just like the moment when they both confirmed that, yes, they both had feelings for each other and, yes, maybe they could try this dating thing. After establishing their new relationship, they had sat together in the storage room, holding hands, and leaning against each other. Martin would occasionally catch Jon glimpsing up at him with awestruck eyes before smiling sweetly to himself.

Martin buried his face into his pillow. He was already missing Jon.

***

"There's a meteor shower tonight," Martin said. "Do you want to watch it outside?"

Jon looked up with a slight frown. "But… But there will be people, right? Watching it too. Isn't it better if we stay here?"

Martin shook his head. "No, there won't be anyone," he replied. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am."

The firmness of that reply unsettled Jon. "Wh- Okay… I'll just, um, grab the telescope."

Jon could sense something was coming, but he couldn't tell what. Martin's face was tense, stiff with an unspoken worry. Jon wanted to prod, but he could tell that whatever it was, Martin was planning to say it outside. Still, his stomach was doing flops as he set up the telescope and lay on the grass, waiting. However, the news was much worse than he could imagine.

"The observatory is closing down."

Jon dropped the telescope cover and dived down to catch it before it rolled out of sight. "Wh-What?"

"The town council thought it was a waste of money so they're closing it down. There aren't any plans of tearing down the building I think. It's quite a useless plot of land since it's so far away from everything else," Martin said. "But it's closing. In about a month."

Jon fidgeted with the cover, twisting it in his hands. His heart was beating like a rabbit's. "Then, what does that… what's it mean for…"

"I don't know. I-I'll try to figure something out. But I won't leave you alone. You're not going to be on your own again," Martin said firmly. He took Jon's hand in his and squeezed it. 

Jon squeezed back and then in front of Martin, who wrapped arms around him so that Jon's back was resting against his chest. It was warm, and Jon could feel the rapid thumping of Martin's heart against his back. 

Gently, Jon lifted Martin's hand and kissed the inside of his wrist. 

***

They tried many things. Putting multiple candles. Lighting the lantern as quickly as they could. Putting an electric bulb inside the lantern instead.

But Jon and his lantern were whisked back into the storage room each time the flame of the original candle snuffed out. 

That pretty much ruled out any possibility of Martin just bringing Jon home. 

Martin was looking ragged by the end of the month, but exhaustion did not beat him up as much as the look of frightened resignation upon Jon's face as the day of the observatory's closure inched towards them.

It was during the last week that Martin moved his bed into the storage room. "I… I'm not sure what else to do," he admitted.

Jon looked so guilty, eyebrows knitted and lips trembling with protest. He tried to tell Martin that it was okay. Martin shouldn't stay here. It was ridiculous. What about his house? What about electricity? What about water? He should take care of himself.

But Martin's made up his mind. It was too cruel to leave Jon alone again. And Martin understood how alone he had been better than anyone else. 

Miraculously, it wasn't so bad in the end. Sure, it was a slight pain in the ass, living in an abandoned observatory. There were many new arrangements they had to make, but it was not bad, all things considered. Winters were arguably the worst, but they could live.

The observatory recommended Martin to another job, and it was near the observatory, so that worked out well. It was slightly tiring, climbing up the hill everyday after work, but it was heartwarming when he could light up the lantern in the storage room, and Jon would trickle into existence, smiling fondly.

Even after many years, nobody really wanted to touch the old observatory. It was built on an inconvenient piece of land, and there was frankly little value in investing in it. Nobody bothered climbing up the hill for the abandoned building either.

So for many years, just like that, Martin and Jon had lived together in the old observatory. 

***

Humans died eventually. Jon knew that.

In Martin's older years, Jon had an inkling that it was ending. Every night might be the last. He had grown so used to the routines they had built by now that he sometimes forgets that it was odd how Martin grew grey and wrinkly, while he remained the same. 

Stuck in space and time, he supposed. 

Every night, as they curled around each other, Jon would cup a hand over Martin's face and trace the wrinkles on his forehead. Martin would huff and press his lips against Jon's forehead. "Not everyone can remain young like you, Jon," he teased.

"I only look young," Jon scoffed. "I'm older than you, alright?" Then, he'd press closer to Martin. 

Martin was less warm than he was in the past. As though the older one got, the more of life's warmth seemed to seep out of one's body.

The last day Jon's lantern was lit, Martin had been especially warm while they lay in bed together. Martin rubbed circles into Jon's cold palms and then kissed his neck, his jaw, and then his eyes. "Good night," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"Good night," Jon whispered back as usual.

***

There was a lantern in the old abandoned observatory up the hill. It's easy to notice it, placed in the middle of the table in the old storage room. It was a glass lantern, framed with a brass that never seemed to lose its shine. Inside was a tall white candle, and, if you tried to light it, it would simply snuff out, even though there wasn’t a single draft in the room.

As though it fervently refused to be lit.

[strikearose]

Uncovering Passione's Underside (1/1) GIOMIS

What one can learn by listening to what the secretive Passione's staff have to say about their Don... One-shot, GioMis, Post-canon, Humor, G+ You can also read it on ao3 here!

For as long as many Passione members could recall, Agnese Bianchi had always been there, grumbling as she would mop the hall floor and nagging at fellow cleaning employees and ruthless gang members all alike. It didn't matter how long their felonious resumes were, she simply couldn't stand slackers. Years of working within that specific industry had forged her strong character - she was honest, hardworking, and probably a tad too outspoken too about her aversion for mobsters, but she still knew better than to ask silly questions like some other people did.

The housekeeper glared at the man who'd been chatting up the new cleaner (and therefore, preventing her from mopping up the floor as she had explicitly urged her to) for the last half hour. His name was Trado, Trattore, or something that sounded way too much like Tradittore anyway: he was one of the Don's many henchmen. Ever since he had started working there, he had taken that annoying habit of snooping everywhere, making idle chitchat with the household staff during rush hour.

The old maid cleared her throat, grabbed her cleaning cart handles, and pushed it unceremoniously between the pair. "Is that what you call cleaning the reception room? Signore Giovanna wants it sparkling clean: go fix it now or apply for another job already!"

Her harsh tone worked just fine: the young employee, caught red-handed slacking work, gasped in surprise and mumbled a brief apology before leaving in a hurry. The man, however, didn't seem the least concerned about her admonition. He simply smiled and raised his hands in self-defense - and lord if there was a way he could possibly piss her off even more.

Agnese chose to simply disregard his presence and rummaged through her pockets to find the key she needed.

Click.

As it opened, she began to push her cleaning cart over the door sill with some difficulty.

"Need some help?"

Agnese sighed when she realized he was still there. Who the hell was he taking her for?

"I don't. As always, I'm doing just fine on my own."

To her dismay, it seemed that her sharp answer didn't manage to get rid of the gangster. For God's sake, couldn't he just go bother someone else, literally anyone but her? There was nothing Agnese hated more than to have someone watch her every move.

...

Or perhaps slackers.

Slackers who intended on watching her every move.

"So, for how long have you been working there? They say you'll bury us all..."

Agnese rolled her eyes as she finally managed to get her cart through the doorway.

"Long enough to have seen my fair share of slackers come and go..." The cleaning lady truly wished he'd get the memo this time. She had seen it all: louts in suits with fake good manners and scarred faces, but also men that seemed to be way too nice and curious for their own good. To her, that last species was the worst: they were wolves in sheep's clothing.

But of course, Trado (or Trattore or whatever was his name) didn't appreciate the subtlety of her response, and he continued his questioning: "You've been there long enough to have known the former boss, right? The one before Don Giovanna, a real freak apparently... "

Agnese tensed at that: she didn't like where the conversation was heading. She was unfortunately all too familiar with those office gossips. A little over five years ago now, Passione had gone from having no official face, to Giorno Giovanna's gracing every streets' corners. Rumors had it that the young, brilliant, man had brutally murdered the Original Don in the span of a week. Others thought that Giovanna's was his son and that the boss had simply granted himself a well-deserved retirement.

She couldn't care less about what had truly happened: Don Giovanna gave her a monthly salary as well as direct, concrete instructions. And those were the two things that mattered to her. He was good at that, giving clear orders to the people to his service. And it was nicer to serve him than to obey blindly the weird requests she'd receive by mail like before.

"Don't you really have anywhere else to go?", the cleaning lady suddenly turned to the man she had heard approaching but was relieved to see that he had not dared to enter the Don's office. He was looking at her, peering at what she was doing, from the door's threshold. "If you want a piece of advice, stop being so damn noisy."

The gangster laughed and at that, Agnese wished she could just sweep him out of the room.

"Relax! I'm new here, I'm just curious. Don Giovanna's pretty nice, he won't murder us over some harmless chitchat."

The Boss of a criminal organization, a nice man?

It was Agnese's turn to snort.

Yeah, she guessed it was the kind of public image he was adamantly working on And some people seemed to believe it: newspapers were reporting less traffic, a decline in thugs harming citizens' and tourists' safety. The astounding sums of money he was giving to local shelters, hospitals, and public schools were also common knowledge: rumors had it that the city council was even thinking of naming the brand-new biological museum, founded thanks to his many donations, after him.

As a boss, Agnese considered him to be pretty decent  - well, as decent as being the Don of a criminal organization could possibly allow him to be considered. After all, he was well-educated enough not to leave clothes and magazines scattered everywhere like the previous boss and some of his most favored underlings did.

But as a man, there was no way she could possibly tell if he was nice. Agnese was just an old, tired cleaning lady: she never pried into the Don's private life even though she guessed there were things that couldn't escape her lack of malicious curiosity. Details such as notes and silly doodles scribbled on his desk, scraps of paper (of extremely dubious content) discarded in the garbage can she needed to empty or sweaters which were at least two sizes too big for him lying on the normally spotless ground of his room...

Sighing, the old maid was about to close the door behind her when she noticed it: the stupid smirk on the gangster's face. The stupid knowing smirk they always had whenever they would bring up the one topic she had no desire to discuss.

How she wished she could just spray him with a window cleaner to wipe it out of his face.

"You know people say 'bout them, right? I'm sure it's complete bullshit but..."

The answer Agnese gave him was the same she would lecture her own underlings with: "One thing I know for sure is that the Underboss always carries his gun on him... And the Don sure doesn't need one to silence people. So just drop it and mind your own business."

With a last sigh, she finally shut the door closed and started her heavy work. However, even though the noisy snoop had left, Agnese felt her mind drift to her first encounter with the Don as she was dusting the ancient bookcase.

It had happened about four years ago, on a late December afternoon - was it because she had arrived too early or because he had stayed in his office later than usual, but the door had been left open so she had loudly pushed her cart inside. The old cleaning lady had instantly understood her mistake - after all, there was little mystery about whom that man was... Who else would dare to enter the big boss's office in his absence?

Golden locks, emerald eyes looking right at her with mild surprise: he obviously had not been expecting her.

"Oh, it's already that time of the day," his chin tilted high and proud, the mafia boss had flatly made that statement.

Not knowing what to say, Agnese had simply nodded and taken a discreet look at the massive clock behind him. 8:17 pm. He was definitely the one behind schedule, not her: she was just on time.

Not that she could say it aloud anyway.

"I didn't know you were still in there, Signore Giovanna," while her head was slightly bowed as a sign of respect, she had not apologized for her intrusion. She had nothing to apologize for: boss or not, he was the one messing with the established schedule. "I'll come back to clean your office later."

Don Giovanna had however soon dismissed her concern with a motion of his hand.

"It's fine, you can start working now. I was about to leave anyway."

The old housemaid nodded and was about to approach the bookcase when she had stopped right on her track, seeing the state of the ancient Victorian carpet. The boss had a rather keen hearing as he almost instantly turned his attention away from his papers to peer at Agnese, understanding what the problem was right away.

The blood hadn't just spattered on the carpet - there were traces of it on the sofa. And on the cushions. As well as on the desk's marble border.

And of course, the Don had to insist on furnishing his office with pristine white furnitures  - even the smallest stain could be spotted from miles away.

Well, at least to look at the bright sight, Agnese realized that she wasn't the one who had to take care of the body, to each, his own mess: scrubbing out the carpet was already going to be a real nightmare.

"I apologize for that," the voice of her employer was surprisingly gentle, and it had taken her off guard. "I'll make sure the floor is covered properly next time."

As unbelievable as it might sound, the Don had kept true to his word: she hadn't been able to find a single drop of blood in his office ever since.

And she had even gotten a raise in the following week.

**

Rumors had it that Don Giovanna was capable of prodigious deeds that a rational mind could not possibly explain: that dazzling smile of his could enchant things and bend them to his will. Some prominent figures from all parts of the world, whose identities shall remain hidden, had apparently come out of his office miraculously cured. But rumors also had it that the reason why his public appearances were becoming more and more scarce was because of a growing sensitivity to daylight.

So Agnese paid very little to no regard to them. Most of the time, like Tradutti had stated, it was indeed complete bullshit.

However, later that night, as she undid her bandages to observe the state of the burn on a forearm (a stupid domestic accident involving a boiling teapot), Agnese was amazed to find her epidermis completely smooth. There was no more blistering or dead skin: her forearm was of a softness that contrasted with the rest of her body:the astronomical amount of tiger balm and aloe vera used could not possibly explain that. So as much of a skeptic as she was, the cleaning lady was forced to admit that it had to be somehow related to her earlier encounter with the Don.

As soon as she had stepped outside his office after tidying it, she had spotted the mafia boss in the hallway. He was accompanied by five or six men dressed in equally expensive suits. Among them was a face quite familiar to her: the city mayor who was making it to the news because of yet another corruption scandal.

The last thing she needed was to get involved in this ugly mess, so the cleaning lady kept her head high and bravely pushed her cart forwards. What she wasn't expecting however was for the Don to stop her.

"Did you injure yourself?"

She had had no choice but to peer down too at her bandage and lie through her teeth: "It's nothing, Signore."

His face showed no emotion, but he took a step towards her and delicately grabbed the injured arm before she could protest. His grip was somehow gentle but tight: there was no way she could escape from it. It was a literal iron fist in a velvet glove.

Agnese could still recall feeling the gazes of the Mayor and his bodyguards on her, they had also stopped walking to stare at her. Her heart rate had momentarily quickened when the Don's hands had brushed over her wound, his emerald eyes never leaving her confused expression. A sharp pain had set her wrist on fire... And then nothing.

She no longer felt a thing - it was as if it had never happened: Don Giovanna had taken a step back and addressed his subordinates, and they all had resumed their walk, any concern about the poor old maid definitely forgotten. The only one who had graced her with something (a strangely amused smile) before leaving was Guido Mista.

The Underboss truly was something. He often reminded Agnese of her own son: way too careless and untidy. His room was a literal nightmare to clean: most of his cashmere sweaters (which he had no problem leaving on the floor for all that mattered) needed to be hand-washed, and he also had the specificity of returning several times a month completely riddled with bullets.

The fact that he was somehow still alive despite his many injuries was as much a real blessing to him that it was a curse for her.

After all, Agnese was the one who had to clean up after him: and there was nothing easier than to track him because with Underboss Mista came blood everywhere.

Everywhere.

From the pavement outside to the sheets of a certain person whose name shall remain unknown.

...

The kitchen timer rang and Agnese was brought back to reality.

She couldn't say for sure if the Don was responsible for this miracle, but she still wished he could have also helped with her rheumatism too.

━━━━━ ༻🌱༺ ━━━━━

Unlike Agnese, Rolfo Giardino was still fairly new at that whole managing-not-to-get-mixed-up-in-mafia-mess-while-working-for-them dilemma. This gardener may have had twenty years of experience, nothing could have possibly prepared him for what was about to come.

The headquarters' gardens themselves were very pleasant - they were spacious and ideally located. Starting from scratch, that is to say from an austere backyard where some pathetic trees were beginning to wither to this authentic example of Giardino all'italiana, adorned with classical sculptures, flowering shrubs, fountains and ornamental parterres, had not been easy at first but Signore Giovanna had agreed to pay the price without thinking twice and the result was worth it.

Now that it was done, now that Rolfo and his team only had to maintain the garden (meaning watering the flowers and cutting the hedges one or two times a week), he guessed the job would be pretty nice if it weren't for all those mobsters who, for some reason he still couldn't gather, enjoyed watching him work. That, as well as those dreadful echoes of gunfire and screams which would shatter from time to time the peaceful atmosphere of the garden.

The rustling of water, the birds' chirping, a loud explosion from within the building... A nice sunny day overall.

Some of his employees were still refusing to work there despite his best attempts to reassure them: for as long as they would stay away from the actual building, it was not like something could happen to them, right? Still, they were places where even Rolfo himself did not like to approach, near the window overlooking what he thought was the Big Boss's office for instance. He had been forced to come close (way too close) to it because of his client's special request to have ivy and white roses gambling along this wall.

He had started working on it on a day when the weather was so mild that the window had apparently been cracked open for once - and the uncanny noises and groans that had escaped through it had scared the gardener to death. He hadn't dared to peer inside to find out what was really happening: the last thing he needed to know was what the Don of Passione's private torture sessions consisted of. Ever since that unfortunate incident, Rolfo had not ventured any closer to the damn white rosebushes. The branches were becoming too long, they were clearly starting to block the path of light, but as long as the Don didn't make any complaint, Rolfo would leave them be.

But on that day, however, the poor gardener saw red as his eyes fell on the figure loitering near that damn window: who was that son of a bitch was stepping on his flower beds!

"Hey you fucking moron: Move! Can't you see you're ruinin' my work?" Rolfo's shout managed to hit the bull's eye. The criminal was startled by it and half a dozen of armed men (probably criminals too) suddenly burst out the building to see what the hell was happening. He sprinted in the direction of the jerk and threw his pair of pruning shears at him. The gardening tool narrowly missed him - it crashed against the window instead (which, thank lord, did not shatter after the impact), but still made him leave. The stern face of Giorno Giovanna soon appeared, his head comically peaking out the building.

The Big Boss frowned when he realized that five of his men were gathered outside, frantically looking for someone, and took a deep breath: "Did one of you just threw a rock at my window?" He sounded confused, and to his credit, that was quite understandable.

Rolfo felt all adrenaline leave him abruptly - he could feel on him the murderous glares of literal murderers, who would have probably murdered him on the spot were it not for the presence of their Big Boss. He had no choice but to come clean: "Uhh, I do believe it was my pruners, Signore. I apologize, I swear they weren't aimed at you. It was for that damn...- uhh, I mean, that employee of yours!"

The Don didn't seem the slightest taken aback by the choice of weapon. He ran a hand through his braided locked and motioned for the others to go.

"You're saying that someone was eavesdropping on me just now?"

Rolfo looked down for a moment before answering: "Uhh, probably? I mean, he was stomping on my rosebushes near your window, that's for sure. They're Blanche Moreau's you know? They took weeks to arrive from France, weeks to finally blossom in Italy's sunlight!"

The mafia boss frowned at that, and Rolfo just knew he understood how valuable these roses were. After all, the Don seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about plants and lots of stuff: rumors had it that they were going to name that new museum after him so...

Signore Giovanna looked behind him and seemed to be addressing someone in the room: "Make sure to find him."

Curiosity overcame his initial reserve: standing on tiptoe, the gardener finally peered at the window to see what was happening inside. The office seemed incredibly spacious and clean: a dark-haired man, behind the desk, was adjusting the position of his cap on his head.

"Kay, I'll climb down the window to catch him faster! The fucker must be hiding somewhere close!," as soon as the man finished speaking, Rolfo couldn't help but react straight away.

"No, you can't do that! You'll ruin the other bushes!"

Both mafiosi looked at him for a moment and the old gardener realized he might have spoken out of turn, but the Don settled the matter for them anyway:

"He's right, I do like these Blanche Moreau's: go around my office Mista. And please, your zipper." That last part had been uttered quietly, but Rolfo had still managed to pick up on it. His devout Catholic mind would probably have been offended by it were it not for the sudden realization which left him quivering.

How on earth was he able to peak so clearly at the window now...?

"That fucking son of a bitch!", at that the mafia boss frowned and looked at him quizzically, but Rolfo couldn't halt the stream of profanities coming out of his mouth. It was too late. "He chopped it off! The whole branch!! It's all gone!"

**

Rolfo had promised his wife he would never get too close to the mafia, even though those paychecks sure were quite weighty. And yet as he was now, comfortably sitting in a well-made leather seat, a cup of coffee in his hand, he thought that for a first time within the shady building he had tried to avoid entering for so long, things were actually looking pretty normal. A week had passed since the unfortunate roses incident, and he had been surprised to receive after a subsequent sick leave a call from the Don's office. He didn't really have much choice, so he had shown up on time and was now patiently waiting in the lobby.

"Don Giovanna will now receive you."

Rolfo followed without a word the pretty secretary - she too looked way too customarily pretty to be involved in that kind of business. It was only when he passed under the massive arch of the door that he became fully aware of what was happening: the head of the Italian mafia had summoned him here.

As expected, it was the Don's spacious office, the one he had managed to catch a glimpse of through the window free of rose branches. The room appeared to be spotlessly clean - hell, it even smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and fresh lemon. Definitely not what he was expecting it to look like. Oddly enough, the very first thing he noticed was the tarp on the floor: that gaudy blue plastic was seriously clashing with the rest of the pristine white furnishings.

"Good afternoon, Signore Giardino. Is that the man you spotted by my window the other day?," Rolfo met the gaze of the mafia boss who was calmly standing to what soon turned out to be a man in bad shape, feet and fists bound onto the chair.

On the other side of the suspect, nonchalantly propped against the desk, was the gangster who had wanted to hop out the window.

All three of them were looking at the gardener expectantly, and he heard behind him the sound of the door closing. Of course, the pretty secretary couldn't stay.

"I can't say for sure Signore. See, I was so focused on the combat boots trampling my bushes that I didn't pay too much attention to his face..."

He hated the bastard who had wrecked his work, sure, but to rush him to such a tragic fate...

"Cool, then check it out!," the underboss had spoken with a casualness contrasting with the cruelty of the angle in which he twisted the poor man's leg. Rolfo had no choice but to look at the sole of his boot.

...

The fucking bastard.

There were still manure and rose petals stuck to it. And those were no common rose petals - they were large, fluffy and creamy white. They had been violently snatched away from a Blanche Moreau's sepal.

The gardener hardly needed to speak up to convince the mafia boss - the lethal look he was giving the tied-up man was already enough evidence.

Umberto Tradduto's fate had just been sealed.

Rolfo couldn't say what prompted him to look outside, but after that he only overheard bits of the conversation whispered in front of him: what was he was seeing right now was far more chocking anyway:

"I leave it to you for now Mista. I'll dispose of him later."

"Another donation to the museum?"

"Not this time. I think he'll make a fine aphid instead, that way our gardener will be able to settle his score with him."

Rolfo wasn't even pretending to be listening to what was being said anymore. He couldn't believe his eyes. He took a step towards the window and the two mafiosi, deep in their discussion, didn't notice it immediately.

"Keep your evening free, we'll be paying a visit to the mayor tonight. I'm getting tired of the spies he keeps sending here."

"Tonight? Hey, do you know how much it cost me to book the entire restaurant?"

The Don cleared his throat as if suddenly reminded of the other two's presence: "The sooner the better. I'm sure she won't mind. You'll reschedule your date later."

Mista was about to protest, but he fell silent as he realized where the gardener was standing: "Hey man, what the...-"

But Rolfo overstepped his role again to cut him off. His eyes shining with emotion, he turned towards the mighty Giorno Giovanna and addressed him as if he was a true deity.

"How...- How did you...? This is prodigious Signore!"

Behind him, blocking the light from the window, were proudly standing three beautiful unscathed roses branches.

━━━━━ ༻ 🚗 ༺ ━━━━━

Alfredo waked up completely startled as he heard someone bang on his window: dozing off at the wheel was a rookie mistake, he was well aware of that - but still.

"Hey open up!"

The underboss' voice was agitated - something very rare for such an easy-going man, so Alfredo immediately unlocked the doors and got out of the vehicle to assist him. Mista was backing up the big boss, a hand wrapped under his shoulders to help him stand.

The driver shot a panicked look at the small cottage they had just come from: what the hell had just happened in there?

Alfredo glanced at the Don's patent leather shoes - he was dressed as reverently as usual - and then at the underboss' worn-out leather jacket: even though they were clothed as if they were going to very different events, they had asked him to drop them at the same address: the mayor's private country hous. He had followed the itinerary scribbled on the paper an informer had given him a few hours before. It was the driver's special talent: being resourceful. Even without a precise address, he always knew how to bring his customers to the desired place.

His clients never asked him how it worked, and in return, he never made any remark on the state they would return to the car in. Or to question why they seemed so keen to surprise the mayor at such a late hour of the evening.

Alfredo was even willing to give an extra hand if needed, occasionally overstepping his role of a simple driver if the client was likely to be a good tipper.

He opened the passenger door for the mafia boss, but to his great surprise the latter stopped him right there:

"I'm fine. Just open the trunk instead."

Alfredo tensed up but said nothing as he went back to his seat to retrieve his leather gloves.

It was another kind of extra service: helping them to get rid of incriminating clues. Well, it wouldn't be the first body dumped in the back of his precious vehicle, and certainly not the last. As long as they would pay for the subsequential cleanup, he didn't mind.

"How many bottles have you stolen?," The underboss had ushered that question to the boss not discreetly enough, and the driver allowed himself a relieved sigh.

No bodies on the horizon, then?

No scandal of the mayor's disappearance making the headlines on the next day?

Great, he'd be able to go back to bed sooner.

As he passed next to the two mafiosi to open the trunk, Alfredo noticed the two bottles of prestigious champagne that the Don was clutching tightly against his. chest. Oh wow. The underboss, on the other hand, was eyeing Giorno with a bewildered look, as if it had just occurred to him that the mysterious gigantic box he had been forced to carry from the cottage contained more bottles.

