#also i know he's supposed to have long curly hair but to be real I got tired

[cursed-and-haunted]

The Goat (figuratively & literally)

[coquettepascal]

felicitas and her general

summary: general acacius has caught your attention after being the first mortal to worship you in decades. you only face one challenge: don't get too attached.

warnings: rated g, contains spoilers for gladiator ii, follows the timeline of the movie somewhat, reader is the goddess felicitas (who is the goddess of good luck,) this fic is basically just an add on to the movie.

tags: goddess!reader x general acacius, emotional infidelity, lots of roman mythology stuff, writer is basing all her knowledge out of what she remembers from PJO and HoO, worship, complicated feelings, marcus does not cheat on lucilla physically, yearning, pining, grieving, guilt, major character death(s), stalking (kind of), a lot of obsession/dedication, angst, hurt no comfort but also hurt with comfort.

a/n: i watched gladiator ii and then was too emotionally devastated to finish this fic the way i planned. i really hope you all like this!! also, this fic is also dedicated to my dear friend @pascalssbabyy because she is my biggest cheerleader and i love her <33

wc: 7.2k (not beta read)

It was he who woke you.

A quiet sacrifice in the evening that felt like the freshest breath of air you could have, more intense than what you could have atop any mountain, near any spring. The scent of burning meat and smokey vegetables grasped at your lungs, and you almost choked on it. How long had it been since someone had offered you something so kind? Real food, not just scraps of something they didn’t wish for. 

You’d never complain about how difficult it is to be a minor Goddess, you know that you could be a mortal, but most don’t think of how Gods can fade. It’s a physical process, one where you’d notice how your fingertips passed through things like chalices and bowls, how a spoon slid through your hand once. The clatter of gold on the table was embarrassing, even though you were alone. Nothing about being forgotten, or fading, physically hurt. It was only mentally taxing, knowing that you weren’t as important as you once were, that mortals found you insignificant.

Generals used to come and offer things frequently sometime ago, but you couldn’t even begin to understand how long ago that was. When you’re immortal, or supposed to be, mortal lives seem fleeting. You had taken them for granted, and regret it now, for all you have now are the empty clouds above your temple. 

The last offering you can gather was from a young boy, who wanted to win a board game against his sister the next day. He had given you half a bun with strips of meat. Sure, it was thoughtful, but this was something rich. 

You finish inhaling the offering, and then hear the offerer's voice. But it’s muffled, and you want to see who it is anyways, so you swipe through the clouds and create a window to see. Then you can hear him clearly.

Someone who is clearly a general kneels at your altar, which is chipped and dirty. The ashes of the food are in front of him, smoking still, and you can taste the wealth in his meal. It can’t distract you from him though, he is striking.

Broad shoulders support a heavy, curly, grey, head of hair, which is bowed in honor of you. His body is widely built, sturdy for battle, and his voice is just as powerful. You’re so focused on hearing his voice you only catch the tail end of his request.

“... Allow me to come home safely, if not for Rome, then for my wife.”

Your heart squeezes, and you swear you can feel the ichor gushing through your veins. Scarcely when a General came to give you an offering all those years ago would he mention a wife, only ever wishing for luck in the upcoming battle or war. But here, now, you’ve been given a respectful request and offering. It isn’t a thought in your mind to not favor him now, your eyes closing and your mouth murmuring a blessing to him. It feels intoxicating to use some of your power again, especially on someone who asked for it. It also feels intoxicating to watch this General leave.

He looks around before he goes, seeming to note how degraded your small temple has become. The statue of you that lies ahead of your altar is yellowing, and ironically, multiple fingers have broken off. The General seems displeased by this, sighing as he exits the temple.

His gait is heavy, sandaled steps weighted as he walks down them and into the torch-lit night. You find yourself looking for him even after he’s disappeared from your sight, the warmth of gratefulness hugging around you. Part of you knows better than to play around with the thought, but still you wish to know more about him.

—

It worsens when he comes back. A few times a week he returns, offering rich foods. It’s been a month now, and you are coming back to life.

Fading didn’t feel like anything, but coming back feels like so much more. The first few offerings had your body feeling alight again, like the ichor in you was flowing again, but within the last two weeks you’ve gotten your fingertips back. They were tingling for a day and then the next you were able to properly grasp things again, nothing was slipping through you.

In that time you had also learned his name. A guard had come looking for him one night, and stood behind him whilst he prayed. You had found yourself smiling when he didn’t interrupt himself, instead acting aggravated once he had finished. The guard had apologized for interrupting and let him know that “Your wife wishes to speak to you, General Acacius.”

Acacius. 

You still don’t know his first name, but it is enough. You can think of it when you feel lonely, when you are bored. Something to associate with the offerings, with the blessings. The fact he has been so consistent hints at a desperation, which would usually repel you from blessing him, but he is the only one who seems to recognize you. His efforts are not going to go unseen by you, not when you have so little to do.

You can feel yourself conceding to your need to know him more, but just as you begin to fight yourself again, he shows up.

Tonight he’s dressed a little nicer. Usually he arrives in a plain tunic but this one has golden trim on it, and his hair is a little more tousled. He stumbles into your altar holding something in a cloth, but he’s walking like he’s… drunk? 

Acacius meanders to your altar, grabbing a torch along the way, and then empties the contents of the cloth. It produces a small dessert bun, a Libum, or honey cheesecake, and your mouth waters. So much of the food that is given to you is savory meats, masculine foods that are heavy on the senses, but this is sweet and delicate. You can, of course, eat whatever you’d like. You’re a Goddess, and though you aren’t major, you are still very fortunate.

But this feels thoughtful.

The General drops to his knees after lighting the bun ablaze, swaying slightly, and now you know he must be drunk.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he begins as normal, “I am sorry I am later than usual. Though I don’t know if Goddesses sleep. I was… caught up in other affairs, but I made it in time.”

He is less eloquent than usual and seems particularly focused on how it is nearly past midnight.

“I brought you this though,” he gestures to the half burnt bun. “I wanted to bring you something different than meat and… things. I thought a dessert would be fitting for that task.”

Acacius pauses now. His thoughts are probably muddled from whatever he drank, and you find yourself smiling. Foolery has never been so endearing to you.

“You have been listening to me, I suppose. My requests for luck in battle have been answered, as well as my safety being ensured. Your blessings have brought my wife peace of mind, something I could not previously afford to her.”

He looks so small in your temple tonight. Normally he is not so vulnerable, but his shoulders sag as he mentions his wife. Some sort of shame runs over him at the idea that he could not ease his wife’s worries, but it makes you feel better that you could help. 

“Goddess Felicitas, I come here tonight bearing no requests, just gratitude. Your blessings have soothed wounds I could not see, and I feel like a young soldier again. You invigor me.” 

Then, he leaves. 

You watch helplessly as he stumbles back down the steps and away from your temple, and more than ever you wish to chase him. The love he has for his wife is clear, and you hold no jealousy of that, but you wish it were you. Something in you is deeply attached to this General now. He has awoken you so much more than rekindling your power as a goddess, more than releasing you from the grief that comes with fading. Yes, Acacius has made your heart beat again, your mind curious again, and you feel seen. Being worshipped is not the same as being loved, if that were true you’d have had many children by now, 

But after so long being forgotten, this feels like what you remember being loved as.

—

You try not to interact with the other Gods for the most part. They tend to meddle in things they don’t need to, and are sensitive. You are not exempt from this stereotype, but that’s only more reason for the distance. 

But today, you venture to meet another deity.

Morpheus is not hard to find. He is pretty stationery where he is, usually lounging on a rock or bench near his temple, or above it in the clouds. He is a bit…dramatic, from what you remember, but wise. 

Today he is stretched out on a cloud above his temple, eyes shut. His pale skin stretches taut on his bones as his lean frame breathes deeply. But, he is not asleep. 

“Morpheus,” you speak. 

His body rolls toward your direction, eyes still shut, but a small smile on his face.

“O young goddess Felicitas, what brings you to me?” He questions.

It’s hard not to feel embarrassed. You’ve spoken to Morpheus on very rare occasions, but he’s always been somewhat helpful, though nosy. Dreams tell a lot about people, and when he’s the one giving them to people, it’s hard to hide anything at all.

You don’t want him to know of your true affection for General Acacius, just that he is… worthy of a visit. 

And so you begin to describe it to Morpheus, your need to visit Acacius. He doesn’t open his eyes at all, but he raises his eyebrows a lot and seems bemused at your situation. You’re only halfway through your rambling before he raises a gangly limb and waves at your words.

“Felicitas, you think you are the only Goddess wishing to visit her admirer? You need no explanation,” he says jovially. 

Morpheus reaches into the air and pulls 6 black berries into existence, then drops them into your open palm.

“When you know he is asleep, bite down on one of these and think of him,” he describes to you.

The berries smell like nothing, but a powdery residue is left on your skin as you roll them in your palm. It doesn’t repel you at all.

Tonight, you will visit him and express the same gratitude he did to you. 

—

Marcus lays next to his wife, Lucilla, with her hand in his. She fell asleep sometime ago, leaving him to lie awake by himself.

He didn’t make it to her temple tonight and the guilt is festering in his body. Marcus knows that she is a Goddess, that he probably isn’t a thought in her mind. He knows that he is just another whiney mortal, giving her food that isn’t nearly as good as whatever Gods eat. His insignificance grows as he feeds into his guilt. 

Stress has permeated his life for much of it, from his time as a young soldier up until now, as a General. Battles, politics, and his family, have created a breeding ground for him to be wracked with anxieties, but he stays strong. Thanks to his time in Felicitas temple, it’s been better.

Which is why failing to make it to her temple tonight is making him feel so bad.

He grabs at the linen sheets of his bed, stressing and trying to reassure himself until he falls asleep finally.

—

Being in a dream is weird. It feels much the same as it does when you disguise yourself as a mortal, the out of body experience is semi-familiar, but it’s weird because someone else is there.

You’ve been watching the General enjoy the lake in front of him for a few minutes now. He hasn’t slipped into it, but just walks along the waterline. It seems like he is looking for something. Surely his dreams usually contain more action, or perhaps are memories, so you assume it may be strangely understimulating for him.

The appearance you’ve chosen is one of modesty, but elegance. A seafoam green peplos hangs off your frame delicately, with golden clasps at the wrists and waist. You did your hair so it would be tucked out of your face. There is no guarantee that Acacius will recognize you like this, but you look much like your statue that’s within your temple.

Swallowing your nerves, you shimmer yourself into visibility. The grassy field is odd beneath your feet, and you walk toward him with uncertainty in each step. You’ve never met with a mortal before, and you haven’t stepped on anything earthy in a long while. His broad stature only becomes more daunting as you get closer, especially since he seems so focused.

You will have to speak first. You’re much too quiet in this environment, and you must act fast lest he wake before you get his attention.

“General Acacius,” you speak firmly, though your hands shake. 

This is so unfamiliar to you. You’ve barely even seen his face, as he’s usually bowed at your altar. It is the first time you’ll see him at an equal level, the first time you’ll have brought yourself to him rather than him to you. 

He turns quickly, an instinctual aggressiveness toward the unknown. You stand about 10 feet from him, eyes widening.

Acacius is striking. His nose is what you focus on first, strong in shape and line, but behind it are his eyes which look to you with wide acknowledgement. His hair curls around his head in greying ringlets, like a permanent laurel crowning him. The wide expanse of his back was once impressive, but now you can see the solid wall which he becomes when facing you. Nothing could push him over it seems, a man built to stand.

Your heart squeezes the way it did the first time he gave you a request, a tender rush tingling your whole body. No words come out of either of your mouths, and the General drops to one knee instantly. 

He recognizes you.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he rushes out in a breath. His chest is heaving as he bows his head and no, no this isn’t how you want this.

Your feet are moving before you can focus on your anxiety, bringing you so close to him that you can kneel too. Maybe a goddess should not kneel before a mortal general, but you are just on your knees rather than putting yourself below him. Your peplos billows a little as air rushes through it when you hit the grass.

He is above you like this, and you tilt your head to see his face again. His strong brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like he is afraid of you. 

“Acacius,” you say softly, “I am not here for… for ill reason. Please relax yourself.”

You lean back as he relaxes, head tipping upwards as he kneels in front of you as well. Now you can meet his eyes, see the crinkles that are beside them, and really take him in.

An energy of anxiety is shared wordlessly, with him stiff from the sight of a literal goddess, and you with the fear of… something. 

The identity of your anxieties isn’t something that you can figure out. Maybe it’s too much to see such a handsome mortal, or maybe it’s that you’re going to thank him for his offerings so personally. Maybe it’s humiliation from this act. What would other Gods think of this? Is it not degrading to become so attached to a mortal? Are you no better than Zeus or Hermes, the gods who interact too intimately with mortals? 

The sound of his labored breathing alerts you, calls your attention back to the present moment. 

“I wanted to thank you,” you admit meekly, “for your offerings. You have been very generous and… devoted.”

His eyes are shifty, and you can see the terror in him still. You don’t want him to fear you, but you can understand why. Visits from Gods or other deities can mean trouble, but you aren’t significant like that.

“General Acacius you are the first mortal who has acknowledged me in a long time,” you offer a vulnerability, perhaps trying to soothe him.

It feels so backwards for you to be kneeling in front of him, speaking. He has done so in front of your altar for many weeks now, but now the spots are switched, yet you are still in power. You avert your gaze as you speak up, wanting to request something of him.

“You’ve been so generous to me, General, I was hoping to know more about you.”

And now, rather than scared, he seems suspicious. 

“To know me?” He clarifies. 

You nod.

“I only know your last name. I think I could offer more luck and splendor if we were more… personal.” 

Gods that felt awful to say. You’re no better than the whorish brutes on their thrones, offering petty glories for intimacy. Everything feels flirtatious but that’s not what you’re looking for. Acacius has a wife he clearly loves, you would never want to interrupt that. 

He seems to hesitate, but he knows he cannot refuse you. So far your blessings have brought ease to his life, he wouldn’t want to lose that.

“Then… yes, I suppose I can offer myself if it would please you.” He responds stoically. 

And it does please you, to know his name. Marcus Acacius, the one who woke you, the one who has saved you from being a fragmented memory within the temples. 

Marcus Acacius, who you are too fond of.

—

You visit him 3 more times. In an attempt to space out the usage of the berries Morpheus gave you, you only visit him once a week. The bleak tasting berries are sour on your tongue, a rotten sour which lingers once you wake up, but it’s worth it.

The two of you have grown closer, with Marcus opening up more. He tells you about the stresses in his life, how much anxiety is buried in him. But, he’s confident for the sake of his wife. You’ve learned that her name is Lucilla, and much more about her. Marcus talks about her a lot, in passing or retelling something she told him. In the small amount of time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve gotten to know her as well.

It burns you with a strange warmth, a desire and envy which makes your stomach growl. You are hungry for him to admire you in the same way, to speak of you, but doesn’t he already? Shame grips your throat when you think of it. You are a Goddess who he sacrifices to, who he wishes to have blessings from. What more do you need? A mortal couldn't offer you what another deity could. 

After the fourth meeting, you found yourself lonely. Lazing back in the clouds above your temple, you woke with a deep hunger. Marcus is beautiful, an admirable man, and he loves passionately. You are already being such a glutton for even speaking with him, meeting with him repeatedly, so why must you yearn for him too? 

Worship isn’t enough, you want what you will never let yourself to have.

Nothing hints that he might feel similarly. His starry gaze which lands on you is not due to your beauty, your personality, or anything more. You have blessed him, and that is why his eyes glitter. Goddess status has never made you feel so low and isolated. Still, you are happy to help him achieve what he wishes, even as it cripples your heart.

Tonight you plan on visiting him. That fourth visit was a week and a half ago, he may be wondering where you are. He still comes to your altar each night, but the prayers are less personal. Marcus saves his stories and ramblings for when the two of you are in the field, or near the lake, when the two of you are really alone.

—

You bite into the berry at around midnight. Its tangy yet death-tasting juice floods your mouth, clinging to the crevices between your teeth and staining your gums. Closing your eyes, you think of Marcus, and his curls, and his eyes, and his nose, and his strong hands.

And then you are there, and he is waiting. 

It seems like his subconsciousness has picked to be at the lake today, and he’s sat in the sand at the edge of the water. You walk over to him, but notice how… down he appears to be.

“She is not happy with me,” Marcus confesses before you even sit down.

You stand a few feet back from him, looking at how his curls fall around his bowed head.

“Lucilla?” You ask softly.

He nods.

A wicked feeling begins to steep in your heart. She is upset with him, he is in need of you for something more than a blessing. 

And so you listen. 

It’s one of the longer meetings the two of you have had. Marcus doesn’t cry, but he seems truly upset. He’s been called to go off somewhere far again, to fight and kill. Reassurances that you will protect him as best you can only soothe him so much. 

He doesn't care if he dies, he cares that his beloved is distraught over this. 

The more the two of you talk, the closer you get. There are marks on the sand from where you originally sat, but now you kneel in front of him, with creased brows and worried eyes. This isn’t something you can fix, you aren’t familiar with love and its intricacies. 

His knees were tucked closer to his chest before, but they’ve loosened now and his fists rest atop them, clenching. Frustration sits on his face like a mask, one you wish to take off him.

Touching is not… something either of you partake in. Sometimes your shoulders will brush when you sit together, but nothing more has ever been initiated. 

That is why it doesn’t surprise you when he flinches as your hand reaches out to rest on top of his right clenched fist. 

“Marcus,” you say softly, wanting to offer comfort, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he replies swiftly.

At first it hurts, watching as he waves off your hand from his own, but then you look at his face rather than where your hands were joined. The frustrated look on his face is gone, replaced with something worse, something guilty. His eyes aren’t glittering at you like usual, nor are they hardened with anger.

