#celestial waves au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

awesumsaus · 10 months

Text

pretty when I cry

wc: 6k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: what was meant to be a slow relaxing morning after a night out with joel turns into something much more.

a/n: so I’ve been trying to work out the rest of my tlou series but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. it’s entirely self-indulgent, absolute filth, literally inspired by porn (but with feelings). pls skip if you’re not comfortable with anything outlined in the warnings/tags, otherwise hope y’all enjoy :] (and if anyone has any interest in a part two lmk bc I may or may not have some ideas lolol)

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, smut with a hint of plot, established relationship, age gap, reader is described as small/little but also curvy, hints of possessive!joel, daddy kink, almost dd/lg dynamics, subspace, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia (very consensual), size kink, dirty talk, so many petnames (baby, honey, pretty girl, little girl), painful sex but Joel is a consent king, aftercare, fingering, *cough* butt stuff *cough*, unprotected pinv, squirting, barely proofread sorry

It wasn’t uncommon, for you to wake up like this, Joel’s head of salt and pepper curls dipped below the covers, his mouth eagerly pulling an orgasm from your pliant body. So it comes as no surprise when you’re roused awake by the sound of your own whines and whimpers, slipping through your lips like soft little pleas. Your tired eyes shift to the top of his head, the sheets bunched at his wide shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning breeze blowing through the open bedroom window.

He works in slow languid movements, yet he has you gushing around his tongue nonetheless, his mouth warm and wet against your dripping sex, still soft and swollen from the previous night’s activities. You’d fallen asleep, damp and sticky, only after he’d pounded you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning.

Upon waking, the feeling of his cum still dripping out of you, legs wrapped around one of his dense thighs, it drove him positively insane. It didn’t matter how peacefully asleep you were, how steadily you drew breaths between your plush lips, he had to have you the moment his eyes set on you.

He senses you’re awake when your fingers delicately twist through the curls at the crown of his head. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations making your eyes fall closed once more as wanting sounds slip past your lips. You’d never been one for religion, but seeing Joel for the past several months has you questioning everything. The way his mouth moves against your pulsing core leaves you with no choice but to believe in some higher power, some celestial being that deemed you lucky enough to allow a man like Joel into your life.

He pulls away from your messy cunt and you whine at the loss. Your glossed over eyes meeting his with pupils blown wide. “Mornin’ pretty girl,” he says, his voice gruff and his lips shining with your slick. The sight sends another wave of warmth straight to your core.

“Hi,” you say, tone gentle and weary with sleep. A timid smile spreads across your lips as you run a hand through his scruff. No matter how many times you wake up next to him, how many times he fucks you senseless, you always manage to grow shy under his salacious stare.

He plants a fleeting kiss to your clit and you shudder, you can feel him smirk even as your gaze shifts to the ceiling above you. Your hand unknowingly grips his hair tighter and urges him towards where you need him most, not even noticing your own action until you hear Joel let out an amused chuckle.

“So needy for me, huh baby?” He runs a hand from your thigh over the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight over the certain spot by your hipbone that he knows drives you wild. His fingers end splayed across your lower belly, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Always need you, daddy,” you say, only slightly above a whisper, a small buck of your hips to get your point across. The petname has his already half hard cock twitching against the sheets, his other hand instinctively squeezes the flesh of your hip.

With no warning, his lips are on you again, his pace now fast and increasingly sloppy. He eats at you like a man starved, his curved nose rubbing against your clit with each of his movements. The intensity of it all makes your head spin and your cunt clench around nothing. A ghosting pain lingers in your lower half, another reminder of the evening prior.

The two of you had gone out, like you often did on Friday nights, deciding on a new spot downtown. Joel was hesitant at first, having heard it was more popular with the younger crowd, more catered to people your age. But he’d learned early in your relationship that saying no to you was nearly impossible, with your big doe eyes and sweet pleading smiles, he rarely had it in him to deny anything your little heart desired.

But God, the little black dress you wore nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you away in his bedroom for only his eyes to ever behold. Joel would never admit to being the possessive type. He knew what other men saw in you, wide eyed and sweet, kind beyond reason, with a gorgeous smile and beautiful curves. He saw the way they’d look at you, saw the way their eyes followed your perfect form, like predators stalking their prey.

He would never admit to being the possessive type, but his incessant grip around your waist in every public space and the death glares he’d send any man that looked your way proved otherwise. And despite your attempts to dissuade his arrogance, there was a part of you that craved to be claimed, to be marked as his.

The week had been long and draining. Your overbearing boss forced you to work overtime into the late hours of the evening nearly every night, and with Joel’s days often starting as early as 5am, he was usually sound asleep by the time you’d managed to feed yourself and drag your exhausted corpse to bed.

To no fault of his own, Joel hadn’t paid much attention to you this week, leaving you feeling neglected and irritated despite his generally relentless attentiveness towards you. And so you decided to toy with him, always testing his limits and seeing how far you can go before he snaps. You wouldn’t admit it, but you kinda liked him a little angry.

And boy was it easy to get a rise out of him, especially dressed the way you were, your ass only just covered and your tits spilling over the tight corset-like top of your dress. You had his blood boiling before the two of you even left his house. When you finally walked through the bar entrance, Joel was like a guard dog, his arm wrapped tightly around your lower waist, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face towards the many male bar goers that ogled you. He had you tucked so close to his body you were nearly tripping over his feet with each of your steps.

After your first drink you were feeling antsy, and a bit too bold for you own good, and so you flirted with them, boys you had not a single shred of interest in, laughed at their jokes and accepted their offers to buy you drinks, all the while glancing back at Joel, biting your lip, trying not to giggle at his grimace and the way redness began spreading up his neck. You’d retreat back to your table, to Joel, prizes in hand, and feign innocence when he’d question what you were up to.

“What do y’ think you’re doin’,” he questioned after you had slipped away to the bar a second time under the guise of needing to use the restroom. You padded up to him, slotting yourself between his thighs, twirling the straw in your drink between your fingers. Even sitting on the barstool he towered over you.

“Nothin’, daddy.” You looked up at him through your lashes, knowing fully well what your words did to him. You brought the hand that wasn’t holding your drink to his upper thigh, you could feel the muscle tense as you slid your way up, up, up.

“Watch it, little girl.“ He grabbed your wrist, hard. You instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He jerked you towards him, your chests nearly touching before bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, a stark contrast to the death grip he still had on your wrist.

His voice was low, a sign of warning. “F’ you want somethin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask, darlin’.”

You huffed and pouted slightly when he released you, ignoring the fact that your actions resembled those of a petulant child. Despite knowing that he would give you anything you asked of him, having proved it to you countless times over the course of your relationship, the neglected feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t want to ask, sick of making decisions and telling others what to do after the week you’d had. You wanted him to take.

It was after your third disappearance, this time to actually use the restroom, that Joel snapped. Passing by the bar, one of the young men that bought you a drink attempted to stop you in your tracks. You didn’t pay him much attention, just smiled and nodded at his words, quietly trying to slip by. But then his hands were on you, grabbing your waist in a way that made your stomach turn. You hadn’t even had time to register a response, to push him away and run back to Joel, before his hands were leaving your body and being replaced by much larger ones, rough and calloused. Joel’s hands.

“We’re leaving, now,” he grunted, pulling you by the back of your arm towards the exit. It was only after he’d practically thrown you into the passenger’s seat of his truck that you knew you were in for it.

You’d barely made it to the front door before he was ripping the fabric of your little black dress from your body, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor. Immediately you’d attempted to scold him, it was one of your favorites, but couldn’t get a word in before he was throwing your bare body over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom, promising he’d buy you as many dresses as you wanted if you’d shut up and let him have his way with you, let him fuck you stupid, until the only thoughts going through your head were Joel, Joel, Joel.

He spent the following hours relentlessly pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pliable body, impaling you on his thick cock until hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I know, baby,” he said from his place behind you, your limp whimpering form draped across the edge of the bed. “Just needed to be reminded who you belong to, huh?” His voice was mocking, but with a certain sincerity that made your cunt clench even harder around him.

“Yours, daddy,” was all you could manage before you came around his cock for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

Needless to say you were feeling extra sensitive this morning, Joel was hyper aware of this fact, yet the feeling of his tongue repeatedly diving into your abused hole had you begging for more. “Need you inside,” you say despite the hurt. Joel holds back a groan at your pleas, needy little thing. He pulls away just slightly to meet your gaze, his breath still hot against your core.

“Not gonna put my cock in you, honey.” The finality in his voice makes your heart drop and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. You were always like this in the mornings, he had come to notice, sensitive, soft, often emotionally even more so than physically. Joel had always been an assured man, never impulsive or reckless in his actions, always thoughtful and never selfish. But with you he’d learned patience. He’d learned to hold your emotions in the palm of his hand with a certain gentleness he never knew himself capable of. He’d learned you often needed more time than most to become placid, to settle, and so it became almost a sense of his, knowing when to take and when to give, even when you weren’t sure yourself.

“Please-“ you whine, tears in your voice. His big brown eyes soften when they meet yours, his resolve slipping only momentarily while he moves to kiss the inside of each of your thighs.

“Not gonna convince me, baby.” he tuts. “Can’t take me yet.” He moves higher, nuzzles into the soft skin above your clit. You let out a small gasp when he starts sucking harshly, surely leaving a bruise, a mark that only he will ever see.

“I can. I promise.” You wriggle in his hold, feel your wetness drip onto the sheets. He nips the spot and pulls away.

“Quit.” He pins your hips harder, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a goddamn tease last night I wouldn’t’ve had to wreck this perfect little pussy.” He runs a finger through your folds as he says it and you tense slightly. He raises an eyebrow at you, an I told you so look, you huff in frustration, yet you relax in his hold.

“You ready to be good f’ me, baby?” His voice seeps through your ears like honey, your mind beginning to wander to that all too familiar headspace you often turned to in these moments. You nod your head, eyes hooded. Joel senses the shift. “You’re gonna take whatever daddy gives you yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp as you feel just the tip of his index finger probe your dripping hole, Joel gauging your response.

“N’ then what d’ you say?” He twists his finger inside you and pushes in just to his first knuckle, the stretch already intense given your increased sensitivity.

“Thank you, daddy,” you sigh, not a single shred of fight left in you. A devilish smirk spreads across his face.

“Good girl.”

His hands are on the backs of both your thighs, hiking your legs up so that they’re pressed firmly against your chest, your glistening folds on full display. You shiver as the cool morning air hits where you’re most vulnerable. He then pushes your knees apart, situating himself so that his mouth is only inches from your core while still holding you in place, your legs spread obscenely wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

He spits directly on your clit and watches as it drips down your cunt, combining with the mess of wet already there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but it’s how Joel likes you, filthy with his cum and spit and your own slick. You tremble as he smooths his hand over your mound, his undivided attention on the mess he’s creating. When he’s satisfied, the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles into the bundle of nerves, making your hips buck once more.

He pauses his movements, his eyes dark and entirely void of any sense of leniency. “Not gonna tell you again.” A tear pools in your lower lashes at the loss of his touch, your breathing goes shaky.

“So pretty when you cry f’ me, honey,” his tone mocking. “Almost as pretty as when you come for me.”

His mouth is back on you, even more ravening and unrelenting than before. You have to bite down on your pillow to prevent yourself from screaming when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his warm mouth. Every cell in your body is screaming for his touch, needing more, more, more. You want to be enveloped by him by not just his mouth, but every part of him. You have the sudden desire to crawl under his skin, make a home for yourself there, where all you can ever feel is him, him, him.

The peaceful sound of birds chirping outside the window is drowned out by your cries and the pornographic squelches of your wet sex. Your vision blurs as his tongue plunges in and out of you.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he pulls away for only a second, his eyes not leaving your center as he anchors his thick arms under your ass and thighs, bringing your cunt impossibly closer to his eager mouth.

Joel knows your body, knows what every twitch and minor shift means, how your breathing quickens when he’s brought you right to the edge, the sounds you make when you’ve completely given in, forfeited all control. And he senses it, when his thumb presses against the cleft of your ass, and a moan slips from deep within your throat, that he’s uncovered something, something that makes his cock twitch and drip onto the sheets below him.

He pulls away quick, too quick, and your face burns, the fleeting sensation prompting a new surge of desire in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was foreign, a bit startling, but in a way that left you longing for more. If you were to trust anyone to delve into this part of yourself, this uncharted territory, it would be Joel. It would always be Joel. He knew how to take care of you better than any man you’d ever known. With him you were safe, you were heard, cherished and adored. With him there was no emotion too big or too small, no desire left unsated.

“Joel-“ you breath. “Joel, baby. I want-“

He pulls away from you, a knowing look in his glassed over eyes. “What is it, honey? What d’ you want?”

He can’t help himself and licks a long strip from your asshole to your clit, moaning at the taste. “Fuck- Joel,” you cry out, a drop of sweat falling to your forehead. “Want- want your fingers.”

“Where d’ you want my fingers, baby.” He says it more like a command than a question, but you can’t respond, your head falling back as he starts lapping at your clit. “You want them in this sweet little cunt?” He prods one of his thick fingers at your opening, but quickly pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing.

You bite your lip, eyes hooded. “Mm,” you shake your head. His eyes are nearly black now, something unhinged, sinful behind his gaze. He knows what you want, the seed already planted in his insatiable brain, but he wasn’t going to give in to your pleads that easily.

“Dirty girl.” His voice has dropped an octave. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please, daddy” you squirm, tears pooling at your waterline, threatening to fall at any second. His hardened grip on your hips softens for a moment before he’s turning his head and biting the inside of your thigh, hard. You gasp, a tear rolls down your cheek. “Use your words.”

“I wan- I-I don’t-,” you babble, the tears now flowing freely, leaving wet trails down your cheeks. He lets you choke on your words for a moment, not once tearing his eyes away from yours.

“Oh honey, I know s’ hard,” he soothes, sliding his hand along the curve of your ass. Your tears slow. “S’okay. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. No more cryin’.”

You sniffle, a small smile spreading across your face at his words. You always had a way of making him cave.

His expression goes serious for a moment. “What’s your safe word?” Red. “And you’ll use it if you want me to stop?” Mhm. “Repeat it.” His commanding tone sends a chill down your spine. “If I want you to stop, I’ll say red,” you say softly and run a hand through his curls, wet with a mixture of your sweat and his own.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna make you feel so good,” he says more to himself than you. Your brain turns to absolute mush when his mouth meets your skin once again.

Even with his head between your legs, even when he’s on his knees for you, he’s the one in charge, the one that dictates your every move. How your body twists and bends to his will. He decides when you get to cum, decides when you’ve earned it. And there’s a certain feeling that comes with it, this loss of autonomy, a sense of ease and security created by a total loss of control. No other man you’ve been with has understood, most of them only seeking to fulfill their own selfish wants. But Joel knows, having understood this unfamiliar part of you almost as soon as the two of you met, knowing exactly how to satiate that little corner of your brain that craves submission.

You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his calloused thumb return to your tight hole, tensing a bit when he adds more pressure.

“Relax, baby.” And you do, your muscles go lax almost immediately and the furrow in your brow softens. You exhale a moan as he begins kissing your cunt, avoiding your most sensitive areas so that he can keep you focused on the feeling of his thumb pushing into you.

“Fu- fuck, Joel!” You basically shriek when the tip of his thumb breeches the ring of muscle, it’s already all consuming, already so full.

He retracts his thumb and you let out a choked sound before he brings his thick finger to your wetness, gathering slick on the pad of his thumb before resuming his unrushed stretching of your virgin hole.

“More ngh- please.” He prods you painfully slow, assessing your every reaction as his knuckle plunges into you.

“Uh-uh. Don’t care how nice n’ polite you ask, baby. Not gonna ruin this little hole.” He plants wet kisses along your seam. “Not yet,” he says almost inaudibly against your mound before devouring you once more. The promise of more makes something in your brain snap, all the shyness and trepidations from before gone in one fleeting moment.

He stretches you slowly, the speed of his mouth quickening and his thumb beginning to slide more easily in and out of you. You’re entirely lost in the feeling, completely overwhelmed by the pressure and the speed of his tongue on your clit. You cry out when he removes his thumb, replacing it with his middle finger, and dipping his freed digit into your cunt, completely overcome, overstimulated in the best way.

It’s too much, but not enough. But no, it’s too much. He’s everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, your head. All you can think is how anything in life could ever feel this good. How anyone can be this good, this knowing of your every want, every need. The thought makes tears pinch at the corner of your eyes.

His gaze is fixed on you, every twitch, every shift. He nearly comes at the sight of you grinding down on his fingers. That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. His movements slow, your orgasm begins to fade and you whine. You’re not even thinking when you bring your delicate fingers to your clit and trace small circles against the bundle of nerves. Joel immediately grabs your hand and pins it to your lower stomach, nearly growling against your skin. Any other time he’d have you bent over his knee for not asking permission, but he’s so drunk on you, so dead-set on making you come apart, he lets this one slide.

“Need t’ come so bad, huh baby?” You nod your head furiously, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. “Go ‘head n’ ask for it then, baby. Nice n’ polite like I know you can.”

“Please daddy, please let me come.” You barely register the words falling from your mouth, but the proud look on Joel’s face tells you all you need to know.

It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. He sucks harshly on your clit, pulling it into his mouth, while his thick fingers work each of your holes. His hand holding yours presses harder, harder, harder until the tension snaps and you’re screaming, sobbing out as you gush around him, soaking his scruff to the point that your slick drips from his chin and onto the already drenched sheets. He works you through it, curling his fingers into your cunt so that another warm stream of slick hits his tongue. And he takes, not letting a single drop go to waste as he laps at you.

Your head is still buzzing when he finally ceases his movements, the shockwaves of your orgasm still flowing through you making your whole body shake. Your muscles convulse as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core.

With blurred vision you watch him stand at the end of the bed, his cock painfully hard, red and leaking. You hadn’t even considered what all this was doing to him, so lost in your own pleasure from the moment your eyes opened. You have the sudden urge to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth until he comes deep down your throat, but your body is limp, sunk into the mattress below you. You merely watch with hooded eyes as he fists himself, his gaze fixed on your slicked core, the sight makes another pool of your arousal drip onto the sheets.

“Fuck-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering against his own hold. “Need t’ be inside this tight cunt, baby.”

Your eyes go slightly wide at his confession, yet your lower half shakes with anticipation. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, this wrecked, desperate, this needy. He looks almost pained when your eyes meet his, and you feel as though you may just implode if he’s not inside you a moment longer.

“Will you let me, pretty girl?”

You nod.

“Yes or no, baby?” He squeezes the base of his shaft, staving off his impending release. You can’t help but smile a little, knowing he could come just like this, just from looking at you in your current state. But the need to feel him inside of you pulls you from the thought.

Yes, please, yes.

He grabs your hips and swiftly flips you, shoving a pillow under your lower belly and pushing down on you until you’re laid almost flat on your stomach. He grabs roughly at your hips, pulling you up so that his cock brushes up against your slick folds.

You bite down on your forearm when his wide tip notches at your entrance, basically drooling onto your own skin as you attempt to hold back your cries. He eases into you, still overly conscious of your sensitivity, ignoring the small part of his brain telling him to ram into you, make you feel every inch of him in one swift motion. He knows that you would take it, thank him for it, always such a good girl for him especially once he’s finally inside you, yet he knows the kind of control he has over you in these moments, knows it’s up to him to determine what you can and can’t take.

When he bottoms out you feel as though you may just split in two, something animalistic sounds from deep within Joel’s throat. Tears fall to your arm when your head lolls to the side, your breathing ragged and your whole body on fire from both pain and pleasure.

“Fuck- not gonna last, baby.” He starts moving in and out of you slowly, and god, it hurts, yet your tight cunt sucks him back in with each of his thrusts, a delicious burning sensation spreading along your slick walls. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him not to worry himself, to beg him to come inside your aching cunt. But all that escapes your lips is a choked sob in the sound of Joel’s name.

“Shh I know,” he coos. “You’re just so little, huh sweet thing? Little fucking cunt squeezing me so good honey.”

You keen at his praise, gushing around his massive girth. You’d never get used to it, the thickness of his cock, the weight of him deep inside your cunt. No matter how much he prepares you, it’s always a stretch, always just short of too much to bare.

His thumb presses into the cleft of your ass as his pace increases. “Gonna let me fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes daddy,” you say and he freezes for a moment, your words nearly sending him over the edge.

“Not today, little girl,” he growls and rocks back into you. A feeling of combined relief and disappointment washes over you. You’re not sure you could take it, not now, but part of you craves to be reduced to nothing but Joel’s fuck toy, fucked deep and full until you can’t even think, nothing but a few holes to be filled.

“You’d let me though, wouldn’t ya?” He pulls you from your thought. “Dirty fuckin’ thing.”

“Mhm, yes daddy.” Your vision goes black at the feeling of his cock pulsing against your cervix. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts went erratic, sloppy and slightly hurried.

“Let me do whatever I want to ya, huh?”

“Yes daddy,” you say the only two words left in your brain.

“Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby-“ The feeling of his warm release shooting inside of you makes you twitch around him and your brain go fuzzy. You can barely hear Joel’s grunts and moans nor his incessant praises over the ringing in your ears. This is what you craved, beyond the physical gratification brought on by these moments, but the way the world around you disappeared and you were filled with nothing but the content of being his, being Joel’s. The safety you felt beneath his large form, it leaves no room for worry, no thoughts of the stress of everyday life, no decisions to be made. Just him, just Joel.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, long enough to feel your combined release dripping from Joel’s cock onto your trembling thighs, long enough that you feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness.

When he finally pulls out of you, he lets your hips softly fall onto the bed, your body sprawled across the damp sheets. You feel the mattress shift behind you as he stands, immediately heading for the en suite bathroom. At the loss of his presence, you’re reminded of the open window, the now midmorning breeze dancing across your damp skin. You can’t help but wonder if the echoes of your morning endeavors made their way to the street below, if a neighbor passing by could make out the sounds of your shrieks and screams, if perhaps it’d been a cause for concern until it became apparent that your cries were derived from a place of pleasure and not pain nor fear.

Joel returns and takes quick notice of your shivering, immediately making his way to the window and shutting it. You smile to yourself at the sight of his bare backside, so strong and sturdy, the muscles in his shoulders sculpted from years of working on various job sites, tapering down to his waist, the dimples right above his ass. It’s truly a view you would never tire of.

“‘S impolite to stare, y’ know?” He catches your eye, a playful smirk spread across his face. You giggle at him, still laying on your belly, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow. He chuckles when you make grabby hands at him with your free hand, to which he quickly concedes, bending over at your side and planting a kiss on your lips. You sigh against him, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

“Hey baby.” He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your nose. He tucks fallen pieces of hair behind your ear. “You okay?”

You nod your head tiredly, unable to muster any more of a response, and he doesn’t attempt to pull one out of you, kissing your nose and rising back to his feet.

He disappears once again, this time returning dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a damp washcloth in hand. He sits next to you on the bed, moving to clean between your legs, but your thighs clamp shut. It’s a purely physical reaction, your body on high alert due to the sensitivity.

“Hey hey-“ he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine then leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Just want t’ clean you up sweet girl. I’ll be so gentle, promise.” His soothing makes your legs instinctively relax and he brings the washcloth to the apex of your thighs. He’s gentle just like he promised, yet you still hiss slightly when the warm material meets your sensitive skin.

When he’s finished, he grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts from the dresser, quickly returning to your side and urging you to turn onto your back. He dresses you, your body like putty in his hands, his touch gentle and warm. You can’t deny the aching feeling in your lower half when he slides your shorts on, but it’s a good kind of ache, an ache you’ll crave as soon as it dissipates.

You grab at him again when he moves to pull away, but he makes it easy for you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, careful not to bare any of his weight on you. The little whimpers that slip past your lips as your warm mouth moves across his make his spent cock twitch.

It scared him sometimes, the intensity with which he felt for you, the depth of his affections. It scared him, the thoughts he had, of what he would do to those who meant to hurt you, to those who have hurt you. It scared him, the thought of losing you, the lengths he would go to keep you safe, keep you here, here with him. But it was in these moments, when you’re laid beneath him, so soft and so lovely, that all those fears melted away.

Before things move any further, he hooks his arms under you and lifts you from the bed with ease. You don’t protest, not sure you could even if you wanted to, instead you latch onto him, curl your face into his neck and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you downstairs to the living room.

He attempts to set you on the couch, but you cling to him like a koala, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Let go,” he says firmly, a smile behind his words. “Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his skin, whining as he unfurls you from his torso and plops you on the couch. He places the TV remote in your hand, telling you to put somethin’ on, whatever you want.

He disappears into the kitchen and you attempt to sit up on the couch, your body going slack against the cushions. Your brain is still buzzing, it’s almost like you’re floating, not yet fully aware of your surroundings, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back to reality. You turn the TV on and set it to your latest recording.

Joel returns a few minutes later, your favorite water bottle and a plate of peanut butter toast in hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He sits on the couch, immediately urging you onto his lap, and you don’t object.

“The Bachelor?” He says, a hint of judgement in his voice as he unscrews the cap of the Advil.

“You love it,” you respond, beginning to lose focus on the show as you squirm and slither against his body, making yourself comfortable as if he were part of the couch. Joel softly chuckles, wrapping an arm loosely around you.

He holds a few of the pills in front of you. “Joel I’m fine. I don’t-“

“Not asking, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, but take the Advil from him nonetheless, swallowing them down when Joel holds the straw of your water bottle to your mouth, knowing your body would thank you for it later.

“Good girl,” he plants a quick kiss to your temple, before grabbing the toast from the coffee table, heat rises to your cheeks at his words.

He feeds you the toast, taking bites for himself while you chew. You hadn’t realized how depleted your body was, now feeling the haze lift with some food and water in your system. Every time it’s like coming back to earth, but fortunately you know that Joel will always be there to catch you.

y'all I’m not good at endings pls forgive me

but hope we enjoyed the rest :p

part two

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller fanfiction

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demonic0angel · 17 days

Text

Celestial Bodies AU (part 3/?)

(Part one, part two, part four, part five. Also on AO3)

Dick took a deep breath before he exhaled. He dialed up the number and was quiet as it rang. When it finally beeped, he greeted, “Hello, Bruce.”

“… Dick.”

“I’m taking Jason for a trip.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Where?”

“To see the cluster.”

He could almost hear Bruce grit his teeth, knowing that he distrusted the little galaxy even more after Dick had made a deal with one of the stars, binding them together. Bruce also especially hated them because even after more than half a decade, he still could not understand the mystery behind the cluster.

But Bruce was apparently desperate to talk to Dick again, since he sucked it up and allowed it. It was Dick and Jason’s first outing, and he seemed oddly happy to let Dick take away his adopted brother into space.

When Jason had heard about it, he was excited.

“Wait, I’m seriously going to space? I get to see the cluster too??”

“Yes,” Dick huffed. “We’re going in a few days.”

“Do I need to wear the uniform? I don’t, right? Isn’t the ship safe?”

“You don’t need to. Nobody but us and people with high authority can come to the station.”

“Sweet!”

Dick chuckled and teased, “You’re so excited.”

“And you aren’t? Well, I guess that energy levels can start dropping when you’re getting old,” Jason said with casual brutality.

Dick gasped. “What! I’m not old!”

“Your age doesn’t have the ‘teen’ in it anymore. Face it, Dickwing, you’re old.”

Dick’s jaw dropped, gobsmacked.

Was it possible to be this sassy at such a young age?! He wasn’t this snarky either when he was this young, right?!

“Y’know what? Let’s cancel the whole thing. I refuse to take this disrespect!”

Jason immediately began whining. “Wait, no! I’m sorry!”

They joked about it, planned some more, and then the day came where Dick drove into the Batcave, ready to pick up his… brother to hang out.

“Ready to go, Little Wing?”

Jason bounced on his heels. “Yep! We’re going to see space, right?”

Dick smiled and nodded. Bruce slinked into the Batcave just as the two of them were climbing into the teleportation tubes.

“B!” Jason called. “We’re going!”

“… okay. Be safe.” Bruce was quiet for a moment, as Dick was inputting the code for the space station that bordered the cluster his star was in. Then he added, “Both of you.”

Dick glanced up, gave a curt nod, and then looked back down again. Jason shifted awkwardly next to him as the silence ensued.

As Dick finished, Jason waved goodbye again and pulled on his elbow for him to do the same. Dick sighed and also waved goodbye.

“Bye, B!” Jason called, before the teleportation started and away they went.

They landed in the dock and Dick immediately checked up on Jason, who stumbled from the unexpected landing.

“How was it? Teleportation is neat, isn’t it?”

"By neat, you mean nauseating?" Jason snarked. He looked vaguely green, but quickly got himself back under control and then bounced back to being all smiles. "We're going to see your star, right?"

"And all of the other stars and planets too," Dick said. "Are you excited?"

"Yep! I can't wait to see what they look like! What are they like? Are they nice?"

Dick smiled at the thought of his star, who had been his sounding board, his (metaphorical) shoulder to cry on, his anchor when he had been adrift after losing his right to become Robin.

"Very nice. You've read the report on them, right?"

Jason nodded seriously. He recited what he remembered, "This star cluster consists of mainly planets and stars that used to be humans before being changed by an unknown entity called "Clockwork". This "Clockwork" person has a relationship or power involving time. The four stars in the middle of the cluster, who anchor it and are the center, consider Clockwork to be their protector and family. The four stars in the middle are royalty, are all related as siblings, and are also dead children."

At the last description, Dick winced and went, "Yeesh, I don't remember that part being said like that in the report."

Jason shrugged. "I’m paraphrasing."

Dick gave a small laugh and shook his head. Jason was surprisingly more fun than he had remembered. Usually, he remembered him being gloomy and bratty, as well as hot-tempered. Dick had not liked him at all, especially because Bruce had been a hypocritical asshole who had fired him for being a child and then turned around just to adopt another one and slap the name Robin on him.

(Sometimes, he wondered why Bruce hadn’t adopted him too.)

Dick was quiet as he led Jason towards the command room.

Once inside, Jason gave a loud gasp as he immediately flew forward to look out the glass.

“Is that—?”

“Yep.” Dick couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. He followed Jason at a more subdued pace and came up to the glass window. “This is the Phantom Cluster. It used to be considered a galaxy, but we discovered that a lot of the other stars and planets around it aren’t sentient, so we don’t consider them a part of the cluster. The star system in the middle pulled them in.”

“Whoa. How many sentient planets do they have?” He tilted his head this way and that in order to see more.

“Hmmm, somewhere around 3 dozen? But only those two talk to us and they’re considered part of the King’s “court”,” Dick said as he pointed towards the two planets that orbited the four cosmic bodies.

Jason stared at them with interest, eyes darting back and forth between all of the astronomical objects in view, the planets, the stars, the star corpses, the asteroids. As he stared in silence, he shivered and Dick took note of that, seeing that it wasn’t something that came from the cold.

He understood it.

These stars were once breathing, living, walking humans like they were. Children, too.

Now they floated in the empty void of space, silent beyond the radio waves they emitted, unfeeling beyond what emotions they had after transformation, existing beyond what was given to them in order to stay “alive”.

Sometimes, it was difficult to think of them as once human, when they were everything but that without the memories.

They gave off such a strong sense of otherness that it was almost frightening.

Jason pointed to the one with clouds covering its surface. “Is that… water vapor clouds?”

Dick grinned. “Yeah. That planet can hold life, but we haven’t touched down yet. It’s considered rude and they get angry.”

Jason smiled. “Cool.”

Dick pointed at his star. “That star is mine.”

“Wow,” Jason breathed in awe and pride swelled in Dick’s chest at the sound of his amazement. He gazed at his brightly glowing star with thinly veiled satisfaction.

Yes, it was a star now.

His star, who was once a black hole, had collapsed on itself on the day that he had shed his Robin identity and tried to find his own independence.

He remembered it so clearly.

——

“Uncle Clark! What do you mean my star is gone?!” Dick shrieked. He pressed his phone against his shoulder for easy movement as he started his car and began to drive desperately back to the Batcave, where the teleportation tube there would be able to take him straight to the station that watched over that strange, little galaxy.

He felt tears in his eyes as he drove like a madman past traffic and honking cars.

Only a few days ago, he had basically been fired from his lifelong job and passion after getting injured from fighting the Joker and he had only left the Manor today, and now he had to crawl back because his star was dying.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Why wasn’t anything going right?

It was just too much. Dick scrubbed the tears from his eyes and continued to bark on the phone, “Superman! What is happening?!”

“I don’t know,” Superman said. “Your star just stopped spinning a few days ago, and at first, I didn’t think it was a big deal because the rest of the cluster was still singing. But today, it started… shrinking.”

“Shrinking?! Tell me what’s going on!” His stomach felt like it was going through a wringer. He was almost sick with worry and exhaustion.

He had no one else now. Alfred was with Bruce, and Bruce had abandoned him. He couldn’t depend on other heroes like some charity case, and all he had left was his star…

Please… please let it be nothing.

“I don’t know. It’s shrinking and it’s stopped sucking in gas and matter a while ago too. This happened at least a week ago.”

Could nothing go right?!

Dick smacked the steering wheel of his car in rage, making it honk and the car in front of him to surge forward.

He raced back to the Manor and through the secret entrance to the Batcave. When Bruce came down to see what was happening, Dick had already gone through the teleportation tube and stuck a sticky note on the computer to tell him what was going on before he left.

For a moment, he thought Bruce could chase him, but he didn’t. Dick was left alone as he teleported to the space station.

When he landed on flat ground, he immediately took off towards the command room, where Superman was floating and staring out the window with confusion.

“Robin!” Superman called, and then he winced.

Dick felt his stomach twist into knots from the shame as he realized that his favorite superhero knew he was fired.

“You know,” he said tonelessly.

Superman grimaced and nodded. “I’m sorry. Batman shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yes. He shouldn’t have.”