"Guido please, go fetch me a last one," the Don was less assertive than usual - you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Alfredo awkwardly stood next to them in silence as he waited for his next instructions. Charcoal and emerald eyes were engaged in a long, fierce battle of dominance, neither of them breaking contact. Hell, it even seemed to Alfredo at some point that the Don fluttered his lashes - but that could also be exhaustion talking.

Years of working within that specific industry had taught Alfredo how they would inevitably settle that growing tension between them.

Once again, for as long as they would pay for the subsequential seats cleaning, he didn't care. It wouldn't be the first indecent make-out session to happen at the back of his precious vehicle, and probably not the last.

A partition wall was always between Alfredo and his clients. Until now, he had never managed to catch them red-handed, but he had heard of those rumors. And he, better than anyone else certainly, knew for a fact that the Don had never sought to have good company brought to him. He'd always travel to his secondary residence alone while the underboss was the kind of man who preferred to drive there by himself.

Apart from the occasional names slips, he had never witnessed any tender gesture, he had never overheard anything remotely ambiguous. The details that had tipped him off were more subtle, or well usually at least they were. They would simply sit a little too close to one another, with no free seat between them - the pair was never five feet apart so that to speak. But right now, unless he would turn off the parking lights, there was no way Alfredo could pretend he wasn't seeing the Don's right hand slowly lowering far too low along the other's back. It was clearly no longer a question of keeping his balance.

"Fine," the Don let out a dramatic sigh and the driver nearly said hallelujah - now that he had admitted defeat, they would be able to leave at last! "If you won't do it, then fine I'll ask our driver instead."

Holy shit, what the hell was going on that night?

Alfredo quietly took a step back to exit the scene but it was too late - both mafiosi were already looking at him. If they were seriously intending on making him break into the mayor's house, he sure hoped they were ready to give a real good tip.

Fortunately, the underboss shook his head and rolled his eyes (had they just swapped personalities?), before reluctantly talking: "'kay you win I'll go. But then, we're outta here." Mista put the box inside the trunk and headed back to the cottage, leaving the driver in the company of the big boss who didn't seem quite inclined to enter the car yet. So Alfredo had no choice but to stay with him outside, on the chilly night and very awkward silence.

It was only after the third hiccup of the Don that the realization came down to him: he wasn't injured by any means, he was just completely drunk.

"Umm," Alfredo knew he wasn't supposed to question his boss, but the silence between them was becoming seriously uncomfortable. "So were you celebrating something Signore?"

The mafia boss looked at him for a long moment - god, the poor driver sure hoped he hadn't made a mistake, before shrugging: "Not really. I simply like Champagne, especially when I'm not the one paying for it."

Who could have thought that someone who spent so much on luxury clothes could be stingy?

Alfredo decided to politely answer. "Yes, I've heard you own several vineyards in Europe Signore. It's clever, I'm sure you never run out it..."

At that, the mighty Giorno Giovanna ungraciously hiccuped again, and the driver had the decency to pretend not to notice it.

"Mhhh.. You don't get it," had the mafia boss just snorted in contempt? "It's not so much about the Champagne itself as it is about the pure satisfaction of having taken possession of it... The mere contentment in knowing that the stupid mayor will never be able to savor it now that it's mine, you know?"

No, of course, not. There was no way Alfredo could possibly relate to that: it must be one of those crazy rich people whims.

Not that he could say it out loud, of course. The night was getting colder and colder, so he hoped the underboss wouldn't take long to be back.

"Would you like a bottle?," the Don's question took him by surprise so the driver, out of reflex, shook his head.

"Good, or you would have had to convince Mista to go back."

The stingy rich bastard.

Alfredo couldn't believe he was thinking that of him, in any other situation he would never have allowed himself to think that of Giorno Giovanna, but there were at least eight bottles in the trunk, he had seen them. And the Don knew that.

Fortunately, the underboss chose that exact moment to reappear and slam the trunk door shut after charging it with two other bottles.

Discreet much?

But whatever, the Don seemed rather pleased with that and finally agreed to go inside the car - his customers' satisfaction was what mattered the most to Alfredo.

After all, with good service came good tippers.

And that night, in exchange for the obvious promise to keep his mouth shut about what he had witnessed, the underboss sure went overboard with the tip.

━━━━━ ༻ 🧹 ༺ ━━━━━

It was now 8:20 a.m.: even though the day had started way earlier for Agnese, she had had to wait for the mobsters living upstairs to rise and shine, so she could proceed to clean their rooms. It was by far the task she hated the most: grabbing her heavy cleaning cart, she pushed it towards what had to be the cleanest place of them all. The Don's private quarters, starting with his excessively large bathroom: since the fancy tiles there took the longest to dry, she would then continue with his connected bedroom.

However, as soon as she stepped foot inside, Agnese almost fainted at the horrible sight that met her eyes.

Clothes, confetti and popped balloons were scattered everywhere, pieces of glass were covering the soaked floor, and an astronomical amount of what furiously smelled like Champagne had been dumped into the bathtub, splattering the walls and the carpet- hell, it even seemed like some of it was still fizzing inside.

Up until now, she had thought that she had seen it all, that nothing that the most wicked mind was capable of, could possibly surprise her. But that was a whole new level of a mess.

Thankfully, the inscription on a balloon (the survivor, the only one that had not exploded yet) was what prompted her not to hand the culprit her immediate resignation letter.

The Don's birthday would only happen once a year.

And with some sheer luck, she'd be able to negotiate her well-deserved retirement before the next one.

**

That morning, Guido woke up because of a cuss word that reminded him very much of his native Italian countryside. He had no idea what time it was:  Giorno's expensive alarm clock having been inadvertently smashed the night before. He yawned gleefully and stretched out his arms before turning to face the lumpy shape beside him.

The mighty Giorno Giovanna, drool on his chin, was muffled in his blanket, and it didn't seem from the look of it that he'd be getting up any time soon.

He was probably dealing with a hell of a hangover right now - served him right for the astronomical quantity of Champagne in which he had literally bathed and drowned. Giorno would decidedly never learn from his past mistakes. Well, he was very much looking forward to taunting his lover for years about that unfortunate late birthday episode.

There was no way the mafia boss would be able to conduct his meetings of the day - changing the planning wasn't something to worry about even though it would piss the hell out of Fugo for sure. Feeling compassionate about what was awaiting Giorno, he gently patted what he thought was his head (?) and smiled as he heard him grumble in return. How cute.

Guido finally stood up to start his day, he would smuggle him some Ibuproben later but first thing first, his much-awaited morning tinkle. And a long hot shower. Yeah, that way he would perhaps find a ploy to avoid dealing with Giorno's responsibilities instead of him. While he was not hungover, the late night's events had completely drained him of his energy.

Giorno's bathroom truly was something: it was way more spacious and tidier than his own. To him, it was a literal spa: cool extra-powerful water jets, a gigantic glass shower cabin AND a massive marble bathtub, a myriad of bottles of heavenly-smelling shampoo, conditioners, shower gels and body lotions everywhere - hell, there was even a housekeeper politely handing him a towel.

...

Holy shit.

Trying his best to cover his naked glory, Guido Mista could only stutter pitifully:

"Uhh.. Yeah, so about that new raise of yours we were discussin' the other day..."

This would only be the fourth time of the year, so at this point...

[theradioghost]

some recs for my podcast mutuals who are burnt out on horror & sad plot stuff

aka I’ve been seeing a few flavors of people exhausted by several of the most popular podcasts around here being pretty dark right now & I have attempted to put together a tasting menu of some stuff I think might help alleviate that burnout (& which also deserves some more love)

1. I'm okay with stuff that’s still on the dark or macabre side, I'd just like something that isn’t 100% characters I care about suffering horribly all the time, maybe some laughs in there

The Beef and Dairy Network: Like a seriously disturbing body horror podcast, except British satirical comedy! About cows! You kind of have to listen to it to get what’s going on tbqh it’s nearly impossible to explain but if you like horror and are just tired of being depressed about it maybe try this one. NOT for the easily nauseated.

Wooden Overcoats: black comedy sitcom about two rival funeral homes on a small island, one run by The Most Perfect Man On Earth (tm) and the other run by two misanthropic twins with a knack for disaster (and their hypercompetent assistant (and a mouse who wants to be an author)). this one is about watching the protagonist suffer horribly all the time but like, this time it’s usually a lot funnier and honestly he deserves it

Death by Dying: (so far very short) dark comedy about the resident obituary writer of idyllic Crestfall, Idaho, who sets out to tell the stories of how the town’s residents died and ends up uncovering a lot of other things, like conspiracies, and man-eating cats, and a poet’s vanishing childhood home, and what his friend the Angel of Death isn’t telling him about what’s in the dark woods. has very strong ASOUE or Pushing Daisies vibes, that sort of dark whimsy and really distinct narrative voice

Arden: “true crime” comedy-ish mystery podcast feat. two of the best bickering hosts anywhere and a whole third host called homoerotic tension, trying to solve a decade-old Hollywood mystery. secretly a shakespeare adaptation. one of the hosts is michelle agresti. an airline run by killer robots is involved, somehow. it’s a perfect storm

2. I’m good with some plot and higher stakes, but I need something more kind and hopeful right now:

Middle:Below: 10-minute episodes about a man who travels between the worlds of the living and the dead to solve the problems of restless ghosts, and the three friends he does it with -- a ghost, a cat, and a writer. their tagline is “remember: bad things will happen.” this is basically a lie, this show is extremely sweet

Alba Salix: high fantasy medical workplace comedy about hospital staff in a fairytale-ish kingdom, namely one grouchy witch, one distracted fairy, and one extremely disgruntled teenager sentenced to community service. also comes with the miniseries The Axe And Crown, which is about a gay troll bartender, his clueless landlord, and his bombastic niece, and also is one of the most heartfelt touching pieces of audio fiction I’ve ever heard?

Dark Ages: also a high fantasy workplace comedy, but in this one the dysfunctional cast work at a magical natural history museum, which thanks to recent events is now hosting the mythical Dark Lord on top of all the usual problems caused by their complete incompetency.

Solutions to Problems: a sci-fi relationship advice show feat. human host Janet and alien host Loaf. also feat. banter, illegal time travel, what to do when the AI that controls the air you breathe is your on-again-off-again girlfriend, and how to avoid your many spouses when they insist you need to come back to the homeworld and spend some time with your spawn.

Victoriocity: steampunk buddy-comedy mystery show, in which misanthropic detective Archibald Fleet (aka Tom Crowley but he’s grouchy this time) and intrepid newbie journalist Clara Entwhistle (aka an absolute ray of sunshine) uncover some Secret Plots within the government of a very different victorian london. if you like the “opposing personalities come to care deeply about one another as friends” trope this one is for you

Inn Between: not an actual play, but a show about the developing relationships of a party of RPG-esque adventurers as they rest at the inn between campaigns. you don’t see the adventures, just the crew growing closer and learning about one another in their moments of peace.

The Strange Case of Starship Iris: sci-fi adventure about a stranded biologist and a ragtag crew of smugglers who set out to resist an authoritarian government, solve a mystery, and prevent a second human-alien war. as far as I can tell their plan for accomplishing this is to be as funny, gay, and adorable as possible, and to dismantle oppressive systems via the power of found family tropes. also via the power of linguistics.

3. just give me the fluffiest, funniest, sweetest, most relaxed, lowest-stakes thing you have:

Everything is Alive: meditative, deeply touching show where Guy From Public Radio holds interviews with inanimate objects. the interviews are super genuine and beautiful and I think they’re improvised, or at least they sound very natural? for people who want to be profoundly moved by a can of generic brand cola (you may not know but you are one of those people)

Standard Docking Procedure: a self-described “hopepunk” scifi sitcom about a group of employees on a space station, dealing with the little daily misadventures of difficult tourists, traffic control disasters, nonexistent love lives, and each other. Has an explicitly stated purpose of staying happy, lighthearted, and comforting.

Love and Luck: tied for absolute most heartwarming audio drama in existence. the story of the relationship between two Australian men, told through voicemail messages, as they fall in love, start a cafe, build a supportive and loving local queer community of close-knit friends and chosen family who help one another through thick and thin, and also find out that they can do magic apparently (IMPORTANT NOTE: there are some darker events and themes tackled in the plot starting around the latter half of the first season, but the focus of the story itself is always on how people support and help one another through trauma and difficulty, and the explicitly stated core premise of the show is that every character will have a happy ending and be okay.)

Quid Pro Euro: Look Around You-esque satire of old 80s and 90s instructional tapes where Felix Trench tells you what the European Union will look like in the far-off year of 2000. I don’t know anything about the European Union but I cackle like a witch when I listen to this

The Cryptonaturalist: I know you’ve seen his tweets. well it’s that but a podcast. just a man with an extremely nice voice talking about fantastical creatures like salamanders that swim through parking lot asphalt or foxes that roam the shelves of libraries at night. in between he reads poetry and generally talks about nature in the most beautiful way you could imagine. this show feels like a peaceful walk in the woods.

The Hidden Almanac: a podcast made 90% out of gentle fantasy worldbuilding, as a somewhat grumpy man in a plague doctor mask tells you about the history of his world and distributes gardening advice. has an immense archive of four-minute long episodes. it’s best to listen in order, because there is continuity, and be aware that about the first year or so has dropped off most feeds. written and performed by much-loved fantasy writer and artist Ursula Vernon and her husband Kevin.

Startripper!!: the other forerunner for most heartwarming audio drama in existence. seriously, you cannot imagine how much joy Startripper!! will bring into your life. it’s just the travelogue of one little alien with a heart full of enthusiasm and love setting out to see the universe and making friends along the way with just about everyone he meets, including his extremely loveable spaceship AI. I really mean it. listen to this show if you listen to nothing else.

Cabin Pressure: BBC radio workplace comedy about the dysfunctional crew of the world’s smallest airline. not only utterly hilarious but will tug on your heartstrings more than you could possibly imagine (this does not look at first like a found family story but it so very much is). warning for bendytoots cucumberpatch but like, in the one and only valid role he’s ever played. you definitely cannot find this show by searching its name on the Internet Archive.

[tamorasky]

Rise to Me Chapter 7 - January 1947

Summary: 1947. It had been nearly four years since she had received a letter from her sister. Now with the end of the war and her impending wedding, Anna Rendelle is more determined than ever to find her sister.

1943. All her life Elsa Rendelle had been told to be good, know her place and to marry well. When an opportunity arises to make something of herself, finding herself in Occupied France as a part of a larger network of secret agents.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Elsa/Honeymaren, Anna/Hans (Briefly)

AO3

It feels odd not wearing her engagement ring underneath her black suede gloves, nor carrying her purse, but Anna remained firm to leave all her valuables at home, save for a few coins in her coat pocket.

Her gaze remains forward, firm not to make eye contact with any of the beggars on the street or the men calling out to her. She had lied to Gerda this morning when she left the house, knowing the Norwegian woman would have a fit if she learned Anna was going to Spitalfields this afternoon.

She hadn’t even brought a piece of paper with the address written down, ensuring her pockets are bare if she is to be accosted. Walking through the crowded street, Anna repeats the address in her head over and over again, ensuring she will not forget it. Her memory has never been reliable.

Even as she walks down the street, Anna feels as if she should know this area as she walks along Thrawl Street. Much to her annoyance, the sidewalk ceases at the bend, causing the young woman to walk along the road surrounded by brick structures.

Anna shoves her hands into her green coat pockets, her fingers brushing against the satin inside as she approaches Flower and Dean Walk. She’s slightly uncomfortable by the idea of walking down the quiet street as if anything could jump out at her at any moment. But continues down the road, nonetheless.

She glances behind her periodically to remain aware of her surroundings as she searches for house number 37. It is the last of the rowhouses on the block before the street turns into a courtyard surrounded by other brick houses. These Victorian neighbourhoods always unnerved Anna.

Anna lifts the brass knocker as she approaches the door, which slips from her hand, causing the brass to hit against the door louder than she intended. She steps back from the house with wide eyes, worried about how the disturbance will be perceived, especially for a man who lived in such a place.

Jumping at the sound of the door opening, Anna tucks her hands behind her back as her heart pounds in her ears. A man emerges from the house, ducking slightly as he walks through the short doorframe.

He wears a plain cotton t-shirt and brass-coloured trousers with a green coat in his grasp. His blonde hair is ragged and unkempt as his beard is. The man raises a brow at her, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Can I help you?” He asks, his foreign accent resounding through Anna’s bones as she stares at the man standing at least three inches taller than herself. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out, trying desperately to say something as the man is growingly frustrated with her.

“Bjorgman,” She manages to say, closing her eyes at how dim she must sound to him. “That…is…I mean. Shit.”

The American man can’t help but chuckle at this awkward British woman standing on his doorstep, shaking his head. “You wanna try that again?”

“Yes, I’m looking for a Kristopher Bjorgman.” Anna sighs, thankful she is finally making sense. Convinced it is this neighbourhood that is having an effect on her.

“Um…” The man glances behind himself momentarily, then back to the woman, glancing at her up and down. “He isn’t home.”

“Oh, well…might you have any idea of when he’ll be back? You see, it’s about this letter I have, well, a letter that was actually sent to my fiancé from Washington. He’s American, you see and has been helping me with some things…an-”

“He probably won’t be back for some time.” The man cuts her off, shutting the door behind him as he places on a coat which resembles Hans’ military one; the same olive-green colour but shorter in style with the buttons covered by a front panel with an insignia of an eagle sewn on the shoulder.

“Oh, I see. Well, might I leave my information? You see, I don’t often get into this part of town, and my landlady will have the skin off my back if she ever found out I came here.” Anna explains, trying desperately not to be awkward as Hans always teased her about being.

The man runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Yeah, just leave your name and phone number where he can reach you at.” He reaches into his pocket, presumably for a piece of paper and a pen.

“Perfect! So my name is Anna Rendelle, and I can be reached at…” She trails off, noticing the man isn’t writing any this down but pulls out a cigarette and lighter instead. He lights the cigarette, taking a drag of it as he stares down at the woman.

“Alright, Anna Rendelle. I’ll tell him you came by.” The blonde nods, taking a step forward towards the street. Abruptly the wooden door swings open once again, revealing a short elderly lady with a red shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Mr. Bjorgman,” She calls, stopping the blonde man in his tracks. Slowly, he turns to face the older woman with a grimace. “May I inquire when you might pay your rent for last month…and this month.”

“I’ll umm…yes. I will have that to you soon, Mrs. Anderson.” The man, apparently the vary man Anna had been searching for, responds.

“You better. The food for that mutt of yours isn’t cheap.” The white-haired woman places her hands on her wide hips.

“Yes, ma’am. I will have this and last month’s rent soon.” He bows his head, avoiding eye contact with the young woman standing before him.

“When Kristoff?” The older woman snaps as the young man turns from her.

He holds up his hand with his index finger extended. “Soon, Mrs. Anderson.”

“It better be!” The older woman shouts at the young man, who was walking away, before she glances back to Anna sternly. “Who are you then?” Anna opens her mouth to speak but doesn’t, instead her gaze going back to the man making his way down Flower and Dean Walk.

“Hey!” She yells after him, racing to catch up with the tall man. As she comes to stand next to him, her pace remains increased to match his stride. “Mr. Bjorgman, my name is Anna Rendelle, and I was hoping to speak to you about a matter regarding my sister.”

“I don’t know anyone by the name Rendelle.” He curtly responds, turning left onto Thrawl Street.

“No, I’m sure you don’t. But I believe we may have a common interest in this particular instance.”

“What? Is your sister a part of a country club that needs someone to work the grounds? Because I can assure you, I’m not interested.” He responds, raising a brow at the young woman as they turn right onto Commercial Street.

“W-wait what? No, I m-mean my sister has gone missing.” Anna explains as they cross the street.

He stops in front of a corner building, huffing as he throws away his cigarette. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I can’t help you.” Without another word, he disappears into the building, stepping through the glass and wood door.

Anna follows him, only to stop in front of the door for a moment, collecting her thoughts before pushing into the building. The Ten Bells pub had seen better days, the establishment’s wooden interior worn, and the stairs to the second floor blocked off by several chairs.

Mr. Bjorgman sits at the wooden bar on a tall barstool. She marches towards him, her brows knitted together, and her mouth pressed into a thin line as she climbs on the barstool next to him.

“Listen, I need you to take me across the channel.” She states. Trying to remain firm in her resolve while squaring her shoulders, attempting to look strong and confident.

Kristoff sighs, finally glancing at the young woman. He hadn’t expected her to follow him into the pub. “And why would I do that?”

“I heard from Frederick Westergaard about you. That you’re also looking for someone.” Anna explains, wishing she had brought her purse to show him the letters.

He visibly stiffens at that, eagerly reaching the beer the bartender places in front of him and takes a sip. A vein visible shows on his forehead as he places down his pint. “I think you have the wrong man.”

“My sister went missing during the war, I-I don’t know when. I think sometime in 1943, I’ve been looking for her since then. Last I heard is she was enlisted with something called the Special Operatives Executive.” Her fingers brush against the rough wood of the bar. He finally looks at her, turning slightly to face her as he pulls out another cigarette. “I need to find her before I leave for the United States with my fiancé.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He responds, his honey-brown eyes boring into her blue ones. “But I can’t help you.”

Anna stares at him, carefully examining his features, noticing the way his eyes crease as he apologizes. She recognizes that look all too well. “Who did you lose?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He takes another sip of his beer. “Listen, even if you can get across the channel, it doesn’t change the fact that she could be anywhere in Belgium, Germany or France.”

“The ferries have been operating across the channel again. There won’t be an issue with that.” Anna shrugs, shaking her head as the gray-haired bartender offers her a drink.

“And your fiancé? How does he feel about you going off on this wild goose chase?” Kristoff raises a brow questioningly as he takes a drag from his smoke, exhaling away from her.

“Hans is…supportive.” She drags out her words, not having told Hans about her plans to travel to the continent. “He’s been helping me with finding her.”

“So why doesn’t he take you to the continent?”

“H-he’s busy with work, you know and trying to make travel arrangements back to the States. I couldn’t possibly bother him with this stuff.” She excuses, increasingly becoming frustrated with the stranger.

“Sounds like a real knight in shining armour.” He rolls his eyes, finishing his beer and ashing his cigarette.

“You know what?” Anna slips from the stool, her heels hitting against the floor as she narrows her eyes at the stranger. “I don’t need this. I can find my sister by myself; I have been doing it for four years now, and I don’t need your help.”

Kristoff shrugs, his brows lifting slightly as he takes a sip of the freshly poured pint in front of him. “Fine.”

“Fine!” Anna retorts, uncaring if she sounded like an insolent child as her mouth purses, “You may be satisfied sitting here like a sad drunk all day wondering what happened to your person, but I’m not. Good day sir.”

“No. Wait. Stop.” Kristoff calls sarcastically, his eyes focused forward on the mirror behind the bar. For a moment, Anna does stop to turn and look at him but observes he is unbothered by her words or her leaving.

She rolls her eyes in frustration while spinning on her heel, stomping towards the door before pushing through onto the street. The young woman walks quickly to the closest bus stop, not wanting to remain in this awful neighbourhood any longer.

Anna wishes she had refused to take Kathryn’s shift the next evening, her mood still soured by her interaction with him from the other day. She had never understood the stereotype of the “rude American” until meeting Mr. Bjorgman. Certain she would tell Hans about all of it when they meet for dinner tomorrow night.

Throughout her entire shift, Anna is fuming, trying desperately not to be short with customers or Mrs. Steiner when her supervisor scolds her for the run in her stockings. The very run Anna had fixed a week ago in the same pair of stockings. It was inevitable, she would have to buy a new pair.

Groaning in frustration as she glances at the gold clock on the wall, noting that she only had 40 minutes left of her shift. She decided at that moment that she needs a drink after work, tired of everything the last couple of days had thrown at her. As she stands in the department store, Anna decides not to think about it, in fear of bursting into tears on the sales floor.

Instead, she smiles at customers and discusses her wedding with her swooning co-workers in her spare time. After 4 years, she had perfected, pretending everything is fine in her life. As Anna smiles and jokes with Mary, a familiar voice resounds through the salesfloor, instantly souring her mood once again.

She huffs in frustration, blowing her bangs out of her eyes before turning towards the department store entrance. The blond man stands at the front makeup counter, wearing the same clothes from that afternoon and still looking ragged. It surprises her that the security guard isn’t following him through the store as he meanders, looking a little lost through it all.

He slinks through the salesfloor. His gaze searches every makeup counter until they finally fall onto her. As he awkwardly makes his way past customers, Anna watches as he apologizes to the various women he accidentally brushes against.

Kristoff stands at the makeup counter Anna is occupying, drumming his fingers against the glass case as he carefully thinks over what to say.

“Can I help you?” Anna snaps quietly, feeling bad for a moment as she sounds harsher than intended.

“Yeah, I uh…” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, not making eye contact with the young woman. “I came to apologize.”

“Did you?” Anna inquires, cocking a brow as she crosses her arms. She cannot bring herself to believe him quite yet, as he had yet to make eye contact with her.

“Yes!” He barks, frustrated by this woman’s pride. Kristoff takes a deep breath to calm himself. “It was brought to my attention that I was a real asshole yesterday.”

“Really?” Anna responds flatly. “And what gave you such an idea?”

“I-It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to come here to apologize…and to talk.” His gaze drifts to the glass case, focusing on his hands.

Anna’s gaze drifts away from Kristoff for a moment, noticing Mrs. Steiner staring at the two of them with interest. “Meet me at The Clarence pub in about 30 minutes.”

“What?” Kristoff questions, his brows furrowed in response.

