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Bruce goes to Smallville to attend an opera, accidentally finds his soulmate.
///
Medallion.
A medallion is a round metal disc which some people wear as an ornament, especially on a chain round their neck.
Words: 1,290
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Scars, Courting Rituals, No Dynamic Clark Kent, Omega Bruce Wayne, Crush at First Sight, Pre-Relationship, Not Beta Read, Not Edited, Awkward Flirting, Jewelry
@fandombingo The Blooming Hour Bingo — Lovers with matching scar patterns
@multifandom-flash Soulmates — As you come of age, your soulmate's name appears on your wrist
@superbateveryweek Superbat For All Seasons Bingo — Opera
The Water Crests and Sinks Away (He Looked Just Like a Navy Man)
Epilogue Four - Brooklyn, New York - November, 1945.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James 'Bucky' Barnes x Original Male Character (Winter x Lt. Gregor Tyne)
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> In which the holidays roll around, and Effie challenges Greg.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2131
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> E - Vague implications of societal homophobia, but nothing heavy.
Please read mindfully and be aware that this will be set in the arena of WWII and naval service, with corresponding themes, including but not limited to mentions of military procedures and weaponry, and era-typical attitudes to homosexuality.
𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Masterlist can be found here.
Prompts -> - ‘"We Can't Waste Time Worrying About the What-Ifs."' - @fandombingo (Bleach).
<- Epilogue Three
The holidays crept up without warning, slowly surrounding them without comment.
It happened quietly and without ceremony - the date built in to the calendar on the wall when produced, not noted by either man deliberately. The rhythm outside the apartment shifted - from the mundane and the everyday to the quiet reverence of the holiday season.
Winter remarked that the bakery had a longer line than usual.
Tyne reflected on the increasing deliveries to the butcher.
Neither said anything - not directly.
On Thanksgiving, Winter woke to Greg already dressed, stood at the counter with a look of concentration that implied that either he was attempting something ambitious, or that an inanimate object had once again developed opinions.
Occasionally both.
“You’re doing things,” Winter noted sleepily, leaning against doorframe.
With a brief glance over his shoulder, Greg arched an eyebrow. “I’m adapting.”
With a stretch and a yawn, Winter moved closer, peering into the mixing bowl. “Is that-?”
“Yes,” Greg replied, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “I asked your mother.”
Leaning in, Winter dipped his finger, and hummed. “You followed the recipe.”
“I always follow the recipe.”
The younger man smiled fondly, leaning against his lieutenant’s shoulder. Tyne shifted instinctively, moving to accommodate him, his arm settling around Winter’s back with an easy familiarity.
The smell of pumpkin and cinnamon began to fill the apartment before long, and it felt like Home.
The cookies are just as good as his Ma’s, and Winter told him as much around a groan and a mouthful of crumbs.
Greg grinned like he’d been given the key to eternal happiness.
“I guess following the recipe isn’t always a terrible decision,” Winter acknowledged reluctantly, brow furrowed in a teasing scowl.
When a knock sounded at the door, Greg answered it, Winter hovering a few steps back with curious uncertainty.
The neighbor that hovered on the doorstep - sharp eyes seeing everything, a knitted scarf high up her throat to keep out the chill - offered a small tin.
“I had extra,” she informed them by way of explanation, her gaze moving between the two men with an open, but not unkind, curiosity.
Tyne thanked her, and offered some of his cookies in response. Winter simply smiled.
When the door closed, the younger man looked at his lieutenant steadily. “… She knows.”
Greg considered his comment for a moment, before nodding. “I suspect so, yes.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No,” Greg replied slowly. “It feels… Efficient.”
They began to develop their own routines.
Sunday mornings meant walking to the market. Greg carried the bags, most of the time. Winter wandered off and came back with something that wasn’t on the lieutenant’s list. Every time.
Evenings meant reading - Greg on the sofa, Winter on the floor with Tyne’s fingers carding idly through his hair. Winter was always the first to stop, closing his book and snagging Greg’s glasses when it started to get too dark.
“You’ll strain your eyes.”
“I was nearly finished!”
“You were four pages into a new chapter, Gregor.”
Tyne sighed, long-suffering, and let himself be pulled to bed, trying to pretend he didn’t love it.
