#i wasn’t the only one who had that oddly specific fantasy in school right?

[some-random-ghost]

Ah yes, the unaware aromantic urge to fantasise about having a „if we ever brake up, we should make sure that we‘ll stay at least friends afterwards“ talk with your hypothetical future romo partner early on in the relationship.

[youarejesting]

Jinnie

[MASTERLIST] Beta: @hoebii​ Pairing: Jin x Reader Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Mystery, Angst, Adventure. Rating: All Words: 11.3k

Summary: Jin is a genie, who as folklore warns trick humans, to get their souls. He twists their words and taunts around into actual wishes to be used against them if it is phrased properly. But as a law student you are careful with your words and beat him at his own game.

Stepping out of 5330LAW ‘Wrongful Conviction: Journeys to Freedom’ you rubbed your temples, trying to ease the pain coursing behind them. It was like your brain had just been filled with wood chips and the sharp edges were trying to dig their way back out. How could learning hurt you so bad? There were so many dates, legislations, different clauses, and terms that you had to memorize- BUT, you forced yourself to move your thought process along.That would all have to wait. 

You would rather not think ever again, so you rushed off to the little convenience store where you spent the night scanning products and taking money. You were like a robot repeating a script over and over. 

“Welcome” “Can I help you?” “Just these items today?” “That will be twelve forty, on the card?” “Whenever you are ready” “Have a nice day”

It was easy. You happily lost yourself in those mundane tasks whilst standing there and growing bored. Suppressing a yawn, you cleaned the floors, tidied, and restocked the shelves. Eagerly counting down the final hour until you could go home and take a nap. While cleaning you had cut your hand on the plastic shelf display, quickly purchasing an antiseptic cream to cover the injury, it was the only thing that stood out about your shift today. Or so you thought. 

Counting the till slowly you allowed for a few last-minute customers to come in and purchase what they needed. Most paid by the card so it wouldn’t ruin your count. They bought alcohol and snacks and other little things one might need. When it was finally time to close up, you headed around the counter walking towards the door ready to flip the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. As well as turning off the little neon ‘OPEN’ sign on the window.

Leaning down you reached for the plug, fingers so close to the switch ready to turn it off, you stretched down a little more, smiling triumphantly when you flicked the switch when the bell above the door rang a man ran in painting. “Excuse me miss,” 

Ah! This is why you didn’t close off the till until the door was locked, allowing people to buy things last minute, if they needed something urgently. The amount of single parents who need baby wipes that barge into the store last minute was more than you could count. 

“Good evening Sir, What can I help you with?”

“Please take this and make a wish?” He spoke, voice panicked as he kept nervously looking over his shoulder, “It is the lamp of a genie, it will grant you one wish, but you have to use it now” 

Without a chance to refuse, the lamp was thrust into your hands. You stared at the beautiful gold and ruby lamp. This looked expensive and you wanted to refuse but the man had already started hiding behind the fridges. There was a bright flash of light coming from the street as a figure appeared outside on the sidewalk. The figure was quick, pushing open the door and practically gliding across the room where he grabbed the man.

You heard the man scream and you couldn’t help but run away in fear. You got into your car shaking, throwing everything on the passenger seat. Your breathing was shallow and erratic as you drove away as fast as you could, the adrenaline quickening your reflexes and keeping you alert to the road ahead.

When you got to your apartments, you scooped everything into your arms and ran up the stairs and along the corridor until you reached your door, your breathing wasn’t coming any easier and the pain in your chest was so sharp you felt like you were going to pass out. Fumbling with keys trying to find the right one for the door, the next-door neighbor started shouting about the ruckus you were making running in the hallways. It wasn’t until you were successfully inside the safety of your home that your breathing slowed down. That’s when you noticed the fancy lamp in your hands.

It looked like real gold, it looked like real jewels, did the man steal it and try to hide it with you, did the other man that showed up kill him. There were so many questions and you didn’t know what to do, so you ran out to the hall and threw it down the garbage shoot, hoping no one came for you.

Sleep didn’t come easy, you felt like there was someone on your balcony or someone walking down the hall, and every time you closed your eyes you saw this horrible-looking man. His eyes were dark and his skin was like Ash. Though you hadn’t seen any specific features your mind conjured the creepiest man; with a pointed hooked nose and a narrow protruding chin. You had seen his hands which were boney and each finger bent a little oddly like they weren’t natural human joints.

Deciding around midnight to study and use the time not sleeping wisely, you were well into the third chapter of the night when you finally dozed off, the textbook still opened.. Waking the next morning to a call you jerked awake, heart racing from the fright. Still adorning your uniform, you lunge across the floor to your bag where you heard your phone ringing. It was a stupid ringtone. From the floor you could see the gold lamp gleaming on the kitchen tiles and remembered the events of that night. Looking at the phone you saw the caller ID and groaned. It was your boss and you did not want to work. It was your first day off in two weeks and you were wanting to do some cleaning school work and chill out. 

That and any thought regarding the shop had the barely repressed memories clawing at the edges of your mind. You had decided it was obviously a prank and two people were joking around. Reluctantly you cleared your throat before answering, sitting up straight and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Hello, this is Y/n speaking,” You said politely and waited to hear what the store owner had to say with your fingers crossed. He was a nice guy and you knew it was stressful for him to have to fill shifts as the younger employees tended to take multiple days off in a week but you were really in need of this free day.

“Hey Y/n, it is Choi,” He said his voice seemed a little stressed but also slightly amused and you felt your shoulders slacken, “I was wondering if you could see me this morning in about half an hour?”

“Of course, I will be there in fifteen minutes,” You replied, getting changed and retying your hair in a bun before racing out the door. You drove to the shop and began planning your chores for the day. When you get home you would have to do your laundry and then sit and try to get a start on more assignments and essays. You were feeling really productive after reading from your textbook last night.

The boss wasn’t asking you to work today so it must be about something else, you frowned pulling into a parking space outside the store. What if he is going to fire you? No, you were one of the best and most experienced, also the only one he trusts to lock up the shop.

The shop.

Oh hell. Last night you left those two wannabe psychopaths in the store, they could have stolen anything. If you were fired today you were going to have a breakdown. What if that weird guy had actually killed the other man, he had seemed so panicked and you just locked them in and left.

Taking a deep breath you stepped out of the car and strode into the store, bracing yourself for the worst, like to see the cash register ripped from the counter and snacks and shelves raided for free products. What you didn’t expect was the man to be sitting at a table being served coffee from the boss.

He was handsome. He was looking at the owner who was talking adamantly about compensating for something, the bell on the door had alerted the young handsome man of your arrival, his eyes flickering to you. They were so beautiful, a dark caramel and his lips pulled up into a soft smirk as he looked you over. He took a sip of his coffee to repress the smile and you looked away feeling your heart speeding up and your face flushing.

He was very handsome, unlike anyone you had ever seen. Better than any idol, he didn’t look human and you were feeling the adrenaline starting to pump through your veins, your fight or flight was prompted last time by the man’s scream and you had run away. However, this time was different. Your flight was to just freeze up and pretend you were dead like a possum.

“Ah, you are here,” Choi smiled and walked over to you and led you out the back of the shop where he had a small office/staff room which was beside a small bathroom. The boss walked you inside and explained that you had accidentally locked the handsome young man inside alone for the entire night. “We are lucky he is an honest man who said he didn’t touch anything all night but sat and waited for someone to come and open the store.

“He what?” You said, confused this man had been locked in because he was trying to kill another man, did you forget, maybe it was lack of sleep that made you see things. You had heard that stress and not enough sleep leads to hallucinations. Had you thought it all up and locked an innocent man in the shop?

No. If he was truly innocent he wouldn’t look at you like that, like he knew you, like he knew how much he scared you, like he knew you were confused about the other man and where he had gone. He knew what he was doing. You didn’t trust him and he left a sour taste in your mouth.

The boss told you, that they were lucky he wasn’t pressing charges and that he was thankful you were not hurt, “I thought that maybe this man had done something to you last night, the closing was in shambles”

“Yeah, I think lack of sleep got to me,” You admitted your cheeks flushing in embarrassment, if this was all in your head, you must be in need of a long night’s rest. You looked at the old man and touched his shoulder, “Thank you for thinking of me, I am so sorry this happened, I will go apologize to the customer and head home and rest.”

“Wait, did you check the footage?” You asked the owner, his old eyes looked up at you as he rubbed his face, pushing his wrinkles around his face with equally pruney fingers. You almost cringed at how stretchy his skin looked.

“I can bring it up,” He said and brought up the footage from last night. You could see the door open but there was no one there and you were surprised that you were looking and talking to no one. That was suspicious, had you actually imagined it all and locked up some poor young man last night? 

Walking through the aisles you saw him leaning back in the seat and you sighed, “Are you okay? I am so sorry, that I had locked you in, I haven’t been sleeping well and I think I had a moment when I started seeing things. I thought you were a murderer and was killing someone, that’s why I locked the door and ran.”

The young man threw his head back and laughed, you almost spat your drink at him. What was that laugh? It was dorky and sounded like a broken squeaky toy, you couldn’t help but laugh as well in surprise. 

“That explains why you ran and locked me in,” He wiped his nonexistent tears from his laughing and smiled at you, his teeth looked so white and perfect it made you feel self-conscious. He touched your arm and your breath hitched, “I am sorry, I frightened you, but I promise you, you can check the footage, I was the only one who came in last night.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault” You blushed again laughing and shaking your head, “I must have gone crazy”

You were happy that he didn’t seem angry at all, if anything he seemed really charming, he brushed his fingers along your arm soothingly. “You do look like you need some sleep, Would you like me to drive you home?”

“Uh... no, it’s okay” You waved your hands in protest, “Thank you for thinking of me, but I think I will be fine”

He took your hands in both of his and leaned in, you were struggling to breathe, why was this brunette bombshell so forward, “If there is anything you need, I am happy to help or even just listen. He reached behind his back and brought his hand back with a card and grinned, “My card, call if you ever get scared, or when you are tired. Imagination can make you see the scariest things.”

He held out the card and you noticed his fingers were bent strangely and you starred, “Ah, it’s a medical condition, they are called swan neck fingers, they are pretty weird aren’t they?”

“No sorry, I was just thinking about what I saw last night, you aren’t what I remember but then again I was so scared I think I imagined you more like a monster.” You laughed and he rubbed the back of his neck with a small laugh.

“Speaking of last night, have you seen a small watering can, it was a shiny yellow metal and had red polka dots on it.” He smiled but this was different, heavier, his eyes weighed you down, it was like you were being squished and your heart thumped in your chest as if repeating a mantra. Run, Run, Run. 

“A watering can?” You asked leaning away from him in your seat but the back stopped you from going as far as you wanted, “I don’t remember a watering can, I am sorry, But I can keep an eye out for it.”

His grin split huge and unnatural and you knew. You knew that he knew. You were lying to him. He could tell and he liked it, he licked his lips watching you get out of your seat and talk about your pending chores calling you.

As you walked out of the shop you could feel his gaze on you and tried to stop yourself from shivering. You failed and when you opened the car door you looked at the window and saw him laughing. 

You could practically hear the squeaky sound that didn’t fit the refined face. You drove home, stopping in the underground parking lot you looked at the business card he had given you and scoffed, scrunching the paper and throwing it onto the floor. 

You froze there was a feeling like someone was watching you and from the corner of your eye you saw something in the rearview mirror and when you looked up you thought you saw his clothes pass the back of the car but when you turned you saw the old man from the apartment next door was there knocking on the window. 

“The bins are for average household garbage only, not furniture, not metals or glass, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t fill the garbage with your cheap metal figurine. That and last night it hit the walls of the disposal shoot on the way down making a clatter, try to keep it down.”

“Sorry, Mr Choi, I had a bad night last night, I was almost killed at work, I was scared” You admitted trying to get his sympathy, he faltered and nodded before walking away, leaving the conversation as it was. 

You were standing there with the lamp in your hands and with a frown you hurried into the elevator and into your apartment. From the safety of your home, the tension in your shoulders relaxed. Taking out a pen and paper, before quickly jotting down the evidence and the memories you had. You knew it wasn’t a plausible case and wouldn’t stand in court. The evidence against you would tear your whole case into pieces and it made you mad.

You took the crumpled business card from your pocket and opened it reading the name “Kim Seokjin,” You started an online search of the name and the business but nothing appeared, you decided to ring him. Taking your phone from your pocket you hesitated to dial the numbers, getting up you punched in the numbers with determination wilting when it came to pressing the green call button. 

“Come on, he is just a guy, albeit really attractive and charming and probably a murder psycho who probably eats people” You were shaking something about calling him made you nervous, and amongst your arguing, you had accidentally bumped the call button. Placing the phone up to your ear it began speaking.

“Sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer available. Please check the number and try again.”

“Oh thank gosh,” You sighed relieved only to squeal and throw your phone in response to a sharp knock at the door. You stood there frozen in fear as the knock occurred again. Slowly shuffled over quietly, your socks muting each step as you peered outside through the peephole. When you looked you squealed again clutching your chest. Two very familiar faces were almost pressed to the door staring back at you a little distorted. Throwing the door open you practically shrieked. 

“Kim Namsoon don’t you dare do that again I almost had a heart attack, Yoonji you should know better, get in here.” You grabbed them by the jackets and pulled the two girls inside, they chuckled brandishing a bag of snacks. It wasn’t long before you were revealing all the little details of the incident that occured in the shop. You told them everything that happened hypothetically of course.

“Easy, if I was handed a lamp from a random guy on the street and told to make a wish, I would make a wish?” Yoonji shrugged.

“Well, that depends. Hypothetically, if genies were real you have a few options classic folklore genies or djinn’s are beings who snatch souls, they claim they can grant a wish but say you said I want to be rich for as long as I live, then they will hand you money and kill you instantly because you were rich until the moment you died which means that was all of your life.”

You nodded glad that Namsoon was smart and well versed in all different genres of books fiction and otherwise. She twirled her hair thinking. 

“Your choice of words would have to be specific otherwise they can use different interpretations of the words and bend the wish to their benefit. You ask for a million dollars, they might give you Monopoly money.”

“I see, that would be annoying” Yoonji huffed, arms crossing over her chest as she began thinking over her wish if she had a genie. 

“Also not to say they wouldn’t make your life miserable with your wishes, you ask to be popular or the centre of attention and you will never have a moment of peace, even the wishes they do well are so over the top it is torture”

“How would you trick a genie, while still getting the reward?”

“You would have to think of a really good wish.” Namsoon said with a small sigh, “but I don’t know how you would do it.”

The three of you watched a few movies and devoured an almost embarrassing amount of snacks. You managed to finish all your washing and after lunch Namsoon and Yoonji decided to leave you for your school work. Waving them off at the door, you had decided that whatever happened last night was all in your head. The coffee table doubled as your work area, so it needed to be cleaned before you could even think about studying. Amongst the rubbish you saw Yoonji’s headphones.

A Lazy knock at the door made you smile, that would be her. Scooping the treasured device of one of your closest friends and heading to the door. “I got them, I know you can’t live without them Yoo~oooooooou”

You physically jumped back at the sight of him standing there, your body locking up. Yet he smiled as if it meant nothing. As if he was just standing at a bus stop, not like he had somehow found out where you lived got through the security system of the apartment block and found your door.

“Ah hello,” You breathed the words like you were deflating. 

“Good evening, Miss y/n, how are you this evening?” His smile brightened flashing his shiny Colgate grin, he gave you no time to think as he reached out, was this the end. You scrunch your eyes but felt him touch your hair, peeking an eye open he took a piece of fluff from your hair. He looked at it between his fingers for a moment before blowing it away.

Something woke in you as you slammed the door in his face and locked it. Backing away nervously, you decided to call the police. You turned your back on the door and ran for your phone instead slamming nose first into a broad chest. There he was, in your house, your safe place from the world. You flailed back, tripping over nothing and falling onto your behind.

“How did you get in?” You accused from the floor

He smiled striding over and squatting beside you, holding out his hand. “Your friends let me in,” you shivered. How did he know they were your friends. This guy was beautiful but he was starting to scare you. There was something about his calm nonchalant way of his words that made it seem worse. 

“Okay, is there something you needed? Or can I get back to my work now.” You asked ignoring his helping hand, you stood up and turned to him crossing your arms across your chest. You saw him still in the same position, hand outstretched, his smile had fallen and his face was dark. He didn’t like how you ignored his hospitality you could tell as his eye twitched in annoyance, and his fingers curled up. 

Standing he brushed his hands on his pants and gave you another sweet smile, “Is there anything you need?”

“What if there is nothing I need?” You asked defensively, trying to get him to tell you why he was here, was he a genie from the strange lamp you had been given the other night or were you going crazy and he was just a murderer. Whatever it is, you wanted him to leave you alone.

“Everyone needs something, you’re humans, you always need something.” He scoffed and you pointed at him with an Aha!

“So you admit you aren’t human?” You accused, watching him walk over towards your kitchen and sit atop the bench throwing one leg over the other and intertwining his fingers together atop his lap. 

His smirk grew again in that creepy way, “what would o be if not a human?” 

“You are a genie aren’t you?”

“Gold star human, Genie is one of my names but I go by Jin J-I-N” He spelt it with his finger and the letters appeared in a pink font, like something in the harry potter movie, his name didn’t form any pseudonyms. Instead he batted the word away and it disappeared in a light pink dust. “What can I do for you, human? You can wish for anything. Choose carefully, I can get you anything you have ever desired. But I have limitations, You only get three wishes and you can’t wish for more. Other than that, have fun.”

“Wait that’s it?” You asked confused and he looked taken aback that you weren’t jumping on the chance to make wishes.

“What do you mean?” He scoffed jumping down from the bench, “Yes that is it, but why are you worried about the conditions when you just have to make a wish. I can make you beautiful or rich or have everyone love you, you just have to clearly say ‘I wish’ before you ask”

“I don’t want that,” You walked away and sat on the couch turning on the tv, “I am already beautiful and I make enough money, and I am nice so the right people like me.”

“Look you have to wish for three things and then I can move on,” He said, standing in front of the television and you sighed.

“But what is the catch, what do you get in return for granting wishes?” You asked him curious and he looked away for a moment before heading over to you in quick strides dropping to his knees and holding your hands while you leaned back on the couch stunned by his sudden forwardness. 

“This is my job,” He said sincerely and you knew he was hiding a major clause in his deal.

“I will think about the deal, and I will call you when the time comes” You said with “Close the door on the way out” 

“Fine! Where is my lamp?” Jin asked, you didn’t let your eyes stray from the television as you answered.

“You mean the metal teapot thing, I threw it down the garbage disposal, Why?” You feigned shock, “Oh no, was it really gold and rubies?”

“Yes it is real,” He exclaimed horrified, you held your ground knowing the real thing was in your dresser, but you weren’t going to tell him that. He seemed to try to calm himself down asking in a clipped tone, “Where is it?”

“I told you I threw it out, it would be crushed into scrap metal by now the bins are emptied overnight.” He looked like he was going to scream, his body flailing as he began shouting in a language you didn’t understand, whilst pacing smoke literally poured from his ears. “How was I supposed to know, just lay down on the couch”

He huffed, reluctantly crossing the room and flopping onto the couch, practically kicking you off when he outstretched his long legs. You decided to forfeit the cushioned seat and slide onto the floor, losing yourself in you studies. Admittedly it was difficult to relax having a stranger in your house lounging on your couch behind you. But, you were more interested in observing him, so you feigned indifference and let him watch television. 

Part way through your essay you heard a growl tensing once more, you had almost forgotten he was there. Turning to the offending noise, you heard it again, locating the sound to Jin’s stomach, “are you hungry?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, watching what seemed like the fourteenth episode of ‘Say yes to the dress’ there must be a marathon or something. You faintly remember him complaining during the previous episodes about people not just saying what they wanted, giving death glares into the back of your head “It is your dress not theirs. Ughhh… just say what you want so the people can get on with their jobs”

“I’m going to make something to eat,” you had said it loud enough that you hoped it would peak his interest and he would accompany you for a meal. But he didn’t seem to move an inch, it wasn’t until you had added the seasoning to the ramen purposefully leaving the lid off so you could lure him away from the Television. 

It worked. Strolling in casually as he could muster but you knew from the sound of his stomach and the tilt of his nose in the air your kitchen skills had done the job. 

“Cheese Ramen and steak?” You asked, showing him the food cooking and his lips which had been parted in awe closed with a swipe of his tongue and he swallowed heavily before looking up at you. “It’s okay to say you are hungry, I will feed you”

His ears were turning red and you grinned, “Look go grab some plates from that cupboard there,” you used your leg; sticking it out in the direction, your foot tapping against the lower cupboard, just left of the sink, “and bring them over to the bench.”

Your apartment was small and you loved it. In your kitchen everything was within reaching distance and being able to touch both walls was claustrophobic to some, but comforting to you. That and there were only six tiles on the floor that needed to be cleaned. You had never thought your kitchen was small until Jin stepped into the kitchen, You turned slightly to watch him as he slid past the bench, your hand casually stirring the ramen making the noodles had all separated.

With his eyes looking into yours, he went to step around you, his chest pressed to yours and you blushed eyes faltering and looking at his wide chest. He grabbed out the plates and began his journey back and you turned to face the stove not wishing to be face to face with the handsome features again. 

You felt his clothes brush yours as he slipped past and placed the items on the bench. Letting out a breath you began serving the dinner and he licked his lips once more. “It looks good, huh?” 

“Yeah, thank you,” JIn smiled and looked up, “Maybe I can repay you, you could wish for a grand house?”

“No thanks, that’s too much, I live alone that would be too lonely,” You laughed sitting at the tiny table, “But I would like to discuss your clauses and limits.”

“Of course, what can I tell you?” He asked curiously

“You killed that man didn’t you,” You didn’t look up from your plate not wanting to appear judgemental, who knew this was what he had to do, it never meant he enjoyed it.

“Hey, I didn’t kill him,” He said and you knew the meaning, he may not see it as killing but taking payment for the wish. You watched his expression as he ate and looked at the suit he had been wearing when you met.

The two of you ate in silence, and you raised an eyebrow, “Do you have any other clothes, or do you roam around in formal attire?”

“I have more clothes in my lamp, but I feel as though now I will have to go see someone about making me another, I need it for strangers to pick up and use” He frowned, “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could get another lamp made?”

“Can’t you just magic yourself one?” You expressed your confusion, pouring him some juice and he laughed while taking the beverage.

“No, I can’t really perform wishes on myself, I live to serve until my debt is paid. I can do tiny things but nothing like that,” He laughed dryly, you were curious as to what his debt was.

“What is your debt?” You spoke concerned as you gave Jin the other half of your steak he had been eyeing, was it because he looked so nervous to ask for more food or was it a bribe to get information from him? You liked to think it was your professionalism taking over to get information but deep down you knew it was the look in his eyes.

“It’s just something that I stupidly accepted from the beginning that I regret,” He blushed eating the steak you had given to him, you took your plate and glass to the sink and began slowly washing the plates and pots.

“So, you don’t have any other clothes?” You asked him, you knew it would be best to pull back on the questioning until you two had a better bond, there were many ways for you to get the information you wanted. You had to appear like a trustworthy friend, give him the freedom to confide in you with even the smallest things without judgement and then perhaps he would tell you what you would like to hear.

“Only what I am wearing,” He sighed, “Are you sure they have taken my lamp? The thing is wherever my lamp is I am bound to it, my master holds the lamp and calls me and I appear to grant them a wish.”

“Listen, you want people to pick you up, you have to modernize, no one uses lamps anymore, let’s look around and maybe I can buy you some sort of replacement that will work similarly,” you started, “But for now, we have two hours until the department store closes and I was wondering if you wanted me to buy you some pj’s for tonight. I can’t afford a lot but, I can get you something that isn’t this suit to sleep in.”

Grabbing your bag and coat the two of you ventured out, it was along the way that you picked up some ice cream as dessert, the two of you talked and laughed until you reached the department store. Guiding Jin through the store, he seemed to get distracted or lost in the sea of people easily. Reaching out you took his hand and guided him through until you reached the menswear section. You found him some pajamas, blue button up with an Alpaca on the front that said ‘Adventure? Al-Pack-a my bags’. It made him laugh and you giggled, you loved when he laughed, it was so silly.

You had to purchase them, it would have been a crime if you hadn’t. You had him try on the tops, so you could compensate for his shoulders and when you decided on a size you headed on and grabbed him a toothbrush and more things to get him through the night. It was a last minute decision to get him a plain white shirt and black lounge pants. With all the things in hand you started heading home.

Once home he went for a shower and came out dressed and giggling in his pajamas, he looked youthful with his hair done. He was a smart businessman with it slicked back but done he was so boyish. Shaking these thoughts you went for a shower drying your hair and stepping out in your silk camisole and shorts. You saw him tucked into your bed and you blushed, “Uh Jin, that is my bed?”

“Oh, I am sorry, I just saw a bed and assumed it was where I was staying, I forgot,” Jin sat up and went to get out of the bed and you raised your hand.

“It is a queen sized bed, I am sure we can share it without any troubles.” You got in beside him, and he settled awkwardly, now a little unsure of the situation. “Unless you are uncomfortable, I have to sleep. I have classes in the morning okay?”

“Okay, I will sleep too,” the two of you turned in opposite directions, in an effort to forget the others' presence.

It was easier said than done, the two of you shuffled around all night trying to will yourselves unconscious and yet there was no forgetting the others presence. In the dark it consumed you, the warmth from his body so close to yours made your heart race, he was handsome and you barely knew him. Your feet accidentally brushed and you retracted them muttering a sorry in the cool night air.

“‘S okay,” Jin said under his breath, the gravel in his voice told you just how tired he was as well, it made you laugh, you were both suffering in each other's company. Picking up your pillow you moved it to the end of the bed and slept the opposite way. “What are you doing?”

“It was awkward so I thought instead of laying side by side and neither of us getting sleep, we could just top and tail and then it would be like a sleep over and not so weird,” You smiled, “but since we are both still awake we can talk until we fall asleep”

“What do we talk about?” He said rolling over and looking at you from the top of the bed, “I have never had a sleepover?”

“Wait really,” You sat up and frowned, he sat up mimicking your posture unsure if he was in trouble. “So at sleepovers, you talk about everything, like the people you like, and you play games and paint each others nails and braid hair”

“And this happens at every sleep over,” He said looking at his nails, your smile broke your face as you switched on the lamp and ran from the room, he called your name in concern and when you ran back into the room arms filled with snacks you saw Jin on his knees looking like a scared child who heard a bump in the night.  

You ate snacks and painted his nails, he didn’t know what colour to choose, so you gave him a ballet pink, something cute but still subtle. “Okay, when I was thirteen I fell out of tree and got this scar on my temple, that was three stitches”

He tilted your head to see the faint scar and traced the line with his finger, he listened intrigued about your stories and soon the two of you fell asleep. The next morning your alarm sounded and you realised you were going to be late for class. You raced around getting dressed, thankful you had gotten him a white shirt, you told him to wear it and his suit pants and blazer. 

He stepped out looking breathtakingly handsome, with little effort. You gestured for him to follow and began traveling down the hall, he was smart but unsure. He made up for his confusion with the modern world with his ability to lie and conjure up needed items and documents. 

“We are taking the bus, do you have a ticket?” He nodded, brandishing a paper ticket, out of nowhere making you smile. He followed you on the bus and when you sat down he sat beside you, for a second you hadn’t expected it and you forgot you were babysitting some other worldly being.

“So, what are your classes?” He asked trying to strike up a conversation, or just genuinely curious you explained you were in a law degree, it took little time to reach the auditorium and you thanked the heavens today for only lectures, anyone could sit in on a lecture.

Halfway through the lecture your stomachs were growling, you handed Seokjin some money and you asked him to get you both something to eat. “Where from?”

Sighing you took back the money, “we will have to wait for the lecture to be over,” He pouted at the thought of not getting fed and rubbed his tummy, a little uncomfortable. 

For whatever reason you felt pity, and searched your bag, for any snacks you might have left in the bottom just in case, finding a small granola bar, you handed it over for him.

He opened it happy and when he was done he heard your stomach growl and he felt a little guilty that he didn’t share. He thought you were a bit strange. Every human he met was always quick to make their wishes, money, fame, looks, the three most common things but you were the first person that made him wait. You were the first person to give instead of take, you worried about him and took care of him, reveling in his happiness.

He offered you money and a big house last night and you didn’t want it, he wondered if there was something wrong with you. After the lectures you went to lunch, Jin sat down at the table as you ordered burgers and drinks and a plate of fries to share. Sitting across from Jin, you watched him look around at the other patrons in the neighboring tables eating burgers and chips and you smiled cheekily behind your book.

“I didn’t have much money so i just got chips to share and a drink” you lied without moving your face from behind the book.

“Ah, that is okay, I can give you money if you ask for it” He assured you

“I don’t want money?” you waved his statement aside.

“What do you want, if you could have anything in the world?” He asked 

“If I could have anything in the world, I would want to work hard for it, not make a wish, it is a waste to just have something, if I have everything I ever wanted what is the point of living” you saw the food coming towards the table and closed your book. “What’s the point of reading a book if you know the end, what’s so special about happiness if that’s all you feel, it just becomes boring.”

“What’s the point of being a genie if all you do is grant wishes and never get to live a little, you have to admit sleep overs were pretty fun huh?” You continued your lecture knowingly as the plates were placed down. “What’s the point of life if there aren't surprises to make it fun?”

He was smiling hard at the food, a little bit bashful about being tricked, he was starting to understand your point of view but he thought, this couldn’t be possible, you couldn't be the only human in the world who thought this way, could you? Then again you were the only one Jin had the pleasure of meeting and yes it was a pleasure to meet someone who actually cared about him for once.

Your phone rang, your friends were asking to come meet you at the uni and you were quick to answer and agree. You were too invested in your food that you didn’t even think about the man across from you and your friends heading your way.

“Hey, Y/n,” Yoonji and Namsoon took seats on either side of the table before looking at Jin, they turned back to you, their mouths open. You were not a professional lip reader, but your best guess of the words they were relaying were. 

‘Oh my gosh, he is so hot! Is he single? What is his name? What are you doing eating with a man this gorgeous?’ Namsoon gushed over the handsome man.

You blushed, swallowing down some soda, so you could explain. “Hey, this is my friend Kim Seokjin, he and I met at work,” not a total lie, “and we became friends”

“Oh what do you do?” Namsoon asked curiously

“Yeah, do you go to Uni?” Yoonji searched the menu not phased by his beauty. His ears went red and he looked at you for help.

“Hold that thought, go order and then we can talk,” You waved them away, laughing as they went to order obediently. “Life is full of surprises Jin, live your life today, as if you were normal, just bend the truth a little, you could say you're an entrepreneur or a life coach because you make people's wishes come true.”

“I am excellent at charming people and making up stories, don’t worry,” He sat back in his chair putting one leg over the other, “Sit back and watch the master at work”

“I haven’t even started my assignments yet,” Yoonji said walking back to the table and flopping into her chair. “I was too busy sleeping”

“Okay we are back, as we were saying, what do you do for a living?”

“I am a life coach, I make people's wishes come true, help them figure out their life and make things happen” He smiled “It’s a pretty rewarding job.”

“That sounds interesting,” Namsoon smiled “So what do you do outside of work?”

“The usual sleep, eat, watch tv, I slept over Y/n’s last night and it was fun, we stayed up a little too late, so we had to rush to get dressed and get to the lectures, we didn’t even eat breakfast we were that late” He said with a smile at you that was proud at his skills of charming the girls.

“He slept over,” Namsoon hissed at you, “You had this man in your bed last night?”