“Have a drink while you wait.” Her eyes dart back to Mrs. Steiner to see the older woman inching close. Anna plasters on her best fake smile at the young man as she uncrosses her arms. “Yes, sir, as I mentioned before, you’ll find cookware on the third floor.”

Kristoff stares at the young woman as if she had lost her mind at that moment, trying to understand what the hell she is talking about. Her eyes rapidly shift from him toward her supervisor, causing him to glance over his shoulder to understand what is happening.

“Ah, yes. Well, thank you for all your help.” Kristoff responds somewhat stiffly before turning away from Anna, shoving his hands back into his coat pockets as he walks toward the door. Anna huffs that he doesn’t move towards the elevators to keep up their charade.

Panic instills in her as Mrs. Steiner stands in front of her, glaring at the girl coldly. “What did that customer want?”

“I’m not sure,” Anna shrugs, noting the look of disdain on her supervisor’s features. “He came in asking for a lipstick that would make his girlfriend look like Gene Tierney. I started showing him some samples, and then he asked about cookware. Then he just left.”

“Hmm…how odd.” Mrs. Steiner comments, her gaze not leaving Anna for an instant.

“It really was.” Anna nods, her fingers playing with the cuffs of her forest green collared dress. She learned not to play with the pussy bow on this dress around her supervisor, who would snap at her for fidgeting.

Without a response, Mrs. Steiner glances down, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Clean your counter in the last 20 minutes of your shift.”

Anna stares at her supervisor in confusion as the older woman strides away from her. She had cleaned the glass earlier this morning. The young woman looks down to the glass, only to find finger smudges from where Kristoff had stood.

She huffs in frustration. He really isn’t making this easy on her.

Anna could hardly wait to leave work once her shift had finished. Rushing towards the lady’s breakroom to grab her coat and purse. She huffs upon leaving the department store to find it is raining, she had forgotten her umbrella at home. Quickly, Anna races down the street towards The Clarence, not caring if her braids were unravelling.

As she reaches the pub, Anna pauses outside the building in the rain, catching a glimpse of herself in the door’s glass. Her eye makeup is slightly smudged from the rain, and her lipstick clinging to the creases in her lips. Her auburn hair now in loose brains and whisps of her hair sticking to her cheeks.

Pushing open the door, Anna steps into the building in her wet clothes, shivering as warmth begins to overtake her body. She glances around the bar, spotting Kristoff in the same spot she had sat with Olaf only a week ago. Her gaze focused on the man; Anna moves through the crowd.

He already has a dark beer in front of him, nursing it while he waits. Anna occupies the seat across from him without a word, shrugging her wet green coat from her shoulders as he watches her.

Her dress’s cuffs are wet, causing the young woman to unclasp the cuffs and roll them up to her elbows. She wonders what this man in front of her must think of her looking a mess. A server quickly rushes to their side.

“Can I get you anything?” The young woman asks, not bothering to take out the pad of paper in her apron pocket.

“Could I get a pint of Newcastle?” Anna asks, feeling awkward as she orders. She never ordered beer anymore since she started to see Hans. It felt unladylike for her to do so.

The server nods with a polite smile before turning to Kristoff. “How are you still doing?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Kristoff offers a polite smile back, his face falling as the server walks away from their table. It falls silent between them once again. Before Kristoff mutters, just barely above a whisper. “You’re right.”

Anna stares at the young man, initially shocked. A smile crosses her features as she flutters her eyelashes innocently, cupping her hand against her ear. “I’m sorry. What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the crowd.”

Kristoff rolls his eyes, glancing around the pub with only two other men in the room. “You were right!”

Anna sits back in her chair, cockily, crossing her arms over her chest as her smirk grows. “Well, I’m glad to see you can be reasonable, at least some of the time. Maybe I should’ve found you at the dingy pub yesterday.”

“The bar isn’t dingy it’s just…historical.” He shrugs. The server places the pint in front of Anna before moving onto the other table without another word.

“I felt like I was going to be murdered in it,” Anna states, using both hands to pick up the heavy pint glass to take a sip from it. A small smile ghosts over his features at her comment, which makes Anna pause for a moment. If he were to trim his beard and hair, actually take care of himself, she could understand why one might find the man in front of her to be quite handsome.

“You would have been fine.” He responds, taking a sip of his beer.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re a giant yank!” Anna exclaims. “Any person in that neighbourhood wouldn’t dare to pick a fight with you.” “I really think you’re over-exaggerating.” Kristoff pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it before inhaling. He reaches over the table with the pack of smokes, offering her one.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke.” Anna refuses, her finger twitching at the urge. Smoking was a habit of hers, which is in the past now; she hadn’t smoked since she worked in the factory during the war.

Kristoff nods, exhaling the smoke away from Anna. Silence falls between the pair once again. The sound of glasses clinking against one another echoes throughout the pub as the bartender puts them away. She suppresses the urge to bite her nails with a sigh, drumming her fingers against the table.

The man sighs, taking another sip of his beer. The pint glass thuds against the table as he places it down, his eyes meeting hers once again.

“Why did you ask me here? I assume it has to do with my attempt to reach out to you the other day” Anna inquires, unable to take the silence any longer.

“It is…” Kristoff sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been searching for…someone since the war ended, and I haven’t gotten anywhere.” His eyes drop to the table, staring at the wooden surface dolefully.

Anna stares at the man across from her. A very different man from the one earlier this evening and the other day. She wonders if perhaps that man who poked fun at her and drinks away his days in the pub is somehow a person who tries to forget. Someone, just like herself.

“I know how you must be feeling.” She nods, her fingers brushing away the condensation away from the pint glass. “I-I’ve been searching for her four years now. Every time it felt like I gained an inch, I went back one foot.”

Kristoff slowly glances up at her. “I gave up. My letter to the Pentagon last year was my last attempt, but then everything was classified.”

“Yet you stayed in England?” Anna inquires without thinking. He goes quiet, avoiding eye-contact with the young woman. She feels a twinge of guilt from unable to control her impulses. It was something her father and mother always scolded her for, recalling her mother nearly shouting at her after an incident.

You need to learn to think before you act, Anna Margaret Rendelle.

Even as an adult, those words rang true. As she opens her mouth to apologize, but Kristoff simply nods in response as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “Yeah…I did. Just in case I heard anything about her.”

“Who was she?” Anna can’t help but ask, placing her elbows on the table and cradling her chin in her hands. She wonders if he is searching for his lover, Anna always had loved romance. It was something Elsa used to tease her about a lot, back when they were close.

Kristoff finishes his beer, placing the glass loudly on the table and exhales loudly. “It doesn’t matter.” His entire demeanour changes with that, as if pulling himself away from how he feels about this. “What documents do you have to help your search?”

“Oh! Umm…” Anna trails off, unprepared for that question as she grabs her purse. Pulling out the envelope from her bag and sliding it across the table. Kristoff opens the folder, glancing over the documents. “I was given a copy of my sister’s enlistment forms. It says she parachuted into France near Arras.”

“Alright, here is what I suggest. We’ll drive to Folkstone an-”

“I don’t have a car.” Anna blurts.

“Just listen, I do.” Kristoff calmly explains, closing the folder with the documents. “From there, we’ll take the ferry across the channel to Le Havre.”

She stares at him, a small smile crossing her features. He had come to the pub with a plan. No one had ever gotten this far with planning her search. “And where would you propose we go to next?”

“From Le Havre, we’ll drive to Arras…and I guess…just hope someone knows something.” Kristoff sits back in his chair, sliding the documents back to Anna as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Anna glances down at Kristoff’s empty glass and her nearly empty one. She stands from the table with her hands on her surface. “What are you drinking? I’ll buy us the next round.”

“Guinness draught,” Kristoff responds, smiling up at the young woman. Anna nods, tapping the table twice with her right hand before meandering towards the bar. It is going to be a long night.  

Author’s Note: I apologize for any bad edited, I'm so tired but so excited about this chapter!!

Also, Kristoff will get less confrontational over time!

I kinda went down a rabbit hole with the geography for this, but basically like Dean and Flower Walk, and Thrawl were like the worst crime streets in London during the victorian era. And Ten Bells is an actual historical pub in the neighbourhood.

[spnwriter]

A demons daughter chapter 5

Summary: Y/N Calls out to Cas for help. 

Warnings: mentions of torturer, Vaginal fingering

Things were quiet. Castiel warned me that I had people looking for me. No one has come. I was alone with my thoughts. I realize this is dangerous. But, I didn't have anyone. I was out shopping when I noticed that someone was following me. I hoped that it was Castiel. I turned a corner quickly. Whoever was trailing me didn't notice. She passed me without seeing me. It was another Demon. How did she find me? I was so careful. I teleport close to home. I can't go home if I don't know if she's still following me. There could be more. Suddenly the world goes black.

I wake up to a familiar sight, The darkness in my childhood room. The only light is coming from under the basement door. I can hear the footsteps coming from the first floor. The pipe I'm hanging from shakes somewhat as the steps get louder. I can detect them throwing things. The door opens. I can't tell whos walking down the stairs. They stop in front of me. "Well, Hello." A female voice says. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

I hear the click on the light turn on. I wince at the sudden brightness. "There have been whispers of a new Knight of Hell rising." The woman walks around me. "I didn't believe them...until now." "I'm not a Knight of Hell." "You're the daughter of the one who opened the gates of hell." She answers as she stops before me. "I am not my father." "With the right training, you will be." The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs catches my attention. I recognize the way the Demon holds himself. The right training would be torture. This Demon trained under Alistair. The metal tray of knives and, dental tools gave that away. I have to find a way to get free. I have the advantage that I know this house. I know where all the craw spaces are. The man grabs a knife. "By the end of this, you'll be begging to do what we tell you." He warns. The first cut makes me cry out for Castiel. I couldn't help the prayer from leaving my mind. Castiel's P.O.V We had hit a wall looking for Y/N. Even though she prayed to me, I couldn't get her location. She said she was safe. We weren't convinced. Sam was worried about her. Dean was worried about the damage she could do. I knew the people who were after her were dangerous. She could handle herself. I knew she was capable of fighting. Sam said that he might have found a way to track her despite the warding. Sam had set the spell book on the table when I heard her prayer. They both stop talking as I sat in the chair. "I know where Y/N is." I state. Sam closes the spell book. "Where?" Dean asks. "Sue Falls. Just outside the National Forrest." "How do you know?" Sam asks. "She prayed. In her prayer, she seems to be in a great deal of pain. We have to hurry." I state as we all stand. Dean is pushing the speed limit as we drive to find Y/N. When we arrive near where she was hiding, I inform Dean that we should park here. "We want to keep the element of surprise. We don't know what we're walking into." Sam explains. "If I had to guess, I'm going to say Demons." Dean answers as he gets out of the car. Dean grabs the holy water. Sam reaches for an angle blade. When we arrive at the old Victorian style house, we notice Demons have the house guarded. The paint is peeling off the house. The lawn is freshly mowed. All the shutters are closed. We sneak around the back. We only run into one Demon guarding the door. I can feel her agony as I step into the house. Dean and, Sam take care of the Demons on the first floor. I make my way down to the basement. Two demons down. I see Y/N hanging from the water pipes. Before I could heal her, Sam comes running down the stairs. She's in bad shape. She has cuts all over her body. Her lip is busted. She has bruises forming on her wrists. Sam steps forward. He gently places a hand on her cheek. "Y/N." Sam whispers. She doesn't flinch. She's still out cold. Sam turns to me with a frown on his face. "Cas." Sam sighs. I place two fingers on her forehead. I heal her body but, she's still passed out. "She's lost a lot of blood." I inform. Sam gently uncuffs her wrists. He carries her bridal style to the car. I can tell he's worried about her. He spends the ride with her cuddled into his chest. He gently strokes her hair as she stirs in her sleep. He cares for her. Y/N's Pov   I wake up not longer cuffed to anything. The room is dark but, I don't feel scared. In the dark, I can tell I'm in a bedroom. I slowly sit up. My body doesn't feel sore. The door slowly opens as Sam peeks into the room. "Hi." He whispers. He seems relieved to see me. His gentle smile tells me that he's glad that I'm awake. "Do you need anything?" Sam asks. I nod. I don't want to ask. He opens the door. "I um...I don't want to be alone." I whisper. "Can you stay at least until I fall asleep?" He offers a gentle smile. He walks over to the bed. He pauses as he looks down at me. I grab his hand. I pull him down on the bed. He wraps his arms around me. The feeling of his hard chest makes me feel calm. He strokes my back as I bury my head into him. I have this overwhelming need for him to touch me. The feeling of his hands on me makes me want to kiss this man. He's touching me so gently. Almost like he's afraid that I'm going to break. No one ever showed this much care for me. "Sam." I look up at him. I don't even know how to ask this. I need a gentle touch after today. A feeling that doesn't hurt. I want to feel good. I want Sam to make me feel good. "What do you need?" He asks as he presses me closer to his body. "Touch me, please." I whine. He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. "Are you sure?" "Please, I need to feel something that doesn't hurt." He hesitates for a second. He's searching my eyes. He slowly leans down to kiss me. His lips brush against mine gently. He rests his hand on my lower back to pull me closer to him. He nibbles at my bottom lip. I open my mouth. His tongue slides against mine. It's been so long since anyone's touched me like this. I pull away. "Sam." I whine as he rolls his hips into mine. His hand slips under my shirt. His right-hand paws at my chest as he starts nipping at my neck. "What do you want, baby?" "Want your hands." He trails his hands down my body. His hand slips into my sweats. His thumb circles my clit. "Hmm, already wet." He hums against neck. He slowly slides one finger into me. His finger is so long. He pauses to let me adjust. He continues to nip at my jawline. He slowly pulls it out before he presses it back in. "So tight." He groans "It's been a while." I admit as he presses another finger in. He curls his fingers against my g spot. I whine as he rubs my inner walls. It doesn't take long for me to get close. It's been so long since anyone has touched me. Sam's fingers feel amazing. He knows just how to get me off. His thumb starts rubbing my clit. "Getting close? I can feel your tight little pussy squeezing my fingers. Are you gonna cum all over them?" Sam moans. I grab his forearm as he quickens the pace. "Shit, Sam." I whine. "Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me." I whine Sam's name loudly as I release. He works me through my high. He gently pulls his fingers out of me. He takes them into his mouth. He hums at the taste. I close my eyes to revel in the feeling. Sam presses a light kiss to my lips. I reach for his belt. He stops my movements. I make a sound of protest. "Get some sleep. We have plenty of time for that later." Sam whispers as he presses a kiss to the side of my face. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

[eryiss]

Event: LGBTQA+ Month hosted by @ft-wwtdp​

Ship: Fraxus (Freed Justine x Laxus Dreyar)

Prompts: Blame, Temporary, Queen, Air, Leaving

Verse: Victorian AU

Alternate Places To Read: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own. Event master list here.

Here’s my fifth group of one shots for the LGBTQA+ month. You can read rest in the master list linked above. This is set in the victorian era, and has some minor period typical values. Nothing graphic, but be wanred of suggestions of a less accepting time.

Day Twenty-One – Blame (And Thanks)

It was all that blasted Bickslows fault.

He had been the one who invited Laxus to his home for a night of drinking and cards. He had been the one who first left the house while alcohol burned in his blood. He was one the who had thought it would be hysterical if the two of them went to Magnolia's richer district to make a fuss while drunk. He had been the one to pick up the first stone and toss it down the street. Bickslow was to blame for all of that.

Unfortunately, Laxus had been the one to fall into someone's front garden. To crash into an ornamental plan pot and shatter the thing. To wake the resident.

The woman who owned the house was nothing short of ferocious, with startlingly pink hair and a broom brandished in her hand which she wielded as a weapon. She yelled into the night, threatening Laxus and claiming he was a vandal. It had been then when Laxus had recognised her, and she had recognised him. She was Porlyusica, Makarov's doctor, who knew him well. He couldn't just run from her like Bickslow had, meaning he had to deal with the consequences of his drunkenness.

That was why he was there at eight in the sodding morning, cleaning her pathway with a rag and a bucket of water.

It was humiliating. Laxus had always seen himself as a man among boys, both in stature and personality. He had worked from childhood to provide, earning his keep and making himself into a grandson to be proud of. And now he was on his knees, scrubbing a damn patio as some form of weird public revenge. Furthermore, he would be doing so for the foreseeable future. His supposed punishment was that he would do any chores the old witch wanted for the next month; something his own damn grandfather had suggested.

He was going to kill Bickslow when he next saw him. The bastard was probably without any form of punishment, despite being the instigator of it all. He'd get a black eye for his troubles when Laxus next saw him, he was without doubt of that.

But for now, he needed to grit his teeth and bare it.

As he scrubbed against the patio tiles, he grunted. He hadn't previously considered how difficult it would be to get dried bird droppings out of stone, but it was now becoming the only thing he could think of. He was too engrossed in his task to notice the sound of a carriage pulling to a stop behind him.

Only when a short cough could be heard from behind him was Laxus alerted to the presence of another man. He turned to see someone who was undoubtedly noble, if the creed of his clothing was telling. He stood tall and firm, with long green hair and an expression that was a mixture of amusement and elitism. The slight quirk in his eyebrow showed a small sense of superiority, and Laxus was conflicted.

This was both the type of man he wanted to punch, and to push against a wall and kiss.

Of course, he shook off the idea as soon as it came to him. His… urges were something that were nothing but trick of the mind. It was simply that he had never laid with a woman and the urges of being a man were getting too overwhelming, leading him to be rather desperate.

The lie wasn't convincing, not even to Laxus, but it was all he held onto. Because he couldn't desire men in the same way he was meant to desire women.

"Sorry, sir," He mumbled, standing up to move out of the man's way.

"I wasn't aware Miss Porlyusica hired a house boy," The man commented, voice smooth and calm.

"I ain't exactly a house boy, sir," Laxus corrected, wincing. Was the man high enough in nobility that he shouldn't have spoken.

"So you just enjoy cleaning old ladies' homes? Rather an off pastime, I'd insist on getting paid if I were you," The man chuckled, seemingly amused.

"Well, erm, y'see I caused a bit of damage to her property and doing jobs around the house for her is how she's making me pay her back. I ain't got enough actual money to fix what was broken so, this was what she wanted," Laxus explained.

He didn't know why he was speaking. This man, whomever he was, could easily have walked past him, tutted at him and looked at him like he was a piece of dirt. Porlyusica had many visitors already that had done the same, so perhaps it was the fact that this lord seemed willing to say anything that made Laxus suddenly willing to speak. Or perhaps it was the way his face took on a slightly arrogant, but not entirely unkind expression when he grinned.

But it wasn't that. It couldn't be that. Laxus had made a damn good effort to put thoughts of the sort to the back of his mind. Some lord with a slight slither of generosity wouldn't change that.

"And how long will this agreement take place, might I ask?"

"Till the end of the month, sir," Laxus continued.

"Then we'll be seeing rather a lot of each other, I suppose," The man mused aloud. "I pick up my fathers medicine each day, you see. Rather a pain, actually."

"Oh, I'm sorry sir," Laxus looked down. "About your pa, I mean."

"Don't be, he could be dying today, and I doubt I'd grieve," The lord said bluntly, and Laxus furrowed his eyebrows. "He's a horrid old man, set in his ways. The only reason I'm here rather than a servant is because he's trying to prove a point of some kind. He wishes to scare me away from independence by making me do a singular errand each day. To keep me in his pocket, I assume."

Laxus didn't say anything at that. He had never been privy to men of a higher statue, other than walking past them in the street, and didn't know if such honest evaluations of one's father and his intentions were normal for rich men.

"It won't work, of course. I'll be out of his house the moment I can," The man continued. "But he seems insistent. You take a man to bed from time to time and suddenly your father acts as though you're his property. Its laughable."

Laxus averted his eyes at that, now truly speechless. Take a man to bed? There was no double meaning that was any more innocent than what it seemed, and the man had said it so carelessly. Some men would call the authorities immediately if they heard that, others would deem the lord a target for a beating. Was the man so confident of himself that he cared not about the repercussions. Maybe having enough money gave him such confidence.

Laxus wondered what it would be like to be so fearless about that. He wondered what it would be like living in privilege. He wondered why the man had let his preferences in partners known to Laxus of all people.

"I should get inside. The old woman can be testy when it comes to timekeeping," The man smiled. "Good day."

"G'day sir," Laxus nodded.

"Oh please, call me Freed," The man, Freed, requested. "I greatly look forward to seeing more of you, sir."

He tipped his hat, and walked into the building. Laxus looked on at him with wide eyes, surely he hadn't just been the recipient of flirting. Not so brazenly, and with a man below his station. That was impossible.

But, despite that, Laxus felt he should thank Bickslow, as well as blame him.

~~~

Day Twenty-Two – Temporary (For Now)

The situation wasn't meant to last this long.

Freed's house had been positioned awkwardly beside the Thames river, and because of that was occasionally at risk of flooding. It hadnt been a problem until the previous springtime, where the rain was seemingly endless. The river banks had been breached, the streets had been flooded, and Freed's house had been damaged to the point where it was no longer liveable. Until it was rehabilitated, Freed had needed to find somewhere temporary to live.

That was where Laxus had come into play. He had inherited a house of his grandfather that had two separate bedrooms, one that had been unoccupied. He had offered Freed the spare room to rent for a short while until his own home was back to a liveable standard.

At least that was the story people had been told.

It was almost entirely true. Freed's house had been damaged beyond the point of it being possible for him to live there. Laxus did have a spare room which he wanted to rent out. The lie came in the fact that Freed, rather than using the spare room he was paying for, he rather occupied Laxus' own bed, alongside the man. That was the part of the arrangement that neither man wanted people to know.

The two mee had met just under a year prior, at a bar that catered mainly to men of their preferences. They had drunk together, talked together, and advanced their relationship to something more physical. Therefore the decision to have Freed move into Laxus' home was the logical decision to take.

It made enough sense as a story, that two platonic men would move in with one another. Freed was a journalist and Laxus a private investigator, so a friendship wasn't impossible. To everyone else, it seemed like one friend was helping out another.

And they were. Just with the added benefits of something akin to matrimony.

But lately, Laxus had heard that Freed's house had been getting closer to a liveable state. He knew that this was meant to be temporary, and that he shouldn't have gotten used to waking up with his lover wrapped around him, but he had. He had gotten used to it almost immediately, and he wasn't anywhere near ready to give it up.

"Freed," Laxus said as they ate their supper. "I've a suggestion to make."

"Of course," Freed nodded. "Go on."

"Well, I mean, you living here had been… well, I never expected something like this to happen. And I'm not sure if I'm ready for it to end. I was wondering what you would think if we considered the possibility of us staying here, the both of us."

"You wish for me to live with you permanently?" Freed asked.

Laxus nodded, feeling a little nauseous now he had spoken. He had never been in a relationship – men were his only interest, and it wasn't likely for him to find someone who shared that – so he had never been in a situation like this. Making this more of a permanent arrangement was something he wanted, but was it appropriate for him to ask his lover the same. Did Freed even see this as a relationship, or was it just a convenient way for him to get to bed.

That thought left a further sick feeling in his stomach. He had been told that men couldn't have relationships with other men, and perhaps that was true. Maybe Freed just wanted a warm bed with a willing man inside of it, not anything emotional.

"It's interesting you've mentioned that," Freed continued. "I did think about the same thing myself, though I hadnt said anything as I didn't want to intrude on your home."

"Honestly?" Laxus asked, hope now fluttering inside of him. "You'd wanna live here."

"If you'd have me, of course," Freed said, smiling softly.

The look on his face was a small thing, but it made Laxus feel utterly stupid for thinking that Freed wanted something without emotions. Because the two of them weren't just bedmates, they were something closer. They shared interests, had talks about their lives, and cared for each other deeply. Thinking otherwise had been a moment of madness.

"Of course I'd have you," Laxus grinned, heart beating fast in his chest. "I mean, I don't know the logistics of it. People might start askin' questions-"

"We could just say that you needed the money of an occupant, and I couldn't continue to maintain a household by myself, and this seemed like the obvious thing to do," Freed smiled, before admitting sheepishly. "I may have been thinking about this for a few weeks."

Laxus grinned further, looking around. The curtains for their kitchen – it was their kitchen now, not just his – had been drawn tightly meaning nobody would have any chance of looking inside them. He reached across the table, took Freed by the cravat, and pressed their lips together.

The kiss was intense and passionate as a kiss can be when both men were reaching over a table, and Laxus smiled throughout all of it. After realising his preferences for men as a teenager, he had resigned himself for either a life alone or with a woman he couldn't truly love in the way he wanted. He had thought he would be a lonely man, without real connections, but that wasn't going to happen.

Because he had a man he loved, a man who loved him. And that man was going to live with him; this would be the house he shared with him. They were going to be as close to married as two man could get, and the feeling set fireworks inside of his stomach. As did the kiss. Freed's kisses always had such an effect on him.

"So," Freed chuckled. "If that's an indication of the future, I suppose living with you has its perks."

"Oh," Laxus grinned, heart thudding. "You have no damned idea."

~~~

Day Twenty-Three – Queen (And Her Staff)

For perhaps the first time in his career, Laxus was scared of his job.

Being head butler for the Justine Estate was a relatively simple job. His main duty was to make sure the rest of the staff were performing their jobs as well as they could, while also maintaining the luxury of a manor house as best he could. He awoke the family at their chosen times, delivered them their food, and did what was asked of him. It was a damn simple job, helped by the fact the family seemed lacking the complete arrogance and eccentricities of their ilk.

Other than the oldest son. But he was Laxus' lover, so the butler could look past that.

But today was different. Because, despite being a modest family in their actions, they were influential members of Fiore. They owned vast amounts of lands, and the father of the family was in line to be king. Admittedly, it was unlikely, given twenty-seven people needed to die for that to happen, but it did mean he was important.