They’re soft pools of conflict that mirror your own.

It doesn’t soothe your burn, satiate your envy. You can see in his eyes that maybe you aren’t alone in these feelings of admiration, of want, but maybe this is not what you want.

Maybe you want a different universe, one where he doesn’t have to be a mortal and you, a Goddess. So you wouldn’t have to worry about him dying, and have this friendship survive off death flavored berries. Maybe you want a universe where he isn’t married, where he could be yours and you wouldn’t feel like a spectator to his heart.

Maybe you want that, but you won’t get it.

Instead the flames of jealousy die in your chest and are replaced with tumors of guilt. Your whole body feels bloated, embarrassed, and ugly. 

The pair of you stare at each other, a stupid realization between the both of you as you realize that your secrets have been spilled, even though it’s the same one.

His eyes don’t move from yours, so you move from his.

The sandy edge of the lake does not look so bright now, even though there are no clouds in Marcus’s dream. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly. 

You will not follow him into whatever battle he’ll win. Don’t embarrass yourself, Goddess.

He tells you two weeks. You say you’ll see him before then.

Then you wake on a cloud again, with a cavity of guilt in your chest.

—

Marcus wakes alone. 

Lucilla had not wanted to sleep with him that night, choosing to stay elsewhere. She didn’t tell him where, she left in a quiet flurry of tears and anguish.

It’s easier for him to feel guilt over his Goddess than it is to hurt his beloved, even if it is the same.

In a moment of frustration he grasps at the sheets, turning over and biting at his pillow. The bed is so cold, and the room smells like stale air even though the window is open, the night breezy. 

He knows she is beautiful because she is a Goddess. All Goddesses are beautiful, ethereal beings that mortals cannot even comprehend at times. Marcus knows he is lucky to even perceive her, for her to have chosen to visit him.

Yet through all her blessings, he feels cursed.

A plague of emotional infidelity is crawling through his body, sticking to his bones and making him stiff. Everything he does has felt flat for so long, from pretending he is grateful to the Emperors, to now pretending nothing is wrong in his marriage. He’s scared, and exhausted.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face after rolling over and sitting up in bed, groaning into his palm. 

At first he tried to blame her for it. What would a Goddess want from a successful General other than a demigod hero son? What could truly be so special about him? He assumed she was manipulating him, using some sort of power to morph his heart, but now he knows it is not true.

If she had wanted to, she would have had him by now, and he knows this. If she had wanted to, her hand would have stayed where it was tonight, and pushed him further. It isn’t unlike the Gods to force themselves on a mortal, but she didn’t.

Instead, his hand feels hot where hers rested, and his mind is spinning. 

Marcus doesn’t fall asleep again, afraid that he’ll see her. 

—

You wait for a full two weeks before you visit him again. He had been coming to your temple less, and you had assumed he was busy with preparations for the coming battle. 

The stubbornness you felt that night has not left you. At first you did not leave your temple in fear that you would grow attached, now you remain there because you have grown attached. 

“Enough is enough,” you had thought to yourself. 

But it is hard not to miss him, and his soothing prayers. The way his offerings tasted of smoke and sweet, and how he’d always burn such a large portion. Marcus never gave you scraps, he seemed to refuse to. 

However, you can only distance yourself so far. 

It is quiet when you approach him. He is sitting in the field this time, the lake a distant glitter in your eyes. He does not face you, but his head isn’t bowed like before.

“Marcus,” you greet, your voice muted.

He raises his head, turning over his shoulder and nodding, as if to direct you to come closer, and so you do.

Tonight’s visit isn’t vulnerable, or even pleasant. Marcus seems so distant as he dryly tells you about how he’s preparing, and his wishes to return safely. His eyes barely meet your own as he talks, and he continuously twists the ring on his finger.

It grows tiring, watching him ramble about politics you could care less about, listening to him say things that have nothing to do with him. He’s so far from the friend you thought you had made. When the air between you goes quiet, you don’t fill it for a while. You listen to the sound of the wind in the grass as his eyes still will not meet yours. It’s breaking you apart.

This is the last night you’re able to visit him, unless you visit Morpheus again. You will not waste it like this.

“What is ailing you, General?” You ask, deciding to prod more than you usually do.

To your surprise, he scoffs in light laughter.

“You,” he responds quietly.

His words don’t hurt, at least not yet. You have the option to walk away now, wake yourself and leave him with his final blessings, but of course you don’t.

“Me?” You ask, “what have I done?”

Marcus rolls his shoulders back, lifting his head to look into the everblue sky above the both of you.

“You have made my life difficult, Goddess.”

Difficult? You have made his life difficult?

You have half a mind to tear him to pieces, curse him with something awful like snakes for toes, or spoons for teeth. After all that you’ve done for him, all the safety you’ve provided, he is telling you that you make things difficult? How dare he? Be outraged, Goddess, for he disrespects the holy luck which you bestowed to him.

That’s what you should think, that’s how most of you should feel.

But instead you feel small, and hurt. Yes, he is disrespecting all that you’ve given, but also you feel like a failure. Your physical existence is because of him, because he did not let you fade. All you wanted to do was make his life easier, help him to have an eased mind and a safer life.

But instead, he’s telling you you’re difficult.

It feels like your body is shrinking in the white peplos you’ve worn, the sheer fabrics swallowing you. Shame is flooding in the form of tears behind your eyes, wetting your orbs with an unexpected outburst of emotion.

“I am sorry,” you manage weakly.

Marcus does not look at you while you cry, and you want to believe it is because he cares too much to watch, but you cannot verify that.

The wind picks up again, but it does nothing to hide the soft cries you can’t hold back. Once you were a fading Goddess, now you are just a failing one.

There is no luck involved with love.

Eventually he speaks again, with his head turned away from you.

“I am sorry too,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that makes you ache.

So much is said in such little words. He is sorry to you, for you, and with you. A sorrow is shared between the two of you, knowing that your hearts ache for one another as they are worlds apart yet on earth together. 

This last berry was only supposed to mark the end of your visits, not the end of everything. It feels like this is all there is for the two of you, since it’s too complicated to continue on like this.

That’s why he doesn’t move away when you move closer and rest your head on his shoulder as tears leak down your cheeks, or at least that’s what you’ll believe. 

—

Time moves weirdly when you’re immortal, but it all happens so quickly.

Marcus stopped coming to offer things for you, and so you were blessing him less. Admittedly you had kept an eye on him, but not a keen one. It didn’t feel right, not when you and him weren’t… friends anymore.

But this feels too soon, too fast, too unfamiliar. Has your sadness caused you to be blind?

You watch as a man kneels in front of Marcus, panting and bloody with a sword beside him on the ground.

The only reason you are here was because you had felt the roar of a crowd all the way at your own temple, a wide distance away. It had drawn you in, and instead you had found this.

That roaring which you had heard crescendos to a new height around you as you shimmer into existence, cloaking yourself to the mortal eyes in the stands of the coliseum, but existing enough to touch him.

Arrows stick out of his front, more crushed beneath his back, as he is slumped on the white, gravel, ground. His hair is curled with tacky blood streaking through it, and he is so, so, still.

You drag your hand across his forehead, feeling the remaining heat, and in the echo of the crowd you begin to sob. 

Everything around you is moving, changing, fighting, and screaming, but you sit invisible in the center of the coliseum, running your hands over the now dead General Acacius. There is nothing you can do to bring him back, to ease Lucilla, to save him and apologize. He is dead beneath your fingers, with arrows lodged deep in his irreparable, mortal, flesh. 

You were supposed to keep him safe.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you keep grasping at his armor, unable to move him or yourself. The last visit felt official, but this feels final. There is nothing more for you here, no friendship in a corpse.

Thoughts are running through your mind at the rate that your breath is puffing from your chest. The question of where he will end up in the afterlife is overwhelming you, and the chance for him to go to Elysium feels reasonable. It’s where he should be, where he deserves to go, especially after all he had done for Rome. You don’t even care why he’s here, or why he seems to have been brutally killed, but after the time you spent with him, Elysium seems right for him.

—

It’s where he should be. Elysium is where he should be.

And it’s where you find him.

His place there is somewhat similar to his and Lucilla’s home back in the mortal world, with lush greenery and airy drapes that flutter in various colours. It seems like he has left space for Lucilla here too, with space left in the chests for her things, and a permanently made half of the bed.

Elysium offers a true celebration of life for heroes, demigodly or not, and you’re sure Marcus has been enjoying that. Anything that he had been shackled to in his mortal life was gone now, and it seems that all he would have to miss is his wife. 

Most of your time is spent there, in his afterlife home. You peer from behind curtains when he comes back, hidden in drapes and keeping yourself small. 

He is already dead, but after the last time you abandoned him, you cannot bear to leave him alone again.

The vision of him, bloodied and murdered on the coliseum floor, flickers into your mind every time you see him lying in his bed. It’s an obsession to be near him, to be looking after him. Pluto might not even know you’re down here anymore, but what does it matter?

Marcus Acacius was the last living mortal to worship you. In the underworld, you are beginning to fade. Your fingers are slipping from you again, which is making it easier to lurk near him, but it is a painful process.

You want to speak to him. No longer do you yearn for his love, not after being in his home and seeing how dedicated his heart truly is to Lucilla, but you yearn to speak to him again. A panicked emotion runs through you at the thought of fading alone, of being entirely forgotten. 

It didn’t matter before he died, fading was just something bound to happen, but now it’s more. Is he forgetting you?

—

You’ve lost most of your arms by the time you work up the courage to speak up. Lucilla arrived sometime ago, joining Marcus in the afterlife. Watching them together brought some warmth to you, some kind of happiness that you couldn’t have for yourself, but seeing it for him was enough.

You sit on the terrace of their home, invisible to their eyes, and somewhat to your own. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbows, you are a specter. Grey shadow fills where your limbs used to be, and they pass through all objects. You couldn’t tap his shoulder if you tried.

Oftentimes you sit, hidden, and ponder by yourself about more than Marcus. There were so many things you were adamant about when he was alive, and you regret it all now. Your determination to avoid your feelings, or at least not show them, and your need to not become attached… it bites at you now, a stinging, grieving, venom, that won’t leave. Your status as a Goddess blinded you to how tender that friendship could have been, and now you sit as a ghost spectator to his afterlife, obsessed with a mortal as a fading immortal. 

The tips of your fingers pass through the glass you try to grab as you think of this on the terrace. You’re glad that you’re such a minor deity, so at least you do not have to feel so humiliated about fading. A smile has just graced your face as you feel blessed for being so unimportant you can essentially stalk this mortal, when suddenly his voice cuts through the humid air of the space.

“Felicitas?” Marcus’ voice asks.

It’s so hesitant that you think you’re imagining it. You thought you had their home to yourself right now, thinking they had gone to do… whatever souls do in Elysium, but when you turn your face, he is there.

Marcus has not worn fancy clothing in a long while now, and right now is no different. He stands before you in a plain looking tunic, which just graces his knees. To see him at ease has been so nice, but he looks distressed at your sudden appearance.

You cannot find your voice as you awkwardly stand up, trying to think quickly. There is no good way to explain what you’re doing here, hidden away in him and his wife’s home. You could just vanish into thin air, but that feels wrong. He has seen you already, any attempts at pretending you aren’t here would be ridiculous.

His eyes scroll from your face down to your arms, and the smoking shadows that used to be there. Concern pinches onto his face with knitted brows and pressed together lips.

Something in you wants him to turn away, so you don’t have to think about why he is worried for you, even after all the trouble you caused, but he doesn’t.

His sandaled steps are heavy as he comes to you, reaching for your hands but finding the gesture fruitless as his own slip right through yours.

“Dulcissima,” he speaks weakly, shock woven in his words.

You had told him about fading a little while ago, when the two of you were in that field. Now it seems the severity of it has hit him.

What is hitting you is the name. Dulcissima, or sweetest. How long had it been since you had been referred to so fondly? All at once you are being remembered, recognized, and shown some affection. It feels like too much and tears are falling out of your control.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, “I was supposed to– to keep you safe.”

Marcus is shaking his head already, refusing your apology.

“No, no. You did keep me safe, you did. I pushed you away, I couldn’t control myself and I caused this,” he argues. 

It does not comfort you that you both blame yourselves. You wish to reach out to him and touch his face like you should have when he was warm and alive. You want to know if he is cold now, and it’s as if he hears you.

Marcus places a hand on your cheek, a softness in his eyes and hold that says that he missed you.

“I saw you,” he claims, “when I was on the ground. You were the last thing I saw.”

Somewhere between life and death for mortals, there are moments of godly clarity. Some see the light, others see their families and memories, but in that tiny glimpse of time, some see Gods. 

He was able to see you as you knelt over him, sobbing as you were cloaked to any mortal's naked eye.  You were the last thing he saw, and the last thing he truly regretted. 

All you can do is stiltedly nod at him, feeling like you were in trouble even though it seems he’s not upset.

For a moment, his eyes flick away, contemplative, but then he meets your gaze again.

“I told Lucilla of you, before I died. Not– not of my feelings which I struggled with, but that you were a close friend, a blessing in many ways.”

A blessing in many ways.

Another choked sob is wracked from your chest, your bottom lip curling out embarrassingly as your face contorts. He almost coos at you, the thumb on your cheek rubbing away your tears.

“Goddess, I have missed you,” he admits. 

Stupid nods are all you can offer, your voice imprisoned in your ever tightening throat which cries. When he was alive he was never this tender, too confused and insecure to ever touch you, but it seems he has been regretting things too.

“Felicitas,” he says quietly, “do you come here for ill reason?”

You shake your head this time, rather than nodding. You have no reason to be here, other than the fact that guilt has taken over your mind and heart since he died.

“Then relax, dulcissima. I have an offering for you.”

Marcus relaxes his stature, eyes still gazing over you. He looks at your fading palms and you watch him swallow nervously.

“I will worship you again, lending you offerings here, and all I ask in return is for our friendship again.”

It’s the opposite of how you met, almost completely, but it’s everything you need. You will not fade, he will not struggle in marriage, and you will have one another again. 

Again, you are nodding stupidly, but soon you’re embraced by him and nodding into his chest. His hands grasp at your back as he tells you how much he missed you in his final weeks, how he regrets losing you entirely, how he requires you as a friend. 

You are satiated in his arms as he comforts you, awakening you again there on the terrace. Unbeknownst to you, Marcus has let tears slip down too as he holds you close. 

“You will keep me safe here?” he asks jokingly.

It makes you smile, the idea of offering luck to a man who already died.

“Yes, General. I will keep you safe here, from all the horrifying glory and splendor,” you assure.

The two of you laugh, breaking the embrace but staying close. A passionate connection is still between the two of you, but in a different way now. Maybe when he was alive it was romantic because it is all you could think of, but through his death the two of you have come to understand it more. 

You require one another in a unique way, and leaning on one another does not have to be intimate the way he is with his wife. Marcus does need you, just as you need him, and now that you are both immortal in a way, you will never be separated again.

please leave a comment, like, reblog, askbox, or ANYTHING. i'd love to hear thoughts on this <33

tags (people who seemed excited for this) (sorry if these dont work)

@pascalssbabyy , @moonshapedflan , @gossipgirl-03 , @kyloispunk , @frannyzooey , @coocoolahh , @bug-boy32 , @honeymarvel , @magicalmorg , @1deakybass , @tuquoquebrute , @harryshousewhore , @teeagain, @chewie-bars , @vampyyweek , @queenslandlover-93 , @amijenn , @aquanatalie

[helloalycia]

𝐈 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐑 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] // 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: Lucy Gray has always been there for you, the only person you care for as much as you do. So much, in fact, that when you discover Mayfair's plan to have her reaped in the Hunger Games, you know you have to stop it. Even if it means giving up your own life.

warning/s: the usual warnings that come with the Hunger Games.

author's note: okay so someone requested another lucy gray imagine where reader volunteers for her, so that’s what i did but kinda did it a little bit different as the usual volunteering storyline feels very been there done that lol. Hope you all like it anyway! there’s a second part too :)

two / masterlist / wattpad

It had been a long a day, my feet hurting from being stood up for so long and my exhaustion from working a long shift worsening by the second. But as soon as the clock hit 5pm, all my energy returned and I was quick to leave my apron behind as I left. Working at a crockery stall in the markets wasn't a terrible job, and it paid decently, but some days dragged longer than others and I only wished for it to end.

Thankfully, tonight was also a night that the Covey performed at the Hob, so I made my way over there, specifically behind it where the musical group got ready before performances in an abandoned garage they claimed as theirs. I always met before their shows, wanting to wish them luck and also because Lucy Gray, my best friend, would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't stop by beforehand.

"There you are!" Maude Ivory, the youngest of the group, called me over once I stepped in the open door. "You took forever!"

"I'm like two minutes late, Maude Ivory," I defended myself, and a smile fell on my lips when I saw her pouting. "Sorry."

"Can you braid my hair like last time?" she asked politely, already turning around and readying herself for me.

"I sure can," I agreed, smiling at the others as they got ready before moving to braid Maude Ivory's hair.

It didn't take long, just a simple braid around the crown of her head, complementing the rest of her hair that was left out in a way that made her look like a princess. Adorable.

"Oh, I love it!" she gushed, immediately looking in the mirror to appreciate it, and I watched her with a smile. "Thank you, Y/N!"

"No problem," I said dismissively.

"Wow, you look beautiful, Maude Ivory," Lucy Gray appeared beside me, smiling down at the younger girl, and then she gave me a playful look. "Favouritism much?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "All you had to do was ask."