It was a life. Ordinary. Soft.
Earned.
The first time it happened, it was at the store with Effie.
“This is Gregor,” she explained to a woman from her block, her hand resting casually on Tyne’s arm. “He’s family.”
Greg froze, and Winter’s head snapped up from where he’d been debating arbitrary differences between two loaves of identical bread. “Ma-”
“What?” she replied, shooting him a look.
Tyne swallowed. “Mrs. Barnes…”
“Oh, hush,” she interrupted. “You’ve been eating my food for weeks. You live with my son. That makes you family, whether you like it or not.”
The woman simply smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you.”
Greg nodded in response, dazed. “Uh… Likewise.”
It wasn’t until they were walking home, Winnifred having gotten a few paces ahead, that Greg finally spoke again, his voice quiet. “She didn’t- she just…”
Winter grinned. “Yeah. She does that.”
“She didn’t ask.”
The younger man smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “She didn’t need to, sweetheart.”
Winter smiled when Effie set Greg’s place at the table.
He grinned a little wider when they’d finished eating and Tyne moved to help clear the dishes, his Ma passing his partner a towel like it was just part of their routine.
“Don’t forget,” Effie noted, “we’re having dinner on Sunday.”
“We are?” Greg repeated, blinking.
“Yes,” she answered, without turning. “We are.”
Winter watched the moment Tyne realized it, surprise and disbelief flitting across his features.
The sudden flash that he had not just been welcomed, but claimed.
A part of the family.
The Sunday dinners became a recurrence without anyone really declaring it as one.
It just… Happened.
Winter and Greg began to show up at Winnifred’s apartment around the same time each week - usually carrying something that Tyne insisted on buying even though Effie always told him not to bother.
“You don’t have to bring things,” she pointed out, every week.
And every week, Greg simply nodded. “I know.”
He continued to bring them anyway.
Winter helped without being asked, moving around the small kitchen with the ease of familiarity that made it seem like he never left.
Greg tried to help, too - usually hovering uncertainly until Winnifred handed him a task with the same brisk authority she once used on her son.
“Peel those.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Winter grinned, and Effie pretended not to see.
They ate crowded around the table intended for two, elbows brushing and conversation easy. Effie would tell stories about the neighbors, and Greg would listen with the same intensity he applied to most things in his life, asking polite questions that made her smile.
Winter often simply watched in silence, something warm and incredulous settling deep in his chest.
They were never ones to take many photographs. It felt strange at first - in a life they carved out of impermanence, it felt too deliberate. Too much like trying to fix a spot that might not be there tomorrow.
But one afternoon, stomachs still full and heavy with the lethargy of a good meal, Effie insisted.
“Sit,” she ordered, already adjusting the camera, addressing her boys with a tone that brooked no disagreement. “I want one.”
Winter flopped into the chair with the acceptance of one who knew that protest was futile. Greg hesitated for a moment, then sat beside him, posture careful until Winter’s knee knocked gently against his lieutenant’s.
“Relax,” he murmured softly.
Tyne exhaled once, and tried his best.
The photograph caught them mid-smile - Winter leaning slightly toward his partner, Greg’s hand resting near the younger man’s wrist without quite touching.
It was… Ordinary. The kind of photograph that any couple the world over might have.
Which was exactly the reason that Effie loved it. There was no difference in her eyes between photographing her son with a woman or with the lieutenant - she was simply capturing her Jamie with the person he loved.
She framed it and put it on the shelf without ceremony.
Greg noticed it the next week after, staring at it for a long moment until Winter came and tucked himself into his side.
“We look… Happy,” he observed softly.
Winter smiled, squeezing his hand. “We are.”
Winnifred Barnes rarely announced her intentions.
She didn’t believe in making noise about things that were simply going to be. Instead, she observed, noted, and adjusted accordingly. Prepared.
The first thing that Winter noticed was the cupboard.
“Ma,” he started slowly, brow furrowed, “why do you have more of everything?”
Effie didn’t even look up from where she was trimming the green beans. “Because two people frequent this apartment and live like they’re afraid things will disappear - and one of them has been forgetting to shop ever since he was old enough to walk to the corner alone.”