You were bright red and you tried to settle them down, but it was useless and better yet, Jin was just sitting there smug, which didn’t help the image he had painted in their heads.

“You know, good on you, you haven’t been with a guy for a very long time,” Yoonji smiled

“It’s really not like that,” You blushed, waving your hands in denial, “um Yoonji these are your headphones you left them at my house”

“Oh yeah no wonder I didn’t get any study done,” she smiled softly as you put your bag over your shoulder. “You got work?”

“Yeah I have to go or I will be late,” you sighed taking one last sip of your beverage. 

“We will clean it up you go,” they sat giggling as you and Jin left from the small fast food restaurant. 

“Ah, Jin why did you say that?” You hissed at him, “I thought you said you were a master at charming people”

“What did I do wrong? They loved me”

“They thought you and I did things last night, not just sleeping” you said and he blushed, his ears, cheeks, and neck turning bright red. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh is right” you sighed dragging him to your house where you rushed to dress for work you told him to wait at home, “help yourself to water and up to three snacks in the cupboard no more okay, watch tv, it’s a tiny shift I will make dinner when I get home” 

He nodded, “okay, water and only three snacks”

You patted his head and grinned “you are such a good listener, such a good young man”

“I feel like either I’m a dog or you're an old woman,” he poked your side playfully as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail. 

“I will be home soon,” you left and headed to your car and drove to work, you were serving customers when the lady next door came in.

“Good evening, how is business in the bakery,” you grinned cheekily, as you got her usual order ready. A cold bottle of iced tea and kimbap. 

“Not great, I haven’t sold half the stock,” she sighed, “I have so many items left.”

“Do you have an apple pie, or a strawberry shortcake?” You queried wanting to help the woman and also eat something sweet. 

“We have everything mini’s and family sized?” She sighed, opening the iced tea and drinking slowly. At the mention of family size you thought of Jin and wondered what he might like.

“I have a friend but I don’t know what he would like in ways of sweets?” You thought allowed, “but if you have something nice I would be happy to get us something to eat after dinner”

“I have just the thing,” she declared running off faster than you had ever seen her, she came back with a white box wrapped in the stores signature blue ribbon and she smiled taking only half the payment for it as she wanted you to have the cake for free but your pressed to at least pay for the ingredients. 

You carried the cake to the car and drove home, nervous to see him. You took the elevator and practiced what you wanted to say, “it’s just something the lady next door was throwing out, no that’s too like iffy, I get this all the time it’s no big deal, no that’s too indifferent and sounds a bit unhealthy”

The elevator doors opened revealing the hall filled with your neighbours and a thin blanket of smoke. Walking towards your apartment heart sinking as you saw everyone gathered at your door pushing your way inside to see a mess, there was smoke in the air and the smoke alarms were disabled. 

Putting the cake on the bench you began cleaning up thanking the neighbours for their help and concern.

“What happened?” You asked angrily, “why were you cooking—”

“I tried to cook ramen, you made it last night so I tried to do the same,” he coughed and rubbed at his smoke strained eyes. “Are you mad?”

“I am a little mad not because you almost burnt the house down, because you could have been hurt, life is full of surprises, remember and this one is one of the bad ones, but we learn and we grow from them. Now, are you okay? You seem to have inhaled a bit of smoke.”

“I’m okay, I promise” he said “I really am sorry, it’s just I have never cooked before, I wanted to surprise you with dinner”

“Well let’s sit on the balcony and have dessert instead?” You smiled and you opened the cake to see a love heart red velvet cake and you laughed. “The lady at the bakery heard I was buying a cake for you and she picked this one”

“It’s tasty” he hummed, “being a human is hard, I wish I had my lamp”

“I think you are doing wonderfully, remember the bad times make the good times good” 

You sat in silence devouring a cake together and the two of you reentered the apartment and started cleaning the kitchen until it was spotless. “I will need to buy a new noodle pot”

“You could always wish for one,” he suggested, and then upon thinking shook his head “actually that’s a silly wish, don’t wish for that”

You were surprised he said that he had been trying to get you to wish for anything since you met, but this was the first time he told you not to wish for something.

After everything was cleaned you ordered in and ate, Seokjin’s obsession with ‘Say yes to the dress’ was becoming unhealthy. It was during the fourth episode that your eyes got heavy and you thought, maybe it wouldn’t be a problem to rest your head on Jin’s chest. He wrapped his arm around you and the two of you stretched out. 

You woke the next day and was happy that you didn’t have work but you had assignments and you had to return a book to the library. Leaving Jin at home once more you swapped the book before taking a detour to the mall and getting a new sweater and pants for him. Walking inside you handed him the bag with a small smile, “I saw these and thought you might like it, try them on and see if they fit?”

He put on the sweater and pants and you felt your heart flutter, he looked really handsome. His hair was a little askew from pulling the sweater over his head, so you told him to sit on the couch running your fingers through his hair in order to style it. It seemed all this achieved was you getting lost in his handsome features, staring up at you without even trying to charm you. You messed his hair up, unable to stand how he made you feel, he whined “what’s wrong?”

“You look weird” You huffed, and crossed your arms, looking away with a pout. 

“What do you mean? I am handsome!” He said in disbelief. 

“That’s the problem, it’s hard to look at you when you’re that handsome, it makes my heart race” you admitted “if only I could just become immune, get used to it until it doesn’t bother me”

“You can look at me all you want, I don’t mind,” he said innocently, “but is this what you call life’s surprises, is it not good to see a beautiful face”

“It is nice,” I admitted, “it just makes me nervous”

Knee deep in assignments you realised you had been devoting too much of your time and attention to Jin. It was time to get to work, you had your books, snacks and drinks at your side and it was time to tackle the ethics of law assignment worth half your grade. 

Telling Jin to entertain himself, he nodded immediately flicking through the channels frowning when his favourite wedding dress reality show wasn’t playing. You eventually picked a show for him when you heard the intro to keeping up with the kardashians. He didn’t need to learn about that just yet. 

Halfway through your assignment, he saw an ad for the bite market. A market place full of food stalls where you can try all different delicious foods. Once he saw the ad he began begging you to go, he wanted to try the tornado potatoes and the crepes they had shown cooking deliciously on the TV. 

“Can we go please?” He asked rolling around on the floor and shaking you as you wrote. It wasn’t until he was sitting across from you and grabbed your cheeks bringing your face to his that you decided to take a break from your work. 

“You were saying?” You said as he held your face in his hands. 

“Uh, yeah sorry, I got distracted,” he blinked letting your face go, and looking at his hands as if they had burnt him. “Can we go to the bite market”

“Okay, let me get dressed, put on your coat and shoes” Stepping into your room, you changed into a beautiful red dress, it was one you bought online one year because you wanted the classic red dress for a romantic date, but turns out you had no one to wear it for. Until today. 

The dress hugged your curves and smoothed you out paired with heels. It gave your legs a longer appearance and your butt a more prominent appearance. You let your hair out doing a quick brush and style and some quick make up, a little eye shadow and a rosey lip stain. Topping it off with a dash of perfume you were feeling elegant and beautiful. 

You nervously stepped out into the living room and saw him handsome as ever dressed and ready with his shoes on. He looked at you, his mouth falling open and his hand immediately trying to flatten his hair in nervousness. 

“Life’s surprises, is this a good one?” You grinned cheekily

“Yes, but I am not used to it, it makes me nervous” he patted his chest as if trying to ease indigestion. You grabbed your purse and headed out to the bite market, Jin’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas you could see the sparkle in his eyes as they reflected the fairy lights between the stalls. The place looked magical and had everything you could think of. 

The two of you tried the foods and were having fun sharing a rather delicious crepe with fresh strawberries, You gave Jin the majority of the strawberries seeing how he eyed them, and he hummed “I love strawberries”

“Me too, they are delicious” you hummed happily, knowing he was happy was good enough for you, you wouldn’t tell him but this is what you would wish for just days of fun and new experiences and a friend to share it with. 

“Then why did you give them all to me?” Jin was confused, and you laughed 

“Because it made you happy, seeing you enjoy them was enough for me,” you wiped his chin of the sweet cream and laughed “they said there will be fireworks today,”

“Oh I like fireworks” he said and you kept walking and you bumped into a small group of older gentlemen. One of them turned and grabbed Jin by the collar, punching him so hard that he fell.

“Gentlemen I am so sorry that we bumped into you, how about you get something? On me” You handed them a fifty in a panic and they took it and turned to leave. 

“You’re lucky your girlfriend is smart and beautiful, or we would have beaten you to a pulp, pretty boy” once they started walking away you walked to Jin. 

You looked at him and pulled him to his feet, “are you okay?” You held his face and  frowned, there was a small thin cut near his cheek bone maybe from the man's rings. “Why is it you still look handsome? Come with me,”

You went to the open field, Jin laying out his jacket and the two of you sat on top, you would have the perfect view of the fireworks. However, fireworks weren’t on your mind. You opened your bag and pulled out a small antiseptic cream and knelt in front of him. “This will help, I got it for my hand the other day at work, it helps soothe the cut and keep it from getting infected”

He quietly let you pull his face gently closer, “are you okay, it must have been scary?”

“You stepped in front of me, what if you got hurt?” He asked, wincing as you dabbed the medicine on the cut “you also gave them your money?”

“If it’s for a friend it doesn’t count, I would give them one hundred dollars to stop you from getting beaten” you blew a stream of cool air onto the affected area the whistles and pops of the fireworks bursting in the sky behind you. But you didn’t turn around, stuck looking at Jin, like a magnet. 

You hesitated, starting to turn away, “Ah the fireworks are my favouri—” Jin grabbed your cheeks in his large warm hands and pulled you in for a kiss. A delicious twang in the pit of your stomach accompanied by the fluttering in your chest. The kiss was beautiful and like a fire burning up a match, the two of you came alive. Your hands diving into his hair as the kiss deepened and you felt him hum happily the sound rumbling his chest.

You fell apart a mere inch panting and you swallowed, trying to form words. “We shouldn’t miss the fireworks,” you scrambled to sit beside him and the two of you watched silently. Had you done the wrong thing. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, you weren’t entirely sure what he was thankful for, but you were happy anyway. 

The two of you headed home flushed from the cold wind on your cheeks, but your car heater was working to warm you both back up. You arrived at the underground parking and headed towards the staircase when you heard your phone ring. 

“Hello?” You answered into the device

“Y/n, it’s your father. He is in hospital, he really needs surgery but I was wondering if I could borrow some money from you? We will pay you back” your mother said her voice cracking with intense emotions. 

“Which hospital? I will come straight over.” You asked, heading back to the car and Jin looked confused. “Go upstairs you know the pincode for the door and rest I will be home as soon as I can” 

He nodded and followed your instruction retreating upstairs, you drove to the hospital and you got there and spoke with the doctor and your mother. Taking your savings and asking for a loan double the amount, you were able to pay for the surgery but it had left you in debt.

You waited until the surgeon stepped out to tell you how everything went and put your mind at ease before driving home knowing there wasn’t anything more you could do at the hospital. Jin was waiting on the couch looking nervous and you sat beside him on the couch.

Throwing your arm over your eyes and laying your head back on the couch, you let your tears flow. You didn’t know what you were saying when you turned Jin cheeks wet, “What would I get if I wished for money right now?”

“What happened to lifes’ surprises?” he teased, wiping the tears from your face with his thumbs, he pressed down as he rubbed them away as if they were personally offending him. His voice sounded scared and desperate, “The bad days make the good days good remember?”

“I don’t know, but, I will just have to make it work” You said crying into his chest until you were about to pass out and he scooped you into his arms and carried you to your bed where he tucked you in.

“If I asked, would you promise me to never make a wish?” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your head, you had woken when he moved you but you didn’t want him to know that.

You fell asleep soon after, emotionally exhausted, waking only to the sound of the front door closing. Looking beside you and stretching out your arm, the sheets were cold and empty. Jin was gone. You ran out of bed and out the door. 

You raced down the stairs but when you arrived he was disappearing on your doorstep, you paused panting feeling a weird sense of sadness you let him go heading back to the elevator the doors closed and you stared at the floor. The doors opened and you shuffled back to your apartment and sighed stepping inside. 

There was a note in the drawer where the lamp had been.

To y/n, 

I have always felt the presence of my lamp and found it on the first day, but out of curiosity about your intentions I stayed and over time I found myself enjoying the experiences you gave me. I admit my feelings began to grow from you being my client to being my friend. I realized I didn’t want to hurt you, I didn’t want you to use this wish and end your life. Your life's better off without me, don’t ruin it, never trust anyone who says they are a genie, they will screw you over and take your soul as payment. I couldn’t stay. I don’t want to take you from this world. You and your fathers debts will get easier, you can get through this without me.

The handsome,

Jin

You saw wet spots blooming on the paper before you realized you were crying. He had just made the decision to leave for you, because you were now his friend. That is a boat load of crap, friends don’t kiss friends the way he did the night you were watching the fireworks. What were you supposed to do now? With him by your side you felt like you could take on the world, now you just felt your tiny apartment was too big. 

Things weren’t easy, you were working twice as hard trying to pay the loan repayments. It had been three months since Jin had left and you just woke up at 10, the late shift and uni were kicking your butt. Dragging your feet you headed down the elevator in his pajamas to get the mail. Collecting the mail and heading back upstairs. You curiously opened the bank statement regarding how much you still owe when you saw your loan was already halved. There had been another account paying your debt as well. Your mother would send you half of the money to your personal account and you would pay the full amount, but who was this third party?

Your heart skipped a beat thinking it could be Jin, but you knew you couldn’t jump to conclusions. He had left and wouldn’t be bothered to do something like this. Looking at the statement it read in store payment at your local branch at the same time on the same day of the week.

12:30 Wednesday.

You looked at the clock, it was almost noon, you threw on your coat and shoes before running out the door. You rushed to the bank, racing inside. There he was standing in line in the pants and sweater you had bought for him. You were frozen in the doorway as he approached the woman at the counter.

“Back again?” the woman asked, “The same amount today?”

“Yes please,” He grinned. He handed over the cash and yawned,

“Have you been working the late shift again?” He looked tired, the dark under his eyes was a little scary, the woman gave him the receipt and he turned heading to the door. The very door where you were standing, his eyes met yours and he faltered, stopping. 

He didn’t know what to say but he looked down and grinned for a moment, “You look good,” Looking at your clothes you remembered you had been wearing his oversized blue alpaca pajamas. 

“You need to fix what you have done to my house,” You hissed and he looked confused, as you grabbed him by the hand and led him down the street. “Everything is wrong, I don’t know what you did but I want you to fix it, I can’t believe you would do something like that and then just leave, like it’s some sort of joke or prank.”

“I swear I didn’t do anything,” He said quietly, he was confused, not remembering having done anything when he left. “What happened to your house?”

“See for yourself,” you pulled him into the elevator and pressed the number for your floor, you felt an overwhelming emotion building up but you tried to swallow it back down.

He followed you to the door and you opened it up and pushed him inside, not wanting to risk that he might disappear behind you. He looked around as you pressed your back to the now securely closed door your arms crossed. “I don’t understand, what did I do?”

“Like you can’t see, Look how big the living room is, and the kitchen is too spacious and here when we used to sit there was so little space our knees would touch and now it's huge” You dragged him into the bathroom, trying to hide the way your chest was shaking with every breath, “This bench is too empty, your things used to sit there and there was hardly any room. And, And the bed, I don’t know what you did to the bed but it’s too wide, I can barely touch both sides and not too mention its always cold, it was never cold when you were here”

He looked at you sadly and he reached up wiping the tears from your cheeks, “I have done nothing to the house” He tried to soothe you, clutching his shirt you had buried your face against him and cried. “You know I didn’t do anything to the house.

“You left me alone and I don’t like it,” You whimpered,

“I wish I could stay and be just like a normal human who can love you but I can’t because I am not human,”

“I wish you were a human” He froze, pulling away and holding your face, he seemed a little excited.

“Do you really mean that?” He asked and you nodded looking up at him. Jin moved away and opened the lamp, tipping everything out, clothes and shoes and a million other things and he granted your wish. He still held the lamp and he grinned, spinning it around his finger and said “We could pawn this for a fair bit of money, yeah.”

If you enjoyed this please Like | Share so others can enjoy it as well. and check out my [MASTERLIST] for more like this content.

[universallywriting]

I'm back with another fluff prompt: Steven does one of those back-of-the-hand kisses while they're on a date and Connie tries to roast him for it, but can't, because she's a fantasy nerd so she was into it too.

a fantasy AU

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

Connie knew that the Prince of the Crystal Empire was going to come around today. After all, the princess of Delmarva attended her university, and princes were supposed to spend their days pursuing princesses. She hadn’t meant to pay any attention to the affairs of royals, so she had taken her studies to the lawn.

At the sound of hooves, her studies were interrupted. She sprung to her feet, a textbook clutched to her chest as a horse thundered her way and pulled to a noble stop.

Well. She’d assumed a horse.

She whispered a word that one should probably not say in the presence of royalty, because as sure as the sun was hot a unicorn stood before her. Pink and pink and pink again - from its hooves to the tip of its long, spiraled horn. It made a sound which was quite horsey, and flashed teeth which were very much not. Again she whispered some unsavory words at the thought of a horse with a horn and teeth like a predator.

“Sorry for spooking you,” the man said. He dressed fancy enough to be a royal, all pink and poofy with a cutout on his belly to show off a magic gem. So, surely this was the prince. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be here.”

“No, it’s fine.” She gestured to the lawn as she struggled to settle her nerves. “It’s here for everyone. Me. You. Unicorns.”

His nose wrinkled up. “He’s actually a lion under a spell. Pearl thought it would be more, um... Princely?”

His voice quirked up, and he looked horribly awkward, so she sighed and shook her head, trying to keep a laugh in her voice. “Sorry to tell you this, but the student handbook says no lions allowed. True unicorns only.”

He smiled. Stars, that was a cute smile. It really wasn’t fair to be powerful and wealthy and handsome - you should have to sacrifice at least one of those things to get the other two. He said, “That’s a really specific rulebook for a place with no magic.”

She giggled. “They heard you were coming and made some new rules.”

He slid off his lioncorn, and immediately looked less regal for it. Well, that was good. He had a sense of humor so he had to lose something to balance it out. He gently took her hand, brushing his lips across her fingers like a gentleman, then asked, “What’s your name, my lady?”

How unbelievably stupid. Her mouth tried to find the words to tease him for it - he wasn’t her prince, after all, and she was under no obligation to humor any romantical notions. Instead, she found herself oddly flustered by it, and words floundered on her tongue as she found herself struck with the fantastical nature of it all.

For heaven’s sake. She’d come to school for law.

“Connie,” she managed, trying to pretend she hadn’t squeaked. “You’re Steven, right?”

“Yeah!” He laughed. “Want to come exploring with me?”

She blinked. “I think you’re confused. I’m from a family of doctors and soldiers. I’m not who you’re here to see.”

“You’re the first person who hasn’t called me prince.” He shrugged and smiled once again. “Sounds like someone worth seeing.”

And, stupidly, she blurted, “I’m an anti-royalist” to a prince.

But he giggled, and climbed back up on his not-unicorn, and held out his hand. “Me too. Come on, I think I saw some cool waterfalls around here.”

Her arms were full of books. Law books. No fantasy story worth its salt ever had someone with an interest in law. You didn’t write stories about lawyers - not the kinds that were very nice to lawyers, at least. Girls who liked politics were hardly allowed to have romantic, fantastic adventures.

And yet soon her arms were empty, and her hand was outstretched to his.

[aperrywilliams]

Letters to me (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Summary: What happens when Reader received some love letters?

Word Count: 7436

Rating: All Audiences. I would say “Fluff” enough.

Warnings: Some curses, that’s all.

A/N: Anderson deserved better :)

——————–

If I said my life is boring working at the BAU I would be outright lying. What more exciting than chasing serial killers across the country? For real, I’ve seen many horrendous things thanks to this work, but good overcomes the bad one and at the end of the day you realize something good you are doing in this world and it gives a different taste in life.

Even though much of the time is about work, there are things even more important in this place: my friends whom are my family too. When I joined the team 5 years ago I couldn't be more grateful to the people who received me with open arms. In those years Hotch was the unit’s chief. With his always appropriate posture he was warm enough to make you feel welcome immediately. As well as JJ, García, Morgan, Rossi and the good Dr. Reid. All of them had known each other for many years, so I was the “new” one and, therefore, the team's reason for concern from then on. Despite my 27 years old they felt urge to take care of me like a little girl. It didn't bother me much, I knew it was genuine concern, but sometimes it was frustrating. I must admit it. Perhaps the only one who understood how I felt was Spencer. Sure, for many years he was the BAU's baby. Until I arrived, in fact. When we talked about it, he told me several times I was destined to be the protégé until someone new and younger arrived, he even joked about felt somewhat displaced since I came to the team.

Thanks to hours we spent working late, traveling on the jet and the hallway conversations I came to love them all as if they were my own family. I cried a lot when Hotch left the BAU, as well as when Morgan made the decision to leave as well. Of course we all understood. But feeling that nothing is forever began to provoke anxiety. It made me wonder where I really wanted to lead my life. I never doubted about  my job, of course not, but I did doubt about my personal life. I needed more things in my life and I felt like I suspended this needs because I believed the BAU was everything for me.

One day in lunch time, I told Spencer about my fears. I wasn't expecting to be very exhaustive and I wasn't expecting very elaborate advice, maybe some statistics on how people change as they get older, but just that.

“It is very common for people turned 30 to feel doubts about the decisions they make in life. There are studies that point out people who have stressful jobs delay these questions for a couple of years due to daily pressure, but it happens anyway. Even so, this type of situation is much more common in women than in men, given their state of reproductive maturity…”. This was the analysis Spencer shared with me after telling her how I felt.

"Spencer, my problem is not my reproductive maturity, if it's what you are suggesting...". I said laughing and trying to relieve the atmosphere I had caused with my questions.

"No. I didn't say that. I only said the 30-year crisis could be more acute in women given their hormonal status… ” he replied very seriously.

"So is it true I'm in the 30-year crisis?... Hell, it wasn't what I wanted to hear, but you may be right. Did this happen to you when you turned 30?" I asked to him.

"Ehhh, yeah. I think so. Back then my conflict was about the things I had accomplished at time. It is true, I had many doubts too, so I think the theory of 30s crisis is correct” he confessed.

I like talking to Spencer. Over the years we managed to establish a very close friendship. Perhaps because we are the closest in age within the team. I don't know. And even though sometimes his impulse to have data for everything despair me, his genuine concern for those around him make Spencer adorable and an impossible not to love. What I like the most is over time he also trusted me enough to speak open about himself. Sure, it doesn't something he do spontaneously, but whenever I asked him how he is or how he feel, he answers with complete sincerity. Spencer even listen to my advices and take it seriously, which I don't even do with myself, I must confess.

"And what is exactly disturbs you? What your doubts are about?" Spencer asked me. The truth I didn’t expect to development more this subject, so his question took me by surprise.

"Ehh... well, what I was saying. I don't know if I'm doing things right... or if I should make changes in my life...". Sure, but I had already said that and it was nothing specific. He knew it.

"Ok, but… what do you think you need to change (Y/N)? What do you think is missing in your life?" he asked without losing sight of my gaze. I knew the answer. But at that point I felt a little vulnerable and I didn't know if I was willing to be more detailed on the subject. And of course, it's not I didn't trust him, it's just this topic was more uncomfortable to talk about during lunch time. But… it was Spencer, my friend. Why not trust him?

"Ok. Truthfully?... Although it sounds strange, I feel I lack emotion. I mean, it's exciting to go after serial killers and all that stuff. But it’s my job. In other aspects, I feel my life is quite 'simple'…”. Spencer studied my body language closely and tried to assimilate my words. I tried to help him by digging deeper into my thoughts. “For example, my love life. It is quite simple. I've had some relationships, but I can't say I've ever fallen in love and felt reciprocated in a special way. In other hand, I know men are simple, no offence, but I’d like to find someone who is really interested in me. I don't know, having romance, something exciting, something different from the relationships I've had before…”. Spencer looked at me weirdly.

"Like… in the movies…? I didn’t think you are the type of women who like romantics fantasies..." he told me with curious eyes even after my explanation.

"No, it's not I like romantics fantasies per se... but... I don't know. It's just sometimes I don't feel wanted, do you get it? And I don't speak about sexual side. I'm talking about love, feelings, whatever that means after all…”. Spencer nodded as if he understood what I was talking about. Frankly, I don't know if he understood, but I was already feeling uncomfortable talking about this, so I didn't want to continue my explanation. I decided the topic ended there and started talking about something else for the rest of the lunch.

The weeks passed and due to the amount of cases we had, I suspended my questions and doubts for a while. We just returned from Alabama. It's was already night and I just wanted to go to my place and sleep. I was exhausted. We got to the 6th floor to collect our things. At that time there was no one left in the BAU. Just dragging my feet I managed to get to my desk site.

When I looked over my desk I saw something different: there was an envelope with my name in handwritten. I took it and opened it. Inside was a piece of paper, also handwritten, with meticulous calligraphy. That is the first thing surprised me, because I never was able to write like this. I didn't be able to do it even in school.

"Dear (Y/N). After all these years, I finally gathered the courage to send you this letter. I must first apologize myself for this boldness of mine. I do not mean to bother you but I can’t just not express how I feel about you. It’s impossible for me not to put into words what my heart is feeling at the moment. The first time I saw you, I felt like I was out of breath. Your natural beauty stunned me from the first day. Look at you walking by hallways of the FBI makes my heart pounds faster and I think every day I fall more in love with you. Yours. Anon"

My first thought was this was a joke. I gazed everywhere and only saw my colleagues with whom I had just arrived from Alabama . No one was looking at me. I felt my cheeks redden and there was nothing I could do about it. A secret admirer in the FBI?... a secret lover? I scrutinized the envelope again for any indication of the sender. Nothing. I had been working here for 5 years and something like this had never happened to me. I was speechless and didn't know what to think either. I wanted to stick with the idea it was a prank. But who would want to do me something like that? Spencer noticed my shock and asked me what was going on. I was not able to tell him what I had just seen and read. I just said "Nothing, I'm fine. Just a bad joke. Good night Spencer”. I took my belongings and left the BAU towards my apartment. That night I fell asleep thinking it must be a joke and I would have to find out who is ruthless enough to do something like this.

When I got to work the next day I immediately glanced my desk. Everything was as I left the night before. I tried to relax and even dismissed my initial idea of chasing after the person responsible for the prank of day before. I went to take my usual morning coffee and started working. It was not until after we returned from lunch when I looking over my desk and saw another envelope with my name written on it. My heart stopped and I think I stopped breathing too. Emily and JJ noticed my stupor because they immediately asked me if I was okay. I just nodded and took the envelope opening it and taking out its contents: again, a piece of paper written with perfect calligraphy.

"Dear (Y/N). I dare to send you a new letter. You should know every day passes I fall more in love with you. It's only fair I declare this because my heart would explode if I couldn't. Oddly enough, looking into your eyes I feel as I can see your soul, your beautiful soul. The one that deserves to be loved utterly, the one that deserves to be treated with all the veneration and grace in the world . If I had the courage to approach you and if you let me love you, believe me I would never could let you down. Yours. Anon"

"What the fuck ...?". It was the only thing I could say as Emily took the piece of paper in my hand and began to read it. Then she passed it to JJ to do the same. Both of them didn’t know whether to laugh or not, but when they saw my daze they chose to debrief me.

"Since when do you have a secret lover in the FBI?" J.J. asked.

"Not just any secret lover, is a lover who ‘can see her soul through her eyes’" Prentiss teased looking at J.J.

"It must be someone's prank...". I tried to reason with them.

"Why a joke? It is perfectly possible you have captivated the heart of an agent on these sides..." argued J.J.

“But in these 5 years , nothing like this has ever happened to me!” I said with stupor.

"There is always a first time..." Emily said with a shrug.

"It must be someone new..." J.J. reflected

"I don't think so, the first letter makes me think it has been here for a while...". I said as I took the first letter out of my purse and handed it to them to read.

"Years... eh?... this is new. I think someone is burning inside of love for you (Y/N)”. Emily said laughing.

For the rest of afternoon I couldn't focus on any of my tasks. All the time I was thinking about the possible men who could have written these letters. Maybe letters was not too sophisticated but to think someone from the bureau was in love with me, and for so long, did nothing but widen my heart... and my ego, by the way. I was pondering on that when Spencer peeked around my desk.

“You cannot tell me nothing is wrong with you, because you have hardly worked today (Y/N). You've been contemplating the nothingness for hours”. Again Spencer took me by surprise.

"It's just... I’m... I don't know how to say it… I’m surprised?". And without saying anything else, I handed him the two letters I received. He quickly read them and frowned.

"What really mean this about ‘looking into your eyes I feel as I can see your soul'? That is physically impossible..." he stated in a seriously tone.

"Spencer, it's a metaphor. You are a genius, I think you know what a metaphor is…”. I said with a bit of annoyance. Of course, Spencer wasn't seeing the same as I in the letters.

"Ok. Metaphor or not... it doesn't seem very sophisticated to me". Yes, he had a point. These aren't great love letters, but for me the effort could balance the lack poetry talent of my secret lover.

"Ok. Maybe he isn’t a poet after all, but I think I like it..." I said a little embarrassed to admit I was flattered. Spencer smiled.

"Maybe you really have more action in your life after all..." he told me, giving me the letters before he returned to his desk.

Two days later I got another letter. This time I saw it over the desk just arriving to the office in the morning. After grabbing my morning coffee I proceeded to read it.

"Dear (Y/N). When I saw you yesterday I felt like talking to you, but I didn't dare. I have to admit that I am too shy to approach you. I always have been, but when I fall in love is when my shyness plays against me the most. Maybe I shouldn't tell you these things, but I also want you to know me more, even if it's through these letters. In the depths of my heart I have the hope that perhaps one day we could be together, and one day I could kiss those beautiful lips. Did I say to kiss?. And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.' A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever'. Yours. Anon".

Dammit! The bastard just quoted one of my favorite plays? Shit!. Maybe he isn’t illiterate after all. Another thing I noticed: in this letter he dared to reveal a little more about himself. Something I could not see in the previous two. Would this be more than platonic?. Throughout the day, as I walked through the corridors of the FBI, I couldn't stop looking at all the men I came across. Some of them didn't even look at me while others looked at me and some even smiled at me. I hadn't realized how many people I passed through the corridors of the FBI on a daily basis. "You work doing profiles, how can you not make a profile of your secret lover?". I told myself. Well, this was already an intellectual challenge, but I needed help. That afternoon, as we were in the jet on the way to a case in Houston, I approached Emily and J.J. showing them the third letter and asking them to help me discover who it was. They were more fascinated with the challenge than I was.

With the little evidence we had, all we could say he is an agent, who works for the FBI since at least a few years, probably suffered more than one love sorrows, and this is the first time he dared to do anything like write a love letter. And of course, he knew one of my favorite plays was Cyrano of Bergerac, or at least he suspected it. So it had to be someone I talked to more than once or knew something about my life and my past. It couldn't be someone I only crossed in the hallways. His calligraphy indicated dedication, organization and emotions contained.

"I think this profile outlines 50% of the bureau officers, except for the calligraphy and the play (Y/N) likes..." Prentiss said huffing.

"Ok. And in this 50%, how many of them have spoken with (Y/N) in these years enough to know things about her? Assuming he is not someone who takes risks…” added JJ. I just shrugged and started making a list of agents I remembered having spoken more than one word in these years and who were still on the bureau. I was surprised myself how friendly am I. The list was not short.