And that level of importance had led to them getting a royal visit. The Queen was soon to visit for an afternoon, and that apparently required a large amount of planning. Today, the Queen's personal staff were coming to make sure the house was good enough for her majesty to visit, and that the staff were trained well enough. Given his position as the head butler of the household, if anything was seen as lacking, it was to be his fault.

He was less than pleased about that.

Despite his nerves, he went about his regular day. He woke the family up – ignoring the smirk that damned intolerable Freed gave him when Laxus discovered he had slept without his nightshirt; he was still blushing as he left the room – and then walked to the kitchen to specify the family's desires for breakfast that day. Overall, it was going well.

Until of course the royal representatives came. It was an overly exaggerated affair, with each member of the family and all of the staff required to greet them. Even the coach they arrived on seemed to pronounce how superior they felt.

After introductions, they were to be shown a tour of the house. Laxus had been forced to give it.

There was a lot of what Laxus considered to bit nit-picking. Anything so much as a slight crease in the sheets of a bed was exaggerated to the point where Laxus felt he was being accused of treason. The main perpetrator of the unneeded criticism was the castle's head butler: Rufus Lore. A pretentious and arrogant man with long blonde hair, a sneering expression, and a face that Laxus could only describe as incredibly punchable.

But all he could do was stand there and allow himself to be chastised, as he was representing the Justine household. He cared greatly for his employers, and knew that this visit needed to go well. So he would just take the criticism on board, and absently fantasise about drowning the smug bastard in the lake.

He had fully planned to keep himself calm, had the events of the kitchen not happened.

Part way through explaining what they could cook for her royal highness's visit, one of the kitchen staff had dropped an empty plate. It was Rufus' fault, given that he was standing right in front of the oven – which was being used – and the staff had to attempt to work around him as he out-right refused to move away.

"That level of incompetence wouldn't be allowed if you were part of our staff," Rufus had commented, and Laxus already gritted his teeth at that. "I expect that's the same here."

He wanted them to fire someone who had been working at the house for over twenty years, all because he felt himself too important to move out of the way and let them do their job. That was apparently the breaking point for Laxus.

"You ain't exactly making it easy for them to do anything, are ya?" He muttered, losing the charming tone he normally spoke to while working. The kitchen staff looked at him in shock.

"Excuse me?" Rufus turned to Laxus with an expression that one might wear if someone had called their mother an unsuccessful trollop. "I don't know who you think you are, but I can assure you that any form of disrespect aimed towards any member of the royal party is seen as a great offence to everyone in the country. Now forgive me if I'm wrong, but as a representative of the royal family, I should be shown the same respect that you would show the Queen herself."

He continued to shout, and Laxus found himself clenching his fist by his side. This idiot had to have a damned high opinion of himself if he thought he deserved the same respect as actual royalty.

Unbeknownst to Laxus nor the man who chastised him, Freed Justine had walked into the kitchen. He had heard the yelling from outside the door – particularly the part where his staff had been insulted as laughably incompetent – and that had been enough to get his interest. Because he cared for his staff, and refused to allow them to be demeaned in such a way.

When he saw Laxus, it was clear his lover was losing patience. Freed knew he needed to get involved quickly, as Laxus could lose his job if he acted out against the royal visitor. Luckily, Freed had no such repercussions to contend with.

"Good sir," He said, his sharp authoritative tone cutting through Rufus' yelling. The room looked at him. "Please explain to me why you are yelling at my head butler."

"He claimed-"

"Don't use that tone with me," Freed demanded, voice poisonous. "And you are to refer to be as 'sir' at the very least."

"Well sir," Rufus continued, and Freed knew his irritation was making his manners slip even now. That was what Freed wanted. "Your supposed-"

"Did I say I was finished," Freed demanded walking towards Rufus with a glare. "I am a lord of this state and you will treat me thusly. Just as you may think my staff are a reflection of this household, you are a reflection of her royal highness and her family. And if this is the type of staff she keeps, then I greatly feel sorry for those close to her."

"How dare you speak of her highness in such a way-"

"And how dare you speak to my staff as you did. You are a guest in my home and as such you are expected to follow certain social rules. If you think you have the right to speak to my employees with such vitriol then you will find that you'll be out on your arse faster than you can blink."

Laxus, as well as everyone else in the kitchen, watched Freed with a slight amount of shock. The lord had often shown himself to be the most rebellious of the family, even if it wasn't obvious at first glance. But even still, lambasting a representative of the royal family was something big.

Rufus himself seemed shocked, and was apparently speechless at the fact that a man of Freed's position had said something as uncouth as arse. Laxus almost smiled at that, he'd heard Freed say worse.

"Now, you are going to continue your duties, good sir," Freed spat the title out like an insult. "And you'll be damn respectable to my staff. And if even a single one of them has anything bad to say of you, I will relay it to her majesty herself and see what her opinions of it are. Am I clear?"

"Yes," Rufus muttered, crestfallen and embarrassed. "Sir."

"Good," Freed nodded. "Mirajane, could you show Mr Lore to the dining room, please. I need to speak with Mr Dreyar."

Mirajane nodded and showed Rufus out of the door. Once he was gone, the room deflated and Freed walked to Laxus. He placed a hand softly on Laxus' cheek in a comforting and calming way, and Laxus smiled softly. Most of the staff knew of their relationship, so there was no need for subtlety.

"Take some time to calm down," Freed said softly. "If you wish to spend some time down here to recover, I'll explain to father. That goes for the rest of you, too."

"Thank you sir," Laxus nodded, and Freed removed his hand from his cheek. "And thanks, for sticking up for me."

"What good am I if I can't do that," Freed smiled. "I should go and tell father about what happened, so he's prepared. Good day to you all. And I'm sure I'll see you later, Mr Dreyar."

Laxus grinned as Freed left. It was nice to know that Freed was willing to fight his corner, and Laxus found himself smiling for the rest of the day.

~~~

Day Twenty-Four – Air (Of a Late Evening)

The coolness of the evening air hitting his face was a welcome release, and Laxus leant against the metal railing of the balcony. The room that he had just been in, despite its seemingly endless size, had felt stuffy and suffocating. It was a lot nicer out here in the garden, with a gentle wind hitting his face and no annoying women surrounding him.

To think that one of those women was to be his wife.

Of course nobody would say it, but that was what this whole party was for. Makarov had a large amount of land and, recently, it had been discovered that the land contains a large amount of copper. Nearly every mining company in the local area wanted to buy the land for the mining rights, and the party had been organised for the prospective buyers to meet the Dreyar's in a social situation. Essentially, every mining family had brought their daughters as some kind of bargaining chip, and one of them would be wed to Laxus to affirm the future relationship between their family and the Dreyar's.

Makarov had assured him that wasn't going to happen, but Laxus knew that Ivan had been the one to organise this party. And while Makarov wasn't going to marry off his grandson for business, Ivan would. Laxus just had to accept it. Even if the idea made him feel nauseous.

"Do you smoke?" A voice came from behind Laxus, making him turn around.

It was a man with long green hair, the representative of the Justine family; Freed Justine. He had escorted his sister – who might soon by Laxus' wife – and was the businessman for the family. He was a well put together man of a higher social status, and rather handsome too. He had a small cigar case outstretched, with one in his lips.

"Thanks," Laxus nodded, taking a cigar and a match.

"You looked rather miserable in there, I must say," The man chuckled, leaning against the railing alongside Laxus. "Not the typical reaction for a man with beautiful women fawning over him."

"They ain't exactly what I'm lookin' for in a partner," Laxus mumbled.

The blonde looked over the large land owned by his father, an expansive garden of beautiful grass and well-formed flower beds. He had been purposely vague about what he was looking for, as being honest about such things could often end up with one in trouble. No matter how beautiful a woman was, nor how thrilling their personality may be, that wouldn't be what Laxus was looking for. Certainly not the type of women that had come to this party.

Ironically, the only person who had piqued his interest was now standing beside him.

"I thought as much," The man smiled, and Laxus felt frozen under his gaze. "This must be rather horrid for you, then. If you don't have any interest in these women."

"I can deal with it," Laxus muttered.

"You probably can. It's a shame that you have to, though," Freed had a charming look on his face as he gazed over Laxus. "Rather a waste, you could say."

Laxus shot his eyes forward, reddening slightly and feeling almost pinned by the charming smile of the gentleman beside him. Freed really was a handsome man, and there was a slight air of contained mischief behind his smile. Laxus didn't know how he would have reacted if he maintained eye contact with a man who could make such an expression.

"If it eases your troubles, it wouldn't be a necessity for you to marry my sister, if you were to go into business with my family," Freed continued, smiling.

"Why'd she come, then?"

"Your father seemed to think it was a requirement, and my father wished to cover all bases," Freed explained. "But in all honesty, all we need is an assurance that our relationship will be," Laxus felt Freed's arm rest softy against his. "Close."

"Oh," Laxus said, reddening further.

He was almost definitely misunderstanding what was happening. The charming smile and the piercing eyes were just the eyes of someone who knew to get what he wanted, and the light presence of the man's strong body against his own wasn't anything but an accident. There was no way that the man was flirting with him. Even if the eldest Justine son was known for being a rather eccentric and non-conforming man.

But maybe he was flirting. It wasn't completely impossible. The richer the man, the less fear he held about being prosecuted. Perhaps Mr Justine was so confident in himself that he was open about his… persuasion. Laxus just needed to see further.

Maybe to indulge himself, too. He deserved it, after the night he was having.

"How would you say we make sure our family's bond is close?" Laxus asked, avoiding the man's eyes.

"Many different ways. Anything from a well-crafted contract to keep us both in line, to something more…" He thought for a moment, and Laxus could feel the man's eyes on him. "Liberal."

"Liberal?" Laxus echoed. "Sounds interesting."

"I thought you'd say that," Freed chuckled. "Perhaps you and I should thrash it out at some time. If you're willing to, of course."

Laxus' eyes widened, there was no chance of the phrasing being accidental. Nobody referred to a business meeting as 'thrashing it out' without the double meaning of it being intentional. Apparently Laxus' suggestion that he would be interested in something liberal had meant that Freed no longer seemed to be subtle. Laxus was glad for the bracing wind that would cool his heating skin.

If he hadn't needed some air before, he did now.

"I'll do what I can," Laxus said, stumbling over his words slightly.

"I'm glad to hear it. I should leave you now, give you some time to think. I understand that you don't want to go into something this large without thinking," Freed patted Laxus' shoulder, and it sent shivers down his spine. "I should make it known that I don't mix business with pleasure."

Ridiculously, it felt like a punch to the gut. Had he been taken for a fool?

"Luckily," Freed continued, amusement on his face when he saw Laxus' reaction. "I don't have much to do with my family's business. So I expect I can focus on the pleasure. Good day, sir."

Freed walked back inside, and Laxus was left with no doubt as to what Freed wanted. Nor with what he wanted with Freed, if he was honest.

Thank god he had come out for air.

~~~

Day Twenty-Five – Leaving (For something Better)

Makarov was probably more emotional than he should have been.

The news his grandson would be moving out hadn't shocked him, but it didn't make it any less a big deal. He'd always lived with his grandson since the boy's mother had passed, and now almost twenty years after that had happened, he was going to lose the man. He scolded himself for thinking like that; the young man was only going to live at the other side of the town, it was hardly another country.

Laxus was currently tying down the rest of his items to a cart, which would be pulled to his new house shortly. Helping him move his items to the cart was Freed, the man who was to be his new landlord.

Well, that was what they told people.

Makarov knew better, though. He had seen the looks that they shared when they thought nobody else was looking. He had noticed how Laxus seemed to both brighten up and relax when Freed walked into a room. He had seen the shared laughter between them when they drunk together in the sitting room. Most people would have thought they were friends, but Makarov knew his grandson better. He knew the effect that Freed had on him.

It had taken some time for Makarov to come to terms with his grandson's fondness for men. Or, just Freed, maybe. He hadn't spoken about it, hadn't gotten a clue on how he could bring it up to Laxus that he knew. But he was happy for his grandson, life was hard enough already; it was nice to share it with someone.

Freed was a good man, from what Makarov could tell. He worked hard for his money, but was caring and kind to Laxus when he could be. The type of man who would care for Laxus, but also challenge him. Perfect, so Makarov thought.

Even knowing that Laxus was going to be happy, it made Makarov a little sad.

"Could I have a talk with you Laxus," Makarov asked, getting the two men to look at him. "In the kitchen, just before you leave."

"Sure," Laxus nodded, before glancing to Freed. "Will it take a long time. You might wanna go on ahead if it does. Don't exactly wanna travel through town through the night with all of this in a cart."

"Oh it won't take long," Makarov waved the idea off. "Just a cup of tea."

Laxus nodded, and the two men walked into the kitchen. The house was small and cramped, smaller than the one Laxus would be moving to, and Makarov smiled a little at the idea. It was nice that his grandson was going to be moving up in the world, even if only by a slight amount.

The story that Laxus and Freed had told people was that Laxus had gotten a new job beside the docks, which was true. The docks were on the other side of town, and Freed's home was right next to it. Freed needed a lodger to make sure he could keep up his payments on the house, the two of them were friends, and Laxus needed to move out of his childhood home eventually. It all made sense, and most of it was true. But, Laxus wouldn't be paying for his own bed, but rather for more convenient access to Freed's.

Makarov couldn't fault that. If he could have moved in with the woman that became his wife before they wed, he would have done so.

"I just want to say," Makarov began, sitting at the kitchen table. "That I really am proud of you, brat. You've grown up to be a good man, and you'll be missed."

"Oh," Laxus mumbled. He always had been awkward around compliments. "Thank you."

"One day, you'll learn to accept a good word said about you," Makarov shook his head. "But what I mean is, I do truly care for you. More than you might think. And I know that you have to move on, but know that you'll always have a seat at the table and a bed upstairs, if you need it," Makarov thought for a moment, before continuing. "Nothing will change that."

"Thanks, Gramps."

Laxus probably hadnt picked up on the meaning, and why would he. For all he and Freed were concerned, nobody knew of the nature of their relationship. Why would he read into Makarov's words and see that he was being invited to come out with his relationship, were he ready.

"But I'm sure that you'll be fine, you're an adult after all," Makarov continued, smiling softly. "From what I've seen, you and Freed get on quite well. I'm sure being his lodger will be good for you both."

Laxus reddened ever so slightly. "I'm looking forward to it," He confessed, before realising he might have said something too obvious. "Won't have to hear you waking up and taking a piss every morning at three."

"I suppose not," Makarov laughed, and they both shared a grin.

Makarov looked at his grandson, and suddenly felt a rush of pride flow through him. He'd turned out damn well, considering everything that the world seemed to throw at him. And now he was moving to live with his lover, a man just as good as he was, and there was nothing, but pride Makarov could feel for that.

Before he could stop himself, the old man reached up and wrapped his arms around Laxus in a sharp hug. He blinked away the tears that came with the sudden rush of emotions, and patted his grandson on the back.

"You make sure he's good to you," He whispered. "You don't take any shit from him, and make sure he treats you well you understand?"

Laxus looked shocked at the man, before smiling softly. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good."

Makarov smiled, patted Laxus on the back and let him go. He'd raised a good man.

[johaerys-writes]

Once Upon A Dream

Fandom: The Song of Achilles Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Prompt: Reincarnation!AU

This is my entry for Day 1 of @patrochillesweek 2020, where reincarnated Achilles and Patroclus meet in Victorian London! I hope you enjoy :)

Read here or on AO3!

***************

The rain pattered softly against the roof of the carriage as the horses pulled it through the grand gates of Lord Angove’s estate. It was just an hour’s drive from London, away from the bustle of the city, yet to me it seemed like the entire city had somehow found itself there. The long carriageway was filled with coaches, horse hooves clopping on the now muddy ground, lords and ladies in their finest outfits crowding before the manor’s entrance. In the dusk that was falling, the lit up windows looked like stars, gates into another realm, perhaps. It appeared almost dreamy, in the way the golden light of lamps and crystal chandeliers flickered and trembled, in sharp contrast to the darkening sky, to the shiny black wood of the coaches, the elaborately dressed figures that wove amongst each other like schools of fish, languidly drifting in warm, tropical waters.

“Let’s go,” my father said gruffly as soon as the carriage had stopped, snapping me out of my reverie.

The raindrops dampened the top of my head, the shoulders of my fine coat. It was amongst the finest I owned; my father had insisted I wear it, though it made me feel even more out of place than I already did. I followed him up the glossy marble steps, through the manor entrance, into the grand ballroom the footmen led us to. Chatter rose from every corner. Luxurious and decadent it was, without a doubt, with high, domed ceilings and elaborately carved columns, with exotic plants and odd artifacts that graced the walls. Lord Angove’s trading ships went far and wide, and they often brought back animals that no one had ever seen before, spices that burnt your tongue if you tried them, wines that were said to steal one’s wits after a couple swigs. The entire room seemed to be an extravagant display of wealth. Father disliked Lord Angove, of course, as he did most people. Including myself.

“Stand straight,” he hissed at me. “Don’t slouch.”

I sighed. “Yes, Father.” I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin. It was a hot evening despite the rain, and the scent of wet earth that drifted through the open windows mingled with the smell of freshly poured wines, of fine perfumes, of food being cooked in the kitchens below. I slipped a finger below my collar and carefully loosened it, taking in a breath. I hadn’t wanted to come, but Father had insisted upon it; so, I had acquiesced. And now I was paying for it, with a head that was already heavy and sore, and an undershirt that was slowly, yet steadily, growing damper.

I sipped on the sweet, red wine in my glass, wishing it was cool instead of uncomfortably lukewarm, when a wave of laughter drew my attention to the far end of the room, where a cluster of people gathered. Someone amongst them had just said a joke, I presumed, a rather hilarious one, judging by their reaction. That someone was standing in their midst, sipping on his wine, eyes glittering with mischief and satisfaction while the others howled. They were all young lords, their clothes were fine and well made, much finer than mine. Frills and ruffles, silks and velvets, thread of gold and silver embroideries on their sleeves, their doublets, their expensive vests. Perfectly groomed hair, beards and moustaches on comely faces, yet they all looked coarse and dull compared to the man they were all so affectionately peering at. His garb was simple compared to theirs, his hair gathered in a simple tail at the nape of his neck, strands of spun gold that glittered in the light as he moved. The colour of his skin was rich and slightly tan, like he’d been under the sun all day. He had this air about him, polite yet just a touch indifferent, like the doings of those around him did not interest him as much as they all assumed they did. Graceful, yet casually unaware of it; eyes as keen and sharp as a hunting cat’s. He smiled when someone whispered something in his ear. Peony coloured lips widened over teeth white as peeled almonds, and it seemed to me that the room grew a little brighter; he laughed, and his chin that lifted slightly exposed the soft, fawn-smooth skin of his throat.

I caught myself staring, and quickly looked away, but curiosity nagged at me. Who was this man?

“The Prince,” my father said, having noticed me watching.

I gaped at him. “The Prince? I thought he was studying in Rome.” So, that explained his tanned complexion, the golden, sun-kissed hair. Or did it?

“He’s recently returned,” Father continued. “The King’s health is failing, and he has been called for. He’s the most sought after bachelor right now. Dozens of families are clamouring for his hand. Soon, he’ll be the most powerful man in England.” He shot me a sharp and harshly appraising look. “This is what a son should be like.”

His words drove through me, like a lance. I pressed my lips firmly together, looked away from him. I hadn’t asked to be the way I was. I hadn’t asked to be small and weak and unremarkable in every way. I hadn’t even asked to be there, in that stifling, suffocating room, yet there I was. And no one was thanking me for it, or looking at me with glittering eyes, like they all seemed to look at him.  

The man in the distance said something again, and the others laughed and cheered, raising their glasses to him. Anger rose in me, slow and dull; and something else, something dark and sinister, like jealousy, that coated my tongue and made it taste bitter like bad almonds. Prince, I sneered, inside my head.

As if he had heard my thought, his gaze snapped to mine. Green and vibrant, twin emeralds that sharpened and focused on me. I stood, frozen, a deer before bright lights. Everything around me faded in the background, the people, the music, the jests and the songs. It was like time had stopped, and there was nothing else in the world, other than the two of us, gazing at each other from a great distance.

I jerked my eyes away, feeling heat travelling up my cheeks. It was not polite to stare. I shouldn’t have done it, yet something tugged at me, something that I couldn’t quite decipher. I turned back to him, but his attention had been diverted elsewhere once more. He seemed to have entirely forgotten I was there. He probably had.

Later, after the food had been served in the expansive hall and everyone had eaten and drank their fill, I had no desire to remain in the stuffy room. While my father talked with Lord Bramante about the King and the current state of affairs, I quietly slipped away, leaving the talk, music and commotion behind me. A few servants eyed me warily and bowed hastily when they passed me by in the otherwise empty corridors of the manor, and I nodded in acknowledgement, hoping that I hadn’t strayed too far, into areas of the house I was not supposed to be. At that moment, though, it didn’t feel like I wasn’t really supposed to be anywhere. The day had dragged on, and I was weary, and I wanted nothing more than to return to my own house, in my own room, and lock myself away from that world that did not agree with me.

I had heard that Lord Angove was a lover of the arts, and that was no lie. I passed room after room whose walls were almost entirely covered by frescos and large paintings, depicting idyllic scenes or scenes of battle from famous legends and stories. I followed them curiously, standing before this one or the other, noticing their details, the soft or dynamic brushstrokes, the colours, the emotions. There was one in particular I wanted to see, one that was said the Lord had acquired at great expense, painted by an artist who was supposed to be a master of his craft and had been dead for at least a hundred years. It would be hidden in some of the inner rooms, I guessed, so I followed the trail, looking for it. When I finally found it, I realised I was not the only one that sought to admire a piece such as that.

The Prince was standing before it. He was alone this time, without his loud entourage. He somehow seemed even more kingly without it. He looked serene, entirely absorbed; his silence and stately grace his only companions. I stood at the door, unsure whether I should intrude upon his quiet meditation or withdraw before he had noticed my presence. Before I’d managed to make up my mind, he turned to look at me with those keen, feline eyes of his.

“Come,” he told me, and his voice carried that effortless command that seemed to come so naturally to him. I obeyed, though somewhat grudgingly. I disliked being told what to do, yet he was the Prince. The heels of my shoes clicked on the polished marble floor as I approached, coming to stand beside him. His gaze had drifted from me to the painting before him once more.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked. His voice was bright and clear like freshly melted snow, with a soft cadence to it that reminded me of the sighing of mountain winds, the trill of songbirds hidden in thick foliage, maple leaves stirring with the breeze. A stream flowing over polished rocks. Rose quartz crystals glittering in the morning light. Painted constellations on a domed cave roof.

Orion, I thought to myself, conjuring the shape of the stars in my mind. The Pleiades.  

I started at my own knowledge. I didn’t remember ever studying the names of constellations. I did not even know that place that sprung up in my memories, yet it felt like I did. Like I had been there, once. Perhaps in a dream.

I took a breath to clear my head and looked up at the large, magnificent painting, brushing the odd images away. The scene depicted was a large and messy one; a proud warrior was standing on his chariot, his golden armour glinting in the sun, his spear poised to be thrown, while scores of horses and chariots ran behind him. Awe gripped me the more I stared at it. “It is,” I replied, softly, as if scared to disturbed the man in the painting from his sacred mission.

“Are you familiar with the story of Achilles?”

“Of course,” I said. “Who isn’t?” My tutor had made me memorise the entire first book of the Iliad when I was little, had made me recite it to him word for word. I was never drawn to ancient myths and legends of battle, their ferocity felt odd and foreign to me, yet the legend of Achilles always held a place of wonder in my heart. A fearless warrior, the son of a goddess, a god himself- a human. A friend. A sworn and loyal companion. His devotion always at odds with his might, his arrogance, his hubris. How could I not know about his story? How could I not be drawn to it?

The Prince nodded, his hands folded at the base of his spine, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “Do you believe that he and Patroclus were lovers?” he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to ask.

I choked in the act of swallowing, and my lungs spasmed in a fierce coughing fit. I wheezed and gasped through it, glancing wildly around me. If anyone had been there to hear-  I did not even want to think about what they would have thought. Lovers? I shivered. Such statements, such words were unthinkable, unutterable, unnatural.  

I did not want to admit that the very same thought had troubled me for nights on end.

He was watching me calmly, his gaze steady, while I gaped at him, my eyes wide as saucers.

“No,” I croaked, “of course not. They were friends, companions, not- not that. ” I blinked, and something like hope rose in me, swelling in my throat. “Weren’t they?”

He turned back to the painting. He stayed silent for a moment before he said, “Would you lay waste to an entire city for a friend?”

“If… if it was a good friend.”

“Would you keep his dead body in your room for days?”

“I-”

“Would you ask to be buried with him, for his ashes to be mingled with yours after you died?” His eyes focused on me, steady and relentless. “Those of your friend?”

I would, if it were you.

The thought came to my mind suddenly, unbidden. It was one of my own thoughts, yet it did not feel like mine. It was as if there was someone else whispering at me, or some hidden, forgotten part of me, struggling to break through. It shocked me to my very core, as much as it gripped and pulled at me. At that moment, as we gazed at each other, I knew it that, should he die, the world would lose something irreplaceable. Something beautiful and bright and true, and wasn’t that a crime to make all other crimes pale in comparison?

I tried to look away, tear my gaze from his but I was caught, pinned, unable to do anything else other than return his stare. His eyes were seas of forest green, and I was wading through them, breathless and eager to get somewhere, to find something. What, I did not know.

My mouth was dry when I tried to speak. "I… am not sure," I managed finally, after what felt like ages. "Perhaps."