She immediately took a seat on the chair Maude Ivory was moments ago. When I didn't move, she glanced over her shoulder at me with a knowing nod. "Well, go on then."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly before moving to braid her hair next, squeezing her shoulder slightly in retaliation, and I knew she was smiling all the same. As I'd done many times before, I combed out Lucy Gray's curly hair with my fingers, unknotting it the best I could, before separating it into two parts and giving her two over-the-shoulder braids.

"You done?" she asked impatiently, definitely trying to annoy me.

I finished tying off the second braid before rounding the chair to take a look. Her brown eyes looked up at me adorably, and even though she did nothing special, my heart fluttered in my chest at the attention.

Okay, so maybe I liked her a little more than friends, but I couldn't help it. She was the only person I had in my life that meant something to me, the only one who truly cared. After becoming friends many years ago because we happened to play in the park together as kids, she was stuck with me, and I suppose my gratitude for having her in my life turned into adoration somewhere along the way.

The only real family I had was my father, but he had been bitter towards me since my mum died only a few years after I was born. He hated me without saying it, and I sought love in friendship with Lucy Gray. Though, it was so much more than that on my end. But she could never know, for I'd rather have her in my life like this than not at all. And I would never risk jeopardising that, ever.

"Don't move," I warned her, before leaving the garage for a moment to pick a flower I'd seen just outside.

When I returned, I was surprised to see her sat how I'd left her, though pouting. I carefully slid the flower at the top of her braid, near her ear, and stepped back to admire my work.

"You're done, Little Miss Impatient," I finally said with a stifled smile.

She gave me a disapproving look before moving to the mirror to check it out. Her facade faltered as a warm smile tugged at her lips and she admired the view.

"Okay, I'll let you off since this is pretty nice," she said jokingly.

"Wow, only nice? I thought it was much more than that," I played along.

Her smile widened as she approached me, before kissing me on the cheek and hugging me briefly. I was expecting neither, my brain short circuiting as quickly as she pulled away.

"It's beautiful, Y/N, thank you," she said truthfully, losing her humour. When I didn't know what to say, too busy trying not to think about her lips against my cheek, she said, "You're stayin', right?"

I blinked, dazed. "Huh?"

She began to chuckle, and then her question truly sank in and I cleared my throat, nodding.

"I– yes, I am," I said, giving her a small smile. "Where else would I be?"

She rolled her eyes playfully before turning to the others. "Right, guys, are we ready to blow everyone's socks off?!"

As always, I enjoyed my evening at the Hob, cheering the Covey on and staying for all their performances as promised. It was always so lovely in there, except for the occasional fight that would break out between the miners and Peacekeepers, but none of that happened tonight. I was tired by the end of it all, as were the others, but as we all walked out together, Lucy Gray tugged my hand back.

"Hm?" I said, yawning as I looked to her.

"Are you in a rush to get home?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"No, why?" I asked curiously.

Excited, she said, "Come to the lake with me."

I quirked a brow. "Now?"

Expression softening, she nodded. "Yeah, it'll be nice. It's a clear night too."

Another yawn escaped my lips and I covered my mouth before shaking my head. "I dunno, I'm a little tired and it's getting late."

"C'mon," she insisted, before grabbing my hand and forcing me to follow her, but not before looking to the others and adding, "I'll see you guys later!"

"Don't make too much noise when you're back!" Barb Azure, the eldest of their group, warned her.

"I won't," Lucy Gray mumbled, and then we were off and I just about managed to wish everyone a goodnight behind me before we were too far from them.

"How aren't you tired?" I asked as I fell into step with her, accepting my defeat and knowing I couldn't really decline her offer anyway. "You've been onstage all night."

She shrugged. "I'm a little tired, but I wanted to spend more time with you. You've been workin' loads lately."

I sighed, feeling a little bad. "Sorry, it's the house. Payments are falling behind and my dad is getting on my back and–"

"Hey, I'm not complainin'," she stopped me. "I just miss you."

A small smile crept on my lips at her unwavering honesty – that was one thing I'd always envied about her. She could say how she was feeling without overthinking how it could be perceived, whereas I was the complete opposite.

"I'm right here," I assured her, and then she glanced at me with a smile that warmed my heart.

"How is he?" she asked. "He still standoffish with you?"

"Isn't he always?" I said, a little bitterly, before shaking my head. "Never mind him anyway. Doesn't matter."

Probably sensing my mood, she said, "You're right, it doesn't. You have me."

I was glad it was dark out, otherwise she would've seen the pink dusting my cheeks.

We continued our walk to the lake, talking and trying to stay awake long enough to make it there. It was a long walk on a regular day, but tonight it felt even longer because of the constant stepping around and trying to find our way in the dim light of the moon peeking through the trees. Still, it was comforting to be around Lucy Gray instead of back home where my dad would no doubt be on my case, so I savoured the time together.

By the time we reached the lake – in particular, a spot where a cabin sat, with a dock and boat beside it – Lucy Gray and I were wide awake, any hint of exhaustion for the evening dispersing with our trek. We both took a seat at the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the side, and she nudged my arm gently.

"Look how pretty the water looks," she said with amazement, and I hummed in agreement.

It was beautiful out tonight, the lull of the water lapping over itself and shimmering in the moonlight providing the perfect view for a perfect evening. Being out here always put me at ease, but being out here with Lucy Gray was indescribable.

After a moment of quiet, she nudged me again and I took the hint, following her lead as we both lay on our backs to look up at the night sky. If the view before was great, then this was amazing. Stars filled the sky, dazzling and bright and filling me with a sense of awe. It was different than seeing the stars from my house – this was all open, isolated, peaceful. I loved it.

"How many have times have you been here at night?" I asked Lucy Gray curiously.

"Not a lot," she assured, "but enough to know that it'a perfect for stargazin', and you love that, so I wanted to show you."

I chuckled a little. "I do. Thanks."

Another quiet enveloped us, only the sound of the water, the trees rustling gently and some birds in the distance to be heard. I could have stayed like this forever. It certainly would have been an upgrade from my usual life.

"Did you see Billy Taupe earlier?" Lucy Gray asked suddenly.

Billy Taupe was her ex-boyfriend and an ex-member of the Covey, but we'd all be ignoring him for a few weeks now after we'd discovered he'd cheated on Lucy Gray with the mayor's daughter. As a result, him and said daughter, Mayfair Lipp, weren't fond of us, especially Mayfair, who seemed to hold a personal vendetta against Lucy Gray.

I nodded, glancing at her, but she was still looking at the sky. "Yeah. I avoided him, but him and Mayfair were glaring at me for sure."

She exhaled quietly, troubled.

"Did he say something?" I asked, attention fully on her now.

"He confronted me between one of my performances," she admitted, piquing both my interest and concern. "Started talkin' about how I needed to stop badmouthin' him to the rest of the Covey."

I furrowed my brows. "You haven't though. If anything, you barely mention him."

"Well, he doesn't seem to think that," she said with an eye roll.

I frowned, hating to see her upset at the likes of him yet again. "If he keeps bothering you, tell me. I'll have a word with him."

As if I'd said something hilarious, she began to smile and then laughter spilled from her lips. "You're cute, and I appreciate it, but you shouldn't get involved. Him and Mayfair are capable of a lot."

"Lucy Gray–" I started, ready to retort, but she cut me off with a serious stare, her smile fading.

"Promise me, Y/N," she said sternly, dark eyes boring into mine.

I gave in instantly, embarrassingly enough. "I promise."

Visibly relieved, she relaxed and nodded slightly before sitting up and stretching her arms. I watched for a moment, though thoughts of Billy Taupe and his foulness stuck in my mind. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Same with Mayfair? Didn't they have anything better to do?

"Say, you ever been for an evenin' swim under the stars?"

I blinked, barely paying attention. "What?"

She glanced down at me with a smirk, before standing up and beginning to step out of her dress. Realising what she was doing, I sat up and started to protest.

"Lucy Gray, it's gonna be cold and dark and–"

But she beat me to it, her dress pooling by my feet as she dove in from the edge of the dock. I wiped my face with mild annoyance as she splashed me, watching as she resurfaced with a laugh.

"C'mon, you gon' leave me hangin'?!" she exclaimed.

I narrowed my eyes at her with distaste, but as always, I couldn't say no to her. So, grumbling to myself petulantly, I stepped out of my own clothes and dove right into the water next to her. It was cold, as suspected, but as I resurfaced, my body was already getting used to the temperature. It was still the middle of summer, so it was actually quite refreshing in the evening heat, though my complaints of it being dark were still valid.

"Not bad, right?" Lucy Gray asked me with a grin.

I pushed my hair from my eyes and gave her a reluctant glance. "I suppose not."

Her grin only widened, and then she looked up, eyes reflecting the moonlight and shimmering like the water. "Look."

I looked up too, amazed by the sight of the sky yet again, but before I could say anything, Lucy Gray splashed my face with water, making me shriek with surprise.

"Lucy Gray!" I scolded, wiping my eyes as she laughed. "You did that on purpose!"

Her laughter only increased, and then I was attempting to splash her back, but she was swimming backwards and then I was swimming after her, her laughter filling the silence of the woods and brightening up the place more than the moon ever could. I eventually grabbed her and splashed her face enough for her to spit it out and cease her laughter.

"Okay, okay, you win!" she gave in, wiping her eyes before playfully glaring at me.

It was my turn to laugh and she rolled her eyes lightheartedly before swimming around me yet again.

We stayed there for a little longer, splashing about and talking about everything and nothing. It was easy to forget everything waiting for me back home, or my job that I didn't want to go to, or the reality of our lives. No, all I had to focus on right now was Lucy Gray's voice, her company, her.

But it was seriously getting late, no doubt past midnight now, and all good things couldn't last forever. We were floating on our backs, staring at the sky in a comfortable silence, and I hated that I had to interrupt it.

"We should go back," I said reluctantly, stopping floating. "If my dad realises–"

"Right, yeah," she agreed apologetically. "Come on."

We both climbed out the lake in a peaceful silence, tugging on our clothes and shoes and squeezing the water from our hair the best we could. As I was doing just that, I felt her eyes on me and looked up with a confused smile.

"What?" I asked, feeling the last of the water drip down my wrists as I let go of my hair.

She began to smile unabashedly. "I'm glad I have you. Thanks for coming tonight. For being here."

My face was heating up, but I played it off with a playful eye roll. "Weirdo."

She chuckled quietly, shaking her head, before leading the way back to the Seam.

It had been a long day at work and the last thing I wanted was to come home to my father being grumpy, and yet that was what I'd gotten a few days later.

As soon as I walked in, I saw him home too, looking around the kitchen with a clenched jaw. He must have just got back from the mines, judging from the coal dust covering his clothes and skin.

"Hey, dad," I greeted politely, though already feeling tense because he didn't seem to be in a good mood.

"The hell is all this?" he asked me, ignoring my greeting and instead motioning to the dishes on the table.

"What do you mean?" I asked with confusion, leaving my bag by the door.

"It's a mess in here," he said with irritation. "Did you not clean up?"

"Dad, I've been at work all day," I reminded him, sensing he'd had a bad day at work, because he wasn't usually this hostile. "When would I have cleaned up?"

He raised his eyebrows, as if I'd said something absurd. "Excuse me?"

I swallowed hard, not liking the way he sneered at me. "I–," I started, but stopped because I didn't know what to say. Technically, they were his dishes. His mess.

"Y'know, I work really hard to keep us alive," he said with a glare. "And the least you could do is keep the place tidy. You do fuck all anyway!"

I clenched my jaw, frowning and trying my best to contain my annoyance. "I know you do. But these were your dishes. From breakfast. I didn't even eat, I just left."

"Oh, so it's my fault?! That what you're saying?!"

"You're not listening!" I couldn't help but shout, getting sick and tired of his behaviour. "Look, you might have had a bad day at work, but you can't just take it out on me!"

"You don't know what I get up to at work!" he shouted right back. "It's not like yours, standing there, looking pretty! It's hard labour! Something you could never understand!" Then he motioned around and added, "Clearly! This place is a tip!"

I clenched my fists behind my back, but my anger was building up. "It's a tip because of you, dad! You leave it a mess! Then you come back and you blame it on me!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" he yelled. "Have some respect!"

"Then actually try and listen to what I'm–!"

I couldn't even finish because he suddenly slapped me across the face, a sharp, blinding slap that knocked me off my feet for a second, leaving me stumbling into the kitchen table. I blinked, tears pooling in my eyes.

"Clean this place up," he snapped, before turning around to go to his room, slamming the door behind him.

I breathed out slowly, eyes burning now, and tried to ignore the pins and needles on my cheek. It wasn't the first time he'd hit me, and I should have been used to it, but it still took me by surprise sometimes. I hated it. I hated him. I would have done anything to leave, but I had nowhere to go.

Needing to get out of there as I calmed down, I left through the front door, waiting by the side of the house. I took in some fresh air and wiped furiously at my tears. He was the worst father a child could ask for, but he was the only one I had.

My face was hot and I was glad I couldn't see my reflection, knowing it would just be red on one side. As I finished wiping the last of my tears, I heard footsteps from behind me and sucked up a breath before turning around, worried it might be my father, back for round two. Thankfully it wasn't, but it was Lucy Gray.

She was smiling at first, then her eyes took in my expression and it faded instantly.

"What happened?" she asked straight away, stopping before me.

"Nothing," I assured her, though my cheek was still flaming, and she wasn't stupid.

She looked back at my house, and then back to me with a frown. "He was upset again, wasn't he?"

I looked to my shoes shamefully, not needing to answer. She knew what he was like, but it was something I hated to put on her. Nonetheless, she understood, and she touched my cheek gently, making me wince.

"You should stay with us," she muttered, trying to find my eyes, but I wouldn't look up. "We'll always have room for you, Y/N."

"I can't," I said with embarrassment. "And he's not always like this. It's– I'm handling it."

"No, you're not," she said, letting go of my cheek.

I didn't want to argue, nor did I want her pity, so I cleared my throat and looked up with the intention to change the subject. "What did you come here for anyway?"

She wasn't happy as she gave me a worried look. "Y/N–"

"Lucy Gray," I pleaded, before she could say anything more.

Giving in, she exhaled quietly. "I wanted to see if you wanted to go on a picnic with us tomorrow. You're not workin', right?"

At the sound of something much nicer, I relaxed and nodded. "I'd like that."

She seemed to relax too. "Good." Then she glanced over her shoulder at the house again, before adding, "You're stayin' with us tonight."

"I'm not–"

"You are," she insisted stubbornly. "You still have a few things left from last time."

I sighed tiredly. "I have to clean up. He's gonna be mad."

"We'll clean up together, then you're comin'," she reasoned.

"I'll do it myself," I told her, shaking my head. "You know he doesn't like me hanging around with you."

She looked ready to protest, but I shot her a pleading look. The last thing I wanted was to set him off again, especially in front of Lucy Gray. Thankfully, she seemed to get this and nodded reluctantly.

"Fine, but hurry up," she gave in, taking my hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "I don't like you in there alone."

"I'll be quick," I promised, before leaving her to clean up.

My dad was still sulking in his room, so I was able to clean up quickly and let him know where I was going. He didn't answer, nor did he stop me, so I left and met Lucy Gray back outside. She took my hand without question, not letting go until we reached her place. I was glad not to be alone tonight.

A week later, it was another fun evening at the Hob where I watched my best friend perform and I didn't have to worry about work or my dad or anything. It was just like any other evening there, nothing out of the ordinary, or so I thought.

During one of Maude Ivory's talented solos, I got up to the go to the toilet, making it a quick one so I wouldn't miss a thing. But as I left the women's toilets, I caught sight of Billy Taupe and Mayfair chatting around the corner in hushed voices. I didn't care at first, trying to ignore they existed for Lucy Gray's sake, but then they mentioned the singer herself and I couldn't help but eavesdrop a little.

"...doesn't know when to keep her trap shut and herself to herself," Mayfair was saying bitterly.

"She's a singer," Billy Taupe reminded her. "That's what she does. Just ignore it."

Mayfair scoffed. "She thinks she has everyone in this town wrapped around her finger because, what, she can sing? And put on a little show? Well, you know what, we'll see how she sings her way out of the reaping!"

I froze from behind the wall, wondering what she meant by that.

"What?" Billy Taupe asked, just as confused but suspicious as I.

"She may have the looks, honey, but I have the connections," Mayfair continued, her hushed voice growing increasingly more annoyed as she spoke. "You just wait until reaping day. Lucy Gray won't be bothering anyone for much longer."

My eyes widened at her threat. What the hell was she talking about?

"What are you–" Billy Taupe started, but the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath my weight made him stop, and I cursed inwardly.

Before they could even consider investigating, I slipped away between the doors unnoticed, back into the main room where everybody was distracted by the singing, dancing and drinking. My head was reeling though, trying to piece together what I'd just heard.

There was no way Mayfair would do what she was implying, right? She wouldn't just sabotage the reaping because of a feud, surely? Would she? If she did, then that would mean Lucy Gray would be chosen as tribute and–

Oh, God. If she was chosen, she'd be shipped off to partake in the Hunger Games and that was it. She wasn't a fighter, she was a performer. And the Games was no place for someone like her. I'd never see her again. And her family– oh, no. No, this couldn't happen!

What could I do to stop this? Mayfair would never listen to reason, especially not from me. It wasn't fair, any of it.

Suddenly, I felt nauseous at the thought of everything playing out just as Mayfair wanted. Needing some fresh air, feeling overly stuffy in the Hob, I pushed past everyone and stepped outside, ignoring those who were enjoying a cigarette or drink and trying not to throw up.

I couldn't lose Lucy Gray like this, not because of some stupid feud. How badly could Mayfair hate her to do this? The Covey would be broken without her. She was too valuable to everyone. And she was all I had.

"Y/N?"

I turned around, seeing Lucy Gray approaching me with a concerned smile on her lips.