I kept receiving letters from my secret lover. In all of them he let a little piece of his heart escape, not only screaming his love for me, but his doubts about himself. That broke my heart. Was he so afraid to talk to me? Days later I received the last letter.

"Dear (Y/N). You may have noticed my early letters were more fearful. I was afraid you would be intimidated by my boldness. Now I feel a little more confident about you at least read my letters and motivates me to write more. I never thought I was going to confess my love to a woman in this way. And it's not I have fallen in love many times before in my life. To be honest, I think very few times indeed, and to be honest, never with someone like you. You’re a very special woman (Y/N). When you started at the BAU you immediately radiated all your energy to those around you. Always gentle, with a smile on your lips. Willing to help and do your job in the best way possible. You are so understanding, you care about the rest and this quality makes any man can fall madly in love with you, like me now. Always yours. Anon"

Wait… what?!, have I known this man for 5 years? I mean, he was here when I started working in the BAU. This fact shortened my initial list a lot. I told Emily and J.J. about my new findings.

"So... who is on this short list?" Emily asked.

"Well... according to my evaluation this leaves us: Stevens, Rogers, Martinez and Anderson". I said, going through my list. And I wasn't considering just the singles mans.

"I don't think be Stevens, he's a narcissist. He's not the type to send letters. He would just come up to you and to invite you out…”. Emily said, dismissing the first suspect.

"Rogers is a shy guy. But I think hopefully he read an entire book in his life. He is more RPGs type and that kind of nerdy stuff. The writing style doesn't reveal that kind of man…” said J.J. , rejecting the second suspect.

“Martinez is recently married. I know it doesn't mean anything, but according to they said around here, he was dating his girlfriend for four years until she said yes to the question, so it would be premature to think he is thinking in another woman…”. With this statement Emily dismissed the third suspect.

"And Anderson... well, Anderson got divorced a year ago. We never knew very well what happened. I once heard Morgan to say he married her because she was his high school girlfriend, but he was never very in love with her…”. J.J. explained.

“He is a very sweet man, without a doubt. Is shy. I always see him with books walking for the hallways, it seems he likes to read… it could be someone who can write letters…”. Emily indicated.

"Maybe love letters... yes... it is possible" added J.J. Both looked at each other as if they had discovered the Holy Grail. "It's Anderson!" they exclaimed at the same time.

"Fuck..." was the only thing I could say, also noticing and reviewing all my interactions with Anderson in the past years.

It’s true what Emily and J.J. said, Anderson is a very sweet man. Always considerate, giving you a smile. Very shy, no doubt, but sweetly shy. Of course he wasn't my type. I had never seen Anderson with different eyes. And to be honest, I had rarely seen other agents with different eyes. Of course, my job is more important. I tried to go over things I've talked to him in the past, and of course, except for some social meetings in Rossi’s house, our interactions had been quite limited. But it was a fact we saw each other regularly on the BAU. And surely he had found out things about me. It had to be him.

I didn't know much what to do with this information. Well, if it was him, what I’m going to do now? Confront the poor man? I wouldn't dare. Besides, what I could to tell him? I couldn't be in love with him, however to much romantic his letters were. My heart has already an owner even if I wanted to deny it to myself. And although many times I shouted to the four winds I was looking for the love of my life, the truth is I had already found it. The problem is this love would never be corresponded. Of course, the good Dr. Reid was just my friend and I chose this before doing a stupidity and showing other feelings towards him and ruining our friendship. I was pondering about this while we were on our way to the jet for another case out of town. The same voice Spencer pulled me from my thoughts.

"Still thinking about your secret lover?" he asked sarcastically. I didn't like his tone, especially after what I was reflecting.

"Yeah. And so what if it were?". I replied abruptly.

"Nothing. It's okay. You don't have to be mad at me” he said, noticing my defensive tone.

“You men are incredible. To be honest. How a man can be so blind, so clumsy, so shy when he shouldn't and so bold when nobody asks to. A real disaster!”. I exclaimed with my arms up.

"Hey, I didn't do anything to you...". Spencer protested. I just shook my head and kept walking towards the jet.

"Well, at least now I know who is he". I mumbled dryly before boarding the jet without waiting for any response, not even hoping Spencer had heard what I said.

*******************************************

Was it true what she said before boarding the jet? Did she know who was sending her the letters? Is the reason why she was mad at me? But how can I be so stupid?, how I didn’t think she might find out at the end? Sure, I could defend myself, saying it was a joke. But it was it? I mean, at first, when the idea appeared to me it was just because I wanted to cheer her up a bit. (Y/N) looked so confused and sad. I never liked seeing her like that. Of course, my genius neurons sometimes doesn’t work in the way I would like. I thought writing her a letter and making her think she had a secret lover could get (Y/N) out of the lethargy in which she was sinking with her doubts and anxieties.

Apparently it had worked. After first letter, it was evident her mind began to wander and that cheered her up a bit. I didn't think it was a bad thing, but of course, she thought it was some kind of prank. Of course, she didn’t think someone in the FBI could fall in love with her. Why not? How about a second letter to make it clear to her? A little more bold than first one. And surprisingly to me, it seemed it was easier for me to put words on paper for her than I had thought myself. The goal was accomplished: she no longer believed it was a joke, but I had forgotten how obtuse and obsessive (Y/N) could be at times.

When I savored the pleasure of just write about my feelings for her, I started to do it with more enthusiasm. In several letters I let myself go enough to show how truly I see her. And yes, even if I had been tortured, I would have denied it to death. I wasn't going to admit I was hopelessly in love with (Y/N). Why should I? We are friends. Very good friends. She trusts me and I trust her. Why ruin our friendship for something I knew was never going to happen?. It wasn't even worth the try. After 5 years everyone assumed, and so did I, that we were meant to be friends forever, and just that, friends.

And now, after a series of letters I wrote to her, this friendship was about to break. I’m a real idiot. But before taking my responsibility in this disaster, I needed to find out more about what (Y/N) knew, because maybe only she assumed things. No one says she actually knew who was sending her these letters.

Cautiously I sat in one of the seats of the jet and began to scrutinize how (Y/N) was speaking with Emily and J.J. , all over the trip. (Y/N) looked annoyed. Damn it! Precisely that was not my idea! Just the opposite. She almost never made eye contact with me. And the time she did, her eyes revealed more annoyance. So apparently my suspicions were accurate. At moment I saw (Y/N) get up with Prentiss and go to talk to Tara and Luke. I had to find out what was going on, so I went to sit in front of J.J. to try to dig a bit about it.

"What's it Spence?" J.J. asked me once I sat and looked at her with my hands crossed on the table in front of us.

"I wanted to ask you about (Y/N)... is something wrong with her?". I asked in the most innocent way I could. She, however, raised an eyebrow and looked at me curiously.

"Why do you say something is wrong with (Y/N)?" She asked.

"Ehh, well... when we were boarding the jet she looked annoyed and she didn't want to tell me what was happening... then ...". I said trying not to stutter.

"You are worried" she interrupted. I nodded immediately.

"Is it all because of her secret lover?". I dared to ask.

"Do you know about that?" J.J. asked me. She not quite sure what I knew or didn't know.

" Yes, well... she showed me the letters...". I lied, of course.

"Well, I think we found out who he is...". I felt like I was having a hard time swallowing and some air was missing from my lungs.

"Ahhh, yeah?... wow... that's... interesting...". She nodded. "And... who is it?". I asked with fear of the answer.

"Anderson" she said confidently.

"What?, Anderson?... no way!...". I couldn't help but say it out loud. J.J. looked at me with 'shut up, they'll listen to you' eyes. (Y/N) believed Anderson sent the letters to her. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or defeated. "And how does she know it's him?"

“We discarded all the suspects from our list and we got to him. It has to be Anderson” she concluded. I swallowed harder than before and I could see she was analyzing my reaction. I tried to stay calm so as not to create suspicions.

"And... what is she going to do about it?" I asked, trying to keep my composure.

“That is what confuses her. I guess she is pondering what to do about this. So don't bother her, Spence. The poor girl is a mess of nerves” suggested JJ. I just nodded, got up from the seat and went where I was previously.

My head started to spin. (Y/N) thinks Anderson is her secret lover, and they have hardly spoken in all these years! Was I even on her list? Despite being partially relieved, my heart broke a little more. But it’s ok, it was confirmation of I already knew: 'ours' could never be a reality. Maybe it was better she thinks it was him.

*******************************************

The case was being quite demanding to get me out of my thoughts. But I still felt upset. Not with poor Anderson, not even Spencer anymore. With me. This matter was killing more of my neurons and nerves than it should. And, what would I do? Nothing, there was nothing I could do. I would just let time pass and if he didn't get close to me, I wouldn't. That would stopping letters at some point. I decided passivity would be the best strategy and I would let everything cool down.

And so I ceased thinking about it too. It was our third day in Texas and we had managed to locate our unsub. With part of the team we went to make the arrest: Luke, Emily, Spencer and me. When we arrived at the place, we noticed something strange was happening. There was no electricity in the house where our unsub was supposed to be. We had to get in, so we made pairs to cover two entrances. Prentiss and Spencer took the front door and Luke and I the back door . We got in with our lamps and scanned the place, there were no traces of our target. I noticed there was a door leading to some kind of basement, I motioned for Luke to come down with me. I was up front and he covered my back. What didn’t expecting was when I was in the middle of the stairs a hand took my foot making me fall down. Obviously I dropped my gun and the flashlight I was holding. Luke started down and before he got to where I was, I felt a strong blow to the head. After that I don't remember anything else.

*******************************************

With Prentiss we heard (Y/N) yelled from the back of the house, as well as Luke's voice shouting at someone to stop. We both ran to a door that led to a basement, we heard Luke fighting a man under the stairs. Emily immediately went downstairs to help Luke reduce the unsub, who was already badly hit so it wasn't difficult. I looked with my flashlight where it was (Y/N). Suddenly I saw her lying on the floor, unconscious. Luke yelled at me "call for an ambulance, this motherfucker hit her in the head". I froze for a second. I ran outside to alert paramedics who came to the aid of (Y/N) who was still on the floor and was not reacting. I panicked. They took her to the ambulance. In the already lit street I could see how her head was bleeding profusely. They put her in the ambulance and without thinking I got in with them. I wasn't going to leave her alone now. I held her hand. There was no reaction yet. Arriving at the hospital, I could only come with her to the emergency room entrance. From there she disappeared along with a whole medical team monitoring her vital signs. She was alive, but no one knew the severity of her injuries.

Sitting on one of the benches in the waiting room, panic didn’t leave me. True be told, it was not the first time (Y/N) had been injured during a case. But this was the first time I felt real fear for her health condition. More knowing we were not on good terms and she was possibly mad with me. I hated that feeling. I hated the feeling of knowing after all this mess my emotions were finally coming out stronger than before and maybe I wasn't even going to have a chance to open up to her about it.

I was deep in thought when Emily arrived with the entire team. They looked at me asking if there was any news. I just shook my head. Nothing was known about her yet. We all remained silent, waiting.

After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor came to talk to us.

"Family of (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?". We all stand up and approached to him. Emily spoke first seeing his visible confusion.

"We are her coworkers. How is she?" Prentiss asked.

“The hit to the head was quite strong. Fortunately, there is no major damage, except for an ugly bruise. But with painkillers and rest, she should get better with the days”. I felt my chest release from the tension. I was really relieved. We all were, really.

"Can we see her?" J.J. asked

"Yeah right. She is wake up. Follow me if you want” doctor said to JJ, but she didn’t move and on the contrary, looked directly at me.

"Spence, you should go first". I looked at her confused. She approached me and whispered in my ear: "I think it would be good if you saw her first, so you can explain to her about the letters...". I froze. How…?. I stared at her in a stun, trying for the millionth time to pretend I didn't know what she was talking about. “Don't ask me how, but I know. It's you. Don't torment her anymore, or torture yourself more with this” she said to me and went to sit where the rest was. In silence, I followed the doctor to the room where was (Y/N).

*******************************************

I love painkillers. They give you a feeling of relief and you think everything is fine, even though you know you are hurt and eventually you’ll feel as if a truck has hit you. But I didn’t care in that moment. Now I just enjoyed not feeling pain in my body. When I woke up in the hospital, I had a hard time remembering what had happened. With an intense white light blinding my eyes, I could only feel the beep of the machines and an intense pain dissipating as medicines were injected to me. There I realized what had happened. The entrance to the basement, the fall down the stairs, the knock to the head. ‘Damn bastard’ was all I thought.

In my medicinal lethargy, I had my eyes closed. My senses were lost in a parallel dimension where I could hear things around me, but without the need to be alert. That situation suddenly changed when I felt someone took my hand. I opened my eyes and saw Spencer looking at me very closely. You could tell he was inspecting my wounds. Hell, I bet I looked horrible.

"Hey ..." said Spencer when he saw I opened my eyes and was looking at him. I couldn't say anything, I just returned a smile. The truth is I was glad to see him. Plus his concerned face made him look more adorable than usual. "How do you feel?" he asked.

“At the moment… I don't feel any pain. But I know it’s going to hurt tomorrow". I said with a grimace.

"We were worried ... I was worried ..." he said muttering but in a level I could hear.

"I’m sorry it was not my intention…". I said.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. It is good to know that… you are ok”. His words were cautious. Apparently I did give them a hard time, I could guess. I also felt bad. I was aware I had treated Spencer harshly throughout these days. I had barely spoken to him, and that was unusual for us. I know he felt it too.

"Spencer... I’m sorry, ok?". He looked at me curiously.

"Why do you say that?"

"It’s I have treated you awful these days. Even before we got on the jet. Sorry, I didn't want to be mad at you"

"I’m the one who should apologize... I’ve been insensitive to you in this whole letters issue. I haven’t behaved like you needed"

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. I don't want to talk much about it, really. But it's not your fault…"

"Yes, it is…" he said with his usual stubbornness.

"Are we really going to argue over this?... no, stop it. Look. Furthermore, the matter is resolved. I know it’s Anderson who sends me the letters. And while I find it adorable, there's nothing I could do about it. I feel sorry for him, but it's not enough to… ”

"Falling in love with him...?" Spencer interrupted me.

"I was going to say it was not enough to tell him about this... but yes, I suppose there is implicitly the fact I’ll not fall in love with him". I said laughing. But my words didn't find any resonance in Spencer. On the contrary, he just stared at the floor. That was odd.

"But did you like the letters...?”. He asked in an almost inaudible voice.

“Yes, I liked them, they were very flattering, indeed. Yes, my ego went up. Yes, I found it exciting. But that’s it. I don't know if I can say much more about it. Is something wrong with you?". I saw how his hands trembled. What was wrong with him? I had never seen him like this before, at least in front of me.

 "And... what if I told you... isn’t Anderson who sent you those letters?..." he said, again in an almost imperceptible tone.

"But I know it was him... with Emily and J.J. we realized it after analyzing...". I was not able to finish the sentence, because I could see how Spencer's glassed eyes looked at me even more cautiously. He exhaled and began to speak again.

"And what is a kiss, specifically? A pledge properly sealed, a promise seasoned to taste, a vow stamped with the immediacy of a lip, a rosy circle drawn around the verb 'to love.' A kiss is a message too intimate for the ear, infinity captured in the bee's brief visit to a flower, secular communication with an aftertaste of heaven, the pulse rising from the heart to utter its name on a lover's lip: 'Forever'…” he recited almost without blinking or breathing. I recognized those words immediately. And no, it wasn't from any of the letters I showed him at the beginning, so he couldn't have memorized it... unless... fuck!

"It was you... it was you all this time...". I wasn't asking but I needed confirmation. He said nothing, just nodded. "But ... but why? What kind of prank was that Spencer?". The bastard had mocked me all this time!

"No! It was not for that. Wasn't a joke" he hastened to reply.

"No?... come on!... You wanted me to believe I had a secret lover on the FBI! It's not fair what you did. You played with my feelings and that's not fair…”

"It’s true you have a secret lover in the FBI!" he interrupted me, raising his broken voice.

"What?... now what are you going to fabricate this time...?". I said tiredly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Me. I'm your secret lover. I’m the one who loves you (Y/N). I love you. All the things I wrote, I wrote them thinking of you…” he said with a sigh of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from him. Sure, a weight that now fell on me.

"You what ...?". My head started to spin. Was Spencer Reid declaring his love for me in a hospital room?

"Yes, I must to recognize letters started because of the conversation we had one day where you told me you felt your life lacked emotion. I wanted to cheer you up a little, get you out of the routine. But... it finally became an excuse to me for tell you how I feel about you. Those I have felt for so long and I have never dared to say. And it's ok. I don't expect you to feel the same way about me. And if this means losing you as a friend, I'd rather never have. I can't bear to see you mad at me. I couldn't bear you to get away from me because of my stupidity… it doesn't make sense for me… I'm so sorry…” . By now I was sitting on the hospital bed, struggling if I got up to go to the bathroom or run out of there. It was a lot to process in that minute. Was I angry?. Was I excited?. Was I confused?. I think everything at once. I felt a knot in my stomach that made me nauseous. My eyes began to accumulate tears. My jaw began to hurt from clenching it too much.

"So... what is written on these letters... is it true?... is it what you feel?" I dared to ask, since I wasn't sure if I was understanding everything correctly. He nodded.

"Yes. I think the only thing I doubt so far was if I really can see your soul through your eyes… but that was the only metaphor that came to my mind the first time…” he said with a shy smile. I just laughed. He is an adorable dork. A dork I love with all my heart. If this is the chance, then... ok. I needed to take it. From the edge of the bed where I was sitting covered in my hospital gown, I reached out my hand to reach his. Spencer trembled a little when he felt my touch, but he relaxed when I managed to held his hand. I gently pulled him closer to me.

"I think we are both lousy profilers when it comes to ourselves, don't you think?". I said with a smile. Spencer snorted.

"Hey... precisely speaking you were the one who failed...". I shook my head.

"You still don't understand it? Do you? ... You also failed. Miserably. I can't believe you still don't realize I'm crazy about you. For so long that I can't even remember it”. I said as I kept stroking his hand. Spencer opened his eyes in real amazement, validating my theory of how bad we were by applying our profiler skills to each other.

"(Y/N)... so... are you...?". I nodded as I pulled him closer to me. I raised my head to find those beautiful eyes that ruined to me since the first time I saw them.

"I’m… lost, stupidly, grandiosely, incredibly… in love with you”. I said wrapping his torso with my arms. He returned my embrace pressing me against his chest.

"Though this confirms your theory, I am thrilled..." he proclaimed. We both laugh. Breaking the embrace, he stared at me and with his hands cupped my face, leaning enough to get us face-to-face. I just closed my eyes. It wasn't more a second until I felt his lips on mine. A long soft kiss. A kiss I had waited for so long. I’d have paid to stay like this forever, despite the discomfort of the hospital room. It was better than I even imagined. And although it happened as a result of our own missteps, it felt so good. As if fate really existed and was good for both of us. When we broke the kiss, we both smiled to each other like fools.

"Spencer ...?" I asked. He looked at me with the 'What?' implicit in his eyes. "Can I request you two things?" He nodded. "First one, could continue writing me letters like those occasionally?... Of course, now you must signed them properly". Spencer couldn't help but laugh.

"Ok. I think I can do that time to time. ¿And the second?". Spencer asked as he gently stroked my face with both of his hands.

"The second one: please don't let Anderson find out about this..."

———————

[erricdraven]

lost and found

A fantasy au wherein alec is a guardian angel, magnus is a demon who makes deals, and maybe they’re not as different as they think.

written as a gift for @ladymatt for the malec secret santa 2020

As the flames at Magnus’ feet die out, he takes in his surroundings inquisitively. Beneath his boots are tentative chalk lines, thin and light in places, that connect into a pentagram drawn on a cracked cement floor. The room he is in is vast and all but empty, with high ceilings and exposed metal beams. A warehouse, most likely; the kind of place a human might deem a safe, neutral location for a demon summoning. As he turned to his left, a woman, young in years but with a heaviness weighing on her that belied her age, was staring at him from a few feet away with a tattered hardback journal clutched in one hand.

“You called me,” he stated, standing a few steps away from the barrier line. “I assume that because you did the summoning correctly and seem…prepared, that you know what it is that I do.”

She looked almost startled at being addressed, but the expression lasted only a moment before she held it back with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. “I know what I’m doing,” she asserted, though her voice wavered slightly.

After analyzing the detailing of the pentagram, Magnus touched the tip of his boot to a symbol that had been incorrectly drawn. “It’s an impressive work, but I would suggest you study a bit more next time. This right here…leaves an opening.”

Now the woman looked terrified, frozen in place with her arms encircling her middle protectively.

With a slightly sardonic chuckle, he shook his head. “If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have pointed out your error.” He stepped closer to the edge line, closer to her. “After all, you wish to make a deal, yes? Which means you have something I would be happy to take. I don’t want to ruin that opportunity for myself just yet.”

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For a moment, he just looked at her, observing. She had very short hair, so blonde it was practically white, and deep brown, almost black, eyes. Her pupils were almost swallowed up by the darkness of the iris. There was a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and dusting the tops of her cheeks, looking oddly childlike in the midst of her worn features. He was well-versed in reading humans after all these centuries, and he could see in her an authenticity that caught his attention. “What’s your name?”

“Alana. Alana Clarke. And I want to make a deal.”

“Well then,” Magnus began, steepling his fingers thoughtfully, “tell me, to what do I owe this summons?”

“I…have something I want to forget.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word.

“Someone,” Magnus stated in realization. “A deal with me requires specificity, Ms. Clarke.”

It took a moment before she hesitantly elaborated further. “My husband. He was…cold. And unable to love, in the end. I never felt like I could leave him. One day, he snapped and I…I didn’t have a choice. I can’t let the memory of him control my life anymore. I can’t bear to let him change me the way I’m afraid he might.”

Rubbing his fingers together contemplatively, he replied, “That is a very serious choice to make. And one that cannot be undone. As luck would have it, it would be quite easy for me to give you what you’re asking for, but it has a steep price. And not just your soul. Are you certain this is what you want?”

Her silence was only too telling.

With a firm shake of his head, Magnus took a step back. “You must be sure. I am neither judge nor jury; I will only carry out what our deal entails. I urge you strongly to consider this. Memory cannot just be given and taken on a whim. Once I remove it, it will be permanent.”

Alana shook her head with a tired sigh. “I just… I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, I can’t think… I don’t know how to go on without doing something. I—” Abruptly cutting herself off, she stood up a little straighter and schooled her expression into a carefully curated stoicism. “I have to take the responsibility, and I will.”

It had been a long while since someone with such conviction had come to Magnus like this. Often, those who summoned him didn’t understand the gravity of the situation they were making for themselves, but it was their mistake to make. This time, somehow, he couldn’t bear the thought of allowing her to follow them down that path of regret lurking in the future.

“For your benefit, I will not yet make the deal,” he began. “I require certainty, and I do not see that in you. I’m going to give you another opportunity to think very carefully about just what is worth the price of your soul before you sign it over to me.”

**

The next time Magnus found himself standing in the ash and last embers of unholy flame in the middle of the old warehouse, the person standing opposite him was not Alana Clarke.

Instead, it was a tall, dark haired man with a stern look on his face, standing stock-still with his hands behind his back. He was not entirely mortal, nor human, Magnus realized upon observing the presence of spiritual matter along the lines of his shoulders and down his spine. It also wasn’t lost on him that the man had a blade made of adamas tucked away inside the folds of his jacket. It was an ancient kind of weapon, not only priceless but rare.  

The pentagram Magnus was standing on was far more detailed than the one that Alana had used to summon him, rooted in much stronger magic. The kind of magic that could only be infused by a summoner of great power. “I’m impressed,” he mused, turning in place to observe the rest of the finer detail.

“You made a deal with Alana Clarke,” the man stated coolly, as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “For her soul. And you’re going to have to rescind.”

Magnus couldn’t help but be amused by the situation. “Demon-client confidentiality prevents me from discussing any of this with you, I’m afraid.” But his curiosity was piqued. Especially when he realized that the faint smell of angel blood had permeated the air around them.

Angel blood.

“Of course, I should have realized immediately.” He stepped up to the edge line of the pentagram to look closer. “Which one of Raziel’s guardians are you?”

A soft sigh of exasperation preceded one word: “Alexander.”

“‘Defender of man’, yes? Seems fitting.” If he didn’t know better, Magnus would have said that Alexander preened almost imperceptibly at his words. “And Alana is in your care. Interesting, given the fact that she sought me out.”

The shadows of tenderness that had lingered on Alexander’s face for mere seconds at the mention of her name disappeared altogether as his expression clouded over. “She never should have summoned you. Her grief has blinded her, so I have to be the one to protect her.”

“You almost believed that when you said it.” Magnus of all people knew what lying to oneself looked like. “The truth is, it kills you that you can’t save her from this grief. Your purpose is to protect her, but there are limits to what you can control, and now you have to face them.”

“You can’t undo the past,” Alexander countered, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes in consternation. “And that’s what she truly wants. Whatever you offer her, it won’t be enough.”

“You know what she went through. You know how greatly she mourns—both for what she lost and what was never hers to begin with. There’s no price too steep for peace that can heal that kind of devastation.”

The angel visibly gritted his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping as it flexed. “Rip up the deal and give her soul back.” The slow cadence he spoke with betrayed the anger that he was sealing away inside.

“It might interest you to know that no official contract exists yet. Ms. Clarke hasn’t made her choice, so if you have concerns, you should take them to your charge herself.”

The anger stoked by Magnus’ words became increasingly apparent in Alexander, and he rolled his neck to the side slightly as if trying to shake free of something. “I won’t ask again.” When Magnus offered no reply, he took a few steps back from the pentagram. “Well, you’re welcome to rot here until you change your mind, then.”

If he were a different person, if circumstances were trivial, he would enjoy an indulgent show of his own strength. As it were, Magnus only gloated a little as he stepped over the brusque chalk line meant to confine him. “I have no plans to do any such thing.”

Alexander was speechless, his mouth slightly agape as Magnus moved towards him. “That isn’t possible. No lesser demon can—”

Reaching out with a dark red tendril of magic, Magnus held him still. “Pleased to meet you, Alexander. My name is Magnus Bane, reigning Prince of Edom and son of one of the First Hierarchy—a Knight of Hell.” When their faces were mere inches apart, he offered the faintest of smiles. “Ms. Clarke has sought my protection now, so I suggest you don’t try to interfere again.”    

**

The air in the Hunter’s Moon was thick with the scent of stale alcohol and sweat-slicked bodies, and Magnus relished it. Perhaps it was the hedonistically human part of him, but there was something magnetic about the raw electricity of bodies pressed flush against one another beneath the hot lights.

His attention was diverted, however, when he noticed the man who had just walked in and was making his way to the bar. Alexander stood out in a crowd even when he was dressed down, wearing a grey Henley and jeans.

With a subtle gesture, Magnus caught the eye of a bartender gathering empty glasses abandoned on a nearby table. “The man who just walked in—make him a Vieux Carre.” A neatly folded hundred-dollar bill materialized between his thumb and middle finger, and he offered it to her.

The woman’s bracelets made a delicate jingling sound as she plucked it from his grasp. “He looks intense. Ex of yours?”

With a chuckle, he brushed his thumb tenderly against her chin for a fleeting moment. “Discretion, Maia.”

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Courtesy of?”

“An associate.”

Despite looking thoroughly unconvinced, Maia pocketed the money and Magnus raised his drink to her in gratitude.

“An olive branch?” Alexander guessed a few minutes later, setting his glass down on Magnus’ table.

“Actually, it’s a black cherry garnish.” Magnus plucks the fruit from his glass and takes a bite of the tender flesh. “I figured a drink would be a good icebreaker.”

Alexander dropped down into the chair opposite him. “You don’t look surprised to see me here.”

“You’ve been following me on and off all day, angel. What am I meant to be surprised about?”

His expression darkens, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in consternation. “We haven’t struck an accord yet.”

Shaking his head faintly, Magnus downed the last of his Negroni. “There is nothing to negotiate. You have no claim on the contract between me and my client.”

“She is going to do this if I do not put a stop to it.” Rather than the burn of anger or the cold of hatred, Alexander looked pained to be saying those words. “I want to make a deal.”

Whatever he had been expecting Alexander to say, that certainly wasn’t it. Magnus sat in stunned silence for a beat. “Just to be clear… You want to give me your eternal soul to release Alana Clarke from a contract that she implored me to honor?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t know what he was agreeing to, and yet there was a fierce determination on his face that almost made Magnus wish that it were possible. “Let’s do it.”

“It is not possible, Alexander,” Magnus said somberly. His tone had gone soft despite himself. The desperation in the guardian’s eyes made something in his chest begin to ache. “Even if you did have a soul as the mortals do.”

It almost looked as though the faintest hint of vulnerable desperation was beginning to shine through the cracks of his façade. Instead, with a grunt of frustration, Alexander pushed back from the table and crossed his arms. “She is under my protection, Magnus.”

“In a manner of speaking, she’s under mine too.”

“If you control Edom, why even spend your time making deals for souls? Isn’t that beneath you?” he retorted heatedly.

“It’s not about the souls. It never has been,” Magnus found himself saying. It had never been in his nature to be transparent, and frankly he had never had a reason to try. The way that Alexander wore his feelings so genuinely compelled him to reciprocate. “The lesser demons who skulk around crossroads and manipulate the avaricious and covetous do so by nature. I choose the worthy summoners, the ones who want nothing more or less than resolution, and offer them peace.”

Staring down into his glass, Alexander heaved a sigh of frustration. “Indulging their emotions is not the same as protecting them.”

“That depends on who you are protecting them from, hmm?”

Something in those words seemed to reach Alexander in a way that nothing else between them had. His shoulders hunched wearily, as though a great burden had been dropped and left foregone. “I don’t know,” he surrendered.

**

Thunder rattled the window panes of the penthouse as the storm outside grew stronger, and Magnus could feel the glass shivering beneath his fingers where they were pressed on either side of Alexander’s body. They were both mostly clothed, but where their bare skin touched, it felt like fire. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the otherwise darkened living room, so Magnus used the cacophony of harsh exhales and soft moans to guide his movements.

It had to be the most profane act, because it felt like salvation.

“Nnnnh,” Alexander moaned, reaching up for Magnus’ hands blindly and intertwining their fingers.

More or less restrained, Magnus put more power into the movement of his hips. It was an inexplicable desperation that had led them to this, and now it was boiling in his blood and driving him forward.

The pleasure crested, and for one perfect moment, everything felt simple—they were just two people who found relief in wanting one another. That was how they had ended up here, after all; a categorically innocuous moment had somehow set Magnus’ skin on fire with how greatly he yearned to touch him, and everything between them had unraveled before he could do anything but follow in its wake.

For weeks the tenacious guardian had been nothing but a thorn in his side, but then all at once, something changed and Magnus could no longer remember how to simply dislike him. Perhaps he put too much stock in his heart—or whatever the son of a Greater Demon was capable of containing—to ever stay free of falling prey to the way of the mortal world. All he knew now, though, was that he felt dread like an ache in his chest at the unavoidable truth that Alexander would leave.  

“Don’t leave,” Magnus whispered breathlessly in Alexander’s ear. “You can stay the night. I want you to.”

In reply, Alexander nodded and pressed an almost reticent kiss to his lips. “I’ve already crossed the line, what’s another step?” Even pressed together in such an achingly intimate embrace, there was a hesitance in him. Perhaps he was telling himself this was a big mistake, and he would hate Magnus in the morning.

It wouldn’t be the first time, at least, so he would drink away the pain in the evening and be remade again in the morning.