Tyne’s head snapped up, startled. “I can g-”
She waved a hand dismissively as he began to rise, her gaze barely lifting. “Sit down, Gregor. You’ll only get in the way of my routine.”
Winter grinned, and Tyne sank back to his chair obediently, looking baffled.
The second was the calendar.
Winifred Barnes had always kept a calendar, never wanting to forget the important things, her neat handwriting penciling in appointments and clothing collections, birthdays circled with care.
At some point, she’d begun to add new entries, written with the same quiet, certain hand.
Gregor - doctor, 9:45am.
Gregor - coat mended, 3pm.
Both - Sunday lunch.
Both.
Effie watched from across the room as Winter half-smiled, his hand coming up to trace the word with his fingertip.
“What?” she asked, never missing a beat.
“Nothing,” he replied softly, still smiling to himself. “Just… Noticing.”
She nodded once, returning to the paper without further comment, content to let him notice.
The third sign was the not-so-subtle hint.
Greg and Effie were doing the dishes together - she washed, he dried - when she noted, with the same tone she would use to comment on the weather: “You know, the apartment down the hall is still empty.”
The lieutenant paused mid-dish, freezing like a deer in headlights. “Is it?” he replied slowly, visibly pushing himself back into motion.
“Yes. Mrs. Kline moved out months ago now,” she mused, handing him a plate without looking directly at him. “Too many stairs for her knees these days. I suppose they just haven’t managed to find someone to take over the tenancy yet.”
Winter paused, his eyes shifting to the back of his mother’s head, already sensing what was coming.
“They’ll probably rent it to someone nice,” Effie continued innocently. “Quiet, I imagine. Two men, maybe. Ones who don’t mind carrying groceries.”
Greg swallowed, his eyes still on the plate now in his hands. “That would certainly be… Convenient.”
“Mhm,” Effie agreed. “And close.”
Winter let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Ma.”
She turned, her gaze shifting to him, fixing him with a look that brooked no nonsense. “What?”
“You’re… Planning.”
She shrugged, just once. “I’m preparing. It’s different.”
“For what?”
“For the day you stop pretending this is temporary,” she answered plainly, her eyes flicking between the two men slowly. “For either one of you. For you to live together, properly, rather than in a way that makes it easier to pretend that this isn’t forever.”
Greg folded the towel in his trembling hands once, then again, before placing it down carefully, not quite looking up. “… Mrs. Barnes…”
“Effie,” she corrected immediately. “And you listen to me, Gregor Tyne.”
Greg blinked owlishly, but she met his eyes without flinching.
“I already buried one son,” she noted quietly. “I will not bury another by denying who he is or pretending he hasn’t built a life.”
Winter stiffened minutely. They’d barely talked about Steven - his mother had shown him the clippings she’d collected from the papers, showing his ascent to heights previously unimagined - and then his sudden disappearance. Winter knew there was an exhibit about the man he’d considered his brother, but he hadn’t yet brought himself to visit.
He didn’t know if he could bear it, seeing everyone praising the man who he had become.
Winter had cherished the person he was.
Greg’s throat worked soundlessly for a beat. “I would never deny him, or hurt-”
“I know,” Effie interrupted gently. “That’s why you’re still here.”
She turned back to the sink, picking up the next dish as if nothing had happened. “You don’t have to move tomorrow. Or next month. Or ever, not if you don’t want to.” She shrugged a shoulder. “But when you’re ready, if you’re ready… There’ll be a place for you.”
Winter stepped forward at that, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing his cheek to her shoulder, eyes closing as his chest ached.
“Thank you,” he breathed, and she patted his arm with a soapy hand.
“You’re welcome,” she replied easily, the smile evident in her voice. “He’s already family, Winter. The world and its paperwork can catch up later.”
Winter smiled, squeezing her a little tighter. Beside him, he heard Greg swallow hard.
Later, as they lay in bed, Winter’s head resting gently on the lieutenant’s chest, Greg spoke into the dark.
“I’ve never had this,” he murmured quietly.
Winter tipped his chin up, tracing the older man’s features with his gaze in the dim light. “Had what?”
“A place where I’m not… Provisional.”