"What happened?" she asked, stopping before me.

I blinked, my thoughts still racing around. "What?"

"You left lookin' upset," she said worriedly. "What happened?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, shaking my head. "Nothing. I just feel sick. Might've eaten something funny."

Her smile faded, replaced by a concerned frown. "Oh, gosh, do you wanna go home? Go to ours? I can walk you back. The others won't mind if I leave a little early."

She was watching me carefully, patiently, dark eyes flittering around my face as if she'd find the problem just like that. She was too kind for her own good and I couldn't help but think about how unfair this all was. She wasn't a bad person at all. How could Mayfair do this? Why couldn't I do anything about it? There had to be something!

"Y/N?" Lucy Gray said, before pressing the back of her hand to my forehead with concentration. "Hmm, you do feel a little warm."

It wasn't fair.

Without thinking, I hugged her tightly, promising myself there and then that I would fix this. She wasn't going to be subjected to Mayfair's wrath, not if I could help it.

"Woah, what's gotten into you?" she said with surprise, but returned the hug.

"Sorry," I mumbled, before pulling back and clearing my throat. "I just need some water. I'll be fine."

She quirked a brow. "You're sure?"

I nodded, trying my hardest not to worry her anymore.

"Okay... good," she said with relief, before a smile curled on her lips. "I've got a new song I want you to hear."

I returned her smile, letting her tug my hand and lead me back inside, but the truth of what I knew was already starting to suffocate me.

For days I mulled it over, trying to convince myself that maybe I misheard or misinterpreted Mayfair's words. Or that, maybe, Mayfair didn't have as much power as she was letting on.

But deep down, I knew it was true, and she was just petty enough to send Lucy Gray to her death. Which then brought me to my next problem: what could I do to stop it?

Mayfair was the mayor's daughter and the mayor was the one who chose the names for the reaping. It was pretty solid, with no interference from me able to stop it. But what was I to do? Do I tell Lucy Gray? Her family? At least, if I did, it would give them time to prepare. But how exactly? Would it not be easier to just let it play out as to not ruin their last moments together?

I didn't know, and it was so much information to carry, eating away at me little by little. What I did know was that I couldn't lose Lucy Gray. What would my life even look like if she was gone? What would the Covey do without her?

Lucy Gray was loved, needed, wanted. She couldn't die, not when she'd be so dearly missed and had so much left to give. If only I could take her place... I knew I would if I could. Nobody needed me or cared for me, nobody but her. But she'd get over my death. And my dad couldn't care less. If it meant saving Lucy Gray, I would do it. After all, I loved her.

But I couldn't, because it was her name to be picked, not mine. And with her name, she'd walk onstage and I'd never see her again. How could I change that?

[scatterbrainedbot]

I AM SPINNING I AM PACING I AM FULL ON FROLICKING IM SO EXCITED

@d1sc0rd1a THANK U FOR THESE TAGS

okayokayokayokay so pretty much all of these questions will be Officially Answered properly in the character design/intro pages im working on but also i am physically vibrating with excitement about the fact that you noticed all these details and i have very little self control so! lore dump time!!!

(minor tw for mentions of leos self-harm/self-destructive anxious behaviors and unhealthy coping skills)

- mikey does indeed have curly fur! i believe he would be considered a 'rex' rat (pictured on the left) for this trait? though the curls can be more easily seen on mice (pictured on the right). or, at least it seems that way. have not delved too deeply into the details of rodent genes and husbandry, but id assume its the same sort of mutation considering curly haired mice are also referred to as rex sometimes? either way hes a extra floofy bby 🧡

-as for raphie, unfortunately being more fluff and less shell than the average rapheal comes with its downsides. especially if you and your brothers occasionally encounter things like territorial dogs, hungry cats, or sewer crocodiles while exploring places ur dad said not supposed to go. (most of his scars will have more ninja related stories, but his ear i think got messed up from something very animal. probably around age 11 ish? old enough to sneak out from dads protection but young enough to not fully know how to handle himself alone against real danger. thankfully his ear injury looks worse than it actually is for the most part, as the damage was largely to the outer ear. his hearing wasnt super affected, except that he now has a bit of a harder time being able to track/pinpoint noises origins if its on his right side.)

-also yep! dons got some glasses that just clip/rest on the bridge of his nose! theyre mostly just for home use, as they do fall off if hes knocked around. in the field he has some goggles he tends to use (theyre helpful as they have multiple additional functions like heat-imaging, extra zoom/telescoping, and recording capabilities. but also theyll give him headaches if he wears them for too long without breaks). contacts are theoretically also an option but he absolutely hates the sensation of putting them in. so sometimes when hes tired he'll just not bother with either clips or goggles and just squint and struggle. leo hates when he does that lol.

-speaking of leo, he is def an anxious baby :) he has a few patches of fur missing on his hand cos he has the tendency to tug on it while hes thinking. he yanked and chewed on his own tail a lot when he was younger too, which is why when hes older he usually wears some wraps to cover the scars left from that behavior. he finds those scars specifically to be kinda embarrassing and shameful because they werent from any battle or life-lesson, just his own 'inability to control himself'. all of his brothers have repeatedly called him out on the fact that that is not a healthy way to think about his anxiety or mental health, but leo insists hes fine. hes kinda convinced himself that a proper warrior always has control over his own body* and his own thoughts, thus he should be able to just like willpower-brute-force his way into 'being better'. (this line of thinking pisses raph off so much he has to leave and go hit something)

Splinter also tries to talk him through some of that internalized guilt/shame/everything, but splinters very metaphorical, poetic, and indirect when it comes to talking about Big Things, which combined with how much leo gets caught in his own head, makes it kinda hard to gauge how much these talks actually help

*this is made extra fun considering leos also ftm trans, so he is faced with a body that fundamentally disobeys him perhaps more than the average rat-man.

-and im still going back and forth between a few species for splinter, but im leaning mostly towards an African Spurred Tortoise! they have these beautiful if kinda subtle geometric shell patterns and are the third largest species of tortoise in the world. the only thing that doesnt fit perfectly with Splints is that (allegedly) their lifespan in captivity is around 50ish years, whereas im p sure Tortoise Splinter is well over 75, probably closer to 90 when the boys are born and hes mutated into Old Man Papa.

but maybe hes just a particularly long lasting African Spurred Tortoise.

the Hamato family has taken very good care of him for many decades after all. :)

(well. until everything all fell apart, that is.....)

[vaultdwellerbarbie]

i want your midnights

javi rivera/f!reader (3.2k words)

summary after spending a week and a half away from javi, it becomes clear to both of you that you'd rather not spend any time apart at all.

content warnings pretty much just p with very little plot, smut, unsafe sex, car sex, making out in public, also with a hint of domestic bliss at the end

before you inquire "august, didn't you just say you were throwing up blood last night??? how did you find time to write smut???" when you're a real fucker, you always have time. also... twisters leaked in hd where are my javi gifs??

Agreeing to take a later flight was the right thing to do, the kind thing to do. Coming back to Oklahoma after a pitch-meeting with Kate that had gone on for well-over a week was draining, but you would have felt especially guilty if young boy - who looked like he couldn’t have been older than fourteen - needed to wait hours to get home to his family. So, you agreed to take the next soonest flight home.

One delay led to another, and you didn’t get to leave the airport until five hours after you originally intended upon leaving. Kate felt bad, but you reminded her that you had made the decision and that you would see her tomorrow. Javi, on the other hand, seemed to be losing his mind every time you spoke to him.

It was as if he was growing progressively more unhinged with the second, and you weren’t sure how long he had been hanging around the general vicinity of the airport. It wasn’t that he was mad, he just seemed sad that you weren’t there. Granted, you missed him more than you cared to admit.

Having been a Wrangler, you weren’t really supposed to speak to Javi. The two teams didn’t like each other, most of the people he worked with at the time were stuck-up and rude. It was toward the end of a summer, when things were starting to wind down, that you struck up a conversation with him. He was incredibly attractive, he looked good in everything he wore, and when his hair got all wet and more curly than it already was you felt like you were going to go insane. But you didn’t live in Oklahoma, and as soon as winter hit, you weren’t going to see him again for a long while. 

One thing led to another, and for the rest of the season you were sneaking around with him whenever you got the chance to do so. Whether it be because your team was in the area, or because his team had branched out and gone to your area. It really didn’t matter, what mattered was that you consistently found a way to hook up with each other even though you both knew that you probably shouldn’t.

If that wasn’t bad enough, you figured out eventually that it wasn’t normal to describe your ‘casual hookup’ as ‘the most beautiful, angelic boy in the world - and have you seen his freckles??’. Turns out, it wasn’t really casual at all. Thankfully, he stopped working for Storm Par, and with a bit of convincing from Kate, a partnership was formed. A partnership that meant that you no longer had to hide your relationship or pretend that it was just hooking up when you both knew it was a lot more than that. 

The plane-ride wasn’t even that long, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity of knowing that Javi was just sitting there waiting for you, an eternity of wishing that you could see him now - or could have seen him hours ago. At some point, everything that happened on the plane became irritating. If the bathroom was occupied for two seconds when you needed to use it, it was a problem. If a child made too much noise, it was a problem. When someone snored a bit too loud, it was a problem. Every little thing became a problem, you couldn’t even claim to be fond of your own playlist by the time that you finally landed. Perhaps it was because you were sleepy, and you couldn’t sleep with the anticipation of knowing that you would soon see Javi. But that thought alone had you thinking about him again, it was going to be about ten at night by the time that you landed, and he would have spent most of his day sitting around in that airport just waiting for you to get back. You wanted to thank him in some way, but nothing felt good enough - you’d just never really had anyone willing to go to that length for you, even though he really didn’t have to. 

By the time that you did land, you were rushing through the airport to find him. It didn’t take too long, because there he was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. Your lips spread into a wide smile, rushing down the escalator and letting your bag rest beside you as you nearly tackled him in a hug. The airport was predominantly empty, at least in this area, since it was getting late and you weren’t in a massive city. There was nobody to complain about you stopping right at the bottom of the steps or even too many people to worry about taking your bag for the few moments that you have it set down. 

Javi didn’t seem to mind, though. He encouraged you to tackle him, if the feeling of him keeping your legs around him for more than two seconds was any indication. His lips were against yours in an instant, your fingers tangling into the back of his hair until he deepened the kiss.

“Javi- Javi, we should go outside.”

“Mhm.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, another one against your neck, before you pressed a finger against his lips.

“You gotta put me down.”

“I can carry you, you’ve had a long flight.”

“But my bag-”

“I can do both.”

It took about one step for you to realize why he was insistent upon carrying you. “You really missed me, huh?”

“It’s been like torture, especially today.” He complained, another absentminded kiss pressed against your neck as you moved to hide your face in his shoulder. Even though barely anyone was there, people were still around. PDA wasn’t something that you weren’t used to with Javi, but never to this capacity and never around strangers. But he was needy, you could tell from the feeling of him pressing against your thigh. 

“Javi, baby, just get me to the car at least.” 

“You got it.” 

How he managed to get to his car as quickly as he did was beyond your own comprehension, but he did. The moment he got to the car he let you down, keeping an arm snuggly around you as you both worked to get the suitcase into the trunk. Javi shut the truck, but made sure to push you against it after a moment. You let him kiss you for just a minute, stopping him the moment that his hand got down to your ass.

“Javi-”

“I need you.”

“In the parking lot?” You took his face into your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. He was so beautiful, even if you could only see him under the light of dim streetlights and the further away lights coming from the airport’s runway. His skin was always so soft under your hands, and the feeling of his warm body against yours made you want to forget about all of the voices in your head telling you that having sex in the parking lot was an absolutely terrible idea. But, the sight of headlights pulling in had you sneaking away from his grasp. “Take me home, and we can do whatever you want.” 

“It’s a long drive.”

“It’s not that long.” 

“It’s like… thirty minutes.” You turned to face him as he settled in his seat, though he looked far from settled. With one glance toward the predominantly empty section of the parking lot you were in, you moved so you were on his lap. Javi’s hands instantly moved to cup your ass, holding you against him as your lips crashed against his. 

“You should take me home.”

“A little hard when you’re on top of me.” He responded, a buck of his hips against yours causing a yelp to come out of you. The thin fabric of your leggings didn’t seem to be doing you any favors, but they seemed like a good idea earlier in the day - comfortable, not going to bother you on the plane, not like you could have accounted for how horny your boyfriend would have been the moment you stepped foot in Oklahoma. 

“You’re not making this easy for me, Javi. It’s been a week and a half.” You mumbled, your lips trailing to his chin, reaching his neck. Finally, you pulled back. “I need you, too.” 

“You have me, if you’ll let me.” 

Glancing out, you sighed. There were people, not a lot of people, and you weren’t sure how likely it was that they would see you since it was so dark out. “You’re evil.”

“I’m not-”

“Evil, Javi.” You responded, moving back to your seat; not without a fleeting kiss to the corner of his lips, but back to your seat regardless. “Please drive.”

Javi was silent for a few moments as he drove, letting you take the time that you needed to pick out what you wanted to listen to. The issue, similar to the one that you had been having on the plane, is that everything was annoying you. Nothing you listened to made you happy because the only thing that could make you happy was Javi’s hands on you, but he kept those firmly planted on the steering wheel. It wasn’t until the fifth time that you changed a song that you typically liked that he realized that he was definitely getting under your skin. 

“Want me to help you?”

“Sure, you can pick a song.” 

“Not what I was referring to.” 

Turning to him curiously, your breath hitched in your throat upon feeling his hand on top of your thigh. 

“May I?” 

“Promise not to crash the car?”

“I promise not to crash the car.” 

Once you gave the go-ahead, he grinned at the sight of you parting your legs for him. Still, he took the time to feel you through the leggings, quirking a brow at how you had seemingly gotten wet enough that he could feel it through the thin fabric of your pants. 

“You want me that bad?”

“I told you, you weren’t making it easy for me.” You replied, watching him as he moved his hand further up your body just to slide his fingers into the fabric of your leggings. Despite his neediness, he took his time. His hand ran all along your thighs, played with the fabric of your panties, everything that you figured that he wouldn’t have time - or energy - to be doing. But, clearly he did. 

“Javi, please.” 

“I’ve got you.” His voice was so soothing, but he continued to tease you for at least a few seconds before his fingers moved where you really needed him. Your head fell back against the seat as you kept your eyes locked on him. He really was a sight, but he knew that you liked looking at him. “You need to look at the road.”

“W-why?” Your mind was elsewhere, the feeling of two of his fingers pressing into you caused a whimper to leave your mouth.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to pull over.” 

You glanced out toward the road, there really was nothing going on past the airport. The treeline was dark, and you were pretty sure you hadn’t seen any cars for at least a few minutes. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was how good his fingers felt pumping inside of you, but whatever inhibitions that you had were gone. 

“Pull over, Javi.”

“What?”

“It really is a long drive.” 

Finally processing what you were asking him, Javi pulled over into an empty parking lot that he was about to drive by. Whatever the place was, it was certainly abandoned. The moment the car was off he had you in his lap again, your hands fumbling with his pants while he worked on getting the seat back as far as it could go. 

“You have no idea how badly I’ve needed you all fucking day.” He complained, moving his hands from the seat to your leggings. You moved off of him a bit, letting him remove them from your body before he harshly pulled you back down onto his lap. The moment he was free from his pants he had his head thrown back, your hand covering the length of him. He let you do what you wanted for a few moments, but there was only so long that either of you could go before giving in to what it was that you needed. 

“I have some idea.” You responded, sighing at the feeling of him rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt. “A lot of idea, actually.” 

“Did you miss me, baby?”

“More than you know.” You responded, your forehead falling unceremoniously against his shoulder as he pushed into you. Moving your head away from him, your hand covered his cheek again. “I love you, Javi.”

“I love you too.” His tone was softer, but it was just as needy as it had been when you had first kissed him. As contained as you were trying to be, it was clear that both of you were having a difficult time keeping your hands off of each other. Granted, he was the one who started it since he was the one who couldn’t keep his hands off of you in the first place. 

The moment his lips were against yours again was the moment you started moving. He helped guide you, but you were pretty sure it was mainly because he wanted to keep his hands on your hips. Despite all of the weird places that you’ve had sex with Javi, a car hadn’t been one of those places for quite some time. The last time you’d done this together in a car, it had been when you were still sneaking around and weren’t sure where you could go that nobody would notice. His car seemed to be the only option at the time, but it was never preferable because of all the windows. Plus, that time was different - you were in the backseat that time, so you had a bit more room. 

“I wish I had more patience, I wanted to take my time with you.” He admitted, parting from your lips. His lips trailed down your neck, resting for a moment before he looked at you as he moved to tug your shirt up. Giving him the room he needed, you allowed him to remove the shirt before he reached behind you to unhook your bra.

“If you take that off, I’m just warning you-”

“It’s not going back on, I know. I know you.” He replied, a gentle smile covering your lips as you let him do what he wanted. “Just make sure to bring it inside so the neighbors don’t give us looks.”

“Deal.”

Once the bra was off, you resumed your movements while Javi kissed lower down on your chest. Arching your back towards him reflexively, you squeezed his arm slightly when he took your nipple into his mouth. The feeling of him inside of you, against you, with his mouth on you - it was a lot, since you had gone a week and a half without even being able to see him. It felt like an absolute eternity, and you were partially grateful that it took you so long to actually see him today since you weren’t too sure that you wanted your other friends to see him be incredibly, incredibly needy. 

Perhaps that slight overwhelmed feeling was why you didn’t really notice when he moved a hand down the front of your torso until you could feel his finger pressed against your clit. 

“Fuck, Javi- feels so good.”