Already in a sloppy state of undress, they both peeled off their remaining layers of clothing and let them fall in a heap on the bedroom floor before crawling beneath the sheets. Magnus had slept alone for so long that his heart twisted in his chest at the feeling of a warm body beside him.

Once Magnus had settled into the mattress and was lying still, Alexander slid his foot between Magnus’ calves and pressed their bodies closer. His hands were more diffident in their movements, slowly tracing a path down Magnus’ forearm and over the bone of his wrist before loosely intertwining their fingers.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just to savor this fragile piece of time, but when he opened them again, it was morning. The deep orange and red of the sunrise bathed the bedroom in a warm glow, and illuminated Alexander where he was perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you going somewhere?”

The muscles in Alexander’s upper back rippled beneath his alabaster skin as he tensed. “I didn’t want to wake you,” was all he said, but for just a moment, his eyes lingered on Magnus as if he were hoping for a rebuttal.

“We don’t have to keep doing this to each other, acting as though we’re so unalike.”

That made him look away, and he stood with his back to Magnus as he adjusted the cuff of his shirt sleeve absently. “Yes, we do. We have to be.”

“God himself created even the avenging angels in his image,” Magnus replied with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

With a wry, all but humorless laugh, Alexander shook his head. “That’s not the point, Magnus! What kind of guardian allows the ones he looks after to pawn their souls for resolutions?” He turned back to face him with hard resolve.

Magnus couldn’t help but be reminded of the volatile, at times impetuous, young man he was. He had been quick to anger, holding himself in contempt for all the things that were out of his control. “Alexander—this is her life. Do you truly prefer that she suffer through this mortal existence when that is all she gets?”

“I have failed spectacularly in the past to do the one thing I’m meant to do, and I won’t let that happen again.” Grabbing his jacket from the floor, he shrugged it on and stalked off.

**

“I’m ready,” Alana declared without preamble.

A smattering of Edom’s red dirt shook loose from the tread of Magnus’ boots as he strode over to her. “I told you that the next time you summoned me you would need to be certain. If this is your decision, then all that is left is your contract.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Magnus held up his hand and angled it above her chest. “All this requires is a mark left on your soul, like an earmark. It binds you to me.” With a languid flutter of his fingers, a deep blue energy emitted from them and seeped beneath her skin. The pulsing of her heartbeat was thrummed against his magic and he could feel it as if her heart itself were in the palm of his hand. With a final push, the energy ensnared her soul, wrapping around it like ivy on a vine and pressing in to leave behind an intricate lace of markings.

She shivered faintly and let out a short, sharp exhale. “It feels like ice.”

“It should not last long,” he assured her as he pulled his hand back. “Now, taking your memories will be painless; simply stand very still.”

As soon as he began to probe her memories, her eyes clouded over into a haze of milky white. In brief flashes, he could see through her eyes flashes of the past that she had hidden away. He could feel a tangled web of emotions, each vying for pride of place. He could hear a cacophony of her name echoing in millions of different tones and inflections. Each piece pulled at her, nearly tearing her apart from the tension about to snap. Extracting them was like sucking the poison from a wound, leaving a bitter residue behind. It had been left to fester for so long that in places the memories were like rot, but in time, they all came away. “You’re purely your own now,” Magnus whispered in Alana’s ear, and with that, he vanished from her side.

For a moment, he just stood in the alleyway behind the warehouse, breathing in the damp, cold air of the rain’s end. A few droplets dotted his face and neck, and he closed his eyes to savor it. In Edom, there was no such relief like a storm.

Suddenly, he felt a presence in the shadows, familiar and passive.

“Come to spy, angel?”

Emerging soundlessly, Alexander stood with his arms folded behind him like a soldier poised in wait.

Quirking an eyebrow, Magnus turned to face him directly. “Are you going to start a street brawl for what she willingly gave me?”

The guardian almost smiled at that, and it put Magnus more at ease. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Actually, don’t answer that. I have a feeling I would not like the answer.��� Shaking his head, Alexander continued. “I was here when Alana summoned you. But I… I decided you were right, Magnus.”

“Sorry?”

Despite himself, Alexander chuckled wryly. “I could be cast out for what I have done, but protecting the mortals entrusted to me is worth any price.”

Magnus looked at him skeptically. “Forgive me if I am hesitant to accept your truce, Alexander.”

“Who said anything about a truce?” Though his words were antagonistic, his tone was peaceable. “But I suppose I should thank you for what you taught me.”

Holding up a hand to stop him, Magnus shook his head. “Please, angel. We are not obliged to such extreme shows of good faith. Besides, Edom would freeze over, and then where would I be?”

Alexander awkwardly shifted closer. “Here’s hoping we remain acquaintances from afar.”

“As if,” Magnus waved off, pressing in closer until their chests were flush. “You like me too much.”

“I never said that,” Alexander managed breathlessly before leaning in to join their lips in a kiss that could grow a whole garden from Edom’s barren desert sand.

**

For all of its flaws, Magnus decided that he liked Brooklyn. Edom was his domain, but perhaps this could be his home.

Penthouse One had become more or less a safe haven, oddly enough. The balcony provided the perfect place for his morning meditations, the living room could host a great many guests, and the apothecary was quaint and studious. And perhaps he was indulging in feeling like a mortal at times, but what else was he to do when he was topside so frequently?

The soft click of the door opening made Magnus set down his martini and move towards the entryway curiously. In the hall, he saw a figure cloaked in a long black coat with a hood concealing their face. Boots stained with dirt and dried blood left a faint trail on the wood floor, and the bow over their shoulder was battered with scratches and dings.

“Alexander, you’re home early.”

Shaking his head free from the hood, Alexander revealed his bloodied face. “I gave myself the rest of the night off.”

With a disapproving tsk, Magnus guided his chin away from him to get a better look at the trails of crimson oozing down from his temple and cheekbone. “No rest for the wicked, hmm?”

Alexander rolled his eyes as he allowed Magnus to steer him to the couch. “I think I may have broken a rib,” grunted as he lowered himself onto a cushion.

“Take your jacket and shirt off so I can see.” Magnus gingerly sat beside him and helped to maneuver his arms from the sleeves. His knuckles faintly brushed Alexander’s upper back and his whole body tensed in reflex. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, carefully working around the cloth that covered two deep, distinct scars where Alexander’s wings had been ripped from his back some time ago. They looked much like his father’s. As soon as they worked together to peel Alexander’s t-shirt off, Magnus couldn’t help but lean over and brush his lips, faint as a whisper, against the point between his shoulder blades between the dark V-shaped scarring. “Now, let me take a look.”

“Here.” With some difficulty, Alexander rolled slightly to his left side, revealing a blossoming bruise against the side of his rib cage. After just a gentle probing of Magnus’ finger tips against the tender skin, he jerked away. “Fuck.”

“Was it worth the fight, Night Arrow?” Magnus asked with a faint smile, unearthing a package of alcohol swabs from the first aid kit they kept hidden beneath the couch for just such an occasion.

“Always. I have to do something, right?” The bitter edge in voice would likely always be there at the mention of his being cast down. The scars on his back were a reminder he would never need, because Magnus knew he could never forget.

Magnus himself would likely always be haunted by the events of the night Alexander fell from Heaven. The sight of him when he stumbled to Magnus’ door, drenched in sweat and pale as death as he bled through the scraps of fabric he had wrapped himself in still felt too unbearable to recall. Even as a mortal, he still found a way to dedicate himself to the protection of the innocent, and Magnus could never begrudge him that.

“There’s something else that might help,” he murmured, wincing as he scratched absently at the drying blood on his forehead.

Setting down the swabs, Magnus straightened up to look at him.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss,” Magnus echoed, a grin spreading across his lips. “What will you give me for it? Your everlasting soul?”

Alexander dropped his chin and his lips parted just enough to tenderly take Magnus’ finger into his mouth. His tongue was warm and soft, and Magnus felt that all too human feeling of butterflies in his stomach. Releasing him with a quiet pop, Alexander smiled. “That’s not mine to give anymore. It’s already yours.”

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, ladymatt

For @ladymatt, wishing you a lovely, safe, and happy holiday with this little malec one shot! x

Fantasy au wherein Alec is a guardian angel, Magnus is a demon who makes deals, and maybe they’re not as different as they think.

Read On AO3

*****

Lost and Found

As the flames at Magnus’ feet die out, he takes in his surroundings inquisitively. Beneath his boots are tentative chalk lines, thin and light in places, that connect into a pentagram drawn on a cracked cement floor. The room he is in is vast and all but empty, with high ceilings and exposed metal beams. A warehouse, most likely; the kind of place a human might deem a safe, neutral location for a demon summoning. As he turned to his left, a woman, young in years but with a heaviness weighing on her that belied her age, was staring at him from a few feet away with a tattered hardback journal clutched in one hand.

“You called me,” he stated, standing a few steps away from the barrier line. “I assume that because you did the summoning correctly and seem…prepared, that you know what it is that I do.”

She looked almost startled at being addressed, but the expression lasted only a moment before she held it back with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. “I know what I’m doing,” she asserted, though her voice wavered slightly.

After analyzing the detailing of the pentagram, Magnus touched the tip of his boot to a symbol that had been incorrectly drawn. “It’s an impressive work, but I would suggest you study a bit more next time. This right here…leaves an opening.”

Now the woman looked terrified, frozen in place with her arms encircling her middle protectively.

With a slightly sardonic chuckle, he shook his head. “If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have pointed out your error.” He stepped closer to the edge line, closer to her. “After all, you wish to make a deal, yes? Which means you have something I would be happy to take. I don’t want to ruin that opportunity for myself just yet.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, observing. She had very short hair, so blonde it was practically white, and deep brown, almost black, eyes. Her pupils were almost swallowed up by the darkness of the iris. There was a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and dusting the tops of her cheeks, looking oddly childlike in the midst of her worn features. He was well-versed in reading humans after all these centuries, and he could see in her an authenticity that caught his attention. “What’s your name?”

“Alana. Alana Clarke. And I want to make a deal.”

“Well then,” Magnus began, steepling his fingers thoughtfully, “tell me, to what do I owe this summons?”

“I…have something I want to forget.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word.

“Someone,” Magnus stated in realization. “A deal with me requires specificity, Ms. Clarke.”

It took a moment before she hesitantly elaborated further. “My husband. He was…cold. And unable to love, in the end. I never felt like I could leave him. One day, he snapped and I…I didn’t have a choice. I can’t let the memory of him control my life anymore. I can’t bear to let him change me the way I’m afraid he might.”

Rubbing his fingers together contemplatively, he replied, “That is a very serious choice to make. And one that cannot be undone. As luck would have it, it would be quite easy for me to give you what you’re asking for, but it has a steep price. And not just your soul. Are you certain this is what you want?”

Her silence was only too telling.

With a firm shake of his head, Magnus took a step back. “You must be sure. I am neither judge nor jury; I will only carry out what our deal entails. I urge you strongly to consider this. Memory cannot just be given and taken on a whim. Once I remove it, it will be permanent.”

Alana shook her head with a tired sigh. “I just… I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, I can’t think… I don’t know how to go on without doing something. I—” Abruptly cutting herself off, she stood up a little straighter and schooled her expression into a carefully curated stoicism. “I have to take the responsibility, and I will.”

It had been a long while since someone with such conviction had come to Magnus like this. Often, those who summoned him didn’t understand the gravity of the situation they were making for themselves, but it was their mistake to make. This time, somehow, he couldn’t bear the thought of allowing her to follow them down that path of regret lurking in the future.

“For your benefit, I will not yet make the deal,” he began. “I require certainty, and I do not see that in you. I’m going to give you another opportunity to think very carefully about just what is worth the price of your soul before you sign it over to me.”

**

The next time Magnus found himself standing in the ash and last embers of unholy flame in the middle of the old warehouse, the person standing opposite him was not Alana Clarke.

Instead, it was a tall, dark haired man with a stern look on his face, standing stock-still with his hands behind his back. He was not entirely mortal, nor human, Magnus realized upon observing the presence of spiritual matter along the lines of his shoulders and down his spine. It also wasn’t lost on him that the man had a blade made of adamas tucked away inside the folds of his jacket. It was an ancient kind of weapon, not only priceless but rare.  

The pentagram Magnus was standing on was far more detailed than the one that Alana had used to summon him, rooted in much stronger magic. The kind of magic that could only be infused by a summoner of great power. “I’m impressed,” he mused, turning in place to observe the rest of the finer detail.

“You made a deal with Alana Clarke,” the man stated coolly, as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “For her soul. And you’re going to have to rescind.”

Magnus couldn’t help but be amused by the situation. “Demon-client confidentiality prevents me from discussing any of this with you, I’m afraid.” But his curiosity was piqued. Especially when he realized that the faint smell of angel blood had permeated the air around them.

Angel blood.

“Of course, I should have realized immediately.” He stepped up to the edge line of the pentagram to look closer. “Which one of Raziel’s guardians are you?”

A soft sigh of exasperation preceded one word: “Alexander.”

“‘Defender of man’, yes? Seems fitting.” If he didn’t know better, Magnus would have said that Alexander preened almost imperceptibly at his words. “And Alana is in your care. Interesting, given the fact that she sought me out.”

The shadows of tenderness that had lingered on Alexander’s face for mere seconds at the mention of her name disappeared altogether as his expression clouded over. “She never should have summoned you. Her grief has blinded her, so I have to be the one to protect her.”

“You almost believed that when you said it.” Magnus of all people knew what lying to oneself looked like. “The truth is, it kills you that you can’t save her from this grief. Your purpose is to protect her, but there are limits to what you can control, and now you have to face them.”

“You can’t undo the past,” Alexander countered, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes in consternation. “And that’s what she truly wants. Whatever you offer her, it won’t be enough.”

“You know what she went through. You know how greatly she mourns—both for what she lost and what was never hers to begin with. There’s no price too steep for peace that can heal that kind of devastation.”

The angel visibly gritted his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping as it flexed. “Rip up the deal and give her soul back.” The slow cadence he spoke with betrayed the anger that he was sealing away inside.

“It might interest you to know that no official contract exists yet. Ms. Clarke hasn’t made her choice, so if you have concerns, you should take them to your charge herself.”

The anger stoked by Magnus’ words became increasingly apparent in Alexander, and he rolled his neck to the side slightly as if trying to shake free of something. “I won’t ask again.” When Magnus offered no reply, he took a few steps back from the pentagram. “Well, you’re welcome to rot here until you change your mind, then.”

If he were a different person, if circumstances were trivial, he would enjoy an indulgent show of his own strength. As it were, Magnus only gloated a little as he stepped over the brusque chalk line meant to confine him. “I have no plans to do any such thing.”

Alexander was speechless, his mouth slightly agape as Magnus moved towards him. “That isn’t possible. No lesser demon can—”

Reaching out with a dark red tendril of magic, Magnus held him still. “Pleased to meet you, Alexander. My name is Magnus Bane, reigning Prince of Edom and son of one of the First Hierarchy—a Knight of Hell.” When their faces were mere inches apart, he offered the faintest of smiles. “Ms. Clarke has sought my protection now, so I suggest you don’t try to interfere again.”    

**

The air in the Hunter’s Moon was thick with the scent of stale alcohol and sweat-slicked bodies, and Magnus relished it. Perhaps it was the hedonistically human part of him, but there was something magnetic about the raw electricity of bodies pressed flush against one another beneath the hot lights.

His attention was diverted, however, when he noticed the man who had just walked in and was making his way to the bar. Alexander stood out in a crowd even when he was dressed down, wearing a grey Henley and jeans.

With a subtle gesture, Magnus caught the eye of a bartender gathering empty glasses abandoned on a nearby table. “The man who just walked in—make him a Vieux Carre.” A neatly folded hundred-dollar bill materialized between his thumb and middle finger, and he offered it to her.

The woman’s bracelets made a delicate jingling sound as she plucked it from his grasp. “He looks intense. Ex of yours?”

With a chuckle, he brushed his thumb tenderly against her chin for a fleeting moment. “Discretion, Maia.”

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Courtesy of?”

“An associate.”

Despite looking thoroughly unconvinced, Maia pocketed the money and Magnus raised his drink to her in gratitude.

“An olive branch?” Alexander guessed a few minutes later, setting his glass down on Magnus’ table.

“Actually, it’s a black cherry garnish.” Magnus plucks the fruit from his glass and takes a bite of the tender flesh. “I figured a drink would be a good icebreaker.”

Alexander dropped down into the chair opposite him. “You don’t look surprised to see me here.”

“You’ve been following me on and off all day, angel. What am I meant to be surprised about?”

His expression darkens, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in consternation. “We haven’t struck an accord yet.”

Shaking his head faintly, Magnus downed the last of his Negroni. “There is nothing to negotiate. You have no claim on the contract between me and my client.”

“She is going to do this if I do not put a stop to it.” Rather than the burn of anger or the cold of hatred, Alexander looked pained to be saying those words. “I want to make a deal.”

Whatever he had been expecting Alexander to say, that certainly wasn’t it. Magnus sat in stunned silence for a beat. “Just to be clear… You want to give me your eternal soul to release Alana Clarke from a contract that she implored me to honor?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t know what he was agreeing to, and yet there was a fierce determination on his face that almost made Magnus wish that it were possible. “Let’s do it.”

“It is not possible, Alexander,” Magnus said somberly. His tone had gone soft despite himself. The desperation in the guardian’s eyes made something in his chest begin to ache. “Even if you did have a soul as the mortals do.”

It almost looked as though the faintest hint of vulnerable desperation was beginning to shine through the cracks of his façade. Instead, with a grunt of frustration, Alexander pushed back from the table and crossed his arms. “She is under my protection, Magnus.”

“In a manner of speaking, she’s under mine too.”

“If you control Edom, why even spend your time making deals for souls? Isn’t that beneath you?” he retorted heatedly.

“It’s not about the souls. It never has been,” Magnus found himself saying. It had never been in his nature to be transparent, and frankly he had never had a reason to try. The way that Alexander wore his feelings so genuinely compelled him to reciprocate. “The lesser demons who skulk around crossroads and manipulate the avaricious and covetous do so by nature. I choose the worthy summoners, the ones who want nothing more or less than resolution, and offer them peace.”

Staring down into his glass, Alexander heaved a sigh of frustration. “Indulging their emotions is not the same as protecting them.”

“That depends on who you are protecting them from, hmm?”

Something in those words seemed to reach Alexander in a way that nothing else between them had. His shoulders hunched wearily, as though a great burden had been dropped and left foregone. “I don’t know,” he surrendered.

**

Thunder rattled the window panes of the penthouse as the storm outside grew stronger, and Magnus could feel the glass shivering beneath his fingers where they were pressed on either side of Alexander’s body. They were both mostly clothed, but where their bare skin touched, it felt like fire. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the otherwise darkened living room, so Magnus used the cacophony of harsh exhales and soft moans to guide his movements.

It had to be the most profane act, because it felt like salvation.

“Nnnnh,” Alexander moaned, reaching up for Magnus’ hands blindly and intertwining their fingers.

More or less restrained, Magnus put more power into the movement of his hips. It was an inexplicable desperation that had led them to this, and now it was boiling in his blood and driving him forward.

The pleasure crested, and for one perfect moment, everything felt simple—they were just two people who found relief in wanting one another. That was how they had ended up here, after all; a categorically innocuous moment had somehow set Magnus’ skin on fire with how greatly he yearned to touch him, and everything between them had unraveled before he could do anything but follow in its wake.

For weeks the tenacious guardian had been nothing but a thorn in his side, but then all at once, something changed and Magnus could no longer remember how to simply dislike him. Perhaps he put too much stock in his heart—or whatever the son of a Greater Demon was capable of containing—to ever stay free of falling prey to the way of the mortal world. All he knew now, though, was that he felt dread like an ache in his chest at the unavoidable truth that Alexander would leave.  

“Don’t leave,” Magnus whispered breathlessly in Alexander’s ear. “You can stay the night. I want you to.”

In reply, Alexander nodded and pressed an almost reticent kiss to his lips. “I’ve already crossed the line, what’s another step?” Even pressed together in such an achingly intimate embrace, there was a hesitance in him. Perhaps he was telling himself this was a big mistake, and he would hate Magnus in the morning.

It wouldn’t be the first time, at least, so he would drink away the pain in the evening and be remade again in the morning.

Already in a sloppy state of undress, they both peeled off their remaining layers of clothing and let them fall in a heap on the bedroom floor before crawling beneath the sheets. Magnus had slept alone for so long that his heart twisted in his chest at the feeling of a warm body beside him.

Once Magnus had settled into the mattress and was lying still, Alexander slid his foot between Magnus’ calves and pressed their bodies closer. His hands were more diffident in their movements, slowly tracing a path down Magnus’ forearm and over the bone of his wrist before loosely intertwining their fingers.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just to savor this fragile piece of time, but when he opened them again, it was morning. The deep orange and red of the sunrise bathed the bedroom in a warm glow, and illuminated Alexander where he was perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you going somewhere?”

The muscles in Alexander’s upper back rippled beneath his alabaster skin as he tensed. “I didn’t want to wake you,” was all he said, but for just a moment, his eyes lingered on Magnus as if he were hoping for a rebuttal.

“We don’t have to keep doing this to each other, acting as though we’re so unalike.”

That made him look away, and he stood with his back to Magnus as he adjusted the cuff of his shirt sleeve absently. “Yes, we do. We have to be.”

“God himself created even the avenging angels in his image,” Magnus replied with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

With a wry, all but humorless laugh, Alexander shook his head. “That’s not the point, Magnus! What kind of guardian allows the ones he looks after to pawn their souls for resolutions?” He turned back to face him with hard resolve.

Magnus couldn’t help but be reminded of the volatile, at times impetuous, young man he was. He had been quick to anger, holding himself in contempt for all the things that were out of his control. “Alexander—this is her life. Do you truly prefer that she suffer through this mortal existence when that is all she gets?”

“I have failed spectacularly in the past to do the one thing I’m meant to do, and I won’t let that happen again.” Grabbing his jacket from the floor, he shrugged it on and stalked off.

**

“I’m ready,” Alana declared without preamble.

A smattering of Edom’s red dirt shook loose from the tread of Magnus’ boots as he strode over to her. “I told you that the next time you summoned me you would need to be certain. If this is your decision, then all that is left is your contract.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Magnus held up his hand and angled it above her chest. “All this requires is a mark left on your soul, like an earmark. It binds you to me.” With a languid flutter of his fingers, a deep blue energy emitted from them and seeped beneath her skin. The pulsing of her heartbeat was thrummed against his magic and he could feel it as if her heart itself were in the palm of his hand. With a final push, the energy ensnared her soul, wrapping around it like ivy on a vine and pressing in to leave behind an intricate lace of markings.

She shivered faintly and let out a short, sharp exhale. “It feels like ice.”

“It should not last long,” he assured her as he pulled his hand back. “Now, taking your memories will be painless; simply stand very still.”

As soon as he began to probe her memories, her eyes clouded over into a haze of milky white. In brief flashes, he could see through her eyes flashes of the past that she had hidden away. He could feel a tangled web of emotions, each vying for pride of place. He could hear a cacophony of her name echoing in millions of different tones and inflections. Each piece pulled at her, nearly tearing her apart from the tension about to snap. Extracting them was like sucking the poison from a wound, leaving a bitter residue behind. It had been left to fester for so long that in places the memories were like rot, but in time, they all came away. “You’re purely your own now,” Magnus whispered in Alana’s ear, and with that, he vanished from her side.

For a moment, he just stood in the alleyway behind the warehouse, breathing in the damp, cold air of the rain’s end. A few droplets dotted his face and neck, and he closed his eyes to savor it. In Edom, there was no such relief like a storm.

Suddenly, he felt a presence in the shadows, familiar and passive.

“Come to spy, angel?”

Emerging soundlessly, Alexander stood with his arms folded behind him like a soldier poised in wait.

Quirking an eyebrow, Magnus turned to face him directly. “Are you going to start a street brawl for what she willingly gave me?”

The guardian almost smiled at that, and it put Magnus more at ease. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Actually, don’t answer that. I have a feeling I would not like the answer.” Shaking his head, Alexander continued. “I was here when Alana summoned you. But I… I decided you were right, Magnus.”

“Sorry?”

Despite himself, Alexander chuckled wryly. “I could be cast out for what I have done, but protecting the mortals entrusted to me is worth any price.”

Magnus looked at him skeptically. “Forgive me if I am hesitant to accept your truce, Alexander.”

“Who said anything about a truce?” Though his words were antagonistic, his tone was peaceable. “But I suppose I should thank you for what you taught me.”

Holding up a hand to stop him, Magnus shook his head. “Please, angel. We are not obliged to such extreme shows of good faith. Besides, Edom would freeze over, and then where would I be?”

Alexander awkwardly shifted closer. “Here’s hoping we remain acquaintances from afar.”

“As if,” Magnus waved off, pressing in closer until their chests were flush. “You like me too much.”

“I never said that,” Alexander managed breathlessly before leaning in to join their lips in a kiss that could grow a whole garden from Edom’s barren desert sand.

**

For all of its flaws, Magnus decided that he liked Brooklyn. Edom was his domain, but perhaps this could be his home.

Penthouse One had become more or less a safe haven, oddly enough. The balcony provided the perfect place for his morning meditations, the living room could host a great many guests, and the apothecary was quaint and studious. And perhaps he was indulging in feeling like a mortal at times, but what else was he to do when he was topside so frequently?

The soft click of the door opening made Magnus set down his martini and move towards the entryway curiously. In the hall, he saw a figure cloaked in a long black coat with a hood concealing their face. Boots stained with dirt and dried blood left a faint trail on the wood floor, and the bow over their shoulder was battered with scratches and dings.

“Alexander, you’re home early.”

Shaking his head free from the hood, Alexander revealed his bloodied face. “I gave myself the rest of the night off.”

With a disapproving tsk, Magnus guided his chin away from him to get a better look at the trails of crimson oozing down from his temple and cheekbone. “No rest for the wicked, hmm?”

Alexander rolled his eyes as he allowed Magnus to steer him to the couch. “I think I may have broken a rib,” grunted as he lowered himself onto a cushion.

“Take your jacket and shirt off so I can see.” Magnus gingerly sat beside him and helped to maneuver his arms from the sleeves. His knuckles faintly brushed Alexander’s upper back and his whole body tensed in reflex. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, carefully working around the cloth that covered two deep, distinct scars where Alexander’s wings had been ripped from his back some time ago. They looked much like his father’s. As soon as they worked together to peel Alexander’s t-shirt off, Magnus couldn’t help but lean over and brush his lips, faint as a whisper, against the point between his shoulder blades between the dark V-shaped scarring. “Now, let me take a look.”

“Here.” With some difficulty, Alexander rolled slightly to his left side, revealing a blossoming bruise against the side of his rib cage. After just a gentle probing of Magnus’ finger tips against the tender skin, he jerked away. “Fuck.”

“Was it worth the fight, Night Arrow?” Magnus asked with a faint smile, unearthing a package of alcohol swabs from the first aid kit they kept hidden beneath the couch for just such an occasion.

“Always. I have to do something, right?” The bitter edge in voice would likely always be there at the mention of his being cast down. The scars on his back were a reminder he would never need, because Magnus knew he could never forget.

Magnus himself would likely always be haunted by the events of the night Alexander fell from Heaven. The sight of him when he stumbled to Magnus’ door, drenched in sweat and pale as death as he bled through the scraps of fabric he had wrapped himself in still felt too unbearable to recall. Even as a mortal, he still found a way to dedicate himself to the protection of the innocent, and Magnus could never begrudge him that.

“There’s something else that might help,” he murmured, wincing as he scratched absently at the drying blood on his forehead.

Setting down the swabs, Magnus straightened up to look at him.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss,” Magnus echoed, a grin spreading across his lips. “What will you give me for it? Your everlasting soul?”

Alexander dropped his chin and his lips parted just enough to tenderly take Magnus’ finger into his mouth. His tongue was warm and soft, and Magnus felt that all too human feeling of butterflies in his stomach. Releasing him with a quiet pop, Alexander smiled. “That’s not mine to give anymore. It’s already yours.”

[holdmyowos]

College (Dabi x Female Reader)

Damn if this ain't the most toxic shit I've ever written ☠️

👀 Don't worry about me

Sorry guys

Dabi's a switch in this one. Impossible, I know. Sorry Daddy Dabi you'll have to wait.

Includes: Oh boy do we have warnings for you. Weapons, toxic relationship, cussing, angst, NSFW stuff etc, etc. Pretty much if you're sensitive to anything, this isn't the place for you lol

College AU

Quirkless AU

Ok onto the story

You had just barely started college, freshman year, and you had already fallen for a bad boy. It was on a field trip, you had never seen him before until you saw him on the bus. He had a long, dark jacket with tatters at the ends. He had more piercings than you had ever seen, all over his body, from on his nose to his ears to his wrists. He had dark black hair that fit him perfectly and startling turquoise eyes that twinkled. You walked up to him, and flirted with him for a while, wanting to make a good first impression. "I hope next year we get to have class together," you finished, hoping that was not too obvious. He nodded. The whole conversation he hardly talked, but when he did he had a really raspy, deep voice, for someone so young. Perhaps he was a smoker. It was quite soothing, actually. He seemed to never get angry or raise his voice. He said his name was Dabi. An odd name, sure, but you accepted it.

About a year later a message popped up on the email you used for your school, which was supposed to be only used for school related things. You saw that it was from Dabi. It read,

'I love you. Do you have something more private, like an email or phone I can text you on?'

You almost threw down your phone in shock. After only flirting with him a little, the next year he still remembered you? You must have made a good impression for him to confess out of the blue like that. Either that or he was playing you.

You hardly ever text, so you messed with your settings trying to figure out your phone number. You were not the best at technology. You sent him an email with your number, eagerly awaiting a reply from him.

Almost as soon as you sent it, you saw a text pop up on your phone. He must have been waiting for you. Soon you're texting nearly nonstop, staying up late at night just to message each other. He changes his icon to your favorite anime character. Even more you two have in common. Sadly, this did not change much in person at the campus. The two of you had awkward exchanges in real life, but with texting you had chemistry. How could that be? The two of you only ever had lunch together, no other classes. You sat together, but never really talked. Sometimes you even texted each other at lunch. You had to admit it was pretty dumb, but there really was no better way to interact, if every time you tried talking he had nothing to say.

One night, you were up late getting texts from him.

'Cookie?'

'Cupcake?'

'Honey?'

'Sugar?'

You had no idea what he was talking about, so you did not reply.

'Hey, are you there?'

You had no clue what he was trying to tell you, but you did not want to be rude and say nothing back. So, you simply wrote,

'What?'

'Sorry I thought you stopped texting me and I had a mini panic attack.

Princess I was merely just thinking of the perfect nickname for you'

You chuckled.

'I think you found it.'

"How many piercings do you have? Including the staple stitches I've seen, you have over a hundred," you said at lunch. He nods. "Yeah, probably. One of my friends does piercings for free. I have even more that you can't see though." He motioned down to his chest and stomach and his... you gulped.

The next few days, he opened up about his past a bit. He belonged to the rich Todoroki family, but it was a big secret because they half disowned him. It seemed like a dark and tragic past, so you did not pry very much. Your phone vibrated with a text from him.

'I was thinking about you...in my bed.'

Your heart nearly stopped. He never said anything like that before. Did he mean he was in his bed thinking about you, or having some odd fantasy? You rolled your eyes. Eventually, the two of you would need to have a conversation about the limits of your 'friendship'. The two of you were not even officially in a relationship.

You tried to set a time to meet him, out of school hours, but it never worked out. It seemed you always had to cancel for some reason, and you left him alone. The guilt was starting to catch up with you. You promised yourself you would make this meeting, no matter what came up.