Superman rubbed the back of his neck and then he gestured to the window, “There’s your black hole. I’m not sure why, but he started changing a week or two ago. I think it was around the time you got… uh, benched.”

It was both endearing and infuriating how Superman sugarcoated things to avoid hurting him.

It made Dick feel even more ashamed as he grit his teeth and realized that his star was being punished for his actions.

Dick laid his eyes on the cluster outside the window and felt his heart break. Like him, his star looked weak and small. Like it was stripped of its layers (his role, his mother’s nickname for him, his last piece of his family), it looked dull and small. It didn’t move as much as before either.

“My star?” Dick asked, his voice cracking as he came closer to the glass.

His star did not respond, still and silent. The song of the stars was quieter than usual too. It sounded sad and sorrowful, filled with melancholy and loss.

Dick felt tears in his eyes again.

Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to cry.

It was just inevitable. He and his star were connected in more ways than one. The two of them were bonded, two halves of a whole, two parts of a relationship, like milk and cereal, and peanut butter and jelly.

Okay, actually, he was just being melodramatic.

But the truth remained: Dick loved his star. He loved his star like he loved Bruce, like he loved Kory, like he loved his parents, like he loved Alfred, like he loved Barbara. His star was his family and he hated just how the both of them looked weary and worn out in this moment.

He remembered his childhood, where he would slip onto the manor’s roof and talk to his star, who would glitter and sparkle in the smoky sky of Gotham. He had loved it, had loved how he could see his star in the night sky, and how he responded back in the ways only a star could.

It sucked that his condition reflected back on his star.

It was unfair how Dick’s suffering and unhappiness appeared on his star too.

“R—… Dick, are you alright?”

Dick wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I’ll be fine. Can I… Can I stay here for a little while? Just a couple of days.”

Superman looked sympathetic and it killed Dick inside to see the pity on his face.

“Of course. Whatever you need. There’s more than enough food and water in the station…. Do you want me to talk to Bruce?”

“No.” His voice came back sharp. Superman winced and Dick wanted to feel apologetic, but he couldn’t help but be angry at the thought of his foster father.

“No need. I’ll be okay here, thanks.”

Superman then nodded slowly and left, leaving Dick alone in the command room.

His black hole hummed in the background, spinning slowly. Its dark light shone on him as it spun, but Dick could only feel cold.

That was to be expected when in a room across from three dead stars and a baby star, but the cold was inside of Dick as well, penetrating his bones and making his stomach feel like lead.

He felt sick. And tired. And exhausted. And pissed as hell.

He stayed in that command room for days. Sometimes, he just sat there and watched the stars move, as his black hole turned dimmer and dimmer until its event horizon could barely be seen.

Was it dying?

Robin was now gone, so did that mean that his star would be gone too?

The King quietly reassured him that it was not true, but Dick worried regardless.

When he wasn’t looking out the window in a daze, he was researching about job offers and career paths. He was still barely in school, and he needed to look onward after being kicked out of being Robin.

Occasionally, Superman would come by and talk to him.

“So what are you planning to do?” He asked one day.

Dick had been writing down a list of ideas for his future and he looked up then. “I… I’m not entirely sure.”

“That’s okay,” Superman reassured him. “You’ll find your path one day. And I know you’ll be great at it. You were always shining brightly, just like a star, I trust that you’ll find your way again.”

He grinned then and Dick returned the look.

“… I want to be a hero again.”

Superman hummed. “Well… not a bad idea. Are you sure? You know the danger of it.”

“I know,” Dick said, determined. “That’s why I want to continue doing what I love. Being a hero helped me in more ways than one. It helped me and it helped others. I want to continue doing good.”

Was it just him or was his star shining brighter?

Dick was distracted by Superman’s next words.

“I see. What are your plans? Are you going to go back to Batman?”

“I think… I think I’m going to go to Bludhaven. I’m going to become my own hero.” He smiled, as the plan solidified in his mind. He was already 18, he could transfer his college credits to another university and finish his education. He would find a job, an apartment of his own, he would finally be independent!

He didn’t need Batman. He was his partner, but if Batman wanted to treat him like a kid, then Dick would show him that he wasn’t. He was smarter, stronger, wiser, and braver than Bruce realized.

He didn’t need him. (Even if it hurt.)

The singing grew louder, then. Just barely noticeable, like the stars were excited but wanted to be quiet so the surprise wouldn’t be let out.

Superman smiled. “That sounds like a great plan. What do you think you’re going to be called?”

He had thought about growing out of Robin before, but since he was forced out of his role like cutting off a child from their mother’s milk, he had thought about it extensively since then.

He gazed at Superman, thinking of the legends he used to tell him when he was young.

“… I think… I want to be named Nightwing.”

Just as his words came out of his mouth, there was a loud bang that echoed from space, and then an explosion that rocked the ship. Metal screeched from the movement and everything turned white. Superman immediately flew at him, covering him with his own body as the spacecraft rocked and creaked ominously from the explosion. Dick was pressed against the floor and his eyes clenched shut as he unconsciously covered his ears from the loud impact of whatever exploded outside his window.

Once the heat dissipated and the ringing of his ears stopped, Dick realized what had happened.

Dick cried out, “No!” and pushed Superman off of him as he stared out the window.

But it wasn’t what he had expected.

He had expected to see devastation, planets blown apart, stars torn in two, nebula clouds drifting from stars going supernova, black holes gone with evaporation.

Instead, he saw a new star.

His black hole had disappeared and in its place, was a bright glowing blue star, hot and enormous, second to no one but his sister, the quasar. His star cooed once, “My Nightwing,” suddenly making everything connect within his mind.

Dick’s jaw dropped as then song burst from the radio.

And in it, something new.

Before, the singing had sounded like that of a group of children from a church choir. It was haunting and beautiful, but light and delicate. It was a song of loneliness and melancholy sung by a group of children who were cursed to become astronomical objects and be alone with only each other in the sky.

But now, there was a new voice.

No, it wasn’t new.

It had grown up.

His star had a distinctly bass and masculine voice, one of a grown man with a deep, almost velvety quality to it. Surprisingly, it melded well with the other voices and they all sang with the sound of new hope and new beginnings, a sign of the new times and change.

Tears came to Dick’s eyes again. It poured down his cheeks and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh as his entire body unclenched from the relief.

Of course.

How had he not realized?

His star wasn’t dying. It was growing up too. The stars had mentioned rebirth before, having been turned from stars into planets into stars again and then into black holes or neutron stars or more protostars.

Dick had been growing up with his star. His star was a child when they made a deal, just like him, and the two of them had grown up together. With the curse, it was the only way his star could find any semblance of becoming himself again. Now that Dick had shed his childish identity as Batman’s partner of Robin into a newer role, his star would also do the same.

“Dick?” Superman asked hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

Dick gave him a wobbly smile that probably didn’t reassure him by the worried look on his face. “Yeah. I’m just fine.”

With his star by his side, Dick would enter a new chapter of his life. He wouldn’t hesitate any longer.

He had finally grown out of the nest, ready to take flight with new wings. Now all he had to do was jump and spread them for a new journey.

——

“Uhhh… what’s that black hole doing?”

Dick snapped out of his thoughts at Jason’s words and looked up. Outside the window, while his star was still alongside his siblings, the quasar was spinning rapidly, flares bursting outwards and lights sparking from the collision of dust and gas.

“… no clue.” She kind of looked like she was showing off.

The singing on the radio grew louder.

They both watched as the quasar continued its little show as the communicator crackled noisily.

The radio hummed, the song slowing down to a halt before then it spoke.

“Hello,” a thousand voices echoed.

Dick pulled his gaze away from the window to look at the monitor.

The chatter of the stars grew more excited as the quasar continued to spin crazily. The King was at the forefront of the speaking stars, who said, “How do you do?”

“… we’re well, thank you for asking.”

Another voice quickly interrupted the neutron star, calling sweetly, “Robin.”

Dick froze, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. It was all too familiar of a scene. A scene that had occurred to him only 7 years ago.

Jason looked at Dick for answers, but when he was too dumbfounded to speak, Jason answered quietly, “Yes?”

“… do you want to help me?”

Dick and Jason stared at each other.

“Should I?” Jason asked him and Dick hesitated.

He had never felt like being the human host for a star was a burden. In fact, it held no repercussions for him, since all he had to do was grow and live and his star would follow. Frankly, it was almost a completely one-sided deal since Dick got all of the rewards.

His mouth felt dry. When they had mentioned Robins before, was it a sign that if Batman had more children and more Robins, they would all become a host for his galaxy?

“…. It’s your choice, Little Wing.”

Jason nodded slowly, and asked, “Who are you?”

“In front of you,” the voice called and the quasar gave a small spin with a burst of light from her accretion disk. Her jet pulsed and Jason oohed at the sight of it.

“Dick, who’s that one again?”

“That’s the quasar,” Dick said. “She’s the big sister of the cluster.”

Jason smiled, silent for a moment as he watched the quasar move before he answered her, “How can I help you?”

“Make a deal with me.”

“What do I get out of it?” Jason asked, as Dick put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

“I’ll watch over you. Protect you when I can… I’ll be yours.”

Jason smiled toothily. “But I don’t wanna be owned by something.”

There was sudden silence, only the crackling of static and the same sound of ocean waves filling the air. Dick eyed Jason with wide eyes, trying to telepathically sending him question marks for his vague refusal when there was seriously no downside.

Then finally, “You won’t be owned by me.” The quasar sounded hesitant and a little sullen, almost offended.

Jason tilted his head. “Okay. Then I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t own me, but we’ll belong to each other, ‘kay?”

There was silence again as the quasar thought about it. Then, sounding more pleased and extremely adoring, the answer came out in a quiet hushed and awed, “Okay.”

The quasar seemed shocked by Jason’s handling of the situation, who dared to even negotiate the terms of what they were to each other. Dick watched, slightly impressed as the quasar seemed even more endeared than before.

Jason said, “Deal!” before he put his hand on the glass and several flares came from the quasar.

Gas and dust rubbed against each other in an impressive show of lights and fireworks before one of the flares popped and then a piercing light came rushing towards them. Dick gripped Jason’s shoulder tighter before the light burst through the window and then into Jason’s hand, up his arm, and then his cheek before it then settled.

Jason gasped, bending over slightly as his hand came up to cradle his face as Dick rushed to catch him.

“Little Wing! Are you okay? Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it’d be this bad! It wasn’t the last time!”

“I’m okay, Dickwing! Seriously!” Jason batted away his hand and then looked up at his reflection through the glass. “Whoa.”

On the left side of his face, below his eye and on his cheekbones, lines began to appear with bright bursts of black, bloody orange, and a turquoise blue. The same four pointed star as Dick’s appeared, its lines long and pointed. As the ink began to settle, Jason smiled, satisfied as he stroked the newly formed tattoo before he called out into the communicator, “Thanks!”

The stars were all celebrating around the quasar, a more cheerful and happy tune as they sang and spun.

“No, thank you, my dear Robin,” the quasar responded happily through the singing and cheering.

Jason beamed. Dick, however, frowned, as he reached down to press a thumb against the tattoo and said, “Isn’t the mark too obvious?”

“Didn’t you say that you could hide it before? You just have to teach me!” Jason said, with a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to refuse. However, the smile on his face wouldn’t die, and he looked overjoyed.

Noticing Dick gazing at him, Jason grinned.

Huh, how had he not noticed that Jason had dimples?

“Thanks for bringing me here, Dickwing!” Jason said with a wide grin. “I can’t believe I have my own star!”

Dick couldn’t help but smile too, and said, “No problem. Take care of her well.”

“I will! I definitely will!”

As Dick looked up out the window and observed his own star, who was spinning happily in circles around his newly bonded sister, he couldn’t help but marvel at the turn of events.

Who knew that this Robin would also acquire the protection of a star?

Man, Bruce was going to freak.

|||||||||||||||||||

BRUCE. I WANTED YOU TO BE A GOOD FATHER. WHY IS IT THAT EVERY TIME I RESEARCH CANON EVENTS, YOU’RE ALWAYS FUCKING THINGS UP. YOU’RE RUINING MY WHOLESOME SPACE THEMED SERIES, BRUCE.

Why did this turn into a coming-of-age story lmaooo but I’m lowkey happy with it tho

The distinction between “you not owning me, but I’m yours” is important (kinda). It’s more of a “we belong to each other” rather than Dick and Dan’s “you’re mine” thing going on. Also, yes, the placement of the tattoos is on purpose. I switch between it/he pronouns for Dan (and the other celestial objects) bc it’s just easier and I feel like sometimes, it’s needed to show that they are not human.

Also, as per everyone’s request, there will be no shipping involved :) there will be a bit of qpr and codependency, but I love those, so it would’ve been included anyways.

Dan has completed his transformation from a black hole into a blue giant! Blue giants are very hot, big, and rather short-lived because they burn out quickly. Specifically, Dan is a giant star with a spectral class of B0Ib and a magnitude of -0.02 (which means he’s one of the bigger giant stars, his color is blue, and he is somewhat able to be seen from Earth).

Irl, it’s pretty inaccurate to real stars and black holes, bc black holes cannot collapse on itself (it’s literally a collapsed star, it cannot collapse further) and usually will only evaporate and disappear through Hawking radiation (which takes so long that all stars and star corpses will disappear before black holes will be gone). However, stars can recycle old material from dead stars to grow and that’s what happens here. Clockwork comes by every once in a while to check up on his babies and dump some nebula into the galaxy before he disappears again.

The other stars’ new identities will be revealed soon and I’ll also explore Sam and Tucker’s planet statuses as the series continues. Thank you for reading!

Next up, a certain Robin suffers 😈 (not clickbait).

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom x dc #jazz fenton #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #jason todd #dick grayson #celestial object au #dark danny #dan fenton #dan phantom #phantom family #team phantom #danny fenton #sam manson

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proxycrit · 8 months

Text

Elesa climbs to celestial tower to ring the bell. Emmet, stuck in between the distortion world, finds his way home.

Part 1/ Part 2

The conductor falls, down, down, down.

“What’s my name?” He calls to the abyss in terror (what is terror?)

He’s a singular being, right? (That’s not right. He’s one of a pair.)

The abyss gazes back. It has no answers to give, in its multitude.

Not to someone that’s so, so alone.

———

Somewhere else, one Elesa of Nimbasa rings the Celestial Tower’s Bell, over and over. Her companion, Chandelure, keeps watch.

Nothing happens.

Elesa’s stomach sinks. The reverberations of Celestial Tower’s brass bell mocks her in its echo. The vibrations of it’s distortion only makes the tears she tries to hold at bay worse.

In the blur of her failure, she sees chandelure’s flames suddenly die. Part of her panics.

The rest of her is apathetic and numb.

What’s the point? It didn’t work. Elesa closes her eyes. Tries to swallow, and fails. She’s so tired. She’s so, so tired. The deal with Azelf, the media storm she’s weathered, the constraints of her job, the almost loss of chandelure-

Emmet has been gone for three months. Ingo has been gone even longer.

They have gone where she can’t follow.

Elesa, the ghost whispers in her head. Elesa shakes her head in denial. She doesn’t want to plan right now. She wants to curl into herself, and disappear, just for a bit.

Elesa!

“I can’t do this,” she croaks. The sob in the back of her throat bubbles outwards. She wants Zebrstika. She wants Skyla. She wants her friends.

The paliphet Azelf forced her forward. It permeates her thoughts, drowning out logical thought.

(Too much willpower, and it will become an obsession, Azelf had warned her once in Ingo’s voice. And then, in Emmet’s voice: And when you fail, it willll break you. And finally, in her own voice: you will not have a choice but to move forward, with this curse.

I accept, elesa and told it back in the lake.)

I’m so tired, Elesa thinks now, two months later.

But she keeps moving forward. The bell rings again as Elesa strikes it, with all the hurt and rage and longing forced by her own hand into her soul-

-And that’s when chandelure screams, and there is a terrible rolling crack, and Elesa feels the sudden lurch in her gut as she looks up, her apathy torn into shreds as-

The sky tears open in a fractal wave.

Elesa gapes.

She can not comprehend the sudden black webbing across the sky. In the distance, sirens suddenly start wailing as people stop to perceive the impossible.

But Elesa does not care, because in that moment, the wrench in her gut is so great she almost staggers off the platform. Chandelure is by her side in an instant, her glass body a warm comfort to the sudden chill, because-

Something white is falling.

Elesa’s doesn’t know what she yells. But the tug in her chest feels like the beat of a drum, and she is helpless to the melody that calls for action.

Azelf’s blessed takes a leaping step forward, off the building. Chandelure lets out a panicked chime and the warmth of psychic cradles Elesa as she reaches out, arms outstretched, falling and flying and-

And Emmet, sparking with white electricity, reaches back.

NOTES:

AU’s Salvaging the Ship of Theseus! Everybody has a Bad Time. (Emmet and Eelektross go to Hisui and learn about the joys of the distortion world. Elesa hunts legends and makes bad deals. Ingo babysits some sneaslets.)

Backstory and explanation:

Prior this scene, Emmet was travelling Hisui with Eelektross before he falls through a mirror and becomes lost in the distortion world for a month. Elesa and Chandelure, meanwhile, refuse to give up on their remaining friend. (Ingo’s fine! He’s in Hisui right now trying to get fired so he can go searching for his memories. Eelektross is… less fine. We will Worry about That Later.)

Disclaimers: Everything’s a work in progress and subject to change!

Part 2!

#submas #submas au #salvaging the ship of theseus #(gives you a drabble)#this fucking scene…. living in my head… HARASSING ME UNTIL I WRITE AND DRAW IT.#BEGONE FOUL DEMONS #emmet #elesa #chandelure #pokemon #pokemon au #hope this haunts you as much as it haunts me #critdraws #critterbitter screams into the void #submas angst #submas fanfiction #fanfic #Spotify

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actual-changeling · 11 months

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I wrote a little something inspired by the latest chapter from the wonderful oopsie!omens AU @asleepyy is writing. Definitely check out their comic here and leave some love!

They run into each other by chance, which carries a certain irony considering Jophiel has actively been looking for him. It is a small settlement, large enough to have a sprawling market filled with voices and movement, but not the kind of place he'd expect Azazel to be. Still, if the universe wills it so, he is certainly not going to question it.

Regardless of the circumstances, the demon seems to continuously hold back an ocean of anxiety, wave after wave crashing on the rocky shores and spilling over, and today is no different. He is pressed against a stone wall at the edge of the square, the shade providing both some escape from the flickering heat and cover, keeping him hidden and inconspicuous.

Jophiel strolls through the crowd, weaving around the humans with practiced ease and picking up a ripe pomegranate from one of the stands; he pays and leaves a generous tip. Well, and he blesses the woman's sick daughter simply because he can.

By the time he has reached Azazel's spot, he has long seen him coming, wringing his hands and biting his lip bloody, which he silently takes in with a frown.

"Jophiel," he greets, his eyes wide and black as always, although at least his robe seems less tattered and more put-together than the last time they had seen each other.

"Azazel. Fruit?"

Freezing on the spot, his gaze rapidly switches between the stretched-out hand and Jophiel's face, who smiles with all the holy patience he can muster, the Metatron's words cutting thorns in the back of his throat.

"I- I've never actually..." Azazel gulps, nervous, yes, but there's an undercurrent of excitement to it, too.

Jophiel leans back against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankle and breaking the pomegranate open in an infinitesimal display of celestial power. Thin splashes of red juice wet his hands and run down his wrists, and he feels Azazel's attention heavy but not unwelcome on his skin when he lifts his arm to lick it off. A mild breeze ruffles their hair, red and white locks alike, and their fingers brush when Azazel reaches out to take his half.

"Thank you."

Pure gratitude laces his words, and they both know it is for more than the fruit. The Metatron, he decides as he watches Azazel carefully plug seed after seed out of its white shell, might be God's voice in heaven, but not here on earth. Otherwise, he would see his fragile smile and nervous ticks, hear the accidental admissions of faith and kindness, and know that there had been a mistake.

They eat in amicable silence, the noises of life and warmth flowing together into one, and while Azazel watches the crowds, Jophiel watches him.

I promise you I will fix this, he swears, and then, because the sparks of anger and dismay have yet to die and turn to ash, he speaks a prayer—a warning.

Azazel has more faith than your 'voice' does, God, and either you will take him back willingly or I will find a way to make you.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #oopsie!omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #i frankly have no idea how to tag this rip #going with my usual #and yes the nod to hades and persephone is intentional

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friedrichnapier · 3 months

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Little (and big) magical horses on Multiverse MLP Therapy session!

Silly MS sketch with AU MLP therapy gang!

I collected all characters that I know and that have a color reference, and as soon as new ones appear, I will add them to the canvas.

Princess of Gender Dysphoria - @beluvbug

Fluttershy doesn't want to be a pegasus - @ribbonzregretz

Princess of Weakness - @puppy-waves-art

The Super Duper Pony Pleaser/The Joker Card - @kandigored

Grounded - @lemoneychicken

Fallen Dashie - @zayn-darkshadow

Diamind in the Rough - @jaythebluegay

Viltriolic Mind - @generalconceptofacat

Celestial BurnOut - me

#mlp #mlp fim #mlp:fim #mlp au #princess of gender dysphoria au #princess of weakness au #fluttershy doesnt want to be a pegasus au #fallen dashie au #grounded au #the super duper pony pleaser au #the joker card au #diamond in the rough au #vitriolic mind au #celestial burnout au

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bitchinbarzal · 3 months

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Daddy’s in love with a princess | Celestial Au

“Maman!” Cece screamed as soon as she heard you close the door.

“Oui?”

“Come!” You pause for a moment, waiting for her next words “s'il vous plaît” please

You drop your bag in the hallway and make your way into her bedroom, pictures scattered across her bed

“Papa is in love with a princess!” She screams, pointing an accusing finger at him.

You frown “He is?”

“Hmmh” she pulls up a picture and shows you it “Look! They are friends when they are little”

She waves the photo to you, showing you a photo of you when you were younger, wrapped in Charles’ arms.

He smiles bashfully at you and you mumble “Princess, huh?”

Cece nods “papa said he loves her for loads of time and they have been friends since he was just like my age. Maman… you should be careful”

You chuckle “Ok sweetheart I will”

Charles starts collecting the photos “Maman has nothing to worry about Celeste. I love her the most”

“Not if there’s a princess, papa”

“Maman is a pretty princess, no?”

“Queen! Maman you are queen!”

“Why thank you love, you can be my princess. Now it’s time for sleep. Good night” you mumble, leaning down to kiss her head.

She bids her sleepy good nights before you both close her bedroom door and turn to one another

“Princess?”

“You’re my princess, always”

#celestial au #Charles and mama #charles leclerc x reader

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chuuyrr · 4 months

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𝐢. 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ‧₊ .ᐟ

series masterlist | next chapter

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ 𓆩 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ‧₊ 𓆪 fallen angel! dazai osamu , f! angel! reader . . .

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ i can fix him (no really i can)

𝐂𝐖(𝐬) ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ angels! au, religious themes: inspired by éloa (1824), a poem about a f! angel falling for a "stranger", which is also inspired by the hades and persephone myth. submission to @kentopedia's event !

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ sfw. in which he sought to reclaim his lost light, and like a moth to a flame, he found it in you, an angel of light

in the tapestry of stories you've heard high and low, dazai osamu's name profoundly echoed in the heavens, tarnished by fame. you've heard it time and time again, like a broken record from the moment you were given life from the tears of the god above.

he was whispered to be akin to the devil himself, once counted among the highest-ranking angels who succumbed to the depths of disgrace.

so profound was his descent from grace that even the mere mention of his name invoked a shiver of fear. branded as fallen, unworthy, and a symbol of shame, his very existence became a testament to the consequences of betrayal in heaven.

and you were such a curious little creature of the cursed tale, almost like an innocent lamb to a wolf, as they say. however, even as an angel from above, you contemplated the prospect of getting condemned and branded unfit. the so-cursed fallen may have made mistakes, but you still stuck to this very principle.

is not everyone deserving of grace? a second chance at forgiveness? those questions plagued your heart and soul, feeling you with a sense of trepidation that you had struggled to shake, yet you somehow longed for it. how strange.

you delved to question the morality and rationale of it, therefore you were warned not to seek what is unlawful or even question the greatest order among the heavenly creatures you all are, or you would be labeled the same as the devil, dazai osamu, the fallen angel.

not only were you a curious thing, but you were also frequently admonished, such as not flying too low on the ground or you would no longer be able to stay above, but you dismissed it as a stupid scolding.

besides, how could you not? the earth was as lovely as the sky above. every corner was a breath of life, born of a miracle, just like you.

so, you descended from heaven, disregarding the warnings of your fellow angels and higher-ups, and found yourself floating across the line that connects the sky and land, your white feathery wings flapping and gliding along the breeze of the air.

unbeknownst to you, a pair of enigmatic eyes somewhere from the shadows was.. watching you—your every move.

you were like a delicate swan, far from the coast, giving its white wing to the passing waves of the ocean sky.

their gaze was solely affixed on the purity of your smile, the way your [color] eyes shone with light, and the way your danced in the skies with your wings akin to a dove's as if it was your ballroom, and those same eyes easily recognized you as one of the angels from heaven, and you were undoubtedly a pure soul.

and this light you had, your very purity, it was tempting those eyes, like a moth to a flame.

instead of avoiding temptation, he welcomed it with open arms, gazed wistfully at you from a distance. the urge was strong. just seeing you for the first time elicited a wide range of feelings in him. he wants your luminescence.

he wanted you, and he will get what he wants.

he purposely comes into your view, making sure to catch your attention, and it doesn't take long. no one could resist him anyways. not even a pure soul like you, even if you were not one of those mortal women that loves him so much so, they were the reason why they talk in their sleep.

your gaze catches sight of a young man, who is undoubtedly beautiful, and the feel is too celestial to be real. his eyes sparkle almost like dazzling diamonds in the night like stars, and his skin is so beautiful that he could be mistaken for an angel like you.. or perhaps he was?

"my, my," his voice was sweet as honey, and rich and deep as it is he spoke to you with a smile hoping to tug on your heartstrings, "where did you come from, beautiful archangel?"

"you came down from heaven and sent me lightning, but you are so beautiful in my eyes that i don't know why. you, too, have come from above, beautiful angel, to confront me? what an honor," he continues to sweet-talk you while admiring your figure, taking in your delicate features up close, from your eyelids and cheekbones to your torso, which was cradled by a white garment that suited your purity.

the first pale glimmer of twilight bled into the horizon, your wings arching gracefully behind you as the golden light of the setting sun bathed you and the man in a warm glow. the following words he uttered next sent a shiver down your spine as he approaches you closer.

"and who you might be?" you ask softly, a small quiet giggle escaping your lips that makes his smile grow wider as he shakes his head at the sides at your innocent question.

"i am the one we love and don’t know," he says, his voice wrapping around you like a silken thread, his eyes gleaming with a hidden fire, "on man, i have founded my empire of flame, in the desires of the heart, in the dreams of the soul, in the bonds of bodies, mysterious attractions, in the treasures of the blood, in the looks of the eyes."

you feel your wings twitch, your controlled elegance slipping for a minute. you clenched your hands into closed fists, attempting to steady yourself against the draw of his words as he moved closer, and closer, his presence entrancing you.

"i make wives speak in their dreams, learn happy lies. i give them nights which console days.. so you can say, i am the secret king of secret loves, dear angel," his gaze bore into yours, unyielding and magnetic, piercing your very soul as a light blush colored your cheeks, and you lowered your gaze, "i am no man with ill intentions, i am but a comforter.."

"i give to the earth the pleasure of the evenings and the goods of the mystery," his voice softened, almost tender as he saw the expression on your face.

the sun starts to set, and as darkness fell over the soil you walked on, you felt the shadows come alive around you, and when the final rays of sunlight vanished, your surroundings changed.

countless spirits appeared from the growing shadows of the trees. the night seemed to vibrate with an unusual energy, scented dew began to drop on the orange trees, lilac, and thyme, and he held his arms wide to encompass the entire scenery before you.

you stared in a daze as a nightingale rose towards the now-starry sky, its song heralding the young man's beloved hour. every creature and flower appeared to come alive in response to his presence. your breath caught as voices whispered among the trees, their words melting into the night's music, and it filled the air, with trees and bushes adding to the midnight chorus.

you couldn't help but tremble slightly at the change of surroundings, the aura now present in the air in his midst. your wings folding tightly behind your back as you look up at him.

he stepped closer once more over to your frame, his dark enigmatic yet sharp eyes never leaving your face as he speaks in a soothing whisper that caressed your very soul.

"do not fret me. i understand it completely, it is natural to be drawn to the unknown, to the mysteries that lie beyond the daylight's reach. you are not alone in this curiosity. many before you have felt this same pull, this same longing." he coos in a coaxing, gentle tone.

"you've always been a curious little thing, hmm? well, it's the same for me, dear," he chuckles softly, comforting you, as if he knows you, which he does. he is quite familiar with you.

"i, too, am curious. i, too, question what is unlawful or even ponder about the greatest order among the heavenly creatures like you. perhaps that way, we too, share a similar nature in that sense?" he says, causing you to shiver, the warmth and blush on your cheeks deepening as he reaches out to cup your face in his palm.

he leans in closer, his face hovering near yours, not quite touching but close enough for you to feel his warmth, his hot breath, trickling your skin, "angels like you, like us, have always been meant for purity, for light."

"wait, what are you saying?" you sputter out softly in disbelief. his name was oddly similiar, familiar, as he takes his other hand, now fully cupping your face so delicately in his palms, holding you as if he has the world in his own very hands.

"what i'm saying is that even the purest light casts a shadow," he gently squeezes your face, his eyes drawing down to your innocent yet curious, baffled gaze, and plump lips, "it is what the higher angels above us are so afraid of, hence they brand the curious unfit and unworthy of grace. they deny the parts of themselves that are curious, that yearn for something more, but it is not a sin to feel, [name]. in fact, it is what makes existence so beautifully complex."

"and that's why they labeled the fallen angel before as such?" you whisper softly, your gaze faltering.

"you are strong, [name], and oh so loving, i can see it clear as the day," he says softly, his voice like velvet, adding more fire to the flame of your inner conflict, "but even the strongest hearts can be softened. i do not seek to destroy you, or lead you astray, but to show you the beauty that lies in the shadows, the wonders that the night holds, the very same one that you have heard of dared to step upon of."

he presses his forehead against your own before he leans into your ear, whispering like the snake that tempted eve to take the forbidden fruit, "i offer a reprieve, a moment of solace. take my hand, dear, and step into the night and discover its secrets. i know you wish to seek out the same thing that condemned your fellow angel."

with quivering palms, you gently raised your gaze to meet his. your heart pounded in your chest, echoing the internal conflict you were fighting.

his dark eyes were gentle and welcoming, promising understanding and comfort, reminiscent of the fallen angel you've heard of over and over back in heaven.

"how do you know all of this? just, who are you?" you stammer out softly. your resolve was weakeneing, and for a brief moment, you were on the verge of giving in, letting go of your fears and entering the unknown, the same unknown into which the previous fallen angel had descended from grace to.

"i go by many names, but call me shuji.. at least for now," he chuckles, seeing the conflict in your eyes, reminding him of the power of his words, the allure of his presence, and he knew that, eventually, even the strongest of hearts, the purest of pure, could be coaxed into the embrace of the night.

you furrow your brows, and you can't help but feel such tension as your wings twitched. you wanted to resist. this seems all too much, all for someone you just met. it was never too late to draw yourself from the temptation that 'shuji' presents, but he was right. you have always been a curious little thing. you longed to know. you longed the offer.

"i don't know, i don't think.." you say softly, fidgeting your fingers as you look down at your feet. the night air hung heavy with the darkness of the starry sky pressing in with a strange tangible weight.

"aww, it's alright. you don't have to decide anything right now, sweetheart," he murmurs, his tone of voice a soothing balm to your conflicted emotions, "it's natural to feel hesitant to delve deep into the unknown.. i should know."

you look up at him, your eyes meeting his for a brief second before pulling away, the intensity of his gaze too much to take. he reaches a hand, not to touch, but to give, a sign of silent understanding of your turmoil.

"would you like some company instead?" he asks gently, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace, "you don't have to agree to anything beyond that. how about it?"

such a strange man, but persistent. your fingers halting their anxious dance at the prospect of companionship. however, a part of you remains apprehensive, aware of the perils of his charm and the tempting draw of his words.

seeing your hesitancy, 'shuji' softens his gaze even more, his face one of genuine concern. "it's just for now."

and he promises you with a smile that masks a hidden intention, "no commitments, no decisions. just two souls sharing a moment in the quiet of the night. we can talk, or sit in silence, whatever brings you peace, sweetheart."

a part of you yearns for the peace his presence appears to offer, the comfort of another's company in the middle of your turmoil. you lift your gaze to meet his again, looking for any hint of deception, any trace of the manipulative charm you fear.

but all you see is patience, an invitation without pressure, a promise of understanding with no strings attached. you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of your uncertainty lift just a little.

"okay, but just for a short while.." you say quietly, barely audible.

thus, his smile widens at your acceptance, and for a brief moment, his little facade almost crumbles at the thought of effectively persuading you. just a little more, he thinks to himself. it was only a matter of time before he received what he desired from you.

after all, he was already drawn to you.

he extends his hand to you. you stare at his hand for a moment before placing your hand in his, sensing the warmth of his touch. you stroll in silence, the route lit by the faint glow of starlight and the distant sounds of night birds.

when you follow him, the land surrounding slowly vanishes that hums with a distinct eerie force. he pauses and returns your gaze with a comforting smile, "trust me," he adds quietly, his eyes showing a mix of eagerness and affection.

taking a deep breath, you nod and allow him to lead you, and before you know it, the world swirls around you, but when the swirling light fades, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of a peaceful, terrestrial scene.

the air is crisp and fresh, with a subtle aroma of budding flowers and earthy tones from a neighboring forest. the sky above is a deep, velvety blue, speckled with stars that appear close enough to touch, and a leisurely river flows through the landscape, its surface like a plethora of small diamonds in the moonlight.

he walks you to a grassy knoll that overlooks the river. the ground beneath your feet is soft and welcoming, making it the ideal place to relax and enjoy the scenery.

he sits down and motions for you to join him. as you lower yourself to the ground, a sense of calm comes over you.