The words came softly, laced with pain and grief and decades of being someone who moved along when their job was done. Winter pressed a kiss to his shoulder, gentle and certain. “You’re not going anywhere, pretty boy.”
Greg let out a soft, contented sigh, arms settling more comfortably around his partner.
“No,” he replied, the smile audible in his voice. “No, I don’t think I am.”
Prompts Filled: @whumpay Day 20: “I know you’re in there somewhere” Fight, @fandombingo Kisses, Chaos, & Catastrophe Bingo: N2: One Is Sent To Kill The Other
The Water Crests and Sinks Away (He Looked Just Like a Navy Man)
Epilogue Three - Brooklyn, New York - June, 1945.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James 'Bucky' Barnes x Original Male Character (Winter x Lt. Gregor Tyne)
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> In which civilian life starts to seem a little more tolerable.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 928.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> E - Mentions of nightmares (non-graphic).
Please read mindfully and be aware that this will be set in the arena of WWII and naval service, with corresponding themes, including but not limited to mentions of military procedures and weaponry, and era-typical attitudes to homosexuality.
𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Masterlist can be found here.
Prompts -> - ‘Order vs Freedom' - @fandombingo (Bleach).
<- Epilogue Two
Whenever Winter woke from a dream he didn’t remember, heart racing, Greg was always there.
Even before the younger man had fully surfaced, Tyne was beside him - not panicked, just present, an arm around his partner’s waist.
“You’re here. You’re safe,” Greg murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but nevertheless steady, strong, unwavering.
Winter pressed his face to Tyne’s collarbone, the familiar warmth and immovable muscle grounding him. “Yeah.”
Without asking, Greg’s fingers smoothed his hair, slow and repetitive until Winter’s breathing evened out.
“Sorry,” he muttered eventually, grimacing.
“For what?” Greg asked, with a soft, curious hum. When Winter didn’t answer, his lieutenant’s lips brushed against his temple gently, guiding them both back to the sheets, Winter’s body held a little closer than before, a little tighter.
“Go back to sleep, sweet boy,” Greg murmured, pressing another kiss to his partner’s forehead. “I’ve got you.”
When they rose, Greg made the coffee a little stronger than usual without mentioning why.
He never asked questions. Never pushed Winter to speak before he was ready. Sometimes he never did. Sometimes he would tell Greg about his nightmares in the light of day when the pain felt a little less sharp. Sometimes they’d burnt away so completely with the dawn that he almost forgot it had happened.
Sometimes, life was simply too good to want to return to the darkness.
And it would prove to be one of those days.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
Greg looked at him uncertainly, something akin to disorientation in his gaze. “What thing?”
“Lookin’ like you’re waitin’ for orders,” Winter chuckled, squeezing his fingers gently.
Greg shifted his posture consciously, frowning a little. “… Better?”
The younger man shook his head fondly, laughing. “Marginally.”
It was no secret that Greg found the civilian life and its lack of structure overwhelming. He’d made it clear time and again; he missed knowing what to do and where to be, what he should be doing with his hands at any given moment. After a life at sea, Brooklyn felt loud, and loose, and too full of people that did not care about the sense of responsibility he still carried, even without anyone under his command.
With a small, thoughtful hum, Winter stopped at a street vendor, ordering without hesitation. When Tyne tried to ask what he was getting, Winter simply waved away the questions, practically bouncing on the spot with impatience before he was handed two wooden sticks.
“Here!” He handed one off to Greg with a broad grin, watching expectantly.
“What… Is it?” Tyne asked, one eyebrow arched.
“It’s food,” Winter deadpanned with a sigh.
“I got that far,” Greg replied in the same tone, sighing back just as heavily.
“Just eat it,” came the response, accompanied by a snort. “Trust me.”
Almost reluctantly, the lieutenant took a slow bite, and his eyebrows lifted despite himself. “Oh.”
“Mhm,” Winter replied with a smug grin.
“That’s… Actually… Excellent.”
“See?” the younger man replied, nudging him lightly as he took a bite of his own corndog. “Civilian life, my love. Full of surprises. Like meat inside sweet bread.”
They walked slowly when they moved around the city. It was through necessity - Tyne couldn’t move with the same speed he used to - but also a sense that life was slower now. They had time to look around and observe where they were.