'Meet on the school's balcony that is looking over the city at 9 tonight.'

You knew which place he meant. Many people from your college went on dates there. You had never been, but you had heard there was a really good view of the city from there. The stars were slightly visible, as the campus was on the edge of the city. You crossed your arms, leaning against the railing, gazing up at the stars. Someone came up behind you, running their arms along yours, putting their hips on your butt. "Who's that?" You asked, nonchalantly. "You look cute in that position." Dabi chuckled, and let go of you. "It's so peaceful from up here." Even the low purr of engines and hum of the city kind of faded into the background. You nodded. He slid next to you in the corner where the rails crossed, and held onto your waist. "Princess, I love you." He gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I love you too, Dabi."

The next day, you were walking by a grocery store and you stopped dead in your tracks. Dabi was on the front cover of the newspaper. The caption read 'Whole Todoroki Family Accused Charged With Abuse and Fraud'. Remembering that Dabi was a Todoroki, you flipped through the pages. There was no way he was connected with that sort of stuff, right? He was disowned, after all. There was nothing in the article specifically about Dabi, but there he was on the front page, so he must have done something.

'It's over. I could never be in a relationship with a criminal.'

Surprisingly, he texts right back.

'Wait what?'

'What do you mean?'

'Please don't leave me.'

Your finger hovers over the block button, and you click it before you think about it. "Goodbye, Todoroki," you whisper to yourself, shoving the phone into your pocket. You needed to get out of the dorm. You went on a run around the neighborhood.

Dabi had taken to wearing a leather jacket. A year later and the two of you were still dodging each other in the halls of school. You had memorized both of your schedules, and whenever you saw him in the hall you would advert your downcast eyes, or try to take another path altogether. Every single time you saw him, you got a twinge of guilt. He needed someone to love him, but you were not there for him. Somehow, Dabi had weaseled his way out of going to jail with the rest of his family, and you had to put up with the guilt of ending that relationship. You knew it was hella toxic, but you really had liked him. Sometimes you stayed up at night and thought of how things could have been. You talk to your friend on the phone. "Honey, those bad boys are only good for a one nighter type of deal. It wouldn't have worked out any other way." You sighed. "I suppose you're probably right. But still..."

You had not looked into his eyes in a few months. It hurt too much. As soon as you saw his leather jacket or messy hair, you immediately looked away. So, you were very surprised when Dabi backed you into a corner one day at lunch, followed by his friends, one with oddly red eyes and another with golden yellow. The only word that fit them was thugs. You protest. "Dabi, please leave me alone. I can't take the heartbreak." He presses something cold, metallic, and cylindrical to your side. You look down, and gasp. "Don't look at that. Look at me. In the eyes. Look what you've done to me." Slowly you look up at him. He had bags under his eyes as if he hardly slept. "Come on, doll. Let's take a break. Come with me." You nod. You were not risking your life for anything. One you were outside with him and his friends, he switched his weapon to a knife that the blonde had given him. He twists it into your side, along the fabric of your dress, tearing it slightly. "Now, let's go to our dorms." You might miss next class, but right now that was at the back of your mind, with all that was happening. He backed into his room with you, and shut and locked the door, his friends leaving him. You realized that you had never seen his room, except for when you had FaceTimed him once. It was all black and very dark colors, with a few bright neon blue things that seemed almost out of place.

"Why did you flirt with me freshmen year if you didn't want to be in a relationship with me?" He had dropped the knife on his nightstand and was laying one his bed in a very stressed out manner, his hands over his face. If you wanted, you could leave. Just hearing his voice again made you want to cry. The pang of heartache once again broke from your chest, even though you had thought it was finally gone. "Fuck, Dabi! How many times are we going to do this? That was insane what you just did. You just threatened to kill me just so you could talk to me?!" You did not know what to say. "Well there wasn't much choice. You were avoiding me!" He flung his hands up in the air. "Well you were avoiding me too, you know." The bell rang, signaling that the two of you would be late to your next class. "I really needed someone. And you weren't here for me." He curled up on his bed, looking weak and exposed. Instead of escaping as you know you should, you knelt down and gave him a hug. "I'm willing to forgive if you are." He sniffled, and nodded, and got up out of bed. "Well, there is one condition. You made me late to class." He rolled his eyes. "Your majesty, whatever can I do to make it up to you?" He said in a sarcastic tone. "Well how about for starters you make me feel good," you said in a joking tone, straddling him. He chuckled. "Your voice tells me one thing but your eyes and body say another. The thing you joked about? You really wanna feel my piercings against that horn lil' cunt of yours, don't you?" He smiled widely. You don't think he had ever smiled before, at least not that you had seen. Your cheeks became red, and you slowly nodded in embarrassment. "I will make you feel really good. After all, princesses deserve to get pampered." He pressed you down onto him. "Of course, you need to do something for me too," he all but purred, shifting your hips against his for friction. "Oh princess, how I've longed for this. So badly." He was actually crying of happiness. Wow. You felt warmth on your heat. He looked so cute beneath you like this. Was he a sub? You always thought he seemed like a dom. You slowly started to touch his crotch, your whole body rocking against him. He roughly grabbed you. "No, no. You might be a princess, but I'm dom. You got that?" You laughed at him. "Nuh-uh!" He came up to you for a passionate deep kiss. Your tongues fought for dominance, neither of you giving in.

Eventually, Dabi broke away. "I-I don't know what to say. I never lost. Hell." He started breathing heavily. "Do nothing. Just pay attention to me," you said, cockily, sliding down his pants to his knees. You played with the waistband of his boxers, but then started to take off your own clothes. You could tell that Dabi was itching to do something. You placed his hands under your bra, and he immediately got hungry, groping you. You took off your bra, and he started teasing your nipples, dragging you down closer to him. You slipped off his shirt. He had even more piercings than you thought humanly possible. Ones across his stomach, on his belly button. Even on his nipples. You took off your pants and started dry humping him, feeling his bulge against your clothed heat. He let out a slight groan. You got off and slowly pulled his boxers down. He left your chest alone and started touching himself, at the base of his shaft and his balls. "You just can't control yourself, can you?" You looked down. He was huge. I mean, you did not think dicks came in his size. He had piercings all along the shaft, and on the tip in a Prince Albert. You helped the poor guy by squeezing his shaft and tracing his tip, careful not to disturb the piercings too much. "I don't like to think how someone else touched you to get those piercings of yours. Was it a pretty chick? Or some ugly old fat guy?" He was lost, his hips bucking into your hands. When you stopped, he said, "What?" "I said who did your piercings." He had a devilish smirk plastered on his face. "Oh, he was super hot. Yellow hair, golden eyes. Goes by the alias Hawks. If you ever want to get your nipples pierced, I highly recommend him," he said as he flipped on top of you, pinning you down. His turquoise eyes burned into you, as if a blue flame. "And you thought I would be sub. What a bitch you are," he laughed as the straddled your stomach. You would not let him get away with that. You smeared the small sphere of precum over his head and put him in your mouth, sure it would shut him up. "Hey!" He protested, but slowly gave up and started making small noises. Since he was so huge, you could only fit about three fourths of him in your mouth. "You just... want to be stuffed full of my cock, don't you doll?" He pushed himself in further, and you took him out of your mouth. He whined in protest. "Princess, please! What are you doing? Quit playing games with me," he growled. It was funny how deep his voice sounded, yet he was whining like a small child. "I can't let you have all the fun." You pushed him pack so that he was between your legs. He slipped off your underwear in delight, catching your drift. He lined himself up with your hole, and shoved his tongue in. He let out humming vibrations that tickled. You arched your back in pleasure. "You really like that hmm?" He made you a sloppy mess before him, growling into your pussy like an animal. He lined himself up with you, and slowly pushed himself in. Every time one of his piercings caught against you, he would slow down and moan. When he finally was all the way in, he filled you up, tears pricking your eyes. "Such a stretch for your tight little thing." He slowly thrusted in and out, you clenching around him. It was not long before you came.

The bell rang, surprising you both. You threw up your middle finger. "Fucking see if I care. I'm staying right here." Dabi chuckled and snuggled against you. "You're mine."

[freddiesaysalright]

Soft in Love Part 3

A Gwilym Lee x Student!Reader Fic

Summary: Y/N is an acting student in her last semester of college. When a professor unexpectedly can’t make it for the senior capstone class, a very famous (and handsome) substitute is called in. When they connect, they face a few challenges.

Word Count: 3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​ @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @benders-diamond-earring​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @anincurablefangirl​, @kiainspace​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @god-save-the-deaks​, @assembledherethevolunteers​ @misslolasworld​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: So, some more pining and drama. Y’know, the usual.

Warning(s): Some guys being sketchy with women’s drinks.

Part 1  Part 2

Part 3 here we go!!!

Thankfully, the weekend passed without incident, though you found yourself thinking of Gwilym more often than you liked. Every time you read your library book, you thought of that moment among the shelves. Any time you ran lines, or sang from the show, you thought about the way he played the piano, and how you laughed together afterward. His smile, his eyes….

“Get a grip,” you scolded yourself.

And yet, you found yourself eager for the end of the weekend and anticipation for Tuesday morning.

You arrived early again, feeling oddly hopeful. Maybe you could rehearse “The Boy Next Door” again. You loved that song already, but singing it with Gwilym was something else. When you entered the auditorium, you were disappointed to find that instead of your handsome professor, Daniel, your ex, sat in your usual seat.

“Sup?” he said with a cocky nod. “Expecting someone else?”

“No,” you replied coolly, turning away to go and sit elsewhere.

You found another seat and pulled your book out, eyes going over the words, but not really absorbing it. You could feel Daniel gazing at you with such an infuriating smirk on his face. After about two minutes, you slammed your book shut and looked sharply at him.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing,” he replied with a shrug. “You look nice.”

“Shut up,” you returned. “Just tell me what you want and stop staring at me.”

“There’s a party Friday night,” he said. “At a friend of mine’s place. You should come. Bring Sloan too.”

“Why would I want to go to your dumb friend’s party?” you shot back. “If you need a date so bad, why don’t you just ask Allison?”

Allison was the name of the girl he had cheated on you with. Daniel frowned at the mention of her and it was your turn to smirk.

“What else are you going to do?” he challenged. “Sit at home at masturbate thinking about Gwilym?”

Your face heated up at the idea as well as the fury you now felt toward Daniel. 

“You’re an asshole,” you spat.

“Why, ‘cause I’m right?” he returned.

“No, because you’re clearly just butthurt that I don’t care about you anymore,” you said. “So you’re saying things just to try and make me feel like shit.”

It also struck a nerve. Not because he was right, but if even Daniel thought your behavior toward was exceptional in any way, then it was a problem. You were going to need to back off of him. Plus, you were beyond tired of hearing about it. One week of this man teaching classes, and rumors were already starting.

“Just come to the party,Y/N,” he sighed. “There’ll at least be free booze.”

You considered it. You really despised parties because of the crowds and the noise. But Sloan loved parties, and she might feel robbed if you didn’t at least tell her about it.

“I’ll see what Sloan wants to do,” you conceded.

He pumped his fist in the air. “Hell yeah!”

Your other classmates began trailing into the auditorium, followed shortly by Gwilym. You beamed at him as he passed you, which he returned. You remembered Daniel’s words and immediately adjusted your expression to something more neutral. Gwilym didn’t notice, since he began taking roll. Today was focused almost entirely on music, so you didn’t get to talk to Sloan about the party right away.

All through rehearsal, you avoided Gwilym like the plague. He approached you once with an expectant (and dashing) smile on his face, and you quickly ran off to grab some water. When he gave you direction on your song with Sloan, you nodded curtly and said nothing. You tried to always thank your directors for feedback, but you were so afraid of appearing too eager to please him now.

Edith on the other hand, had no such qualms. With you avoiding him, she moved to fill the space, brazenly flirting. She batted her eyes. She found any excuse to touch him. And once, while she was whispering something in his ear, she shot you a dirty look. You couldn’t be bothered about what she may have said. It was likely it wasn’t even about you, she just wanted to get in your head. Well, you weren’t going to let her. Besides, Gwilym was not yours to be jealous or possessive over.

When class drew to an end, Edith squeezed Gwilym’s bicep.

“Thanks for a great class today,” she said with a wide smile.

“I’m just doing my job,” he returned politely.

“Well, you’re very good at it,” she insisted.

You resisted a brutal urge to roll your eyes. You looked at Sloan to get the image of Edith’s desperate eyes out of your head.

“Hey, you wanna go to a party on Friday?” you asked.

She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Y/N?” she returned.

“Dan invited us,” you said. “He said his friend is having one. He mentioned bringing you specifically, so…”

“I’m always down for a party,” she said. “Are you actually going to come?”

You glanced back toward where Edith was now twirling her hair around her finger as she spoke to Gwilym. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined he had his usual polite smile. An idea formed.

“Yeah, I’m gonna come,” you said.

“Alright then,” she agreed, a surprised smile claiming her lips. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too!” you agreed.

You left class without saying anything to Gwilym or Edith, just giggling excitedly as you exited the auditorium.

Gwilym’s eyes were trained on your back until you disappeared and the door closed behind you. He’d caught a whiff of you scent as you rushed by with Sloan. He wondered what made you both so silly. He heard Edith talking, but didn’t register the words she was saying. His mind was completely distracted by your behavior towards him.

You were normally quite friendly, but today, you seemed off. When he saw you were behaving as usual with your friends, he got nervous. What had he done to offend you? He hadn’t even seen you since last week’s class, except for once on Friday afternoon when he passed you on the way to his car. Even then, he had just smiled and waved. What had changed between now and then?

“Gwilym?” Edith said, a little louder. 

He shook his head to clear it.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “What is it?”

“I said, I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee sometime?” she replied.

He felt the color drain from his face.

“Oh…” he said. “Oh, I - well, I’m flattered, Edith, but the university has strict rules about professors fraternizing with students.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m some eighteen year old,” she argued. “I’m a grown...experienced woman.”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“You’re putting me in a very awkward position,” he said.

“What position is that?” she asked, stepping closer.

“The position of rejecting you,” he replied as gently as he could.

“Because of the rule?”

“Even in spite of it.”

The air thickened. Her face fell as she looked at him and then down at the floor.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, I see.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m just not interested. You’re a lovely person, I’m sure, but -”

“Save it,” she said, holding up a hand to stop him. “I don’t need to hear a lame ass excuse.”

She snatched up her bag, turned on her heel, and swept out of the room. Gwilym took a deep breath as the door closed behind her, leaving him mercifully alone. Again, his thoughts went to you. He wondered what he might have said if it had been you standing there instead of Edith. Yet, from the way you were acting before, he assumed he would never have to answer that question.

On Thursday, class went similarly. Only, you noticed you weren’t the only one giving Gwilym a bit of a cold shoulder. Edith was making quite a show of ignoring him. When he was directing others, she would cross her arms over her chest and huff, turning her head sharply away from him. It all seemed to go unnoticed by Gwilym.

“What’s up with her?” you wondered.

“I heard she asked him out and he turned her down,” Andrew said.

Your heart gave a jolt of excitement.

“Really? Where’d you hear that?”

“Mary,” he said. “You know how they’re kind of friends. Apparently, he spouted some excuse about school rules before flat out telling her he wasn’t interested.”

“Damn, that’s cold,” Sloan chimed in.

“I didn’t know the school had rules about that,” you said.

“They’re super strict,” Andrew said. “I looked it up after I heard this story and it could result in the professor’s termination and the student’s expulsion.”

You blinked, surprised.

“That seems awfully drastic,” you said. Then you smiled. “Especially for something that’s evidently such a popular porn trope.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“That’s just it, though,” he said. “It’s a fantasy.”

“Relax, I’m only kidding,” you replied. “No, it’s probably for the best. I mean, the lines are blurred because of the power dynamics and all that. It’s not an ideal situation for anyone.”

Sloan said something else that you didn’t quite hear. The triumph you felt at Gwilym’s rejection of Edith had ebbed away entirely. Now, you only thought about that rule. You looked at Gwilym as he spoke to Mary and Leon, who played your mother and father in the show, and felt an ache in your heart.

The following day, you went to Sloan’s to get ready for the party together. Andrew wasn’t going, since he had work on the weekends. Sloan did your makeup for you and everything, and you had a feeling the time with her was going to be the most fun you had that night.

You took a Lyft to the party, after Daniel texted you the address. When you arrived, it was in full swing. Music made the walls seem to shake as bass thumped along with whatever song was playing. The low lighting made you squint as you headed for the kitchen, needing a drink. Alcohol was probably the only thing that would get you through the nonsense. But you had to do this.

Sloan chugged a beer and then scanned the crowd. You watched her, her eyes like a panther on the prowl. She spotted a man she deemed attractive, and she pounced. You admired Sloan’s boldness. If she wanted something, she went for it. And if she got rejected, it rolled right off her back. You sometimes envied her confidence.

You looked around at the sea of people and tried not to get overwhelmed. You were hoping to start up a flirtation with someone so that people could see you were just friendly and totally not into your hot professor. When no one really struck your fancy, you sighed and retreated to the corner.

That was where Daniel found you.

“Hey, Y/N!” he shouted over the music. “Glad you made it!”

“Me too!” you returned.

It was a lie, but you didn’t care about lying to him.

“Wanna dance?” he offered.

“Nope,” you answered.

“Come on, one song!”

“No thanks!”

“How about you join me outside?”

That sounded better. Getting out of the sweaty bodies everywhere and the pounding music would be a relief. So you nodded, following him out to the back porch. With the door shut, the sounds of the party were instantly dulled. To your irritation, you were out here alone.

Daniel pulled out a cigarette. He offered the pack out to you, but you shook your head. He shrugged, stuck the cigarette in his mouth, and lit it. He took a long drag and then blew the smoke away from you.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said.

“Oh, how rare for you,” you returned.

“Come on,” he groaned. “I’m trying to tell you something.”

“I don’t really care to hear anything you have to say.”

“I’m really sorry about Allison, okay?” he went on. “I want to give us another chance.”

“Well, I don’t,” you said firmly. “If this was your reason for inviting me, I’ll just go home.”

“Don’t be like that,” he pleaded.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snipped. “You’re acting like we were in love or something. We dated for four months, you cheated on me, I ended it. Don’t pretend I broke your heart.”

“What if you did?” he asked

“I know that I didn’t.”

He chuckled, smoke billowing out between his lips.

“You’re such a bitch,” he laughed.

You sneered at him. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Is this because you want to fuck Gwilym?”

“You know, as much as you talk about him, I’m beginning to think you want to fuck him,” you spat.

“I might, if he wanted me too,” he shrugged. “I’m nice.”

“Piss off.” 

You went swiftly back inside. Daniel just wanted a bed warmer tonight, you were sure. He didn’t want to get back together. But it upset you enough that you were going to find Sloan and tell her you were leaving. You stepped through the door and looked around. 

She wasn’t in the kitchen, so you assumed she was still dancing. Pushing through the crowd, you headed that way. When you got there, you carefully searched for her face. You didn’t see her anywhere. Worry started to grip you. Where was she?

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, only to discover it was dead. You cursed yourself for forgetting to charge it while you got ready. You now needed your friend to use her Lyft app as well. But still, you couldn’t find her. And you couldn’t text or call her.

“Sloan!” you called out, heart beginning to race.

You heard no response.

“Sloan!”

Again, nothing.

Full on panic set in, and you began aggressively pushing people out of your way to look around. Sloan was nowhere to be found. Taking a deep breath, you hurtled up the stairs and began checking the bedrooms, still calling out for her.

“Sloan!” you cried, bursting through the last door in the hall.

There she was. She was lying on a bed, unconscious. Her clothes were on, and there was no one else in the room. You flew to her side and started patting her cheeks to try and rouse her.

“Sloan, come on,” you urged. “Hey, Sloan, can you hear me?”

She groaned and rolled her head from the left to the right. But she was still not awake. The door opened again and your eyes snapped to the intruder.

“Hey!” he cried. “What are you doing in here?”

“What are you doing in here?” you demanded. “Why didn’t you tell someone she was passed out?”

“She’s fine,” he argued. “We were just about to have some fun.”

Your eyes went wide, horrified.

“She can’t have any fun, she’s barely conscious!” you spat.

You started to pull her off the bed, putting her arm around your shoulders. Her limp body was heavy, nearly making your knees buckle, but you weren’t going to leave her here with this dirtbag. Not if it was the last thing you did.

“Get out of my way,” you said firmly, hoping your voice did not betray your fear. The guy was pretty big - you assumed he was an athlete - and you weren’t sure you could overtake him if the situation called for it.

“You can join the fun too, y’know,” he said.

“I’d literally rather die,” you retorted. “Now get out of my way. Don’t make me call my boyfriend up here.”

He rolled his eyes and thankfully stepped aside. 

Getting down the hall was no problem, but the stairs proved to be difficult. You were out of breath by the time you were halfway down. You were also pretty disgusted that no one seemed to notice you struggling. And if they did, they weren’t offering any help.

“Y/N…” Sloan mumbled, before her head lolled against your shoulder again

Slowly, staggeringly, you made it to the front door. You grabbed your purses and slung them precariously across your body. By some miracle, you were able to open the door. The sound of pouring rain made your heart sink. Great.

Despite the downpour, you stepped onto the porch. Holding Sloan tight against you with one hand, you fished around in her purse with the other. You found her phone quickly. With a victorious swish, you pulled it out and tried to unlock it. To your dismay, hers was dead too.

“Fuck!” you cried, stamping your foot.

You turned around and looked inside, hoping to see Daniel. Maybe you could pop back inside and ask to use his phone. It would hurt your pride, but some things had to be sacrificed in this sort of scenario. You couldn’t see him. Frustrated, your mind raced for something to do, some way to get home without a phone or a car. Then, your body froze as you saw the guy from upstairs and two other guys just his size coming toward the door. They looked dangerous.

Terrified, you maneuvered out into the rain as fast as you could go. Hair and makeup be damned, those guys had something sinister in mind and you were not going to allow them to do it, even if you collapsed from exhaustion.

The water dripping over your face proved a bigger challenge than you anticipated. Your vision was completely blurred as the droplets clung to your brows and lashes. The darkness didn’t help. You shivered, despite the warm air. Your body was so weak just from getting her out of the house. How were you going to make it all the way back to her apartment? 

Suddenly, two lights were heading down the street. Headlights.

You glanced back and saw the three guys emerge from the house. Then, you took a chance and launched yourself out onto the road, waving your free hand wildly.

“STOP!” you shouted. “Stop! Please stop!”

The car screeched to a halt. The driver pulled around you slowly before stopping and rolling the window down, revealing himself. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“Y/N?”

“Gwilym?”

[captain-aralias]

“Fuck the Mage” – a look at the politics of Carry On’s most and least popular characters

I’ve written this not to try and make anyone feel bad about liking Baz, or Fiona, or Natasha, or any of Baz’s family (I like Baz and Baz’s family). I haven’t even written it to try and make it OK to like the Mage, or to stop it being OK not to like him. (It’s OK to not like him – he’s a bad guy.)

But we’re coming up to another general election. Today is actually the day of the Conservative party manifesto launch! And I said I would write this to @basic-banshee, who I like and admire, and who was right to say Baz is a Tory earlier in the week. 

It feels like the right time.  

I should also say now that I don’t closely follow politics. This isn’t my specialist subject. I’m just British and I live with a hardcore socialist. 

I also think I said all of these things in The Mage’s Heir already, so if you want you can read that instead. It has vampire sex too, which this doesn’t.

(Keep reading will take you to an essay that is almost five thousand words long. So strap in.)

---

"One will come to end us; and one will bring his fall” - the narrative drive of the Chosen One story

It is a truth universally acknowledged that ‘Carry On’ is based on ‘Harry Potter’. More than that, though, it’s specifically a challenge to the kind of book that Potter is – in which a hero is chosen and fulfils his destiny defeating the big bad. It purposefully subverts the expectations of readers familiar with that sort of story.

That means that, where the villain in ‘Harry Potter’ is a racial supremacist who is obviously and actively evil, the supposed big-bad villain in ‘Carry On’ doesn’t really exist. The Humdrum is just an echo of Simon, who by the end of the book identifies himself as the villain as well as the hero. This is a neat twist on the format. It isn’t supposed to be an argument that all heroes are actually the causes of their own destruction, although you could read it that way.

The real villain is the Mage. Who in classic Dumbledore fashion left Simon to be raised in horrible conditions and never gave him enough information to make his own choices. He also murders Ebb, locks Baz in a coffin in inhumane conditions, and let vampires into Watford – an event that directly or indirectly led to the death of Natasha Grimm-Pitch.

This is again a twist on the format. The Mage fills the role of the wise mentor and we find out as early as ‘Fangirl’ that he’s Simon’s father. Even though there’s a strong movement that argues that Dumbledore is a manipulative dick who used to date a Nazi, I don’t think anyone would call him the villain of Potter. He’s still far more good than bad and he’s still absolutely necessary in helping Harry work out how to defeat Voldemort.

That’s why the Mage has to be the villain – it’s because you wouldn’t expect it of the person in his narrative role or with his political views. (I’d guess it’s not supposed to be a statement about all wise mentors, though it could be. Or even all socialist reformers.) It’s also because the kinds of things that Dumbledore did to Harry are worse when viewed through the more personal lens of YA romance, rather than the more traditional school-story fantasy of Potter.  

Fandom is essentially united in its absolute condemnation of the Mage as a character.

He’s almost always written as an abusive father in fic. (This is particularly noticeable for me in non-magic AUs where he often physically and mentally hurts Simon outside of the fantasy genre where sending a child to take on a dragon is loosely acceptable.)

Penny tells us that he’s sexist (although Agatha – who also doesn’t like the Mage – points out that it’s possible the Mage just hates everyone). Penny tells us that anyone can call themselves the ‘Great Reformer’ and she’s right. The Mage’s Men are actively equated to Nazis through their raids, which is backed up by other familiar emotive language like ‘banned books, banned phrases’.

But the thing is, the Mage really was a great reformer. And Baz’s family really were a bunch of privileged, self-centred assholes who deserved not to be in charge, no matter how much we like them. We don’t talk about it much, beyond how Malcolm’s (very standardly conservative) homophobia affects Baz on a personal level, because the emotions of the story lead us down a different path.

Baz is the romantic hero, Natasha Pitch is his dead and wronged mother, and the Mage is the villain. Not because he’s a Nazi (he isn’t). Not even because he killed Ebb or imprisoned Baz.

It’s primarily because, unlike Natasha, he isn’t a good parent.

Which is fine. It makes sense for all the reasons above, and the Mage is a bad parent

But the problem with ‘Carry On’ being an inversion of the tropes of traditional narratives is that we end up with a canon that (even though it’s full of POC characters and gay characters and disabled characters) almost asks us to be OK with the politics of Baz’s family and class, because we like Baz and we don’t like the Mage.  

And they’re not really OK.

“Not one of ours” – the Old Families as Conservatives

I’ll talk more about the Mage later, but he exists as a reaction to the Pitches, so let’s talk about their political leanings first. Specifically, I’m going to talk about Loyalty, The Other, Vampires, and Taxes.

Ban wrote a nice and also brief description of what Conservatives/Tories are to start you off, if you didn’t read it. Later an anon (sorry if this was you!) said that Rainbow would never have really meant for Baz to be read as a Tory. 

But I’m pretty sure she did and I respect how much she didn’t shy away from it.

In fact, the only way I can imagine Baz and his family not voting Conservative/Tory is if they just didn’t vote at all, because they thought Normal politics were unimportant. Which is also a highly privileged position to take as it assumes that none of them will ever need to take advantage of Normal public services and that it’s no concern of theirs what happens to everyone else in the country i.e. this is the one situation where not voting Tory is actually the most Tory thing you could ever do. 

1. Loyalty

Now obviously Baz’s family do care – passionately – about the people they care about. This is one of their most appealing characteristics as characters. It’s very likeable and understandable. Rainbow has suggested Baz is a Hufflepuff. Hardworking – and (this is the key) loyal. I see it, although I think he would have turned out very differently if he’d been told from the age of eleven that this is who he was, rather than being essentially told he was a Slytherin. But that’s a detour.

The problem with being loyal is that there are people you aren’t loyal to, and you can see this clearly in the Pitches. The people they love must be protected, even at the expense of everyone else. Its barely a choice. Although the Pitches would never betray each other, they’re famous betrayers.

I adore Fiona, she’s one of my favourite characters. But she is also – as Rainbow stated recently – ‘a dangerous lunatic’. She is hardly bothered when the specific action that she insights Baz (a child) to take against Simon (a child who hasn’t done anything to her) causes Philippa Stainton (another child who really hasn’t done anything to her) to be permanently disabled.

Baz is almost unable to comment on how this event makes him feel even in his POV - probably because he’s loyal and he doesn’t want to criticise Fiona. Although we know it causes him to stop trying to kill Simon, so I’d guess that it troubled him, even if it didn’t trouble Fiona. (We’ll come back to Baz as part of his family later.)

2. The Other

If Natasha were still in charge of Watford, Trixie wouldn’t be allowed to attend. Gareth wouldn’t be allowed to attend. Simon wouldn’t be allowed to attend. The Minotaur worked on the grounds, since ‘creatures weren’t allowed on the staff’ (which is horrifically racist language, even if it’s true.)

Oddly, Simon is able to voice this within the text (probably because he’s been hanging around with the Mage so much), although his opinion is disregarded because it sounds naïve and because even he tell us that he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“I still don’t think it’s a war,” Agatha insists. “It’s just politics, just like in the Normal world. The Mage has power, and the Old Families want it back. They’ll bitch and moan and cut deals and throw parties---” “It’s not just politics.” Simon leans towards her, pointing. “It’s right and wrong.” Agatha rolls her eyes. “But that’s what the other side says, too.” … “It’s not just politics,” he says again. “It’s right. And wrong. It’s our lives. If the Old Families had their way, I wouldn’t even be here. They wouldn’t have let me into Watford.” “But that wasn’t personal, Simon,” Agatha says. “It’s because you’re a Normal.”

Firstly – it probably was personal, let’s face it. But secondly – even if it wasn’t personal-personal, it’s still an example of a prejudice that echoes the distain people like the Malfoys have for ‘Mudbloods’. Just because Simon could be the first Normal to gain magic, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be allowed to join Watford. The Mage shouldn’t have to give him a title and a sword just to get him in.  

Simon’s right, even if he doesn’t mean it this way. Politics affects people’s lives.

“Ask Natasha Grimm-Pitch about suicide rates among low-magicians,” the Mage tells Mitali Bunce – who is right that killing people isn’t the answer, but also not nearly as progressive as she thinks she is. “Ask your Coven what they’re doing to fight pixie sticks and every other magickal disease that doesn’t affect their own sons and daughters.

3. Vampires as a specific example of the Other

Natasha and the Old Families were in charge when Nicodemus Petty joined the vampires. It wasn’t the Mage who struck Nicodemus’s name from the book and pulled out his fangs. Which we’re told is fine, actually, because it’s against Mage Law. Even though the idea of this happening to Baz is horrific and unthinkable, and even though we have no evidence that Nicky ever killed anyone. Just that he wasn’t human.

If you’ve read ‘The Mage’s Heir’ you’ll know I think Nicky is a very interesting character to bring into this space. He’s powerful and he’s innovative, inventing spells Baz has never heard of even after he has his magic taken away from him. He’s like the Mage, and like the Mage (who is from Wales, which is traditionally a very poor area of the UK), he’s clearly from a low-class family. The accent that both he and Ebb have is East-End London, which means they’re poor. Even though they’re powerful magicians and therefore theoretically as valid as the Pitches in the Pitch-world order.