He watched me in silence for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, softer than it had been. "It always makes me wonder," he said. "The depth of his devotion. The magnitude of his grief. His… love. Simply put. I do not understand it, yet it pulls at me. It begs to be understood. To be made sense of." The Prince's attention was on me entirely now, as if there was nothing and no one else in the world for him right then. He tilted his head to the side, studying me. "Have we met before? I swear you look familiar."

There was no haughtiness to his expression, no mock or ridicule. There was interest, and earnest curiosity, as if my answer would shift something significant inside him.

"I don't believe so,” I replied, the words catching in my throat. “I'm sure I would remember." He was indeed familiar, I realised. I studied the contours of his face, sculptor perfect, the smooth skin that stretched over his brow. I followed the line of his jaw with my eyes, the tendons of his delicate throat. There was a grace in those features, soft like a woman's, but angular and precise at the same time. He looked like no one else I’d ever seen, yet I knew I’d seen him somewhere before. I knew, with a certainty that startled me, that I knew him.

The sound of his laugh, rich and clear like a babbling brook. His hair under the bright midsummer sun. The amber light of a fire catching in the emerald depths of his eyes. His hand in mine. Moments of happiness and grief, of quiet contemplation, and moments when my heart beat so hard I thought it would burst. A thousand little moments, like fireflies in the night, crowding forward.

“Maybe in a dream,” I whispered, before I’d even realised I’d spoken.

He considered my words carefully, holding my gaze, as if I’d said something of great wisdom.

“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “In a dream.”

The rain, soft like distant whispers, pattered gently against the window panes.

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 19

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 19 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 19/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - I spent all morning finishing this episode! You are not ready.]

The phone attached to the console started ringing.

The Doctor answered it. “Yes? What? I'm trying to read. That's always pointless. What did she say? Well? Well?”

Whatever Madame Vastra said got the Doctor’s attention, because Elise could see it on his face. He took off his glasses and stared at them. He hung up and grabbed his jacket.

“Where are we going?” Elise asked.

“You, are not going anywhere.”

“What?”

“You’re going to wait in the carriage.”

“You know, if I had known you were going to keep me locked up, I would’ve left with River.” But Elise was bluffing. She could have never left the Doctor. He was all she knew.

The Doctor grabbed a deerstalker hat and took her by the arm, leading her to Madame Vastra’s.

Strax took them to the Institute and true to his word, the Doctor locked the carriage behind him. He’d even taken her sonic screwdriver from her so she couldn’t get out.

Elise crossed her arms over her chest and sulked in her seat. She knew why he was doing this. For the same reason he’d told her to stay by the TARDIS that day in the graveyard. He didn’t want to lose her, but he was starting to irritate her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Doctor walked around the edge of the pond, sonicing it. He’d still not returned Elise’s screwdriver to her, which Elise didn’t appreciate. “Body frozen in a pond. The snow gets a good long look at a human being, like a full body scan. Everything they need to evolve. A pond. Good point, Clara.”

He turned around and saw Strax holding an alien weapon. “What are you doing here?”

“Madame Vastra wondered if you were needing any grenades?”

“Grenades?”

“She might have said help.”

“Help for what?”

“Well, your investigation.”

“Investigation? Who says I'm investigating? Do you think I'm going to start investigating just because some bird smiles at me? Who do you think I am?”

Strax smirked. “Sherlock Holmes.”

Elise let out a high pitched giggle, shocking herself. This was the first time she’d laughed since losing Amy and Rory.

“Don't be clever, Strax. It doesn't suit you.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“I'm the clever one, you're the potato one.” The Doctor poked him between the eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now go away.”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes.” Strax chuckled at his own joke as he walked away.

“Oi! Shut up. You're not clever or funny and you've got tiny little legs!” The Doctor turned around and saw Clara watching them from a window. She waved and he waved back.

Clara gestured for them to come up.

The Doctor spun around, talking to himself. “Okay, just tell her you're leaving, you're not going up. Leaving. Not going up.” He spun back around and showed her five fingers and a thumbs up.

Clara closed the curtains and the Doctor smacked himself in the head. “What was that about? Five minutes, where did that come from?”

Elise found herself smiling as they walked towards the house.

“What?” the Doctor asked.

“Nothing.” Meeting Clara was the best thing to happen to her since arriving in Victorian England.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clara and the children ran into the next room.

“What do we do?” Digby asked.

“Franny, Franny, imagine her melting,” Clara told her.

“What?”

“In your head. Melt her.”

“I can't!”

“I'm getting impatient!” the ice woman shrieked.

The door burst open.

“You have been very naughty!”

“What about the man? You said the man was here, the cloud man and his daughter!” Digby cried.

“Well, he's not, is he?” Clara said.

“Where's the Doctor?”

“I don't know!”

A puppet popped up and said, “Doctor? Doctor? Doctor who?” The puppet soniced the ice woman, who shattered. The Doctor stood up. “That's the way to do it.”

Elise rolled her eyes and stood up, going over to Clara and the children. “Are you alright?” Elise asked.

“We’re fine. Thank you,” Clara said.

Elise smiled. At least someone was happy to have her around.

The Doctor walked over to the rug and soniced the wet spot.

“Where did she go? Will she come back?” Franny asked.

“No, don't worry. She's currently draining through your carpet,” the Doctor told them, “New setting. Anti-freeze. And you're very welcome, by the way.”

“I'm very grateful. I knew you'd come,” Clara said.

“No, you didn't, because I don't. Because this isn't the sort of thing I do any more.” He whipped off his scarf as he stepped in front of the mirror. “Next time you're in trouble, don't expect me to… Sorry, it's just. Didn't know I'd put it on.”

Elise smiled, seeing his straighten the bow tie, like his old self would have done. She hadn’t said anything when he put it on because it seemed like he was returning to the Doctor she knew. Ice was forming on the windows.

“Old habits.”

“It's cooler,” Clara said, noticing the change in the temperature.

The Doctor smirked. “Yeah, it is, isn't it? It is very cool. Bow ties are cool.”

“No, the room. The room's getting colder.”

Something was forming under the carpet.

“She's coming back!” Digby cried.

“What's she going to do? Is she going to punish me?” Franny asked.

The Doctor tried sonicing her. “Er, er, she's learnt not to melt. Of course, she's not really a governess, she's just a beast. She's going to eat you. Run.” The Doctor grabbed the children’s hands and they ran to the foyer.

A man came into the foyer. “Children, what is the expla…” He stopped seeing Elise and the Doctor. “Who the devil are you? What are you doing in my house?”

“It's okay. I am your governess' gentleman friend, and we've just been upstairs…kissing!”

Elise’s eyes went wide as she stared at the Doctor. What on earth made him say that?

The maid came running in. “Captain Latimer. In the garden, there's snowmen! And they're just growing out of nowhere, all by themselves. Look!” She threw open the front door and Madame Vastra stood there with Jenny.

“Good evening. I'm a Lizard Woman from the Dawn of Time, and this is my wife,” Vastra told her.

The maid screamed and turned around, running into Strax.

“This dwelling is under attack. Remain calm, human scum.”

The maid screamed again and promptly fainted.

The Doctor ran down the stairs and checked on the maid, before standing up and putting a hand on Captain Latimer’s shoulder. “So, any questions?” the Doctor asked.

Latimer turned to Clara. “You have a gentleman friend?”

Clara sighed.

“Vastra, what's happening?” The Doctor ran into the living room to look out the window.

“The snow is highly localized, and on this occasion not naturally occurring.”

“It's coming out of that cab parked by the gates,” Jenny explained.

“Sir, one pulver grenade would blow these snowmen to smithereens,” Strax said.

“They're made of snow, Strax. They're already smithereens. See, Clara? Our friends again,” the Doctor said.

“Clara? Who's Clara?” Latimer asked.

“Your current governess is in reality a former barmaid called Clara.”

The ice woman appeared on the stairs. “That's the way to do it!”

“Meanwhile your previous governess is now a living ice sculpture impersonating Mister Punch. Jenny, what have you got?”

Jenny threw a device that created a force field at the top of the stairs. “That should hold it.”

“Sir, this room. One observational window on the line of attack and one defendable entrance,” Strax told them, gesturing to the study.

“Right, everyone in there. Now. Move it. You, carry her,” the Doctor ordered.

“Nice to see you off your cloud and engaging again,” Vastra said as the Doctor soniced the force field.

“I'm not engaging again, I'm under attack.”

“You missed this, didn't you? I know Elise did.”

Elise smiled.

The Doctor gave Vastra a smile. “Shut up.”

They entered the study.

“Strax, how long have we got?” the Doctor asked.

“They're not going to attack. They made no attempt to conceal their arrival. An attack force would never abandon surprise so easily, and they're clearly in a defense formation.”

“Way, aye, aye. Well done, Straxy. Still got it, buddy.” He kissed Strax on the head.

“Sir, please do not noogie me during combat prep.”

“So there's something here they want,” Vastra said.

“The ice woman,” Clara deduced.

“Exactly,” the Doctor said.

“Why's she so important?” Jenny asked.

“Because she's a perfect duplication of human DNA in ice crystal form. The ultimate fusion of snow and humanity. To live here, the snow needs to evolve and she's the blueprint. She's what they need to become. When the snow melted last night, did the pond?”

“No,” Clara answered.

“Living ice that will never melt. If the snow gets hold of that creature on the stairs, it will learn to make more of them. It will build an army of ice. And it will be the last day of humanity on this planet.”

The doorbell rang.

The Doctor cracked his neck. “Stay here.”

Both Clara and Elise followed after him.

“Oi, I told you to stay in there,” he told Clara, “With Elise I’m used to it.”

“Oh, I didn't listen.”

“You do that a lot.”

“It's why you like me.”

“Who said I like you?”

Clara grabbed the Doctor and kissed him, shocking both Timelords. “I think you just did,” Clara said.

“You kissed me,” the Doctor argued.

“You blushed.”

“And with…this… Shut up.” The Doctor ran to the front door and opened it.

Dr. Simeon stood there. “Release her to us. You have five minutes.”

The Doctor closed the door. “We need to get her out of here but keep her away from them.”

“How?”

The Doctor grabbed an umbrella from a stand. “With this. Do I always have to state the obvious?”

“Those creatures outside, what are they?” Latimer asked.

“No danger to you, as long as I get that thing out of here. You, in there, now.” The Doctor went up the stairs and soniced the force field.

“What are you doing?” Clara asked.

“Between you and me, I can't wait to find out.”

The force field disappeared and reappeared behind them.

“Right, if you look after everyone here, then I can…” The Doctor realized Clara was standing next to him. “Clara!”

“Doctor!”

They managed to get around the ice woman and ran up the stairs.

“Stupid!”

“You were stupid, too!”

“I'm allowed. I'm good at stupid.”

“That's the way to do it!” the ice woman shrieked.

“Why does she keep saying that?” Clara asked.

“Mirroring. Random mirroring. We need to get on the roof,” the Doctor told her.

Clara turned around and grabbed the Doctor’s hand. “This way!”

“No, I do the hand grabbing. That's my job. That's always me!”

[sebbybooks]

Our Vintage Summers

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

"Damn me to hell

or take me to heaven,

but for God's sake do it now."

-n.r

~come back to me.~

Bare feet tucked away in the sand as my head tilted north of the Atlantic Ocean, I soaked up the warmth from the sunlight as it kissed me all over my face. My eyes were closed as I breathed in the evocative scent of the near sea breeze. I attentively listened to the soft symphony of waves crash back down in a rhythmic pattern. The salty crisp air permeated under my nose filling my bloodstream with great sorrow. It felt as though I was longing to be taken back to a good memory. Despite the island of Nantucket being a piece of my childhood for some unknown reason those memories felt like just an illusion. Almost as if it was only a fever dream.

"I can not believe Nana Florence left that huge ass estate all to you." My older sister Anya gaped. The disbelief echoed in her voiced woke me from my own state of disorient. Opening my eyes I slipped on a pair of shades and adverted my gaze away from the sun and looked out at the lighthouse in the distant. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, but still I knew a storm was brewing out there.

"I wasn't quite sure she even liked me. She was always so cold." I answered, still shocked by what I had just been given.

"She was a mean old bitch Sia. You can say it." Swallowing back her glass of bottle cream soda, Anya paused and stared off like she was trying to spot something that she had lost. "Besides it's not like she's gonna come out and haunt us. . . that would require her to care." Her tone was laced with sadness whether she would admit to it or not.

What feels like nearly a lifetime ago our parents would send us away to stay with our grandmother while they coasted around the globe every summer existing as if their children did not. Anya and I were left spending two months with a grandmother who acted as though we were unwanted guest who had to earn their keep. My older sister by just two years whose outspoken personality got her into more trouble than I care to even remember. Whereas I was always the meekly grandchild petrified of stepping out of line. What I got in return when she looked at me was annoyance like I was a stone in her shoe.

I couldn't do anything right in her eyes despite my efforts. That woman had an air about herself that exuded an unexplainable amount of bitterness I never even knew where it stemmed from. When it was finally time to return home I prayed and gave thanks to whoever was listening for freeing me from that house. Which is why I found it to be a complete and utter mind fuck that she left it all to me.

"I'm just surprised she actually wrote any of us in her will after not hearing from her in nearly fifteen years." Anya quickly jumped to her feet waving one arm in the arm in the air until the people she was flagging down finally caught ahold of her attention. Leading the way was her husband Gavin, and twins Remi and Justin who we have known since coming here as teens. Squealing and jumping into his arms like she hadn't seen her husband in months. Anya wrapped herself around Gavin and I had to turn my eyes away from their borderline pornographic kiss.

Plopping down next to me on the beach towel that was just about covered in sand was Remi. The Nguyen's use to own the beach home next door to my grandmother's and long ago I was thankful for their presence. For years Justin and Remi were the only bit of solace Anya and I had during those summers. Granted Anya had to teach me how to sneak out of the house I was always terrible at it every time. I threw all caution to the wind, because I would've done any an everything to get out that soulless house. There was something about it that made chills creep up my spine whenever I stepped through the door. To make it even creepier I'm pretty sure on one Fourth of July I could have sworn I saw her looking out of her window as the four us raced to get down to the beach.

"So I see after three years of marriage the honeymoon phase has not quite ended." Remi's glossy short black hair blew around her face before cascading back down in a stylish slanted bob. She was sitting so close to me I was smelling the fragrant scent of sweet mirabelle plums and jasmine. After knowing her for thirteen years I was starting to think it was just Remi's natural scent. At least one thing didn't change.

"I'm not sure if it's cute or sickening." When I looked back over at them Gavin had a death grip on Anya's ass.

"Are they always so..." Remi cocked her head to the side peering up at the two of them like she was viewing an anomaly.

"Clingy?" I chimed in.

Remi shook her head in disagreement. "Horny?" There was a moment of silence while we contemplated over the two of them before suddenly breaking out into a fit of laughter.

"Why don't you guys do us all a favor and get a room before you're arrested for public indecency." Justin said what we all were thinking as he fished a drink out from the cooler, and sat across from Remi and I in the sand. Finishing off his can of beer in one go, Justin peered into my eyes as he downed every last drop. I wasn't blind or immune to his good looks. His chiseled jaw and athletes body could make anyone swoon. There was alway this unspoken attraction that we shared ever since we were younger. It all sort of just went downhill the morning after my birthday during my very last summer spent in Nantucket. I remember it well, because it was the day I gave him my virginity while at the same time he wanted to give me his heart. At the time on paper he was the perfect guy. Smart, funny, loyal, Justin could charm his way through a nunnery if he wanted to. So in the end why the hell did I turn him down?

Tossing the crushed up can back into the mini cooler buried in the sand. I noticed the warm smile that reaches Justin's chestnut brown eyes transform into a triumphant smirk. I was busted. I pressed my sunglasses closer to my eyes somehow thinking it would shield me from my embarrassment. I was at least grateful that our friendship stood the test of time. Throughout the years he always described me as being a bolt of lightning. An untamable force of nature that was strikingly beautiful to the naked eye, but if I let someone close enough to touch me I'd leave them scorched and in pieces. The only reason I never took it as an insult because the answer was simple. . . he was right.

After two failed long term relationships I was starting to sense a pattern at my own creation. The men I dated always loved me more that I could love them. It wasn't like I was opposed to romance, happiness and the other sappy shit that follows.

Eventually it all just boiled down to my inability to love them as much as they loved me. I couldn't fully give myself over to my exes because I knew deep down they weren't him. Now I didn't know who this guy was. A figment of my imagination maybe? All that I knew about him was that he clearly only existed in the back of my mind. There was a voice in my head guiding me along the way telling me to just wait and the one I was waiting on will be there. I couldn't explain this feeling to anyone else even if I tried.

Sliding down from Gavin like he was a pole Anya pulled on his arm as she sauntered closer to the rest of us. "I mean we could considering little sis has eight unoccupied bedrooms behind us." Gavin boasted.

"Your wife's grandmother just passed away and you're already talking about having sex in the house she died in?" Justin's eyebrows bunched in confusion.

"She didn't die in the house man." He muses. Gavin's smile was wide and unbothered. He was pretty as he was clueless.

"What are you planning to do with it?" Remi asked me, though her primary focus was giving all her love and attention to my four year old Dalmatian Memphis.

I let out a puff of air because I honestly didn't know what to do with the place. It was a beautiful three story classic Victorian styled beach house built in 1883 that faced the ocean with a perfect view of the lighthouse. On the outside the seventy five hundred square foot architecture was absolutely stunning. It looked as though it was a tiny gray castle with a white wrap around deck on every level. You could see so much from the viewpoint . By the way it was positioned you could barely be spotted.

"Earth to Sia!" Anya called out. "Are you alright? You have been zoning out so much today?" She added. She was standing in front of me bending so low I worried her investments would topple out of her tank top.

"Yeah I'm fine. It's just been a long week that's all." I answered. It wasn't exactly a lie, with everything that has happened with our grandmother these past couples of weeks flew by in a blink of an eye. It was weird knowing that she wasn't somewhere in the house making sure there wasn't dust or fun anywhere. At her funeral I don't even recall seeing a single tear fall from anyone's face not even my mother's. Everything was so touch and go. Was I weird for being the only who felt a tinge of sadness?

Clapping her hands ecstatically Anya swiftly resumed to her cheerful spirits. Her empathy towards me lasted about ten seconds. "Right!" Putting her hands on her hips my five foot four sister stood in the middle of us. "Movie night starts at six on the dot."

Snapping my head up so fast I'm pretty sure I pulled a muscle in my neck. "What?"

Rolling her eyes before sporting her former cheerleader grin. "Movie night like old times." She spoke like it was an obvious suggestion.

"That use happened at our house." Justin corrected.

She snorts. "Your point?"

"Won't that be weird?" Remi's eyed bounced from person to person. When no one said anything she asked, "Isn't her stuff still in the house?"

"Quit trying to force the fun out of it! It's not like the five of us are ever all together anymore." Anya addresses the group. "The years here were shitty and the only good memories I have were spent with you guys. For old times sake just say yes."Without another word she plopped back down sulking like a child.

For a moment we all just stared off into different directions lost in thought. We might have not been as close like when we were younger but I knew her well enough to know she was hurting. Like how the old saying goes people grieve in different ways and acting as though she was fine was perhaps her way of handling it.

"As long as it's not Dirty Dancing. You ruined that movie by making us watch it a hundred times." I released a fortifying breath, before plastering a smile on my face for my sister's sake. Immediately I saw the features of her face soften as she grew excited once more.

"Woah let's not get too hasty. I for one can not turn down the chance of watching the late great Patrick Swazye woo me through the screen." Remi supplies.

Stretching forward Justin says, "I don't know about being wooed, but you can count me in." He nods his head in Anya's direction while giving all his attention to me.The butterflies that tried to form in my stomach quickly disintegrated then were reborn as moths. I knew it. There was something officially wrong with me.

"I'm not going to lie Johnny was a handsome man. If I was Baby I'd risk it too." In true Gavin fashion he spouts out the most unexpected remarks.

More chatter erupts and from practice I have learned to tune it all out. Just when I did I noticed up ahead my mother was engaged in conversation with a man I had never seen before. I don’t know why I was so transfixed by his appearance. From the distance I could barely make out his face, but still there was something so familiar about him. I couldn’t look away once I became aware of his presence. It was a strange emotion to have over someone that I’d never met before. I inhaled sharply, my brain started feel fuzzy, and there was a chaotic sensation moving around in stomach. It began to make its way up spreading all over me practically paralyzing my entire body.

Believing he sensed me gawking at the two of them I was jolted out of my daze. Both of their attention turned towards me as they made their way down the beach. It was like a burst charge of fireworks slamming against chest. I was barely breathing from anticipation and excitement wrapped into one. The accelerated rhythm of my heartbeat drummed so fast, you’d swear I was high off recreational drugs. I had never felt like this before or maybe I have and just forgotten the rush.

My mother who was slightly a few steps ahead of the guy marched through the sand like fire was on her ass. “Girls!” She hollered, even though we were just a few feet away. Anya immediately stopped talking meeting our mother halfway. I swear those two were peas in a pod. They matched the same energy, shared the same mannerisms, hell they looked so much alike you’d think I was adopted.

“Hello hello hello !” Mother rushingly greeted everyone. “Can I grab ahold of everyone’s attention for a quick second?” She began clutching onto her pearls and I mean that in literal sense. My mother wore those particular string of pearls whenever she was in Nantucket. I don’t know why but it became a thing of hers. Usually when she began to toy with it profusely meant something was eating at her mind. Though maybe this time I was overthinking it. After all the only reason any of us were in this forsaken place was simply due to the fact her mother insisted the reading of her will and testament be held here. “I’d like to introduce you all to this fine young gentleman.”

“You got that right.” Anya eyed him like he was sex and food rolled into one. Something you want and something you can’t live without. Flirting was second nature to her. She couldn’t help herself if she tried, even though her husband was sitting right beside her.

My mother turned her attention narrowing her eyes on my older sister as if we were back at the age where her penetrating scowl could evoke obedience. Doing her impression of a fake laugh she returned her focus on the man in the Ralph Lauren beach fit. "This is Sebastian." Mother cleared her throat before continuing. "Your grandmother requested that he join us today. It has come to my attention that Sebastian was a cherished friend of my mother."

"What in the hell did you guys talk about?" Gavin's attempt of comedy was met with silence. A bewildered Anya spoke first. "How did you meet my Nana Florence?" My sister asked what I'm sure we all thought to ourselves.

Sebastian hesitated almost unsure of his unspoken words. "I mostly just helped with the renovations with her house and did what I could when she needed assistance with stuff. I apologize for not being here earlier. By the looks of traffic everyone was leaving town when I was coming in." His eyes found mine and I stared back with a blank expression like I was hooked onto every syllable that he spoke. I quickly looked away and toyed with the loose thread on my denim shorts so I would not come off as someone with a staring problem.

"Even though I'm late I would like to offer my deep condolences. She was an incredible woman who I know will be greatly missed." He continued, at least someone was finally sounding sincere.

My mother let out a laugh that came at such inappropriate timing. "Indeed." Her smile dimmed. I'm sure her mind was racing with the question of how long it would take to get a glass of wine in her hands. Apart from the background noise coming from the beachgoers there was still awkward silence that came on. Out of nowhere Memphis jolts up besides me and I was worried something bit him. Before I could get to my feet to check on my dog I see that he rushes over to Sebastian.

Sebastian drops to his knees and embraces an excitable Memphis as though they've just reunited from being apart. I stare at the sight unable to wrap my head around the scene. Don't get me wrong he was a loving and sweet dog, but he didn't take too well to strangers. Ever. He licked and jumped all around Sebastian I thought he was going to knock the wind out of the poor guy.

"I'm sorry about him." I pulled Memphis off of him hooking his leash to his collar. I angled my body so that I was in front of him.

"No worries." Sebastian says as he wipes the front of his pants with his hands. "I'm only sorry I had my mouth open during that last part." His faced scrunched in a playful manner and I had to send little memos to brain reminding myself to breath.

"He will try to french kiss you in a heartbeat." I stated. "The gentle giant will wash your face in saliva if you let him." Good grief what was I saying.

Sebastian laughs, our gaze holding an eerie sense of familiarity. Even if years were to have gone on by there's no way possible I could forget those pair of eyes. "I have to remember that for next time." Even the sound of his voice sounded as though I have heard it a million times. A favorite song you remember the melody to by heart but for some unfathomable reason can't conjure the lyrics as hard as you try to remember.

"Have we met before?" I bounced from one leg to another trying to adjust my feet to the burning sand. "I just can't help but wonder if I have seen you before." I weakly explained. I stared into his eyes looking for some indication that I wasn't going senile so soon at my age.

"Yeah in her dreams." Anya mumble loud enough for all to hear.

Sebastian stilled for a moment. "Sia right?" Sebastian asked clearly ignoring my sister's comment. I nodded my head yes. "I recognize your face from the all the photos from this album your grandma showed me of you." He pinned me under his unwavering stare and the heat that I felt was no longer from the sand as I felt it in places it didn't touch.

I quickly lost my smile for two reasons. One reason being that I was more than surprised she even uttered my name around strangers and not just pretended I didn't exist altogether. She was not the boasting type of grandparent that bragged on her grandchildren. Now that I think of it she never even complimented me on anything ever. Secondly, why in the everliving hell would she show Sebastian photos of us?

"Puberty wasn't exactly kind to me growing up. So I can only imagine the pictures she could've shown you." I swallowed hard. I was starting to inwardly cringe at the thought of him seeing my most awkward stages of me during my youth.

"I am going to have to disagree with you." Sebastian said quietly as he leaned towards me. In my head I rehearsed what to say next but the ability to actually make sound felt impossible. Filling in the silence between us Sebastian finally answered my questioned.