But when Greg slowed further of his own volition, peering in the window of a bookstore, Winter grinned.
This is new.
“You wanna go in?” he asked, head tipped as he considered his partner with an adoring ache in his chest.
Tyne hesitated, eyes flicking to the younger man. “… But I don’t need anything.”
With a snort, Winter took his hand, and tugged gently. “That’s not what I asked.”
Greg bought a book he didn’t technically need, and looked faintly embarrassed about it for the rest of the walk home.
Winter found it all extremely endearing.
The younger man cooked that night, with his partner sat on the counter, a companionable silence between the two, each focused on his own task.
Winter with not burning the pasta.
Greg with the exploits of a small, hairy man and a seemingly very crucial piece of jewelery.
“So this guy - this homely little guy, with his beautiful hole - an amazing description by the way - is just… Off in the world? With some dwarves that showed up and ate his food? And some troll mom out there was just naming her kid Tom? In a world where the protagonist is called Bilbo, and the other characters have names like Dwalin and Gloin and Gandalf… But not the trolls. The trolls have names like Burt.” He snorted to himself and flashed the cover at his partner. “Have you read this? It’s not bad.”
Winter’s lips twitched. “I did, yeah. A while ago, though.”
Without asking, without warning, Greg’s voice, low and melodic in its way, began to fill the small kitchen.
“They did not sing or tell stories that day, even though the weather improved; nor the next day, nor the day after. They had begun to feel that danger was not far away on either side…”
It became a new routine.
A few times a week, Winter would take over the cooking. Greg would sit on the counter and keep him company, reading aloud.
He read The Wonderful Wizard of Oz when he was finished with the Hobbit - and so they continued.
A small piece of their forever, page by page, lived quietly in a nondescript Brooklyn apartment by the water.
Title: Only Fools Rush In
Rating: M
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Warnings: Sexual Situations, Toxic Relationship Recovery, Dubcon, Postpartum Depression, Motherhood Is Not Easy For Elizabeth.
Prompts:
@monthlywritingchallenges Misadventure May: Heartbreak
@fandombingo The Blooming Hour: Turning a Rebound into Something Real, Letting Yourself Want Things
@tropevarietyhour: Anticipation
Summary: After discovering the truth about her relationship with Simon, Elizabeth seeks comfort with John. Their actions, however, have consequences, leaving her fighting for both her job and her new family.
Avery's eyes blurred as he clicked the respawn button, the screen frozen after Derek pushed him into the void. Finally after what felt like an eternity the world loaded and dropped him right in front of the first gates, right where Derek had first found the King in yellow, but when Avery tried to walk inside he found just a black blocks. Breaking them just revealed stone behind it, the more he tried to advance the more evident it was that there was nothing there.
Tags: Black Derek Hutchins | d3rLord3, Avery | AveryTheMayo Find Derek Hutchins | d3rLord3, Derek Hutchins | d3rLord3 Loves Avery | AveryTheMayo, Mentioned The King in Yellow | Hastur (Searching For A World That Doesn't Exist), Love Confessions, Angst, Angst with No Happy Ending, Avery | AveryTheMayo Needs a Hug
@killacharacterbingo 2026 prompt: "It's okay."
@fandombingo The Blooming Hour Bingo - Pretending it doesn't hurt
Fandom: Shoot From The Hip Sketches; The Screams of The Damned
Rating: Teen
CW: Depictions of Hell
Word Count: 2795
Prompts: @fandom-free-bingo Fandom-Free Build-A-Bingo • May 2026: AU; Winged Guardian AU
@fandombingo Kisses, Chaos, Catastrophe; Free Space
AO3
Notes: This was written all in one sitting and I only read it over twice for editing so sorry for any mistakes. Just a random idea I had.
Maureen had been content with her faith. Especially after she helped John get back to his family.
One good thing . She'd done one good thing.
But that didn't make up for, well everything else she'd done. And she knew that. She was okay with that. Hell is what she deserved now.
Safe to say, she was surprised when she was summoned to speak to Satan, when told he had an offer for her. More people on earth were getting into the dark arts, just as she had been. He said he appreciated her work 'in keeping the art relevant' and wanted her to help teach another.