"this place," he says, "is a hidden gem on earth. far from the heavens, yet it holds its own kind of magic.”

you gaze around, taking in the soft sway of the trees, the rhythmic murmur of the river, and the peaceful symphony of the night creatures. it's a spot that feels both unspoiled and ageless, a haven where the stresses of the world appear to fade away.

you close your eyes and let the sounds of nature wash over you. the subtle rustle of leaves, the sweet crooning of faraway night birds, and the flow of the river all combine to form a lovely lullaby, and you sense his presence beside you as a steady, comforting anchor.

after a while, you open your eyes to look at him. "this place is beautiful. every bit of this just reminds me of how lovely the earth may be, just as it is above."

he grins at your naive yet honest comments as you continue to speak, "i can't help but wonder, your majesty," you say now, giggling now as you are more relaxed, as you address him as such since he names himself the king of secret loves.

"wonder about what? what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours?" he muses you.

"you seem to know a lot of things. you even know about fallen angels.." you mutter quietly now, recalling his words earlier, his offer to you, "but i suppose it's only natural. you do call yourself a king of secret loves, and a king does know a lot, for a king carries both a crown and a burden after all."

you fiddle with the hem of the white dress hugging your body as you look at him, asking him the very same thing you question in regards to the gods and celestials above, "but do tell me, shuji. is not everyone deserving of grace? a second chance at forgiveness?"

'shuji's' gaze darkens for a brief moment as he contemplates your thoughts. he shifts slightly, turning to face you more directly, his stare incisive but compassionate. he bites his lip for a brief moment before he speaks his truth.

he says slowly, as if weighing his words carefully, "forgiveness, it is a complex thing. it's not just something that can be given or taken; it has to be earned, understood, and sometimes even fought for."

he pauses, gazing up at the starlit, night sky, as if he was looking for answers in the distant lights just like you, "i have seen those who have fallen, who have made mistakes, and who have sought redemption.. so if you ask me, my dear, the path to forgiveness is not always certain."

your eyes widen at his words, every word hitting a deep part of your heart. you lean in closer to him, your interest peaked as you can't help but question him," do you speak from experience? have you ever known someone who has walked that path?"

a shadow covers his face, momentarily yet noticeable. he returns his smile to you, albeit with a trace of melancholy, "hmm, perhaps you can say that? hah, we all have secrets and burdens to bear.."

"one thing is certain though," he says, reaching out to you once more, his fingers brushing against yours, "we are all searching for our own paths to grace. after all, we all long for grace. do we not?"

"that's true," you nod slowly at his words, finding solace in them.

however, his fingers tighten around yours, his voice tinged with longingness, "but sometimes, it is not all we long for. sometimes, we all long for something else.."

your eyes widen once more as you lock eyes with him, seeing an intensity of emotions in them, a depth you've never seen before in those brown eyes of his.

he pulls you closer to him, his touch firm yet gentle as if he was handling such a delicate flower, afraid to let it go or wither away. your body presses against his, and he feels warm.

"stay the night with me, pretty archangel," he whispers to you in such a way that sends a shiver down your spine, "just for tonight."

you feel your heart race, the closeness of his body against yours was making you acutely aware of every sensation. the warmth of his hand and breath mingling with the night air, and the longing in his eyes, a silent plea that tugs something within you.

"but, why?" you ask softly, blinking in confusion.

"because i long for you, dear," there it was again, the seduction in his voice, the honeyed tone he used on you before when he made you an offer, and this time it was filled with naked honesty.

you experience a plethora of emotions within you, including dread, exhilaration, and.. a strange yet evident attraction to him, but you hesitate nonetheless at this second, other offer he asks of you.

he reaches up, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he reassures you, luring you in secret, "come on, sweetheart. just for tonight. i won't keep you for too long.."

there was a deep yearning in his eyes that mirrors your own, and this time you were unable to turn away from the temptation this offer unlike earlier. slowly, you nod your head, allowing yourself to lean into the moment, into him.

"okay, just for tonight.." you mutter softly, finally giving in.

he pulls you in closer, almost wrapping his arm over you, almost too possessively, and the next thing you know, he's guiding you somewhere more private, away from the outside world.

he walks you to a much darker, almost secluded path. it was as if the scenery was shifting again into something else again. the stars above appear to dim, their light absorbed by the dense canopy of trees.

the air becomes cooler, and a sense of gloom permeates the night's peacefulness. eventually, you come across a concealed cabin, its shadowy silhouette just apparent in the darkness.

he opens the door for you, his movements deliberate and controlled, and ushers you inside, almost desperately.

the room is dimly illuminated, with the flickering fire creating long, dancing shadows on the walls. he leads you to a massive, imposing bed, with dark sheets and heavy blankets that nearly swallow you whole. you sit down, feeling the smooth, enveloping fabric under you, as 'shuji' stands nearby, his presence looming and intense.

you look around, the shadows appearing to close in around you. there's an inescapable intimacy here, a refuge from the world but also a trap from which there's no way out.

and he looks at you with triumphant eyes, as if he has finally found what he has been looking for.

he reaches out, his grip solid, and grabs your hand in his, "you have no idea just how glad i am to have you here."

his voice was possessive as he looks at you with the same longing from earlier, "having you right where i want you... it's what i long for."

you look at him with a mix of fear and excitement in your eyes. the moment has an electric intensity to it, as if it were a dream on the verge of becoming a nightmare.

the look in his intensifies as he leans into you, his warm breath up against your skin. without warning, he suddenly pulls you down onto the bed with him in one swift moment that you barely had time to react as your wings twitch and flap in surprise behind you.

he grips you tightly with the same possessiveness as you feel his body press against yours, and this time the look in his eyes was almost predatory. he stares down your delicate face, from your [color] eyes to your form, just as he had when he first lay eyes on you, this time relishing the moment even more because he was so close to you.

his fingers trace goosebumps on your arm as the air between you and him now cackles with an unspoken tension, with an unbearable anticipation, especially for him.

and so, with a sudden decisive movement, he tilts your chin up to him and he presses his lips against yours, and it was a fierce and possessive kiss that leaves you breathless, yet breathlessly wanting more.

the outside world fades away as he claims your lips, leaving you with the mere sensation of his lips and body pressing against yours. he tightens his grip around you as you let out a soft whine, but you do not let go or even struggle against him at all.

instead, you find your fingers entangling themselves in his messy locks of brown hair as he kisses you with such need, as if he's imprinting himself on you.

you feel the roughness of his breath and the urgency in his touch as his arms envelop you like promise and a warning, and it was overwhelming your senses.

after a brief moment, he pulls away from your lips, ragged gasps for air escaping his breath, but he doesn't let go. he's never letting you go. his hold on you was firm as ever and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, taking dark pleasure in having you like this, at this very moment, completely and utterly his.

"stay with me, alright? let me have you, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips.

you slowly nod your head, unable to find your voice as you lose yourself in his intense gaze and the sensation of his kiss, and as he leans in to capture your lips in another kiss, you know that tonight, you're his.

and then, with a dark glint in his eyes, he suddenly says, "call me osamu."

the name sends a shock through you, causing you to pale. osamu. the same name as the fallen angel you had been warned about, dazai osamu. your heart pounds against your chest at the realization, hitting you like a bolt of lightning, and finally, you see it. the flicker in his eyes, behind the tender facade he had been holding.

"osamu?" your voice trembles at the utter of his name.

he smiles a knowing smile towards you, "yes, osamu. call me osamu."

the unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air. the man holding you was no ordinary being. he was no king. he was no mere mortal. this man, he used to be an angel of the highest grade. he's the fallen angel you heard of, the one who had been cast out of heaven, and now he was the one who craves to touch you.

osamu brushes his fingers against your cheek in a gentle touch, "i told you earlier, didn’t i? you shouldn't be afraid. i'm not even here to hurt you at all, my beautiful archangel."

your mind and heart became in conflict with one another, but your body responds to his presence, the same way this fallen angel was drawn to your embrace. and besides, didn’t you think so yourself? everybody is worthy of love and grace. even if it was dazai osamu..

so, this was alright. it should be.

"then, what do you want from me?" you ask softly.

"i just want to be with you." he whispers before kissing you again, and his name echoes in your mind, sweeping you with a dark allure.

"i long for you, [name]."

𝐀.𝐍. ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ it's been a long while since i've written anything, so consider this as my comeback stage after being beaten up by my major, so i'm glad to have finally published the first chapter of my latest series, wahoo <3 <3

𝐏.𝐒. ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ osamu disguising himself as shuji was on purpose. it's a reference to the real dazai osamu's name, shuji tsushima. i also took some lines from the inspo/reference of this fic from the poem of eloa, from the second song/stanza. the next part of his chapter is just gonna be some smut, so feel free to skip it. okay? okay !

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ @little-miss-chaoss @anonymousewrites @chaiifluuf @sosograndii @anqelically @blueberrisdove @cheriiyaya @avocate-assia-dazai @yushiba-tsukyoh @cupidszvlvr @snowsilver2000 @cvidy @dummytwo @kissesmellow21 @angelofdarkness2 @muichirolover23 @milky-aeons @pompompurin1028 @pe4rl-diver @dzaisamou @iloveemiatas @kentopedia @aureatchi @its-vante @haesify @fyorina @atlasnessie

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bungo stray dogs x y/n #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #dazai x fem reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd imagines #bsd fanfic #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai

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vectorisheree · 4 months

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"So. Apparently the fish can revive themselves. That's... something, alright.. " - Dr. Newton, co-head of the @celestial-waves-project

Eclipse is is considered to be quite large by the standards of other eclipse merr.

Eclipse was killed by Moon and Solar. The two of them blew up his nest while he was resting from a fight with Sun. Since then, he has been spotted miraculously alive. Both The Creator and Dr. Newton deny their involvement in Eclipse's revival

He is in immense pain 24/7 due to both him suffering the effects of getting blown up as well as the Newton Star's affect on his body, slowly eating away at his body and replacing it with anti mater created whenever the Star's power is harnessed, which is all the time because Eclipse would die without it

Eclipse had his star fragment, the star shaped objects suspended in orbs that floats between the tail fins of the merr that acts as their main source of energy, destroyed when he was blown up and now relies on the Newton Star to survive.

Due to the Newton star taking a role similar to a star fragment, it has currently taken the appearance of one but it is able to take on many shapes depending on the will of its owner

Eclipse dislikes how brightly coloured he is as it makes him an easy target, the sparkles from whatever the Newton Star's doing is not helping with that

He has 4 arms due to the Newton Star mutating his body but is able to retract them using a sort of magic

#graphic design is my passion #I really dug myself a hole when I didn't think Sun's ref through hdksjsjsksmskakskal #celestial waves au #tsams #the sun and moon show #eclipse sams #sams eclipse #sun and moon show eclipse #the sun and moon show eclipse #tsams eclipse #eclipse tsams #vecart #mer eclipse #dca mer au #dca au #dca fanart #dca eclipse #sams #tsams au

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celestial-waves-project · 4 months

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The Newton Star

[A transcript taken from a private interview or meeting of sorts. Dr. Newton is being interviewed about the Newton Star]

"I... I'm not quite sure what it is. My apologies."

[An obvious cut in audio can be observed, likely obscuring the interviewer's voice]

"Look. It's some sort of star fragment, much more powerful than any we've created. Moon is far more intelligent then we had prevously hoped for. How does a fish create something that took us years in the the span of a few weeks!?"

[Dr. Newton pauses, the clinking of a cup being lifted and set back on a table and be heard]

"It's a serious concern and The Creator does not give a damn. I love him and all but God is he thick headed. And- and you know what's crazy about that star? It can fucking transform, shapeshift, whatever. You can't find that thing if it doesn't want you to! We've tried collecting it for research but it just- disappears! Vanishes! Just- fucking- in front of our very eyes? I don't fucking-"

[Dr. Newton is interrupted by his interviewer and a long period of silence follows]

"...Yeah, right. Sorry- I- It's been a lot. I just... its weird, you know? And The Creator doesn't even take me seriously, he said, 'well if you care so much about it, let's name it after you, let's call it the Newton star.' Excuse me? What the actual fuck is that response?"

#Trouble in paradise or whatever #I would also like to say that both The Creator and Dr. Newton are awful people #Just that The Creator is more obviously an ass. Also that Dr. Newton and the trashcan man are seperate entities #Celestial Waves Project #Celestial Waves au #Dr. Newton #The Creator #TrashCan Man #<---- he's the interviewer btw hkdkdkslsk #tsams au

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3rachasdomesticbanana · 5 months

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Welcome Home | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: While out on a leisurely hike you find yourself drawn away from the path to a beautiful field smack dab in the middle of the forest. It's incredible beautiful is something out of a fairytale and you soon find out why when you're ripped away from where you stood.

•Pairings: fairy Han Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: au fairy realm, fluff, smut, mentions of past lives and soulmates, magic, unprotected sex

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

You're out hiking on a warm spring day, feeling the sun on your skin and the breeze in your hair. The woods around you whisper with life as birds chirp their cheerful songs and small animals skitter away excitedly. As you wander deeper into the forest, you stumble upon a clearing that takes your breath away. The field is a kaleidoscope of colors, with vibrant purple, teal, and blue flowers swaying gently in the breeze. You can't resist the urge to explore further, and before you know it, you're standing in the middle of the field. What you don't realize is that you're surrounded by a ring of white mushrooms with shimmering pearlescent specks until it's too late. You've heard the tales of fairy rings, how you should never disturb them since they're said to be the home of The Fae, but you've never truly believed in the folklore. That is until a sudden gust of wind, not from the trees, but from within the ring of mushrooms, envelops you.

Panic sets in and when you go to step out of the ring, the wind grows stronger, pulling everything around you into a whirlwind. Your hair is flying everywhere, and your backpack gets ripped from your shoulders, disappearing up into the tunnel of air. The circle around you starts to glow with a soft white light, until it's blinding, forcing you to shut your eyes. When the wind finally stops, you cautiously open your eyes only to find yourself at the edge of a magnificent forest, beside a towering waterfall that glistens in the sunlight. It's like something out of a fantasy. Everything around you seems to glow with a soft, celestial light. You can't help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery that surrounds you, wondering just where the hell you are and how you'll get back home.

Tentatively, you poke your foot out of the fairy ring and a sense of relief fills you when nothing happens. The world around you is breathtaking, filled with vibrant colors and ethereal beauty. When you step completely out of the ring, your eyes catch sight of a man emerging from the waterfall. It parts effortlessly for him, like a curtain being drawn aside, leaving him completely dry. His brown hair, slightly past his ears, frames his face in soft loose curls, blowing in the breeze. His chest and abs subtly glisten with the same shimmer as the mushrooms down to his slender waist, blending seamlessly under the waistband of his loose white pants that flow like water as he walks towards you.

You feel a gentle tug in your chest, urging you to move closer to him. It's like your feet have a mind of their own, pulling you towards the mysterious figure. Your whole body relaxes, and your mind clears as if all your worries have vanished into thin air. When he stops in front of you, you notice the delicate points of his ears peeking out from beneath the waves of his hair. And when he speaks, his voice is like a melody, soothing and captivating.

"Hello y/n, I'm Jisung," he says with a smile that lights up the entire forest. "I've been waiting for you. I knew the moment you stepped into that field that you’d finally find your way back to me this time.”

You're taken aback by his beauty and the sense of familiarity, as if you actually know him. He certainly knows who you are though but that doesn't seem to freak you out. Jisung reaches out to you placing a gentle touch on your cheek and you let him. His touch makes you shiver and it sends waves of electricity through your body down to your core, feeling a rush of pleasure that leaves you spellbound. You manage to find your voice, though it sounds a lot softer than you mean to.

"Do I know you?" you ask, "Have you cast some kind of spell on me?” He gives a shake of his head with a small smile and quiet chuckle making your heart stutter inside your chest.

“No spells sweetie, just the bond between soulmates," he reassures you.

You want to interrupt him, call him crazy, but is he the crazy one or are you? Everything around you seems like a scene from a dream. You half expect to jolt awake back in bed at any moment now. Or could you be lying unconscious somewhere after hitting your head on a low hanging branch in the forest? Maybe you got stung by something and an allergic reaction triggered this bizarre hallucination. But if any of that were true, then why does his touch feel so vividly real?

“Y/n, in every life before this one, you've been my love. In each of those lives, you're always drawn to lush green fields but for a long time you've never made it back to me. Until now.” His smile is warm as he gently takes your hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles over your knuckles. “Oh my baby, I've missed you throughout these long centuries. It's been hell having part of my heart missing but you're here with me now and I finally feel complete.”

As his words sink in, he inches closer to you, and you feel oddly calm. Just as his lips are about to touch yours, you hesitate and draw back a bit. His deep, warm eyes meet yours, and a playful pout forms on his lips, tugging at your heartstrings.

"I'm sorry," you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't remember any of this. If all of this is real, I have no memory of any of it." You apologize, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I understand, beautiful. It's a bit unreal, isn't it? You probably don't even remember this place was once an absolute favorite of yours." Jisung tells you, his voice full of affection.

You look around, taking in everything but feel nothing other than the initial wonder at its beauty when you first opened your eyes. You would remember a place that looks this celestial. Jisung nods slowly in understanding as if he can read your mind, looking at you like you are truly his whole world. He looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on and you find that ridiculous considering where you both stand.

"If we kiss, some of your memories will come back. Not all unfortunately, but hopefully the ones that will remind you of me and what we mean to each other." he explains.

He sounds so sincere, it's hard not to trust him. He tells you that it'll just be a featherlight peck and nothing more. There's no harm in a simple kiss right? He's cute, so if he's lying maybe this could be some sort of meet cute like in a movie an you two would laugh about it years later. You inhale deeply and nod giving him the okay to kiss you.

Closing your eyes, you sense Jisung getting closer until you feel his face just inches away from yours. He smells amazing, like fresh flowers, coffee, and sunshine. When he kisses you it's gentle, his lips barely touching yours. You start to feel light-headed, and clear images start to form behind your lids, like watching a movie.

You catch Jisung's eyes, his grin stretching wide as he gently lifts your hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss to the back. With a graceful spin, he twirls you around and your laughter rings out. Behind you, a shimmering light dances, casting hues of iridescence. As the spinning slows, the same radiant colors swirl behind him, framing his form with beautiful radiance. His wings, delicate and transparent like glass, reflect the mesmerizing glow of the fairy realm behind him. The fairy realm, your home, unfolds slowly with sparkling streams winding through lush forests and delicate flowers bloom. Each breath of the wind feels charged with magic. He whispers your name, his voice tender and promises, "Always in this life and the life after, I will love you, I will find you my baby." His words fill the air, swirling around you like fireflies."

You gasp, eyes fluttering open, and see Jisung's warm eyes on you. It feels like you've been lost in a dream for ages, but his voice brings you back to the now. Around you everything feels different somehow. The air is alive with a soft hum of magic that you didn't notice until now and the colorful flowers seem brighter as they blow in a breeze that smells like vanilla and fresh rain.

"Do you see now, y/n?" he asks gently.

Blinking away the remnants of the vision, you nod, feeling your heart swell like a balloon full of helium threatening to float out of your chest, "I see." You whisper, feeling the overwhelming love he has for you and the love you had for him in your past life. You apologize for forgetting, but he reassures you, pulling you into his arms.

“It's understandable, baby. Just… let me hold you.”

You melt into his warm embrace and it feels like home. It's an overwhelming and strange feeling. Finding out that not only do fairies actually exist but that you yourself were one and in love with one in every past life you've had. You feel coolness wrap around you along with the heat of his arms. He's got you wrapped up in his wings and they feel like silk. Just as smooth and fluid. The coolness keeps the heat that suddenly creeps over your entire body at bay. Your body feels tingly all over like all of your limbs have fallen asleep. Every inch of you feels like a single touch will send you tumbling into ecstasy. You're suddenly aroused, more than you've ever been in your life and it's because of the closeness of your body to Jisung's. You want him so bad it feels unbearable, like you'll go insane. You know he can feel your heartbeat.

“Tell me baby.” Jisung whispers holding you tighter, feeling his cock stir under his loose pants.

“I need you Jisung.” You whisper shyly and you feel his body shake when he chuckles.

“I know, my love. I remember the way your heart would flutter faster than your wings ever could when you were needy for my cock.” He murmurs, his hand caressing your back through the simple white fabric of your shirt, reminiscing about the days when your wings matched his.

"Help me remember, please?" you plead, meeting his gaze with eager eyes.

“I thought you'd never ask my love.” He replies before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. A surge of electricity shoots through you, forcing a throaty moan from you as you press against him, feeling the growing hardness in his pants stiffen even more.

He guides you deeper into the shadows of the forest, shedding your clothes as you go. Whenever you stumble over feet, his wings swoop in to steady you, making sure your feet stay planted on the ground. Laying you down onto the plush grass, he kisses you with a fervor that speaks volumes of how much he's missed you, missed your touch. His lips roam from yours to trace the curve of your jaw, down to the hollow of your throat and over the soft mounds of your breasts. Every inch of your skin is worshiped with a devotion that makes you feel hotter than the sun. Each kiss floods your mind with memories, fleeting but the feelings linger, strengthening the bond between you. With every caress, Jisung feels more familiar, and your desire for him intensifies, driving you to crave the feel of your fairy soulmate’s cock.

"Sungie?" You gasp as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He pauses, stunned by a nickname he hasn't heard in centuries, with a surge of affection flooding his heart. It only makes him want you more and without any further hesitation, he plunges into you with a powerful thrust. He buries himself deep inside you in a one single, intense motion and your cries echo throughout the forest, seemingly rustling the leaves overhead.

“Fuck, baby. It's been too long. Far, far too long without you. Forgive me if this is too quick but I can't hold back. Not after hearing my name on your lips like that.” With a swift motion, he pulls out and plunges back in, deep and fast, into your pussy.

“Quick or slow it does not matter when it's you my heart.” You whisper, your voice hitching with each moan.

“There she is. Mm! There's my beautiful fae. Your pussy feels exactly the way I remembered y/n. So wet, so soft.” He grunts, pushing into you deeper and your body arches into the lush grass beneath you. "You are pure fucking magic."

He lets out a soft curse, his movements quickening. The rush of memories flooding back to you turns him on, and he's desperate for more. He needs you to remember more, remember everything. Sunlight filters through his wings, casting rainbows across the enchanting landscape, like light through a crystal. The colors playfully dance on tree trunks, leaves, and flowers, enhancing the beauty around you. The symphony of your bodies coming together, accompanied by your soft moans and the gentle rush of the waterfall, is sweet music to your ears. With your walls snug around his cock Jisung can feel his orgasm quickly building. Countless centuries apart and he's going to blow too quick. He can't have that, not this quick any way. In an attempt to ease the sensation he feels growing in his balls, he wraps you in his wings and arms, rolling both of you over so that now you're on top, straddling him.

“Ride me baby. Just like that. Oh yeah, you remember don't you?“ He says through gritted teeth, moaning when you start to roll your hips grinding your pussy on him.

As you ride him, his cock feels like it's made entirely of magic itself, gliding in and out of you, making you feel weightless, like you're flying. It's like with every movement of your hips you're filled with a sense of purpose you've never known with anyone else. Jisung's breath hitches, his hungry eyes on your breast. Hypnotizing him with each bounce. You wield your own kind of magic casting a spell over Jisung, bringing him closer and closer to his peak. You don't even feel tired, you feel like you could ride him until the sun sets or longer. You can sense his pleasure building, his breath growing ragged as you grind your pussy on him faster. It's intoxicating, the way he responds to you, the way he loses himself in the moment. He won't be able to hold back much longer. His hands roam your body, tracing every curve as if he's rediscovering you all over again.

"You've missed this, haven't you?" you tease, feeling the heat inside of you bubbling.

He lets out a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to hold back, savoring the moment. "More than you can imagine," he murmurs, his voice husky with need.

He has missed this, the beautiful sight of you bouncing on his dick and the way he fits perfectly inside you. Because you were made for him and he was made for you.

With a playful smirk, you lean in closer, feeling the magic and heat radiating between your bodies. "Then let's make up for lost time, baby." you whisper, your lips brushing against his pointed ear, without even realizing that yours are becoming just as sharp. You nibble his ear lobe and his hips instinctively buck up into you with a hiss as he sucks in air through his teeth.

“Y/n, fuck, M’ gonna fill you. Gonna cum so hard. Baby! Shit, I'm cumming baby. Ah!” He grunts, thrusting up into you, his hips coming up off the ground.

You feel his seed hot inside you and your own orgasm is right there beginning to unravel. Suddenly, a cool sensation caresses your back, offering relief to your overheated skin. The skin starts to tingle and the sensation intensifies each time you come crashing down onto Jisung's cock. The feeling, it heightens your pleasure until you're cumming hard, moaning his name loud and speaking a language you had no idea you even knew. He grunts when your walls clench around him sucking him deeper into you. A burst of wind shoots out from behind you, cutting through the forest, making you shiver. You sense them before you see them—your wings. They unfold, spreading wide beside you, gently flapping like a lazy butterfly as Jisung's cock throbs inside you.

“Beautiful just like I remembered.” He says softly staring at you, sitting up and leaning in to kiss you. He gently presses his wings against yours, creating a sensation that you can only describe as blissful. You've never felt so much love in your heart until now.

"I missed you, Jisung," you whisper against his lips, your breath mingling with his. "I tried so hard to find you, but with each passing life, the memories slipped away until I remembered nothing.”

He shakes his head and rests his forehead against yours, "All that matters is that you're here now," he replies, his tone soft and reassuring. "I always knew you'd come back to me.”

He kisses you and lays you back down on the grass, smiling as you instinctively fold your wings and gently pulls out of you. You both lie tangled in each other's arms under the leafy green canopy of the towering trees, feeling a sense of peace washing over you now that you finally remember everything.

With a gentle touch, Jisung raises your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles. His voice, soft against your skin, as he breathes,

"Welcome home, love.”

#han jisung #han jisung smut #skz smut #han jisung x you #stray kids smut #han jisung drabbles #han smut #han x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung fanfic #han jisung fanfiction #han jisung hard hours #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung oneshot #han jisung x reader #han jisung au #han jisung fic #han jisung x y/n

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poppitron360 · 28 days

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Guys… it’s finally here.

After almost three months of working on it, my largest fic ever is finally finished- currently clocking in at around 15k words!!

This is a collection of short stories about “Domestic life with Leo and Jason” and the beautiful things that come out of that- I give this as my gift to the Valgrace community as a reminder that happy endings can happen, just sometimes we have to create them ourselves.

CW: Swearing, brief talk of homophobia, a little bit of angst sprinkled in for good measure.

Word count: 15,580!!

“Violets and Marigolds”

Married Valgrace AU

Jason sat on the warehouse roof, watching the sun rise. His legs dangled off the side. He felt something brush gently against his ankle, and he saw the sole of Leo’s scuffed-up brown Doc Marten work-boot knock a little against his sneaker in the soft swing of Leo’s legs. The pale golden light of dawn glinted on the windows below them. Jason looked up and smiled at Leo.

Sure, insomnia’s a bitch. But Jason didn’t care when the man he loved was sitting next to him and smiling. He knew that he could get through the sleepless nights and he knew that dawn will always come after, no matter what. Whatever happens, the sun will rise. And Leo would be next to him.

They would always have each other.

Jason interlaced his fingers with Leo’s. It was a new day. He didn’t know what it would bring. But he knew he could count on seeing Leo’s face at the end of it, and the start of the next one.

Jason sat down in front of the interviewer.

“Jason Valdez.”

“That’s my name.”

She squinted at the paper and then studied him, “You don’t look like someone whose last name would be something like Valdez.”

Jason stifled a grumble. He hated when people pointed that out. Why couldn’t they keep their nose out of it?

“…Not that it’s any of your business,” Jason said, as calmly and respectfully as he could, “But I took my husband’s last name when I got married.” To emphasise his point, he casually put his hands on the desk in front of him so that his wedding ring was in full view. It was made of a special alloy of both imperial gold and celestial bronze, and carved with intricate designs. Jason loved to show it off.

The interviewer looked at Jason over the top of her thick-framed glasses, “Why?”

“Well…” Jason really didn’t like this woman, but he had to be professional. He decided blunt honesty was the best tactic to shut her up, “I didn’t have the best relationship with my mother. And I’d rather her name wasn’t a part of my identity. My husband, though, I love very much, and I want a piece of him to be with me. Now this job-“

“So, your husband…” The interviewer continued, “Is he any relation to Leo Valdez, the Greek demigod who launched a missile attack on New Rome?”

“You mean the Greek demigod that sacrificed his life to stop Gaea and save the world? Yes, that’s him,” Jason was getting properly annoyed. This was an interview for a job, not a dating profile. She didn’t need to know what went on in his private life.

“But he did launch the attack?”

“He. Was. Possessed.” Jason growled, “By an eidolon. Working for Gaea. He was not in control of his actions. Plus, that was fourteen years ago. Plus, some of Camp Jupiter’s top Praetors themselves saw to it that he was pardoned. His name is cleared, meaning my name is cleared. Now, can we talk about my credentials?”

“I didn’t get the job!” Jason said, dropping his bag by the door and throwing himself onto the couch.

“Oh no!” Leo said, looking up from where he was sitting, cross-legged on the carpet, a collection of sketches and blueprints spread out in front of him.

Jason waved his hand, dismissively, “It’s fine. I didn’t want it anyway. The interviewer gave me a bad vibe.” Jason didn’t mention that Leo’s name had come up in the interview- or that that was the reason why he hadn’t landed the job. It wasn’t Leo’s fault. They knew that living in New Rome might cause some problems, but it was the only decent place to find demigod work, and it wasn’t like Jason was gonna stop being married to Leo.

“How was your day?”

Leo turned back to the mess before him, and started shuffling papers around. “I got a few new commissions in,” He said, “A design for a carseat that massages you. Washing machines with legs. That kinda thing,” He turned back around, “Plus your standard swords, shields, the odd axe. Nothing new there. I’ll head down to the warehouse tomorrow and start working on those.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, amorsito.”

“I’ve had to take on a few extra stuff while you’ve been looking at jobs,” Leo said, “I’m the breadwinner in this household. We gotta pay bills somehow.”

As he talked, he began to fiddle with his hearing aid (He’d needed them ever since the explosion). Jason knew that he only did that when he was really agitated. He switched to ASL.

“Don’t play with that,” Jason signed.

“Sorry,” Leo signed back. He left the device alone and started fidgeting with his wedding ring- twisting it round and round, swapping it between fingers, spinning it on the table. Jason could tell something was wrong.

“What’s up?” He said in English.

“It’s nothing,” Leo replied.

“Querido…” Jason chided, “What is it?”

“It’s nothing… it’s-it’s silly, really. It’s not worth mentioning.”

Jason sat back on the sofa with his arms crossed, a patient expression on his face.

“Okay, fine! It’s just… something you said yesterday kinda… is still on my mind.”

Jason leaned forward, “What did I say, mi estrella?”

“You said… you know how we were talking about you getting a job? And how you wanted to make money to settle down for the future? Like- what did you mean by that, because it seemed like you meant…”

Leo trailed off, not making eye contact with Jason. He bounced his leg up and down so hard that the coffee table next to him was buzzing. He kept on passing his wedding ring between one hand and the other. He reached up to touch his ear again, but then he caught himself and quickly brought his hand down. He kept fidgeting with the ring.

“Do you… do you want kids, Jason?”

Jason was kind of taken aback by the bluntness of the question. He hadn’t meant to broach the whole subject of children to Leo. Not yet. But he’d been lying if he said the answer was anything other than yes, “Well… yeah, eventually. I mean, not right now, obviously, but someday. I’ve always imagined myself as a dad. And with Percy and Annabeth having their baby, and Nico and Will announcing that they’re Trying, it kinda got my head spinning a bit.”

Leo didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall in front of him. His leg was jiggling violently now.

“Why? Do you… not want kids?” Jason asked, a little scared to hear the answer.

“I don’t- I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never really seen myself as a dad. I’ve always thought I’d just have my machines. I guess… you don’t think the Roomba is enough, do you?”

Jason shook his head, “No, cariño… I don’t think a Roomba equates to having a child…”

“Why can’t we just be the cool gay uncles? Someone’s gotta do that now that Nico and Will are becoming parents.”

“We can do that, if you want,” Jason said, “But wouldn’t it be so cool to make our family bigger? I get it if you don’t want to bring a child into this world, but we could always adopt- don’t you want to give some poor kid a chance to have the home that you never got?”

There were ways for two male demigods to have biological kids- divine conception and all that. It took a lot of praying and sacrificing to the Gods, but if you were on their good side they’d allow it. That was the route Nico and Will had chosen. It wouldn’t be hard to get their approval- Hera definitely owed them one.

“But we’re demigods,” Leo said, “Life is dangerous for us. I don’t wanna put an innocent kid in harm’s way by inviting it into our lives.”

“I get that,” Jason said, “I really do. But we’re safe in New Rome. Lots of demigods raise families here.”

“I don’t know, Jason…”

“Okay. That’s fine. You don’t have to know everything right now.”

“But… but what if it turns out we want different things? What if I realise, years from now, that “actually no, I definitely don’t want kids” and you realise that “actually yeah, I really do” and then you divorce me for some girl named Tiffany, who has a really weird laugh like a cross between a hyena and a pig but she’s got this really fertile oven and she gives you triplets and I’m left to die alone, only talking to my machines and slowly going crazy? Huh, Jason? What then?”