"Other than that no I don't believe ours paths have ever crossed before today." He blinked once and a slow smile formed on his face before saying, "Which I now realize was a terrible existence I was living." Sebastian cocked his head to the side, looking at me with a curious expression.

A weird tiny laugh fluttered out of my mouth almost like how burps come up. This wasn't me. I didn't fawn over men that turned me into a lovesick puppy, and yet low and behold there I was metaphorically shitting my pants at the sight of him. It had suddenly dawned on me that my group of friends had been silently watching us the whole time and that my mother somehow managed to disappear. I turned around to face them and all but one person stared back at Sebastian and I with mischievous grins. Justin however eyed Sebastian with visible disdain.

"Hey Sebastian you should totally stop by the house later today and taste my sister's cupcakes." My eyes bulged at Anya's bold innuendo. If my eyes could throw daggers she would be dead in an instant. Clearly seeing the look of mortification painting my face she quickly tried to backtrack. "You see Sia is a pastry chef and her vanilla butter cream cupcakes are practically little clouds of heaven." She choked back a fit of giggles.

I was afraid to turn my head to look at Sebastian. I just hoped his face didn't mirror my horrified expression. Blocking Anya out of view quick on her feet Remi stood to my side. "It's a silly tradition we have which newcomers are welcomed to. We just gorge out on food while watching Anya approved films." Remi said to him. I was still one hundred percent embarrassed but very much grateful for Remi.

"Then the dicks to chicks ratio will finally be even." Gavin added eagerly. I rolled my eyes as I shook my head. I started to say something but Sebastian beat me to it.

"I can't." For some reason when he spoke it sounded like the scratching sound a record player makes when it abruptly stops. The question of "why" was floating in the air. His answer oddly made me feel disappointed which I'm sure he could tell.

"It's just that I wanted to leave out before the weather could get a chance to trap me in." Aha! So I wasn't the only one who could sense the calm before the storm.

Out of nowhere finally speaking up Justin rose out from the sand. "Maybe next time." His hint of sarcasm did not go unnoticed. I wasn't sure why Justin was giving off douchebag behavior it certainly wasn't like him. Sebastian eyes went from me to Justin then back to me again. Sensing no threat by the way I was doing my best to shift further away from Justin, Sebastian bent back down to get on Memphis's seeing level.

Stuffing his hand in his pocket he pulled out a piece of parchment paper. Opening it up he broke a golden brown cookie in half before offering it to Memphis. Inhaling it in one bite, Sebastian quickly stood back up petting him on the head one last time. "He was only after the cookie in my pocket." Sebastian said to me. I wasn't sure why it felt like an ominous statement but it did.

"It was nice meeting you all." Before he turned away he looked over his shoulder at my grandmother's house that sat up on the hill. I watched him walk away and a piercing pain squeezed at my heart. I brought my hand up to my chest to massage the area that caused me actual pain. Whatever the hell was happening I could begin to feel it. Like a part of me was missing and I just now realized it.

"Well he was weird." Gavin blew out a whistle.

Later that night I tried to ignore that sensation that crept up on me. I baked to my hearts desire and even that couldn't silence the reoccurring voice in my head urging me to not let it go. To not forget him. Everyone came back over to the house as planned. I tried to coexist alongside them, pretending that I was fine. For the most part it worked. I didn't see my mother again after she vanished from the beach. I called both of my parents asking them if they knew anything else about the man from earlier. No one could supply any bit of information that I could use. The only thing my mother did mention was that her lawyer confirmed that she had written Sebastian a letter and that was all he could disclose.

Anya somehow managed to squeeze in more than one movie to everyone's dismay. Not only did we have to endure Dirty Dancing, but we had to sit through Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. We all sullenly agreed to one more before calling it a night and then on perfect cue suddenly a loud crack of thunder roared throughout the night. Before we knew it the power went out. Loud pelts of rain fell on top of the roof like bullets. The sounds omitting from the ocean sounded terrifying. Turning on our flashlights from our phones we were all gathered in the adjacent room from the dining area.

"You all know what this means right?" Gavin's face hardened. He stalked backwards on his heels as he backed into the flatscreen. The white light from his phone created a shadow around his face. "Say it!" Anya's voice came out like a nervous screech. Gavin nodded his head profusely, placing his hand on his hip his face adopted a disappointment expression. "I no longer have to endure that Cooper guy's singing."

From what I could make out in the dark Anya's face scrunched up in anger. Prodding a finger to his chest. "I thought you were going to say something serious."

"I just did!" He retorted. Just when I was convinced that I was going to have to break up a meaningless argument loud pounding came from the other side of the front door. All of our heads whipped towards the archway that led you to the entrance of the house. Instinctively Justin and Gavin exchanged a look before stepping in front of the rest of us. Anya poked her way between them running to the door before anyone could stop her. Gavin was on her tale calling after her, while Justin and Remi followed. Whoever it could've been was more than likely a neighbor or a beach straggler. Figuring they had a handle on whoever was at the door I went off on the pursuit of light.

Considering the fact that my grandmother hated candles as much as Frankenstein's monster hated fire I knew there was a huge chance I wasn't going to find anything. I walked up the stairs using a dim light that barely guided my steps. The house had always seemed familiar. Yet quiet and alarming all in the same breath.

I spotted for signs of significant changes that Sebastian could have made at my grandmother's request. Nothing looked remotely different. In fact the place looked older and shabbier than before. The black and gold foliage patterned wallpaper peeled around the corners of the wall. Cobwebs took up the ceiling and the hallway reeked of old books and soddened leaves. The cherrywood hardwood floor creaked beneath my feet as I took very slow and cautious step. I don't know why but the door at the end of the hallway called to me first.

There was not much that I remembered about this house. I wasn't quite sure what I was even going to see once I opened it. Unshakable nerves ripped through me as I pushed in the door. My heartbeat suddenly steadied when I saw that the room was nothing out of the ordinary. I shook my head at the silly thoughts I cultivated in my mind. I use to be afraid of this place and I suppose old habits die hard.

It felt like a scene in Harry Potter film as I stood in middle of the doorway holding up my small light from my phone in the center of the darkness. I angled my phone around the room looking for storage bins that could contain anything useful. The bedroom looked like it has been not lived in for quite some time. The bed looked sunken in and if I were to sit on it I'm pretty sure dust would form around me. Not much of anything was in sight apart from the dresser and a full length wooden mirror that leaned against the wall.

The only thing hanging in the small closet were white plastic hangers and linen sheets on the top shelf. Closing the door to the closet I released my pent up sigh because there was absolutely nothing of use in the room. I was ready for this night to be over so that I could return back to my version of normalcy that was miles and miles from here. Turning around accidentally bumping into the mirror. Rushing to catch it from falling over I nearly tripped over my feet trying to hold the heavy thing up. Feeling very out of shape I headed for the door when I saw that a piece of folded paper had fallen onto the floor. Turning the light back on my phone to see better I bent down to retrieve it. It was a crumpled up old photograph.

When I opened it immediately their faces nearly knocked the air right out of my lungs. I stared at it in disbelief trying to wrap my head around the imagery. It was fucking impossible that what I was seeing was real. The photo looked dated like it might have been taken many decades ago. As it fell from my hands and I stepped away from it like it was lethal. A humming sound passed through the house and suddenly the lights flickered back on.

"Sia!" Anya yelled my name from downstairs. I was too stunned to answer her. "Get your butt back down here! Sebastian is here!" As clear as day I heard what my sister was saying, but that photo held me captive.

The ink was faded but I knew that place far too well. The lighthouse in the picture was unmissable. It was the people inside the picture that threw me for a loop. Standing in the sand on the beach with a beagle wrapped in the woman's arms, she was embraced in a kiss with a man who looked like it could have very well been Sebastian. An from what I could see of the woman’s face it looked identical to mine.

[mooberg]

Among the Statues

Chapter 4: Polishing Stones

And here’s chapter 4 friends! Not much to say about this one except I’m sorry. Don’t read if you’ve had a bad day but I feel like that’s just standard operation with my stuff now...

Word Count: 4017

No warnings except angst

Enjoy!

The sky was just barely beginning to lighten when they arrived back on campus. Gamma didn't say much. She had learned pretty early on that when Horns got like this, he just needed space. But that was a commodity they couldn’t afford in that moment, so she kept him moving forward, but at his own speed. The sprawling fields that made up the campus grounds came slowly into view as they crested a hill. Between trees and buildings, statues dotted the greenspaces. This was a sight they had become uncomfortably familiar with in such a short span of time. Gone was the hope for some sort of movement, some sort of break from this curse. But replacing it was determination. As they walked in step, Gamma glanced over to him, seeing that same emotion spark in him.

“We have to keep strong.” She murmured. “For them.”

Horns nodded slowly, taking in a deep breath. “For them.”

The dorm's curtains were drawn shut, no light slipping past to give away their position. With the violent confirmation of another unfrozen virus existing somewhere in the Capitol, and likely the one who caused this whole mess, they couldn't risk being found. Gamma had even elected to ditch the motorcycle early and walk into campus, avoiding any attention drawn by the noise. If the two of them were responsible for leading someone back to their team, they’d never forgive themselves.

The team was still awake when they entered, collapsed in the living room defeated and deflated. It was easy to read the worry and frustration on their faces. They had never done anything to quite this scale before, and the toll it took on them was great. Psi stood when he caught sight of Horns, his expression unreadable.

“I know, I know.” Horns sighed, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “That was stupid and reckless and impulsive, and I shouldn't have run. I just...”

Psi remained neutral as Horns' hands dropped to his sides, the rest of him deflating along with them.

“I've never... I haven't... all those people. Gone. And we were too late- I was too late... I just don't know.”

“I understand.” Psi's softened tone had Horns looking up in surprise. “That is no easy thing for anyone, particularly the lot of you. It is different for us. Gamma, myself, and... the others. We have seen... we know. In your case, I should not forget that. I am thankful you have not experienced these things, until today in any case, and I hope they only change you for the better. Many lives were lost because of this, let us continue forward for them.”

“We have to keep going.” Gamma added. “With all the craziness going on this is far from the last thing we'll be up against.”

“But we don't even know what we're up against.” Equo countered. “Or who.”

“Maybe if Horns has another vision...?” Jolly offered.

Horns nodded. “Could be some more clues, I guess.”

“Then you should all get some rest, if you can.” Psi said. “I can see in your faces how tired you are. You have done good work today. We will strategize where to go from here when you wake.”

For the second time that night, the team split to their respective rooms. Horns shut his door with a sigh, resisting the urge to hit his head against it. He let his emotions get the better of him, and that could have cost them so much more than just some wasted time. This was not going to be an easy situation, and he needed to keep his head on straight or there was no telling what could happen. He turned, heading to his bed, as a calming scent met him. The little spider plant Psi had given him sat on his desk, now inexplicably sprouting lavender. It reminded Horns of the numerous times Psi had aided him in his meditations, including that fateful day he discovered his mind diving powers. The very power that now possibly held the key to ending this curse. He smiled as he turned off the light, thanking his mentor silently as a deep sleep took him.

 ~~~*~~~

 “... which begs the question of why. Why would someone freeze an entire city- or... well we still don't know how far this goes. But why freeze an entire city and just do nothing?”

“But they didn't do nothing.”

“True. But then. Then. If you're going to freeze and then... smash an entire city, why do it little pieces at a time? Why not just steamroll everything? If that is your intention. And then if that's not your intention, why freeze anybody at all? Someone with access to magic this powerful could easily have controlled everyone in a multitude of different ways. Why frozen?”

“Maybe it's Elsa.” Horns suggested, groggily stepping out of his room to Jolly's conspiracy rambles. She, Callow and Glitch were in the living room.

“But if it was Elsa, she wouldn't have frozen everybody, now would she?” Jolly continued, a wild glint in her eye. “And when she realized what she'd done, wouldn't she have tried to reverse it? Or reached out for help? Or made her presence known in some way?”

“Well there aren't any reanimated snowmen wandering around and the skies are clear so I think we can rule that one out.” Callow said, his voice suggesting Jolly had been at this for a while.

“So then if it's not Elsa, who is it?” Jolly asked. “Who would have frozen an entire city- or is it not freezing at all? Is it something else? Is it-”

“Jolly?” Horns softly cut her off and she glanced over at him with wild eyes. “I don't have nearly enough coffee in me for this. Do you think you could cool it on the Unsolved rambles here?”

“Fine, but we'll continue this later.” She pointed at him in a way that somehow managed to be threatening.

He just nodded, heading into the kitchen as his nose registered the smell of coffee. Callow watched him go, popping up on his knees on the couch to ask over the cushions,

“How'd you sleep? Get any spooky-ooky visions?”

“They are premonitions, you dick, and no. Nothing.” Horns replied. “Where're Gamma and Psi?”

“Sleeping.” Glitch said, glancing over at the closed office door. “Cal and I kicked 'em out when we woke up a couple hours ago. Figured we'd let them rest too, they need it just as much as we do.”

Horns just nodded in understanding, pouring way too much sugar for anyone but him into his coffee before returning to the living room. A small alert noise sounded from Callow's tablet where it rested on the coffee table, drawing everyone's attention.

“Ah shit.” Callow dove for the device, swiping it open quickly.

“What does your padlet have to say?” Horns asked.

“It's a tablet, Horns.” Jolly corrected.

“Whatever, technology's weird.” Horns dismissed her.

“Ok Victorian-er.” Glitch smirked.

“Movement detected in Que Village. I synced our surveillance to my tablet so I could monitor on the go. Even after all this is done, I'll be able to see anywhere in the Capitol any time I-” Callow cut himself off, quickly glancing between his teammates. “Uh... Psi definitely does not know about this.”

“Cal-”

“And it's going to stay that way unless a certain someone wants Psi to find out what happened to the cactus Sammy bought us.” Callow said pointedly. Glitch's mouth shut with an audible click.

“Should we wake the others?” Jolly asked. “What's the commotion?”

“I just got coffee...” Horns grumbled quietly.

Callow was silent for a few moments, swiping quickly between things on his screen. Finally, he sighed, “no. It was just some deer.”

“Good. I'm finishing this coffee.” Horns continued to grumble.

“So what you're saying is, we have no new leads.” Glitch huffed, staring dejectedly at the ceiling.

“Yes, but why is this happening anyway?” Jolly asked. “What possible motive-”

“Jolly oh my god.” Callow cut her off.

“Look, I'm just saying.” Jolly held her hands up innocently.

“If it were me, and I had that kind of power, there's definitely a few dozen people I'd want to freeze so I didn't have to worry about them being mean to me, or getting to me, or think about them in any way ever again. I'm not saying I'd smash them, necessarily, but-” Horns cut himself off, glancing up to three surprised expressions as he registered what he was actually saying. “Uh... I mean... y'know, people suck and all and some people wouldn't be missed- uh not that I'd do anything to them or anything, but it's crossed my mind- I'm just going to shut up.”

“Might wanna chug the rest of that coffee, Horny.” Glitch suggested. “You have no filter when you're tired.”

“He makes a fair point though.” Callow said. “For someone to go after everyone in a city, they aren't trying to get back at specific individuals, they're trying to get back at the city itself.”

“We're looking for a deeply angry person.” Jolly agreed. “Someone like that... there's really no telling what they'd do next.”

 ~~~*~~~

 The two of them slept a dreamless sleep, limbs tangled together in a desperate attempt to hang on to something. Anything. Whatever they still had left. Psi grabbed hold of Gamma the minute they found warmth under the comforter of his futon, not letting go even as the two fell asleep. An exhausted kind of rest that came from a day of suppressed raw emotions. Fear, anxiety, loneliness. Their family had been bigger once. They, the 99 that remained, couldn't afford to lose another. But staring into that courtyard and not knowing if that orange was Tripoli or the shop owner three doors down...

And Psi, in his deepest thoughts, can't help but think how much easier it would be with her there. Tripoli, Foxtrot, anyone. And he wakes, tears silently sliding down his cheeks, mingling with Gamma's. He wants his family. He wants Rho. Yoke. Kilogramme. He wants his parents. With his eyes closed, he can almost pretend the arms wrapped around him are Sammy's. At least he knew Sammy was safe. But everyone else...

Gamma's arms tighten around him in her groggy state, thinking for just a moment it's Beta. Waiting for just a moment for the twins to burst in and demand her attention. But she knows. She's already felt the absences across the mind link. She just wants to talk to Juliette again. Hear her comforting voice soothing her worries. She can almost feel the warmth of Quebec wrapping her up in one of those hugs that makes the world melt away. But the world doesn't melt away. She opens her eyes and blinks groggily until the fog of tears clears. Until she can look up and see Psi. Her brother. The only other one left.

Slowly his eyes open too. Slowly, the two of them face the world. Slowly, he pulls her in closer. And the tears don't stop. Not yet. Loss doesn't work like that, even if it's not technically loss. It's as good as.

These are the thoughts that sustain their grief until there's no tears left.

But then Psi remembers Sammy's laugh. Gamma remembers Quebec's proud smile. Psi remembers Sammy's soft voice in the morning. Gamma remembers Beta playing fetch with all their dogs. They remember the mansion, and how it was never truly quiet. They remember Victor humming to himself as something bubbled on the stove. They remember Prep scaring them in the middle of the night when she hung from the ceiling. They remember Liverpool singing to his heart’s content. They remember feeling at home. Finding a family. Feeling safe.

And they get up. They wipe away the tears and square their shoulders. They have a job to do. They have a city to save.

They have a family to save.

 ~~~*~~~

 The rest of the team woke eventually, slowly filing into the now quiet living room. The mood was still low from their nighttime excursion, the memories fresh in their minds. They kept themselves distracted in their own ways, but the waiting was uncomfortable.

“See anything last night?” Equo asked Horns cautiously when she flopped into an armchair, somehow managing not to spill her coffee.

“No, but... now that I’ve had some time to wake up and think about it…” He frowned, letting out a nasally sigh. “I felt weird all night.”

“Weird how?” Gamma leaned over the back of the couch.

“Like... restless.” Horns said. “Like I couldn't relax, I didn't feel safe.”

“I mean... we kind of all feel like that right now.” Glitch replied.

“Yeah... I guess so.”

“What're we supposed to do now?” Jolly asked Psi as he, too, slipped into the living room, sitting on the ottoman under the TV.

Psi and Gamma shared a glance. “With no new leads or inclinations, our best bet would be to patrol the city.”

“The whole city?” Equo exclaimed.

“But,” Gamma cut in, “since most of you are inexperienced in that field, and since Callow's set up surveillance, that doesn't seem necessary.”

“Besides, this person could strike anywhere in Dashland.” Psi added.

“So... we just sit here?” Glitch slumped into the couch.

“That about sums it up.” Gamma confirmed.

“Well I’m going to meditate.” Horns said. “If I dive any of you, I'm so-”

His words were cut off by the sharp alert once again blaring from Callow's tablet.

“What is that?” Psi asked cautiously, familiar with Callow's antics.

“Surveillance.” The gator virus responded quickly, not focusing on his mentor. “Linked the two. Movement detected...”

“Is it deer again?” Glitch asked wryly.

Callow ignored her, swiping furiously at his tablet in a completely different manner from last time. At his silence, the whole team tensed.

“I don't... know.” He said finally. “There's movement but I can't tell what. And it's getting closer.”

“How close?” Gamma asked lowly.

“About... 50 kilometers from here.”

“That's close.” Equo breathed.

“We should go investigate.” Gamma decided, standing straighter to assume a more authoritative image. “Everyone gear up, I want us out in ten or less.”

The team rushed away quickly, gathering any necessary equipment. Horns stopped Callow in the hallway.

“Are there... any densely populated areas near there?” He asked.

“No, it's mostly just forest. Let me see...” Callow buried his nose back in his device and Horns waited with little patience. “Actually, here. It's close to campus. Rotherglen Park, it's got a lot of picnickers.”

“Let me see.” Horns reached for the tablet, thankful when Callow released it easily.

“No, you can't- Horns, hold it by the edges so you don't swipe-”

“I got it, I got it-”

“Just- come on, let me get you back to the right screen-”

“I can do it-”

“No you can't-”

“Yes I can-”

“We've been over this. Just- there.”

Horns shot him a half glare before focusing in on the screen. His pulse peaked violently as he gasped, “I know this place. I know- I've seen it before. Gamma, Psi!”

“What?” Gamma spun around to him, Psi leaned out from behind her, his interest also piqued.

“They're going to hit Rotherglen Park.” Horns said. “I'm sure of it.”

“How sure?” Psi asked.

“I'd bet my life.” He replied, the echo of “you may have to” clear in his mind.

 ~~~*~~~

 Clouds had blown over the sky, heavy with the promise of rain, by the time the team hit the woods. It was hard to tell whether the stillness of the forest was due to an impending storm, or something bigger. Horns had never experienced such quiet among these trees before, and he found himself bracing for impact.

“How much further?” Peony asked over the comms.

“Just over a kilometer. Should start to see the trees thin soon.” Callow replied, tucking his tablet back inside his bag.

“Get low and stay quiet.” Gamma ordered. “We're not going to let whoever's doing this harm anyone else, but we need to get a read on them before spooking them off.”

Horns gave a nervous hum. “Got a bad feeling about this...”

“Let's just hope it's not like last time.” Callow said.

The trees did start to thin a few minutes later, allowing glimpses into the field beyond. Through the branches, they began to make out shapes. Faces. People; still as intact and frozen as the rest. In their own ways, the members of Gamma-Psi reacted in relief.

“Looks like we beat 'em here.” Glitch commented.

“And somehow I don't like that thought.” Equo replied.

“Now we wait.” Psi said. “Fan out and hide.”

The team did as directed, scattering along the northeastern edge of the park. Their footsteps were dulled by the now gently falling rain, and they were all secretly thankful for at least something to cut the silence. Thunder rolled far off in the distance, solidifying the threat of a heavy storm.

“You gotta admit, the ambiance is pretty dope.” Glitch said.

“Quiet, Glitch.” Psi scolded over a smattering of agreements from the team. Gamma just smiled at his ever-suffering sigh.

A resounding crack echoed from the south end of the park, louder than thunder but just as alarming. A maelstrom of swirling wind and debris broke free of the trees, leaving a swatch of broken branches in its wake. One of these trees, a large old oak, broke toward the parkland.

“That family...”

“It's gonna smash them!”

“Psi...”

The 99er acted with barely a twitch, branches from a nearby tree growing rapidly to entwine with the oak. The whole team let out a breath of relief. The small windstorm slowed in the middle of the field, noticing the change in the treeline. There was an area clear of any viruses, and it began to lower itself down into the clearing, shrinking in size as it approached the ground. It burst with a nearly audible pop, dropping the virus who had been inside the last few feet to the ground. And finally, Gamma-Psi could see just who they were up against.

Her dark brown hair fell about her shoulders haphazardly with the dying wind, coming to rest on a black cloak covering a simple red and black dress. Her dark skin was accented by fine features, and dark red veins, which pulsed quickly as she looked around with eyes that could not keep her soul at bay. The deep red wisps floated up to mingle with the falling rain.

“There's no use hiding from me!” She called out, voice strong but soft. “I know you are there.”

“What do we do?” Glitch asked over the comms.

Psi and Gamma shared the briefest of looks before he stood, striding his way out of the treeline.

“There you are.” The woman greeted almost warmly. “I must say you are not what I was expecting.”

“I am sorry to disappoint.” Psi replied, crossing his arms in front of him. “What, perchance, were you expecting?”

She just hummed thoughtfully. “So, do you have a name, tall dark and handsome?”

“Call me Nightshade.” Psi said. “And yourself?”

“You may call me Dragon, my dear.” She offered. “Now are you going to bring out your friends, or shall I?”

“How do you know I am not alone?” He asked.

“I know who resisted my spell.” Dragon leaned forward with a smile just a little too sweet. “And you are definitely not it.”

Psi held her gaze for a moment as he mulled over the decision. Eventually he let out a small sigh, waving the team forward without looking.

Dragon took in the team as they emerged with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “My, my, quite the group you have here.”

“Well, you have raised some concern.” Psi said.

“What do you want?” Jolly asked. “Why are you doing this?”

“My reasons are my own, sweetheart. I just want to know-” She cut herself off as her eyes landed on Horns. He had picked his way through the grass slowly as his stomach roiled with nerves. He looked up and froze as their gazes locked, intrigue washing over her face as she finished, “if you're going to stop me.” He squirmed under her gaze. It felt like she was dissecting him and undressing him at the same time.

“You're hurting innocent people.” He spoke up, trying to steel himself. “We can't let that stand.”

“Oh, my dear.” She jeered. “No one in this world is ever truly innocent.”

Psi cleared his throat and Dragon looked back to him. “Regardless, we wish to see this taking of lives come to an end. What can we do?”

“What can you do?” Dragon echoed mockingly. “You can stay out of my way.”

Psi barely had time to react as she slammed her foot into the ground, spikes of ice erupting forward to barrel into his chest. He managed to lessen the blow with vines sprouting from his arms but hit the ground hard as Dragon swiveled to face the others. Gamma shot up into the air, ready to strike as the team on the ground moved to retaliate. They all went to strike, falling back on the meticulous training of their mentors. She had quick reflexes, however, managing to rebuke them with a gust of wind, or a flash of ice.

The team froze at the familiar sound of Gamma’s laser canons firing off, waiting for the shots to land. Dragon threw up a wall of ice just in time, blocking her attack. When Gamma paused, Dragon threw the ice her way, freezing her wings solid. Psi and his venus fly traps rushed to catch her, the rest of the team momentarily distracted. That was all the time Dragon needed. Horns' attention had not wavered from her, but her intensity scared him, so he'd kept his distance. He watched with absolute dread as wind began to swirl around her, giving her a moment of protection as she murmured something too soft for anyone to hear. And he knew. Somehow, he just knew.