He moved his head up, leveling his face with yours. The kiss was sloppy, your hand moving to the back of his neck and your fingers lacing into his curly hair. Neither of you seemed to mind, though. His fingers continued to work against your clit, your grinding becoming more and more erratic as he started to thrust his hips up into you. You were certain that, if you got a little bit more distracted, you were going to end up hitting your head on the roof of the car. Still, you couldn’t be too concerned with that. The only concern on your mind was how good it felt to be with Javi in that moment, and how you never wanted to be separated from him for that long ever again. 

“I’m- where-” Javi was no better off than you were, already thinking about where you wanted him to finish. He always made sure to ask, even though you could both sometimes forget important things like condoms. But you were on the pill, and you also weren’t so sure that you were going to be able to give him the time to pull out even if you wanted him to.

“Inside- please, do it inside.” Plus, you kind of liked the feeling of him finishing inside of you, but that was a conversation for another day. 

As Javi brought you to your climax, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him was what brought him over the edge. Your lips melded with his, your moans coming together to the point that you weren’t sure who was louder. By the time that you did pull away, there was a big goofy smile on his face that just made you want to kiss him again. 

“Have I mentioned that I love you?” Your voice was breathy, but it only made his smile grow wider. 

“A few times. Have I mentioned that I love you?”

“I few times, I could always hear it a little more, though.” 

It was… a struggle to get you off of him so you could go back home and it was even more of a struggle to figure out how to get dressed again in the car. Eventually, you managed, and by the time that you made it to his house, whatever adrenaline had been keeping you going was wiped out.

“Can I carry you again?” 

“You don’t need to.”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” He replied, grabbing your suitcase from the back and holding an arm out for you at your door. 

“At least let me take my own suitcase to the door.” You replied, stepping out of the car. But, Javi was persistent. So, even though the walk was only a few feet and you definitely could have made it even though you were exhausted, he insisted. But it was nice being held by him, being against him. He was warm and comfortable and he felt like home to you, that was a feeling that you could never quite get enough of. 

For the first time in over a week, you were able to cuddle in to the warmth of Javi’s chest, and he’d be damned if he let you go. Anywhere, for the next day. You both may have been exhausted that day, but his touch-starved tendencies continued on throughout the next day and they ended up being mildly contagious. Some part of you blamed the fact that you had to delay your flight by a few hours, and that part of you is eternally grateful that you were ever given the opportunity to do so.

[bad268]

A Ride Home (Corpse Husband X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Yee on Wattpad (AGAIN me checking my messages wow)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: You/your

W.C. 1118

Summary: False promises and first meetings

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^White Shirt cover)

It was only supposed to be a small get-together with some of your internet friends. That’s it. That was all you agreed to when Rae first brought it up. 

“There will only be like five people there, I swear,” She had said. Lies. “You’ll know everyone there.” More lies. “When have I ever steered you wrong?” Clearly, there was a first for everything, you thought.

You had no idea whose house you were at, and you don’t know how this “small get-together” of five people turned into a full-blown party with nearly 50 people.

You decided to keep to yourself against a wall by the door. You wanted to make sure if Rae left, you would leave with her since she drove you, and you, once again, did not know where you were. Your phone had died long ago or else you would have navigated back to your apartment and walked, regardless of how far. You were nursing a cup of &lt;em>something</em> as you sat on the floor against the wall, casually watching around at the people moving around the room. Anytime you would make eye contact, you immediately snapped your attention down to your drink as your hands shook with nerves. 

“So much for relaxing,” you chuckled to yourself as you downed the last of your drink. You sighed as you pushed yourself up and made your way to the kitchen to refill the cup. Just your luck, you walked into the kitchen that happened to be packed. In that group, Rae happened to be standing next to a tall man with curly hair. You wanted to go up to them, to tell Rae you wanted to leave, but you also did not want to interrupt their conversation or have the attention turned to you. You waited until the man started walking away before you grabbed Rae’s arm and pulled her to the side, whisper-shouting, “You said a small get-together, not a full-blown frat party! I want out.”

“I can’t drive you home,” She responded, clearly drunk which made you roll your eyes in annoyance. “But my friend, Corpse is going home! I can have him give you a ride home!”

“I would rather walk than get in some random guy’s car, Rae, but thanks,” You said, giving her a tight-lipped smile as you turned on your heels and walked toward the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Rae shouted over the music booming in the living room, causing a few people’s attention to snap towards the two of you.

“Rae, shut up!” You seethed as you pulled her out the front door. “I don’t appreciate the attention and I don’t like the idea of getting into some random dude’s car! That’s how people get killed.”

“Nonsense! Corpse is a close friend of mine,” She explained, “Plus, he’s harmless!”

“That’s what they said about Ted Bundy,” You deadpanned before deciding to sarcastically add, “And with a name like Corpse, I’m sure he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Well, his name’s not actually Corpse,” Rae added as if it were no big deal, “I don’t actually know his real name. That’s just his gamer tag.”

“Oh great! Even better! You don’t even know the guy’s name!” You replied in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Rae.”

“My name’s [redacted] if that makes you feel better,” A deep voice from behind you interrupts, causing you to turn around to meet the tall man with curly hair from the kitchen. You were speechless. From far away, he was pretty, but up close, he was stunning. His eyes bore straight into yours and you lost all thoughts. 

“Y/n,” you said back, breathlessly, still in awe and slight embarrassment. In your shock, you did not notice Rae get dragged back into the house. The two of you did not really know where to start, so you spent the next few moments in silence. That was until Corpse cleared his throat. 

“I hear you needed a ride home. If it’s the same area I’m heading, I could drop you off,” he offered.

“Thank you, but I’m on the outskirts of San Deigo. I’m probably out of your way,” You admitted, dismissing his offer before starting to walk down the driveway.

“Actually, I’m in the outskirts, too,” he stopped you, reaching for your arm but never grabbing it. “What are your cross streets?” You told him what they were and watched as his face turned from interest to shock. Once you two got the cross streets clarified, he led the way to his car and opened the passenger side for you. He pulled out of the neighborhood as you started making small talk. All was well until you mentioned that you lived in an apartment. “No way, are we in the same apartment building?”

“Mine is F213,” you said, skeptically but also interested to know if you two were so close.

“Did you just move in like a month ago? I just got a new neighbor and I’m pretty sure that’s the number,” Corpse laughed as he pulled up to a stop light and looked over to see your eyes wide. “Ha, we’re neighbors and we didn’t even know!”

“First things first, don’t rat me out if you hear things at 3 AM,” you chuckled, pointing a finger at him but he gave you no mind as he continued to drive. “Rae pulls me in for random lobbies, and I might get a little heated sometimes.”

“As long as you don’t rat me out,” He laughed in response. “Sometimes, I’m the one that makes those lobbies and pulls Rae into it.”

You two continued chatting as he drove through the streets of California (almost getting killed by a few stupid drivers), even stopping at In n Out on the way back for dinner. You both found out that Rae told both of you it was going to be small, and you found out that Michael was the one who pulled everyone in. By the time Cropse pulled into the parking complex, you did not want the night to end. You decided to say something after you walked up the stairs and were just about to split off to go to your separate apartments.

“I had fun hanging out with you tonight, Corpse,” You started. “You are funny and you are super easy to talk to. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

“We don’t have to end here,” Corpse started. “I am supposed to play Party Animals with my friends Jack and Felix. We need four people, and our friend Dave back out earlier today. The spot’s yours if you’re up for it?”