Jason thought about that for a moment, “But that’s the thing- I don’t want to have kids with Tiffany. The only person I’d ever want to raise a child with is you, mi cielo. That’s who I want on my team. If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to either.”

“So… you’re not gonna leave me for Tiffany?”

“Listen to me, Leo, mi vida.” Jason grabbed Leo’s hand, and Leo’s leg stopped bouncing so much, “Tiffany’s not real. You made her up. And if she was, she sounds like a real bitch. No one compares to you.”

Leo nodded, “Thanks… I-I needed to hear that.”

“Come on,” Jason said, “I’m hungry. Let’s have dinner.”

“I’m cooking again? Man, I’m both the housewife and the breadwinner. What are you?”

The next few interviews were a bust. Eventually, Jason applied for a job as a Roman History professor at NRU.

He shifted in his seat as the interviewer scanned him up and down.

“Wow, I mean… you’re the Jason Grace!” She exclaimed.

“Jason Valdez, actually. I got married.”

“But still… You’re well known across all of New Rome. You slew the Trojan Sea-monster! You toppled the black throne of Kronos and slew the Titan Krios with your bare hands at fifteen! You played a pivotal role in the Second Giant War and helped to defeat Gaea! And again, fought to take down the Triumvirate. You’re an absolute legend!” She looked down at Jason’s resumé, “I don’t even need this. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

“I’d like to be given a fair chance, just like the rest.”

“Noble as ever,” She said, awestruck. She tapped the paper, “Well, this is still impeccable. Top grades at New Rome University. Praetor of the first legion. Pontifex Maximus. Twenty-four years of service in the Fifth Cohort. You’re fluent in Latin, Spanish, Ancient Greek, and American Sign Language. Glowing references from multiple gods. Yeah. You’re hired.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I mean, standard interview questions, yadda yadda yadda- why do you want the job?”

“Umm… well, I’d love to teach. I love being a role model, and supporting young people. And I love Roman History. My husband always jokes about me becoming a Professor.”

“Well you certainly are a role model,” The interviewer said, “Kids look up to you and the rest of the Seven from the Prophecy. You’re heroes to them. It would honestly be a privilege to have you as part of our faculty, and really help the students feel like they can achieve things.”

“That’s… that’s great to hear.”

The interviewer grinned, and stretched out her hand for Jason to shake, “Term starts in September. Welcome to the team.”

“Gah!”

The yelp woke Jason up. He stirred, and saw Leo sitting up in bed, hugging his arms to his chest, drenched in sweat and shivering.

“Leo…?” Jason grumbled. He sat up, and wrapped his arms around Leo’s shoulders. Leo drew in a shaky breath. “What is it?” He made sure to whisper it close to Leo’s good ear, since Leo had taken off his hearing aid before bed.

“N-Nothing… bad dream… go back to sleep.”

Jason moved his arms so that he was now gripping Leo’s shoulders, gently but firmly.

“Mi alma, you’re shaking.”

“…It’s cold.”

“You’re basically a human radiator, Leo. You don’t get cold,” Leo’s skin was hotter than usual, which was saying something. It felt like a toaster that had just been switched off.

Leo stopped digging his nails into his arms and held his hands out in front of him, as if making sure they were really there.

“Did you have another flashback?” Jason asked.

“I… I…”

“The night you died?”

Leo nodded, his breathing was still choked and choppy.

“It’s okay, Leo. You’re alive. You’re here. You’re safe. And I love you, mi vida, mi preciosa vida.”

“I’m… I’m alive,” Leo repeated. He looked again at his hands, studying the lines on his palms, “I’m alive.”

Jason moved again, this time hugging Leo’s middle, squeezing it tightly. Leo let out a sob.

Leo put a hand over his heart, like he needed to remind himself that it was still beating. He closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. He seemed to compose himself a little.

“It’s okay…” Jason whispered, although he wasn’t sure Leo could hear him without his hearing aid- he was completely deaf in his right ear, and had chronic tinnitus in his left, a small side-effect of blowing up.

Leo’s breathing was still irregular and shaky, but Jason could feel his heart slow, and his temperature cool down.

“Leo?” Jason asked, after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Is it me, or… are the night terrors… getting worse?”

Leo hesitated, then nodded. “It’s happening most nights, now. I can usually sleep through them, but…”

“Is it just that night, or…”

“No, mi sol. It’s other stuff. Trauma is trauma-ing.”

Jason unwrapped his arms from Leo’s waist and shuffled forwards, so they were sitting side-by-side, cross-legged on the bed.

“Talk to me, bello.”

Leo looked at Jason in that sad way Jason had come to know. It broke his heart a little every time he saw the pain in Leo’s eyes.

“It’s… it’s hard, mi estrella. My life did end that day. And while I’m so, so happy that I got it back… it’s hard to process what happened. That’s what I think the dreams are for- my brain trying to process it all. But… it’s hard. Because, for a moment, the blood lay still in my veins. My heart stopped beating. It’s hard to imagine busy old me lying dead, but…”

“You haven’t slowed down since then,” Jason observed, “And you never did before that. Your whole life- both of them- you’ve spent them constantly moving, never staying still. If you didn’t even stop in death, then when will you?”

Leo sighed, and fidgeted with the fabric of the bedsheets.

“I think your body is telling you it’s time to rest, amor mio,” Jason told him, “You’ve worked so hard. You deserve a break.”

Leo’s shoulders began to shake with another round of silent tears. He buried his face in Jason’s neck, and Jason wrapped his arms around his body. He had to admit, seeing Leo like this scared him. He was one of the strongest, bravest people he knew- to see him reduced to shaking tears, clawing at invisible scars, weeping, curled in Jason’s arms…

Some horrors in this cruel world were too much to handle. And Jason wasn’t sure how much help his comfort actually gave. He was helpless to fight those inner demons for Leo.

So much for “Respected Roman Warrior”, Jason thought, So much for all the medals, all those titles, all that honour.

The person he loved was sobbing into his chest, and Jason was powerless to stop it. All he could do was stroke Leo’s hair, and tell him everything would be alright. He should be doing more- fighting monsters, killing something- but some monsters you just can’t fight. All Jason could do was hold him.

“… Jason?” Leo whimpered, after a while.

“Yes, mi luna?”

“Are you… are you gonna leave me one day?”

Jason cupped Leo’s face in his strong, calloused hands, holding his everything out in front of him on the bed. He rolled forwards on his knees to kiss his forehead.

“I made a vow, remember?” He whispered, “I stood up in front of all our friends and family, in front of several gods and goddesses, and I promised to be yours forever. And you did the same. Do you remember that?”

Leo looked down so that his nose dug into the heel of Jason’s outstretched hands. “I remember. I know we did, but-”

“Hey! Hey- look at me-“ Jason tilted Leo’s head up, so his brown eyes sparkled in the low light of the street-lamps outside, “Have I ever broken a promise?”

“No…”

“There, then it’s settled. I vowed to love you ‘til I die, and I vowed to keep loving you beyond that. Come what may. And I am nothing if not a man of my word. And I know you are too.”

“I am,” Leo agreed, “I really do love you, Jason.”

“I love you too, amour mio.”

Leo still shivered from the fright of the nightmare. Jason held him close, until Leo eventually began to snore. Jason stayed awake, watching Leo breathe, watching his face twitch as he dreamt, his eyes moving under his lids. They stayed like that until the sun rose.

Another sleepless night- but they were still together at the end of it.

September came, and with it Jason’s first day at work.

Jason unlocked the door to his office and walked inside. It was a small rectangular room- nothing special. But the plaque on the front of his desk read Prof. J. Valdez, embossed in imperial gold lettering. Jason smiled at it.

He walked over to his computer monitor and sat down. He took out his briefcase, and began setting items down on the desk. It took him a while to arrange everything in a way that he wanted, but once he was done he stood back and admired his handiwork.

The framed photo of him and Leo on their wedding day, Leo blushing bright red when Jason had kissed him. The little trinkets Leo had made him over the years. A miniature Festus (deactivated). A Rubik’s cube that shuffled and solved itself periodically. Metal flowers in metal flower pots that actually bloomed whenever Jason walked into the room, and closed up when he left. More pictures of them and their friends. Jason and Leo with Piper hanging out at Camp Half-Blood. Double-dates with Nico and Will in New Rome. All of them with Percy and Annabeth’s new baby taken just after they’d brought her home from the hospital. Jason loved all these things. He loved that he could keep them on his desk, to remind everyone that came into his office that he was in love with Leo Valdez.

Just for good measure, he hung a few more photographs of Leo on the walls, and more little handmade creations on his shelves. He couldn’t help it- Leo always made him around seventy thousand little gadgets every Christmas, birthdays, and random Tuesdays. Their apartment was already filled to bursting with these affectionate little gifts. Did Jason really need fifty new forks? Not necessarily, but they were beautifully crafted and he loved them. His pockets were filled with Leo’s little gizmos, all lovingly made and thoughtfully designed. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He got to his lecture hall early, and began setting up, plugging in his laptop and pulling up the powerpoint. He’d created a little “get to know me” slide that new teachers often made- complete with yet more pictures of Leo.

He sat down at his desk and sighed.

Jason studied the tattoo on his arm. SPQR stamped on the skin and twenty-four lines all beneath an eagle symbol. That was nothing new. But fresher ink glistened. Next to the eagle, in iridescent gold was a hammer. Surrounding the symbols, also in gold, were three thinly-drawn concentric circles. Other couples chose different designs, but Jason had wanted this one. The hammer, the symbol of Vulcan, showed his union with Leo, and the merging of their families. If they ever had kids, they would also have those symbols, as they would be a legacy of both Hephaestus and Jupiter. The rings around the symbols represented years of marriage. Leo had a similar tattoo- his hammer in the standard black and his eagle in gold encircled in a thick black ring before the thinner gold ones to show that he married into the legion. The tattoo, of course, had been Leo’s idea.

Students began to drip in.

“Is this Roman History with Professor Valdez?” A student asked.

Jason must have grinned a little too hard, because the kid looked a little freaked out.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

He couldn’t help it. It was one of his favourite things ever, to hear his new name. Sometimes, when he was alone, he’d just say it to himself, over and over “Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez, Jason Valdez.” Even after he’d been married to Leo for three years, he never got tired of it. And oh! To hear others say it too made him elated beyond description. That’s one of the reasons why he loved the idea of becoming a teacher. He’d get to be referred to as “Professor Valdez” every day. He’d never get used to it in the best way possible.

Once everyone had settled into their seats, he stood up.

“Hello, everybody! My name is Professor Valdez, and I will be your Roman History teacher for most of your time here.”

“LEONIDAS JAVIER VALDEZ!”

“Uh oh,” Leo muttered. “What is it, amorsito??” He called in a sing-song voice from the other room.

“DON’T YOU AMORSITO ME!! COME HERE!”

Jason knew Leo would be reluctant to move, “Are you sure, mi luna? Can’t you come out here and tell me?”

“COME. HERE.”

Jason heard groaning, and Leo appeared in the door.

“Jason Sebastian Valdez,” Leo said, leaning against the doorframe, trying to act as causal and innocent as possible, “What’s up, amor mio?”

“What the fuck is this???” Jason roared.

He gestured to the room. Every inch of every surface- the bed, the floor, the side tables, the windowsill, the top of the wardrobe- was covered with bits of machinery. Copper wiring, bronze plates, circuit boards, pipes, pistons, batteries, scrap metal, plywood, spanners, screwdrivers, discs, spheres, et cetera, et cetera, et-fucking-cetera.

“What's all this junk doing here?” Jason demanded.

“First of all, chiqui, not junk. Second, a certain, ummm… father-in-law of mine took out the power of my workshop in one of his tantrums. Didn't I tell you?"

"No. Why would he do that?"

"Well, a certain father-in-law of yours pissed him off."

Jason sighed and up at the ceiling, “What did he do this time?”

Leo shrugged. “I dunno. God stuff. And tu padre is taking it out on me!”

Jason tapped his foot in annoyance and surveyed the room, “Did you have to do this in the bedroom?”

Leo shrugged again.

“Leo, mi amor, you gotta tidy this- hey, are you listening?”

Leo had turned away.

“Did you just turn off your hearing aid? Are you kidding me?”

No response. Jason tapped Leo on the shoulder and switched to ASL.

“This needs to be tidied up.”

Leo closed his eyes. Jason stamped his feet in frustration. Leo grinned, his eyes still closed.

Jason grabbed Leo’s shirt and pulled him into a quick kiss. Then he put a hand on Leo’s shoulder, and furiously tapped out a message in morse code.

“TIDY. NOW.”

“Umm… No hablo ingles.” Leo said.

Jason tapped out the same message, this time in Spanish.

Leo groaned again, “Fiiiinee,” He grumbled, “You got me. I’ll do it.” He opened his eyes and switched his hearing aid back on.

“What are you building, anyway?”

Leo sighed, “Typical children of Dionysus, god of theatre, to want a door that only opens if you scream “Veronica! open the, open the door please!” with the rage of a thousand daddy issues.”

“…and you can make that?”

“Well, I’m worried they’ll kill me with drain cleaner if I don’t.”

Leo started to shift piles of materials. Jason started to head to the door, then paused and said, “I’m sorry I called your stuff junk. You’re right. It’s not junk.”

“S’okay, bello. I forgive you.”

Jason kissed him on the cheek, then left the room.

Jason booted up the powerpoint and froze. He had forgotten what was on that lesson plan. The name on the title slide hit him like a brick, almost knocking the air from his lungs.

He could do this. It was fine, he could do this.

He stood up in front of the lecture hall and cleared his throat.

“G-Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. A powerful Roman Emperor, known more commonly as C-“ His voice cracked, “… as Cal-“ Jason gripped the edge of the desk, and tried to blink away the sting in his eyes. Flashbacks shot through his mind, but he pushed them away. He swallowed, “Caligula,” He choked out.

Jason could still feel the impression his gladius left in his palm as he gripped it. He could still remember Caligula’s snarl as Jason approached.

“You’re one of those Camp Jupiter brats, aren’t you?”

“I’m Jason Grace,” he said, “Former praetor of the Twelfth Legion. Son of Jupiter. Child of Rome. But I belong to both camps.”

“Good enough,” Caligula growled, advancing slowly towards him, “I’ll hold you responsible for Camp Jupiter’s treason tonight.”

Jason tried to pull himself back to the present.

“He reigned f-from 37AD to 41…” He gripped the desk harder, his knuckles turning white, and forced down the bile that was rising in his throat.

A blur of memories, flashes of swords and fighting.

He remembered parrying Caligula’s spear with his gladius, every move costing him more and more energy. His muscles were weakening. He’d expended so much energy controlling the winds and the lightning.- he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the fight.

“Get out of here!” he called to his friends. “Go!”

“Umm… Professor Valdez?” A voice called, “Are you alright? You look-“

Jason’s ears were ringing. His vision was spinning. He blinked, and tried to bring the world into focus. His eyes fixed on something in the haze. A face, on a photograph. It was Leo’s face, in the home-screen of Jason’s laptop. A picture of them on a picnic date last fall. Jason took a deep breath and straightened up.

“Yeah… I’m- I’m fine,” he managed. He turned back to the projector screen, “Ca-Caligula’s empire stretched across-“ suddenly, he stumbled, and steadied himself on the desk. His head swam.

Pain shot up his left thigh. He glanced down, and saw an arrow sprouted from it. Jason grunted and stumbled. Piper yelled in warning as Caligula charged again. He just managed to roll aside. He remembered grabbing at the air, summoning Tempest with what strength he could spare. He rode against Caligula atop the ventus’ back, jousting sword versus spear. Another arrow took him in the upper arm.

He could feel the distinct acidic taste of vomit in his throat. “Ex- excuse me, class,” He blurted out, and rushed out of the hall.

“I told you this isn’t a game!” yelled Caligula. “You don’t walk away from me alive!”

Below, an explosion rocked the ship. The room was cloven further apart. Jason was bleeding from arrows in each limb now, yet raised his sword in defiance all the same. They circled one another on their horses in the cramped space, trading blows. Incitatus kicked at Tempest with his golden-shod front hooves. The ventus responded with bursts of electricity that scorched the stallion’s white flanks. The air was charged with electricity. He jabbed furiously at the Emperor, slashing like a Greek while Caligula stabbed like a Roman.

Through the fighting, he glimpsed Apollo across the room, standing dumbstruck next to Piper.

He managed to make it to the staff toilets and proceeded to dry-heave over the bowl. His pulse throbbed in his veins. His vision was a blur.

Jason had decided. Piper McLean would not die tonight. Apollo, Meg, all the others… they must live too. Keep fighting for what was right.

And then he thought about Leo.

As Caligula and he jousted around the ruins, knowing he was close to death, he thought about his best friend.

He thought about Leo putting his life before Jason’s to complete the prophecy- dying before Jason could stop him. He thought about the Oracle telling him his fate, and his one consolation being that he might re-unite with Leo in Elysium.

But Leo was alive. And Jason wouldn’t see him again.

He thought about that pointed face, those busy eyes, that sparkling smile. He thought about Leo, covered in scratches and scorch-marks. Tiny Leo, with his impish grin and his tooth gap and his excited bouncing. He thought about the Leo he had seen defeating a Primordial Goddess, that determination, the acceptance. He thought about the many hardships Leo had escaped, how he could face anything and pull through. As Jason fought, he thought about that brilliant, annoying, funny, tragic, genius, terrified, beautiful man- the many sides of him forming something wonderful. Something… human.

After growing up nothing but a soldier, meeting Leo had taught him for the first time how to be a person. Be human.

He met Apollo’s eyes across the ruined throne room.

“GO!” He yelled, “Remember!”

Remember what it’s like to be human.

These feelings replayed in Jason’s mind as he was brought back to that night. Everything he thought of in his final moments, before pain shot up from the middle of his chest, and everything went black.

He stayed there, hunched over the basin of the hollow throne, retching and blinking back tears. The memories began to dissipate, and Jason could think clearly again. Eventually, after much gagging, nothing came out. He flushed anyway, and sat back against the wall of the bathroom stall, breathing hard and shaking. With trembling fingers, he fished out his phone and dialled a number. It was demigod-safe… mostly. Leo had found a way to scramble the signal using modern VPN technology, but the longer you used it the more dangerous it got. It was for emergencies only.

The phone rang twice before Leo picked up.

“You’ve reached the line for the Greatest Husband in the Cosmos, how may I help you?”

“H-… H-help…” Jason repeated.

Leo’s tone instantly changed. “Jason? Jason, baby, what’s wrong? Mi vida, talk to me.”

“I… I need…”

Jason heard panicked clattering over the phone.

“Where are you? Stay there, I’ll find you. Are you at work? Are you safe? Jason, come on, say something.”

“I c-c-…. Ca-… I’m…” Jason swallowed, and listened to the sound of Leo on the other end of the phone, cursing in Spanish under his breath, the unmistakable sound of a frustrated ADHD demigod searching for his keys in a cluttered machine shop. It was a very familiar sound to Jason. He knew it well, and that calmed him. He took a deep breath, “I’m- I’m safe. I’m at New Rome University, I’ll meet you out front, l-lemme just…”

“I’ll be there in ten minuites, okay?” Leo said, “Don’t panic, I’m here. I’ve gotta hang up now, but I’m coming, don’t worry. Just… just hang in there, ‘til I can get to you. I’ll be there as quick as I can, you hear?”

“Y-yes. Okay.”

“Love you. See you in ten.”

“Love you.”

Jason watched Leo’s name blink off the screen. He took a few deep breaths, then unlocked the bathroom stall door.

He didn’t remember waking up on that California beach. He didn’t really remember much of the quest that followed.

The first thing that was clear in his mind was Leo’s face at that Santa Monica airport, grinning as he hopped off Festus’ back. He remembered rushing towards him, burying his face in that warm smell of motor oil and woodsmoke. He remembered laughing. He remembered smiling. Nothing else mattered in that moment. They were together at last.

But flashbacks and nightmares of that fight still haunted him.

On his way out to the front entrance, Jason stopped by the reception area and arranged to have a sub cover his class for the rest of the day. Then he walked out, taking in the fresh air.

He watched as Leo’s massive modified vintage Ford pick-up truck pulled into the drop-off zone. The passenger-side door opened to show Leo at the wheel, his face knotted with concern. Jason hopped inside and shut the door, sighing with relief as the air con blasted his face from the dashboard.

Leo seemed to read the situation instantly. He didn’t ask Jason what had happened. He didn’t smother him with soothing words. He just slapped the steering wheel of the truck (which was twice the size of his torso) and said, “Right. Ice cream?”

They ate their ice cream in the back of Leo's pick-up, parked on temple hill, looking out over the city. Leo had a scoop of lemon sorbet in a pot (he couldn’t have ice cream in a cone- it would melt in his hands and drip down the side before he could finish it. He needed a pot to catch the drips). Jason had a strawberry double-cone with white chocolate sprinkles and a flake.

"So..." Leo began.

"Nope," Jason said, "Don't wanna talk about it. Tell me about your machines."

Leo suddenly brightened, "I got this commission in from a mysterious outsider. Those are always the best."

“Oh?” Jason said, turning his head to lick a drip off his ice cream cone.

“It was an order for delivery. The guy was weird. He was a demigod, but he didn’t seem Greek or Roman.”

Jason was dimly aware that children of gods from other pantheons existed, but he didn’t cross paths with them very often.

“Anyway, it’s posing some interesting challenges, working with different metals, using different styles of metalwork. I’m learning a lot.”

“Sounds fun. Tell me more.”

Leo went on about the new techniques he’d discovered, and how it’s been improving his skill. Jason listened. He loved hearing Leo info-dump about his interests. If anything, it took his mind off old emperor booties. He loved the way Leo’s voice changed, his words slurring with eagerness as they spilled out of his mouth, his hands moving animatedly as he talked, flapping when he got excited. He loved how his curly hair bounced as Leo rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet enthusiastically.

Jason bit off the last of the ice cream at the top, leaving only plain waffle-cone left. He wanted to eat it, but gave it to Leo instead to have with his sorbet. They both knew that the cone was the best bit of the ice cream.

They kept talking until the sun went down and the sky became bright with stars. Jason rested his head on Leo’s shoulder and yawned.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s drive you home,” Leo said, nudging him affectionately.

Jason nodded, drowsily.

The car ride home was in comfortable silence. Leo kept his eyes on the road, but snuck glances at Jason sitting sleepily in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” Jason said, “For turning a shitty day into a wonderful one.”

Jason explained everything that had happened in the lesson, running out and almost throwing up in the bathroom.

Leo listened in patient silence, his gaze locked on the sprawling city streets in front of them

"I'm sorry, Leo..." Jason said, "I'm moaning about almost dying when you actually did die, it's not-"

"Hey. Whoa. No. This isn't a competition. I don't wanna make you feel like you can't talk to me because my pain and sadness is more painful and sad than yours. You're hurting, I help. That's the deal. That's what I vowed to do. And you do the same for me. No matter what that hurt is, we support each other, capiche?"

Jason nodded, "Capiche. You're right. I'm sorry."

“What are you sorry for, mi estrella?” Leo asked, calmly.

“I… I don’t know…” Jason admitted.

“Exactly,” Leo said. And the matter was settled.

They slipped back into sleepy, non-verbal company until they made it back to their apartment.

Leo kept a little stool next to the forges, which was known only as “Jason’s chair”. Jason often sat, watching Leo stoke the flames. He loved to sit there and see him turning over coals with his bare hands, or working away at his desk next to it. Sometimes Jason got out his laptop and wrote lesson plans while Leo worked. Sometimes Jason helped- if just to be a human spark plug. Sometimes he just sat and observed. They would talk, or sing songs, or just work in silence.

“What’re you working on?” Jason asked from his chair.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve just finished the commission by those Dionysus kids. Hope they like it.”

He picked up his drink and sniffed it, obviously checking for drain cleaner. “I’m now working on a self-playing harp to add ambiance to the temple of Apollo,” He glanced at Jason and smiled, “The one that you re-designed on temple hill.”

He turned back to his blueprint, muttering to himself. Jason watched as he drew long lines across the page with his craftsman’s ruler. Leo touched a button on his hearing aid, and turned up a dial on a small radio in front of him on his desk. He’d rigged up his hearing aid to connect to it via bluetooth, so that he could listen to music as he worked.

The doorbell rang, and Leo opened it. He was greeted with a knife to the throat. He grinned.

Jason sat perfectly still on his stool, watching as Leo poured over his notebooks, nodding his head slightly along with the music in his ears. In their silence, he could just about hear the tinny voice of the music coming from the device. It sounded like Taylor Swift. It probably was.

“How’s my favourite sister-in-law?”

“Your reflexes could be sharper,” Thalia said in response, then she lowered her knife and pulled him into a tight hug. When they broke apart, and she saw Jason standing there, she grabbed him and squeezed him so fiercely Jason thought she might crack a rib.

“Food is on the stove,” Leo announced, “Should be ready in about half an hour. If Piper hasn’t already helped herself to it all.”

“When did McLean get here?” Thalia asked.

“She stayed overnight to sleep off the jet-lag,” Jason explained, then he clapped his hands together, “But now we’re all here, should we do presents?”

Leo shook his head, “Nah, man. Food first. Keep ‘em waiting. That’s how my mom did it. I’ll go see to the kitchen, you guys talk or something. It’ll only be another twenty minutes or so, anyway.”

After a very hearty Christmas dinner cooked by the notoriously skilled Chef Leo, they got to work passing round presents.

Leo had organised them into four little piles, and they took turns opening one present each.

Except there was one slight problem-

Jason had about five million more presents than everyone else. All a variety of sizes and shapes, all wrapped in the same bronze (recyclable) wrapping paper.

Leo didn’t seem to think this was an issue (“I may have made you a few more presents than what we agreed was the limit! So what?”), but Thalia and Piper were exchanging glances, worried they’d have to sit there and watch while Jason unwrapped each one individually and was subjected to a long explanation by Leo as to every device’s multiple functions. To make things go a little faster, they agreed to let Jason unwrap five presents per round instead of the usual one.

Was Jason complaining about how thoughtful his husband was? Fuck no. He loved it. He was gonna put a lot of these in his office when he got back to school.

Leo was first in the circle. Thalia got him a collection of various hides from monsters she had slain. Most of them were still fresh. Leo immediately grabbed a notebook and wrote down some ideas for contraptions he could use them in.

Jason was next. Leo had made him: A picture frame that unlocked and opened up into a shaving mirror, one of those ballerina jewellery boxes with a dancing Festus (Jason didn’t wear jewellery), a large polaroid camera that videoed and printed out Leo’s scroll holograms (“scrollograms!”), a key ring embossed with the words “te amo”, and an airbed pump.

“I thought we could try camping!”

“Leo, do we own a tent?”

Leo glanced nervously at a box-shaped present at the bottom of Jason’s pile.

Piper was next. Jason got her tickets to see Chappell Roan for the three of them. She actually teared up and flung herself into his arms. Leo bounced up and down and flapped his hands, squealing excitedly.

Leo had gotten Thalia the same thing he did every year- a bottle of Texas Hot Sauce.

They went round the circle a few more times, until they had a large pile of gifts next to them.

Alongside his animal pelts, Leo received 50 drachmas towards his Eras Tour Fund, a collection of more notebooks, and The Tortured Poets Department on CD from Jason (“So you don’t have to keep streaming it while you work and attract monsters to the workshop.”). He got another 75 to the Eras Tour Fund from Piper, and various tools from his wishlist. She also got him what looked like a dog coat, but it was fifty times the size.

“It’s for Festus!” She explained, “In case he gets cold in the winter!”

Piper received a customised surfboard from Leo, complete with badass (totally safe) modifications. She also got a large set of different-sized hunting knives from Thalia.

Jason got several thousand more gifts from Leo, which took up most of the sofa and the coffee table. Piper got him one of those fluffy oversized “oodies” that were all the rage online. It was blue, with a large superman logo on the front. Jason argued that he didn’t need to be any warmer than he already was, sleeping next to Leo. Somehow he still found himself buried in it anyway, the hood pulled down over his eyes, just enough so he could see. Thalia got him a framed photo of the two of them when Jason was just a baby.

“Where… where did you find this?” He asked, looking at the photograph, stunned.

“I have my ways,” She remarked, nonchalantly.

Piper had got Thalia a new leather jacket.

“Another one?” Jason asked, “You’ve got loads!”

Thalia shrugged, “All my old ones got blood on them.”

Lastly, Jason handed his gift to Thalia. She opened up the small rectangular box, and pulled out a hunting dagger. She unsheathed it, and examined it. It was hammered a little out of shape, and the blade was warped.

“I’m assuming this wasn’t made by the OG Valdez?” She asked, glancing at her brother.

Jason looked a little sheepish. Leo rubbed his back, reassuringly. “Your metalwork’s getting better, chiqui. It’s good! You can’t help the fact that you’re married to one of the best and most advanced weaponsmiths in the Greco-Roman pantheon. But it’s good work.”

Thalia gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “I love it. Thank you.”

Jason gave her a tight, one-armed hug.

“I actually have something else for you,” Thalia said to him.

“Oh?”

“It’s not a gift, exactly just… news.”

“Good news?” Leo asked.

Thalia neither confirmed nor denied this, just said: “I got a call from someone a couple weeks ago. Our cousins. On our mom’s side. I met them a couple of times as a kid but mom blipped off the radar once she was expecting you. They’d found out I was still out there recently and wanted to get back in touch. They didn’t know about you. I didn’t tell them. I said I’ll think about it, but honestly? I want nothing to do with them. I don’t want to be associated with anything to do with Mom, after what she did to you. And anyway, it’ll be a bitch to explain to them why I still look sixteen. But I thought it was only right you should know, in case you were interested in getting to know them.”

Jason was a little speechless. He’d never really considered the fact that he might have extended family out there. Other Graces. He wasn’t sure what to do. That didn’t bother him though. When he wasn’t sure about something, he’d talk it through with Leo. They’d figure it out together.

Family games began. After a rather violent round of charades, cut short by the fire alarm being set off by someone who will remain nameless, they decided on karaoke.

“KNEE-DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND YOU’RE EATING ME OUT-“ Leo and Piper screamed in unison, using the deodorant bottle and the TV remote as fake microphones. They’d moved the coffee table out the way and the two of them were now singing their hearts out in the middle of the living room while Jason and Thalia watched from the couch.

Jason glanced nervously at a vase that was getting dangerously close to Leo’s flailing arms. Maybe Karaoke hadn’t been the best idea.

Piper was yelling furiously into her deodorant bottle, eyes closed, giving her best theatre-kid belt.

Leo was on his knees, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“FUCKED YOU IN THE BATHROOM WHEN WE WENT TO DINNER, YOUR PARENTS AT THE TABLE, YOU WONDER WHY I’M BITTERRRRR- hey! Hey, Jason! Do you think me and Piper should start a band? No, but really? I’ve already picked out our name, we’d be called “Piping Hot!” I think we should do it. Piper? Should we do it?”

“I married that man,” Jason reminded Thalia.

“Y’know, we did ask Chappell Roan if she wanted to join the hunters,” Thalia remarked.

Piper spun around so fast she almost wacked Leo in the face, “Ohh my gods tell me EVERYTHING.”

“This was before I joined,” Thalia said, “And she said no. But she still invites Lady Artemis to her concerts sometimes.”

Piper shoved herself in between the two siblings on the sofa, and began bouncing up and down in excitement as Thalia told stories of all the amazing women who have been asked to join the hunters over the years.

Jason, feeling a little crowded, stood up from the couch and went into the bedroom.

He groaned and rubbed his temples. Soon, he felt hands creep from his waist and hug him around the middle. Leo leaned his warm body into him, and rested his chin on Jason’s shoulder.

“Hmm…You okay?” Leo mumbled.

“Yeah…” Jason stayed in Leo’s embrace for a few seconds, then pulled away, leaning against the dresser.

Leo leaned next to him, sighing and folding his arms.

“You still thinking about what Thalia said? About your cousins?”

“Yeah…” Jason said, again. He turned to him, “What do you think I should do?”

Leo was silent for a few moments. “I dunno…”

“You have family, don’t you?” Jason asked.

Leo’s shoulders tensed slightly. Jason could see his expression become a little guarded, which hardly happened to Jason anymore. But biological family was a touchy subject for both of them. “Yeah. Lots.”

“Do you… ever think about getting back in touch? After everything that’s happened-“

Leo shook his head vigorously, “Nuh-uh. No way. I think it’s safe to say I don’t have the best experience with my extended family. My own cousins? They used to beat me up for being weird and skinny. I don’t owe those people a gods-damned thing.” He looked down, sadly, “And anyway, I tried… once. Chiron told me, after the fight with Gaea, that he called them to tell them I was dead. They just… didn’t care. My Aunt yelled at him for disturbing her and hung up the phone.”

“That’s horrible!”

Leo shrugged, “I don’t need them. I got you guys.” He glanced fondly through the open doorway of their room, over at Piper and Thalia, who were watching Mean Girls on the sofa (they both had a crush on Regina George), “You’re all the family that I need.”

“Still… there’s something to be said for finding your roots. Your blood. Could be a community there.”

Jason had spent his whole life trying to find where he fit. Camp Jupiter, Camp Half-Blood, on the Argo II, in the mortal world. He’d eventually found his place, with Piper and Leo. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t expand his people. His pack. If his relatives genuinely cared about him, and wanted to meet him…

Leo ran his hands through his hair, “Yeah… I get why some people think blood is important. But not for me. I love my mom because she raised me, not because she gave birth to me. You and Piper… you’ve showed me more love and kindness than the people that are s’pposed to take care of me. You’re my family.” He paused, then added, “But hey, I mean… If finding your blood relatives is what you need to do, then do it.”

“Plus,” Jason added, “If we ever have kids… hypothetically speaking… it might be nice for them to know their heritage.”