"There's this one human girl who's really taken an interest recently, she's successfully sent someone to Hell already. Just think of what she could do with better training."
"I don't want to teach someone to be like me," Maureen insisted quickly. Her voice was small but echoed throughout the empty room she stood in.
"Never said you had to Maureen," the disembodied voice replied. "People die all the time, we certainly don't need her to kill any more."
"… Well then… why do you want me to help her?"
"It's all about keeping this important art alive Maureen. To be perfectly honest I don't really care what she does with the magic. All you have to do is teach her how. And keep her alive, preferably."
She found it hard to believe he didn't have some ulterior motive with this. She should say no… but then he'd just ask someone else. Someone who was here. Who might teach this girl to be exactly like them.
"Well?"
"I'll do it."
"Splendid, I had a feeling I could count on you Maureen."
A strong shiver ran up her back, like thousands of tiny needles pricking her. Soon wings with sharp black feathers sprouted out, Maureen fell backwards after accidentally flapping them once.
"You'll be her guardian and mentor Maureen. Do well."
With that minimal bit of instruction, Maureen fell through the floor into a deep red portal. Though she fell down into it, it was soon forcing her upwards. Towards the living world. She took the lack of gravity in the portal as a chance to stretch out her newfound wings properly. They'd definitely take some getting use to.
Maureen eventually surfaced, not quite sticking the landing on the carpeted floors. She quickly scrambled to her feet, met face-to-face with who she could only assume was the girl in question.
Maureen didn't know a lot about children, this one looked maybe… definitely older than fourteen. She had long blonde hair with faded red dye in the ends, likely done a while ago. Her eyes, a pretty dark brown, had gone quite wide as she stared at Maureen, who was surely quite the sight having just come up from Hell.
"Uh… hello there," she greeted awkwardly, taking a step back as to not overwhelm the girl any more. "I'm — my name's Maureen. I'm… well I've been sent to help teach and guard you… I suppose. Yeah…"
"Like… A guardian angel?" the girl assumed, taking a step back to lean against her bed. Apart from the initial shock, she seem surprisingly calm by all this. Apparently she'd already sent someone to Hell though.
"Kind of?" Maureen replied. "But those come from, up there-" she pointed up slightly, before quickly moving her hand to point down. "- and I came from down there. So… little different I guess…"
How did you explain to a child someone from Hell was supposedly there to help them?
"The… head guy down there — you know who — he wants more people to practice the kind of magic you've been. And… I was quite good at it when I was still alive, so he sent me to teach you. Does that make sense?"
"Sort of," the girl said, much to Maureen's relief. "But I'm not using this magic to like, kill people or anything."
"No — no that's what I said to him," Maureen insisted quickly. "No super evil things or anything it's — just whatever you want to do with the magic. Oh — and I'm suppose to help keep you alive too I guess… he kind of just threw that on the end of the whole deal… not sure if that's something you really need help with or not but… yeah."
"You really are like a guardian angel then," she remarked with a small laugh. "Or… a guardian demon? Are you a demon? You do have little horn things…"
Maureen reached up on her head where the girl was looking, managing to find two short, spiked horns.
"Huh… didn't know those where there…"
She took a moment to look at her hands, just to confirm she hadn't turned red or purple or something like that. Her skin did have an almost grey tint to it, but not a drastic colour change. That was something.
"I… I'm not really sure what I am to be honest with you. I mean — I was human. Once. Then I kind of died, how I ended up down there. But — yes I suppose I am like a guardian angel… from Hell."
"That's kind of cool," the girl remarked. "Not like… the Hell part. Sorry about that, I've heard it sucks down there. But you getting to teach me magic, that's pretty cool."
"Yeah… suppose it is," Maureen agreed with a small smile. She hesitantly reached out a hand towards the girl. "My name is Maureen, by the way. I don't remember if I said that already…"
"Alys," she said as she shook Maureen's hand.
Alys turned back to her bed, Maureen took notice of the several books spreed out across it. She recognized most of them, all on dark magic, satanic rituals, witchcraft, and the like. Certainly a good place to start.