Yes, he chose to become a vampire and Baz didn’t but partly he’s punished for being poor and trying to become more powerful in a way that the Pitches don’t understand. He wasn’t necessarily going to kill anyone.

Are vampires even bad?

Because Baz isn’t bad – or not just because he’s a vampire, anyway. We see Simon wrestling with this in ‘Wayward Son’ and he struggles because of his personal hatred for Lamb.

Even (and perhaps especially) under the Mage, the World of Mages just uniformly accepts that a whole group is evil. I think ‘Wayward Son’ begins to trouble this, even as Lamb betrays Baz and vampires are the enemy. But we find Baz actually thinking: “I’m not used to thinking of vampires as fellow victims.”

What he means is that he’s not used to thinking of them as people.

It’s completely appalling to keep Baz in a coffin – I’m sure we all agree with that. If it was another vampire, would the Old Families and the rest of the World of Mages feel the same way, or would they think that was a proportionate response?

When we talk about the death of Natasha Pitch we talk about the Humdrum having killed her, or the Mage having killed her. The vampires are presented as a random instrument of death (which if they had been taken over the Humdrum they would have been), rather than people who were paid by the Mage to do something.

The way the situation is presented to us in the Record, by Natasha herself, and by popular memory is that monsters broke into the nursery and would have killed Baz and Natasha if she hadn’t responded as she did.

However, Nicky says to Baz: “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he meant for your mum to die – but I don’t think he minded much. Made everything a lot easier.”

So it’s at least worth contemplating a reality where this is what happened:

The Mage paid vampires to break into Watford and cause a disturbance. He didn’t think anyone would die.

One of the vampires bit Baz but didn’t intend to either kill or Turn him, which we know is now a possibility but which nobody in the World of Mages had ever bothered to find out.

Even if the vampires did intend to Turn Baz, it could easily be a political statement – an opportunity to show that even a Pitch could be a vampire and that the World of Mages might like to reappraise its choices.

When Natasha arrived, she saw her son being threatened, acted on her prejudices and didn’t ask questions. She murdered a large group of people who had broken into her school, but who otherwise hadn’t necessarily done anything wrong.

I don’t say this is what happened, just that it’s a possibility. 

Even if these vampires are evil and this was a terrorist attack (a phrase I’m using deliberately) the fact that presumably most of the others aren’t evil is still relevant. We barely scratch the surface of what this means for the World of Mages even in ‘Wayward Son’. 

One of the things I think that’s most interesting about the Mage’s rise to power is that he does using the same hateful speech that the Old Families use, just exclusively directed against the Dark Creatures, rather than all creatures and low-powered magicians. It probably made it easier for him to gain support because these are views that everyone holds, but it’s completely at odds with his whole stated reason for being in charge.

Definitely not ideal. We do deserve better.

4. Taxes

Baz also tells us that his family are against the idea of taxation, which the Mage has introduced largely to benefit people who aren’t like Baz.

‘Taxes to cover all the Mage’s initiatives; most notably to pay for every faun bastard and centaur cousin, and every pathetic excuse for a magician in the Realm to attend Watford. The World of Mages never had taxes before. Taxes were for Normals, we had standards instead.’

I’m writing this post in November 2019, about a week after the Labour manifesto has dropped. It has this to say about taxes:

Universal public services, collectively provided through general taxation and free at the point of use for all, are how we guarantee the right to a good life. Public services do more than make sure everyone has the basics. They create shared experiences and strengthen social bonds. They make our lives richer and more fulfilling. A decade of Tory cuts has pushed our public services to breaking point. Labour offers real change – we will make Britain’s public services the best and most extensive in the world. We will pay for this by creating a fairer taxation system, asking for a little more from those with the broadest shoulders, and making sure that everyone pays what they owe. We will reverse some of the Tories’ cuts to corporation tax while keeping rates lower than in 2010. We’ll ask those who earn more than £80,000 a year to pay a little more income tax, while freezing National Insurance and income tax rates for everyone else. We will end the unfairness that sees income from wealth taxed at lower rates than income from work. VAT is a regressive tax that hits the poorest hardest and we guarantee no increases in VAT.

The Conservatives have launched a rival site called https://www.labourmanifesto.co.uk/ It has this to say about taxes:

“Hardworking taxpayers would have to pay an extra £2,400 each year in tax on average to cover Jeremy Corbyn’s reckless spending.”

The language of the Conservative party is about how higher taxes will negatively affect you the voter, rather than benefit the whole country. It’s also about tradition and how brilliant it is.

We Will Put You First Getting Brexit done. Investing in our public services and infrastructure. Supporting workers and families. Strengthening the Union. Unleashing Britain’s potential. The future is there for us to grasp. Not a future in which we endlessly refight the battles of Brexit and the Scottish independence referendum, or in which Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell – propped up by Nicola Sturgeon – lead a Government which rejects everything that has made the UK great.

I’m not saying traditions aren’t important (unless they’re bad traditions – like imperialism, which made the UK great, for sure), but they’re definitely less important than helping large groups of people through public service. Also Brexit sucks and is incredibly bad for the economy the Tories claim is so important to them.

If you aren’t from the UK (as I’d assume most readers aren’t), it may not be so cripplingly obvious that Baz’s family are rich therefore Conservative. But they’re also conservative – and therefore Conservative.

“a Tory vampire” – Baz’s own politics

Baz is a version of Draco Malfoy, who calls Hermione a ‘Mudblood’ and supports Umbridge and then Voldemort, although he later regrets it.

I haven’t really read any Harry/Draco (I was in Wolfstar), but I’m guessing that a lot of the fic builds on the fact that Draco cries in a bathroom, is unable to go through with murdering Dumbledore and Harry, and that his family ultimately decide to leave the Final Battle rather than support Voldemort. I’d guess that we argue that he was young and stupid, didn’t understand the full impact of what he was doing until it was too late, and then had to stay with the Death Eaters because he was afraid for his life and the lives of his family.

Baz, I am arguing, comes from a similar upbringing and has similar beliefs, even if he never got to the murdering Mudbloods stage. (He’s given an out in a way by never being in power when we see him.)

I’d also argue – because I really like Baz and I don’t want him to be ‘racist and speciest’ – that his actions and beliefs are, like Draco’s, massively affected by situational factors outside of his control. And that he, too, was young and stupid. I find it almost impossible that he could arrive at Watford with any other ideology – and I say this as an ex-Remus/Sirius shipper, who clearly found it totally reasonable that Sirius would hate his family and side immediately with a bunch of do-gooding Gryffindors.

The key there, though, is that Sirius hates his family; whereas Baz and Draco love their families and are (see above) incredibly loyal to them. One of the reason it’s easy for me to sit here and say ‘voting Conservative isn’t a thing I would ever do’ is that my family are hardcore ‘Not Conservative’ voters. If I ultimately decided I didn’t agree with them, I could do that, but I started out thinking they were probably right. This is the case with Baz and Draco – they have further to go than someone like Penny who was raised by Mitali and still tells Shepard that imagining being a Normal is like imagining being a frog.

I think Baz is a more sympathetic character than Draco Malfoy by a long way, but Draco has a strong justification for being more evil in that Voldemort will literally murder him if he doesn’t perform hateful actions. Baz merely worries that the Mage will “drive his whole family out of magic” if he doesn’t fight Simon, which is a bit of a weak argument when you think about it.

What has the Mage actually done? He’s forced the Old Families off the Coven – of course he did. They would have voted against his reforms. He’s raided their houses for dark objects that they do actually have. He doesn’t let them meet in large groups – which is an edict that they’re clearly ignoring given that the Club (so Tory) exists and also that the Old Families do actually have a Consortium that meets to try and work out how to seize power through potentially illegal means. 

Are these actions designed to win the love of the Old Families? Of course not. Could there have been better, less repressive strategies? Yes, absolutely.

But how empty are Baz’s coffers really? They still have at least two massive houses that we know about. They’re not exactly on the streets.

All that aside though, Baz does have a very good reason for acting the way he does, much better than Malfoy. His entire life that has been warped around his mother’s death.

The fact that she’s dead, and that she died in (arguably) heroic circumstances, makes it very difficult for Baz to think of her as anything other than completely perfect and right about everything. Even when he thinks about how she’d probably kill him for being a vampire, even though he knows that he’s never hurt anyone and therefore does not deserve to die, even then he still thinks that she must be right and that he is a monster who deserves to die. Fiona has exactly the same reaction.

Because he thinks his mother was perfect and because everyone around him tells him what a good headmistress she was (and because the Mage is presumably very bad at this part of his job), he also has to regret the fact that she isn’t in charge of the school anymore. Education is important to him.

And the timing of Natasha’s death is also specifically and strongly linked to the loss of power, and the two are inextricably bound together. If Baz is to love and honour his mother, to regret her loss, he must also regret the loss of the things that she stood for.

Now the Mage isn’t in power anymore, and Baz’s mother is at peace, he probably can start to think differently about the way the society is structured.

I believe that ‘Wayward Son’ – in which I don’t think Baz thinks a single racist thing, and instead queries the idea of going to America given the ‘current political climate’ – shows that he’s already starting to consider his view on the world differently.

Part of this is because of who he is personally. He’s gay – and of course he’s a vampire, both of which wouldn’t normally be acceptable to his family. (Although you can be gay and a powerful Conservative, of course. It’s much less unacceptable than being poor.) (Incidentally, I know you didn’t ask, but I don’t think the Mage would care if Simon was gay. He’s a liberal. He’d want to be OK with it, even if he wasn’t. But he’d care that Simon was dating a Tory and would definitely try and forbid it.)

Baz has more reason than any other Pitch to reassess his family’s politics, because they negatively affect him personally.

The trick will be to see if he can look outwards from himself, and care about things that don’t help him at all. Which I think he can.  

“He’s still more good than bad, I think” – the Mage and his poor decisions

OK, here we go. The most controversial part.

So, the Mage is the villain and is also a bad guy who left Simon in a home, tortured Baz, killed people, and incited hate against vampires. As I said right at the beginning, I’m not going to argue that you should forgive or even like him because ultimately I can’t if eighth year plays out as it does in canon.

But Lucy tells us that we shouldn’t take him as a straight-forward villain and if we’re willing to give the Pitches the benefit of the doubt over some things, I think we should at least give it a try for the Mage.

Here’s what I’ve got.

1. The political situation at the start of ‘Carry On’

In a story where the Mage was the hero, the book would have finished where he got into power. We’ve defeated the evil oppressive empire and now it’s a chance for reforms, hurrah! Everything will probably be good.

What we actually find at the beginning of Simon’s eighth year is that the Mage has been fighting the Old Families solidly for the last twelve years. They’ve resisted absolutely everything he’s tried to do, and far from being powerless now they’re not in charge, they’re actively and effectively using extreme wealth to obstruct the process of normal government:

“Half of Wales has stopped tithing. The Pitches are paying three members of the Coven to stay away from meetings, so we don’t have quorum. And there have been skirmishes up and down the road to London all summer long.” “Skirmishes?” “Traps, tussles. Tests – they’re all tests, Simon. You know the Old Families would seize the reins if they thought for a moment I was distracted. They’d roll back everything we’ve accomplished.” “Do they think they can fight the Humdrum without us?” “I think they’re so shortsighted,” he says, looking over at me “that they don’t care.”

Now, obviously, this is the Mage’s viewpoint on what is happening and so can’t be trusted in terms of the Old Families motivations. We also can’t ask them because we only hear from Baz (and once, briefly, from Fiona) who has his own view of the world which is coloured massively by his relationship with Simon and his mother.

Shockingly Simon again said it best: “That’s the problem with all the Pitches and their allies – it’s impossible to tell when they’re up to something and when they’re just being people.”

I sort of expect that the Mage is right, though, based on everything I know and feel about the Old Families. The Humdrum hasn’t directly affected them – or it doesn’t until the hole in Hampshire – meanwhile the Mage “will drive them out of magic.” (Will he though? Or will taxing people who earn over £80k a year not actually affect their lifestyle all that much?) 

To be fair, I think the Mage probably thinks that the Old Families are the greater threat as well - they were the threat that he summoned the Greatest Mage to fight – although it’s the threat of the Humdrum that drives him to try and take Ebb’s magic.

I’m not saying that if they cooperated the Mage would have been able to work out what to do about the Humdrum, but their refusal to acknowledge that fighting the threat is important is probably infuriating.

2. He’s alone, overworked, and doesn’t trust anyone

The Mage has the two most important jobs in the World of Mages. It’s strongly implied that these were held by separate people before he took them both. And the reason he took them both is that I doubt he thought anyone else could be trusted, because until he became a political figure, only one person had ever treated him as anything other than a complete lunatic. After that, he gets people like Premal and the Mage’s Men (and Simon and Lucy) who obsessively and unquestioningly follow him, which also can’t be good for him.

He probably wasn’t very old when he worked out how to summon the Greatest Mage, probably 22-23. He doesn’t go to university and took power before he was 30, well before most Normal politicians. (Natasha, obviously, also wasn’t very old, so take that as you will.)

He’s doing two incredibly difficult jobs at a time when there’s a world-level threat (that admittedly he caused, but by accident) as well as a constant political threat. Of course he’s shit at both of them. Of course he didn’t think he could take care of a child on his own while this was happening.

He doesn’t have Dumbledore’s excuse of ‘Old Magic’ keeping Simon safe during the holidays, but I think he probably thinks it’s for the best and doesn’t see many other options when he’s so time-poor himself.

He doesn’t have any friends and never has done, because he’s never valued the personal over the global. He doesn’t have time for friends and family; finds it impossible to forgive the lightest of slights, like Mitali valuing tradition as well as wanting change; and even if he did have time for friends and found someone to be friends with, he wouldn’t be willing to spend time enjoying himself while what he perceived to be injustice was going on. People have headcanon-ed Simon as autistic before; if he is, it’s not impossible he got it from his father.

By the time we see him in ‘Carry On’, I assume the Mage is exhausted and angry and making the worst decisions of his life in an attempt to try and stop the Humdrum from destroying the world.

That doesn’t justify any of them, but I think it puts them into perspective. And for me – it means he is redeemable in an AU if you avert Baz’s kidnapping, which is unforgiveable even if you assume he didn’t know how the numpties would treat him.  

It doesn’t mean he will have been a better father to Simon, though. Simon will still have had to have grown up scared and hungry and alone, for the greater good.

So it depends what you think makes a villain.

The end:

This essay was a lot longer than I thought it was going to be. It took me some time to write, and presumably longer for you to read than you might have expected, so thank you for getting to this point.  

I think that’s probably all I have to say right now. Please read ‘The Mage’s Heir’ and ‘Keep Calm’, if you found this interesting. I’m also turning over a thing in my head where Natasha is still alive, which will almost certainly be a lot gentler than this, because I barely talk here about the good things about Natasha and the Pitches of which there are many. But which will show a lot of the above playing out – like Penny’s roommate just won’t be Trixie anymore.

I hope ‘Any Way the Wind Blows’ has something to say about politics that isn’t just tied to the Mage!

I think it’ll be easier to tell what’s really going on without him being there.

And please, if you live in the UK - even if you want to vote Conservative - register to vote before the 26th of November. 

But also - consider not voting Conservative. 

[thewalkingfanfictions]

Decimal 70.4 The Fawn (Spencer Reid)

Imagine Spencer finding you curled up on the floor between bookshelves at his local library.

Decimal 70.4 The Fawn -- Spencer Reid x genderqueer!reader

Description: Spencer just wanted to grab a few books from his local library on the way home, instead he found a fawn sitting in his favorite spot, reading his favorite books.

Warning: absolutely nothing, its all fluff

Genre: Fluffy fluff with a cute uncomfy boi

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Genderqueer!oc/reader

A/N: not my gif, credit to the creator. This shot was made specifically for an oc, guys, so sorry if you'd rather read an x reader. All of the dewey decimal series is gonna be with an oc, unless I lose inspiration. You'll see the others soon enough.

and awaaaaay we go

Words without A/N: 2031

Masterlist

<—————————————>

He knew he needed sleep, that was obvious. After a week of stress, hunting down a mentally ill redneck with anger issues and one hand, and very little sleep, he knew he should be home, sprawled across his bed with a half-read book on his chest. However, on his way home from finally hitting the ground at the airport, he realized his dire need to find some new books to devour.

However impressive his bookshel(ves)f might be, you could still bet that he'd read every single book twice, thrice, and then some. So, here he was, walking through the front doors of the public library that he frequented. He visited this one so regularly that the Librarian could probably write an biography on him.

Waving at said librarian, (her name is Grahilda, she's a sweetheart) and sharing a few hello's and how are you's, he made his trek towards his very favorite part of the library, hidden under the decimal 70.4. He had memorized the paths so well that his feet took him towards the place he loved so dearly without him even having to command them too, and took him nearly all the way around the corner before he made them stop on a dime.

Mumbling. Soft, warm mumbling. Coming from his spot.

Quietly as he could manage, he leaned around the end of the bookshelf that he hid behind, his bobbly hair bouncing with his head as he peeked. At first he was almost upset, for some of reason. He had no right to be. It wasn't really his spot, technically, but in his very core he felt an odd jealousy of someone sitting there. How dare they take his-but-not-really-his spot.

However, that feeling of unrealistic jealousy was quickly washed away as he layed eyes on the object of his problems.

Sat right in the middle of the floor, cross legged with a pencil in their mouth, was a very intriguing looking person. Though he couldn't quite figure out why they appeared so quizzical to him, he knew he unreasonably enjoyed it.

Brown hair tucked into a turquoise slouch beanie, big, purple and black rimmed glasses were pushed back up their face by a hand hidden in the sleeve of a purple sweater that had to be at least three sized too big. Legs crossed like kindergartners are told to do, with an absolutely monstrous book laid in their lap, one small hand gripping the cover like it might run away at any moment, one curled up by their mouth, pressing the fabric of their sweater against a mouth that mumbled the words that they read. Black skinny jeans leading down to mismatched high top converse (one a checkerboard of green and purple, one grey with sharpied-on red markings), he couldn't help but think that they were absolutely adorable. Around them was a ring of books, some stacked four high, a nest of literature completely encircled their small frame. They couldn't have been more interesting, he decided.

However, one small problem came to his mind as he watched the beanie-clad figure read aloud to themselves. They were sat right in front of the section of books that he needed to get too, and there was absolutely no way he would be able to ask them to move. The thought of just talking to them alone was enough to have his chest contract with anxiety.

Screw you, social anxiety.

He could deal with psychopaths and murderers and monsters all day long, but a cute little fawn sitting in his spot was too much for him? Wow.

Only then realizing how creepy it was for him to be staring at the poor soul like he was, he pulled himself back behind the edge of the shelf again, and ran a soothing hand through his hair. Genuinely debating just leaving, he almost turned around right there and escaped. But, knowing he'd hate himself if he went home without the distraction of a good book, he chose to try and deal with it.

It's just one person, right? They wouldn't bite, c'mon, Reid!

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward around the shelf — only to immediately pull himself back again the second his eyes landed on their small body once more. A dramatic face palm, and a quick breath later, he actually did start to turn away like he initially planned, only to be stopped by the softest, warmest voice he'd swear he'd ever heard.

"Ya know, it's not generally nice to creep around corners like that. Especially not while a guy's busy reading."

However much the being caught made him blush, the sound of the humor in their voice was enough to bring him finally around the corner.

Blushing stupidly, he bashfully glanced at the person, a small, timid smile coming across his face as they grinned encouragingly at him.

"I, uh, sor- sorry, I, uh, I wasn't meaning to stare or, uhm, anything– its just that you're in, well not technically my, but, uh, see I like to thin- no, um, I-I-I-I mean, I uh... I'm just making this worse, I'm sorry, I'll just—" he tripped all over himself, blushing furiously and refusing to look up, only to be cut off by a cute, lilting laugh.

Unsure whether they were laughing at him or not, he quietly glanced up, expecting to see them making fun of him somehow. Instead, what he saw only furthered his flustered-ness. Their eyes were wrinkled up at the edges with their laughter, one small, sleeve covered hand coming up to cover their mouth, the other reached out towards him, its easy to say that he had no idea what to do.

"N-no, no, don't go, you're precious," the fawn giggled wholeheartedly, trying to wrangle down their laughter enough to form proper sentenced. Their compliment only served to make him flush even brighter, he resisted the urge to turn around and leave before his head exploded. Not, uh, literally, obviously.

"S-sorry," they finally calmed down enough to speak semi-normally. "Sorry, its just, your stutter is absolutely adorable, and lookit how flushed you are!" They promptly burst into another set of giggles, which only served to make him even more red.

Once they calmed down once again, there was an odd silence that hung in the air as Spencer took to staring at the ground, whilst the little fawn sitting in his place simply stared at him with a stupidly bright smile on their face.

"Heh," he cleared his throat lightly, unsure where where go next, "uhm, so, uh..." trailing off, he realized he didn't even really know what he was going to say in the first place, and he suddenly wished he had the power to just melt into a puddle and disappear beneath the bookshelves.

The unnamed giggler giggled softly once again, before speaking.

"I'm guessing you're here 'cause you want something in this section?" they assumed, scooting over a bit to make room inside of their nest of books, "well come on over then, lanky."

Smiling encouragingly, they patted the seat beside them, staring up at Spencer. Almost wanting to say no, he finally looked up at them enough to make eye contact, only to immediately agree and have his body start moving towards them without his command. Something about the innocent way they looked at him, the soft smile on their face as their startlingly blue eyes stared into his... He was stepping over the ring of books and sitting awkwardly beside them before he could really figure out what happened.

Oddly enough, though Spencer usually despised holding eye contact with a person for more than a socially necessary amount of time, ("the eyes are the windows to the soul, you know," his mother would always say) he found himself nearly unable to break the contact with their eyes, there was something in them that just mesmerized him. Be it the amused wisdom that hid behind them, or the odd, central heterochromia that shown bright in their stunning iris's, he did not know, and at that very moment, he decided that it didn't really matter, he just liked them in general.

A godawful wheeze came out of Spencer at the thought, and he immediately flushed dramatically again, quickly turning his head away. Stewing in uncomfortable silence again for a moment, they fawn decided to speak up, trying to break the odd spell that had come over the both of them.

"So, Mr. Legs, what's your genre?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer really didn't know where all of the time had gone. One moment, it had been five in the afternoon, and he had been coming into the library to pick up a few (ten) books and leave, and the next it was nearly ten o' clock at night, (Grahilda, upon seeing her two favorite customers both finally looking genuinely happy for a change, had taken pity on the two and had stayed open a few hours later than usual just to let them keep talking, bless her soul) and he was still carrying on the most interesting conversation with the person he had only just met that afternoon.

They had swapped stories, and talked about the things that they enjoyed, and ranted about work (and school, it turned out the fawn was a literary major with a thing for fantasy) and everything in between. He had learned that their name was Milo, and that they were genderqueer and living on their own now, that they had a huge love for anything alien related, and had had a very not-so-nice relationship with their parents before the move. They had learned about his mothers disabilities, about his occasional struggles with work and the escape that he found in reading. For a guy who very rarely spoke all of his thoughts, he found that he had spoken more tonight than he thought he had in weeks, and all simply because of his new comrades smile. He wagered it could melt even the baddest of baddies into blubbering blobs of "awes" and "cutes".

Now, a few hours later, (eleven thirty-seven, to be precise) the two were still amiably chatting away, walking down the road with a pile of books in both of their arms.

"—and that is why I strongly believe that it is a soup, and people are just too stubborn to want to see it!"

For the last several minutes, the fawn had been going on some tangent about how they strongly believed that cereal was, in fact, a soup.

"See, I would agree with you on all of those points, except, what about the mindset? You couldn't possibly eat cereal when in a soup mood, and you would absolutely *never* eat soup whilst in a cereal mood. So, how can they possibly be the same thing if they bring such different emotional responses?" Spencer stubbornly argued.

For nearly an hour more they argued and talked and discussed and gossiped, and, to both's surprise, by the time the midnight bell had begun its ringing, neither of them really wanted to separate. Both doctor and student felt a sad ting as they neared the doors of Milo's apartment building. Standing outside a moment, the two looked for the stars in a sky filled with light, before sadly glancing down. Setting both piles of books down to rest their arms, the duo both found themselves shaking the tired muscle out lightly.

Turning towards each other once again, neither really knowing what to say now that their little adventure had come to its end, they simply stared into the inky blue vastness of each others eyes. For a good few moments they did nothing but stare, before Spencer's eyes flickered down a touch. Knowing he was staring at their lips, the fawn couldn't help but wetten them, unsure what to do next.

They had only just met that evening, though stranger things have happened to newly-met people. Nonetheless, the two took a tentative step forwards at the same time, glancing into each others eyes for a moment more, Spencer finally broke the tension.

"Can, uhm... can I kiss you?" So shy, so timid, how could they not say yes

[writteninsunshine]

Walking At Night Alone - Roche/Cloud Strife - SFW

Title: Walking At Night Alone Author: Donnie Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Remake Setting: Sector Seven Slums, Cloud’s Apartment Pairing: Roche/Cloud Strife Characters: Roche, Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Marco, Tifa Lockheart, Marle’s Dog, Biggs, Sephiroth Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort Rating: T Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2733 Type of Work: One-Shot Status: Complete Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Past Zack Fair/Cloud Strife, PTSD, Hallucinations, Insomnia, Sweetness, Roche is full of nicknames, Fluff, Cats still hate Cloud Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Summary: Roche finds Cloud when he really needs it. AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: discord.gg/FyaWw25 I’m part of team Cloud Needs Some Sleep 2020, and so is Roche. At any rate, I hope you guys like this! I’m hoping that it being so long will be better than the last one, so that there’s more content for you guys! I do plan on working on some more for these two, but Sephiroth/Genesis is next up on who I’m gonna write. xD I hope you guys are looking forward to that, too! Just a warning, this only received one edit, I didn’t have anyone to look over it the last time that I usually do, so it might have a couple of issues. Let me know if it does and I’ll fix it!

Final Fantasy VII Fic Masterlist Walking At Night Alone ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Another cat hissed, swiped for his foot and bolted down the path to the pipe that lead to the park, and Cloud had only just barely left his apartment. Marle's dog stood steadfast beside her door, panting softly and relishing in the slight breeze breathing life into its fur. The wind rustled Cloud's hair, and he sighed softly, just shy of content as he glanced towards the office.