“It would…” Leo agreed, “But it’s not necessary.”

Jason sighed, “I don’t know why I’m getting all worked up about this. They don’t even know I exist yet. I guess I’ve sort of always had this fantasy of a nice, nuclear family structure. I know it’s stupid, but-“

“No, it’s not stupid!” Leo said, pulling away from the dresser and turning to face him, “If it’s something you want, then it’s something you want. It’s okay to want normalcy. Everyone has their own beliefs about what family should be. Yeah, it’s the template a western society pushes onto us, but that doesn’t make it inherently evil. It’s nice to want to know the people you’re related to. We’re pack animals- it’s in our nature,” he sighed, “Look. All I’m saying is I’ve done the whole “blood relatives” thing, and it didn’t work out for me, so I adjusted to live without it. Thalia didn’t want it either. That’s her choice. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

“But what if they’re shitty, like yours?”

“Then we just say fuck ‘em and we’ll go get ice cream.”

Jason rested his head on Leo’s shoulder, “You’re my favourite husband, did you know that? You’re just the best.”

Leo smiled, “And, if they’re really nice? Then… count yourself lucky, I guess. Not everyone can have that.”

“But you’ll have it,” Jason said, “Any family that is mine is yours now. If I get some shiny new family members then they’ll be yours, too. You might finally be accepted into a big clan of people.”

“That would be kinda nice,” Leo admitted, “But I’ll be happy either way. I’m happy just with you, bello. It is a wonderful dream, don’t get me wrong, and I love that you think it could happen. And I don’t wanna tell you to not get your hopes up, just… I dunno, I guess I find it hard to believe that a wider family like that could accept someone, love them unconditionally just because they share a few genes. But that reflects more about me than it says about you. I think you should go for it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded to the open doorway, “Come on, let’s go back out there before they decide to make Fetch happen.”

Jason thought fondly back to a conversation they’d had a few years ago, during one of their sessions of sitting together in the workshop.

“Hey, hermoso?”

“Hmm?” Leo looked up from his sketches. Jason still remembered it now. It was summer, and hot. Leo had tied his hair back to keep it out of his face as he worked. His bronze hearing aid glinted in the low evening light. This was back before they were married, and Leo’s engagement ring twitched a little on Leo’s ring finger as he tapped on the desk.

“I-I was thinking… what if I… changed my name?”

Leo had put his pencil down and turned in his chair, so that he was facing Jason.

“What, like, Fernando Grace or something?”

“No, the, er… the last name. In marriage.”

“So… Grace-Valdez? Or… Valdez-Grace?”

Jason shifted on the seat of his stool. Leo’s amber-brown eyes watched him, noting every tender movement, twitch, and mannerism as Jason sat before him.

“Well… how about just Jason Valdez?”

Leo thought for a moment. “You sure Fernando is off the table? Because I think-“

“Leo, I’m serious.”

“Sorry, I’m just uncomfortable with emotions,” Leo said, “That is… wow. It’s a lot to process… You’re really serious? Like, genuinely?”

“Yeah!” I mean… my mom was kind of a… a…”

“A bitch.”

“Yes. That. I’m perfectly fine with letting her name die out. I don’t really want to be associated with her, or-or what she’s done. But I want you to be a part of me. A part of my identity. I want to be a Valdez. If… If you’d let me.”

Leo’s expression was hard to read at first, Jason could see the cogs turning in Leo’s brain, thinking a million thoughts at once, but then he broke into a gigantic smile.

“Oh Jason! Of course! If you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Jason said, reaching out and taking both Leo’s hands in his, “I am sure.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [Okay, so I’ve hit my limit for pictures per posts, so I can’t use any more of those cool page dividers I made, so we’ll have to just pretend ;)] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason walked into his office the first day back from Winter Break.

He sat down in his office chair, and booted up the PC monitor. While he was waiting for it to load, he sat back and surveyed everything on his desk. This was his morning ritual: count your blessings, you have a lot more than you used to.

His eyes fixed on a photograph. Him and Leo at the altar on their wedding day.

Thalia stood to the left in her Best Man’s suit. Percy, Nico, Will, and Reyna had all been groomsmen. Piper stood to Leo’s right as his Maid of Honour. Frank had refused to wear the bridesmaid’s dress that Leo had picked out, and instead settled for a dark blue tux that really did kind of suit him. He stood beside Hazel, just behind Piper. The entire Hephaestus cabin had been the bridal party (little Harley had been a very cute flower boy). Even Hephaestus himself was there, and had agreed to walk Leo down the aisle. Jupiter hadn’t shown. Figures. Jason had to admit that he’d hoped his father would be there, but it was wishful thinking. He didn’t dwell on it though- that day had been the happiest day of his life, he wasn’t going to let his deadbeat daddy ruin it for him.

They were married in June- the sacred month dedicated to Juno. In Roman times, this was meant to be good luck and a blessing on your marriage. While both Jason and Leo had a… complicated relationship with the goddess, they tried their best to keep things civil for the sake of the special day.

Jason had worn a traditional Roman toga. It was white with gold embroidery. Leo had, of course, designed that as well. He was amazing with a sewing machine.

Leo wore a well-fitted tuxedo. The fabric was enchanted to flicker red and gold- with flashes of white and blue, like hot flames. He called it “girl-on-fire core”. It was lined with dragon hide on the inside, making it fireproof.

Wreaths of violets and marigolds adorned the wedding arch. Jason held Leo’s calloused hands in his own, feeling the heat coming off of them in waves, like holding a mug of hot chocolate on a cold Christmas day.

Aphrodite stood next to them under the arch, officiating the wedding.

“Do you, Jason Grace, take Leonidas-“

Leo coughed.

“… Leo Valdez, to be your husband- wed in both mortal law and in the eyes of the gods? Do you, in front of all the people gathered here today, pledge to be true and devoted to him, to have and to hold for eternity? From this day forward, do you vow to be with him, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, forever? In good times and bad, in sickness and in health, do you promise to love and honor him all the days of your life and beyond, never to part, even in death?”

Jason gripped Leo’s hands in his. He knew that the goddess Aphrodite was right next to him, but honestly? He didn’t give a flying fuck about her. And that was coming from the Flying Fuck himself. All he could look at was Leo. Leo was the most beautiful person in that room. He knew that would definitely displease the goddess, but Jason had given his whole life trying to serve the will of the gods. Now, he was creating a new life. With the phenomenal man in front of him.

Jason felt Leo’s fingers tapping against Jason’s palms where their hands were grasped. A familiar rhythm that Jason knew well. Two short taps. Short tap, long tap, two short taps. Three long taps. Three short taps and a long tap. Tap. Long tap, short tap, long tap, long tap. Three long taps. Two short taps, one long tap.

Jason grinned.

“I do.”

Maybe Aphrodite smiled then, Jason didn’t know. He was lost in Leo’s deep eyes, looking at him and him only.

“I really, really do.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

“Shit!” Jason whispered, as the fork fell to the ground with a loud clatter, “Shhh!” He told the fork, which probably didn’t help.

Leo was asleep on the in the living-room. He’d had another nightmare and had woken up in flames, scorching the duvet. After much consolation that no, Jason had not been hurt in the fire and that yes, it was just a dream, he had finally passed out curled in Jason’s arms, watching Frozen II on the sofa. That was at 5am.

It was now midday and Leo was still asleep. It was his day off, so Jason was currently trying to cook his husband breakfast. There was just one small issue…

Jason couldn’t cook.

He fussed about in their little kitchenette that led off their open-plan living/dining space, a Stand-Up Comedy Special on in the background, the volume down low so as not to wake Leo. He’d somehow managed to burn the avocado, meanwhile the hash-browns were still frozen cold in the middle. He was beginning to get super frustrated with this breakfast burrito. Why couldn’t he have just made cereal instead? But he wanted to do something nice for Leo, and thank him for all the times Leo had cooked.

“Fry bacon over medium heat until crispy,” Jason muttered to himself. As soon as he set the skillet down, the outlets sparked, causing the induction hob to short-circuit, the digital display blinking out. Jason tried several times, but it refused to switch back on. “Fine, be that way!” Jason snapped at the hob.

He didn’t really understand why Leo couldn’t just eat the bacon raw. Jason had been raised by wolves after all- he’d done it loads of times and had only gotten sick twice. But Leo loved food, especially good food. It reminded him of home, of his mother, and family gatherings where everyone all sat around the table good-naturedly, united by the meal enough to not yell at each other. Those mealtimes were the only happy memories Leo had of the family that had kicked him out on the streets and ruined his life. It was safe to say the other Valdezes had not been present at their wedding.

Jason thought back to his own upbringing. How his mom had been so drunk and zonked out that she’d forget to feed him and Thalia. Jason had been so hungry, he’d tried to eat a stapler. He knew Leo had had similar experiences on the streets, and, while Leo had never admitted it, that was probably one of the reasons why he was so short and skinny.

He’d gained a lot of weight since Jason had first seen him on that bus, which Jason was proud of. He imagined that he’d been even thinner before. He was glad to see Leo getting better, but part of him was still sad to see the damage it had done.

Jason wished he could cook. Maybe it was some primal wolf urge to look out for the runt of the litter, but also food was a comfort for Leo, and cooking was a love language to him. He wanted more than anything to make him good meals, see his face light up when he made him something.

“I’m not gonna fuck this up this time,” Jason muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of Leo’s proud expression when he showed off his culinary creation kept him going. He decided to light a small fire over the miniature brasier they kept on the countertop for offerings (scraped a bit of bacon and some sliced tomato into it, praying to Edesia, Roman goddess of Banquets for good luck) and decided to fry the bacon the old fashioned way.

Leo woke up at 1pm (Jason was glad he’d gotten at least the recommended eight hours of sleep). Jason immediately set the plate of burritos down on the coffee table in front of him, grinning eagerly.

Leo reached out and took the burrito, looking perplexed. He examined its contents, “You- you made this?”

“Yup.”

“You cooked?”

“Sure did.”

Leo glanced back at their kitchenette, as if checking for explosion marks. He sniffed the tortilla, cautiously. Jason sat on the edge of the armchair next to him, bouncing up and down a little on the cushion. He could almost imagine his tail wagging in anticipation.

Leo bit into the wrap, and his face lit up. “This is actually not bad! You’re getting better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, querido. Es muy bueno. You can make this for me again.”

Jason beamed, proud of himself.

“Did you spend all morning on this?”

“I did. I wanted to do something special to cheer you up. I’m glad you like it.”

Leo took another bite. “Oh what a joy to wake up to!” He said, “You really are the best Husband ever.”

“I can’t be,” Jason said, “You exist.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

As the students filed out of the lecture hall, Jason turned and saw Leo leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in his usual suspenders and tool belt, this time over a black button-up shirt. A clean one, which was unlike Leo. He looked surprisingly dashing with his freshly-washed hair and his brown Doc Martens. Several of Jason’s students had stopped to stare at him, whispering behind their hands. Jason watched as Leo produced a bouquet of violets and marigolds from the back pocket of his tool belt.

Jason walked forward and accepted them, then kissed him on the cheek.

“What’s the occasion, mi cielo?” Jason asked.

“No occasion,” Leo said, “I just love you.”

Jason spied a few of his students taking pictures on their phones.

“You better not be posting those online,” Jason told them, “If I get home to find a hoard of monsters raiding our apartment you’re all getting Ds, understand?”

They nodded. He turned back to Leo.

“There’s still some work I’ve gotta finish up,” Jason whispered.

“Me too,” Leo whispered back, “But… can we talk? Later?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Jason said. He could feel himself blushing. His students were staring at them, giggling.

Leo noticed them too. He switched to American Sign Language.

“Let’s go to that restaurant we like. I’ll meet you there at 8pm.”

“Fancy!” Jason signed, “Are you sure this isn’t a special occasion?”

Leo smiled. “I just wanna take you out! I have money, I’m allowed to take my husband out on a date! Just don’t be late. I’ll see you there.”

He gave Jason another peck on the cheek. “I gotta run,” He said, “But talk later, okay?”

“Okay!” Jason called, as Leo rushed off.

Jason stood there, agape, for a few seconds, before the excited whispers from the small crowd of students snapped him out of it.

“Gods, I hope that was his husband.” “He’s so skinny!” “I thought children of Hephaestus were supposed to be huge!” “And ugly, but he was kinda cute.” “No, guys, did you see he’s got, like, five million photos of him on his desk-“

Jason cleared his throat, and they stopped abruptly, “Yes, if you’re curious, that was Mr Valdez. No, I will not be taking further questions at this time. Umm… Class dismissed.”

The gaggle of students left, dragging their feet and sneaking glances back at Jason, talking in hushed whispers.

A little dazed, he made his way up to his office and walked inside. Jason realised he was still holding the bouquet of flowers Leo had given him. He walked over to his desk, emptied his half-drunk cup of tea, washed the mug out and filled it up with water (Leo often teased him for drinking tea. He said it made him look like a British Grandpa. But Jason liked it). He plopped the flowers in it, and sat down at his desk to grade papers.

The sun had set in the early january hours when he heard a faint rap on his door. He looked up. Standing nervously in the doorway was one of his quieter students, Joshua.

“Umm… Professor Valdez?” He asked in a small voice.

“What is it, Joshua?”

“Can- can I come in?”

Jason gestured for the kid to sit down in the chair facing his desk.

“I was- I was working on a project for my Greek Studies course, and we had to write about one difference between Roman and Greek society…”

“Yes…?”

“Well, I wanted to write about how Greeks viewed queer identity compared to the Romans? Because they, like, had fundamentally different views on gender and sexuality and it’s super interesting to me. I know you’re a Roman History professor but you’re also one of the only queer teachers I know, and you’re also just a really good teacher in general… I was wondering if you could help me?”

Jason signalled for him to shuffle over to his side of the desk. He pulled up a few websites on his computer, and began talk about examples of different Greek art that depicted men-loving-men relationships.

They talked for a while, but then Joshua interrupted, pointing to one of the photos on Jason’s desk. “Is that your husband?”

Jason picked up the picture and smiled, “Yes. That’s us at a wedding we went to last spring.” It had been Hazel and Frank’s wedding.

“Woah…” he whispered. He paused, then said, “You know, I’ve always looked up to you. I grew up hearing stories about the Seven demigods who sailed on the Argo II. You’re all huge inspirations.”

Jason nodded at the photograph, “I think so too, that’s why I married one.”

“What was it like… all those months sailing, facing all those terrible monsters?”

Jason remembered back to all those times he’d found Leo crying in the engine room, shivering after a particularly viscous monster attack, a nightmare, or another dirt-formed vision of Gaea. Those tearful nights spent consoling him.

“It… it was hard, especially seeing as we were just teenagers. But at least we had each other.”

Joshua looked at the Rubik’s cube with its self-shuffling sides, “Woah. Did he get you that?”

“He made it, actually. He is one of the best mechanics in the western hemisphere, after all.“

Jason picked it up, fondly, turning it over in his fingers.

The conversation carried on, drifting (as all good conversations do) to Sappho and her poetry. It wasn’t until Jason checked the clock that he realised the time.

“Shit, I gotta meet the Mister for dinner in fifteen minutes. Sorry, Joshua.”

He scribbled down the titles of a few books the kid could borrow from the library, and shouldered his bag. Joshua thanked him and left.

Jason picked up his keys and went to turn off the light. Before he left, he turned and looked at the flowers in the cup. Violets and marigolds. The same flowers they’d had at their wedding. Purple and orange, like the colours of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Leo had an appreciation for a good metaphor.

He turned out the light and left his office, locking the door behind him.

They were one of the first Greco-Roman couples to get married since the camps discovered each other. Their wedding had been a celebration of the merging of both sides. It was becoming more and more commonplace now, but they were in the early stages of creating new traditions between these partnerships.

Jason had always tried to do things a little differently. He’d never liked it when he was told he had to uphold all these “Roman Values” in order to be perfect. He didn’t want to have to fit in a mould. That’s one of the countless reasons why he loved Leo so much. Leo wasn’t perfect. He didn’t try to be. He faked smiles and confidence for survival, but he never stopped being so unapologetically himself while doing it. And when Jason was around him, he couldn’t care less about what people thought he should be. Leo made him a better person because of that.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason thought back to their wedding day again.

He remembered their first dance, to the song “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman. Jason stumbled over his feet a little as they danced. Later that night, Leo had torn up the dance floor doing the Macarena. Jason wondered how Leo had managed to go all night without bursting into flames.

Much parties and drinking ensued. Jason was swamped with guests, congratulating him. He made polite conversation with them all, and was so distracted he didn’t even realise that Leo had left the room.

He felt a quick surge of panic as he searched for him, but it soon subsided when he saw Leo out on the balcony of the wedding venue, looking out at the city. He’d taken off his jacket and it was folded on the rail next to him.

The relief gave way to concern, though, when he saw that Leo was on fire.

Jason walked over to him and leaned on the balcony railing next to him, just out of reach of the flames, “Long day?” He asked, trying not to show the worry in his voice.

“Good day,” Leo replied, smiling at him. Jason instantly relaxed.

“Sorry I left- just had to get away from the crowds and cool off,” Leo nodded at the suit jacket, flames licking his face, “That’s the last time I wear something with heat-suppressing polymers. I had to, for safety and all, but man… it was so stuffy. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” Leo’s chest crackled quietly with the fire in the cool evening air, “Anyway, I needed to decompress. Let some of it out. “

“Understandable. It’s an emotional night.”

“I’m just so incredibly happy, Jason,” Leo said, “It’s hard to keep contained.”

Looking at Leo, Jason felt little zzzts of electricity buzzing through his hair. Yeah, he understood.

“Socialisation is exhausting,” Leo admitted, “Especially when you’re masking. Especially at an intense event like this. But don’t think I’m upset. I’m not. Just a little… overstimulated.”

Jason smiled, “I understand. Take all the time you need. Soon, though, we’ll be off on our honeymoon. Just you and I, alone together.”

Leo closed his eyes at the pleasure of the thought, “That would be nice.”

“Gods, I’m eager to get out of this toga. It’s itchy as heck.”

They exchanged a quick side-eye.

Jason sidled a little closer, careful to keep the fabric of his clothes out of reach of the flames. “I wish I could kiss you,” he said, frowning at the red fire brushing against Leo’s cheek.

“Hold your pegasi, lightning boy! We’re spending the rest of our lives together- there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to kiss me, don’t you worry.”

“I guess you’re right,” Jason replied.

Leo softened, “Your company’s enough for me, amor mio. That’s all I need.”

Jason looked back at the open doorway, at the party in the venue behind them. “Well I should probably get back in there. They’ll be wondering where we are. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re constipated.”

“How very dignified of you.”

Jason looked into Leo’s eyes, his brown irises turning orange in the glittering fire that wreathed his face, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jason went back into the building, looking back at his husband and smiling. Then he proceeded to rejoin the party.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Leo was waiting for him outside the restaurant. He now wore a black suit jacket over his black shirt and suspenders. Jason knew that it had been stolen from his wardrobe. Leo didn’t own many suits.

He’d chosen a table for two under the awning outside the restaurant. Jason kissed him on the cheek when he saw him and sat down across from him. A waitress came over and took their drinks order.

“Umm… Tea, please. Earl Grey.”

“Earl Grey?” Leo said, “That even sounds like a British Grandpa.”

Jason ignored him, “Milk, two sugars please.”

“Hey, whatever floats your trireme, man. And can I have the umm… the umm…” Leo clicked his fingers and scrunched up his face in concentration, “Come on, English!! The… frothy… cow… juice…”

“The what?”

Leo mimed a complicated charade of drinking a certain beverage, which Jason attempted to decipher.

“A… milkshake?”

Leo snapped his fingers and pointed at Jason, “Yes. That. See? I knew I married you for a reason.”

Jason shook his head in disbelief, “I apologise for… whatever that was,” He said to the waitress, “English isn’t his first language.”

“Shut up Valdez," Leo said.

Jason smiled.

The waitress flashed them her customer-service grin and left with their orders. Jason turned to Leo, his perfect Leo, sitting there across the restaurant table just looking perfect. Jason beamed at him.

"What?" Leo asked, upon seeing the cheesy expression on Jason's face.

"Nothing..." Jason said, "So what is it you wanted to talk about?"

Leo ran his hands through his hair. Even after all these years, he still knew how to take the breath out of Jason’s lungs.

“Umm… well, I was thinking hard about that conversation we had a couple months ago, I just haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since…”

“Leo, we’ve had a lot of conversations in the last couple months-“

“The one about having kids! I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes…?” Jason said, dreading what might come next.

“And I’ve decided,” Leo said, twisting the ring around his finger.

Jason held his breath.

“I wanna do it. I want to start a family. At some point. In the future. Not right now, but at some point.”

Jason actually jumped up from his seat. He hugged Leo.

“Oh, Leo, that’s so good to hear!!!”

“Yeah, well… I love you. And I guess, as the son of the God of Creation… I want to create something. With you. Something more than just a Roomba,” he sighed, “I’m not good with organic life forms, but that’s what we do, isn’t it? We face challenges together. We don’t always do things in our comfort zone, but ultimately we risk it for what it’s worth at the end… I dunno, I’m getting cheesy.”

Jason smiled, “I love your cheesiness, Leo.”

Just then, the waitress came back with their drinks and took their dinner orders. Once she left, Jason turned back to Leo.

“You know,” Jason joked, “Since I actually didn’t die fighting Caligula, I’ve always wondered what the Sibyl meant by I will “three letters, starts with D”. I’m guessing, since we re-united after the fight it meant things would eventually lead to “Dad”.”

“Or you’ve been dead this whole time, and this is a delusional Elysium dream,” Leo said in a monotone voice.

“Wh-what?” Jason hurriedly scanned Leo’s face for any sign of a joke, but for some reason he couldn’t quite meet his eyes. They were distorted somehow, like trying to see a monster through the Mist. Fog swirled around the two of them, so Jason lost sight of their surroundings, only Leo’s weirdly blank face. He caught a flash of Leo laughing- a burst between the freakily deadpan expression Leo wore. It was like something had glitched.

Suddenly, the room brightened. They were back in the restaurant, and Leo was looking at him with a curious expression, his brow knotted slightly in concern.

“I didn’t say anything,” Leo said.

“You… You said…” Jason tried to think back to their previous conversation, but his memory of it was somehow distant- like a wound closing from ambrosia.

Leo cocked his head to one side, “You sure you’re alright, Jase?”

Jason blinked, “I’m- I’m fine.” He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. “Long day. Just a little sleep-deprived. Probably hallucinating. What were we talking about, again?”

“Baby names,” Leo reminded him.

“Oh, right.”

“I think Leo Jr is a very strong name for a child,” Leo said, “Imagine, “Leonidas Valdez the Second! Badass Warrior Mechanic!”

“But what if it’s a girl?”

Leo paused for a few seconds, then said “I was thinking… I could name her after my mom?”

Jason frowned, “Names have power though. While I love the sentiment, I don’t think naming your kid after someone who died young is a very good idea.”

Leo sighed, “You’re right.”

“But it’s a lovely thought, though.”

“Yeah…”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason walked into class the next morning.

“Hey, Professor! How’s your twink?”

“He’s not my-“ Jason began, “Well, yes, he is kind of a twink. And he is mine. What’s your point?”

The students laughed.

Jason turned to the projector screen and began to talk, when a student interrupted him.

“Tell us more about your husband, Professor!”

Jason knew this trap. They were trying to de-rail the lesson, get Jason talking about something else and forget to set the homework. If they thought they were gonna get away with not having to learn about Roman History for half a lesson they were wrong. Jason wasn’t gonna fall for their games and tricks.

But oh! He was a sucker for talking about Leo. As much as he wanted to resist, he found himself sinking into a ramble about his husband’s amazingness.

“I mean, he’s only the best thing to come from Huston, Texas. Like, ever. And that includes Beyoncé.”

The entire lecture hall gave a collective gasp of shock.

“You’re not serious, sir?” A student in the front row whispered.

“I am. And I don’t say that lightly either,” Jason may have been raised by wolves, but even he understood Beyoncé’s reverence. “I very much respect Queen Bey and what she does. You know she’s actually a minor goddess now?”

“Really? The gods made her one?” Another student heckled.

Jason shook his head, “No, not the gods. Much like how the Roman Emperors survived for thousands of years because of how much they were worshipped by their subjects, Beyoncé’s cult following has helped her ascend to goddesshood too.”

“Woah…”

“I’d be surprised if the Eras Tour doesn’t do the same thing for Taylor Swift. My husband loves her. We wanna get tickets, but that would mean our kids will never be able to afford to go to college, so… it’s still open for negotiation.”

A student raised his hand, “What other celebrities became gods from their worship?”

“Well,” Jason said, leaning back on his desk, “Have you ever heard of a band called the Beatles?”

Once the lesson had ended, Jason was approached by one of his students. It was Joshua, the kid he’d helped with homework.

“I- I just wanted to thank you for your help, Professor. On the essay. I got a really high grade and I passed my class!”

Jason grinned, “That’s great to hear! I don’t wanna give too much away but I have a feeling you’ll do very well in this class, too.” He tapped the side of his nose, like he was telling some big secret.

Joshua still looked a little nervous, like he had something more to say but wasn’t sure if he should.

“Is everything alright, Joshua?” Jason asked, giving him his kindest smile.

“It’s just… umm… I wanted to thank you for being my favourite teacher. You’re such an inspiring role model… my- my parents, they d-don’t really like the sort of stuff I’m studying… the sort of stuff I was writing that essay about. They’re traditional, see? All about upholding Good Roman Values. But you, being so open about who you are, and about your husband… from someone as heroic and influential as yourself… it meant a lot to me.”

Before Jason knew what was happening, Joshua gave him a quick, tight hug. “Thank you,” the kid whispered. Then he shouldered his backpack, and left the lecture hall.

Jason may or may not have cried a little.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason pushed a button, and a large metal door opened inwards onto Leo’s warehouse. He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing on the hard concrete floor. From the cavernous ceiling hung car engines, machine parts, and large automatons. All around him were cluttered racks, standing shelves, and an assortment of other storage solutions. Jason wove his way through the labyrinthine pathways forged from kicked-aside projects. He was carrying a large take-out bag from the Greek Restaurant across the street from campus. Despite the large open space, there wasn’t much room to walk, so he picked his way apprehensively through the mess, nervous that he might step either on some prized masterpiece, or something explosive.

He spotted Leo’s apprentice, Penny, working the forges in the back of the gigantic space. She was hammering out a sheet of stygian iron, her mousy-blonde hair tied messily out of the way. She wore large welder’s goggles, and oversized Dragon-hide gloves.

He gingerly stepped over machinery and made his way over to her, greeting her with a nod. She stopped hammering, and pushed her goggles onto her head with a gloved finger.

“Where’s your Jedi Master?” Jason asked.

She set her hammer down on a nearby workbench and glanced expectantly at his take-out bag. He reached in, brought out a greasy Tupperware box, un-popped the lid, and handed her one of the dolmades. Her expression didn’t waver, she continued to stare at the bag. Jason rolled his eyes and begrudgingly gave her another one. This seemed to satisfy her. “He’s up on the roof,” she said, popping the stuffed vine leaf into her mouth.

He thanked her, and made his way up the metal spiral staircase that led to the roof.

He found Leo sitting on the roof’s edge, facing away from him. Festus sat next to him on his hind legs, his large metal tail wrapped around him like a cat. They both turned when Jason came up. He walked over to them, patted the dragon’s bronze jaw affectionately, and sat down next to Leo, putting the take-out bag between them. He began to dish out the food. Leo raised an eyebrow at the missing dolmades.

“I had to bribe Penny to tell me where you were,” Jason admitted.

Leo chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. His dark curls bounced in the golden light of the setting sun. “That girl has learned well. Never waste an opportunity to swindle free food.”

“Oh, I see. You taught her that.”

They laughed, kicking their dangling feet off the concrete warehouse walls.

“So how was your day?” Leo asked.

Jason scratched Festus’ chin, absent-mindedly. He thought about Joshua, and about the other kids in his class. He thought about how proud he was of the papers he graded. He thought about the bright young minds. Jason had grown up fighting in the legion. He’d faced untold horrors in order to save the world. So had Leo. And they still were saving it in their own way. By passing his knowledge onto the next generation, he felt safe knowing that the future was in their hands. By teaching his students about demigod life, about Roman History, and also teaching them that it was okay for a tough Roman soldier to love another man, he felt like he was still doing all he could to protect the world, but he’d found a less life-threatening way to do it.

“My day was good,” He told him, “What about yours?”

As Leo talked about his latest commissions, Jason looked around him. He remembered how much Leo had saved up to be able to afford to buy this place. But he needed a place to keep Festus (Terminus had been very particular about where the dragon had been allowed to stay, since he technically counted as a weapon). It had meant their honeymoon was spent in some discount resort in the south of Mexico with a low budget hotel room, drinking cheap wine. Jason wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Leo really did love his machine shop. It had been a dream of his to own one since as long as Jason had known him. He knew that part of that was guilt for burning down the one his mom owned in Texas, that had been in his family for three generations. But Jason could see by the way Leo treated the space that he kept it working to honour his mom. And although Jason had never met Esperanza, he could feel her spirit in the air in this place.

He wondered if she’d be happy for her son that they’d found each other. Jason thought she would. She’d be so proud of Leo- how could she not? Leo was the best thing that had ever happened to Jason. He’d fought tooth and nail to save the world, and now they were living happily in New Rome.

Are we happy? A little voice in the back of Jason’s head said. They still had troubles and hardships ahead of them. Leo still struggled to sleep with the nightmares. Jason still couldn’t say Caligula’s name. People still looked down on Jason for dating the Greek who fired on New Rome. People still gave Jason shit for taking the last name of the man he loved. Queer kids in Jason’s class still struggled to be accepted by their parents. Wars were still happening. Demigods still died. Things might look completely different for them in a few years time. They could be drafted into another fight. They could lose each other. Again.

But they had found their little pocket of peace. The place and time where they could stay. And be happy. Because yes, they were happy.

He sat, side-by side with Leo, looking out at the sunset going from orange to purple to black. He wrapped his arm around his husband’s shoulders. The love of his life. His everything.

He was happy. Despite everything, he was happy. Jason was happy going to work every day, facing whatever there was to be faced, knowing he would come home to Leo at the end.

Jason looked into Leo’s eyes. Leo’s sparkling, dazzling eyes. The freshly-born stars reflected in them as the sky darkened to night. He watched them twinkle in those pupils as they shifted, busily scanning the sky for gods know what. He knew that he was happy, too. They had each other.

Sometimes the fates could be kind that way.

Jason sat on the warehouse roof, watching the stars come out. And he knew, right then and there, that whatever happened, everything was gonna be okay.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Fuuuucckkk this took me ages to write but ohhh my gods-

This is now my longest fic ever and I’ve been obsessed with it for months.

Footnotes/Things I wanna talk about:

One day I realised “Hey, wait! I can make them get married!” And two months and 15K words later (I started writing this on Jason’s bday) here we are.

Penny, Leo’s apprentice- would you wanna see more from her? I know fics with ocs don’t do as well, but it will still mostly focus on Valgrace. I love the idea of talking about my otps from an outsider POV, I can expand on more lore for this universe, and be able to show them just being adorable and cute and fluffy together. Maybe while Leo and Jason are thinking more seriously about kids, Leo tries out his fatherly chops on his apprentice?

No we are not gonna mention Jason’s little “glitch in the matrix” moment back there. Nothing happened, what are you even talking about? [unless you think that would make a good fic to expand upon, I’d be prepared to take a dark route] Just pretend I added that in to explain away any plot-holes.

The “Jason wants to get in touch with his bio family and Leo’s a little sceptical” plot is something I’ve wanted to write about for a while. Particularly as Jason’s whole arc is about finding a place. They’re “The Lost Trio” because each of them are trying to find something. Jason’s trying to find who he is and where he belongs. Leo’s prepared to just settle for any place that won’t shun him for who he is. I fully believe that Leo is perfectly happy just the two of them, whereas Jason’s still on that journey of “what if there’s more of me out there?”. And Leo being Leo, he’d obviously help Jason with that, but he’d remind Jason that he would be loved no matter what, with or without a bio family.

Should I expand on that topic, write a conclusion? I left it a little open-ended and up to the imagination (and bc this fic is already 9k words long as I’m writing this and there are too many plotlines) but it would be something fun to follow up on, maybe giving it it’s own time to properly shine, and get down to the nitty gritty stuff. If the family is good to Jason, Leo would be happy for him but still a little bitter that he never got that chance. If the family is bad to Jason, Jason would struggle with what that means for him (he did a little bit of this in canon when he saw his mom’s ghost in BoO) and Leo would empathise with him, and reassure them that they’re still a family just as them.

I like to cite my sources, so here is the article I found about Ancient Greek wedding traditions in case you’re curious/need inspiration. It was an interesting rabbit-hole.

Also, a lot of this was inspired by @lavenderfairiez’s fic “All I wanted was you” so pls check that out.

Thank you to @xixovart for helping me with the Spanish. I am White As Fuck and British, and I get most of what I know of Latin American culture from In The Heights, so I apologise if I’ve gotten things wrong (I also used google translate for some).

I found I ended up making Jason speak Spanish a lot more than Leo- I feel like Jason is definitely more of an “endearing pet names” kinda guy, wheras Leo is the “fucking ruthless character assassinations” kinda guy. I also have this hc that Jason absolutely LOVES to speak Spanish to Leo, and does it at every opportunity. He thinks of it as “Leo’s language” and adores the fact that he can speak it now, because him and Leo are together, and that makes him so fucking happy.

Jason thinks Leo is just the best thing to ever happen to existence, and I love that.

Lot o’ thoughts about wedding vows, and the theme of promises for Valgrace and PJO in general. I’ve already made a post about it here

Leo is autisic. I feel like that had to be said bc it fuels a lot of my writing choices for this fic. Also I love it. Jason is so accommodating for his needs. They both look after each other and I love that for them.