"I have a few questions about how this is all going to work with you being here and like… other people seeing you, but you said you don't really know what you are so… maybe one of these knows more about this…"
"I think you should be the only one who can see me," Maureen assumed as she took a second to look at her reflection in the small mirror above the desk. Mainly to get a look at her new wings and horns. She had a tail too, a dark purple to match the horns. The heart shaped end was cute at least. And she didn't hate purple. "Least I certainly hope so… with me looking like this."
Maybe she should have asked a few more questions before showing up. Not that he really gave her a chance to. She'd just have to work with what she did know and figure it out from there.
"According to this book, anyone sent up from Hell for 'work' can choose to been see by the living or not," Alys read out. "Not specifically this situation, but it's something. Wanna try it?"
"Yeah, don't see why not," Maureen agreed. "Just… choose not to be seen."
…
"Can still see you."
"Ah… okay then… didn't work..."
"But maybe it's because you were sent for me," Alys remarked. "So I can still see you, but someone else wouldn't be able to."
Sounded possible, but would be harder to test without potentially scaring someone to death.
"Suppose so —"
There was a loud knock on the bedroom door, Maureen jumped.
"Uh — come in?" Alys said hesitantly.
Maureen thought her eyes were playing tricks on her as a familiar looking small boy pushed the door open.
"Alys, daddy says it's time for dinner," he reported, hanging onto the doorknob and swaying with the door as he spoke.
This was most definitely Jimmy, John's son. Did that mean… Alys was John's daughter?
"Yeah, okay. I'll be right there," Alys said, glancing briefly from Jimmy to Maureen. Clearly, he couldn't see her.
The whole thing made a lot of sense to Maureen, the more she thought about it. John had mentioned his daughter had an interest in magic, and she'd been the one to send Jimmy to Hell to get their father and helped Maureen send them both back. She might be able to talk to John again.
Though… would he like that she was around? She'd still killed all those people.
"Guess it did work," Alys remarked quietly as Jimmy left. "I should go. You can stay here if you'd like, or do whatever really. I'll probably be a bit."
"Yeah… I'll be around somewhere," Maureen said as Alys went to follow her brother.
Certainly she could to talk to John at least. Maybe he'd even understand she was here to help Alys, if she explained it clearly enough.
As quietly as she could, Maureen left Alys' bedroom and crept down the stairs. She hesitantly peered into the dinning room, really hoping no one else could see her. Alys and her family seemed to just be sitting down. Jimmy, her and John.
After how much she'd heard John talk about his family and how clear it was his children were the most important thing to him and how much they clearly loved him, Maureen found the sight of the family all together quite rewarding in a way. A small reminder of the one good thing she'd managed to do in her life. Well — after life.
… And she was given the chance to do more.
"Uh, Alys," Maureen spook a little quietly, even though the others couldn't here her. Alys looked up slightly in her direction.
"I'll just — I'm just going to be outside for a bit. See how these wings work. Uh… I'll be back, we can probably wait till tomorrow for any learning if that's alright."
Alys stood up from the table, offering to take the empty juice bottle to the bin outside. Maureen quickly followed behind and slipped out the door as she opened it.
"Thank you… I didn't even think about door."
Alys gave her a smile before returning inside.
Maureen wandered into the back yard, stretching out her wings as far as she could. Of all her physical changes, they'd be the biggest adjustment. But the idea of flying sounded quite useful. It took a lot of courage to try taking off, trusting her wings knew what to do. She only went a little higher than the house, doing a shaky circle around the building before making a less-than graceful landing back in the yard.
Not perfect, but not terrible. Thankfully, her wings did seem to know more than she did.
She laid down on the damp grass, staring up at cloudy sky. The sun that poked through was just starting to set. Maureen liked watching the sun rise and set… it would be nice to get to do that again. And stargazing, she liked that too.
But she needed to focus, focus on what really mattered.
She didn't trust that Satan wasn't expecting to gain something from her teaching Alys, now matter how Maureen taught her. It was hard to believe he sent her here solely because he thought the magic was 'a dying art.' She also didn't like how casually he threw on 'keeping her alive' to the job. Did he expect something to happen to Alys?