“No, don't-!”

There was a flash of bright blue-white energy, the wind bursting around her once again with an audible pop. The field once again lay still, seven new statues added to the garden. Horns had shied away from the blast, curling in on himself for protection from the debris caught up in the wind. He stood, taking in the sight of his team back in the terrifying state he'd found them just a day before.

“What did you do- what did you do to them?” Horns shouted. “Stop, let them go!”

“Hush now, my little psychic.” Dragon cooed at him. “It's just you and me.”

“What do you want?” Horns asked, stepping back guardedly.

She matched his step, not letting him gain any distance. “Oh, nothing yet. Soon, but not yet. I still have more to do before I can deal with you.”

“What are you planning?” He gripped his dagger tighter.

She brushed his question off, instead humming in amusement as she began to circle him. “How powerful you must be, little psychic, to resist my spell. Twice now, in fact. Not powerful yet, no, but the talent is there. Hidden. Oh, how I would love to shape that mind of yours. I could teach you so much. More than these people ever could. That potential is just waiting to be unleashed.”

“How would you know?” He scoffed. “You don't know anything about me.”

“Oh, I know more than you think.” She whispered smoothly.

“How?”

“You'll find out.” She said. “In due time.”

“Why in due time?” He asked. “You've got me here, without my team. Why don't you just finish it?”

She circled back around in front of him and he glared in her direction. “Because I am curious to see what you make of what's to come.”

With a twist of wind, she was gone, her figure disappearing with the falling sand that had been kicked up. Letting out a panicked breath, Horns turned to his team; frozen again. He was alone.

Again.

[silver-lily-louise]

A Whole New World - a Shadowhunters fanfic

Chapter 4: Fools Off Their Guards 'A fool off his guard could fall, and fall hard' - Arabian Nights, Aladdin In which Alec makes his second wish, and Magnus makes good on a promise.

Read it from the beginning on AO3

Read Chapter 4 on AO3, or alternatively, read it below!

~oOo~

Magnus rematerializes in the living room, a little surprised to hear Alexander’s voice still coming from his bedroom. He’s been on the phone with his mother for at least an hour, since before Magnus briefly returned to the lamp to tend his garden. He frowns as he realises that Alexander isn’t speaking with his usual, easy cadence – his voice is animated, spiking in volume and pitch. Magnus finds himself wanting to go check on him; but he reminds himself that it isn’t his place, and he should give Alexander his privacy.

But when he hears a crash, all of that goes out the window, and he sprints to the open bedroom doorway. ‘Alexander, are you all right?’

A quick glance around the room reveals the source of the crash – everything on Alexander’s desk, including the potted plant and the desk lamp, has been strewn across the floor. Alexander turns to face Magnus, and Magnus’ breath catches at the blaze of righteous fury in his expression. He looks powerful and deadly, like an avenging angel, a world away from the kind, reserved man Magnus has been getting to know for the past ten days. When their eyes meet, Alexander visibly tries to calm himself, taking a deep, shuddering breath and running his hands through his hair. ‘Yeah,’ he says quietly. ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry about that.’ ‘No need to be sorry,’ Magnus says, taking a step into the room. ‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ Alexander tosses his phone – still clenched tightly in his hand until now – onto the bed with a little more force than necessary. ‘My mom,’ he says. ‘She… she found some letters. Between my dad and another woman.’ He laughs bitterly. ‘Actual, honest-to-God letters, can you believe that? Like he’s some sort of Victorian suitor. She confronted him, and apparently, the bastard didn’t even deny it. So she walked out. They’re done.’ 

His voice breaks right at the end of that sentence, and Magnus’ heart twists painfully as Alexander’s eyes fill with tears. He steps forward, closing the distance between them, and gently pulls his friend close, one arm around his waist, the other hand guiding Alexander’s head down to Magnus’ shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmurs. Alexander returns the embrace, then laughs again, his voice thick with tears. ‘It’s stupid, you know? I mean, obviously I’m pissed on her behalf, but it’s not… I’m not some middle-schooler whose parents are fighting downstairs, you know? I’m an adult, and I live all the way across the country. There’s no need for all of this.’ Alexander’s hand lifts briefly from Magnus’ back, as if he’s gesturing – at himself, or the room, or the general situation, Magnus doesn’t know. But he doesn’t have to, because his answer would be the same anyway. ‘It’s not stupid,’ he says gently, but firmly. He waves a hand as he talks, reassembling the plant pot and the lightbulb, moving the mess on the floor back into a neat arrangement on the desk. ‘He betrayed your trust and hurt someone you care about. You’re allowed to be upset about that, Alexander.’ A few moments pass in still quiet, before he says, ‘You know, you still have two wishes. Want me to turn him into a frog?’

He’s expecting a chuckle, and when he doesn’t get one, he pulls back, frowning a little. ‘Ah – Alexander, not that it’s not possible, but I don’t actually think it’s a good idea to-‘ Alexander shakes his head, lips twitching into a quick half-smile as he wipes his tears away. ‘No, it’s not that. I knew you were kidding, I just…’ He sits down on the bed, and Magnus sits beside him, waiting for him to collect his thoughts enough to speak again. ‘It made me think of something. Something that Mom said. She’s in a motel at the moment, and I said she could come stay here for a while instead. She told me that she wants some distance from Dad, but she can’t leave L.A. – her job’s there, and apparently no-one’s hiring through regular applications at the moment. The only chance she has to find something else is being head-hunted.’

Magnus smiles. ‘Okay. So, you’re thinking that perhaps we can arrange for her to find a job opportunity in New York?’ ‘Actually, I was thinking Colorado.’ At Magnus’ confused look, Alexander explains, ‘Mom lived out there when she was younger, and she always talks about going back some day. Plus, Max just started college in Wyoming, and after… all this, Mom’ll probably want him to have someone else close by.’

Someone besides Dad, Magnus hears. ‘Ah, I see. In that case, just to be sure I have everything clear – your second wish is for your mother to find a fresh start, an opportunity, in Colorado?’ Alexander nods, and the wheels start turning in Magnus’ head. ‘All right. Consider it done.’

***

Magnus strolls through the corridors of Yelloway & Stein, catching the odd glimpse of himself in an internal window. Suit-and-tie isn’t usually his thing, but maybe he should make an exception to that rule more often. He feels very professional.

He knocks on the door to Human Resources and opens it, giving the clerk a smile – though he dials down from his usual radiance, keeping things casual, unsuspicious. ‘Hi. Recruitment want the resumes we have on file for new talent. Where can I find ‘em?’ The clerk gestures over to a green out-tray on top of a filing cabinet, returning to their computer screen. To Magnus’ eyes, the mouse movements look a little more suited to playing solitaire than administrative work – but he’s hardly one to judge secretive practices in this particular office, and on this particular day, is he? He brushes that thought aside, gathering the resumes. ‘Thanks,’ he says, unsurprised when he receives no acknowledgement from the clerk. Ordinarily, he’d be annoyed at the utter lack of good manners, but today, any decrease in attention is a boon.

Alone in the elevator, he produces one more resume to add to the pile – the one Maryse Lightwood keeps hosted on an online recruitment site. He waves his fingers over it lightly, infusing it with a subtle magic; it won’t change what they think of her qualifications, but it’ll compel them to at least read the resume before throwing it out.

No one bats an eye as he strides into the Recruitment office, dumping the pile of papers on an in-tray marked SCOUTED. He turns on his heel and leaves, putting on the air of someone far too busy to stop for chit-chat. In a way, that part’s not even a deception. Yelloway & Stein is the fourth most prestigious law firm in the state, meaning that he still has numbers five through twelve to go.

***

Six days after Magnus’ excursion to Colorado, Alec is starting to get nervous. Magnus can go anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye – yet here he is, hanging around in a tiny New York apartment, with probably one of the top twenty most boring men on the planet. ‘You know,’ he says hesitantly, as they tuck into the leftover Chinese food they saved for lunch, ‘you don’t have to stick around. I’m sure what you did in Colorado worked – I can move on to my third wish, if you need to get going.’ Magnus shakes his head, gesturing with his chopsticks as he finishes his mouthful before speaking. He handles them more elegantly than Alec could ever hope to – centuries of experience combined with some sort of natural grace, Alec supposes. ‘Like I said, I can stick around a while. After all, I want to make sure all three of your wishes are properly granted.’ He pauses, meeting Alec’s gaze more directly. ‘Of course, if you… if I’m interrupting your routine too much, I can always find another place to keep my lamp.’ ‘No,’ Alec says, knowing his answer was too quick but hoping Magnus hasn’t noticed. ‘No, not at all.’ Truth be told, much as he likes the independence of living alone, he forgot how nice it is to have another presence in the home – a friend, a roommate, someone to talk to and laugh with and sit next to on the couch.

Magnus’ serious expression lightens a little. ‘Okay. But please, do let me know if I’m outstaying my welcome. I’m eight hundred years old, time passes a little differently for me,’ he jokes. Alec rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, sure, because I’m gonna complain about a magic houseguest who’s literally only sticking around to make my dreams come true.’ He looks back down at his food, not quite meeting Magnus’ eyes as he says, ‘No, don’t worry about any of that. I like having you here.’ It’s too earnest, too honest to be said with eye contact. But it doesn’t matter, because he feels his stomach swoop anyway just remembering that beautiful, warm smile; the one that Magnus wears whenever Alec shares something from even remotely near his heart.

***

Three days later, Alec comes home with a small parcel, hastily wrapped in a suitably tiny gift bag. ‘Magnus?’ he calls. ‘In here,’ comes the reply from the living room, and Alec walks in to see Magnus banish a plush-looking yoga mat, snapping his fingers to change from his black tank top and sweatpants back into a regular outfit as he smiles at him. ‘Good day?’ ‘Yeah, it was okay,’ Alec says. He manages to stop thinking about what it would have been like to come home ten minutes earlier, but only because he’s struck by a sudden wave of fondness at how quickly they’ve settled into this routine of theirs. He shakes himself, producing the gift bag from his pocket. ‘Here, I got you something.’ Up until now, Alec didn’t think Magnus could look this taken aback. ‘Me?’ ‘Yes, you,’ he says – but as he hands it over, his phone buzzes in his pocket. ‘Ah – one moment.’ He pulls his phone out, a thrill of excitement and nervousness thrumming through him as he sees who it is. ‘Hi, Mom.’ ‘Hi, sweetheart, you’ll never guess what happened – I got a call from a big legal firm in Colorado. They want me to join the senior team in their family law department!’ ‘What? Wow, Mom, that’s amazing!’ Alec easily translates the happiness he’s feeling into false surprise, even as he looks up at Magnus and gives a thumbs-up. Magnus responds with a dazzling grin that sparks something even brighter in his golden eyes, silently clapping his hands in a gesture of triumph and joy.

Alec talks with his mom for a few more minutes, listening to the details of her new job, how they just called out of the blue, how she’d almost forgotten about putting her resume out there on that old recruitment site. ‘I’m really happy for you, Mom,’ he says softly. ‘Thank you, sweetheart. Listen, I’ve got to go – there’s a lot to sort out here, they want me to start as soon as possible – but I just wanted to let you know, I know how you worry. Talk soon, okay? I love you.’ ‘Yeah, I love you too, Mom. Bye.’ He hangs up, sinking into an armchair and basking in the happiness for a moment. ‘Well,’ Magnus says, taking the seat next to him. ‘Two wishes granted, and both for someone else’s sake. Honestly, Alexander, I’m half-expecting you to ask me to cure world hunger next.’

That startles Alec out of his reverie, and he looks sharply at Magnus. He’s been so preoccupied with the issues close to home, he never thought - Magnus seems to understand his alarm, reaching out a hand to rest it reassuringly on Alec’s arm. ‘You’re a kind man, Alexander, and no, you haven’t missed a huge, altruistic opportunity,’ he says, his tone teasing but his expression gentle. ‘If you’d asked me for something like that, I would have said no. Believe me, I understand the temptation to use magic to solve the world’s biggest problems, but wish-granting is… subtle, by nature. If you go too big with it, you wind up causing more problems than you solved. People get suspicious of large, anonymous donations, and the finances of a charity are shut down for six months while it’s investigated. An island hit by a hurricane is fixed overnight, and the next time one strikes – when there’s no genie around – humanitarian aid isn’t considered a priority anymore, because it was okay last time, wasn’t it?’

Alec gives a hmm of understanding. ‘I see your point. It must be frustrating – knowing you have all this power, but that snapping your fingers can’t just…’ ‘…Fix everything?’ Magnus supplied. ‘You’re right, it is frustrating – especially during the first hundred years, when every experience is so new and exciting, and every time you help someone it feels like an adventure.’ He smiles. ‘But most of us do what we can, behind the scenes. We can make a sizeable difference, even if we can’t eradicate the biggest problems. For example, my dear friend Catarina spends half her time as a medic with the Red Cross, guiding people to ‘miraculous’ recoveries.’ His eyes soften as he looks into the middle distance for a moment, before his focus comes back to Alec. ‘My advice?’ he says, softly, waiting for Alec to nod before he continues. ‘Use your last wish for yourself, Alexander. Do what I’m sure you’ve only done a handful of times before, and be as selfish as you like. I assure you, you’re more capable of good deeds by paying your luck forwards later, rather than trying to fix something big with unruly magic and a half-baked plan. There’s no shame in taking this opportunity just for you – in fact, in terms of making a positive impact, it’s probably the best option.’

Alec smiles. ‘Okay. I get it.’ His eyes alight on the tiny gift bag, forgotten on the coffee table. ‘Speaking of things that are just for you, open your gift! I need to know if I got the right one.’

Magnus takes the bag and gently lifts out the present, the wrappings disappearing mid-air as he throws them haphazardly over his shoulder. He blinks at the small piece of metal in its inordinately large plastic envelope, a small furrow of confusion gathering on his brow. ‘What’s this?’ ‘It’s a hinge,’ Alec says, rather obviously. He knows it’s a hinge, you idiot. ‘It’s for your lamp,’ he continues hurriedly. ‘The lid. So you don’t have to seal it up with wax again, and you won’t get stuck, but it’ll still be attached.’

And… okay, wow. If Alec thought that that smile had set his heart racing, it was surely nothing compared to the expression on Magnus’ face now. His mouth is slightly open, lax, as if in shock, his eyes are slightly wide and sparkling as he blinks, and his brows are still pulled together almost imperceptibly. Abruptly, he gets up, striding over to the lamp. He removes the hinge from packaging which once again blinks out of existence before it hits the ground, and there’s a flash of green light. He turns around with the lamp in his hands, and Alec sees that the hinge is now fused to the lamp, allowing the lid to tilt smoothly away from the main opening and then settle back into it snugly. Alec quickly discovers that he was wrong before. Nothing compares to that smile, and he knows that for certain because Magnus is looking at him with it right now, and Alec doesn’t want to ever look away even though a whole colony of butterflies has apparently just moved into his stomach. ‘It’s perfect, Alexander,’ Magnus says. ‘Thank you so much.’ Alec shrugs, trying to control his own pleased grin. ‘It’s nothing, really.’ ‘No,’ Magnus says vehemently. ‘It is certainly not.’ He looks down at the lamp. ‘I don’t remember the last time someone got me a gift,’ he murmurs. ‘Let alone such a thoughtful one.’

A part of Alec wants to ask Magnus how that can be true, when he spends so much of his time making others happy. Who wouldn’t want to thank him for that? But he’s not entirely sure that those last few words were meant to be spoken aloud. And he’s not entirely sure that if he starts talking about how grateful he is for Magnus – for all his help – he’ll be able to stop.

So instead, he changes the topic. ‘So, tell me – what’s the plan, after I make my third wish? What’s next for you? You planning on staying in New York a while, seeing the sights?’

Magnus’ attention seems to return to the here and now, and he places the lamp back on the mantelpiece with reverent care. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ he says. ‘After all, with such an innovative solution to my lid problems, the world is once again my oyster, hm?’ He winks, and Alec smiles, trying to return the playful tone and mask his foolish disappointment. Of course he isn’t sticking around. He’s been waiting on you long enough already.

But in that case, Alec’s going to take his advice, and he’s going to be selfish for once – he’s going to spend tonight in Magnus’ bright, reassuring company, and he’s not even going to think about his third wish until tomorrow. Just tonight, he tells himself. I’ll just ask him for tonight – no more, no less. He can always say no. Although of course, Alec’s fervently hoping that he doesn’t.

He turns and grabs his coat, winding his scarf around his neck. ‘Well, in that case,’ he says, ‘there’s something you really ought to see before you go.’ ‘Oh?’ Magnus asks. ‘And what might that be?’ He snaps his fingers, and a long, dapper coat appears over his own shoulders, a vibrant blue neckerchief peeping out from where it’s tucked warmly around his throat. His eyes darken to a rich brown, disguising their golden magic. They leave, and as Alec’s locking the door behind them, he says, ‘It’s this one path in Central Park. It’s fairly out of the way, pretty quiet – but it’s beautiful this time of year, because all the leaves have turned. It’s like something out of a fairytale.’ ‘Well,’ Magnus says with a smile, gesturing for Alec to go first, ‘I do like a fairytale. Lead on, Alexander.’

***

Magnus loses himself in easy conversation with Alexander on their way back from the park, and tries not to think of the third and final wish looming on the horizon.

He’s surprised himself, these last few weeks. He’s spent more one-on-one time with Alexander than he has with anyone else in the last hundred years, bar Catarina and a handful of lovers, and he’s found himself surprisingly… attached. He put it down to loneliness, at first – two years of house arrest would do that to anyone – and then he tried to pass it off as just flirting with a handsome guy, a way to pass the time while he waited to repay a favour. But somehow, without him noticing, he seems nice had turned into he’s my friend. He’s fun to flirt with had turned into I adore his company. I can afford to stick around for a while had turned into gods, I’m really going to miss him. Magnus hasn’t missed anyone in a long, long time, and he’s dreading it.

But it’s for the best, he reminds himself. Alexander’s a nice, regular mortal, who doesn’t need his life turned upside down by a sentimental old genie who doesn’t know when it’s time to move along. He’s polite, and thoughtful, and kind – far, far too kind to ever tell Magnus that it’s time for him to get back to his real life, to come down from the clouds bearing a fleeting whimsy of magic wishes and touch down in steady reality again. Magnus knows all of this. But knowing something and being happy about it are worlds apart, sometimes. Just like him and Alexander.

He tunes back in as his companion starts telling an anecdote of the time Jace convinced Max to climb to the very top of a tree, to throw down a frisbee that was stuck up there. Unfortunately, the seven-year-old had gotten stuck right alongside the frisbee, and had started sobbing – which had meant that Alexander (as the oldest, and tallest, and the one with the longest arms) was drafted into a perilous rescue mission, whilst Jace and Isabelle crowded the base of the tree, hoping to break any falls. There’s a fierce, fond love in Alexander’s eyes as he laughs at the memory, and he’s waving his hands in an impression of Isabelle as he recounts how she was yelling at Jace, calling him a reckless, irresponsible disaster of a human being –

Alexander suddenly starts toppling, his foot sliding out of control on a thin layer of evening frost, a gasp of faint surprise on his lips as he falls away from the sidewalk and towards the road. Magnus moves before he can consciously register it. His magic sticks his own feet to the floor as he reaches out with both hands, grabbing ahold of Alexander’s coat and pulling with all his might.

Alexander lurches forward, coming to rest with his torso pressed against Magnus’, his weight supported by the arm Magnus has thrown around his waist as well as the hand that’s still fisted in the front of his coat. A car zooms past them, right where Alexander’s head was a moment ago. They stand there for a few seconds, their stunned silence broken only by the noise of the traffic and their heavy breathing. ‘Are you all right?’ Magnus murmurs, his heart still pounding. Alexander blinks a few times, his tongue darting over his lips briefly before he can form the words. ‘Y-yeah. Thanks,’ he breathes.

A faint pink appears in his cheeks, growing beyond the already-present glow of the cold air, and it snaps Magnus out his trance as he realises the kind of tableau they must be making right now. He lets out a slightly breathless laugh, hearing how it comes out half-nervous, half-relieved, and absolutely zero percent casual. ‘Think nothing of it,’ he says, stepping back, steadying Alexander before removing his hands. He takes a deep breath, just managing to find a veneer of confident charm and an easy smile. ‘See, I told you,’ he says. ‘Didn’t I say that if I had a chance to save your life, I wouldn’t make you waste a wish on it?’ Alexander laughs, and the tension between them breaks. They walk home, comfortable in each other’s company – albeit a few inches further apart.

~oOo~

[shu-draws-and-stuff]

Little Doll Chapter One

I didn’t realize till two days later

it was the mirror who took his breath away.

The monstrous old Victorian mirror

with the ornate gilt frame

—Paul Muldoon, "The Mirror"

Ejiri Chiasa is the daughter of the All-Seeing Hero— now known as Tragic Hero— Third Eye, who had lost his life during a villain incident when she was little. Fueled by her wish to become the better hero, Chiasa enrolls to Yuuei, the very same academy where her father graduated. She'll have face enemies she's never met before, meet unlikely allies, and swallow the cold hard truth about her father's death along the way. But, hey, a hero's journey is never easy.

Chapter One: It's All Fun And Games Until Someone Breaks the Damn Mirror

I spat out a choked gasp and sit up on my bed, clutching the bedsheets like a lifeline and panting like I just ran 20 miles. My hand flew to where my right eye is, safely tucked away behind my hair. Just seconds earlier, I thought I felt the familiar texture of blood flowing down the right side of my face. I thought I smelled the thick scent of smoke and ash. I thought I saw the building shattering into a million shards of glass.

Slowly, my breathing slowed down and my muscles unstiffened. My heartrate began to go back to normal and I just sat there, staring hard at my hands. The feeling of blood and its rusty red hue was still there and at the same time, it wasn't. I heaved a sigh and clench my eye shut.

"Shit."

My name is Ejiri Chiasa.

"Ms. Ejiri?"

I am fifteen years old.

"You... wish to study in Yuuei?"

And I always felt like I lived in a mirror.

The scratching sounds my pencil made abruptly stopped and I blinked a few times before looking up from my notes to stare at my homeroom teacher. He was an older man, around 40 or 50, with graying hair and evident wrinkles. He wore those square glasses almost every teacher had and he had the most uncomfortable expression plastered onto his features.

Apparently, he makes it a habit to stick his nose in other people's business.

All the quiet murmurs stopped at once, my classmates' heads doing 180° turns towards my direction. My eye hardens. "Yes? Is there a problem, sir?" I ask, fists clenching under the table.

I hated my middle school. I hated Nabu.

My homeroom teacher flinches. "Well, there is no problem, however..."

One of my classmates piped in before the old man can finish his thought. "Aren't you at least a little bit... uncomfortable?" Me? Uncomfortable? I don't even recall this bastard's name.

"Why would I be?"

"Don't you hate heroes?" What's-his-face stated it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

My eye widened a fraction and I look back at my desk. Hate was such a vague word. I didn't hate them, mind you. They're just idiots. All of them heroes are idiots. Cowards and idiots. Just as much as the people surrounding me are.

I sucked in a shaky breath.

"Please, just don't go anywhere. I promise I'll come back for you."

"I passed the mock exams." I managed to calmly say, my knuckles white under the wooden surface. I lift a hand to slightly fix the hair covering the right side of my face, watching as some of my classmates flinch.

"Papa! Papa's in there! Why can't you go in there and get my papa?!"

"I might as well try." I lifted my face in time to see their expressions turn grim. "Besides, is it any of your business?"

"Did you tell your mom yet?"

I perk up as Shinsou sat in front of me. Lunchtime came around and after my episode earlier, my classmates aren't that eager to sit next to me. As if they'd ever sit next to me. Pretentious assholes, the lot of them. Shinsou Hitoshi was the only bitch I've ever respected in this shithole.

After I transferred to Nabu, I was assigned to sit next to him. At first, we didn't talk to each other. He didn't comment about my father, I didn't take notice of his quirk. We mutually respected each other, I guess? Before I knew it, we'd grown to be friends after a few months. The guy had it rough, rougher than me. Having a quirk like his made people feel entitled to group him with villains. Villains, of all things. I never liked that.

"Tell her what?"

"The mock exams? Yuuei?"

"Bold of you to assume I'd tell her right away."

He squints his exhausted eyes at me. "You gotta tell her someday."

I hum and take a bite out of the omurice. "That ain't today, though. She'd go crazy if she found out." I rest my head on the palm of my hand, chewing slower than earlier. "I'll tell her after entrance exams. That way, she won't be able to stop me."

"She would still be able to stop you, though."

"Shut up."

"Maybe even disown you on the spot."

"I said shut up already."

"You know," Shinsou sighed, "if I were you, I'd tell your mother about it. Exam's in ten months, Ejiri, you can't train in secret with Inukai-san any longer." I cough and look away, avoiding the fact that he was, in fact, right.

"Yes, I can. Watch me." I scoff.

"Fine, it's your decision whether you follow my advice or not." He waved a hand around, vaguely gesturing to everything all the while leaning further into his seat. "To hell with your advice, Shinsou." I snort. I see him playfully roll his eyes at me and I snickered.

"By the way," Shinsou piped, "did you hear about the Sludge Villain incident yesterday?" I perk up at this; I caught a snippet of info about this on the TV last night but I didn't get the chance to hear the whole story. Something about a 'Bakuro Kazumi' or something. I can't remember. "I've heard the news here and there. What about it?" I reply.