“Count me in,” you laughed, moving to unlock your door, ready to play.

~~~~~

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[steddiealltheway]

It’s been a while… but here’s a (long (oops)) ficlet :) tw: some blood.

 

Dustin calling after the whole mall incident wasn't really abnormal to Steve anymore. Sure, if two years ago before the whole monsters are real and they're living in Hawkins thing happened, Steve would have scoffed at the idea of some freshman boy calling him multiple times. But here he is, and, honestly, it was secretly one of the things he looked forward to - not that he would ever openly tell Dustin without some coercion. But this call is different... 

Different in the way that Dustin is screaming about Eddie Munson but not in awe. He sounds more on the verge of panicking, and if Steve didn't know better he would think the demo-somethings were back in Hawkins. But, something about a fight and Eddie needing help is the only message that gets through. 

And although it is Steve's day off and he slightly despises Eddie for no good reason, Steve finds himself racing to his car and making the familiar journey to the school.  

Eddie Munson. A loud mouth that would disrupt classes with jokes that were way funnier than Steve would ever like to admit. After graduation, Steve thought he would never think of Eddie again. Well, maybe in some fleeting ways whenever he saw a guy with long hair but... no, not at all. But then Dustin started high school and the Eddie in Steve's head and the Eddie Dustin kept talking about slowly and quickly turned out to be the same person. 

They had never directly interacted, just shared a few fleeting glances, nods, and maybe Steve had caught Eddie staring at him in high school a few times and maybe even shot him a smile. But that was only one time... maybe more than once, especially whenever Steve picked up the kids from the D&D sessions. 

But this time... a fight? What is Steve supposed to do? Was he supposed to bring ice or even show up at all? And what happens when he's forced to talk to Eddie? 

Steve takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. Why is he so nervous? He hasn't felt this way since back when he first started talking to Nance. Which makes no sense. 

He takes another breath and focuses on the road. Or rather the small stretch of road slowly turning into a large parking lot. 

Steve parks and hopes that no one notices him as he makes his way inside the school. Luckily, it’s lunch time so a random person wandering around won’t be too strange. 

Steve ducks his head as he makes his way past a group of students and hopes no one recognizes the notorious fallen “King Steve.” As he rounds a corner and approaches an empty hallway Steve lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He does not miss this school. 

Also, where is he going? Dustin really could’ve give him more information. It’s not like he’ll know exactly where… 

Steve knows exactly where to go. In fact, he already started walking there before he knew it. He’s only been to the room once or twice when Dustin and the other kids have stayed a little too close to their curfew or the one time Dustin dragged him in telling him he “had to see Eddie’s metal setup.”  

Steve had to admit that it was impressive, but he was more interested in the blush Eddie was trying to hide behind curly hair. Not because it meant something like that to Steve. It was just… just. Just that he was confused about what it meant?  

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the door in front of him. It’s familiar not in terms of actually seeing it, but because it runs through Steve’s thoughts often. Must be Dustin. 

Steve takes a deep breath and mutters, “Why the hell am I treating this like breaking into the Russian military base?” 

A groan from the other side of the door has Steve immediately shoving the door open.  

“You can’t be in he- Steve?” Dustin says and immediately runs to Steve and wraps his arms around him.  

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, squeezing the kid and glancing around. He finally spots Eddie on the floor with a dark blanket dramatically wrapped around his shoulders. Or maybe it’s a cape. Steve isn’t sure. His head is ducked down so Steve can’t see the damage. 

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie drawls out the name, and Steve nearly shivers. “Jason must’ve knocked a few screws loose because I thought you were just a figment of Dustin’s imagination. But here you are.” He glances up and Steve winces.  

It’s clear that Jason is right-handed with the way Eddie’s face is battered on the left side. It’s not nearly as bad as Jonathan, but Eddie definitely is going to be left with a black eye. There’s a small cut on his lip that is slowly leaking blood down Eddie chin, and Steve almost scoffs because it’s clear that Eddie is keeping the drop there for dramatic effect.  

The bell dismissing lunch rings and Dustin looks between Steve and Eddie panicking. Steve squeezes his shoulder and says, “Go to class, Henderson. Can’t miss a period of learning.” 

Dustin nods seriously at Steve then turns to Eddie. “You’re sure you’re okay here?” 

“Our beloved king is here to save the damsel in distress.” Eddie cracks a smile and winces. “Yes, you are dismissed.” 

Dustin nearly sprints out of the room, but stops when Eddie yells, “Wait!” He hesitates until Dustin turns back to him. “Thank you, Dustin.” 

Dustin smiles and goes to open the door. Steve stops him by prompting, “What do you say back?” 

“You’re welcome,” Dustin huffs then runs out the door. 

“He’s going to be the death of me,” Steve comments as the door closes. “But he’s a good kid, but don’t ever tell him I said that or-” 

“Are you here to finish the job or what?” Eddie asks, his voice cracking slightly. Steve turns and takes in the way Eddie’s usual confident smirk is gone. Instead, his lips are in a tight line as Eddie swipes at the blood on his chin. His other hand is tightly clutching the blanket cape wrapped around him. The look in his eyes is fearful as if he really thinks Steve is going to beat him up. 

Steve slowly approaches him with his hands up. “Hey, Eddie, I’m here to help. I promise.” 

Eddie looks just as on edge as Steve approaches him but he doesn’t look like he’s about to run. Steve sits down in front of him and glances around. He spots what looks like a wet washcloth on top of a bag of ice. “Does Henderson have some in with the nurse or something?” Steve lightly jokes. 

“He must,” Eddie comments, not looking at Steve.  

Steve nods to himself. He doesn’t know how to act around this Eddie, he’s used to the usual bravado and dramatics. Not that he minds this timid version of him, but he just wishes he would trust him more. 

He grabs the washcloth and holds it up to Eddie’s face slowly. Eddie flinches slightly but lets him slowly swipe at the blood collecting under his lip. Steve can’t help but stare at the full lips and wonder… 

He snatches the washcloth back and shakes his head. What is up with him? He grabs the ice next and wraps the washcloth around it. He makes sure to put the non-bloody part on the bruise next to Eddie’s eye. “Looks like you’ll have a bit of a black eye but nothing too bad. How’s your head though? Any signs of a concussion?” Steve asks gently, knowing that the headache after a concussion is killer. 

“Head is kind of fuzzy honestly, but I don’t think it’s the concussion,” Eddie comments quietly. Steve glances from where he’s pressing the ice against his head to Eddie’s eyes which are locked on him. Gosh, he’s gorgeous- or his eyes…. His eyes are gorgeous. Is that weird to think? 

Steve looks back at the ice and adjusts it. When Eddie winces, Steve grabs one of the hands gripping the cape and squeezes. “Sorry.” 

“Not your fault. Well, maybe by association a bit your fault. It’s like all you jocks trade in your brain for your horseplay,” Eddie says with a bit of a sneer. He seems to realize who he’s talking to and apologizes with a quick, “Sorry.” 

Steve shakes his head. “I wish I could blame sports for all my stupid decisions, but here I am. Not that coming here was a stupid decision. I just mean… in general.” 

Eddie takes a moment to stare at him before replying. “Maybe it was a bit of a stupid decision. I don’t really think a freak is worth all the fuss especially from a king.” 

Steve groans, “Please, I hate that nickname.” 

“Which one?” 

“Both of them,” Steve says seriously. Eddie continues to lock eyes with him and squints them as if he’s looking for something. “See something you like?” Steve flirts before realizing what he’s done. 

Eddie smiles and shakes his head. “Maybe you have changed.” 

Steve shrugs and looks down. “I’m trying, man.” He clears his throat when he notices out of the corner of his eye that Eddie is still staring at him. “So, Jason did this to you?” 

“Yes,” Eddie answers immediately, tone colder than before. He glances off if recalling what happened. 

Steve pulls the ice pack away from his cheek and sets it down. He runs his thumb gently over the bruise, feeling for any swelling. “Why’d he do it?” 

Eddie shrugs. “Thinks I’m trying to steal his girlfriend or something. Not my fault he’s too much of an asshole to listen to Chrissy. Also his fault for not realizing I’m ga-” Eddie cuts himself off and looks at Steve with pure panic in his eyes. “Just, forget I said that. Please. Don’t tell Dustin or any of the kids. Steve, please.” 

Steve realizes that he’s also frozen in place at the admission. It feels somehow different from Robin’s confession. It’s like he’s filled with… excitement? As if this opens an opportunity for something more. Steve takes a deep breath and tries to sort out his feelings. Gosh, it’s all so confusing. 

“Steve?” Eddie prompts gently. 

Steve realizes his hand is still on Eddie’s face, and he’s been staring at him during his whole internal panic. “Shit,” Steve says and pulls his hand back. “Yeah, of course. I won’t tell anyone, Eddie. I promise.” 

As Eddie sighs, Steve notices the cut on his lip that’s already begun to scab over. But then he can’t stop staring at his lips, and he feels… like he needs to kiss him. 

Steve looks up at Eddie and finally realizes what he’s been feeling… attraction. He takes a moment to glance over the boy and gets overwhelmed with the realization. 

Eddie’s gaze turns concerned and he gently taps Steve on the forehead and asks, “What’s going on in there?” 

“When did you know you were into guys?” Steve asks without hesitation. 

Eddie gives him a look then glances away. A soft blush appears on his cheeks. “Uh, it was a few years ago in high school. One of my friends in my band had a huge crush on a cheerleader, and he dragged me to a basketball game. And while he was watching the cheerleaders, I realized I was too interested in a certain basketball player…” Eddie trails off as if lost in thought. 

“Do I know them?” Steve asks feeling weirdly jealous. 

Eddie snorts. “Yes, you definitely know them.” 

Steve nods and hesitates. “Is it too much to ask who they are?” 

Eddie’s breath hitches before he answers, “Yes.” 

“It’s not Tommy, is it? Or Billy?” Steve asks before he can help himself. 

Eddie chuckles to himself. “No, I think you would be more disappointed to know the truth.” 

Steve tries to think. Who would be worse than Tommy or Billy? He glances back at Eddie as he thinks. He would put more ice on his face, but it’s turned to water at this point. Steve asks another question. “What about him made you realize?” 

Eddie looks at him in disbelief but thinks for a moment. “I think it was his smile whenever he or one of his teammates scored. Everyone used to say it was the hair, but it was the smile that I couldn’t take my eyes away from.” 

Steve nearly jealously asks who in the world had better hair than he did, but then it suddenly hits him. He looks at Eddie who stares at him with that same panicked look in his eyes. Steve runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Was it…” He trails off unable to finish the question but tries to by vaguely gesturing to himself.  

Eddie’s mouth opens, but he’s cut off by the bell ringing. Instead, he just nods. 

Steve’s heart soars, and in a moment of pure excitement he asks, “Eddie, what if you were that for me?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t mean…” 

“Yes,” Steve insists and grabs at one of his hands and squeezes. 

Eddie’s eyes search Steve then flicker down to his lips. “Then… I would ask if you would kiss this cut better,” Eddie says while pointing to his lip with that usual confident smirk. 

Steve laughs but cups Eddie’s jaw gently. He quickly looks down at his lips, and he begins to lean in.  

The door slams open as Dustin sprints in. “Eddie! Are you okay?!” He yells.  

Steve jumps back, and replies, “He’s good! Just checking on the cut on his lip!” 

Dustin looks at Eddie and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want us to go after that asshole?” 

“Language,” Steve lectures as Eddie replies, “As much as I appreciate your bravery, I don’t need to be responsible for any beat-up children. But you can grab my stuff, so I don’t get detention for skipping.” 

Dustin immediately runs to Eddie’s notebook and lunch box and starts picking them up. Steve stands up and holds his hand out which Eddie immediately latches onto for Steve to pull him up. Eddie leans in as he comes up and whispers, “I’ll see you around, Steve. Thank you for everything.” 

Eddie steps back and grabs his things from Dustin. “Off to Hell,” Eddie announces dramatically as he walks out of the room. 

“Thanks, Steve!” Dustin yells as he follows Eddie out of the room. 

When the door closes, Steve takes a moment to himself and lets out a deep breath. First, he needs to talk to Robin. Next, he needs to figure out whether to punch Jason or thank him. Maybe both. 

[bananaactivity]

I finally finished good old Harry Hook, Now he’s Harry Killian Hook after his dad.

The reason I designed his father first was mostly so I could make them look similar. I suppose I still could have done that with Harry first but shut up I do what I want.

You’ll take notice that Harry looks WILDLY different from his usual self. His nose is slightly hooked and he has curly hair with an eyebrow slit like his father. He also has his dads random ass moles sunken eyes with long lower lashes and a little stubble. He has cuts on his face from training crocodiles. There are some way worse ones when he’s shirtless (he loves it tho, mans is a glutton for pain and suffering even his own💀🙏) I’m gonna withhold what he trained them for at this point in time💀💀💀. I also wanted him to look a little less goofy, he’s a pretty destructive dude and OG Harry is too Camp for me to see his exact likeness doing all I plan for him to do.

He and his dad look very similar which adds another reasoning for people fearing him. His fit is also very different from his usual punk leather, capri pants for some reason??? And absolutely disgusting white hoody shirt thing with fingerless leather hand things.

This is because Carlos refuses to style him any other way 💀. As a part of my au Carlos is now a fashion designer like his mother. His mother used to style Killian before he left for Neverland and in this Au Carlos loves and is obsessed with his mom 💀. So from a young age he’s always told Harry he’d be his stylist in the future when Harry was in power. Harry pays Carlos well and they are actually friends. ( Mal hates how close they are because she believes Harry could use Carlos to take over her turf, and Jay is jealous because Harry is HIS arch enemy or something, he doesn’t know what his problem is)

This Harry is a really rough person to handle, there are a lot of gangs on the isle but there is a separation. The sea gangs and the land gangs rarely get into it and mostly scuffle within each other. Mal and the rest of the core four rule over the most expansive land gang and Harry takes over his father’s old turf and expands it rather quickly. His dad’s gig was illegally giving transport to Auradonians who want a night of fun on the isle, it’s very profitable. He actually mirrors his father a lot, Killian would take down entire ships all alone so that his crew would know that mutiny would lead to so much destruction that there would barely be a crew to lead. Harry follows suit but received so much letal training from so many different people ,as his dad let him come on every trip he took to pick up his “imports”, that he’s much deadlier then his father.

Mal in my au is more like the dark fae/ Demi god that she was implied to be and is therefore heavily reliant on her powers. Harry scares her a little as she can’t understand how someone seemingly so powerless could strike so much fear. Carlos tries to tell her that Harry doesn’t gaf about physical land and his passion is the vast expanse of the sea but she becomes paranoid and shit happens 💀💀💀. Here’s a little scene of that real quick:

Carlos was exasperated. Harry was particularly interested in leathers and tight pants now and it was just awful. The poor dear had no clue it made him look like a disfigured hooligan. Not that Carlos was adverse to furs of course, Harry had given him so many exotic samples over the years… BUT GOD DAMMIT. The way Hook intertwined the two styles made him want to chuck up his lunch. He headed towards his room hoping to settle into a peaceful use of the remainder of the night, testing out some of the fabric and fur samples the Captain had gifted him. Mal made it quite clear it wouldn’t be so easy for him. “We need to talk Carlos.” He knew of only one topic that made her face contort that way. Better to feign ignorance, Mal didn’t like for him to be more clever than her typically . “ What of Darling… and do make it snappy, I’m so dead tired… I’ve been with my dearest client all day. Bless his heart he’s just so very awful with dressing him self the poor dear.” With a huff of her nose she began her rambling. “ About that, “dear client” of yours Carlos, Harry?. You need to stop seeing him.” “ HA!” Carlos couldn’t believe she was back on this tryst of hers with full force so soon, normally she would back off this hard for at least a month or two. “ Surley darling you must mean another dear client! Why Mal I almost believed you meant HARRY HOOK. My closest and most oldest clientele, my dear friend, my most generous patron! No, No darling you just can’t mean Captain Harry Hook, it’d almost sound as tho you meant to take away my most profitable source of revenue and resources~.” Mal was shifting on her feet, sometimes Carlos longed for others to see how vulnerable this king pin was, how nervous and unsure… but then he’d have no where to go and he refused to travel the seas with Harry on the daily day to day. He was much too expensive to upkeep and he wasn’t sure if Harry could stop his crew from murdering him eventually. “ You rely too much on hi-“ “RELY” Carlos scoffed, “ I said Harry was my MOST profitable, NOT my ONLY, anyone would be a fool to drop him as a client.” Mal was glowing with her “anger” now it wasn’t very frightening anymore. “ HES USING YOU TO GET TO ME AND ALL IVE WORKED FOR. Don’t you remember Jake? IZZY?? CHUBBS???? He’s cold and heartless. He’ll take over my turf… and then the whole Isle of the Lost! He’s a danger to our existence and YOU are always consorting with him!! Has he brainwashed you!! What have you told him about us?! HE COULD DESTROY US AT ANY MOMENT!!!” Carlos was exhausted, Mal was falling further into the pit of anxiety that comes with power. Harry avoided that pit rather admirably in Carlos’s eyes. He was so sure of what he wanted as far as power goes and Carlos just PRAYED that Mal would understand that. “ Mal… Harry is a PIRATE he doesn’t care about you beyond you leaving the Shrimp alone and never invading him. Something I disadvise HEAVILY for you to do. He WILL wipe you out if you don’t get ahold of yourself and THINK critically for once!” He breathed out once to calm himself before continuing. “ Mal- Darling, you’ve had me run the analytics of many a situation… I have personal experience with Harry and his behaviors and desires. He is a… very calculating pirate. The Sand Weaver incident occurred at a very strenuous time in Hooks life, he was VERY intentional during that time. All that he wanted ,truly, was planned for over those four years. Harry loves the sea, if he wanted to he would have infiltrated Villanend back then. He didn’t.” He could see the cracks in Mals resolve. It was looking as though he could get to those fabrics after all. “ I don’t like that he has such easy access to a member of my crew- my family…” This development was new to the norm of these conversations with Mal “Darling, I’m all he has left. Ive always wanted to style and now we’re both fulfilling what we wanted as children. Hook is no threat unless you MAKE him one.”-

END ( I’m running outta time lemme know what you think)

[daughterofcain-67]

𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 (pt. 3)

(Beau Arlen x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Beau wraps up at least one end of his case, he finds that there’s more and he may be sinking into some sort of rabbit hole. It’s his job to get Helena Montana out of this mess and safe once more with Hoyt’s help. Meanwhile, you’re getting more friendly with Andre and you start to wonder if you should be setting your sites on someone who has the time for you. What will you do when one of the two men in your life actually asks you out?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of some characters in season 1. Kidnapping case and discussions of human traffiking. Beginning of the love triangle. I think that’s it?

Beau and Jenny found Irene’s grandson, evidently named Sean, driving the green SUV down the road. They followed him and they were able to stop him at one of the many back roads of Helena Montana.

When the car was stopped, Beau and Jenny got out of Beau’s car and of course the two officers were cautious. They had their arms ready just in case.

“Sean? We need you to step out of the vehicle.” Beau said, a little wary of what might happen.

When the car door slowly opened up, a lanky looking red head with curly hair and freckles carefully stepped out of the vehicle with his hands up.

“I-I know why you’re here. And I’m so sorry…” This poor kid couldn’t have been older than nineteen. Fresh out of high school, could be a freshman in college.

“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you down to the station. We just need to talk about a few things.” Jenny said.

Sean nodded and he stood still and put his arms behind his back.

“Oh, there’s no need for that. You aren’t under arrest.” The deputy promised and it took everything Beau had in him not to say the words “not yet” afterward.

When they got Sean into the car, they made it to the station about thirty minutes later. They got Sean’s fingerprints before getting him into the interrogation room.

Jenny and Sean sat down across from one another while Beau was a little too antsy to have a seat. He just wanted to get those two women found before anything bad would happen to them.

“You said you knew what this was about, right? So, Sean, why don’t you tell us what happened, tell us your side.” Jenny said. Beau supposed she was trying to play good cop for once since this was practically a kid.

“Well… All of it was just so I could help my grandma pay her hospital bills. She just had both her hips replaced several months ago but for whatever reason her insurance and social security couldn’t cover all of it. The co-pay was a little too much for her to afford. She’s also really far behind on some of her other bills.” Sean began and he looked down at his hands.

“So you’re trying to be a good grandson. What did you do?” Beau asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I-I made a mistake… I met this guy at a bar. He didn’t give me his real name. All I knew him as was Ace. And Ace told me that I could help pay for my grandmother’s bills if I just… did some driving for him.” Sean said.

“Driving? To where? What were you transporting?” Beau’s brows narrowed.

“H-He is a part of some gang. I don’t know what gang or what they wanted, but I was supposed to take whatever ladies he had blindfolded and take them to this site. It was different every time. I-It was like they were selling people for whatever reasons.” Sean continued.

“The Syndicate? Was that who it was?” Jenny asked, remembering the case with the truck driver, Ronald Perlman, and the state trooper, Rick Legarski.

“No, I think it was someone else. Maybe someone who buys from the Syndicate or something. Maybe it’s something similar to whatever Syndicate you’re talking about? I-I don’t know for sure. I’m sorry…”