One thing Maureen did know, she had to tell John. If his daughter might be in danger, she couldn't just keep that from him. He was her first friend… her only friend. She owed him the truth. She'd fine a chance to tell him that night. Sooner the better. But not while he spending time with his kids.
Maureen stayed outside, listening through the window just to know when the family was finished dinner. She'd have to get back inside at some point… worse case she climb in through a window. But hopefully, she'd just be able to open the door when no one was around.
Maureen jump slightly as the back door opened, scrambling to her feet.
"I'll deal with the toy's Jimmy, just finish eating," John called back into the house before closing the door behind him.
How convenient. Now, she could let people see her if she wanted right—
"Aaak! — what the hell?!"
"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Maureen apologized quickly.
"Maureen?" John realized, hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath.
"Yeah, it's me," she confirmed. "Again, really sorry, I wasn't trying to scare you. And I know I look a little different now."
"Just a little," John agreed. "Think you almost gave me a second heart attack there, fucking hell…"
"I'm really sorry — are you okay?"
"I'm fine, just really surprised," he insisted. "Not only because of the new look, but because the last — well the only time I saw you was in Hell Maureen. How… what are you doing here?"
"Right — yes, that's what I wanted to tell you," Maureen remembered. "So uh… Satan sent me up here as like… a guardian angel I guess? But, from down there, obviously. Anyways, he wanted me to teach Alys more about the magic she'd been trying."
"Alys, my Alys?" John questioned.
"Yes, your daughter," Maureen confirmed. "I didn't know it was her when I agreed — but even then I said I wasn't going to teach anyone to do what I did with the magic. He said he didn't care what she did with the magic… but to be honest I'm worried he's planning something with all this. When I realized Alys was your daughter — I knew I had to tell you right away."
"Maureen — are you saying literal Satan sent you up here to teach my daughter dark magic for 'no evil reason?'" John laid out.
"Yes?"
John let out a long sigh of sorts as he sat on the edge of the deck. Maureen quietly sat beside him.
"Well… thank you for letting me know, I suppose," he began. "And I know we're friends of some sorts, and I do really appreciate all you did to help get me back to my kids, I really do Maureen. But… you still killed people. Surely you can understand why I would be a bit uncomfortable with you being around my child, teaching her things because. Especially considering actual Satan sent you."
"Yeah, no that makes sense," Maureen agreed. "And, there's a chance he really does just think this kind of magic is a dying art. Maybe?"
John didn't seem to believe her, which was more than fair. She didn't believe herself.
"If I leave, he'll just send someone else you know. Probably someone who would want her to be like them…"
"There's no way Alys would stop with the magic either," John noted. "I don't want to ask her to — she clearly loves it. Considering she used it to help me out of Hell, don't think it's a fair ask either."
"So I teach her," Maureen offered. "Teach her to keep doing good with it, I swear."
"I don't know Maureen…"
"John, the job I was given was to teach and protect Alys," she explained. "And I can promise you I will protect her in everyway I can. You are my friend, that's why I told you of the potential danger. I know it's not… well perfect… but wouldn't you rather someone who is honest with you — who you know — teaching Alys instead of whoever else he might send?"
John bit at his lip, clearly thinking hard over his lack of options.
"You promise you'll protect Alys? And no…. evil stuff? No matter what Satan says?"
"I swear on it," Maureen promised, hand over her heart. "And if he does say anything about what he might want, I'll tell you right away."
John held out his hand towards her.
"Guess we have a deal then."
Maureen shook his hand, giving him a small smile.
"Thank you for trusting me."
"Thank you for being honest."
The pair sat in silence for a moment. Unsure what to say next, Maureen eventually stood back up.
"Guess I should leave you to… whatever it is you were doing…"
"Right, yeah. Just cleaning up the yard," John remembered. "Uh… I don't know if you need a place to stay or sleep or something… but there's a spare room in the basement. Not the prettiest, but if you need somewhere…"
"Oh — yeah, I didn't even think of that," Maureen mumbled back. "That would be great, thank you."
John walked out into the yard and began picking up the scattered toys in the grass. Maureen went to go back inside, but paused at the door.
"You're a really good father, John," she said, quietly and without looking back to him. She was unsure if he even heard her as she went inside, almost missing his reply as the door closed.