"Apparently, two students our age were involved. One was actually held captive by the thief, while the other blindly rushed in and almost got himself killed." The purple-haired boy said. "Pretty dumb if you ask me." I snicker at his remark. The kid who rushed in probably got frustrated with the heroes' hesitation. Kudos to him. "Oh, and All Might was there." I stiffen a little at that.

"Oh really?" I goad.

"Yeah, he was tracking that guy the whole day. Thank God he managed to get him before anyone else got hurt." Shinsou continued and I clench my fists. "Yeah, thank God." I say, sarcasm dripping in my voice. "And that kid rushed in even when All Might was there? Weird."

"Alright, what is your deal with All Might?" Shinsou asked. "What do you mean?" I coyly asked. "You always act like this whenever someone mentions him in class. Do you not like him?" He asked.

Shamelessly, I replied, "Actually, yeah, I don't." He gave me another questioning look. "I just think people give him too much credit for what he does; it pisses me off. They glorify his 'many' accomplishments but choose to ignore the additional damage he did; or could do, even. I bet he got careless and lost that Sludge Villain in the first place!" Shinsou just sighs and scratches the back of his neck.

"Be thankful that I'm not one of his crazy fans or you'd be dead right now—" I cry out indignantly, "—and! I think you should try to see the guy in a different light."

"Eh?"

"I don't think All Might's that bad; you're just choosing to see him like that because you have this warped expectation of heroes." He replies. I sputter like an idiot.

"I do not—" "Yes, you do."

"Fine! I'm just saying; just because he's No. 1 doesn't mean he's all that great. Look at Endeavor, for Christ's sake." I blurt out. Shinsou just shakes his head at me. I continue my rant anyway. "The man's No. 2 but have you seen the way he acts? I thought we aren't allowed to burn trash anymore!"

"Whatever floats your boat. Come on, we gotta get to class." He pushed the chair back and stood up, as I did the same, cleaning up my bento box. "Time always passes you by in a flash, huh?" He murmured. We made our way to the corridors and halfway to the classroom, I noticed droplets of water splatter themselves across the window, decorating it in a symphony of small lights.

The soft pitter-patters of rain reached my ears and I caught a glimpse of lightning before hearing the thunder.

"Yeah," I mutter, though I'm sure Shinsou barely heard me, "time is an ass like that."

School was over in a blink of an eye and I found myself in front of my house under the rain with only the protection of my umbrella. My bag was slung over my shoulders. The plastic bag of groceries hung from my fingers. My shoes were wet. And I can feel my stomach dropping.

I push myself towards the front door and shake my umbrella, watching the droplets fall and splatter on the cement floor. In instinct, I thrust my hand into my bag to look for my keys. Hearing the familiar jingle, I bring them out and placed one in the keyhole. But, to my surprise, the door was already open. Immediately, my nerves start to tingle.

My mother shouldn't be home at this time.

I quickly place my keys in my bag and tighten my grip on the handle of my umbrella. Sucking in a breath, I turn the metal knob and crack open the door. The lights in the kitchen were on. My knuckles are white around the handle.

I quietly enter my home, the wooden planks barely making a sound under my weight. I make it past the living room and through the hallway, edging closer and closer to the kitchen. Once I got to the doorway, I suck in another breath. There might be a stranger in my home. There might be a criminal in my home. Best case scenario, it's just Inukai-san or my mother. I don't want to think about the worst case scenario.

"AAH—" I charge in with my umbrella high up in the air, ready to hit a man—

"Oh, you're home."

—and I find my mother, Ejiri Kaoru, sitting on a stool by the island, calmly sipping her tea. I freeze in place. How in what dimension is my mother home at 7:06 pm? "I thought you had a shift at the hospital tonight?" I ask, lowering the umbrella.

"I had the morning shift."

"Oh,"—I uncomfortably shuffle my feet in place—"I-I see."

"Why were you out so late?" Mother eyed me from behind the rim of her cup. I met her eyes and lifted the plastic bag filled with vegetables and meat. "I went grocery shopping; I thought you weren't here so I thought I'd make dinner myself tonight."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

I nod. She hums.

We stayed there in silence, mother finishing her tea and me standing aimlessly by the doorway. The groceries and the umbrella in my hands began to feel heavier as I began to feel my stomach dropping further. I know mother acted distant ever since papa... passed but she was acting even more... distant now. To alleviate the awkwardness that stunk the air, I cough and slightly shake the plastic bag. "I'm gonna go change. I'll make dinner right after, alright?" I announce. Mother nodded.

"If that's the case, I'm just going to step outside for a moment." She said in return. "Wait, it's raini—" I shout and before I could protest further, she was already out the backdoor. I know I saw the pack of cigarettes in her hand.

I sighed and went back into the hallway and up the stairs. After papa was gone, mother and I became... let's just say, distant. She became an emotional wreck and I was drowning in my own grief and hatred. It didn't take long for us to separate emotionally and neither of us even attempted to connect again. A part of me regrets that. Another really wishes that the world would just burn already.

I changed to my normal clothes— a t shirt and shorts— and run downstairs to prepare dinner. By the hallway, I catch picture frames hanging on the wall. Some of them were of us with papa. Some were of me and Inukai-san. I smile.

I got to work in the kitchen.

Dinner was quiet as usual. Mother was slowly chewing the tamagoyaki I prepared. I was anxiously watching her eat the homemade meal over the rim of my bowl of rice. An unfamiliar sense of dread had made itself comfortable in the depths of my stomach. I didn't know what made me this way. Mother's silence wasn't out of the ordinary. I would say that it was the norm whenever Mother ignores me. But her distant eyes, the tense shoulders— I know there's something wrong. And I was almost too scared to find out.

"You make decent tamagoyaki." She suddenly piped up and I jumped in my seat. "Huh? Uh, thanks, I had to— you know— learn, since you had the shifts and—" I stammer and wince. Was it really the wisest decision to bring up her absence in my life? Mother just watched me run my mouth. In the corner of my eye, I see her face darken. It could just be my imagination.

"How's school?" She asked and I shut my mouth in surprise. This was unexpected. Taking another bite out of the tamagoyaki, Mother stared at me with dull eyes. I blink. "Uh, fine, I guess." I answer.

"You're still hanging around that Shinsou kid?" She asked. I nod slowly, not really understanding what's happening. I stand up and take the now empty plates to the sink, a million thoughts running through my head. Why would mother suddenly ask me about school?

"So I heard you passed the mock exams."

"They were fairly easy." I respond in instinct.

She had something else in her mind, I know it.

"So you'll be taking the entrance exam next?"

"Yeah, in ten mont—" I freeze in place, realizing the error I had made. She knows. She knows about Yuuei. And she managed to pry it out of my mouth in 5 seconds.

None of us moved an inch. I couldn't breathe. Her burning glare bore itself into the back of my head. I knew she was angry. I knew she was thinking of ways to drag me to my room and chain me to the bed. Because in this house, heroes are taboo. Mother didn't want anything to do with them.

"You had no intention of telling me, did you?" She glowered.

"T-that's not—"

"Tell me."

I stammered. I knew she would act like this. "I..." I choked out but I found myself faltering. Her gaze felt like acid corroding ny skin. God, how is it possible for anybody to have a gaze this intense?

"I didn't." I murmured, sure that my mother wouldn't hear me. Unfortunately, as if all gods from different religions seemed to find my misery amusing, she did. "Did your father's death teach you nothing?!" I heard her scream, the chair's legs screeching and a loud crash sounding right after. I didn't need to look behind me to know that the chair fell over.

"You stubborn girl, I told you! Do you want to end up just like your father?"

"No."

"Chiasa, look at me."

I can't. I can't meet her eyes.

"Look at me."

I slowly turned to her, my body stiff and shoulders as tense as a cord holding onto a 100-ton weight. My mother's face was red. Her breathing was ragged. She was fuming.

"I forbid you from going to Yuuei."

I saw this coming. I should've been prepared. But actually hearing the words, actually realizing that even my own mother doesn't want me to be a hero; it devastated me. It made me shake. It made me angry.

"No." I said.

"What?" She whispered.

"I'm going to Yuuei whether you like it or not!" I added fuel to the fire.

"You stubborn— Chiasa, listen to me—"

"I'm going to graduate from Yuuei!" The fuel bled into each word. Tears brimmed at the corners of my eyes.

"I'm going to be the number one hero!" The gasoline keeps pouring out into each letter that escapes my mouth.

"Why do you want to be a hero so badly?!"

This is it.

"I..."

The fire has been lit.

"I want to be better than them."

It felt like everything was shifting. Like everything was changing. My mother, my house, myself. I knew that after today, after I get into Yuuei, everything's going to change.

"I want to be better than those heroes who failed me and my father all those years ago!"

I hear the mirror shattering.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

(I wanted to try my hand at making a fanfic ahaha. Anyway, here is the official first chapter for Little Doll! Are you happy now, @daemooons? Shoutout to @daemooons and @sanii13 for proofreading and listening to my idea rants lol. Y'all the best and I love you.)

(You can also read Little Doll on my Quotev account here.)

[getoutofthewater]

@dbhrarepairs Monday Day 1: Laughter + Supernatural 

[Gavin/Leo]

Rating: T

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Horror Elements, Character Death (but happy ending)

Words: 3,546 [AO3 Link]

This wasn’t a good idea, Leo knew that, but common sense wasn’t his strong suit. You didn’t go into the thick woods when you were super fucked up on half a bottle of vodka and that new red-ice thing; you didn’t walk into a derelict, abandoned house, with junkies you called your friends but the truth was you barely knew them and they, as Matt’s troubled bird had said, would sell you to satan for one corn chip, or even less. Common sense may not be strong within him, but Leo was really good at predicting outcomes.

They came upon the house all of a sudden, one of those victorian monstrosities. Leo hadn’t actually believed it would be there, but here it was just like a corpse in the middle of the woods forgotten and rotting (just like he’d be all too soon), and something told him he should run back now, but he didn’t trust himself to tell right from left in his current state, when would he learn not to mix his booze with his drugs.

They sneaked in through a window; Leo cut himself with the broken glass, got dirt all over him. Everything was going fantastic, he thought he saw huge black blotches, blacker than black, run away from them as they walked through the house, spiders he guessed, kinda big ones, he didn’t mind spiders all that much (as well he shouldn’t, a few would be living inside his skull soon enough) but his whole body itched uncomfortably anyway, maybe because the house reminded him somewhat of his dad’s place, same expensive wood work, same icy chill of indifference.

There was a crash and then jarring laughter, his 3 companions were getting rowdy, breaking whatever they could find that wasn’t broken already. Leo didn’t feel like joining them, really all he wanted was to curl up somewhere and fucking sleep it off, maybe there would be a room upstairs, he’d do with an old mattress or whatever, he found a stairwell, but it looked unsafe, like it wouldn’t hold his weight at all. He heard doors opening and slamming shut upstairs though, and wondered if someone was living here, or if it was only the wind and the whole old house would come down on their heads, as if replying to the doors upstairs, a door right next to him slammed shut startling him. ‘Don’t be fucking stupid’ Leo told himself ‘it’s just a drafty, old, spooky house’

“Hey, check this shit out!” Vic called out

Leo went into the big living room to check that shit out, because again, no common sense.

The bright moonlight coming in through the window gave the room an eerie glow, there were rusty symbols all over the walls, all over the floor.

“That looks like real blood, man” Drew said, he sounded amazed but not scared

“Maybe, like, we shouldn’t be here when whoever did this comes back” Leo said, his head was starting to hurt, he felt like he was going to black out any second now, want it or not, and he shivered involuntarily when he saw the same rusty thing splattered on the wall, it put him in mind of, like, blood from a gunshot in a movie, execution style, that type of thing.

“You don’t know what this is?” Rod said “This is form 3 years ago, when that guy got killed here”

Oh, yeah, Leo remembered now, there had been a disappearance at the very least, but Rod always liked to blow things out of proportion especially when drunk or high.

“It was so messed up” Rod continued excitedly “He was killed right here, they never caught the guy that actually did it, but some drunk kids found the body, still warm, some say he was still alive when they found him. They were some weird fucks, like into witchcraft and shit, so they drew this crap in his blood, the next day one of them called the police because he was too freaked out about it, but when they came back with the cops the body was gone”

“Bullshit, you are making this shit up” Drew argued

“I’m not, my brother told me!” Rod hesitated, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t “Fucking google it!” he added

“I fucking will” Drew said, taking out his phone “Oh shit, no fucking signal”

The house creaked then, it sounded like heavy footsteps on the second floor you couldn’t get to, at least not by the rotting staircase

“Maybe we should put in new blood, to appease the house demons” Vic said grandly, walking into the weird circle in the floor, he said it loudly like someone who is suddenly afraid but won’t admit to it  

“Yeah, why not” Rod replied, always willing to play along “who is it going to be” he said taking his knife out of his pocket

“Leo’s just cut himself with the window” Drew gave him away

“Shut the fuck up” Leo said

“Perfect!” Rod said “Come on Leo, don’t be a pussy”

“Whatever” Leo said rolling his eyes, he walked into the creepy circle, and touched the floor, smudging a bit of his clotting blood on it “There, happy?”

Rod yanked Leo’s hand suddenly and cut through his palm, drops of fresh blood fell from the new wound.  

“Shit, man!” Leo exclaimed clutching at his hand, the cut wasn’t that deep, but it was painful “What the fuck, what’s wrong with you?!”

“It’s barely a scratch” Rod said “Why are you always such a whiny bitch?” He said shoving Leo’s shoulder, trying to provoke him, but Leo wasn’t stupid enough to get into a head on fight with Rod when they both were this fucked up.

“Yeah, whatever I’m out of here” Leo said, he felt his blood run down his arm soaking his jumper’s sleeve, still dripping into the floor, into the weird circle made out of  someone else’s old, dried up blood

“You can’t go yet” Rod spat, holding Leo by his arm

“Just let him go, Rod” Vic said cautiously

“No one is leaving if I don’t fucking feel like it” Rod said taking his gun out

The footsteps were louder upstairs now, but none of them noticed, focusing as they were in Rod and his gun, this wasn’t new, it was always like this, his tantrums.

“Come on, Rod, we are having fun here, right?” Drew said, he had the most practice deescalating these type of situations

Then everything happened all at once, the doors of the moonlight lit room slammed shut, and someone started knocking wildly at the other side of them, the black spiders upset by this (and were they actually spiders, Leo couldn’t really tell) ran all over the walls, Rod started shooting aimlessly at them, at the doors, at any shadow that startled him

“Don’t fucking mess with me, I’m going to fucking kill you!” Rod said wildly, apparently that red-ice thing only made him more volatile, good to know

Drew tried to grab the gun, Leo vaguely thought his head hurt more now and then he finally blacked out.

“Fucking wake up, you fucking idiot!” Was the next thing Leo heard, he didn’t open his eyes, someone kicked at his legs “Enough, fucking dumbass!”

“Jeez, stop fucking kicking at me, what the hell” Leo sat up feeling groggy, but in a nice way, as if he had just waken from a refreshing evening nap. The room was just as before, but quiet, his friends weren’t anywhere to be seen, a man he didn’t recognize stood over him, he looked slightly older than him, really pissed off

“I think I blacked out” Leo said, he tried to take his phone out to see the hour, but it wasn’t in his pocket, he may have dropped it anywhere in the woods, damn it.

“You think” The pissed off man said, “You shouldn’t have been here in the first place, stupid fucking kids, coming here, “I dare you to do this, I dare you to do that, let’s see which of us has less fucking brains hahaha” fucking hell!” the man said

“I’m not a kid, I’m 28!” Leo said, he could claim the upper hand on that point at least

“If anything that works against you, dumbass” The man said drily

“You were messing with us with the doors and the footsteps and shit, that is so very grown up of you” Leo rebuked, “You squatting here or what?”

The man shrugged “None of your fucking business”

Leo decided to take that as a yes, even if the man didn’t look at all like a homeless person. His leather jacket and his green v-neck shirt looked new, his hair was brushed back with one or two strands falling over his forehead, a bit of a vintage bad boy look, it suited him.

“So,” Leo said “How did you get on the second floor? Those stairs are like rotting out”

“So far, so good” the man said

“Can you show me?” Leo asked, because it was that, or get back to town alone by the dark woods, or try to find the others, but maybe this guy would let him stay until it was light out

The man scoffed, “Whatever,” he said walking out of the living room, Leo scrambled up to follow him

The man walked up the stairs with his heavy steps, Leo stood at the foot of the staircase looking at it dubiously, but if it held on to this guy stumping around, it would probably stand his lighter steps, he followed him up.

The rooms in the second floor were just as abandoned as the first although not as vandalized, maybe because not many dared walk up those fragile-looking stairs. If he was squatting here he was really living with nothing but rotting wood and bird poop. The man sat casually at the little bar, where there were still dusty glasses and full bottles as if whoever had lived here had just walked out and forgotten to come back.

“How you feeling?” The man asked with a frown that seemed to Leo more puzzled than angry or  worried

“Actually good” Leo replied, sitting at the window seat, “I was like, really messed up, but now I’m feeling better. What’s your name?”

The man glared at him

“Come on! Question for question, it’s only fair!” Leo insisted

“Gavin” Gavin said shortly

“I’m Leo!” Leo said with a smile, and turned to look out of the window “Hey! What’s that?”

There were colored lights floating in the distance, were they like car lights, or chinese lanterns, or even bugs? He couldn’t really tell. They floated up and down in different colors, blue and purple, and green and yellow and orange.

Gavin shrugged, “Dunno, weird lights, they show up sometimes”

“Wanna go check them out?” Leo said excitedly

“What the hell for?”

“Aren’t you curious to see what they are?”

“No,” Gavin said drily “unlike someone I don’t trip all over myself because I see something shiny”

“Oh, come on!”

After a moment of consideration Gavin scoffed, but he got up

“Yeah!” Leo said animatedly  

As they went back down the stairs there was a loud thump, this time it seemed to come from under them, Leo stopped to listen; maybe that’s where his friends had gone to hide without him

“Get a move on, dumbass!” Gavin called out to him “We’ll miss your lights or whatever the fuck”

Leo rushed after him, the lights did seem more interesting, and Gavin seemed like much better company than Rod with his gun. The woods felt eerier that usual, but maybe it was only because he was following a literal stranger off the path, it wasn’t a good idea, but he really wanted to trust this Gavin.

Again, Leo saw weird shadows through the trees, this time they seemed more human-like, or at least humanish, but they were too thin, their arms and legs too long, they gave him a really creepy feeling but maybe he was imagining things, maybe he was still under like red-ice hallucinations or whatever, he thought he saw them climb the trees with those long limbs, in a viscous way, like sap only going up instead of down, and fast, they crouched in three branches and Leo hoped that sap like thing wouldn’t drip on him

“Ignore them” Gavin said irritably

“You can see them too?”

Gavin shook his head and gave him a look, talking about them wasn’t ignoring them

Leo looked down at his feet and the dry leaves, trying to ignore the anxious, creepy feeling he was getting, he wanted to run away, he wanted to cry, he noticed with alarm he was starting to hyperventilate; he wasn’t this much of a chicken on the regular

“For fucks sake!” Gavin growled “That’s not fucking ignoring them!”

Leo looked up at him still breathing way too fast, he wondered if he was going to black out again. If Gavin would leave him in the middle of the woods alone, and with those things there.

Gavin scoffed, and looked around as if searching for an answer “Shit! I’ll hold your fucking hand if that makes you stop this bullshit”

“What?” Leo breathed

“Here” Gavin said, sounding exasperated but taking his hand “They have to go through me to get to you, just pretend they aren’t there”

“O- okay” Leo said, he did feel better now that Gavin was holding his hand, safer, he focused on Gavin’s back and tried to control his breathing, ignoring the weird viscous blobs of shadow he could still see in the corner of his eyes.

Leo expected to get to a clearing or something, but they were still walking through the trees when the lights started to shine through them, pretty orbs of light the size of a ping pong ball, floating about a bit like bugs.

“What are they?” Leo asked, looking around, his curiosity pushing away his fear

“Dunno, I’d never come this close”

“Why not?”

“What’s the point?”

“Look at them! They are so freaking cool! Doesn’t it make you feel happy just to see them?”

Gavin looked up, the different colors reflected on his face

“Guess it’s not too bad” Gavin shrugged

“Not too bad?” Leo asked “This is like, sick supernatural shit” Leo tried to touch one of the orbs, it felt weird, squishy in an unpleasant electric way, like water carrying a low electric current, that didn’t hurt you but felt very unpleasant to touch, Leo took his hand away startled by it

Gavin huffed as if he were holding on to a laugh,

“You always go around touching what you shouldn’t?” Gavin said with a smirk

“Maybe” Leo replied shamelessly

Gavin scoffed again. Is he annoyed, Leo thought, or amused? Annoyed or amused? Annoyed or–

“Watch it” Gavin said, grabbing him by the collar of his jumper, and pulling him a few steps back. Some of the thin weird shadows were coming closer, Leo saw one reach for one of the lights with his too-long, too-thin arm, fast like a frog’s tongue, it dragged the little blue light into the oily shadows, and right afterwards Leo could hear some crunching sounds that made him feel sick, like little bird’s bones being cracked and crushed

“What the fuck are those?”

“I don’t know, just ignore them and don’t try to fucking touch them” Gavin said, starting to walk back where they had come from

Leo followed him grabbing on to Gavin’s hand again without waiting for an invitation, guessing that was a given, especially with the crunching and the “Don’t Touch” and stuff. It occurred to him then that maybe he was dreaming, maybe he was still passed out, or like ODing and shit, but if that was so Leo didn’t really mind, this was a very nice dream so far, sure fucking weird, kinda creepy, but overall nice, the type were you meet someone you feel like you’ve known forever, someone you just feel happy and comfortable with and then you wake up and are heartbroken for a minute when you realize they don’t exist, and go about feeling stupidly lonely for the rest of the day. He squeezed Gavin’s hand, as he forced himself not to look back at those things, he seemed real enough.

“Hey!” Leo said when they came to the house again “Maybe we could go somewhere else sometime? Like in the city and things”

Gavin turned to look at him darkly, he was angry

“I mean, if you want” Leo said, feeling suddenly self-conscious

Gavin let go of his hand and went into the house, when Leo stepped in he could hear voices, which he immediately recognized as those of his friends, clearly coming from the basement.

“So, I guess” Leo hesitated “I’ll get out of your hair now; that was really neat though” he said awkwardly before going down the steps “Hey, guys!” Leo called out animatedly, trying to ignore the sorry feeling he had at having annoyed Gavin somehow “You won’t believe what I saw, it was crazy!”

“Did you hear that?” Vic said, “Like someone coming down the stairs”

“Stop being paranoid, and help” Rod spat

Leo walked up to his friends, and there on the floor was his body, although he recognized himself more by his clothes than anything else, he was lying on the floor, one of his eyes a bloody mess, the bullet had gone right through it into his brain. He turned to look at the stairs. Gavin was sitting there with that dark look still on his face, which now Leo recognized for an assholish way of being angry about the situation but not at him, Gavin shrugged, there wasn’t anything he could do.

“We can’t leave him here, it was an accident, we can explain that!” Vic was saying “what if his dad asks about him?”

“Please, don’t be ridiculous” Drew replied “Only real concerns while we bury the fucking body”

“I’m not going to fucking jail precisely because it was an accident” Rod said “nobody is going to look for him, plus he’ll have company”

He lifted a lose floorboard, a skeleton was already there completely anonymous except for the green V-neck, the leather jacket, his hands tied behind his back, a hole in his skull.

“How did you know he was in there?” Vic said in a low tone, Leo felt sorry for him

“My brother told me” Rod said dangerously “they never found him, or who did it. If you two shut up, they’ll never find Leo either”

“Shit, this is fucked up, man” Vic said, as the three of them dumped Leo’s body in the hole with the other murder victim. Placing the floorboards over them, dragging the old furniture that had been over the first grave just as they found it; there was a dead cat in one corner of the basement, already decomposing. Drew started to kick the sorry dead thing so it lay near the site of the grave.

“There, if anyone smells anything they’ll think it’s the cat” Drew said, giving it a last kick. Rod threw up

“Now, now you fucking throw up” Drew said

“The fucking cat has maggots in it” Rod argued

“Can we get the fuck out of here?” Vic said, “I keep hearing shit”

They ran out of the house, and were already joking about whatever when they were only a few feet away.

“Great friends those” Gavin said drily, still sitting on the steps

Leo walked up to him and put his arms around his neck

“What the fuck are you doing?” Gavin said, trying to lean back away from him

“I’m giving you a hug” Leo replied

“Whatever the fuck for?”

“I mean, I’m so sorry they never found you, and that you died and everything” Leo said softly “Like I didn’t even notice, it didn’t hurt or anything, but you should have been like really scared and things”

“You just died, dumbass” Gavin said, pushing him away gently “Worry about yourself”

“I mean, is this what being dead is like?” Leo asked, sitting next to him on the basement steps “or are you still here because you were never found or–“

“I don’t fucking know, first I thought I was in hell, then I thought maybe this was it for everyone. Now I think is something about that stupid circle or whatever, I have never seen anyone else”

“Damn” Leo said,

“Yup” Gavin said drily

“No wonder you are so cranky” Leo joked because that was his nature

Gavin glared at him, Leo ignored that

“So, like, wanna go exploring?” Leo said bumping against Gavin’s shoulder “wanna go find some kids with a ouija board to mess with?”

“Are you going to be as chickenshit as you were back there?” Gavin said “Because that was fucking embarrassing”

“Uhm, Yeah” Leo said “Some of this shit is really freaky”

Gavin actually laughed, it was a gruff, low sound, almost like a bark, but Leo thought it was rather nice, he wouldn’t mind staying here, 20, 50, or 100 years if he could hear that sound often

“We going?” Leo insisted

“Sure, why not”