“How long does it take for the buyer to get to the site?” Beau questioned, voice growing more stern.

“It depends on how fast we can get them to answer, or rather when Ace can get them on the phone. He got them on the phone three days ago. The buyer is supposed to come by sometime early next week. I think in about two days if their on schedule.” Sean said.

“Do you remember where the site is? Can you take us there?”

Sean was a little hesitant. He seemed unsure about something and he was shaking his leg under the table. Things weren’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be simple. An easy payday so he could take care of his grandmother.

“I-If I show you, is there any way I can get protection from these guys? Or protection for my grandmother at least?” He asked.

Jenny looked up at Beau who’s brow was raised in the air, arms still firmly in place over his chest as if he hadn’t moved the whole time.

“We can get the FBI involved and let them know the Syndicate or someone similar is hitting up Helena again.” Beau said, “We’ll see what we can do about your grandmother at least. I don’t know what deal they’ll offer you since you were an accomplice.”

“I’ll take it! As long as she’s okay.”

“Great. Hoyt, grab some reinforcements and call some backup in case there’s any conflict. Time to hit the road.” Beau instructed and walked out of the interrogation room.

Beau had grabbed a bullet proof vest and proceeded to put it on before stepping outside to get into his vehicle. When he did, Beau realized that it was already dark outside by this time. If this case were simpler, he would be at your house watching that movie with you. there was nothing else he would rather be doing right now. He would have loved to be under some random throw blanket he had with you beside him.

But this was his job and this was his priority whether he liked it or not.

It was time to get Sidney Ferguson and Ember O’Riley back to their families. They’ve been under enough stress for this past week and it’s time to put an end to this. At least an end for their means.

Yet for some reason, Beau had this unsettling feeling that whatever group this was, they weren’t done with Helena just yet.

You were sitting on the couch with your sister and Andre. Sure enough, Cassie wasn’t able to make it and of course Beau had told you from that phone call that he and Jenny couldn’t make it tonight. So it was just the three of you watching The Shining and you had forgotten just how good of an actor Nicholson was in this role.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie, Cadence got up from her seat next to you on the couch.

“I’m grabbing a drink. Can I get either of you anything?”

“Sure, I’d like one if you don’t mind.” Andre said.

“I’m good.” You replied, then you watched your sister leave to go to the kitchen.

You looked at the tv again, but you weren’t exactly sure why your mind was suddenly drawing a blank. You knew you would be sitting here enjoying the movie with your sister and your guest, but you couldn’t help but think about the sheriff.

What kind of complications were there? Had he finally gotten a break in the case? Was he going to be able to find those girls? Would he come out of this okay?

“You’re thinking of your sheriff friend, huh?” Andre’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked at him for a moment and you have a half of a smile.

“That obvious? I’m sorry, you must think I’m really rude.” You apologized and looked down at your hands in embarrassment.

“No, that’s alright. I’m just curious… is he more than a friend to you?” He asked and you could feel his gaze on you.

You shook your head, “I don’t think he’ll ever be more than a friend. My sister is kind of an advocate for something to happen between me and him, but she has to face the reality that his work is his priority. I can’t stand in the way of that. What he does is important, and all I can really do is hope that he is at least safe with whatever case he’s on.”

“So… not more than a friend but you wish that wasn’t the case, hmm?” Andre asked and you looked over at him and grinned.

“You’re awfully nosey with me and him aren’t you? You and Cadence could bond over that.” You rolled your eyes, “But no, I don’t want him to be anything more than a friend. A person like him would make a much better friend than anything beyond that.”

You may have been lying through your teeth, but if you said the lie out loud maybe you could actually believe it one day. Beau would make a much better friend for you. You couldn’t get attached to him of all people, at least not romantically attached.

“I see.” Andre began but you watched him tuck his bottom lip between his teeth as his gaze went down to the space between the two of you. You could see the gears turning in his mind before he finally spoke again.

“So, hypothetically, if I were to ask you out on a date.. would you refuse?”

The question stunned you. Honestly you were speechless. You weren’t even sure if you were ready to hop back into dating but that was when your sister came into the room again.

“Of course she wouldn’t refuse! She hasn’t dated in forever and she really needs to get out more.” Cadence piped up and answered for you. You looked up at her wide eyed, wondering why the hell she was answering a question you weren’t even sure about.

“Really? How long has it been?” Andre asked and you looked back at him before you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Let’s just go with a little too long… so when do you want to go out on this date? And what do you have in mind?” You asked.

He smiled at you, apparently glad that you were willing to go along with this even if your sister practically volunteered you into this, “Why don’t we leave that as a mystery for let’s say… tomorrow morning? I’ll pick you up at nine.”

That soon? You didn’t know Andre was quite that ambitious but why not go for it? It’s not like anyone else was lining up to date you really. And it was just one time right? How bad could it be?

“Sure, nine sounds great.” You agreed as Cadence handed Andre his drink.

Then you could hear an unfamiliar ringtone and you saw Andre fish his phone from his pocket.

“Is everything alright?” You asked and you could hear him sigh seemingly out of aggravation, if that was the right word for it.

“Just when we were having a good time, I get a message from an associate. He says we need to have a meeting and it’s pretty urgent.” He said.

You smiled a little. Honestly you weren’t sure if you could complain. You weren’t sure what the jewelry business was like so you didn’t know if Andre would be as busy as Beau. Then again if he was and the two of you continued after tomorrows date goes well, you could understand that he was still starting to get established here in Montana. That would take some time.

Then again, that was all in the hypothetical and if everything would work out after tomorrow’s date.

“It’s getting pretty late anyways. We can always watch this another time or something. Go ahead for your meeting.” You said.

Andre smiled at you before he leaned in. You felt the warmth of his lips on your cheek, which sort of startled you because it was an unexpected gesture. When he pulled away, he grinned, “Thank you for understanding. I’ll be here by tomorrow morning.”

Then you watched him get up, causing you to stand as well so you could walk him out to the door. When the door was opened, you looked up at him, “Be safe on the way home, or to your meeting, or wherever the meeting is taking place whether its at home or not.”

“You’re rather adorable when you begin to ramble, aren’t you?” He chuckled, “But I’ll let you know when I get home. So don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

With that, you watched him leave and step into his truck before driving into the night.

You smiled to yourself. You weren’t quite sure where things would go between the two of you, but you hoped that maybe this could help you move on from the sheriff since that didn’t really seem to be going anywhere.

Somehow, though, it felt almost like you were cheating on Beau in a way. You didn’t think Beau knew you had feelings for him, but you wondered if this was right.

All you could do for the time being was wait and see what would happen next.

Beau, Jenny, and the other officers that were called to the site where Sean dropped the women off were successful on their mission.

Both Ember and Sidney were safe and sound, finally, and Jenny was talking with Sidney to see if there was any information on this Ace fellow that she could gather.

Ember was sitting on another ambulance with a blanket around her while a paramedic was checking on her. Both the girls would end up being taken to a hospital to check on their well being. As well as Ember’s baby. Beau knew that James would be elated to have his bride back. As for Sidney, you knew Lidia and their parents would be eager to see their family member again.

He was just glad that he was able to get these two women back safely. He just hoped that these girls could give them some kind of information.

Beau watched as the paramedics took the two girls away and Jenny walked towards him with her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

“What’d you find out?” Beau asked.

“Well, not a whole lot. Sean was wrong about this Ace fella buying from the Syndicate. I think it’s an entirely different operation. It’s still related to trafficking, but it’s a different organization. They were planning on letting Ember go anyway because apparently expecting mothers aren’t in the criteria. But they didn’t let her go because they figured she’d tell authorities.” Hoyt explained.

“I think we’re gonna have to figure out how to get in contact with Ace. Or at least locate him and we can figure out how to get them out of here before someone else gets taken.”

“That’s a great idea and all, but we’re gonna have to wait on some DNA results. We collected some cigarette buds and we think that any saliva collected could help us figure out if Ace is in the data base anywhere.”

“Well what are we supposed to do until then? Just sit around on our hands and hope for the best?”

Jenny sighed before she reached up and adjusted the jacket Beau was wearing, “We celebrate this victory. Ember and Sidney are safe and they’re going back to their families. And who knows, maybe this whole thing might be over when this Ace fella finds out that their operation was compromised and they may not come back to Helena.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“So, a way you can celebrate, Arlen, is you can get your ass down to Y/N’s house and apologize to her about missing out tonight. Find a way to make it up to her. Because you know damned well that ladies like her don’t stay single forever.”

Beau thought about it for a moment and he thought about how you sounded disappointed in that phone call when he said he wouldn’t be able to make it that night. He knew you were the understanding sort, so would you actually hold it against him?

“Yeah.. I suppose I could go over. She’ll want to know that Ember and Sidney are safe now.” He nodded.

So that was exactly what he did.

When Beau made it to your house, he saw that the porch light was still on. He half expected it to be turned off considering it was getting close to midnight. We’re you alright?

He stepped out of his car and looked down when he realized the bulletproof vest was still on. He took it off and tossed it into the car and shut the door. When he made it to your porch, he lifted a hand and gently knocked on the door, hoping that you would answer.

After a few moments of waiting, the door finally opened up. He saw you there with a messy bun, an AC/DC shirt and some sleeping shorts. You looked like you were ready for bed even if you looked wide awake.

“Beau? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s alright… I just wanted to check on ya.”

“Check on me? What for?” He heard the slightest chuckle in your voice and he smiled a little before he shook his head.

“Never mind, Darlin… I did want to say that we did finally get those two girls back. They should be on their way home either tonight or tomorrow morning once their released from the hospital. They had one of those routine checkups done as far as I know.” He admitted and he saw a smile appear on your face.

“That’s good. I’m glad things were able to work out. But you know you could have told me that on the phone. So why are you really here?”

Beau couldn’t help but wonder why he felt so hesitant now. Why was he there? What was he doing on your porch close to midnight? All of this could have been done over the phone, but he just wanted to see you, he supposed.

“I um… I wanted to apologize for missin’ movie night.”

“You know I’ll never hold the job against you, Beau. You did well tonight and I’m glad you guys were able to make sure those girls got back to their families before something bad happened.” You promised.

“Right.. but uh… I was wondering if there was some way I could make it up to you?” He asked and he watched you tilt your head to the side a little.

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have the day off tomorrow. Maybe we can do something?” That was when he saw the expression in your face change.

“Um… tomorrow won’t exactly work for me. I’m supposed to be going on a uh.. friend date tomorrow.”

“A friend date?”

“Yeah, it’s with Andre. I’m just going to be showing him some of the fun spots in town. Nothing too fancy really.”

Beau felt this twinge of jealousy within him and he hated it. He didn’t like that you were going on a date with a guy you just met a couple of days ago. We’re you insane?! What if he was dangerous? What if he was just going to use you somehow?

All of these scenarios were playing in his mind and he wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

“Oh.. I see…”

“But if you still want to make things up to me…” He heard you trailing off for a moment, “This weekend, you and I should have a movie night at your place. Just the two of us. I’ll bring some marshmallows to roast and we can make s’mores.”

This was your request? You two have had plenty of movie nights together since Jenny or Cassie couldn’t make it once in a while if they were caught up with their own lives. But he couldn’t exactly recall the last time you said it should just be the two of you.

“I think that ought to be doable.” Beau smiled down at you.

“Good. So… I’ll see you at the coffee shop until then?” The hopefulness in your voice made that aching feeling in Beau’s stomach subside a little. He still didn’t trust Andre one bit. But at least he had something to look forward to he supposed. You did say it was just a friend date, whatever that means.

“I’ll be there.” He promised, “Now try and get some sleep. You shouldn’t be wide awake this late at night.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes a little before you stood taller on your tipped toes. Suddenly he felt your soft lips on his scruffy cheek, taking him by surprise.

“You need your sleep too, Sheriff. You’ve had a long night and you deserve the rest.” He heard you say and he gazed down at you.

“I’ll do my best, Sweetheart… Goodnight.” He said with a softer tone.

“Goodnight, Beau.” You replied and he watched you slowly shut the door.

Beau sighed and he ran a hand through his hair before he turned around and went to his car.

While he was walking, though, he got a phone call, causing him to let out a grumble to himself. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered while he got into the vehicle. “Arlen. What’s happening?”

“We need you to get to Irene’s house. I was wrong. I don’t think this is over, Beau.”

Hey guys! Thank you for reading! I hope you guys are enjoying this series so far! There’s more to this case than meets the eye and one has to wonder just who this Ace is. We’ll see where this goes!

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @fanfic-n-tabulous

[poppitron360]

I have a big big deadline coming up at work, and it’s been really stressing me out. However, instead of focusing on that (which is what I should be doing), my stupid, dopamine-chasing brain has been thinking about nothing but this singular piece of Valgrace fanfiction I’ve been working on for the past two weeks.

A lot of you requested to be tagged in it once it was finished so you could read it, based on this post that I made about it. So anyway:

@moonssong @lavenderfairiez @huntingrays @hazellevessque @onion-dishwasher @the-aro-ace-of-spades

Here you are. Go nuts.

Concept: Leo goes back to Texas after the War to get some closure on that miserable chapter of his life. Jason decides to tag along, but little does he know that this trip’s real purpose is to do more than just tie up loose ends…

CWs: Swearing, blood, lack of smut (they are teenagers)

I tried to write it so that it could be interpreted as a friendship thing if that’s what you want (although there is a lot of Staring Deeply Into Leo’s Sad Brown Eyes, and Holding Him Tightly In Jason’s Big Strong Arms). But no actual kissing or anything. I think “wanting to be there for someone” is a universal thing, so I tried to make it up to interpretation.

This is also FUCKING LONG (as this has been my main form of procrastination for the past two weeks), so you have been warned. Final Word Count: 5,934!

Valgrace Fanfiction: “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Not sure on the name tbh. Lmk if you have any better ideas.

Leo took the window seat and Jason sat next to him. Jason watched as Leo leaned his head against the window of the bus and closed his eyes, breathing softly, his curly hair vibrating against the glass. There was no cheeky grin on his face. No playful twinkle in his eye.

“You look tired,” Jason mused.

Leo nodded, not opening his eyes, and breathed out almost inaudibly through his parted lips, the vapour from his breath making a circle of mist on the window. He looked utterly dejected. Jason examined his best friend’s features, taking in his sunken cheekbones, his pointed nose, his dirt-covered face. Only now did he realise how thin Leo was- his clothes hung loosely around his body, cinched in by his tool-belt and suspenders, but even those seemed disproportionately loose on his tiny frame. His arms and hands were bony, and covered in scars. Jason’s body was pushed up against Leo’s on the cramped bus seat, and he could feel the bones of Leo’s emaciated ribcage pressing against his side. He thought he truly saw for the first time that kid who had run away so many times, who grew up on the streets. He wondered how Leo had survived all those years alone- demigods weren’t supposed to make it on their own past thirteen, but Leo had been completely by himself for seven years. Jason couldn’t think what that might’ve done to him. What he’d been through. Leo never talked about the foster homes much, but Jason got the sense they had been rough- he had mentioned once about sleeping in a sewer. Jason studied the scars on Leo’s arm. He had scars too, they all did. But Leo’s seemed to tell a different story, more bleak and depressing, like he hadn’t always been able to fight back. There was nothing funny about that, Jason decided.

He reached out, and brushed a strand of curly hair away from Leo’s face. He didn’t flinch at the touch, and Jason wondered if he might be asleep, but soon he felt Leo’s hands slip into his, his bony fingers were gentle and warm to the touch- as if to say “I’m here. I’m okay.” His skin was rough and calloused, but Jason didn’t mind their lack of softness. He cupped Leo’s tiny hand in both of his own, as if to respond “I’m here too. It’s okay.” Leo’s fingers were completely covered by Jason’s big palms, and they wriggled against his skin, tapping out a strange arhymic pattern. Jason figured it was morse code, but he couldn’t translate it. He recognised the pattern as the same one Leo was always tapping out with those restless fingers.

“I can feel everything,” Leo whispered, weakly. His eyes were still closed. His voice was low and hollow and raspy, like it had lost all of its brightness. Something about the way he spoke had changed too- his vowels dragged out longer, his consonants became softer, more rounded. Jason could hear the warm tones of a hispanic accent seeping through, like Leo was too tired to hide it anymore.

“What?”

“The bus. I can feel all the machinery beneath us- the axels and pistons and gears and motors- it’s clouding my brain. No way I can sleep,” He explained.

Jason listened to the low hum of the bus engine as it bounced along the winding road. He imagined it must be a hundred times louder for Leo, who could sense every single moving part. He squeezed his hand sympathetically. No wonder Leo had trouble focusing all the time.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jason asked.

Leo shook his head, his head still resting against the glass.

“Just promise me we’ll find a place to stop and rest soon,” He said.

Jason rubbed a thumb over the back of Leo’s warm hand. “Okay,” He assured him.

Leo nodded, softly.

They sat in silence, Jason watching Leo breathing. His brow would furrow with soft despair when the bus sped up, like the movement caused him pain. His breathing was shallow and weak, and Jason could feel his lungs expanding and retracting underneath his skin. Eventually, Jason rested his head on Leo’s bony shoulder and closed his eyes. His shoulder-blade was digging into his cheek uncomfortably, and the dirt and grime on Leo’s face was rubbing into his hair, but he didn’t mind. He breathed in Leo’s warm smell. He smelled like smoke. Woodsmoke, like a campfire. He smelled like the metallic aroma of rust and motor oil. It wasn’t usually a pleasant smell, but it smelled good on Leo. Just like the hardness of his rough skin felt good brushing gently against Jason’s palms. Everything about Leo was coarse and rough and dirtied, reflecting the gritty hardness of the forges and workshops he’d grown up with and surrounded himself with. Despite being so small and weak, Leo was by no means soft or delicate. Jason thought again about that little boy, skin and bones, growing up orphaned and alone. While Camp Jupiter had never really been caring or familial, it had still been there for Jason when he needed it. He’d always had safety, food, friends, a place to stay. Leo had had none of that. Suddenly, Jason felt a surge of protectiveness. He wasn’t gonna let Leo go through that anymore. He was gonna make sure Leo was safe, that he had food, friends, a place to stay. Yeah, you’re doing great at that so far, Jason thought, but he pushed the feeling down.

He leaned in closer to Leo and whispered in his ear.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Jason…” Leo whispered in return, “You know you didn’t have to come with me.”

“We’ve had this conversation, Leo. You shouldn’t have to be here alone.”

Leo tilted his head so that it rested against Jason’s instead of the window. He was silent for a long time.

“I… I’m glad you’re here, Jason.”

He really did sound tired.

Jason absent-mindedly traced the lines of Leo’s palm with his fingers. He heard the tires hiss and he sat up. They had arrived.

Huston bus station was about as grimy as Leo’s workshop, but with none of the charm or magic of it. It had low plasticky ceilings stained nicotine yellow, the grout in the cracks of the tile floor were peeling and cracking. Jason did his best to avoid a mysterious stain that looked suspiciously like blood, as Leo led him through the jostling crowd, pulling him by the arm. Once they were out onto the street, Jason nudged Leo’s shoulder to tell him to stop.

“Let’s find a hotel. I promised you we’d get you a place to sleep. We’ll talk game plan in the morning.”

It was hard to tell with the hot Texas sun beating down on them, but it was getting late.

“Yeah… I guess taking a sightseeing tour of the locations of the most traumatic moments of my life can wait until morning.”

The next morning came, heralded by the autumn sun.

“Can I just get these, please?” Leo handed the gum and the 6-pack of water to the man behind the kiosk. The tiny newsagent’s shop was empty except for them and a guy in the corner, looking at the chips.

“Hey, don’t I know you?” The shopkeeper asked.

Leo looked around nervously, “No, I don’t think so, partner. You might be thinking of that guy in the movies- Antonio Banderas. I’m told we look a lot alike.”

“No…” the guy said, squinting at Leo, “Wait- you’re that Valdez boy!”

A look panic flashed across Leo’s face, but he tried to keep his cool.

“Nah, man, you’ve got the wrong guy-“

“No- it is you. Boy, you’ve got guts showing your face here again. The police came ‘round asking questions ‘bout you, y’know? From what I heard, you burned down your mom’s machine shop and ran away. I’ve got half a mind to call the cops on you right now-”