I have WAY more where that came from. I have a timeline, a backstory, and, like, ten other fic ideas set in that universe. I have AUs of this AU. I have concept art. I have headcanons.

Please let me know what bits of this you enjoyed best, so that I can get a good idea of what to write next.

Page dividers made by me. I spent ages on them and I’m really proud of them so I might reblog with a few close-ups.

Tagging my usual fanfic/Valgrace peeps: @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @imnoturfriend-im-a-swiftie13 @euryvices @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @keefessketchbook @frankzhang-appreciation-posts @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone in the Valgrace community- any hcs or posts that inspired me. You guys are just the best.

99 notes · View notes

manicrouge · 9 months

Text

An Ode to Serelia

[𝟷𝟾+, 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸] || Part Two

[𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 01/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Displeased is the siren who weeps, a sister stolen leading to her finding the man who helps her to her feet.

[𝙲𝚠]: blood, graphic violence, torture, gore, body horror, violence, character death, murder, loss of a parent, angst, mention of suicidal thoughts, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, inexperienced!reader, possessive!Simon

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 23,720

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 If you're intrigued in the music I listened to writing, there's a link to the spotify playlist, enjoy !!

[𝙰/𝙽]: HIIII !! This is the story I mentioned the other day on my blog, it's here, it's written (hopefully to a decent standard) and it was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have fun reading it !! Also I did change up the appearences of sirens a little for the sake of being #unique and #different. Greek mythologies version would have been interesting, though I'm unsure how exactly a bird with the head of a woman would translate into a cod fanfiction so please forgive my creative liberties.

Also, there may be the possibility for a part two cause I have an idea if you would like that pls let me know!!

Comments are always appreciated, please let me know what you think... unless you think it's the worst thing you've ever read, then tell me, but in a nicer way pls, i.e. 'bless you, you tried' or 'hmmm, I've read better, good try though!'

(I'm very sensitive).

HAVE FUN!!

P.s. Rhymezone and me were besties while i was writing this. Also I figured out how to make the text tiny... I'm learning guys!!! And sorry for it being so long, tumblr was literally lagging near the end of writing this whoops.

Also!!! Share any request you have for me in my 'Ask me anything'!! I'd be happy to write more alt aus with different characters :))

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Illuminated in the night, entranced by the tide, the sailors always come to you, such a mistake they make, too little too late, for they can never ever run. Foolish mortal men, sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den, for a woman in the sea is never just a friend.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

In the dead of night, you awake to a glow. It's seemingly stretching out its arms, calling out to you.

The orange light bends and warps with the movement of the sea, the rolling waves and glaring light for the moon creating a mixture of light which creates a celestial shimmer on the scales on your tail, reflecting off of your black eyes as you turn your head up in its direction.

The muscle in your chest is pounding, muffled words running through your ears as you keep your eyes trained on the light pushing its way from the shore all to make its way to you.

A full moon is never a good thing, although, submerged in the depths of the sea, you find it difficult to make out the shape of the glowing orb in the sky.

Her light confirms your worst fear, though, your eyes struggle to make anything out.

Even at night, the coral surrounding your bed is sleeping, nature reserving its strength for another troublesome day of battling against the grubby hands of the legged folk who rule both land and sea with an iron fist.

'Don't go meddling with the folks of the land, my dear, for trouble is the only thing ye shall find.'

It's the lesson of your mother which courses through your mind, like a shock of adrenaline through the body, a dopamine which has your hands trembling while sitting in quiet contemplation.

Land folk are dangerous, maniacs who believe they can possess the land and all that walks upon it.

To own the world, you would have to be mother nature herself, even then, her presence is discounted for because one of the land folk has in abundance what she lacks: golden coins.

You're familiar with these things, these little circular items they carry on their being, sometimes in small leather pouches, recalling a few of them being in the pockets of silly sailors who though they had the right to the place you and your sisters called home.

During their time spent, they toyed with the land as though she herself can not feel, taking and taking, so much so, you feared your initial silence to their actions would have resulted in you being damned for an eternity.

They massacred most of the fish, took your food as though it was theirs to take, discounting the creatures in the surrounding water. Greedy were the city folk, both of these golden things and your food, so, you followed the rule your mother had introduced.

Holding you on her lap, she looked at you and your delicate little frame, placing her hand against the wound on your tail.

Blood drifted in the the water, swirling with the current of the water and you sniffled in your mothers lap.

How terrible the wound was, throbbing as she plucked seaweed from out of the ground, using it to cover the cut.

The wound had been the fault of the land folk; they mistook you for a fish you supposed, though your little mind really didn't care to stop and acknowledge the truth of what happened.

The hook they had caught your tail with sat beside your mother and as she picked it up, she held it before you, watching as your eyes grew wide, nearly bulging from out of your little head as you began to squirm on her lap. What a monstrous little thing that contraption was, causing such hurt when it was the size of seashell. Keeping it in your view, she shushed you, opening her mouth, showing you her pointed teeth as she cupped your face with her other hand.

'My poor Urchin,' she lamented, 'it can do no harm now; it's not in the hands of the city folk, it's in mine,' she soothed, yet, despite her words you found that your throat was clogged as you recalled the morphed faces of the men who had caught sight of you when you had been caught.

'Is it because we hurt the bad people that they're doing this to the ocean?' you quietly asked, choking out your words as the gills either side of your neck opened.

It felt as though the hook had been stuck in your throat, ripping the insides as you struggled to the words out while sitting on your mothers lap. 'Are we bad people, mama?'

'No dear, we protect the sea and do the job the Lord made for us, it is the folks on her back who are the bad people, we're submerged in her soul, you see, keeping her from harms way and the cruel games of the true beasts,' she firmly stated, 'we hide from the enemy, covered in the current of what gives life to take the lives of those who are much too greedy for this world,' she lectures, 'so you mustn't pity the land folk; if they stray too far from their home and into yours, it is your duty to keep them away.'

'Even if we hurt them?'

'A lesson taught, is a warning sent, my dear,' she sweetly said, 'for a thieves broken neck is easy to repent.'

You acted that day as your mother had intended all those years ago: cruel, brutal, and unforgiving.

By the time you had finished, the water surrounding you was branded with their blood.

You gasped and choked, spitting out chunks of sailor from out of your teeth, plucking chunks of their cotton shirt out of your mouth the remains of a fish bone; it was far too stuck for you to use your nails, no matter how sharp they are.

You cleaned your teeth, watching as the bodies with their organs descended to the bed of the ocean with their gold coins in your hands while their pockets were filled with stones.

It was payment for their crimes and in death, they paid you to keep their bodies down, away from their families, for, you thought of the children on the coast.

They very well may be human, but they are undeserving of seeing one of their own in such a way.

You felt little when as you watched them sink, and upon reflection, all you ever feel is remorse for your silence.

Had you acted sooner, well, you suppose it would have saved you a trip to the deeper part of the ocean when hunting for food.

In the midst of your exhaustion you find your thoughts again, realising in your moment of contemplation, the little light grew closer to the edge of the coast.

Placing your hands against rocks, you push yourself from out of your reserved mellow cove, cocking your head to the side as you reach your hand outwards toward an orange fleck of light which greets you with open arm.

Exiting the cave, a flurry of bubbles pour pass your lips as their chants grow louder, as though they too are underwater.

Your pointed ears twitch as you push forwards through the water.

Your eyes are heavy as you push through the water, growing closer and closer to the source of the light, the sudden shift in the brightness causing them to sting.

You keep your eyes on the mysterious glow, rubbing your face with your hand, the long nail on your pointer finger catching the edge of your lip. Hissing, you watch as a faint trail of rouge seeps from your mouth, pressing the tips of your finger into the wound. Still, your eyes are unmoving, much too interested in the glowing beyond on the water.

Then, you hear voices.

It's the voice of humans, their low grumbles, cheers and chants causing the water surrounding you to vibrate from their ferocious tongues.

'I found one papa!'

Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.

Whatever they have found is not for their hands, you sure of that much, and your stomach grows weary.

Oh, what catastrophe are they going to muster tonight? What are they going to use for sacrifice?

Your throat begins to knot, its as though someone is pressing their hands around the gills on you neck as your mind races.

One by the ocean is one of your own. Who else would have landed up on the shore? But it can't be, no it mustn't be; they're smarter than that.

No one else is awake at this hour, you have the consciousness of only yourself and the land folk.

Why would an Urchin be so far out that the spliced fingers of man could get to her?

No, they're in their caves, keeping their ears out for the horn of a ship, or perhaps the merry song of a sailor.

As you break the surface of the water, the waves of the ocean brush against your head, rain pouring from out of the sky, The breeze against your skin rendering you breathless.

You're guilty of feeling a crude interest take hold of you as you peer towards the sure, before ultimately deciding to succumb to temptation, following through your curiosity in the hopes to find what has caused such a disturbance.

It's difficult to see, your eyes are trained for the sea, you have little experience on land and the light above is much harsher than the gentle streams beneath the surface.

As you push forward, keeping most of your body underwater, your ears are greeted with more howling.

Their's excitement seeping from off of their tongues, they're bemused with their discovery.

Perhaps it's one of their rituals; you've found, through the time you have been watching them, they're terribly fond of the sacrifice of their own. Their disregard for the very thing they grew from is disheartening, a reflection of their characters.

Their form of sacrifice is truly despicable, against the order of nature, but they do not care for their own. One could be starving at a table full of food, the very table they set, yet, forbidden from touching a single thing all because of another's self importance.

Yet, it is you and your kind who are the monsters.

It's at times like this you long for your mother.

But, with the rain battering the backs of the humans as they form a circle around their special find, you find both her absence and the shyness of the moon leaves crude goosebumps covering your body as you shift in the water.

'MONSTERS,' a silk tone calls as you grow closer and closer, yet, you are forced to stop; the tide is upset, the moon displeased at such a display of savagery.

The thing in your chest stops, your webbed hands forming fists as you crane your neck forward.

'Monsters you are! Let me go,' the voice cracks as more cheering ensues.

'Cover her mouth,' demands one, 'keep her from singing her murderous song; her voice is as sweet as honeysuckle and it is her barbed tongue which has taken our brothers from us, and we will not let it take us! This is for the men we have lost to the creatures of the sea!'

You watch as the waves grow stronger, the rain landing with a slosh against the sea.

It's difficult to keep yourself in one place, both the fire in your chest and the shoving formation of the water urging you to go forward. You know her tone, though it is shredded and brutal as she speaks, unlike the sweet songs you savour.

Serelia.

'No!' she screams, ripping her vocal cords as you see a webbed hand appear from the circle of bodies, blood dripping from down a wound you spy on her shoulder.

Gripping the sand on the shore, the waves from the water brushing against the tips of her fingers and you feel the crashing body of water forcing you forward.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to—'

Opening your mouth, you will a tune to escape you, to pull them away from her to give her time to return to her home. Only, your much too choked up as water floods your mouth, the foul weather proving to work in mans favour.

Pushing yourself further up, you open your mouth, letting out a ghastly wrench as a sudden flood of coldness fills your veins, pulling at your tongue, keeping it pressed against the bottom of your mouth. Your lips quiver from the temperature as you attempt to pry a tune from out of your clogged up mouth.

'I- Illuminated—' you swallow another mouthful of water.

Her hand disappears.

You watch as a hand grabs her wrist, hearing her squeal and scream.

The circle of bodies disperses as you see the ends of her tail held in the forearms of a man.

There's a fire in your eyes, a fire enough to leave the sea bloody as your scaled skin and blackened eyes catch a patch of red staining the sand.

The sea betrays you as it sweeps up, carrying away grains of the red sand as the land folk hold their torches up in celebration as blood drips down onto the sand, the ruined blue scales of your sister turning purple in the light of the moon with the mixture of blood which pours from her wounds.

You watch in horror, hands slapping against the water as you look towards the moon nestled in the sky, peering down at you.

In the light of Luna, you recall her face.

Her innocent little face, doe eyes, cheery grin, how her nose would crinkle at the slightest accusation whenever she had done something particularly troublesome. The colour of her tail, how she looked when she sat upon the rocks singing her merry songs for the passersby to listen to.

A gift for the men she was, a gift spoiled by their grubby, wretched hands.

A sister as such spoke with a silk tongue, cohesive, one of your most prized possessions. A chest of jewels from horrid humans simply never compared to the life of one of your own, nothing.

Not even their dastardly golden coins.

Your head grows light as you keep your eyes trained on the humans marching forward, the light from the sticks they carry in their hands growing weary in the distance as the wind grows stronger. It's all too much, the sight of one of your own, the knot in your throat keeps you from gulping down necessary gulps of air. You feel nauseous, an icy chill freezing the blood in your veins.

Sinking back to the depths, your hand is forced and you're kept away from the dreary sight as the current drags you back under.

In the warped complexion of the surface, you see the moon still staring at you and you bark out in fury, 'you backstabber,' you roar, 'I saw my mother in you and you have betrayed our own for keeping you safe,' you continue onwards in your fury, your face contorting as you point up towards the surface.

'She has done nothing, as innocent as an Urchin can be, and you take her? Why not me?'

The current grows displeased.

'We give our lives, all our lives... my mothers,' you heave, placing a hand against your chest, 'I know not the secrets of the land, I don't possess the means to go upon the surface, how- how do we get her back? Why? Why would you take her and not me?' you choke out.

She shifts in colour, you spy her eyes growing red as you look upwards at her. 'She does not deserve to be a part of their game, neither did my mother,' you cry, 'take me, I'm offering myself up, leave her—'

There's a pull in the current, the rolling waves above the surface plunging downwards with a spiralling head.

You meet the eye of the storm, bubbles escaping your mouth as you bring your hands to cover your face. It hooks you, pulling you into as a ton of water comes crashing down into the small pocket of air you have become trapped in.

The last thing you catch before you're senses are flooded with darkness is the red glint in Luna's eye before you descend into the abyss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's with the crude calls of village folk that he leaves his post.

There have been some form of disturbance for the past couple of nights, and after the first ending him standing on the shore of the town, his eyes being battered with the wind and sea, he found he has little interest in part-taking in the games of the fools. Fortunately, as he raises from his post, peering from out the window, he hears a shift behind him.

His eyes are unmoved by the chaos beyond the warning, his lids only lifting when he catches a child rushing ahead of the crowd of people.

His words are lost in the hollers of the crowd, though, he bounces with such excitement, the type that can only be likened to when a child gets money for chocolate, or even a new toy.

Only, he's acting as though he has won the biggest and best chocolate bar, his little head bobbing as he bounds down the cobble streets, his hand wrapping firmly around an elder mans wrist, tugging him along eagerly.

From behind him, he hears the scrape of a chair and a weary sigh. 'Another call for me? Swear, they cause mischief in the dark they do,' he comments with a hearty chuckle.

Turning away from the window, the red glow from the fire on the end of their torches lights emits an orange light in the room, though, the man before him is covered as stray arms of light stretch beyond his bulky frame, merely able to catch even the side of the man with a mohawk's face.

'Has Price told y' what they're up to? It's been every fuckin' night for weeks straight,' he asks, tugging down the edge of his mask, tilting his neck either side, a crude snap emitting as he does so.

The man standing in front of him offers him a toothy grin, crossing his arms over his chest with a short nod. Muscles bulge against the white cotton clinging to his frame and he readies himself by undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, pushing the sleeves to the crease of his forearms.

'Apparently, they're lookin' for merfolk or somethin', y'know what Captains like, doesn't 'ave the time for stupid shit like this,' he explains, 'read too many fuckin' fairytales if y' ask me. Couple ships disappear off of the coast and they believe a fuckin' fish did it?' He breaks out into a spell of roaring laughter. 'They call 'em sirens.'

'Sirens?'

'Aye,' nods the slightly shorter man, rubbing the stubble on his face with his hand. 'Sirens,' he adds, 'lore men to their deaths with their songs they do, supposedly, prettier than any lass on the land... sounds like a story written by a man, eh? Beautiful bonnie's with a good throat on em', paradise if y' ask me,' he proceeds to laugh even harder at his own joke, kneeling over as he does so.

It takes a brief moment for him to realise the masked man standing before him is unmoved by his comments.

Awkwardly, he comes to a sudden stop as he peers up at the man, slowly adjusting his posture, using his hands against his knees to steady himself as he notes the red lights behind him have disappeared.

'Suppose I should go and fetch them back,' he quietly grumbles, 'keep an ear out though, won't ya, Ghostie? Needa make sure they don't try n' sacrifice me to the sirens!'

'Affirmative,' he says briefly, turning his attention away from him, listening to his footsteps against the floorboards as he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets. 'Johnny,' he calls out.

The footsteps stop.

'Doesn't count if I find out y' went into the water to find them yourself,' he warns, looking over as the man nods his head, 'I'll drag you back in and sacrifice y' myself.'

'Gonna take more to get rid of me than that, Lt,' he answers, pushing the door open, 'throw a pint of ale in the sea, an' maybe, just maybe you'd get what y' want,' he laughs, walking out of the door with his hand pressing on the handle of the sword sitting at his waist.

The taller man stands and watches as he disappears into the dead of night, shaking his head in his direction.

'Fuckin' hell,' he grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to the chair he'd perched himself upon, grabbing the dagger he had set down onto the table, grabbing the cloth sitting beside it before kicking his feet back up onto the table, watching as Johnny disappears past the window, heading towards the crowd of chaos.

Turning his attention back to the dagger, he eyes himself in the refection, noting the redness of his eyes before rubbing the cloth over its smudge surface. 'Lost their fuckin' mind, can never excuse shit in a reasonable,' he grumbles to himself, 'better chance of Price quitin' smoking than there is the chance of fuckin' sirens,' he continues on, lifting his head when the candle perched on his desk flickers.

'Bloody lunatics.'

As he sat in the silence of the station, he finds his mind wandering. It's unusual for his mind to ever really escape him, although, with the sight of that little boy jumping up and down in such a manner he finds it difficult to shake a niggling feeling which is poking and prodding at his temple.

His excitement was evident, that much was obvious the longer he focuses on the memory.

If such is the case, if there is truly something behind the little boys excitement, he's there, sitting on his ass, doing absolutely nothing while the man is left to deal with everything to come from whatever has been found. There's something different about the tone of the people, he sees it well.

Terror trickles in, one head at a time, passing by the window in a manic flurry.

At first, he doesn't notice, far too interested in the blade he'd pulled from the sheathe resting on his belt to see the chaos unfolding beyond the window of the station. Their words a muffled, and they seem distant as he eyes the popped blood vessels in the white of his eyes. Moving the metal closer to his masked face, he narrows his eyes, rubbing the cloth over the blade again.

The door bursts open, and while unnerved, outwardly he remains still, snapping his head around.

The man who had left no more than fifteen minutes ago is back, his face wind swept and pale as he heaves out heavy breaths, keeping his arm firmly against the door.

His white shirt is soaked through to the skin, the pinkness of his flesh peeking out from under the fabric, his calf high boots marked with wet sand, crunching as he steps a single foot into the Station, not daring to take one more.

It's easy to read his face, though he finds his brow creasing as he realises that the very look on his face is fear.

Immediately he stands up from his seat, the flame of the candle beside him flickering as he does so. Tossing the cloth onto the table, he sheathes his knife, grabbing his coat from off of the back of his chair, throwing it over his shoulders.

'What?' he asks, 'a fight break out or somethin'? Look like you've seen a ghost,' he breaths.

Johnny doesn't offer him a response for a moment, only looking up towards him with wide eyes, unable to pick his jaw up from off of the ground.

'Fucks sake, Johnny, what—'

'Siren,' he says quietly.

It's difficult to catch what he says with the rain hitting the window and street beyond the office. His lips curve into a crooked smile beneath his mask as he shakes his head.

Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?

The expression on his face doesn't change, even when he hears the small laugh escaping the confines of his mask.

'A lass was on the shore n' she has a fuckin' tail!' he exclaims, pushing himself up after catching his breath, 'tail blue as the sea, eyes black as the void... they bloody exist.'

'And where is she now? She go back into the water to swim off with her friends, hm?' he asks, 'ride away on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead and wings too?' he scoffs, shrugging his jacket off, only for a hand to reach out, grabbing his forearm.

'Still on the beach.'

'The beach?'

'Aye.' he says, 'ran as fast as I could, woke Price 'n Kyle up, 'told them they had to get to the beach quick. If they keep hold of her, they're gonna kill her- she's a bloody mess, cryin' and screamin'.'

He pinches himself to make sure he's still awake while staring at the soaked man. In no way can he find a single thought in his mind at this moment to make anything make sense.

In fact, he feels a prickling heat flooding his flesh the longer he stands and processes what has just been relayed to him.

They're real, they're real and they have found one.

Despite the implications, it's difficult for him to miss the worry in his tone, and while what they deem to be a monster has just appeared off the coast of Lakekeep, he's still worrying about its safety.

'We have to go, they're gonna kill 'er, Ghost.'

Fixing his coat, he looks down at the dagger resting at his hip, giving a short nod as the man lets go of his arm.

'Price and Gaz followin' along?' he asks.

'Aye, didn't believe me at first,' confesses the man with a short laugh, 'still can't believe it meself and I've seen it with my own eyes,' he says, stepping back out into the rain.

Ghost follows after him, slamming the door of the Station shut as the head down the cobbled path, their boots splashing in the puddles forming in the tight streets as the rain hits the ground harder.

Their chants carry through the village, washing over the usual silence like a tidal wave, flooding his senses with cries and pleads.

As they edge closer, he can hardly believe it as a woman's voice bellows out, 'MONSTERS!'

It's brittle and broken the way she cries, and oddly, he feels that the voice tugs at his heartstrings.

'Mustn't listen to her speak, Lt,' he says, 'what they said is true, apparently the boy found her on the shore and when he approached her, he heard her hummin' a tune- said it had him in a trance,' Johnny says, looking to him.

'Monsters you are! Let me go!'

Stepping down off of the stone steps, the pair of the pursued the scene, hearing stray voices fall from out of the crowd, demanding that her mouth be covered in order for them to fulfil some form of revenge. Watching on, he catches the appearance of a bloody webbed hand poking out from the crowd, landing against the shore with a wet slap.

It's as though she's reaching out for something.

Following the line of her forearm, he watches as the sea climbs up the shore, touching the tips of her fingers as she continues to scream and cry.

Moving his attention from off of the beach, he looks to the water, eyeing the crashing waves as the wind sweeps the fabric of his long black coat to the side. The water is restless, and with the rain pouring from the black sky, it's difficult to make much out that isn't just raging water.

Although, in the glow of the torches which whip and wind in the wind, the light covers a fair distance beyond land, and he spots something in the water. In the darkness, it's difficult to make out more than a silhouette of what appears to be a human head. Only, after another crashing wave, he catches sight of pointed ears either side of the head.

Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.

'No!'

The scream from the centre of the crowd rips him out from his trance as he turns his head, following after Johnny.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to us. Please, let me go!' she screams with all her might, her voice piercing to the ears of everyone in the surrounding area.

The crowd dips as they shift, covering their ears with a harsh wince.

Finally, she's unveiled to him.

A gash in her head is pouring blood down her bare breasts as she fights and writhes against the hold of the hold of the men who keep her captive. Her ginger hair is matted and covered with the blood and sand, as is the rest of her body.

The slits on the side of her neck, similar to the ones on a fishes body open and close as she lets out muffled cries.

His eyes trail further down her battered body, the sight of a blue tail stained with blood greeting his gaze. In the light, it appears almost purple as the blood mixes with the shimmer of her scales.

Screwing her eyes shut, she fights with all the fury in her being, and as he watches her, he feels the same heat he felt at the station creeping back onto him, and despite the harshness of the weather, the warmth beaming from his skin is enough to keep him from shivering.

'Alright, move out of the fuckin' way!'

It's the voice of his Captain bursting through the chaos of the surrounding area.

Turning to look over his shoulders, he catches sight of Price and Gaz walking down the beach, and with ease, Price holds his hands up, his words catching the attention of the the booming crowd.

Silence falls upon them, the sirens cries mixing with the crashing sound of the ocean. The man moves past both himself and Johnny, Gaz standing between the pair of them as he parts the crowd with an astonishing ease.

The gasp that passes his lips when making it to the centre is enough to make even his blood run cold.

There's a moment of silence, the sound of the torches whipping against the wind as he keeps his eyes trained on the back of his Captains head.

Clearly, the cogs are turning, expecting what Johnny had told him to be that of a stupid joke, only, it isn't.

It's real and it's squirming around on the ground, staring Price right in the eyes.

'She's a murderer!' a voice shouts from the crowd, 'her and her people, she said it herself,' the continue on, fury carrying their tone past the cries of the woman on the ground.

Price continues to look at her, and as he looks over his shoulder, catching his eye, he turns back to the woman on the ground.

'Take her in,' he says with a firm nod, 'we'll put her in a cell in the Station for now, figure out what to do with her later,' he continues, looking at the two men who held her arms, 'carry her back to the Station,' he rules, resting his hands on his hips as he observes all the other faces in the crowd, 'as for the rest of y', funs over for tonight, get back home,' he demands.

'We'll take it from here. '

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake with a brittle moan.

Your mouth is full of send, a dull ache radiating from your chin as your forehead creases when you look ahead of yourself. You teeth bite down on the sand in your mouth, a disgusting crunch causing you to wince.

Memories are stubborn, not wanting to come back to you, only allowing you to recall the sight of blood on the beach and the crashing waves around you.

With a grunt, you attempt to push yourself up off of the ground, a grunt escaping you as your breasts push against the sand. Tearing your eyes from off of the beach in front of you, you shiver as you feel the water wash up, brushing against your limbs.

Looking to your hands, a startled gasp escapes you as you hold one out in front of your face. No longer are they webbed, no, instead, your fingers are separated. Curling your hand around the dark sand before you, you clench it in your fists, watching as it poured past it. Your hips ache as you shift, placing your cheek back against the sand.

Your head is spinning, you can't think of a single thing aside from the fact that your mouth is dry, horrifically dry.

You muster up what little spit you can, expelling grains of sand as the spit clings the your bottom lip, dribbling down the side of your mouth.

The water moves further up, and as you go to move your tail, you're startled by the sound of footsteps on the beach beside you, only, you're too tired to even check who it is.

I've failed as a sister, so if I must go out like this, then I will.

'Ma'am! Oh fuck, ma'am, are you okay?'

The tone is light, different to what you expected to hear counting you have washed up onto the very same coast you had seen Serelia on the night before... if it was even the same day as her disappearance, that is.

The sand crunches beside you as a shadow looms over you, keeping you from the brutal beams of the sun, a hand pressing against your shoulder.

Picking your head up, you muster out a pained whimper as you look at the man in front of you. Concern is etched on his brow as he stares down at you, shrugging off a piece of clothing, resting it against your shoulders.

Your eyes are narrow as you keep your eyes trained on him, unable to look anywhere else as he carefully places his hand against your cheek.

'Can you tell me your name?' he gently asks.

You swallow hard, your chapped and cracked lips pressing together.

Your eyes grow heavy.

You hear another curse under his breath as exhaustion rattles your body. Your head falls heavy and his hold on you slips away, gently placing your head back against the ground. You hope he leaves you be, allows the sea to swallow you whole so you can be with your own once again.

Two firm hands press against your shoulders, gently guiding so you're lying on your back.

His shadow keeps the sun from you once again as he scoops you up into his arms, keeping a firm grip around your shoulders and tail. his hand slips slightly as he uses his jacket to cover your breasts, and you shift when you feel his hand move lower, being extra cautious to cover up your tail.

His breathing is rough as he rushes up the beach with you in his arms, every step causing you to shift or hiss.

'Sorry, love,' he softly apologises, pulling you closer. You note how his pace slows upon him noticing the pain he's causing you by running, 'do you know where we are?' he asks, looking down at you.

Cracking your eyes open, the back of your neck burns as you attempt to look back at him. Poking your tongue past your lips, sand scrapes against the back of your throat as you open your mouth, all for a hoarse croak to escape your lips.

'Have to get you somethin' to drink,' he says firmly, 'you're okay now, love, I promise,' he reassures, pulling you closer to him.

You muster up a short 'hm', resting your head against his chest, listening to the little muscle in it thumping as he heads up the stairs, taking your further away from the beach.

The pair of you remain in silence and you hear the passing giggles and whispers of passersby as he keeps you against him.

You're unsure of what they're saying, though you're sure they're most likely laughing at your tail.

It's surprising hearing such a humorous reaction from them, figuring they would respond in a similar manner to how they did when you had heard Serelia screaming on the shore.

Mustering up a grunt, you flinch as your body is lightly pressed into a door. It squeals as it opens, and the very first thing you hear is a booming voice. It causes the dull ache in your head to worsen as you flinch.

'Am tellin' ye, it's straight out of a fuckin' fairytale it is,' booms the voice, 'can y'—'

There's silence.

Your eyes crack open as you observe the room you're in.

It's different to home, there's a rich smell, similar to the smoke from the lights on the beach.

'Found her on the beach,' confesses the man holding you, 'Johnny, go get some water, please,' he asks, 'she's got a mouthful of sand, she can hardly speak.'

There's a short answer, you can't quite hear it, as he moves you further into the room, setting you down.

Your damp hair hits the plush fabric of a pillow and something is pulled over your body. It's light, harmless.

'Where was she?' asks an unfamiliar voice. It's low, his accent is thick and as you turn your head to the side, you note the man has a thick brown beard, his hair quite short. Stepping towards you, he rests his large hand on your forehead. 'She's burning up.'

'She was near the same spot as last night where that... siren was,' he says.

It's as though life is breathed into you as you quickly sit up, ignoring the dizziness wrecking your mind. The man quickly pulls his hand from off of your forehead, moving it to your shoulder. 'Calm down, love,' he gently instructs, looking to the man standing beside you, 'you reckon she was attacked by it?'

'Could have been; she seems shaken,' he confirms.

Confusion hits you as you lift your tail, only to find that is has vanished.

As you lift your legs, a distraught gasp escapes you as you catch sight of legs.

Two legs- the same as the three men in the room have.

Quickly, you slap your hands to the side of your ears, your chest heaving as you realise your ears have shrunk, resembling that of the legged folk. Everything seems to come tumbling down in front of you, your head pounding as your eyes begin to sting.

'Hey, hey, you're fine,' hushes the man who found you on the beach. The door opens again and a cup of water is handed to him. Taking a seat beside on the bed beside you, he brings to the cup to your mouth. 'Have a drink,' he instructs.

You want to tell him no, to demand to know what they have done to her, yet, you know you can't do anything until you have something to drink.

So, you press your dry lips against the rim of the cup, allowing him to pour it into your mouth. The feeling is euphoric, unlike any sensation you've ever dreamt of, and you eagerly swallow down mouthful after mouthful of water, taking the cup in your own hands.

You're aware of the eyes on you, but you don't care, drinking from the cup until it is empty. With heaving breaths, your wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, keeping tight hold of the cup.

A hand settles against your knee, and as you look back up, the man who was sitting in the corner is now standing behind the two closest to the bed. You note the man who brought you water has an odd haircut, while the much taller man's face is completely covered aside from his eyes.

It's strange, the fabric of a thick hood pulled over is head, his eyes peering through the holes of a skull.

Is that real?

'Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you,' says the brown-haired man, squeezing your bare shoulder.

You look at him with your lips pressed together, bringing the cup closer to you as you swallow hard.

Despite his caring words, you find yourself unable to open your mouth- unable to trust him. He's going to hurt you if he finds out what you are, then what? You're forever bound to their land?

'What's the last thing you can remember before you washed up on shore?' he asks.

You look at him with beady eyes, and the man with his hand on your knee pats you gently, 'you're safe here, we're not gonna hurt you,' he reassures. 'You seemed panicked when we mentioned the mermaid, does it have something to do with her- or more of them?'

Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.

Confirmation that she was the thing that put you in such danger will surely be a death sentence- if she isn't already dead. Living with that on your consciousness is a horrid thought to even think of, so, you distance yourself away from creating an accusation, though you find yourself in trouble as you realise how you reacted to the mention of her.

Essentially, you've acted on impulse and no matter the response, you're unsure if it's going to suffice.

'I- I...' you begin, your throat burning as you bring your hand up to clasp it, 'I was on a ship,' you answer, 'I remember it in water- b- but then there was a storm,' you explain, your voice choppy and broken as you rub your hand up and down your throat finding that even your gills have disappeared. 'The siren,' you begin, clearing your throat, 'she tried to help me.'

'Help you?' mutters the one with a strange haircut. 'How'd she do that, lass?'

'I- I was stuck,' you say, 'I couldn't get out an' she tried to, uh, pull me out,' you explain, 'but she got hurt- it might not even be the same one but... there was one, a good one,' you explain, gulping hard as the masked man standing beside the man with his hand on your shoulder shifts on his feet, his eyes burning into your flesh, the sunken eyes behind the skill mask leaving goosebumps on your flesh.

He's harsher than last nights current.

Keeping your eyes trained on the man, you observe him as he peers down at you, his built frame making you feel small. Most definitely, you do not want to get on his bad side; he could probably crush you with one hand.

'Couldn't have been the same mermaid,' he answers, his tone causing your chest to almost rattle, 'took an entire night for you to even wash up here, you wouldn't have survived if it was her,' he notes, the others around you shaking their heads in a collective agreement.

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, you feel blood coursing through your veins as you look up at him with teary eyes.

Your bottom lip protrudes as water begins to pour from your eyes. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, and, despite your burning eyes, you find the sensation oddly relieving.

You throat grows tight as you sharply inhale, allowing the cup to rest against the covers as you press the tips of your fingers into your cheeks.

A hiccup escapes your lips as your mouth trembles, all the misery of being lost and having lost escaping you in a cathartic sob that causes your entire body to shake.