It was late enough that Chadley and Wymer were both gone, likely bedded down for the night, but there was nary a night where Cloud could get a full nights' rest. Letting his guard down for just a second could prove disastrous; Sephiroth haunted him in waking and dreaming hours alike. Marco had been making a whole host of strange noises again, and to avoid another incident where he might hurt someone, he’d deigned it a better idea to walk the slums. Nighttime didn’t mean much, even in Sector 7 it seemed because there were still people gathered around shopfronts, talking in the streets. Cloud didn’t know the time, but from the relative darkness, he supposed it was late enough that he should have been sleeping. He bet if he swung by Biggs’ place, the man would be asleep instead of sprucing up the dirt in front of his door. Even Tifa was probably long out, dreaming of a better day. Pausing in front of the bar, he stared up at the wooden sign, scrutinizing it for something that wasn’t going to be there, even if he stared for hours. Things like memories never appeared when you could actually handle them, in his experience. Though, sometimes, they did rush back when he needed them. For a second, he could have sworn he heard a chuckle behind him, a very specific tone followed by boots crushing the dirt beneath their feet. When he turned, however, he let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. What had he been thinking? Zack was just as gone from him as Sephiroth was. There was no way he’d come around as often, either. Good memories tended to stay in the past, even if he still had nightmares about that rainy day, screaming at nothing while wearing Zack’s blood on his face. Shaking his head almost violently, Cloud balled his fists to give himself something else to focus on, turning away and starting for the station. It was better than walking circles this early into his evening, he supposed. The brisk night air, the abundant lack of people, it all melted into the background, even as he appreciated it silently. His arms felt chilly, maybe even numb, and the fact that he could just be there and feel that made his night that much more impressive; He hadn’t lost all of his senses quite yet. Waiting around at the station landing for twenty minutes hadn’t been part of the plan. Trains hadn’t been running for the last day or so, and even the hopefuls that still thought their husbands, sisters, fathers, mothers, whatever would come back had all but left. Maybe it was the hour, or maybe it was too much to hope for. What did he even expect to happen? Someone would come to talk to him that shouldn’t have been there? Shaking his head again, Cloud crossed his arms and pushed off of the wall, frowning heavily as he stomped back towards the road leading to the main portion of the slums. Maybe a solid night in Scrap Boulevard would do him some good. He might be tired in the morning, whenever it came, but it would be better than just waiting for something that wouldn’t, or even couldn’t come. It wasn’t until he had passed the factory that he heard what could only be called determined footsteps behind him. Itchy fingers tensed against his own biceps and Cloud hugged himself tighter. If anyone had followed him, they were probably in just as much of a bad spot as he was. Tifa had warned him that he needed to ask questions first, after what had happened with Marco. Someone innocent didn’t need to die because he wasn’t in his head when he attacked them. But the stubborn footsteps followed him past the bar, up the way he usually took towards the school. Another cat yowled somewhere to his right, bolting and clambering into a seemingly innocuous pile of scrap and buckets. The crashing had Cloud on high alert, and his hand bolted to the comfort found in the grip of his sword. Closing around the familiar haft, he turned enough to see who had been following him so doggedly. What he found surprised him more than anything else he could have seen in that dark alley. Standing in the dim light was none other than Roche, that pesky Third Class SOLDIER from the other night. He kicked a bucket away from his feet, firmly placed them in the dirt and gave a wink and the kind of blinding smile that would have made the sun lamps jealous, then waved. Altogether, Cloud could see the man was trying but was he really ready to deal with this? He hadn’t slept in what felt like lifetimes. “Roche, right?” Cloud asked, narrowing an unhappy, almost accusatory glare on the blond swordsman. “Oh, Sunshine, you remembered~!” Somewhere in the excited tone of his voice, Cloud could see that the other was trying his best to keep his voice down. The time and Cloud’s desire not to get caught like this was probably the biggest reason for that. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to find you, and then guess who I saw hanging around the train station?” “You shouldn’t be here.” Cloud’s voice was a hiss, not unlike the cats that fled from him, and his arms crossed once more. Roche would give him a fair fight, at the very least, he knew that much; it was the only reason he felt safe without his hand on his sword. If he was here for another dance, they certainly weren’t about to do it in a cramped slum alleyway. Even if Roche didn’t care about the casualties, Cloud sure did. Innocent people didn’t deserve to die because Roche was an excitable puppy. The word crossing Cloud’s mind made his lips twitch in a frown and his gaze drifted slightly to the side of Roche’s head. “Well, it’s common practice that I tend to end up in places I shouldn’t be.” Roche offered a kind smile, stepping a little closer and holding out his hand. “I was thinking, maybe, it was time for another dance. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. It’s been a long time since someone got my blood pumping the same way that you do, Sunshine.” “Shouldn’t you still be topside?” Cloud shifted his weight to his right foot, leaning away with a huff as a show of annoyance. “But you aren’t topside, now, are you, Kitty-Cat?” Taking a couple of lazy steps forward, Roche bent just slightly at the waist to meet those downturned eyes, and his hands took the other’s cheeks in the soft leather of his gloves. “Had to come to find you… You’re intoxicating.” Surprising himself, Cloud did nothing to shake free of the other’s hands, and he pursed his lips slightly, frowning instead seconds later. There was a certain familiarity in the way that Roche invited himself into his life, into his personal space, and he found it oddly comforting to lean into those hands. “If you’re going to be down here, you’re going to have to--” “I already hid my bike, don’t worry.” Roche grinned, perking considerably as he pulled Cloud into a hug. The sudden grip around him had him stiff, jaw clenched and hands held tight at his sides. What was this even supposed to be? “It feels good to have you close, Sunshine.” He whispered against Cloud’s ear, and he gulped slightly. “Can we go somewhere to be alone?” Still stiff but maybe less so, Cloud sighed, feeling just how fatigued he was when Roche had to put more effort into holding him up. Cloud was half tempted to tell him the bar, but instead, he found himself lifted with a stunted shout on his lips. In a quick set of motions, he pulled the sword off his back and held it out in front of them, though he turned a deadly, narrowed-eyed glare on the other. “I got you, Sunshine.” How had Cloud not asked him to stop calling him that by now? “Where’re you staying? You look like you need a three-day nap.” “I-- It’s-- I’m o--” Cloud’s stilted hesitation was silenced with a skeptical look and he sighed, thunking his head into the other’s armored shoulder. “If you follow this alley all the way to the end, it’ll let out near the apartments I’m staying at.” “Okay, Kitty-Cat, be there in a blink.” At least, that had been the plan, until Cloud’s grunt of surprise at the start of his mad sprint had Roche bouncing in place, suddenly anxious. “Uh-- No running?” He asked, bashful, and Cloud nodded, his glare lightening just slightly. “You’re going to drop me or we’ll hit a wall. Take it slow or put me down.” While Cloud’s voice wasn’t a threat, it almost sounded like one. Take it slow, which forfeited his favorite force in the world, speed… Or put Cloud down? The only acceptable amount of time apart right now seemed to be none, so Roche slumped for a second, sighing and collecting his pride from the floor, before readjusting Cloud in his arms and walking like a normal person. Feeling at least a little bit safer in the other’s arms, Cloud relaxed enough to give the illusion of being too tired to fight him, closing his eyes and letting the cool night air wash over him as he was jostled in the younger’s hold. “You sure we can’t just, uh, go a little bit faster?” Roche finally asked as they passed by the schoolyard, and Cloud snorted slightly, rolling his eyes. “Taking it slow for once isn’t going to kill you. If everyone went as fast as you do, we’d never see the small stuff.” “Small stuff?” The thought of missing things had never occurred to Roche, and he looked down with those wide eyes to try and catch the look on Cloud’s face. Cloud looked away, eyes on the dirt in front of them, though they were unfocused. Had he just run through that mission with Zack, there would have been so many things that they both would have missed, and it would have been such a shame. “Like…” Finally turning back to look at him, his eyes locked on Roche’s and he sighed, “Your eyes. If I didn’t take the time to look…” Cloud sucked in a deep breath, “They’re… Really teal. And not too bright, yet.” Roche blinked a couple of times in rapid succession before focusing a bit more on Cloud’s eyes. Now, those were the eyes of a SOLDIER. “Is that bad?” “No.” Cloud shook his head, “His eyes weren’t like mine, either.” “His?” Shit. Of course he’d mess himself up by saying something about Zack too soon. “Just… Someone I used to…” Trailing off, Cloud sighed a little. “It’s not important.” “He sounds important.” Roche replied, ducking slightly around a corner to hide his face from Cloud’s eyes. “But you can tell me when you’re ready. If you’re ready at all.” Those eyes caught Cloud’s attention again when they peeked up, and the only thing that kept him from commenting was the sudden light above their heads. Cloud glanced over to the path they’d have to take to the apartment, pointing the way with the hand not holding his sword. “Over there. Once we get to the clearing with the apartments, mine’s the second one on the second floor.” “Gotcha.” Roche smiled sweetly, readjusting Cloud’s weight in his arms once more before taking the slight right that the blonde pointed him towards. “You need someone to stay the night? It could be fun.” “I have neighbors.” Cloud answered, maybe too quickly, “Thin walls. I can hear one of them coughing all the time…” “I didn’t say we had to do anything,” Roche replied, brows drawing in like curtains over his bright-- but not too bright --teal eyes, “I have every intention of making sure you actually sleep. Even if that means I have to sit outside and tell everyone off very quietly.” He was grinning again, winking theatrically, “Or if it means I have to hold you close and make sure that you sleep, I’ll do that, too. Sometimes having someone to watch your six while you sleep helps.” The way he said it sounded like Roche had experience with that need, and Cloud didn’t doubt it. That did make sense. Cloud had never had a lot of issues with insomnia before Zack’s death, but sleeping with someone around always did make him feel safer. But there was really no reason for him to be willing to be that vulnerable with this man; Roche was supposed to be the enemy, wasn’t he? But a fellow SOLDIER, he supposed, someone who had some inkling of what he was going through, it was something he couldn’t pass up. The safety in numbers with someone who might actually understand him struck him quiet. And he’s a goddamn puppy, too. Cloud couldn’t get the thought out of his head that Roche and Zack would have gotten along swimmingly. “Yeah… Maybe it will.” At this point, he was willing to try anything once if it meant he could actually rest. When was the last time he’d actually slept and not just drifted in and out of consciousness for three hours before getting up? Always exhausted and always exerting himself, that was his lot in life over the last few months. Even Roche could have been fooled by the time flying by when he was stopping in front of Cloud’s apartment not even a minute later. He let Cloud reach for the doorknob, and didn’t let him out of his arms until the door was closed behind them again and the bed was all he could fathom putting him on. While the blond looked up with a raised eyebrow, Roche grinned and shook his head, pulling all of his hair over his right shoulder. “You stay in bed, just a sec.” Setting both swords against what he assumed was a closet, he paused halfway back to the bed, where Cloud sat on his hip with one hand on the mattress. “You’re beautiful.” And Roche was breathless. “I-- Shut up.” Cloud’s delivery was swift and stilted, and he looked away with a pensive frown, biting the inside of his cheek. Roche was almost too much. When he found himself scooting into the wall to accommodate the other SOLDIER, he sighed softly, rolling onto his side to face it. Roche scooted in nice and close behind him, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. “Alright, Kitty-Cat. This is where I bid you goodnight. We can dance another night away.” Roche whispered, kissing Cloud’s ear absently as he nestled into his back, one leg up and over his hip to hold him in place. Despite himself, Cloud found that this was possibly the most comfort he had felt in this bed, and that left an odd taste in his mouth. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought, finding his mind growing dizzy, thoughts faint, and then fading to black. He slept until the sounds of children running and laughing outside jolted him awake and Roche simply shifted to give him a kiss on the cheek, holding him in place. “‘S okay, Sunshine.” He told him, “You can still get some shut-eye if you can.” Cloud surprised himself by nodding, eyelids sinking closed once more as he snuggled into the warmth the other man offered. He didn’t even need his thin, threadbare blanket with the other man wrapped around him like this. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: Welp, there we go! This one was definitely longer than the other one, and I hope you guys liked it! I know I had a lot of fun writing this, it was super sweet and I think Cloud deserves understanding and kindness. Roche is a little over-eager but he’s a good boy, I promise! I hope to see you in the next one! I’m also looking for another beta-reader, if anyone is interested! Please let me know, through reviews/comments/joining my Discord/asks or messages on Tumblr!

[razieltwelve]

Collectibles #1 (Worm/Final Rose)

Taylor trudged home from another awful day of school and all but slumped onto the couch. She had only intended to rest there for a moment before going up to her room, but her exhaustion had other ideas. She dozed off, only waking when someone rang the doorbell.

Stumbling to her feet, she opened the door just in time to see the delivery van pull away from the kerb. There was a nondescript package sitting on the doorstep.

“A package?” She picked it up. “Did dad order something?” She blinked. Her name was on it. “Huh… I don’t think I’ve ordered anything.”

After the day she’d had though, she’d welcome any distraction. She’d thought they’d leave her alone after the locker, but they’d kept right on going although they’d been careful not to try anything else quite so dangerous. They were probably just waiting for things to calm down before they escalated again.

Taylor opened the package, and several brightly coloured packets fell out. She picked them up.

“Remnant: Age of Heroes… a collectible card game for awesome people?” Taylor chuckled. “Really? What kind of company advertises their game by saying it’s for awesome people.” 

Still, the artwork on the front of the packs was impressive. One of the packs featured a beautiful pink-haired woman clothed in crystalline armour whilst another featured a silver-eyed teenager with a scythe. However, her favourite was the pack with a dark-haired little girl eyeing a hamburger like it was the greatest thing in the universe.

“Well, I might as well open them. I mean… it was addressed to me, right?” Gingerly, Taylor opened the first pack.

And her life would never be the same again.

X     X     X

“Behold my awesomeness!”

Taylor jerked back as the same little girl on the front of the pack appeared in the middle of her living room. The girl took a moment to test the strength of the coffee table before leaping onto it and striking what was likely supposed to be an epic pose.

“Now… who has summoned me?” The girl grinned. “And where can I get some food?”

“Uh…” Taylor blinked. “Um…”

“Hey, you!” The girl pointed one finger at her. “Are you my summoner?”

“Um… maybe?” Taylor had heard that powers could be really weird. Was someone messing with her using their powers. Or… or was this her power? After all, the locker was exactly the sort of event that might cause someone to trigger, and it sometimes took a while for powers to emerge and…

“Huh.” The girl hopped off the coffee table and looked up at Taylor. She was, Taylor realised, very short and kind of scruffy looking. “Yes… you’re definitely my summoner.”

“Oh.” Taylor blinked. “So… you’re like a projection or something?” This was surreal. Maybe she was still on the couch sleeping. This was probably all a dream.

“Kind of.” The girl rubbed her chin and then picked up the pack of cards that Taylor had dropped. “Since I’m the first three-star card you opened, I’ll be your guide on your wonderful journey through Remnant: Age of Heroes.”

“…”

“To make things nice and simple, you can summon people and stuff based on the cards you open. Do certain things and accomplish certain objectives and you’ll unlock more cards and get more packs. Depending on what cards you get, you can do all sorts of stuff.”

“All sorts of stuff?” Taylor’s eyes widened. “You mean… like a trump?”

“Yeah, we’ll go with that.” The girl chuckled. “Now, come on, let’s sit down and go through the cards. I’ll explain how this whole things works since I really don’t want you getting stabbed or something because that would be the end of me too.”

They sat down on the couch, and the girl carefully put each of the fifteen cards in the pack on the table.

“So… basically, cards fall into several classes: characters, locations, resources, abilities, events, equipment, and organisations.” The girl looked at Taylor, and she nodded. “Each of these classes fulfils a different objective. Characters are basically all people. See this one?” Taylor nodded again. “Atlas First Responders Squad. It’s a one star character card, so it’s not very strong, but it doesn’t take a lot of resources to summon and it doesn’t take any resources at all to keep around.”

“Um… what happens if I use it?” Taylor asked.

“You get a squad of Atlas First Responders. They’re not the best or anything, but they’re basically there to buy you time to summon something bigger and scarier.” The girl rubbed her chin again. “Based on your world’s power system, they’re kind of like a squad of PRT, except they’ve got better weapons, training, and armour. Still, they’re basically cannon-fodder for any three-star like me.”

“…” Taylor had a hard time believing that the little girl in front of her could be that dangerous, but she’d just go with it for now.

“Now, resource cards are how you pay for everything. This one is a Lien card. It’s basically cash. Lots of other cards need Lien, and this is where you get it. Location cards are also important.” The girl pointed at one. “You got a pretty nice one. That’s a three-star.”

Taylor read out the name of the card. “Signal Academy?”

“Yeah. It’s a nice place. It’ll make resources so long as you’ve got it, and you need it if you want to summon certain characters. Yeah, you definitely got lucky. It’s not as good as getting Beacon, but Beacon is a five-star card, and those are super rare. Signal is a nice one to start with though.”

“What about the other card types?” Taylor asked.

“The others are pretty self-explanatory. Equipment is stuff you can use or give to other cards, events and abilities are kind of like the spells you’d see in a fantasy game, and organisations are groups that you can use to boost other cards or even locations and stuff.” The girl pointed to each of the cards in turn. “You got a pretty good pack. See? You’ve got a bunch of one-stars, but you got two three-stars. That one is me.”

Taylor picked up the card the girl had pointed to. “Diana Yun-Farron, Nine Years Old.” She looked at the girl. “So that’s you?”

“Yep.”

“And it’s really specific about your age.”

“Heh. If I was a little older, I’d totally be a five-star. Heck, you could argue I should be a four-star already. Either way, you got lucky. I’m one of the best three-star characters you can get.” Diana cackled evilly. “Look at my stats.”

Taylor did. Diana’s attack and defence were both higher than any of the other character cards in the pack. Moreover, the card mentioned a transformation that would boost them to what seemed like absolutely absurd numbers. “What… the…?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I’m awesome. Plus, fighting isn’t all I can do. Look at the abilities I’ve got.”

Taylor stared. “Incredible intellect, master schemer, always hungry, friend and foe to animals…” There were more, and as she read, the card’s text shifted, scrolling down as though it were a computer tablet not a card. “That is… a lot of stuff.”

“Yep. I’m just about the best three-star you could have gotten.” Diana grinned. “But, hey, how about we try a few things.” She pointed at a card. “Picture that one in your mind and picture holding it.”

Taylor nodded. The card was Atlas Mk-3 Laser Rifle. A moment later, the space beside her shimmered. The rifle was right there. “…” She looked at Diana. “Did I just summon a laser rifle.”

“Yep.”

The implications of this filled Taylor’s mind. If she could summon one card. Then what about the others…?

“What you summon depends on what resources you’ve got and stuff.” Diana pointed. “See the cost on the card? The rifle doesn’t cost a lot to summon because it’s only a one-star. The resources you’ve got in this pack and the ones you get from owning Signal mean you could summon that heaps of times. But the bigger stuff is tougher. You’ll only be able to summon it once a day until you get more resources.”

“So what about the other packs?” Taylor asked. “I can open those, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Let’s do that.”

X     X     X

After opening all of the other packs, Taylor’s mind was filled with a strange sort of pressure. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was oddly heavy. Diana explained that she could make the cards disappear and reappear at will, and she would always know what cards she had and which ones she was using. It was handy - and a lot safer than running around with cards she could lose - but it was still weird.

“Oh, and there’s one last thing I should mention,” Diana said. “See those symbols next to my name?” Taylor nodded. “That means you can use me as a conduit.”

“A conduit?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah. It means you can’t summon me while I’m a conduit, but instead, you kind of get to use some of my powers for a while with me as your advisor.”

“…” Taylor stared. “You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?”

“Well, I thought I’d explain how everything else worked first. Besides,” Diana said quietly. “Not all of the others will be as friendly as me. Sure, most of them are nice, but you don’t want some of the others in your head. They can be kind of mean. Plus, since you haven’t opened enough packs and stuff yet, you can’t use me as a conduit very often or for very long, and I wouldn’t even try it on a four-star or a five-star. It would probably melt your brain.”

“Can we try using you as a conduit?” Taylor asked.

“Sure.”

A moment later, Diana vanished in a swirl of light. Instead, Taylor now felt a presence in her mind. It was warm and happy, and it was unmistakably the little girl.

See? Now, since you’re using me as a conduit, you can do stuff you wouldn’t normally be able to. Diana cackled. Want to see something cool? See the brick you guys have been using as a door stop over there? Pick it up and punch it.

Still a bit sceptical, Taylor did as she told. The brick was reduced to fine powder. “That is…”

Awesome, right? As long as you’ve got me set up as your conduit, you’ll be super strong, super fast, super durable, and you’ll heal from just about anything super fast. Oh… but you will need to eat heaps of food, and you might transform into a rage monster. On the upside, you’ll also be super smart.

“Super smart…” Taylor trailed of as she looked at the television and immediately thought of twenty ways to make it better. “This is crazy.” She grinned. “But the good kind of crazy.”

So… what are you going to do now?

“I think I’m going to be a hero.” Taylor nodded firmly to herself. “But can we go through how this whole things works again? I want to make sure I completely understand everything.”

While we’re doing that, you might want to summon the other three-star character you opened. I know it’ll take up most of the resources you’ve gotten, but it’ll be worth it.

“Okay.” Taylor concentrated, the cards in her mind shifting as she activated the resources and locations she’d gotten to summon the character Diana had mentioned. “Here we go.”

A red-haired teenager with fox ears appeared.

That’s my Aunt Vanille when she was younger. Diana smirked. If you’re going to be a hero, you’re going to need equipment and stuff. Between the two of us, we can build just about anything even if we’re only the three-star versions of ourselves.

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Yes, Taylor has a card game for a power. A card that summons stuff and people from Final Rose. Heh.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

You can find my original fiction on Amazon here.

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #161

Ah, the After-Suspension Party. Nearly everyone expected it was gonna happen to some degree. But just because it was predictable, that doesn’t mean it can’t be meaningful. Specifically, we see the core members of the Tomoko “harem” (I use the term half-jokingly because it’s just easier) progress in ways that you might not have expected them to, but it’s all-the-more welcome simply because of how hard our girls are trying to get their “best ending”. 

Chapter 161: Because I’m Not Popular, Things Will Go Back To Normal

Interesting choice to have Hirasawa and her BF on the splash page this time, considering they’re not in this chapter at all otherwise (though it’s not like Nico Tanigawa haven’t done it before). From the looks of thing, Hirasawa is gazing fondly at Ucchi’s compadres, yearning for the female friends she doesn’t have.

Could this be a preview for upcoming developments?

Your entire existence summed up.

There’s something oddly amusing about how Tomoko pointed out the dog while acknowledging Ucchi. Almost like she’s putting them on the same level.

Apology Progress: 21% 

For everyone’s else insistence that Tomopup is kind of weird, it’s absolutely fitting that Nemo thinks it’s cute. I could go all pseudo-psychological about how Nemo is projecting her feelings about Tomoko onto the dog, but...

...that would be stating the obvious, wouldn’t it?

Apology Progress: 30% 

“Stupid dog! You made her look bad!”

Notice how Tomoko has that extra shading on her when she pops the question? It makes the exchange feel ridiculously dramatic, and if that isn’t the mangaka toying with shippers, I don’t know what is.

Apology Progress: 90%

See? Now that wasn’t too hard, was it, Ucchi? The first step to improving oneself is admitting to your mistakes. You’re lucky that Tomoko doesn’t care that much about you to hold a grudge, but still, it took guts to humble yourself before your crush. Now you can put all that animosity behind you and move ahead to finally admitting your feel–

Apology Progress: -5%

Nah, just kidding. I knew it was going too smoothly. I’d be pissed if I wasn’t laughing too hard.

Oh, wow. Katou is actually giving Ucchi the “How would you like if they did that to you” lecture. As if her mom-level wasn’t already off the charts.

Props to the translator for finding a great alternative to use in place of “yabai”. It’s not the same word, but the reasoning still applies just as effectively as the original. 

Nice save, Ucchi.

NOT.

Apology Progress: -10%

Confession Progress (Part 2): 18%

...go on.

This close. We were this close to Ucchi finally admitting to Tomoko’s face that she finds her attractive. It’s taken a mountain of digging and prodding at Ucchi’s psyche, but her inner feelings have finally skirted the surface. Unfortunately, the plot demands that Ucchi’s progress has met its quota for the day. 

Hina Nemoto: Professional normie/otaku hybrid, aspiring voice actress, and now, expert wingwoman.

Hey, Nemo...

YOU WANT SOME ICE FOR THAT SICK BURN???

Oh, Katou. Your motherly tenderness transcends the species barrier.

Oh, Tomoko. I recommend you look up the word “projecting” when you get the chance. You may just learn something about yourself.

Oh, Ucchi. Your arsenal of kimoi-based puns knows no ends.

Oh, Yuri. Not so above it all after all. 

So Tomoko really did succumb to a bit of cabin fever, after all. I can only imagine how much Tomoko might’ve regressed if she had to do suspension on her own.

Is it weird that Tomoko and Nemo’s passive-aggressive banter makes me nostalgic? 

It’s been a while since we saw the two of them go at it like this. One key difference is that Nemo, in her growing admiration for the girl, is subtly complimenting Tomoko for how much she’s come out of her shell since the day they first met. 

Take some notes, Ucchi.

Even when she’s a disembodied fantasy head used for narrative purposes, Itou still lights up whenever she gets provoked. It’s amusing how each character has their own quirk like–wait a minute.

Itou Hikari. (hikari = light). Oh...duuuuuuuh. 

It took over two years, but what goes around has finally come around.

The fated first meeting between Tomoko and Nemoto may not have meant much for the former, but for the latter, it’s was the spark that made the otaku/normie into the girl she is today. From being the giver of fistbumps to becoming the receiver–it’s astounding how such a simple gesture can sum up their relationship like that. 

Hey now, Tomoko. You can’t exactly judge Nemo when you’re the one who introduced it to her. 

Take this with a grain of salt, but you ever get the feeling that Tomoko has memory problems? Forgetting Komi-something’s name, her brother’s school application, and now this? You could say it’s just her being a jerk and not retaining info she doesn’t care about, but maybe there’s something more to it.

(Nature documentary voice) “And here, we witness a wild Emoji Girl, commonly known as the “Ucchi”, assume the mating position as she targets her prey.”

You know what? I don’t even think Yuri is being that kuudere here. After their “date” at the recreation center. I’d say she gotten comfortable with not hogging Tomoko all for herself. Good on her, and good on Mako for looking out as always. 

“As you can see, the Emoji Girl will attempt to cozy up against the elusive Tomoko by ordering the same beverage as her.”  

That’s nothing new at this point, though it’s the first time Tomoko has been surrounded exclusively by the “popular” girls. (Yes, I know Yuri is right behind her, but still.)

I want to make some cheesy comment about how Tomoko and Yuri always have each other’s backs, but that would be...actually, screw it. They totally do.

I’m a sucker for shots like this where you can visually feel the “so near, yet so far” dynamic between two characters. Someone help me.

Rena, you ever think that being a repeat offender may have something to do with that? Or do you and Yoshida (not sure about Anna) have no concept of self-awareness?

Who’d of thought that Those Two Girls would someday be hanging out with Those Two Girls?

Actually, given the direction this manga has taken, it’s not that surprising. At first glance, it’s easy to think that Rena and Anna are a little too rowdy for the likes of Yuri and Mako. Thankfully, we have Yoshida acting as the “test run”, allowing Yuri and Mako to become accustomed to their delinquent atmosphere. Even if they don’t end up the best of friends (Rena, in particular, seems pretty high-maintenance), I don’t see any reason they couldn’t end up respecting each other. 

Now these two, on the other hand, were secretly my platonic rareOTP. Anna's the most approachable of the Delinquent Trio, and her easygoing nature feels like it could smooth out Yuri’s rougher edges. 

Yeah, I’m a sucker for Sweet Stoner x Wallflower pairings. 

–discovered what hentai is!”

First off, Yuri is too freakin’ cute nibbling at her fries like that. They seem to be going for the “big eater” trope for Yuri, and I like how it’s being played with. Improbably thin girls with big appetites are a dime a dozen in manga, but Yuri feels different because it's not that she necessarily loves food. It’s just that eating is her way of busying herself when she doesn’t want to deal with social situations. As any introvert will tell you, it’s a natural habit when you can’t muster up the nerve to speak up in a group. 

Yuri may fall behind the pack compared to the others, but what makes her special is that Tomoko will always look back for her.

Just, you know. Give her a week.

Smooth move, Tomoko! Calling Yuri by her first name in front of the others now? May as well have been a marriage proposal!

Nico Tanigawa are making it really hard for me to remove my (Friend)shipping Goggles when they include “long-lost lovers” dialogue like this. (Or maybe I’m the only one who sees it that way...)

Off-topic, but something about the perspective of this shot seems off. I think it’s the chairs’ different-sized legs.

This entire image just gave me Type 1 Diabetes.

There’s no grudge or snubbing that one might’ve expected from Yuri. Instead, Tomoko offered her a sincere–if not teasing–retort, and Yuri responded back in kind. The general hesitation that Yuri has when Tomoko’s being weirdly affectionate isn’t an issue anymore. But the sweetness dials up to eleven when you remember how Yuri flubbed the flirty joke Tomoko offered during the Mouseyland trip. Yuri’s learned how to banter with her, and best of all, she’s enjoying it. If that ain’t friendship goals, I don’t know what is.   

You know a friendship has potential when you’re buying extra fries for the table.

If there’s an edge that Yuri has over the others right now, it’s that she’s acquainted with Tomoko’s actual soulmate, Yuu Naruse.

This chapter’s title is really misleading, but not by how it’s normally done by this series. It states that “things will go back to normal”, and back in the early days, it was meant to be ironic. It would suggest that Tomoko would return to her unchanging loneliness, only for us to be hit with the amusing realization that things have changed now that she’s made friends.

But here, it’s a double subversion. That chapter title is now being played totally straight. Everything we’re seeing now–Yuri opening up and being less possessive, Nemo’s “tough love”, and Ucchi’s whirlwind efforts of befriending Tomoko? That is the normal now. Tomoko’s improving high school life is no longer a shift in the series’ premise. It is the series’ premise. 

To not be afraid of change without ignoring your roots is the true mark of what makes Watamote stand out as a coming-of-age story.

[quirkydeaky]

Life is Real {Chapter One}

ROGER TAYLOR 

how will Roger cope when he finds that his new best friend,  whom he's falling in love with, is slowly dying?

HI! So I’m back and hoping this series will not flop, lol. A few people have been interested in seeing this, so here I am with what people want! If you want, drop a comment or send me an ask and I’ll add you to my tag list. Mwah!

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Also... This story is a multi-part fan-fiction with heavy, mature themes. The Original (and Main) Female Character has a type of Cancer. The type will not be mentioned, but there may be some scenes with heavy implements of medication, treatment or heavily implied scenes at a hospital. 

I DO understand that this topic hits close to home for a lot of people, and if this angst-based series is not something for you, please ignore. Thank you.

[also, send me asks because I need mutuals and also need entertainment!]

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W/C: 2k+

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of personal struggle.

Main Characters: 80s!Roger Taylor, MammaMia2!Lily James (Lillian)

[the start will be a bit slow, but please hang in there! this will begin to swing into place in chapter two, fully being immersed in the plot once we hit chapter three! amazing! love you guys. show love, and enjoy.]

Don't you know... I'm still standing; better than I ever did." Lillian quietly sang, her mind foggy, hazy... cloudy with confusion at the thoughts cramming her brain. "Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid." Why were these thoughts circling in her mind? She was fine, that's what everyone thought. It's what it looked like... looking like she had the normal life, maybe some even classified her as privileged after coming out of Oxford University with a post-graduate degree in English and Creative Writing. One with creatives wonders and endless ideas, she was. Her apartment was a bare representation of her mind that was constantly running at the speed of light, a new idea popping up maybe every five minutes, but, the only real action taken in her apartment was the jingle of her keys as she placed them down on the bench of her kitchen, her shoes she chose to wear that day - their clunk hitting the wall as she slipped them off and walked the rest of her way towards her room where she would immediately strip herself of the day's clothes and swap for an oversized hooded jumper. The twenty-seven-year-old always had the audacity to write about her dream life, always adding to the one project she would constantly come back to, like she always has. It had been her side piece throughout university, her majors and lectures always taking priority, a negative fact of her life, as she always wanted to work on this specific piece. The one about her life, not her life in this reality, but the next. Almost a replication of her life if it could be done over again. Her life would be a buzz in this reality. She'd have a better childhood, not one where her father left at the age of eight after providing a solid year and a half of social and financial abuse, leaving herself and her mother with nothing. They grew from that, though. Her mother found better, and even though Lillian hated the guy at first, they grew to become mutual towards each other. Nothing more. She'd have a sibling or two in this life. She'd always wanted one, always wondered why all of her friends had one and she didn't, an only child. But with life moving quickly and a fast independence building for herself, those friends soon faded from her life when she finally found her dream career she was going to work hard to get anywhere near the end goal. A form of desperation, giving her one of the few things she wanted in this life, which would be the only reward she'd receive in this life, too. But the next, she'd be twenty seven, hopefully engaged. Maybe even be a little risky, perhaps, and have her own child be a part of her bridal party. Her son, a page boy? Her daughter, a flower girl? But this life, her real life, held something different. She was twenty seven, at home in her bare, white coloured walls of an apartment writing this supposed dream she wanted to live; this supposed... fantasy, she wanted to fill. But instead of filling this void with her next dream and fantasy, she was filling it by achieving her goal of becoming educated enough to write a book. So that's what she did. Working one, singular shift a week at the local grocer, this is what she lived off. The basics. That's all she needed. She'd had her own form of independence for a while, ever since she finished school, her mother now an obnoxious brat who had her new man, completely forgetting about her daughter that was still under her care at age seventeen, as that's when she completed that form of education before shipping herself straight off to university. Don't get her wrong, she was glad she got this early offer for Oxford, her grades and teacher's recommendations actually getting her somewhere. Yes, don't take her as an ungrateful woman, glad that she was given somewhere to go after being shipped off to Oxford, her mother providing substantial money to find and buy an apartment. Yes, that's right, buy. Her mother even covered costs of attending university, and she was eternally grateful, but also disappointed she couldn't fulfil her duties of being independent as she wanted to, but she wasn't selfish, either. Ten years later and she could count on one hand how many times she's had a call from her, yet, after promising on those calls that both herself (her mother) and her 'father', would come visit. She couldn't even begin to count on one hand how many times they've come to see her. Zero. And, besides the point, she never had the heart to tell her mum that she was going through some tough things in life, fearing she would be met with words similar to 'stop being silly, you're just uneducated', or even better, 'you just don't know how to go about life', - all before she got to the actual reason she called. But that wasn't it at all, because she was perfectly fine in the aspect of having resources. She had an excellent education, a roof over her head and skills to get her somewhere in life, whether she had much of it left, that is. That's why she didn't have the heart, nor the confidence to tell her mother that she was dying, over the phone. She also feared that her mother wouldn't care. Wouldn't believe her. So here she was, strolling the streets in, the dizziness the succumbs her in the morning, the feeling of nausea that doesn't drift until around lunchtime a lot of the time. She tries to prevent wearing black in pure daylight, it attracts sun and heat, which could make her pale and fragile skin burn, making it turn red and peel at a much faster rate than what the rest of the human race would know. Refraining from wearing black also means the people who walk behind her oddly skinny figure don't have to see the constant fall of her blonde hairs that shed from her head, sticking to the material of her clothes. She doesn't want to freak anyone out. But today, Lillian wore black. She typically wears a long sleeve on the top half and long pants on the bottom half, prevents from scaring people, and more importantly herself away, from her constantly bruising skin, the weakness of her own skin bruising at the slightest touch with a little extra force, for example, hitting her elbow on the kitchen bench. Bruise, almost a few hours later, black and blue skin in a circular shape. With a negative mindset almost half the time, her mental health isn't always they greatest, as she sees how her body is affected from treatment, how strong it's getting as her body somehow, after some rounds, grows weaker. Independence was important to Lillian, as mentioned before. She had one, a real friend who stuck close by for a while, but dropped out of the degree they were in together half way through to move to Scotland. Sophie was her name, but after tears and shouted goodbyes at the airport, a promised call every week soon turned into calls once a month, and then once every birthday, maybe on Christmas day if she were lucky. Lillian doesn't even know if Sophie remembers her. So she didn't tell her. No one knows. It's hard that no one knows about that battles Lillian has with herself every day, fighting through the pain, the surprises and the side effects. She doesn't have an outlet, anyone to go to. Her confidence is drained to the point of no return, so she wouldn't even consider going to visit someone like a counsellor. It's been three years and seven months as of the beginning of July 1980. Today. January 1977, not the nicest way to start off the year when you're diagnosed with cancer and given, at that point in time, a message, one saying to 'live the next five years of your life to the fullest', because the doctor's didn't even know if Lillian would be here for her thirtieth birthday. This really isn't how she imagined her life to go. She knew since she was fifteen that she wanted to be an author. Yes, she was eternally grateful that she had an excellent education, the beginning of her life set up for her. But she also wanted to become an author, whether that meant she published a book and it made two people's bookshelves at home or if it meant she became the most known author in the world for the next ten years. She didn't know, she didn't care, she just wanted to get a book published. Lillian is twenty-seven years old. Her birthday is in April. In all honesty, she has a maximum of two years to get this book out, and if she does, she will die a happy woman, as long as she gets one of her works published. She didn't care if she didn't have a boyfriend, a husband for that matter. Yes, she may have been a little upset at the fact that the chance of her having children was becoming closer to impossible than highly unlikely, but what could she do? She was a woman walking around, her 'cancer tag' of sorts, invisible to the rest of the world, to the naked eye of the people that walk past her on a day-to-day basis. She'll sometimes get bruises on her shoulders when people unnecessarily barge into her. But what she felt right now was a sense of loss of direction. Her recent chemotherapy session was a little stronger than the last, and one of the side effects was a lack of remembering things. Forgetting things all of a sudden. Surroundings, thoughts, all those types of things. This thought overwhelmed her, as she tried to escape her routine of staying home in isolation for most of the week and escape to the different parts of England, wanting to explore. If she didn't have long left, she needed to do it. Lillian really didn't know where she was; picking up the pace as she sees street signs not far ahead through her blurry vision, both from tears and as a side effect. Speed walking was a common thing Lillian did, sometimes to escape the world when it all got too much. Running was something she refrained from doing, the speed her legs were to travel at making her muscles stiff after a while. Another side effect. She knew the city she was in. Norfolk. She was still in England, but she doesn't remember what specific part she's in. This is the difficult part, trying to remember. Slowing down as she enters a street with townhouses, mostly single or double storey, nothing extravagant. A quieter part of the town. Friendly looking. Lillian calms down a little, walking slow with an effort to make her heart rate drop back to average resting rate, so she wouldn't visibly stress once more. But her heart rate only sped up as she realises she's reached the end of the street. A no through road, no way to get to any other part of own unless she turns around, but that was the opposite of what she wanted to do. Her breathing increases, the effort to summon her energy to turn around and walk back to where she originally came from disappears, so she turns back and walks forward towards the door in which she was standing not too far away from. Knocking. A thing that makes her nervous. The chance of having to communicate with someone. She wasn't introverted, god no. She was as extroverted as could be... or, more or so used to be. She believed she still was, but, that was for both her and whoever answered the door to find out. Her breathing may be rapid, and her mouth may be dry, desperate for water. She was dehydrated- but her breathing only increases once more, her mouth becoming impossibly dryer than she's met with a confused face of a man, blonde. He's beautiful, and she knows who he is. She seems to forget everything she's supposed to know as she makes eye contact with this man's piercing blue eyes. She knows who he is. It's Roger Taylor. Drummer. Famous. Queen. "Uhm... Hello?" He asks, clicking his finger in front of the startstruck girls face. "Can I help you?"