'I- I don't know where I am, I- I'm scared,' you confess as more water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets, clinging on, only for their grip to fall loose as you blink, releasing more fresh streams onto your flesh.

Releasing a hand off of your shoulder, the man stationed beside you looks to the man who has his hand on you knee, 'you think you can go and get her some clothes? Poor things on show for the entire village to see,' he says. The man purses his lips for a moment, 'she's gotta have something that she doesn't want.'

'Has so many fuckin' dresses she won't even notice one has gone missing,' he says, standing up from off of the bed, 'I'll go and try and find something, as long as I don't take her cyan one I don't think she'll be too bothered,' he shrugs, 'keep an eye on her for me, won't you?' he asks, looking at the three.

The man with the peculiar haircut places his hand against his shoulder, patting it, 'she's in the best hands of the entire village,' he reassures, 'go an' find the lass some clothes, Gaz, we'll kep 'er safe,' he promises.

Gaz. What an odd name.

The rest of their conversation is lost on you as you're far too caught up in the tightness in your chest and the sounds of the screams you heard on the beach the night before to even think about anything else.

Only, when the door shuts, you startle at the sound of the slam, snapping your head up.

'MacTavish, I need you on patrol today,' says the brown-haired man. The disappointment on his face is notable as his eyebrows curl, 'everyone's on edge with the entire mermaid incident, the last thing I need I people trying to cause more trouble or almost drownin' going to find one of their own,' he says, 'speaking 'f which, need to go and check on her myself, make sure the head wound isn't goin' green,' he huffs, turning to the masked man standing behind him. 'Keep an eye out on her,' he states, turning his attention back to you.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to bathe in your emotion as you come to terms with the fact that she's alive.

Your eyes meet with his, your heart burning at the sight of pity burning in his gaze.

If things were any different, you very well would have wiped the soft smile off of his face, but you look at your options and his uniform, likening it to one your mother had described to you in the past.

'They like to think they have control, dress up in clothes just to make the isolation of their species more capable,' she explained while sitting in upon one a rock. You accompanied her, looking at her. She had such knowledge of the world beyond the water that you were simply awestruck with every story she told you. 'Fabric makes people listen, they're scared of the people with the golden buttons and sharp metal swords.'

'If you need anything, ask him and he'll get it for you,' he asks, looking over his shoulder at the man.

His tone grows harsher upon the mention of him doing his duty, your eyes falling to the man.

'Won't you, Ghost?

The masked man grabs the chair he was sitting on when you first entered the room, moving it as the brown-haired man and MacTavish move in the direction of the door. The chair settles at the side of your bed, as the pair move towards the door.

'Affirmative,' he grunts, taking a seat beside you while the two leave the Station, leaving you alone with the masked man called Ghost.

You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.

It's difficult to sit in silence, your stammering breath a reminder of all you've lost.

Beady eyes look at the masked man as you attempt to choke up the courage to say something to him. Despite sitting, his frame is much bigger than anyone else's you have ever seen, and as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, you flinch.

'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.

You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.

The fabric of his black mask moves as he sucks in a breath, 'can't say,' he confesses, 'confidential; unsure if anyone is listening out to try an' find her. If word gets out where she is, she'd be dead by tonight- if not sooner,' he explains.

'Why do they want her dead? Has she done something to you?'

You want to scream.

The man beside you is short with his responses, speaking of her as though he understands the whole picture, when in reality, their confinement of her is a crime punishable by death.

'She said somethin' she should've have,' he answers simply.

His words drag against his throat as he speaks to you.

'Oh,' you muster, resting your back against the wall behind you.

'Where were you goin'?' he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in his direction, tilting your head as you attempt to process what exactly he means by his statement.

'You said you were on a boat and you were rescued by one of the sirens,' he reminds you, your face flushing with colour as you realise you have already forgotten the tale you were twisting.

'I was with my sister,' you say, 'the memory is quite fuzzy,' you confess, knowing your knowledge of the surrounding land is limited to a map of the sea, not what is beyond it. 'It was for one of her trips, she was travelling to see her husband and then the storm hit.'

'The sea isn't too fond of forgiveness,' he remarks.

'Neither is the land,' you say, falling back into the security of the covers over you, allowing your back to slip from off of the wall, lying down.

Pushing himself up, he looks down at you, mustering a small hug as you sleeping exhale.

All the emotion and crying has your eyes drooping, disregarding your conversation. The man doesn't judge you for that, however, as you watch him looking over you with gentle eyes behind the mask.

'Get some sleep,' he says.

You expect him to say more to that, yet, instead, he pulls his chair from beside you, moving to it back to the corner he was sitting in before.

You keep your eyes on his broad back, watching as he sits down, kicking his feet up on to the desk, keeping his eyes out of the window.

Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

When the door eventually bursts open, he's quick to send his eyes in the direction of Gaz as he walks through it with a bundle of garments. His mouth is open as he goes to speak, only to quickly shut his mouth when he is eyes falls to you, sleeping in the cot.

Holding the handle of the door, he pushes it shut so the lock clicks as quietly as possible, even going as far as to wince while doing so.

'I managed to find some clothes for her,' he says, 'not sure if I'm going to be a single man when she gets home, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'

Setting the clothes down on the desk, Ghost stands up, picking the green cotton frock up from off of the table holding it out.

'I've never seen her in it,' Kyle says, 'don't even think she remembers having the thing, so she can't be upset about it if she completely forgot it existed, right?'

'Affirmative,' Ghost responds, 'wouldn't be too sure about it, though. She has an eye for the strangest things,' he warns, to which he laughs.

'You're right with that,' he says, 'I saw the Captain while I was out, he was comin' back from checking on the siren, told me to ask you if you're alright taking the girl in until she can remember what day it is; we can't leave her alone.'

He feels his chest tighten as he looks to you, seeing you peaceful sleep as you turn under the covers, your bare arm over your covered torso. 'You're the only one without someone... not too sure how—'

'I'll do it,' he says keeping his eyes trained on you.

Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.

'Well, she has no money does she? Not like an inn keeper is gonna give up a room for her, and I don't want to pay out of pocket to house her when she can just stay at my place.'

The man in front of him grins brightly.

'She'll hardly be any trouble, I'm sure of it,' he reassures, leaning against the desk, 'did she say anything else to you after I left?'

'She was with her sister on a ship heading somewhere to meet her sisters husband and that's then a storm hit and the ship was swallowed by the sea,' he says, 'she didn't say much, too out of it to really make much sense of the world around her.'

'Poor thing,' Gaz sighs, looking at Ghost, 'be nice to her, hey?'

'Wasn't planning on bein' cruel to her.'

'Good, good,' Kyle nods, 'Price told me to tell you that y' can have the rest of the day off if you get her out of the station, by the way. Take her home, get her something proper to eat and see if she wants to talk about it- he's sending something out to other villages to see if they have anyone who fits her description.'

'Doubt there'll be any news back for a while,' he says, approaching you, 'they don't care much for their own.'

His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.

'I'll leave you to it,' Gaz calls from behind Ghost, 'gonna go and try and catch up with Johnny on patrols, doubt my lady would be too pleased with seein' another girl naked,' he chuckles, heading towards the door.

Waiting until the door is closed, Ghost proceeds to crouch down in front of you, rough hand nudging you again.

Your eyes crack open, a startled gasp escaping as you're greeted with the sight of his bone mask right in front of your face.

He feels you tense in his hands.

'Didn't mean to scare you,' he says, 'got you some clothes to keep people from starin' at you love, and then you're coming back to my place,' he explains.

His voice is softer than the tone he held with you prior and you swallow hard.

'Your place,' you croak, your face burning red from the sudden scare from your sleep.

'Yeah; until you're back on your feet and until that head of yours start workin' you're gonna have to stay here,' he explains, 'Price has sent messages out to local villages, see if any family members pick it up.'

Your face falters.

You're going to be here a while.

'Gaz got you some clothes,' he says, motioning over to the table.

Pushing yourself up, you manage to move your legs so your feet are planted against the floor. Ghost averts his eyes away from you, turning away. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you look at the ground at your feet.

Surely it's not that difficult.

Pushing your self up off of the bed, you take a short breath, your legs wobbling as you land back onto the bed.

Despite being gifted the ability of legs, you find it quite pointless that you cannot use them. The water is much easier to navigate than the land is, that much you're sure of.

Looking up at the man in front of you, you let out a small breath.

'Can you help me?' you ask.

He doesn't bother saying anything to you, simply walking over to the table with the dress on it, it's an ugly green colour and you catch yourself grimacing at the fabric. Though, as soon as his eyes are on you, the sneer on your face fades away.

He's rough in the way he pulls the dress over your head, though you manage to get your arms through the sleeves with ease. It's an odd feeling, feeling the fabric against your skin, the elastic cuffs of the sleeves clinging to your arms.

Helping you to your feet, you stagger forward, your face growing red as you grab his arms for some form of support. Yet, he doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, busying himself with pulling the skirt down, it stopping mid-thigh.

Your legs tremble as you wince, you grip growing tighter on him as you fight to stay on your feet.

'Guess I haven't quite found my footing after the accident,' you awkwardly laugh, wishing to be relieved of this torture.

Your face is beat red as you continue to curse the moon for putting you in such a position, cursing the your words during that night.

Leading you back down onto the bed, you're quick to let go of his arms as he looks at you. He knows you're not going to be able to walk to his house, and he fights off the urge to huff.

There's something so simple yet so difficult about the task... he's a fucking lieutenant in the village guard and he's been put on babysitting duties.

Be nice to her, hey?

Kyle's voice is like a dagger through his skull, and even though you can't see his face under the mask, he musters up a tight-lipped smile, swallowing all his pride for himself and his position.

'I'll carry you.'

Neither of you are happy about this, though a tight-lipped smile of your own appears on your face.

'Great... thanks.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

His home is humble, quaint, tucked away in a quiet pocket of town.

Pushing open the door, he tilts his head towards the entrance of the house. With uneasy feet, you wobble as you take a step up into his house, his hand grabbing your forearm when you nearly loose balance.

During the course of your travels, you had fought against him, insisting after catching people staring at you for him to put you down and let you walk freely.

At first, he doesn't listen, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him, though, fortunately, he relented after you started to squirm in his arms.

It was difficult at first, but you got the hang of it... as long as his arm was around your waist.

It finds its way back around your waist for a short moment as he helps you up the steps.

'Careful,' he utters.

'Thanks,' you respond, holding the sides of the doorframes as you walk into the living room.

It's a quaint and simple little space, although, your cove is much better than this place. Yet, you suppose you cannot be picky while undercover, his hospitality rendering you speechless.

The mystery of the red moon and her tide is still very much fresh and new, you know you must not do something to compromise your safety or your chances of finding Serelia.

Even if it is resulting in you finding shelter in a man with a skull masks home.

Pulling his hood from off of his head head, he shrugged his cloak from off of his shoulders, hanging it up on a wooden stand placed beside the door.

You stand and watch, your arms pressed to your side, still trying to understand how exactly humans manage to stand so straight on their legs.

He turns to look at you, you see his eyes shift under his mask, 'it's not much, and you're going to have to be okay with sleeping on the couch.'

'Much more than what I have right now,' you respond with a soft smile on your face.

'Thank you, Ghost,' you say

'Of course,' he says with a short nod, 'you can help yourself to whatever you want, all I ask from you is to keep out of my room.'

'I can do that,' you reassure, nodding your head.

He doubts you'll even be able to climb the stairs as he can only liken the way you're walking to that of a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

He can't complain however; it's entertaining to watch you, and he does so as you make your way over to your new bed, holding your arms out either side to balance yourself before toppling onto the couch with a large exhale.

Sometimes his limited compassion still manages to get him into terrible situations, and as he looks at you, he can't help but worry about what he has gotten himself in for.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After spending some necessary time in his home, you eventually find your feet... both literally and figuratively.

It's difficult for you to stay confined to the four walls of his house, granted, you don't really do much and find joy during your first day there reading through an old shabby collection of books on his shelf.

There's nothing interesting, and you're unsure as to whether or not he himself has read any of them as when you open one, you sneeze from the amount of dust covering it.

It's a fun past time you find, especially during the few attempts of being more steady on your feet. The moon must have heard your complaints as, during the second day, you're nearly unstoppable, aside from the burning in your calves each time you take a step forward.

By the third day, you're almost sprinting out of the house into the village.

It's difficult to adjust to first.

The land is unknown to you, yet, you don't threat.

Instead, you search the village high and low, walking into every store, listening to every conversation of the locals in the village. You feel your skin crawl whenever you hear their laughter, though, it's as though talk of the siren has disappeared completely.

From spending time reading in the library to simply perusing the streets, you're wounded by the lack of information.

Why isn't anyone talking about her? Surely they know where she is; humans hate us and they'll want us gone for the issues we've caused.

The question follows you for a while, only stopping when you see the door open during your fifth night of staying inside Ghost's home.

He appears tired and as his hand moves to his cloak, he quickly stops himself from pulling it down when he sees you in front of him.

It's an odd thing, you've observed him over the past few days, and not once has he shown his face.

Still, you don't care for his habits as you open your mouth over dinner after swallowing a mouthful of food. Your hands is grabbing for the water next to your plate as you state, 'how come no one in town is mentioning the siren anymore?'

He looks at you, chewing under his mask which he holds up after each bite. 'Price has made it a rule,' he states, 'Lords out of town right now on business, until he comes back, we have to hold her per his request,' he explains, 'we've gotta keep her safe and if anyone is heard discussin' her, he's treating it as though it's treason.'

You offer a short nod, going back to eating your food.

'Why?' he eventually asks.

'I just thought, with something as big as this discovery, it would be the talk of the town for years,' you say, 'I thought it was strange, that's all.'

The look he gives you makes you think that he doesn't quite believe what you're saying to him, though, he doesn't press on the matter, going back to eating his dinner.

It's strange to spend time with a human, especially living with them.

He doesn't speak much, only really talking to you at dinner time or greeting you after returning from his shifts around the village to make sure everything is in check.

'You can take the mask off, you know,' you say, observing his discomfort, 'your identity doesn't make a difference to me, besides... this is your home,' you say softy.

Truthfully, the mask is just as much as an annoyance to him as it is to you.

Surprisingly, he listens to your words, pulling the mask tied around the back of his head off of his face allowing you to see his mouth.

Really, he does even know why he committed so long to wearing the stupid thing, growing especially frustrated as dinner grew to be more of a chore than something of enjoyment.

Old habits die hard, he supposes, and the habit of wearing around you died that night thanks to your comment.

While eating, he attempts to ignore your eyes on him, though he is far too aware that you're staring at him, not missing the way your cheeks have a light tinge of red to them.

Grinning to himself, he shakes his head at a crude thought that suddenly pops into his mind, narrowing his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you.

You drop your head immediately, focusing much more on your food than on him, though your embarrassment is difficult to miss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Simon seems warmer to you after you've been at his house for a little longer. The longer time passes by, the more trips you're taking to the ocean.

It started with one in the early morning, although, you find yourself walking there at the beginning of every day all to talk to the waves, hoping you'll see the familiar face of one of your sisters in the water. Yet, you don't.

Part of you is happy with this fact, not wanting them to see you in such a state wearing the ugly green frock, the only thing you own aside from a pair of sandals which Ghost brought with him upon returning from a shift.

On occasion, you bump into one of the men you saw when you first stop at the station. You learn that MacTavish's name is actually Johnny, and Gaz, the man who found you on the beach, is named Kyle.

They stop to talk to you for a while, sometimes walking with you to the beach where they speak with you.

Nothing interesting really comes from the conversations until, a month into your stay in the village, Johnny blabbers a little too much.

'He enjoys your company, bonnie,' he confesses after complimenting your new pink dress Simon bought you, 'was telling me that he's enjoying giving you little gifts and having you with him for dinner. I'm tellin' you, he like you more than you think.'

'How can he like me when I don't do anything but steal his food and sleep on his couch?'

'Couldn't tell ya, lass, strange man is our Simon.'

You hold your breath.

'Simon?' you ask slowly, a smile creeping on your face.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, his face growing red.

'His names Simon?' you ask, craning your neck forward to look at the blushing mans face.

'Forget I said anything,' he demands, rubbing his face with his hand. 'Please,' he almost begs. 'What I mean to say, lass, is that he does like you, and if you haven't thought of doing something for him, maybe consider it.'

His words follow you into the nighttime as you're helping Simon cook.

It's been something you've been doing for a while, intrigue taking you down the strangest path.

'My mum used to make this soup,' he explains, 'the recipe for it is somewhere, I don't know where it's gone though. It was great for nights like there.'

You hear a bell chime in your ears, thinking back to Johnny's words. Simon doesn't miss the smile on your face.

'What? What did I say?'

'Nothing, Sim-'

You freeze.

The pair of you stare at each other.

'Ghost, I mean Ghost!' you exclaim, holding your hands up, realising that you have most definitely gotten poor Johnny in a hell of a lot of trouble.

'Johnny told you didn't he?'

'He slipped up while he was talking to me today, he didn't mean it and I'm sorry if-'

'Say my name,' he cuts you off quickly and your eyebrows furrow.

'Simon?'

He grins to himself, turning his head away acting as though you have just done him the greatest act of service. 'I like how it sounds when you say it,' he says, going back to chopping up the vegetables, 'much better than Ghost.'

Redness spreads to your cheeks as you admire the look of joy on his face, finding that you want to do that more in order to see that look on his face.

So, as you're eating dinner that night, and even when you're lying on the sofa, you scheme like a criminal.

You toss and turn before you eventually get up and begin your search. Holding a lit candle, your eyes scan through his shelves looking high and low.

You spend what must be hours flicking through books, moving things, looking under the sofa, attempting to squint your eyes to look through floorboard before you find it tucked between the countertop and stove in the kitchen.

Only then can you rest easy, your eyes closing as you think about the mission you have got to complete tomorrow.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Walking through the bustling village main street, you listen to the bright tunes of the surrounding marketplaces, small stalls on either corner of the street, pushing everyone on the main road closer together.

You brush shoulders with a few people, keeping your arms out in front of you as you walk with a basket in front of you, the gold coins Simon has given you per your request rattling in your other hand.

It's rare you're outside as you spend most of your times in the library or back at Simon's home. Though nothing is going to stop you from making Simon the soup he mentioned last night.

Your heart flutters at the thought of how much he has done for you, and as a form of a thank you, you're going through the crumpled up recipe you stole from out of his kitchen, going to different stalls to get the things you need for the recipe.

The trip renders you exhausted, and by the time you're back at his house, you're fighting against sleep as you chop up the vegetable, putting them into the pot. You're unsure if you're doing it right, although, the longer you leave it to simmer, the more it takes the shape of something edible... you suppose.

You keep it on the stove until you hear the door open, and whether or not it tastes good, you're fine enough with the delightful smell that is exuding from the pot on the stove, looking in the direction of the door as it opens and Simon steps into the room.

'You're back,' you cheer, dropping the wooden spoon in the pot, approaching him.

The door shuts and he pulls his takes his hat from off of his head, pulling off his mask.

A crooked smile greets your eyes.

'What's all this?' he asks, his arms resting on your shoulders. It's common now, him touching you, and you sink into his hold on you with a sigh.

'Well, I thought you'd appreciate me making dinner for you,' you say sweetly, grabbing his hands, pulling him through into the kitchen, motioning to the table set. 'Also, you mentioned the old recipe your mum used to make for you, so, I thought I'd try my hand at it, see if I'm a good cook or not.'

He lets out a small ‘hm' as he grabs two bowls from out of the cupboards, placing them down on the countertop beside the stove. His hand hand is touching the small of your back as he grabs hold of the wooden spoon you left in the pot, tugging down the black mask covering his nose and mouth.

You watch, holding your breath as you await his reaction.

'Is it terrible?' you quietly as, looking on his face for any form of reaction, yet, he's unmoved. 'We can get something else to eat if it's really terrible,' you offer, pushing down the cuticles on your nails as you keep your eyes on him.

Setting the spoon back into the pot, he exhales. 'Needs a tad bit more salt, sweetheart,' he gently says, 'but considering this is your first time making it, I think you've done a pretty good job, hey?'

You can't stop yourself from smiling at his gentle words, feeling the warmth of his large hand pressing against your back as he reaches beside the stove, grabbing a salt shaker. 'A little more practice and I think I'm going to have my own personal chef,' he comments, adding some more salt into the soup.

Grabbing the spoon, you stir the mixture, scooping up another spoonful, holding it out to him with your hand underneath it, 'how's it now?'

His eyes are on you as he places his mouth against the spoon.

'Much better,' he says with a smile, 'go sit down, I'll do this.'

'Are you sure?' you ask, feeling him move his hand from off of your back. He gives you a short nod.

'Don't want you to burn yourself, go sit down.'

Over dinner, you share brief words, but it is in the silence and the company of him that you find you're most at peace.

There's nothing from either of you, and you take time to eat the soup you have been working on all day. It's okay, a little on the watery side, and you do think that Simon is still definitely a much better cook that you.

He thinks the soup tastes a tad funny, but he doesn't say it to you.

Such thoughts leave the pair of you to sit together, silently thinking about each other, yet not having the heart to disrupt the peaceful silence.

After dinner, you attempt to help him clean up, only, he refuses your help, requesting you stay in the living room.

'Simon you always do stuff for me,' you whine with a huff, 'let me help you- washing a dish isn't gonna kill me, y'know?

'I have a surprise for you and you're not going to get it if you keep going against what I've asked of you,' he warns, 'be a good girl for me, yeah? Go sit down, I'll be right through and you can have your gift.'

Suddenly, it's like your legs don't work anymore.

Knees almost buckling at his words, you gulp hard, managing out a short breath as you nod your head, not saying another word to him as you approach the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa, sinking into one of the many black cushions.

Pressing your face into your cupped hands, you fight off the urge to scream at the very fact he only has to speak to you and you melt like butter in a pan.

Death would be easier than this.

Eventually, he reappears holding a box in his hands. Setting it down on your lap, you smile at the sight of a white ribbon tied into a bow. It's a charming sight, and you fight off the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits next to you.

'You didn't have to,' you whisper.

'Well, you don't have many dresses, sweetheart,' he comments, 'my mum would have my head if she found out you only had two dresses,' he said with a short chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he sighs, 'I saw it the other day, been trying think of a good time to give it to you.'

Carefully, you untie the ribbon, pulling the top of the box off, setting it aside.

Peering up at you is a white cotton frock. Small flowers stitched into the open neck of the dress.

Pulling it out, you hold it out in front of you, letting out a squeal as you see the fabric touching all the way to the ground.

You jump into his lap, pressing a firm kiss onto his cheek.

'I love it!' you exclaim, holding the dress to your chest, before quickly pushing yourself off of him, shrugging off the sleeves of the green frock you've had since arriving in the village. 'I don't even wanna wait to try it,' you say brightly.

He watches amused as the fabric falls from off of your body, pooling around your feet. You're unapologetic of your appearance, tits on full show without a single care in the world.

Pulling the white dress over your head, you wiggle your hips as it hugs your waist, covering your legs.

He watches you, his hands on his thighs as you clumsily spin around in a circle, your skirt raising as you do so. 'What do you think?' you ask, 'does it look nice?'

He exhales deeply.

'Was made for you, sweetheart,' he replies with a bright grin on his face, 'gimme another spin.'

Your cheeks flush red, though you comply, your heart swelling at the request.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night is where you roam free, walking through the streets of the village, treading down to the shore all to sit by the water. You watch as the waves roll in with a joyous glint in your eye, knowing home is right at your fingertips.

But oddly, you find home is also on land in the form of your sister and the tall man with a strange mask.

The very thought of him makes you feel nauseous, the thought of him washing all your sentence just as the waves do the shore.

Dinner tonight was almost too much for you to handle, to have someone so close to you, to feel his hand on your back and to hear the humans terms of affection leave his mouth with the intent of the meeting your ears... everything.

You blame the dress you're wearing too.

You feel like you're betraying the words of your dear mother.

She has warned you time and time again of the dangers of the human folk, and here you are, wearing their legs, missing your tail and your vibrant scales, yet, prepared to throw it all away all to hear him utter your name and call you sweetheart just one more time.

All that for a human who doesn't even know the truth of who you are.

'I thought you were here,' you hear a voice call from behind you, almost submerged in the crashing waves.

Turning your head, you see Simon approaching you, his boots leaving prints in the sand.

Stopping beside you, you turn your head as he sits beside you. 'Why 'ave you come all the way out here at this time?'

'Needed some fresh air,' you mumble, resting your chin against your knees, hugging your legs.

'You'll find her again,' he says.

Your blood runs cold.

'Sure that siren saved her just as she saved you, yeah? You'll be with her again some day soon, and who knows, maybe she's become one of them herself.'

'She'd like that,' you whisper, looking at the tide.

I'd like that too.

'Until you know where she is or receive a letter from home, you're stuck with me,' he says, 'sorry.'

You laugh.

'You've been the thing to keep me sane through all this, Si',' you reassure, 'without you I would've lost my mind. I need you, and what you've done for me means more than anything any else has ever done for me.'

'Thank you,' he speaks with his chest, you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. 'I've enjoyed the company, it's nice to have someone to come home to, makes a change from the constant silence, gets me down sometimes.'

You will die before he is ever alone again, you're convinced.

Letting go of your legs, you pull away from the shore, moving towards him.

The light of the moon bouncing off of the water illuminates his features deliciously and you can't help but think of how he would look beneath the water where the pair of you could live out your days together.

Placing his hand on your knee, you rest your head against his firm shoulder, letting out a small breath as you look out onto the sea.

'Do you want to go back home to your village?' he asks.

'I don't have attachments to places, only people,' you respond, 'doesn't matter where I am as long as I have the people I care about with me- and if they wish to go somewhere else, then I'll will let them to do so.'

'So, when your sister finds you, you're gonna go back home?' he quietly asks, looking at the calm water.

'I don't know,' you say, 'so used to having you with me, and she's found her love now, she doesn't need me anymore. If she even is still alive that is.'

Leaning into the narrative is bruising, and in his silence you sit and think about whether or not you would return to the sea once you finally know that Serelia is safe.

These are the people who have hurt her, the man beside you is keeping her from you, yet, there you are in his arms, seeking comfort in the idea of living out the rest of your life at his side.

Really, you should want to put the entirety of the village under water.

'I want you to stay,' he quietly confesses, 'too used to y' now,' don't think I could go back to normal if you left.'

The feeling of nausea hits you again.

'I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' you say, feeling his grip on your knee tighten.

He holds his breath and you turn to look at him. Half lidded eyes stare back at you, and you find your hand reaching out to slip beneath the mask of the skull on his face, hooking your fingers beneath the fabric of the mask.

'Can I?'

He looks at you, though says nothing.

As you pull your hand away from his face, he pulls the hood down off of his head, undoing the tie around the skull mask on his face, allowing it to fall onto his lap.

Pulling the mask down, allowing it to pool around his neck, he looks you in the eyes. You stare back, settling your hand against his cheek. As you listen to the calmness of the water and under the watching eyes of the moon, you have little issue in leaning in closer.

His hand finds the back of your head as your lips ghost each others and you can feel hit hot breath fanning against your mouth.

'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.

'You might,' he replies, 'but I won't judge you for it if y' do.'

Your breaths mingle as your lips finally meet, a soft and hesitant connection which sends shivers down your spine. Its delicate, the feeling of his mouth against yours as he holds you as though you're seconds away from turning to ash, leaving him forever.

And while your lips were against his, the thought of doing such doesn't cross your mind.

Not even once.

Upon returning to his house, you walk past the couch you have been lying on, his hand on the small of your back pulling you past, guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom.

Nothing like what you have read happens, instead, he helps you out of your dress, leaving you in your panties. You ask for nothing from him as you climb into his bed as he undresses.

It's intimate, the feeling of his hot flesh against yours setting a light afire in your stomach as you curl into his side, just as you curled into your cove hidden within the depths of the sea.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Days progress and your search for Serelia quells as you keep an open ear on the talks of the city folk.

You could have ended all of this a lot sooner with a song, louring all of them into the water to give you an ample opportunity, but you haven't.

Some other time you would have, though, you've heard your voice while humming a song as you clean your flesh in the mornings, and it's devoid of the deepness to travel as far as it did while sitting upon the rocks on the sea.

She is still alive and well wherever she is, and you're quite sure she has been moved around quite a bit as a safety precaution, and with Price's willingness to keep her from the wrath of the village folk, you know that at least some of the men in the village are good.

The more days roll on, the softer the touches from Simon grow, and as you're sitting in the village library again, holding a book in your lap, your fingers trace over the words written, leaving your words caught in your throat.

Reading has been the one thing to keep you from the curse of whatever has happened to you, and you find the stories written by humans to be quite amusing.

Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.

Though, you find it's difficult to breathe as you progress further and further through the books in the library until you were greeted with one covered in dust.

The lady didn't see you pull it off of the shelf when you did, and as the sky grows orange before eventually fading to darkness, you're unaware of the change in workers as you press your thighs together, hot breath fanning against the pages of the book.

Only, it's not the story that has you blushing.

Rather, your own thoughts as you replace the characters in your head, seeing the same set of eyes that have been greeting you for the past week while waking up.

It's wrong and it's dirty, but you can't help but think of him.

Perhaps this is simply how humans show affection, and it's not like you haven't been close to doing it; your bare breasts have been pushed against his chest when the pair of you wake in the dawn, and neither of you have moved an inch during the closeness, relishing in the closeness.

'I've got work, love.'

'I don't care, too comfy for you to leave me.'

Your mouth grows dry as you contemplate whether or not he has thought of you in a similar manner, if the thoughts carry onwards to his mind from your own, or if he sees you in a different manner.

A voice calls out your name, the flame of the candle on the table beside you causing you to jump, and as you look up, you're quick to slam the book shut, clearing your throat as you tightly smile at the man standing in front of you.

'Scared me,' he says to you, 'I thought you were home.'

'I got bored,' you shakily say, gripping the book in your hand tightly, holding it as you push your chair in, 'I got caught up reading.'

Even though you try to keep the book out of his view, you find he doesn't care about the stupid collection of pages, his eyes dragging down your body as though they're scanning for any source of possible harm.

'I'm fine, Si',' you whisper.

He nods shortly, 'c'mon, it's late and you need to eat,' he says, stepping to the side, allowing you past.

Keeping hold of the book, you walk along side the man and out of the library.

'You didn't have to drag me out, y'know?' you ask, walking alongside him.

His eyes fall on you, you know it without even looking at him, your eyes scanning over the words in the book, 'could've left me in the library to live with the books, let the pots of colours ink stain my skin and cover me up. Wouldn't have bothered you every again.'

The book is ripped from your hands, slamming shut as the man standing beside you takes it off of you.

'Strange woman,' he remarks, keeping the book in his right hand as you proceed to walk through the town.

Your frustration is obvious but he clearly doesn't care, you see the way his face settles beneath the mask.

'Strange man,' you remark, 'walking around the village with a skull mask on, especially in the dark.'

He only grunts in response to your words, pulling your book in front of him, looking at the title with a raised brow. 'Saccharine?'

He looks at you with a look telling that he knows what's beyond the pages, the possibility of such making your cheeks flare red as he flicks through the pages.

'What's it about?'

'Uhm,' you look at him with weary eyes, 'it's an... adventure.'

He nods his head.

'An adventure,' he says, eyes scrolling down the page he lands on, reading aloud, ''use that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart, tell me what y' want,' he grunts, watching her squirm below him.''

Your face is bright red.

'Something fuckin' adventure that is, huh?' he barks out a laugh, as you elbow him in the side, snatching the book out of his hands. 'You dirty thing reading that out in public,' he mocks, your throat growing dry as you look at him.

'Shut up,' you grumble, slamming the book shut.

His laughter doesn't cease as you head towards his home, 'maybe I should have left you in the library by yourself.'

You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, longing for the cold ocean to reach right into the village and pluck you right from his side, placing you right back into the ocean.

Grabbing his key from out of his pocket, he heads up the steps to his house. You don't miss the glance he gives you.

'Who says I can't sort it out here?' you ask.

The keys fall from out of his hand.

Reaching down, you snag them before he can even muster the strength to breathe after the comment you've just made.

'You'd have an audience,' he says, grabbing your waist as you put his key into the door, turning it.

'I don't care,' you whisper, placing your hand against his cheek, 'especially if it's you.'

You don't quite process what happens until his lips are pressed against yours, the pair of you clumsily stumbling into his house, a giggle escaping you as he keeps you pressed against him.

The next couple of minutes are lost to clumsy steps, giggles and kisses as the pair of you waste no time rushing towards his bedroom.

Somewhere along the line, your dress is discarded, as is his shirt, all for it to be put on you as you sit in his lap clumsily doing up the buttons as the cuffs fall past your hands.

It's an alien feeling, the feeling on someone's lips against yours despite all the chaste kisses you have shared during sleepy mornings, and as he grabs you with greedy hands, you feel yourself melting into his hold, pressing your chest against his as you stifle out a short sound in delight.

You're unsure what exactly the sound was as it's muffled by your lips pressing against one another's, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his hand holds the small of your waist.

You feel the little muscle in your chest flutter as he tilts your head slightly with his other hand, deepening the kiss.

Keeping your eyes close, you feel as though you are one with the tide of the ocean, your limbs become that of liquid, flowing with whatever he wills as you fall apart in his arms.

Your firm grasp against his shoulders melts away as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck, your chest growing tighter as it grows harder to find gasps to take a breath from the kiss.

Placing another kiss against your plush lips, he pulls away, placing his hand against your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, letting out a gentle sigh as he looks at you.

Such gentleness is unheard of, no man should be so kind, yet, here he is, holding you as though you're the most fragile seashell on the seashore, intending to hold you close to keep you as a memory.

There's an odd heat flooding your stomach when he pulls away, a pulsing in the area you're somewhat familiar with. It's a dull ache, a bruising urge and you began to squirm in his lap in an attempt to chase the feeling away.