TAG LIST: @rogerinathehystericalqueen @toger-raylor @jennyggggrrr @xox-talia-xox​  @hottestofspaces @stormtrprinstilettos @devil-in-those-eyes @redspecialty @brian-roger-deaky-and-fred @ogrogerbattle @im-addicted-to-queen @killerqueenbucky @xgoingdownx

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[spaceskam]

i’ve only kissed out of fear (3/4)

Summary: a ceremony and a wedding night warning: mentions of abuse, a painfully long description of a wedding

part one - part two - part three

ao3

Michael looked good.  Like ‘holy fuck how am I supposed to keep my hands to myself’ good.

Alex had always known Michael was attractive, it was a hard thing to miss, but it was usually in a rugged way.  Unkempt hair, torn up clothes, the strong smell of must that was just made tolerable by deodorant if he’d gone without a shower too many days in a row.  But today, their wedding day, he’d gone all out.

They’d checked into the motel room, courtesy of Jesse Manes, at around noon after they’d had lunch together for the first time in public.  They didn’t work up the courage to hold hands, there were too many people around, but their knees touching beneath the table felt like a big enough step.  

Regardless, they’d taken some time to get a little bit dressy before heading to the courthouse. That was when Michael had strolled out of the bathroom looking so good with his hair all tamed and his button up shirt all the way up tucked into tight jeans with a bawdy belt buckle, all tied up with a black cowboy hat.  Alex had never really imagined himself with a cowboy, but Michael pulled it off so well that he proved to be an exception.

That being said, it took a little bit longer than planned to get to the courthouse due to one or both of them seriously lacking self-control, but they eventually made it.  Now, they stood across from each other in front of a justice of the peace.  

Alex watched as Michael mindlessly bounced on his toes, adoration filling every inch of his body.  That was the man he got to marry.  The hyper, giddy telekinetic alien cowboy of his clearly oddly specific dreams.  Alex couldn’t be more satisfied.

Ideally, all their friends would’ve been there and they would’ve gotten a proper honeymoon and then gotten to go home together to wake up each morning in the same bed forever.  That fantasy, however, included them actually planning a wedding and being a bit older.  This would have to suffice.  And it did.  He couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy, this carefree.  All because of him.  

“You boys ready?” the JP asked.  They hadn’t actually gotten her name.  Or maybe they had and Alex just had been too focused on his future husband’s tight jeans.  Did he mention Michael looked great?

“Yeah,” Alex said at the same time Michael had promised an “absolutely”.

And, with heavy breaths, they joined hands.

Alex admitted struggled to keep up with what the woman was saying.  He’d always struggled with paying attention.  Every movement and sound would steal his attention, usually driven by paranoia.  His father would be loud with threats and slamming things, or he could be silent with swift aggression.  Alex had become so accustomed to unwarranted attacks that he was strikingly aware of his surroundings at all times.  It never bothered Michael when mid-conversation he would look off into the distance.  He’d just sit quietly until he came back.

The woman officiating their wedding, however, didn’t have that practice.

“Alex,” Michael whispered as he squeezed his hand, amused eyes meeting his as he was dragged back into reality.  

She was speaking, “…will take responsibility for the quality of your life together, abundance and delight will mark it.”  Alex felt his face burn as he realized he’d almost zoned out during one of the most important parts.  “Alex, please repeat after me.  I, Alexander Manes, take you, Michael Guerin, to be my husband.  I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.  I will love you all the days of my life.”

Alex repeated her words line by line even though he felt a little sick having to go first.  It was like being the first one to present a project in class, only it was saying literal marriage vows.  What if he fumbled?  What if he embarrassed himself?  What if Michael laughed at him and said it was all a joke?  Of course, that’s not what happened.  Michael spent the whole time smiling so wide it had to be painful, squeezing Alex’s hand, and bouncing up and down on his toes.  It was the whole package that made it easier.

Once it was Michael’s turn, Alex was seconds away from exploding.  Michael had given Alex countless heartfelt confessions, but hearing the simplistic vows made him feel gooey inside.  It didn’t feel real, it felt more like a daydream he’d probably had when doodling his name into the margins of his notebook during AP Gov.  But here he was, saying those things and making it even harder to think about when they would have to say goodbye.

“Alexander, do you have any special words you’d like to say?” she asked.  Alex glanced at Michael and thought of all the romantic things he’d ever said and decided now was a better time than any to get his own piece.

“Uh, yeah,” Alex said, gulping softly as he looked Michael in the eye.  Michael raised his eyebrows and traced his bottom lip with his tongue, settling his bouncing toes long enough to give Alex his full attention.  Time to pull some romantic shit out of your ass.  “Uh, I’m not really good at the romantic proclamations, that’s more your forte, but… Okay, so when I was little I wasn’t really allowed to watch TV because my dad was one of those people who thought it was rotting your brain, but I did watch it when I got to visit my grandma.  She basically only watched, like, soap operas and really old movies that were boring as hell.  Well, most of them were boring, but every once in awhile West Side Story would come on.  I remember the first time I ever watched it because it was just, just a lot.  It was so inspiring to me musically and artistically and I just loved it. So, so much.”

Michael grinned, “Didn’t know that.”

“Shut up, it’s still my turn,” Alex insisted, his face heating up even more as he gently kicked Michael’s leg and let his eyes focus more on the floor, “There’s this scene in it, the One Hand, One Heart scene and from the first time I saw it, I was captivated.  Like, it’s easily the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.  I knew right then that that was what I wanted.  I dreamed of having a love that was that encompassing, a love that made it so hard to be apart that you’d resort to having a wedding in a bridal shop in the dark as long as it meant being together.  A love that was so strong that there was no silencing it, you had to tell that person regardless of the consequences.  I never thought I’d ever actually find it.  But then I met you.  You make me feel so loved and wanted and cared for and hopeful.  Every time I’m not with you, I want to be.  I want to sing songs about you in the streets no matter what anyone says.  It’s why I’m here right now with you because I’d rather elope with you than ever have to lose you. The lyrics of it say it, ’now it begins, now we start, one hand, one heart. Even death won’t part us now’. And that’s it.  That’s us.  You’re my dream, my future, my heart, no matter what.” Alex finished with a deep breath, finally looking back up to Michael.  His cocky face had softened into something sweeter than he’d ever seen, his confidence placed to the side as he let a shy smile take over his red-tinted face. “Was that okay?”

Alex was a little lightheaded. Admitting something so personal was physically draining and nerve-wracking and almost embarrassing.  He grew a greater appreciation for Michael and his willingness to be so open and honest.  Honestly, he found himself loving him more just talking about it.  Maybe that’s why Michael did it so often.  It amplified things once they were taken well‒it felt good.  Exhausting, but good.  

“That was great,” the JP said with a smile, “Michael?  Do you have any words?”

“Well, nothin’ I say’s gonna top that, but I’ll try to find something,” Michael said, rocking up onto his toes as he tried to gather his confidence.  He shot Alex a wink and that charming little smile. Self-control played her part at keeping Alex from stepping closer.  “Alex, you know me.  You know things about me that absolutely no one else in the world knows.  I am open and bare when it comes to you.  It scared me at first because I didn’t get it.  I didn’t get why I felt that way around you like I was just drawn to you.  I needed your attention all the damn time and even when things got… bad, I still just wanted you around me.  I don’t have much to offer, I’m not rich and I’m annoying which is a bad pair, but you take it.  You take what I have with nothing but love.  I never really had a family until I met you.  You’re my family.  Just like you said, you’re my future and my heart and you’re everything.  Just… everything.” He ended up with a sigh, looking over to the JP with a wild smile.  Alex rolled his eyes as fondly as possible.

“You’re absolutely my family,” Alex added softly, squeezing his hand once more.  Again, that sweet smile.  Could it be kissing time already?

“Do you boys have rings?” she asked.  Alex didn’t expect anything in the form of a ring from Michael.  They hadn’t actually talked about rings and they had decided so last minute that there hadn’t been much time to worry about that.  Alex did, however, think about it and the fact that Michael’s left hand wasn’t exactly in a good shape for rings.  In lieu of a ring, he’d taken the key that had been for his locker during school and put it on one of his chains.

Alex was digging in his pocket for it only to be shocked to see Michael doing the same thing.

“I don’t really have money, so I just made you one.  If it doesn’t fit, I’ll fix it.” Michael said, that same mischievous glint in his eye as he pulled out a silver band.  Something burst in Alex’s chest, tuning out everything else as fireworks sang in his ears.  He made him a ring.  Alex couldn’t even fathom how he managed to do that and make it look that good.  God, he made him a ring!

It was something he would have to take with him when he left.

“Uh, I-I figured you couldn’t wear one, so I have this,” Alex said, pulling the chain from his pocket.  It felt minuscule in comparison.  Yet, regardless of how lame it was, Michael’s entire face lit up.  Alex had to wonder if anyone had given him anything before, or put in enough consideration to know he couldn’t wear rings.  He made a personal note to dote on Michael as often as he could.

The JP began speaking again, “…and the unending circle symbolizes that your love may never cease.  Alexander, as you place the ri‒necklace on Michael, please repeat after me: Michael, I give you this ring, as a symbol of my love.  I ask you to wear it as a sign to the world that you are my husband.  With this necklace, I thee wed.”

Michael took off his hat, pressing it to his chest and he bowed his head to let Alex slip the chain onto him.  His heart thudded hard against his chest as did so, Michael turning his head just enough to graze a soft kiss against his arm.  “I thee wed.”

When it was his turn, Michael repeated the same words and slipped the ring onto Alex’s finger.  His hands were shaky and he almost dropped it twice which had filled the room with their laughter, but he eventually slipped it on.

The rest of the ceremony could not move fast enough.  Alex didn’t really want it to be over, but he did want to get his husband naked.  They had even stripped the motel room from its gross sheets and blankets and replaced it with the newly clean blankets from Michael’s truck that he’d washed sometime during the night.  He couldn’t wait to be wrapped up with him all night with no worries.

Their ‘I do’s came and went.  When Alex heard ‘kiss the groom’, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.  That was the only phrase that mattered.  They kept their kiss quick and signed the few papers they had to sign to make it all official even quicker.  They barely made it back to the truck before they slammed into each other, frantically happy kisses being shared.

“I can’t fucking believe I have a husband,” Michael laughed against his lips, cradling his face like it was the only thing that mattered.  Alex’s hands were admittedly wandering and he really wanted to get back to the motel room.  He had fully intended to memorize every inch of Michael Guerin’s body along with the way he smelled and the way he spoke.  He refused to forget anything about this man who he loved more than anything.

“Me neither.”

The motel was only fifteen minutes away, but it felt like an eternity.  None of it felt real.  Alex Manes: eighteen, future Airman, husband. Who the fuck would’ve thought that would describe him?

He hadn’t lied during his vows, he had genuinely spent his entire life idolizing an undying love that was as overwhelming as it was for Romeo and Juliet, Tony and Maria.  He never thought he’d actually get it.  He had a little hope until he started realizing that actually couldn’t happen.  His father had tried to beat the gay out of him before he even knew that’s what it was.  It took him too long to realize it, a good few years spent in denial and trying to conform to his dad’s wishes.

It wasn’t until the summer after ninth grade when he’d been shipped off to a military summer camp that he realized there was no turning back.  A gorgeous 16-year-old future Marine named Emmett had spent most of the time he could trying to catch Alex’s attention.  Alex thought it was weird at first, he couldn’t figure out why some guy wouldn’t leave him alone.  His mind had been warped into thinking that it wasn’t okay, that it was something perverse.  But eventually, he found himself wanting to spend all of his free time with Emmett as well, laughing and talking and standing closer than they really should’ve. It wasn’t until Emmett had pulled him to the side on the last night of camp that all the fuzziness in Alex’s mind had cleared up.  Something about another boy’s mouth against his made him feel alive for the first time in a long time.

That feeling had mulled in his mind for weeks until he realized that wasn’t wrong. His dad was the wrong one in this situation.  There was nothing gross about how he felt, there was nothing perverse about having a crush, there was nothing morally corrupt about being in love.  And now, now that he was absolutely lost in love with a man who was smart and special and beautiful, there was no doubt in his mind that this was right.  This was so, so right.

“Alexander Guerin, what a fuckin’ name.” Michael cooed, holding Alex close by his waistband as he fumbled to unlock the door to their room.  It was a little too bright outside for Alex to go in for a kiss, but he still let his fingers mess with the belt around Michael’s waist.  “My husband Alexander Guerin.  Fuck me.” Michael laughed his disbelief as he finally got into the room.

Still, Alex smiled, “I will gladly.”

Alex was once again reminded just how right he was whenever he found himself hovering over Michael’s naked body.  Michael looked good all dolled up, but he looked best when he was comfortable and bare.   It made it that much better whenever Alex realized he had stripped off everything but the chain around his neck.  When he eventually rolled over, the imprint of the key had pressed itself into his chest.  Alex would be lying if he said that didn’t make him love him a little bit more.

“I liked your vows, Alexander.  Don’t know if I mentioned that.” Michael said softly as he pulled Alex’s sweaty body against his. Alex draped his leg over Michael’s thighs, allowing himself to snuggle close.  He didn’t plan to let go of Michael until he was forced to.  He needed to soak in every minute he could get.

He was leaving way too soon.

“Please stop calling me Alexander,” Alex argued, closing his eyes.  When he opened them again, he witnessed Michael floating the remote to the TV into his hand.  That was going to take some getting used to.

“Maybe.”

“So, is that all you can do?” Alex asked, getting distracted.  Well, not completely distracted, his hands were still rubbing up and down the man he could now call his husband.

“Uh, I mean, I have a weird, kinda psychic-y bond with Max and Izzy, but pretty much it, yeah,” Michael said, not even bothering to turn the TV on as he moved to face Alex.  The fingers of his good hand ran through his hair and Alex was sure the sweat in it was helping it stick straight up.  He didn’t mind.

“They can do the same thing?”

“No, it’s kinda like we have specialties.  Izzy can, like, get in people’s head, reads their minds.  Like they don’t know when she’s there, but they can’t lie.  She can even influence them to do something if she tries really hard,” Michael murmured, his eyes avoiding Alex’s just long enough to be concerning.  Alex went to ask if she ever did something bad with it, but Michael was already speaking again.  “Max’s thing is with electricity, but he has literally no control.  He gets one strong feeling and he causes a fucking power outage.”

“Wait, is he the one that caused the power outage in school a couple years ago?” Alex asked, the amusement of it all taking over any negativity that came from speaking about Isobel.  The amusement amped up to laughter whenever Michael nodded.

“Liz Ortecho touched his hair and he fucking lost it,” Michael laughed, moving his hand down to pull Alex closer.  If Alex had a choice, he’d have Michael’s grip burned into his skin.  “Nah, but he also can heal which is cool when dumb shit happens like that time I almost lost my foot to farm equipment.”

Alex smiled, but it didn’t last long.  Especially when he caught sight of the gauze wrapped hand that was laying against his chest.   His eyes focused on it.  He knew how bad it was.  Michael never talked much about it and he definitely didn’t go without it being covered in some way, but Alex knew it was bad.  Sometimes when they were making out, he could feel the spasms that it had.  Other times he’d seen Michael just flinch in pain that it caused him if he moved it a certain way or too often.  Alex knew that it was his fault that Michael was suffering.  Yet, now he was hearing there was a way to stop it and that Michael hadn’t taken it.

“Wait, he has healing hands?” Alex asked softly.  Michael nodded simply, letting his eyes close as he leaned in for a kiss.  Alex didn’t reciprocate.  “Okay, so why didn’t he heal your hand?  Why is it still messed up?  If he can heal you, why is he letting you suffer?” Alex sat up, his stomach tied in knots.  For a moment he felt almost as bad as he did that night.

“Alex,” Michael began softly, sitting up with him, “He offered to, I told him no.”  Alex couldn’t see his own face, but he was sure it portrayed just how horrified he felt from hearing that.

“Why?  Why would you tell him no to fix that?” Alex demanded, his voice coming out shaky.  Tears burned at his eyes and his chest began to burn too.  He couldn’t get a good breath.  “Why do you want to look at that?  I hate it.  I hate looking at it.  I-I hate it.  I did that to you.  Oh my god, why did you marry me?”  Michael’s hand went to his shoulder.

“Alex, c’mon, you‒” Alex pushed him off, climbing out of the bed.

“No, stop trying to comfort me!  Why didn’t you let him heal you?  Why do you want that on you?  Why-why are you with me if you want that on you?  Why did you marry me knowing I’m the reason you’re mutilated?”

Sometime during his pacing and rambling, Michael grabbed his hips and made him stop and look at him. Alex wanted to tell him to let go, to stop comforting him when he didn’t deserve it, but Michael looked more serious than he’d ever seen him.  He let him speak.

“Alex, too many people have seen the hand already.  If he fixes it, it’ll get attention that I don’t want.  I’m not risking getting found out because of something that I can handle just fine,” Michael said softly, moving his hands up to cup Alex’s face, “And it’s not your fault. It is completely on your father, not you.  I don’t blame you.  I will never, ever, ever blame you for that.  Alex, you are not your father.” The words were said with such sincerity that he almost believed it.

“Okay,” Alex whispered as Michael rested his forehead on his own.  Alex let out a slow breath, letting himself completely trust this boy.  This man.

“I married you because I love you.  Because I want to be able to see you and love you and be told if you’re hurt.  I want the dedication that comes with it, with you.  You are my family, Alex. and I will love you until I die.  You can yell, you can try to push me away, you can hurt me. None of it will make me stop loving you.  It’s you, Alex, it’s always gonna be you.” Michael promised.  Alex let his eyes flutter closed, closing the little space left between them.

This kiss was a little different from the other ones they shared today.  It was slower and filled with a little less giddiness from before.  Instead, it was confirmation.  It was sealing his words, his promises with a kiss.  A kiss that made him forget his name and that he was upset.

It was admittedly jarring to really register that Alex had his own family now.  Not one that hurt him, not one that he had to lie to, but one built on honesty and trust.  He never wanted to lose it and it scared him to think that all the time they’d be spending apart in their future might cause exactly that to happen.

Michael eventually pulled out of the kiss, ending it with a soft peck on his nose and resting his head on Alex’s.  He was still holding his face and Alex leaned into it, absorbing the positive energy that was coming off of Michael.  That’s what he wanted to remember.

“I got us somethin’,” Michael said softly.  Alex eyed him wearily which caused one of that take-out-the-sun smiles.  “Don’t look at me like that, Guerin.”

Usually, when Michael let go, Alex would be left feeling cold, but this time he was too fuzzy with joy from the name to notice.  He sat back on the bed.  Michael went to the table where his bag that held basically everything he owned sat.  He pulled out something wrapped in his shirt, unraveling it to reveal a bottle of wine.

Alex raised an eyebrow, “Uh huh, and where did you get that from?” Mischief doused Michael’s boyish features as he approached Alex again.  His knees went on either side of Alex’s bare thighs as he sat on his lap, the bottle of wine grazing his back as Michael draped his arms around his neck.

Alex was scared he was going to run out of space with all the things he needed to remember about Michael Guerin whenever he left.  This went to the top of the list.

“The Evans’ cellar.”

Alex’s eyes went wide as he laughed, “Dude, you can’t just steal shit.” He grabbed Michael’s hips, holding him in place.

“Says the guy who took how much from his father, hmm?” Micahel teased, bumping Alex’s nose with his own and resting their foreheads together.  “No, but I really just wanted to celebrate with you since we don’t get a real honeymoon and they have a whole cellar, they really won’t notice.  I even took the cheapest bottle they had, I checked.” Alex pecked his lips.

“Sounds good to me.”

Michael grinned and hopped off his lap.  That time it did leave him feeling cold.  Still, he watched as Michael grabbed the little plastic cups beside the sink.  Alex smiled helplessly as Michael hummed and moved his hips as he poured the wine into the cups. If this was a glimpse of what it would be like when they lived together, Alex couldn’t wait.  

Alex took one of the cups from his hands as Michael placed a kiss to the top of his head.  An involuntary hum vibrated in his throat, his eyes lingering on Michael’s bare ass as he took a sip of the wine.  Michael went back to his bag which was really a let down since Alex was hoping for more kisses.  That let down was replaced with confusion when he pulled out a bottle of nail polish remover and that confusion quickly morphed into momentary horror when he began trying to pour it into the wine.

“What are you doing?” Alex demanded.  Michael looked over his shoulder at him and it seemed to take him a minute before he even realized that what he was doing was weird.  

“Oh!  My bad, I’m not used to drinking with people who are, like, human,” Michael laughed which did nothing to soothe Alex’s concern.  “Acetone is like a drug, I guess, to us.  Kills our pain and stuff, but it’s easy to use it a little more recreationally.  Usually, I drink it straight, but mixed with alcohol isn’t bad either.” he explained.  Alex nodded slowly.  Somehow, that was the weirdest alien fact he’d discovered in the last day.

“So, as many questions that I will ask about that later, I just want you to know I will actually not kiss you if you drink that,” Alex said, pointing a finger at him.  Michael had the audacity to look insulted.  “Don’t look at me like that, Guerin, I’m not about to make out with nail polish remover.  You drink that and you’re not getting near my face until you brush your teeth, like, 20 times.”

Michael seemed to weigh his options, but, after a minute, he sighed and screwed the top back on.  Alex rolled his eyes when his husband sulked back to him, dropping dramatically on the bed and miraculously not spilling a drop of the drink in his hand.

“You’re no fun.”

“I don’t want you fucked up anyway, so I don’t feel bad,” Alex laughed, sipping on the wine before placing it on the side table and moving to lay against Michael’s chest.  He liked how easy it was to get comfortable against his body.  It was like he was meant to be there.

Michael let it go with a soft smile, pushing his damaged hand through Alex’s hair.  “I meant what I said in my vows, I hope you know that.  Well, hope you believe it.  You are my family.”

“I believe everything you say to me.” Alex insisted, feeling Michael physically relax at his words.  “You’re my family too, no matter what happens.  Even if we divorce or go a million years without speaking, you’re my family.  You’re it, Michael Guerin.” Alex wasn’t even phased when his back hit the bed and Michael’s cup floated to the table.  

Suddenly, he really knew what happy felt like.

[edsperegrine]

Musings on gender

So I want to talk a little bit about gender, specifically my gender and my feels around it.

Where to begin... my external and internal bits are what you'd expect from a cis woman (breasts, vagina, uterus, ovaries, wide hips, &c).  Hormonally it's a bit more complex - I have very low circulating estrogen (apparently below that of a standard postmenopausal woman, apparently this is due to being on hormonal birth control), barely menstruate (I haven't had a full-on period in probably more than a decade now), and (thank goodness) no longer have cramps. Plus my vagina is dry as a desert, and I have difficulty with penetrative sex due to vaginismus resulting from Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome's effect on my pelvic floor musculature (long story short: my muscles are in permanent spasm holding my hips together, which makes penetration really hard because I physically can't relax the muscles). Pre-birth control I had heavy irregular crampy periods and I can't say I miss them much. Never been pregnant, have lactated once due to medication (fun! not actually fun).

So that's the biological side of it. I'm definitely not intersex or anything on that spectrum; the hormonal weirdness started after birth control treatment, and hasn’t been a lifelong thing for example.

When I was a teenager I wondered if I was FTM trans - oddly I grew up knowing about trans* folks before I knew about queerdom in general, mostly because my stepfather's roomie in college was an early MTF trans pioneer activist, and trans* identity was seen as a good, normal thing people could have (I was super lucky in this, most folks I know never had this as a normalized phenomenon as kids). I put it down at the time to an inadequate supply of good female role models in my fantasy/sci-fi literature and never really thought about it much. I've always been a tomboy, uncomfortable with typical performative "feminine" things like makeup, hairstyling, fashion, going to the bathroom in groups, yadda yadda. I wandered through most of my young adulthood pretty sure I was a cis woman. I certainly wasn't a trans man, and those were the only choices, right?

I met a few nonbinary folks in grad school, and it honestly took me a while to come to terms with the existence of gender as a non-binary phenomenon; I was fine with the idea that you could cross from one bank of the river to the other, but confused by the idea that you could exist somewhere in the middle, or outside the whole thing entirely. It took living with an (awesome!) nonbinary person during postdoc #1 to wrap my head around gender as a complex phenomenon rather than a simple binary switch, but now I'm firmly on board and a bit shamefaced about how long it took to get there! Whoo cis privilege.

Fast forward to postdoc #2, where I do fieldwork in Panamá. Compared with other places I've lived (USA, UK, Switzerland), the gender culture in Panamá is very different, far more 'typical' Mediterranean. Most relevantly to me, women (or anyone appearing different, actually) are subject to street harassment at a painful rate, ranging from elevator eyes, catcalls, invitations, horn honking, slow driving, and even police harassment. Very few Panamánian men are completely innocent of this behavior; the majority I interact with in person are like this, and it's disgusting. There is no good answer to this; although we talk a lot about fieldwork safety we usually discuss being targeted by other fieldwork colleagues, not being targeted by the culture as a whole. Oh well.

My months in Panamá were a whole new ball game where street harassment was concerned. In the US I'd occasionally dressed androgynously when I knew I might be a target (late night bus rides in Seattle come to mind), and I'd been a target on occasion, but it was fairly rare. In Panamá it was every day. I began to feel less and less female as time went on, and I was there for five months. When I returned to the UK it was a revelation - men on the street didn't stare, didn't catcall, and I could trust that the average man wasn't thinking about me as a sex object. Wow. I felt more comfortable being female in the UK, where being female doesn't automatically mean being sexually harassed on a daily basis.

So now, what is my gender? I'm not sure. I know I'm not male, I don't identify as trans* either. Demigirl doesn't feel quite right either (I prefer demiwoman, actually, it feels less... juvenile? patronizing? but if it's not my identity it's not really my place to say anyhow). I feel somewhere in that gray area between female and agender, with no tinge of male. I don't feel particularly fussed about pronouns; I use female ones because I'm used to them and it's what people default to based on my appearance. I am happy with singular they as well. Male pronouns feel a bit weird but not objectionable most of the time. No draw to other pronouns.

Two things influence my gender as well: my asexuality and my perhaps-autism-spectrum. As someone who is firmly asexual, I... don't get sexual attraction to people of any gender (maybe once or twice ever). I don't understand how sexual attraction even works! In some ways I feel that if I were e.g. heterosexual I would find defining my gender more easy because it would be the opposite of (or at least different to) what I was attracted to. Since I can't define my gender by my sexuality, out the door that goes. On the second point, I don't have a formal diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder (ASD) but I am probably on the spectrum (it sure explains a lot of childhood & adulthood stuff). Lydia X. Z. Brown has discussed the term 'gendervague', writing:

"For many of us, gender mostly impacts our lives when projected onto us through other people’s assumptions, but holds little intrinsic meaning... For many (but certainly not all) autistic people, we can’t make heads or tails of either the widespread assumption that everyone fits neatly into categories of men and women or the nonsensical characteristics expected or assumed of womanhood and manhood." (https://www.aane.org/gendervague-intersection-autistic-trans-experiences/)

This feels close to me - in some ways I feel that I don't "get" gender the same way I don't "get" sexual attraction. What is gender anyways? What is it for, how is it useful? I sure don't use it to choose who to hit on in a bar! I don't precisely *forget* what gender an acquaintance is, but when I think of, say, Bob, the first thing that pops to mind sure isn't Bob's gender, but instead his hobbies, how we know each other, etc. I could describe Bob as a man, but it feels irrelevant somehow.

So, what am I, anyways? My body is a somewhat hormonally weird female body (in my case I am comfortable referring to my body as female for shorthand's sake, though I understand for many people this may not be an okay way to refer to their own bodies). My gender feels like it exists in some weird space between agender, female, demiwoman, and gendervague - the closest major category is probably nonbinary, with fluctuations on a daily basis (but genderfluid feels wrong, since the fluctuation space is relatively small most days).

In "Brave New World," Huxley introduces the term "freemartin" to refer to humans (as opposed to its traditional use in cattle) - XX people who are given a dose of testosterone before birth, rendering them sterile, and likely qualifying them as intersex people. In cattle, freemartinism happens when a cow is carrying twins; the female receives some cells in utero from her brother and becomes a chimera, externally female but infertile, somewhat masculinized. With my weird low estrogen levels (never had the other hormones tested), in some ways I feel like a freemartin - bodily surely female, hormonally less female. Though obviously not intersex, so maybe it's not such a great term, but it just FEELS right somehow.

So perhaps I exist as a freemartin, nonbinary human. I'm still not sure; this is a living, evolving phenomenon for me.