The feeling of his pants against you brings a satisfying wave over your body, willing to continue squirming in his lap in the hopes to find some form of quick fix. A breathy whimper escapes you as you continue to grind hopelessly in his lap, chasing after the release you so crave.

Only, your his are grabbed by his hands, as he holds you in place, grunting.

'Hurts,' you grumble, your hands falling to grab his wrists in an attempt to pull them away. Yet, his hold on you persists, keeping you firmly in place.

'Please,' it escapes your lips before you even understand what it is that you're begging for, though there's something that you can only describe as longing to extinguish the fiery blaze in the pit of your stomach.

You continue to fight against his hold on your hips, you lips pressing together in an unhappy manner.

There's a glint you spy as desire in his eyes, though, much to your displeasure, he keeps himself from acting on whatever that particular desire is, leaving you teary eyed in his lap.

'Sweetheart,' Simon breathes, shaking his head, 'hey, hey, it's alright, what are you getting teary eyed f'r? Haven't hurt you, have I?' he asks as your try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. You're frustrated, unable to tell him what exactly you want because, truthfully, you've only read about such in the books in the library during the times he was busy with work.

All of it is new, and you wish for the blessing of experience you wash over you as you look at him with a lingering frustration.

'No,' you say, 'it's not that, it's that I...' you're unsure what to say, so, you let go of his wrist, lifting your hips as you look him in the eyes, placing a hand against your core.

He looks at you with a crooked smile when he finally catches onto what exactly it is, and all you can muster, in pathetic whisper is, 'need you.'

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you're relieved when one of his hands is pulled from off of your hip as he gently moves his hand against you, cupping your cunt, pressing his thumb up in a particular spot.

You let out a whimper at the strange, yet welcome sensation, noting how his hand is far better than your own.

There should be something shameful about this, only you push into his hold, hoping he returns your enthusiasm.

It's in his arms you feel the most safe you have ever felt, even the tide of the ocean cannot compare to him in this moment as he pulls you loser, looking upon you with moons for eyes, conveying the idea that, maybe, he does think you're the prettiest thing he has ever set his eyes on.

Your back is pressed against the bed, the absence of his touch like a dagger through your heart. He looms over you, arms either side of your head. The lack of light, the flickering flame of the candle and the beams of light from moon shooting through the window render you speechless as you look at him.

'My pretty girl,' he utters underneath his breath, his hand brushing under the cotton shirt, moving further up your skin. Goosebumps form on your flesh as he does so, cheeks red the longer he keeps his eyes on you. 'Made with wind an' sea, you are,' he says, brushing his hand down your stomach, resting it against your pubic bone as he looks you. 'Tell me what you want, sweetheart.'

Opening your legs for him, you muster up a small whimper, looking him in the eyes, 'want you to touch me,' you quietly say, 'please, Si', need you to make me feel better,' you beg, feeling as though you're seconds away from collapsing.

A breath escapes you as he pushes your panties to the side, trailing his fingers up and down your folds with a groan.

There's a distinctive wet noise as he does so, spreading your cunt open with two fingers. Looking down between the valley between your breasts, you swallow hard at the sight of him touching you, jolting when his fingers brush against your clit.

It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.

Continuing in a fluid motion, your back arches as pretty moans escape your mouth, writhing beneath him. The heat in your stomach only grows as he does so.

'That's it, sweetheart,' he utters, sliding his fingers downwards, pressing one digit against your hole. 'Gonna be good for me an' take my fingers?' he asks, to which you eagerly nod your head.

'Y- Yes, please,' you respond, your back arching against the bed as he pushes a finger into you.

An odd stinging sensation causes a tear to slip past your eye as you fist the sheets below you, letting out a small sob. He pauses, you catch the orange light from the candle in his eyes as his mouth falls.

Then, you begin to feel him pull away.

'No,' you quickly exclaim, 'no, no, don't pull away, it's just...' you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, 'I've never done this before.'

He looks at you with wild eyes as he expression softens. Leaning forward, he places his lips against your and you cup his face with both of your hands, your mouth falling open as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he sighs, 'I didn't know, love,' he confesses under his breath, 'I shouldn't have made assumptions—'

'It's not your fault, Si', you didn't know,' you reassures, 'but I don't want you to stop,' you say, toes curling as his finger presses against a spot which almost has you seeing colour.

The air in the room is hot, only growing when you see a crooked smirk on his face as a crude squelch sounds.

You feel another finger against you.

'Gonna make sure your pretty cunt is taken care of,' he says, 'won't want anyone else after you've had me,' he utters, pushing another finger into you.

It burns for a moment, the stretch aching, yet working to contribute to the cord tightening in your stomach.

You're unsure as to what to expect as a delicious heat envelopes yous body, clumsy hands letting go of his face, moving to his shoulders. More tears slip down your cheeks, a loud moan escaping you as both his finger brush against a spot which has you falling apart in his hold.

You expect him to relent, though, he positions his fingers to proceed to hit that spot. By now you're a babbling mess under him, all the while he's grinning at the pretty mess you're becoming, soaking his fingers as you edge closer and closer to the edge.

You're not going to last much longer, he knows such as you clench around his fingers, his cock hardening at the very thought of having that pretty pussy around him.

There's a panic in your eyes as you edge closer to the edge, so he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, 'you're okay, princess,' you gently says, let go, cum for me, cum around my fingers, let me see how pretty you look,' he says, cautious not to make a demand as he continues to work his fingers into you, stretching you out.

Your chest heaves as you screw your eyes shut, your muscles tensing as you find yourself bracing for the coil in your stomach to snap.

It's odd to be scared of something that is making you feel so good, and you relax realising you're in his arms.

Your thighs begin to tremble as you let out small moans, drool trailing down your chin as you press your head back into his pillow, the heat in your stomach dispersing, crashing down into a pleasurable wave which has you almost sobbing.

Your hole clenches around Simon's finger, your entire body turning stiff as you stifle out a crude gasp, your orgasm washing over you. You watches as you completely fall apart, your juices flooding his fingers as you cum. 'That's it, you're okay,' he breathes, 'I got you, you're okay,' he reassures, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.

Your raging breath steadily quells as he pulls his fingers out of you, sitting back on his thighs. Your hair is sticking your back as sweat soaks into the shirt you're working.

Whimpering, you watch as he presses the two digits he used to fuck you between his mouth, cleaning the mess you made of his hands with his tongue, letting out a short moan as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, 'as sweet as honey,' he remarks, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt.

Instinctively, you close your legs, all for him to tut, placing his hands on your knees, pulling them open again.

'Prettiest cunt I've ever seen sweetheart,' he say, 'don't try and keep it from me, yeah? You're not gonna be cumming around anyone else's cock aside from mine; gonna ruing you, shape that pretty hole for my cock and my cock only,' he gruffly speaks.

You hear the shift of fabric.

Pulling his underwear off, he tosses it somewhere into the room, sifting upwards, a crude wet slap filling the room as he slaps his cock against your clit.

You let out a small yelp as the sensation, your cunt still marked with sensitivity from your orgasm. Though, as you feel the blunt head of his leaking cock between your folds, you find the heat returns with a vengeance, leaving your mouth dry as he presses himself against your hole.

'It's gonna hurt for a second,' he warns, grabbing your hip with his hand, 'just keep breathing for me, let that pretty pussy stretch around me- I'll give y' all the time you need, just tell me,' he utters.

His tone is much darker than any you've ever heard, and as he begins to push himself into you, your mouth closes as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you're quite sure you're going to draw blood.

A filthy moan escapes your lovers lips as he pushes into, the heat around his cock making it hard to keep a clear mind as the longing to fuck you until you're sobbing possesses him.

It won't take much, he knows that, counting on the fact that he's not even half way in and tears are already pouring down your cheeks.

Gripping your hips, he eases himself in to the hilt, moaning as you clench around his cock.

'Good fuckin' girl,' he curses, his nails digging into your skin as you wince. Never have you felt so full, feeling his cock pulsing in your core as you squirm beneath him.

Without even moving, you're sure he's pressing against that spot that brought you to your release just moments prior, you stomach twisting.

I'm not going to last.

Your legs merely wrap around his waist as he looks to you, and with a trembling mouth, you nod your head, 'y- you can move,' you say with a small nod, hissing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.

Your skin is hot as sweat drips down your silky flesh, pushing downwards to meet his thrusts as he picks up the pace. The sound of you skin slapping together is vulgar, though neither of you care as you burble out weak 'ahs' under your breath as he drives his cock into you. Simon isn't quiet either, vocal grunts through gritted teeth as his bruising grip on you maintains a steady pace.

'Fuuuckkk,' he moans, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, ripping it open. You offer him as startled look as he drags his blunt nails up your stomach, grabbing your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 'Prettiest fuckin' girl to ever walk the land,' he claims, 'made for me and my cock, and it's all mine, isn't it?'

'A- All yours,' you confirm, unable to keep a sane mind about you as he's fucking you dumb.

All your mind is sticking to is the thickness off his cock as it's hitting all the right spots. You're sure you're drooling from the sensation, your eyes falling back into your head as you babble out nonsense.

'No one else's,' you manage to get out before you're completely at his disposal, the feel of your next orgasm creeping up on you.

'You gonna cum for me again, princess?' Simon asks, greedily sucking in air as he looks at you, feeling your cunt clenching around him. He himself is edging closer to the edge, the tightness of you around his thick cock simply being too much to bear.

'Yes, 'm so close... so fucking close, please, please let me cum,' you dumbly beg, not able to keep the words from flowing past your lips.

'Go on, sweetheart, cum around my cock, make it yours,' he demands, his thrust growing much more sporadic as he chases after his own release.

A moan escapes your lips as you arch you back off of the bed, your entire body spasming as you allow yourself to fall into the pleasure of your orgasm as the cord in your stomach snaps, forcing a gasp out of you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob, tightening around his cock as you cum. The sound of your skin connecting is wet as Simon fucks you through your orgasm, his curses and grunts filling your ears.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's right sweetheart,' he moans, 'gonna make you mine, fill you up with my cum, no one else is having you, you're mine,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

He lets out a moan as he fills you up.

It's a filthy feeling, but you love it terribly, your hole twitching as you feel his pulsing cock empty his load inside of you.

A short breath escapes him, and you moan feeling him push deeper inside of you, thrusting and out of you to ensure you're not missing a drop of it.

Remaining inside of you, he moves to lay beside you, keeping bodies pressed against you, the smell of sex and sweat in the clammy air of the room, but he doesn't even think of pulling out, let alone pulling away. Instead he settles with his cock inside out you, pressing another kiss against you.

Your eyes feel heavy, your entire body sluggish as you press your face into the crook of his neck.

'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.

You lay together for a short while before he eventually pulls his softening cock from out of you, you whimpering from oversensitivity as he does so. Your inner thighs are wet, and as your hole clenches around nothing, you're face grows red as you feel his cum dripping out of you.

He leaves you alone for a short while and you lay, your body blanketed in the moonlight. Beyond the window in his room, you spy the ocean in the distances, seeing the rolling waves, your throat tightening are your eyes move around the room, spying his side of the bed, then lifting back to the water.

You can't possibly stay here forever? Can you?

You have people, you have your sister still to find, getting no closer to having Simon confess to you where she is being kept.

When you uncover it eventually, what are you going to do? Free her and stay here? Will the even want you back when you return with the marks of a human all over you?

Your eyes water when he comes back into the room with a cup of water and a damp cloth in his hands, approaching you.

He sees the furrow of your brow and the discontent on your face, taking a seat beside you, pressing his hand against your face.

'I haven't hurt you have—'

'No, no,' you quietly state, sniffling, 'just...' you look at him, holding his wrist. 'I like you,' you whisper, his eyes growing wide at your confession, 'I- I know it's soon but—'

'I like you too, sweetheart,' he reassures, setting the cup of water down on the nightstand.

You rejoice in the outcome of your diversion, noting it works well as he looks at you with all the adoration the human heart can muster. 'Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't leave you like this,' he utters, to which you nod in appreciation.

The night is sleepless for the most part as you're in his arms. It's difficult to confess to yourself, but you're aware of the lies you have told and of the possible consequences to come from it.

Even if he isn't fearful of what you are, there's still the fact that the betrayal will be too great as, essentially, everything you have together is built on a lie, and you're only encouraging it through playing the role of human.

A part of you wishes to wake him from his current sleeping state and tell him, yet, you cower in the thought of conflict destroying the night the pair of you have shared.

So, you tell yourself that you'll tell him tomorrow instead before falling into the heat of his body, closing your eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning you wake with a dull ache between your thighs, looking to the side of your bed.

Simon isn't there and you sit up quickly, eyes scanning around the room, a panicked breath squeezing out of your lung as you search for him.

Has he left for work already?

You feel an odd sense of betrayal well in your breast as you shuffle from under the sheets, stopping in your tracks when you hear the creak of the staircase leading into his room. His head appears first and you quickly fall back onto the bed, eying him.

'I thought you left for work,' you confess as he climbs the final step. He shakes his head, looking out of the window to the early morning sun. It covers his frame in a delicious light and you take a moment to admire him. How his white shirt settles against his chest, the mask on his face right back where it usually it.

It's a shame though; you want to see his blond hair in the light of the sun.

'I'm not that cruel, sweetheart,' he reassures, 'want you to come with me today; I'm sitting in the Station by myself while the other three do whatever, want some company with me,' he says, we'll stop by the library and bakery before we go there, I'll get you that pastry you like,' he offers, fixing the buckle of his belt, 'what do you think?'

Propping your head up with your hand, you look as hm with rosy cheeks and a bright grin on your face. 'Make me a cup of tea when we're in the station too?' you ask.

'If I must,' he says, laughing, moving towards one of the drawers in his bedroom, pulling it open.

Grabbing a dress and panties, walking up to you. Shifting in the bed, you push the sheets back, standing up, taking the panties from his hands.

Stepping into them, you look up to see him holding your dress, the skirt bunched up. 'Hold your arms up,' he instructs, to which you giggle at, but comply, holding your arms up.

Placing the fabric of the dress over your head, you slip your arms inside of the sleeves, as he kneels down in front of you, pushing his mask up slightly so he can press kisses onto your stomach as he lowers the skirt of the dress further and further down.

More laughter spills past you as you watch him with do so. The skirt reaches your ankles and he stands up, grasping your waist. 'Happy I got this dress for you,' he comments.

You quirk an eyebrow.

'I thought you said it was plain.'

'Nothing's plain when you're wearing it, sweetheart,' he responds, pressing a kiss onto your lips. You roll your eyes at his sappiness despite melting into his hold.

'You're an idiot,' you say.

'And you're slow,' he retorts, letting go of your waist, 'finish up getting ready and meet me downstairs, don't take too long; don't wanna be stuck in a queue at the bakery.'

'You're the reason—'

'Don't wanna hear it, princess,' he calls as he walks down the the stairs, leaving you alone in his bedroom, crossing your arms over yourself as you watch him disappear.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He cannot take his eyes off of you as you sit in the station, stray crumbs of the pastry around your mouth as you babble on about one of the books you found in the library.

It never occurred to him until now that it's very much possible to be a love drunk fool, and he feels himself grinning under his mask as you speak with such passion, it's making him lightheaded. He has little understanding of what you're talking about, but that doesn't matter.

He sits and listens to you, only stopping you when he reaches out his hand, brushing away the clumsy flakes of pastry from around your mouth. You stare at him, eyes panning down to your skirt as you blush at the sight of golden flecks on the white fabric.

Brushing your hands over your covered thighs, you brush them away, looking back at him. Opening your mouth, you go to speak, all for your moment to come crashing down as Kyle barges into the Station.

Taking one look at the pair of you, he lets out a comically loud wretch, 'save it for the bedroom, please,' he breathes, closing the door behind him.

'What are you doin' back?' Simon asks, checking your face for any more crumbs, letting a small grunt when he's satisfied there are none, pulling his hand away from you. 'Thought you were going to be out all day.'

'I've been looking for Rhys,' he says, 'he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her and I haven't seen her, when I went to the cabin the door was locked, all the curtains were drawn too,' he explains, rubbing his head.

Your ears perk up with the mention of a cabin, glancing at Simon before back at Gaz.

She's in a cabin somewhere nearby and she's still alive.

Your heart settles with the thought.

'He couldn't have gone far,' Simon says, 'might've slept in or something- if something was wrong, he wouldn't disappear on us.'

'You're right,' Kyle says, closing the door behind him, 'he's a good kid, shouldn't be thinking badly of him in the first place, just difficult not to worry when he's usually there at the crack of dawn, you know?'

'Are people still demanding a trial?' you ask.

'Yeah,' Kyle responds, approaching the fireplace to the right of the bed you're sitting on, pulling the lid off of the kettle. Fortunately, Simon replenished it after making you both a mug of tea. 'We're trying to push it back; she's a nice girl from what I can tell, doesn't speak much though- to me at least,' he explains.

'Why don't you just let her go?'

'Letters from the Lords telling us we can't act until he's back home,' he says, 'unfortunately, we work for him. If it was up to me, she'd be back in the water; I think everything people are saying about her is nothing more than fairytales.'

You smile at his words; he's right, in terms of her, they are all fairytales.

If he's looking for the sirens from fairytales, he's already eyeing her as he talks to you.

'Do you want another cup of tea?' Kyle asks, looking at the pair of you. Simon shakes his head but you nod, though, before you can reach for your mug, it's taken from out of your reach as Simon holds it out for Kyle.

You give him a short look which he returns after handing your cup to to Kyle who busies himself with minding his business.

'You my servant now?' you ask.

'Can be if you want me to be,' he answers.

You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall, dusting the remnants of your breakfast off of your hands.

'You're sweet talk is making me sick,' Kyle calls, approaching you, carefully handing you your mug of tea, 'need some lessons in it, Simon,' he adds.

'Fuck off,' barks the man.

'I've got nothing to do so you're not getting rid of me for a while,' he says, 'I'm gonna stay here for a while before heading back up to the cabin, haven't had a moment to relax this morning,' he scoffs, 'could do with a moment of rest.'

Sitting forward, you move your legs off of the bed, allowing Kyle to take a seat beside you, sipping from your mug, 'there's always something to be doing,' he begins to complain, 'never a fuckin' quiet moment in this—'

The door to the station bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite.

'She's dead!'

The cup in your hand drops as you jolt from the sudden noise, the hot liquid merely missing your thighs as you shift out of the way, hearing the tea cup shattering as it meet with the stone floor.

You curse under your breath, looking at the mess you have made as you go to drop to the ground to clean it up, all for Kyle to shake it head while Simon stands up to address the man at the door.

'It's fine love,' reassures the man sweetly, 'you'll end up cuttin' your fingers, I'll clean it up,' he says, looking down at the shattered tea cup on the ground.

Frankly, you appreciate his kindness as you raise to your feet, looking around Simon's bulky frame to the man who scared you.

He's shaking as he speaks looking at Simon, his eyes blown wide, reflective of the surface of the moon as he tugs at his fingers while attempting to express the horrors of which he has witnessed.

'I left for the night, an' when I returned she was dead,' he says, 'bloody and beaten, whoever it was took all her scales, left them around the room like it's some sort of fuckin' confetti.'

Scales.

You're sure you hear Kyle yell, but you're unsure what he actually says.

There's anger in the young man's eyes, genuine emotion as he details every single gruesome detail of the scene.

Serelia.

The siren.

'W- Where?' you manage to get out, not caring if Simon is about to say something in response. 'Where is she?' you roughly demand.

The young man standing in front of you looks at you with wide eyes as you move in front of Simon.

Your lover doesn't say anything.

'Tell me!' you demand, grabbing his shirt.

'T- The cabin just beyond the Lords house,' he stutters.

Without much thought, you're rushing out of the station without any hesitation, rushing through the streets as your heart rages in your chest.

Your mind is racing with his confession, shoving past and barging shoulders with everyone as you push through the busy town square, staggering up the steps towards the direction of the Lords house.

You're aware of the man behind you; Simon never really did let you out of his sights, after all.

Everything seems so much smaller in your eyes as you stumble further and further up, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

Perhaps it's some form of sick joke- she's okay, she's just playing dead; she's a smart girl, even having tricked you a few times.

She's okay- she's got to be okay.

You're in a fit of hysterics as you pull the door open to the small, reserved cabin.

There are footsteps behind you, a distant call for your name, only, when you pull the door open, you seek the sister you had lost that night on the shore. Still bleeding as she was when she had been taken despite her pleads for freedom, only, she isn't moving.

She lays on the wooden ground of the room, her hand open in your direction, as stray tear slipping down her face as her open, bruised eyes stare into nothingness.

You stand at the door, your bottom lip trembling as you scream out, 'SERELIA.'

Rushing up to her side, you collapse onto your knees, trembling hands hovering over her swollen body, blood seeping into your white frock as you simply sit and stare in horror.

Placing your hand against her cheek, you flinch at the icy feeling of her skin, trailing the tips of your fingers over her soft flesh. Stray scales sit on the ground from around you, plucked like petals from a daisy.

Her body is destroyed, pretty face so swollen, you hardly know who you're looking at.

Nausea hits you, though you fight against the urge to vomit up your breakfast, lunging forward, slipping your hand beneath the bleeding body of your sister, resting your forehead against her shoulder as you pull her close, her body falling over your lap as you sob, brushing your hair through her dirty ginger locks as your body shakes against her still one.

This all feels like a bad dream that you wish to wake from, only, you cannot.

'I- I'm sorry, my urchin,' you manage to get out between spouts of hyperventilation and nausea, your nails digging into her flesh as your arm settles in her blood.

'My beauty, they have destroyed you,' you mumble under your breath, unmoved by the stench in room as your chest swells.

Pulling your head off of the corpses shoulder, you press your hand firmly against her rotten cheek, observing the countless amount of cuts.

You feel the room spinning as you observe the true brutality of mankind, how they are so careless towards the rest of natures creations and you feel like a fool.

A fury burns within you, your tongue ceasing as two hands are placed on your shoulders, attempting to move you away from Serelia. Looking up over your shoulders, you spy the bewildered eyes of your lover.

'Let go of me, Simon,' you demand, turning your head back to the woman on the ground.

His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.

You wish for him to relent, but that's not in his nature. No, he wishes to keep you from all danger, and with the mess you have made of yourself and the crime scene, somewhere deep inside, you understand that you cannot have the very thing you desire.

You're pulled to your feet, crying as you kick and scream in his arms, the bloody skirt of your dress sticking to your legs as you fight against him.

'Let me go!' you cry, turning in his hold, bringing your hands to his chest, weakly hitting him as though it is he who caused the bloody slaughter. 'Let me go,' you hiccup as you're pulled out the door, away from the sight that is sure to haunt you for the rest of your life.

Pushing your hands against his chest, you shove him with all you might, though he does not move.

Placing you against a tree, he gently guides you to the ground as your legs give, kneeling on the ground before you as you chase after your breath, your legs laid out in front of you, your hands resting flat against your thighs.

Looking up towards the sky, you spy the moon staring down upon you despite the morning sky, proceeding to cry as you recall the lights on the shore the night Serelia was taken.

Your throat burns with the desire to scream and scream until you have torn the very vocal cords nature gifted to you, seeing no use in them as you come to realise that you will never call her name and get a response ever again.

'You were never on our side,' you sniffle harshly, hot tears flowing free as Simon simply stares at you. 'I see their torches in the light of your stars. You make us the villains, fool us into doing your dirty work, and then leave us stranded when you want no more to do with us,' you seethe, turning your head to the side as you continue to sob.

Simon's hand presses against your flushed face, pushing your head up from off of your shoulder, 'love, you need to calm down,' he utters gently. 'You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep on like this,' he warns.

He means well, you love him enough to acknowledge that in the midst of your fury.

Yet, your punishment leaves you weak and weary, missing the water you grew up in, missing life prior to that night.

'I already am sick,' you retort in a broken tone, 'infected with the parasite that makes me you, that separates me from her,' you cry, 'no longer a siren, only human.'

You don't care what happens, and, if you do, your emotions keep you from logic.

'W- What?' the man beside you chokes out.

You don't miss the way his hold on your face tightens, yet, you do not flinch, permitting his harsh hold as you look him in the eyes, swallowing harshly.

'I'm not a human,' you whisper, 'I don't know what I am anymore... I never had a sister, I was never in a wreckage, I was looking for her, my Urchin,' you admit, turning your head in the direction of the cabin. 'And now she's gone.'

Your sobs fill the void of silence, only, nothing fills the void of warmth against your face as he pulls his hand away from your face. Looking at him, your bottom lip wobbles.

Every lesson your mother has ever taught you is urging you to hate him, telling you that it is his fault that there she's lying there alone in a puddle of her own blood, unrecognisable.

However, no matter how much you wish to lunge forward and claw his eyes from out of his head, you find heart and mind conflict easily.

'Please say something,' you beg, caving to the gaping hole in your chest, longing for the return of his touch for, what is left after him? An outcast? Nowhere to return, even the ocean doesn't want you, and your bleak reality begins to settle in as his eyes do not change. 'Please, please talk to me, I- I've already lost her—'

He's unsure how to tread, you see the weariness in his eyes. 'What part of you is real?' he asks, 'or are you just a liar?'

'My love for you is real,' you blurt out, 'I cherish you, all of you for caring for me and for taking care of me when I needed it the most,' you continue, 'but I couldn't tell you, Si'- I- I've been trying to think of a way to tell you the truth and I was gonna do it today- I swear to you.'

'Why?' he lowly asks, 'are you afraid of me?'

'Are you afraid of me?' you question, looking him in the eyes as a stray tear falls past your eye.

He pauses.

'Your people murdered one of my own, Si',' you choke out, a flurry of emotion blowing over you as your face and skin prickle with an insatiable heat. 'We act accordingly, you treat us violently, we react with violence, but she...' your words trail, 'she did nothing to anyone, Simon. Had a voice as sweet as honey, charming, loving to the creatures of the sea, and look at what happened.'

'What's stoppin' you from hurting me?'

His voice and tone are raw as you look at him.

Truthfully, in the midst of your misery, you're unable to see the reason which keeps your fury at bay, though, when you look into his eyes, you understand for a moment long enough to form a response.

'You tried to keep her safe,' you whisper, 'keeping her from everyone, keeping her out of the way. They got to her, you didn't.'

And I can't let myself get to you for something you haven't done.

He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.

Always, the desire to push him away is going to nestle within after the events of today, but nothing stops you from lunging into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with as you sob.

His large hand presses against your head as he pulls you close, his hold on you almost crushing as you cry into the nape of his neck. If he is hushing you, you can't hear him.

You're in his arms and he's got you.

His hold feels the same as the one you have became accustomed with during your time on land, nothing has changed.

Feeling him tug at his mask, you settle when you feel his lips press against your forehead, and with a small voice he utters, 'I love you,' he says, 'human, siren, sea monster, sea urchin, I don't fuckin' care,' he states firmly, placing another kiss on your forehead.

'I love you too,' you tightly say, feeling the urge to smile at his words, but you don't, simply remaining in his arms.

'I'm sorry, love,' he utters. 'She didn't deserve any of this, neither did you.'

With your face buried into his neck, you nod your head.

'I know.'

You lay in his arms for what seems like an eternity, holding his bloody shirt as he rubs your back.

There's nothing that can be said, you know that.

Both of you do.

A man of few words can hardly be expected to become a flowing fountain of knowledge in the span of an hour.

Anyone else would curse him for not trying to make you feel better, maybe even say he doesn't care about you. But his rough touch turns gentle with you. His boisterous manner is reserved to calmness.

Oddly enough, it's in the most violent man that you find your faith in humanity is kept from drifting off of the cliff, toppling over into the ocean.

Eventually, you feel him shift beside you and you're moved as though your a doll in a child's arms. Looking down at you, he brushes his hand against your face, wiping away the tears that have flooded your face. You place your hands over his much larger ones, looking him in the eyes as you sniffle.

'We can't leave her there like this,' he utters, 'they'll wanna burn her body, 'not gonna let that happen.'

You mouth grows dry.

'We'll bury her up here, there's a clearing near the cliff, overlooking the water so she's not too far from home.'

No words leave your mouth so you simply nod your head in agreement as the pair of you raise from the floor.

Her helps you up and keeps you steady, not daring to let go of you, seemingly fearful that, if you fell, you would shatter and leave him forever.

He does all the work, leaving you to sit and watch as he carefully raps the girl in a sheet, lifting her into his arms with ease.

You standby and watch idly, holding a shovel in one hand and a lantern in the other, unable to look the dismal sight in the eye.

As, you step outside of the cabin, keeping your head bowed as you follow after him, heading towards the burial sight he mentioned.

It's hidden, private, and you stand near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the darkened abyss of water below you as you hear the occasional grunt from behind you as Simon busies himself with digging the gave.

At this moment you're resentful, wishing for some form of blow to the head to send you over the cliff, rejoicing in the short fall before you're able to escape from the consequences of your failure.

Only, you cannot will yourself to go over the cliff on your own accord, knowing if you did, Simon would most likely blame himself- if not follow right after you.

Living in the idea is enough to keep the action at bay, the resounding guilt and regret you imagine you would feel after taking the leap filling you with dread.

So, you turn yourself around and sit next to the woman wrapped in white while Simon makes a grave for her to finally rest her weary head.

It's difficult to say goodbye.

It was difficult when you said goodbye to your mother, a bitter pill to swallow when old age claimed the crazed woman on the seas, though, the guilt stabbing into your heart like a dagger proves to make this send off much worse.

Never did you dream of doing something so horrible, yet, here you are, unable to escape reality.

It's the dead of night by the time the grave is ready, the lantern in your hand flickers as Simon holds the body of Serelia in his arms, lowering her into the grave he constructed using a shovel.

The sheet she's wrapped in is stain red, marked with her blood, and while your chest grows heavy at the sight you find solace hiding in the shadows away from the moonlight.

Kneeling to the ground beside him, you tear the edge of your skirt, placing it onto her body with a shaky sigh.

He looks at you.

'When someone passes, we pull one of own scales and lay it with them to rest so they always have a piece of us with them,' you explain, 'I can't do that for her, but I'm not going to leave her with nothing,' you state.

Grabbing the edge of his shirt, you watch with a sunken smile as he rips a piece of his shirt of, laying it beside the piece of your dress you laid upon her.

'It's an apology,' mumbles the man, 'couldn't be there to keep her from harms way in this life, but she'll have me in the next. She'll have the both of us, yeah?'

'Forever and always.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You return to his home covered in blood.

He helps you wash, rubbing a sponge around your back as you lean forward, chin resting against your knees with void eyes. You say nothing to him, only listening to his gentle requests.

While doing so, he feels a heat growing his stomach. It had been set alight from the very second he heard you screaming and crying, and the longer he focuses, the more he finds his blood boils. Someone in the village knew where she was and they killed her- perhaps even multiple people.

A poor young girl was murdered, and in the process they murdered your spirit.

And now he is scared as he looks at you.

There's nothing to tie you to the land anymore, he understands that as he wraps you in a towel, carrying you up the steps to his bedroom in a woeful silence.

There's nothing to tie you to him and he wishes to paint the town red for the crime committed against you, swearing to himself that he will find the perpetrator.

The next time he's cleaning blood from under his fingernails will be the time he has avenged you.

Until then, however, he's committed to being beside you until you no longer want him there as he looks onto you after helping you get ready for bed, lying on his back beside you.

Nothing is left in you, your soul devoid of anything as your mind wanders to her body wrapped in that white sheet, and as you look to the dress discarded on the floor, you find you're not too far off her fate.

Laying your head upon his head, you listen to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive, fearful that he will leave you before you get the opportunity to leave him first.

'I love you,' you croak.

'I love you too, sweetheart.'

After a while he his breathing calms, soothing and melting as a wave on the beach did.

Your mind has been made up since he placed his shirt beside yours, and as you watched him cover her with dirt, you stood with crossed arms and contemplated for a while. The crashing of the waves over the cliff edge called for you as you stood there.

You cannot stay here.

For the good of yourself and the good of him.

Too much is at risk now, and too much has been lost.

Too many thoughts fill your head, bad thoughts. Bringing him to the water all to sing a song to pull him into it.

You'll watch as he fights for air, trying to break the surface of the water once more, but you will not care, simply watching him fight and fight until all life leaves him and his soul has left you.

Foolish mortal men.

You hear your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you look at his sleeping eyes, then to the blood beneath your nails.

Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.

Crawling from beside him, you offer him one final look at you lean over the sleeping man, pressing a kiss onto his temple, watching as his hand curls around the pillow on your side of the bed.

Misery strikes you as you look at the empty spot, something within you urging to you to crawl back into bed beside him, only, you're reminded of the celebrations litter through the town, the festering buzzing of the flies in the cabin, and the swollen face of Serelia.

How is one to move past such when they lack the very emotion of remorse?

And how are you supposed to keep your emotions at bay when you feel an unquenchable urge to bring the village into the water?

Both are impossible to solve, and somethings are better off left broken, for, if you act on your anger, you betray the man you love with all your being.

But, if you act on love, you betray the women in the sea who are most likely worried sick with your disappearance. So, you take hold of the first dress he bought you, pulling it over your head, eyes teary as you look at him sleeping.

You're making the right choice in leaving, you say that to yourself when you place another chaste kiss against his cheek, allowing the thought to follow you as you push the door of his house open, stepping onto the pavement.

It follows you down the twists and turns of the street, leading you from place you have both loved and lost back to the ocean where you have only ever know strength and family.

The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.

Even during a violent storm you find you prefer the sea for the land houses people capable of despicable things, maintaining the ability of hurting you, not only on the outside, but also on the inside. You long for normality, for a sense of belonging again, and while you know you will always have a place in his bed and arms, you have a duty to fill elsewhere, an anger to keep at bay, people to keep safe.

You have to go, and you hope he understands.

A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.

But it's never going to be home again.

The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.

The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.

Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.

Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

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