He reached for the phone.

“No! Look- I don’t want any trouble, okay? Can we just buy these and go?” Leo’s eyes were pleading and desperate.

“You’ve got three seconds to leave my shop before I call the cops.”

“But-“

“GET OUTTA HERE, FREAK!!”

Leo ran. Jason ran after him, but not before turning and flashing his best raised-by-wolves death-glare at the shopkeeper.

“Hey-“ Jason said, finally catching up with him three streets away. Leo was a fast runner. “You okay? What that guy said-“

“It’s fine!” Leo said, his voice high-pitched and a little hysterical, “No big deal, just… no gum. That’s fine.”

Jason put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. He made his voice low and gentle, “Leo… this must be really hard for you. Talk to me.”

Leo shook his head, “We have to keep moving. Aunt Rosa’s house is this way.”

Leo led Jason through the busy Huston streets, twisting down roads and sidewalks. Suddenly, he turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks so fast, Jason nearly ran into him. He was staring at a large brick building on the corner of the street. The sign above it read “Bookstore”.

“They… they rebuilt it…” Leo said.

Jason realised what he was talking about.

“This was your mom’s machine shop?”

“I c-can’t believe they rebuilt it…”

“Leo… it did burn down nine years ago,” Jason told him. Then, realising that that was probably not the best thing to say, he added, “I know this is hard. Do you need a minute?” After all, Leo had grown up here. Seeing his childhood home not only burned to the ground but rebuilt, totally erasing those moments, must’ve been torture.

Jason squeezed Leo’s arm comfortingly. Leo nodded, “Yeah… thanks,” he whispered.

Jason kept a respectful distance as Leo walked up to the building. He watched as Leo pressed his forehead against the bricks, his calloused hands gently caressing the stone, as if trying to remember the way it used to feel. He saw his fingers tapping out that message he always tapped. He saw Leo’s mouth moving, whispering silently to the building. After a while, he began to approach Leo, but then hesitated when he saw the tears in his eyes. But now, he was close enough to hear him. Leo was humming, softly. A sweet, lilting melody. He hadn’t noticed Jason was standing there. Jason watched as Leo drew a shaky breath, and began to sing.

Jason didn’t understand the words- they were in Spanish- but he could hear the roundness of the syllables, the way the vowels and consonants danced up and down, in and out. He couldn’t believe how right it felt, hearing Leo speak the language. Leo had a weird way of talking- the sentences would stop and start in jagged spikes, gliding rapidly right over full stops, and pausing right in the middle, like his brain was moving a thousand times faster than his mouth. His words felt odd and out of place. But now… Jason realised this was the first time he’d heard Leo speak Spanish at length- more than just a few phrases, under-the-breath insults, and frustrated cursing. He felt bad, eavesdropping on him when he clearly was never comfortable enough to speak the language around Jason, but man… it was beautiful. The sound of his voice was enthralling- tendrils of words wrapping around his chest and arms, softly caressing his skin. Jason felt warm inside, like he had just drunk a cup of hot chocolate on a freezing winter’s day. He wondered if Leo’s song had some sort of fire magic in it, filling him with comfort and homeliness, and a memory came back to him. Him and Thalia sitting at the hearth on Christmas day, watching the flames dance as they toasted marshmallows. The feeling didn’t flicker and die when Leo finished his song, either. Jason stood there, stunned as the last few notes hung in the air.

“Woah, Leo…”

Leo tuned, startled, snapping out of his trance. Something flashed in his eyes- Panic? Fear? Jason felt guilty. Leo was having a private moment, and he was intruding.

“H-how long have you been standing there?“ He asked.

“Just a few minutes. Leo, that was beautiful. Where did you learn-“

“A lullaby. My mom used to…” he trailed off, and looked at the building. Then, wiping his tear-stained eyes with the back of his sleeve, he said, “Look, can we go now?”

They stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the door of Leo’s Aunt’s apartment. Jason rubbed Leo’s back, reassuringly.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asked.

“You keep asking me that!” Leo complained, but his eyes shifted nervously and his fingers restlessly picked at the skin around his thumb. Jason grabbed his hand and squeezed it- “I’m here.”

Leo’s big brown eyes looked into Jason’s. He looked grateful for his company. Then, he let his hand drop as he walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

An old woman answered. She had Leo’s curly hair and dark skin, but unlike Leo, she was ugly. In a sort of cinderella-ugly-step-sister way. Her nose was hooked and pointed. Her mouth snarled and her eyes squinted into wrinkled crows-feet.

“Uhh… hey, Aunt Rosa,” Leo said, wringing his hands, nervously.

“Well, look who decided to come back,” the old witch sneered, “you’ve got guts, boy.”

She spat out the word “boy” like Leo was some sort of vermin. Jason felt anger bubbling up inside of him.

“Look, I just wanna talk. Maybe apologise? I’ve done a lot of thinking-“

Leo was cut short when the old crone started howling with laughter.

“What makes you think I’d give any attention to you, after what you did, Diablo?”

Leo took a step back, fear and hurt flashing in his busy eyes.

“It- it was an accident-“

Jason had been keeping his distance up until now, but he moved closer to Leo and put a hand on his back, staring at the woman defensively.

“Look, lady, Leo and I… we came all this way so that he could do what he needed to do to make things right. Do you know how much guts it takes to want to apologise and make amends, especially after how you treated him? Leo’s doing something brave here, and you should at least hear him out, you owe your sister that much.”

The old lady scoffed, and barked something to Leo accusatorially in Spanish. Leo backed away again, fearfully, mumbling a response. Jason only became angrier. He hated seeing Leo like this.

“Leo doesn’t owe you any sort apology whatsoever,” Jason growled, “And yet he’s still offering one. Even though it wasn’t his fault. Even though you treated him like shit!”

“Hey, Jason, maybe we should go-“

Jason looked in Leo’s eyes and mouthed, “Do you want to leave?”

Leo nodded, “Jason, please…” he whispered.

Jason hated seeing Leo so afraid and helpless. With one last glowering look at Leo’s Aunt Rosa, he guided Leo away.

“Freak! Diablo!” Rosa called, “Worthless, Satan Spawn, good-for-nothing-“

She didn’t have time to finish the insult. With one swift motion, Jason spun around and punched her square in her ugly face. She crumpled to the floor, moaning.

“Leo Valdez is fucking amazing,” Jason said, standing over the old woman, “You are fucking blessed to even be associated with him. You have no right to treat him the way you did. You know that it wasn’t his fault what happened, but you made him think that it was. You’re a fucking disgrace. Now, I wholeheartedly think that Leo should not apologise to you. But if that’s what he needs to do,” he looked over at Leo, and smiled, then looked back at the old crone, “then you’re gonna fucking hear him out, okay?”

She nodded, still rolling on the floor. Leo walked over and stood by Jason. He didn’t help her up.

“Aunt Rosa,” he said, and then paused for a moment, looking at Jason, and then looking back down, “Fuck you.”

Jason patted him on the back, and they walked away together. As they got further and further down the street, Leo stated sobbing.

“Oh, hey, no, it’s okay…” Jason assured him, “Sorry, did I-“

“You were great,” Leo said, “It’s just…”

He hugged his shoulders. Jason walked in front of him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

“Hey. Look at me. Don’t let what she said get to you, okay? She’s not worth it.”

Leo chucked, but the laugh turned into more sobs.

“Hey… hey… that was really brave, what you did.”

Leo dug his fingernails into his arm. He was hugging his right forearm close to his chest, hiding his scars from Jason that he knew for a fact were there. Jason wondered once again where they had come from. What their story was. But he didn’t dare ask. He pulled Leo into a hug, right there in the middle of that busy Texas street. Fragile, and shaking, Leo was a mess. But Jason held him, and stroked his hair, and whispered soft words of comfort.

“I don’t know what she has against Spawns of Satan,” Leo said eventually, “Nico and Hazel are lovely. It’s not really an insult.”

And there it was. The jokes. Leo took a deep breath, and Jason could practically see the mask come up. It had slipped away for those few moments while Jason held him, and he had caught a glimpse of that vulnerable, scared little eight-year-old boy. But now his defences were up. He had let Jason in for just a second, and Jason wanted so desperately to be let in again. To get to know the real Leo. To be able to comfort that little boy, maybe even help heal him. Bandage his bleeding scars.

“Next stop,” Leo said, “Mom.”

The cemetery was beautiful. Peach trees lined the gravel pathway, rustling in the late autumn breeze. Jason watched Leo closely as he walked down the path, scanning for the gravestone he wanted. Leo’s dark brown eyes caught the low light of the evening street-lamps. They reminded Jason those bugs stuck in amber you could buy in museum gift shops. He felt in danger of becoming like one of them, perpetually lost in that deep liquid gold. He could swim in them for eternity, preserved in beautiful stillness for all time. If those dark irises dared lock themselves on his, they would pull him under, and he would be trapped forever in perfect torture.

Leo turned a corner and trekked down a well-trodden path in the grass. He wove through the headstones until he found the one he needed.

Jason stood behind him, tapping his own fingers nervously on the back of his other hand. He realised he was copying Leo’s rhythm- he’d committed it to memory without even learning what it meant.

He watched as Leo knelt down by the headstone. The engraving on the headstone read “Esperanza Valdez, beloved daughter, wonderful sister. You will be missed.”

Jason noticed with another surge of anger that the epitaph did not say “mother”. Leo had been cast out by his family, and the hard work and sacrifices his mom had made to raise him weren’t even recognised on her gravestone.

“H-hey, mom…” Leo said, trying to keep a cheery note in his voice, “How’s it going? Good? Good.”

He kept talking to the stone, commenting on small things like the weather, how his day had been, what he had for breakfast (he’d lied and said oatmeal, but Jason knew he hadn’t eaten anything that morning). Jason could see he was desperately trying to keep it together, not wanting to let his walls down again. Eventually, Leo turned to him.

“Hey man, there’s something I gotta do. Alone. Can you just maybe… I dunno… wander ‘round the shops for a bit? I’ll come find you once I’m done.”

His eyes were dull and unsaturated in the cold light of the evening. He looked at the headstone with something other than just grief- purpose. But not the twinkle Jason saw when he had an idea for an invention. A sort of quiet resolve. It was unsettling.

Jason didn’t want to leave Leo on his own. He moved closer, reached up, and touched Leo’s face. He took off Leo’s mask, and looked at the broken boy behind it.

“I… I…”

Suddenly, Leo crumpled to the ground, sobbing. Jason caught him. He held Leo’s trembling arms in his firm grip. The underside of his arms were covered in a patchwork of faded scars. Jason caught another glimpse of that boy- the runaway, helpless and alone. He imagined those scars freshly bleeding, no-one there to clean the cut or dry his tears. It was that boy that stood in front of him. That boy that crumpled to the floor sobbing at Jason’s feet, as he held his arms tightly in his strong grip.

“I’m sorry…” The boy said, his voice small.

Jason crouched down, letting go of one of the arms and putting a hand under his chin, forcing him to look up. His big brown eyes were watery with tears, filled with sorrow and remorse and fear.

“The… the reason you came here,” Jason said, slowly, “Was not to visit your Aunt Rosa, was it?”

Leo didn’t meet his gaze. Jason’s hand dropped from holding his chin, and Leo looked down at his hands, one still clutched in Jason’s own.

“A ritual…” Leo said, “I found it in a book at Camp… I… I could fix my mistakes.”

“By bringing your mom back?” Jason guessed.

Leo shook his head, “My mom’s gone. Nothing’s gonna bring her back… but I’d be able to get rid of the thing that killed her.”

Jason grabbed Leo’s shaking shoulders, his grip firm, yet gentle. He touched Leo’s cheek with his other hand, his fingers lightly grazing his skin, hurriedly trying to commit it to memory.

“Leo, you mean you’re gonna-“

Leo shook his head. “Not that. My powers,” he explained, “If I give them up, I might be able to reconcile for what I did. I could be at peace.”

He looked up at Jason, his eyes so full of anguish and hurt it made Jason’s heart break.

“I never lied to you, Jason. I did come here to get closure.”

Jason held Leo’s tiny, shaking body against his.

“Leo, it wasn���t your fault, okay? You have to believe me when I tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

“I lost everything in that fire, Jason. These powers have cost me so much.”

“Leo, please believe me,” Jason begged, “You don’t deserve to hurt yourself like this.”

Leo didn’t respond. Jason realised that he was afraid. Afraid of himself. Afraid of hurting others. Afraid of his power, despite all the good it had done, despite all the times it had saved Jason’s life. Leo only ever saw all the bad it did. Why couldn’t Leo would see himself the way Jason saw him- brave and good and kind? Then he remembered Aunt Rosa- the way Leo had backed away from her, afraid and guilty. The way she had reduced Leo to a small-voiced child with just a fierce glance. Jason couldn’t even imagine what it must’ve been like having her as your only family. He figured the foster homes hadn’t been much kinder to Leo, judging by the assortment of scars across his skin. And the shopkeeper- how Leo’s eyes were desperate and panicked, how he had ran from that place, how the man had yelled at him so fiercely. If Leo’s powers were responsible for doing all that to him, Jason didn’t blame him for wanting to get rid of them. Jason did want to get rid of them- nothing that hurts Leo like that should ever be allowed to continue existing.

He hugged Leo tighter.

“You know I can’t let you do this, Leo. It’s dangerous. I mean, if it’s never been done before… what kind of side effects might it have? Will it just get rid of your fire or your other abilities as well?”

Leo shook his head, “I’m still a son of Hephaestus. That would never change. But the gift… curse… whatever he gave me- that’ll be gone. It’s served its purpose now, so The Fates will allow it. But I can be a normal demigod.”

Jason was pretty sure the words “normal” and “demigod” had never been used side-by-side before.

“Leo, these powers have saved my life so many times. All of our lives. You can’t just… by letting them go, you’d be erasing all the good that you’ve done. Please, try to see my point of view. I don’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

“It’s my decision, Jason. My whole life, I’ve wished I’d never gotten these powers. I don’t care if I can use them to help people- I don’t want to risk hurting anyone else,” Leo looked down at the gravestone.

Jason remembered the warmth Leo had filled him with when he had sung his mom’s lullaby. The joy and happiness he had felt. That wasn’t bad. That couldn’t have been bad.

“Leo, you can’t do this.”

“You’re not changing my mind, Jason.”

And Jason knew he was right.

“If this is what you need to do, Leo…” he whispered, softly, “Then I’m not gonna stop you. But there are better ways. You don’t have to do this.”

“But I do. You don’t understand, Jason. You never knew your mom. I had something, and then it was taken away as a result of my own mistakes. That’s worse than never having had it in the first place.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Jason snapped, “Leo, I get it. You’re hurting. And I want to be here for you. I really do. This whole trip-“

He stopped and took a deep breath.

“This whole trip, I’ve been trying to make myself a safe space for you to open up to me. For you to let down those walls, let me in, let me see you,” he took Leo’s hands in his, “Because what I want more than anything right now, is to see you, Leo. The real you. Behind the jokes, and the smiles, and the “everything is fines”. I can’t bear to stand by and watch you do something I know you’d regret, but if this is what it takes to gain your trust, then I’d do it. For you.”

He knew this wasn’t right. He knew Leo was making a really bad choice, and Jason saw no future where he didn’t live to regret it. Leo would not be at peace. He would still be weak and afraid, just now he would also be powerless. But he knew he couldn’t stop Leo. And he couldn’t let him do it alone, he just couldn’t. Leo had been alone his whole life, and Jason couldn’t abandon him when Leo needed him most. And Jason wanted to be with him. Be there for him. He wanted to see that little boy again. But it shouldn’t be about what he wanted. Deep down, Jason knew he was being selfish.

With shaking hands, Leo reached into his backpack and brought out a thick leather-bound book. Jason recognised it as the kind of thing they kept on the bookshelf of the Athena cabin. Leo opened the tome, and flicked through until he found the page he needed. His dark eyes scanned the instructions, then he reached into his backpack again and brought out a knife and a vial of glowing red liquid, and set them both on the grass in front of him.

“Leo…” Jason said, looking at the knife.

“It needs my blood for the ritual, Jason,” Leo said.

“So, you’re really going through with this?” Jason asked, not meeting those eyes of amber.

Leo didn’t answer right away, just studied the book, knife, and vial in front of him. He studied his mother’s grave, tracing the name “Esperanza” with his eyes.

“I… I don’t…”

Jason put a hand on Leo’s cheek, forcing him to look his way.

“Leo, it’s okay.”

Leo tried to hold the glass vial steady to drink it, but his hands were shaking too much. Jason gently took it from his grasp, and held it up to Leo’s lips. This is a bad idea, he thought, but it’s for Leo. It’s what he wants. Jason poured the weird red stuff into Leo’s mouth, and Leo did his best to swallow it down. He shivered.

Leo sat back on his knees, facing the gravestone. He took the knife in shaking hands and dragged it across his palm. He whimpered in pain as the blood seeped out of the cut and down his wrists. He collapsed on the ground, his hands out in front of him, digging his fingers into the dirt. Jason watched as, sobbing, Leo read aloud the words from the book. Jason didn’t understand Ancient Greek, but he got the gist. This was some serious magic going on. Leo screwed his eyes up in painful concentration, repeating the chant over and over. His fingers dug deeper into the ground, and his hands caught fire. Jason took a step back as the fire grew. Leo cried out.

But then, the fire sank back to a flicker, then it was gone. Where it had been, tendrils of red, orange, and gold light were coming from Leo’s fingers like tree roots, spreading into the dirt. They wrapped around his mother’s headstone- making it look overgrown with flame-coloured vines. The light glowed brighter and brighter, and as it did, Leo’s breathing got shallower and weaker. Eventually, the light became so blinding white that Jason had to avert his eyes. Then he heard a grunt, and the sound of a body hitting the soft dirt. Jason turned and saw Leo lying on the ground, shivering. He ran over and scooped him up in his arms. Leo’s skin was cold to the touch- colder than Jason had ever felt on Leo before. His cut hand was stained with grass and mud.

“Leo!” Jason called.

He didn’t answer. He was unconscious. Leo inhaled, shakily, and his breath was sharp and painful. Jason could only hold him.

Eventually, Leo opened his eyes.

“J-Jason?” He said, weakly.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked.

“Are… are people this cold usually?”

Jason laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He hugged Leo tighter.

“Did it work?” Jason asked, after a minute.

Leo shakily got to his feet. Jason kept a hand on his waist to steady him. Leo held out his hand, and closed his eyes in concentration. Nothing happened.

“It worked,” he said. He wasn’t smiling. Jason realised that Leo didn’t want to lose the powers either, but was doing it because he thought it was for the best.

Leo fished a cigarette lighter out of his tool belt. He flicked on the flame, and held it underneath his palm. Jason grabbed Leo’s wrist and yanked it away from the fire.

“Careful,” Jason said, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’d prefer to find out if I’m still fireproof or not now, rather than in a life-or-death situation,” Leo reasoned. He moved to put the lighter under his hand again. Jason didn’t stop him, but he wasn’t happy about it. Leo gasped in pain as the flame blistered his skin. He yelped and dropped the lighter. Luckily, the flame went out before it hit the grass. Leo nursed his burned hand.

“Ouch,” he said, “That… that was…”

Jason knew what Leo must’ve been feeling. He had never been burned before. He had gotten a taste for the first time of how his mom must’ve felt in her final moments. That tiny burn on his hand adding to the many, many scars.

Leo was shivering. “Seriously, why is it so cold?” He said. Jason wrapped his arms around him, still getting used to Leo’s newfound lack of radiator-ness. For once, Leo had to depend on Jason for warmth. Only now, did it occur to Jason the gravity of what they’d done. Leo would never summon another fireball to save Jason from certain death. Jason would never roast a marshmallow over his best friend’s head again. He no longer had an excuse to cuddle up next to him on cold winter nights (not that he wanted to cuddle Leo for any reason other than for warmth). Jason would never watch in awe as Leo stoked the forges with his bare hands. Leo was normal now, but was normal necessarily better? Jason had never thought so, but then again, he had always been revered- held aloft on a golden shield, praised as a leader- for the abilities he had inherited.

Jason knew about the bullying at Camp. After Leo had revealed his powers to Cabin 9, the rumours had spread like, well, fire. His siblings had been supportive, but the other cabins not as much. Jason knew Leo hated the looks he’d get at mealtimes, so much that he often hid in Bunker 9 to work on the Argo II. He’d get nasty comments, people calling him a freak and an arsonist, and he’d tried to downplay how much it had affected him, but Jason knew. The worst were the fights. Leo just curled up on the ground and lay there while the other campers pummelled him. Jason had begged him to fight back, he knew Leo could hold his own, but Leo had just looked down sadly, and said, “I can’t fight back. I don’t want to let myself go. I don’t wish the fate of my mother on anyone, even those fuckers.”

No. Normal was better for Leo. Safer.

“Let’s go,” Leo said.

“Back to the hotel?”

“No. Bus station. I’ve got what I came for now. I don’t ever wanna see this place again.”

He turned to the gravestone, and traced his mother’s name with his fingers, ‘Bye, Mom.”

Leo took the window seat on the bus ride back to camp. He did not rest his head on Jason’s. He did not hold his hand. He just sat, looking sadly out the window as the entire state of Texas passed by them.

“Can I ask you something?” Jason said.

“You just did,” Leo replied.

“Why Huston? I mean, I thought you told yourself you’d never go back there.”

“The ritual required a place that was meaningful to the person performing it.”

He didn’t offer any other explanation, and Jason decided not to push it.

“Jason… can you not tell the others what happened here? They’d freak. I just… I can’t deal with having to explain my choices to them. Not right now.”

Jason hesitated for a moment, but then said, “Of course, Leo.”

Leo still wasn’t meeting his gaze.

“It’s funny…” Jason said, “We started this chapter of our lives on a bus. We’re ending it on a bus…”

Leo began to cry.

“Oh… oh no, sorry, Leo, I didn’t-“

Leo hid his face in his hands. Jason tried to touch his shoulder, but Leo shrugged him off. They stayed like that- Jason helpless as Leo sobbed.

Jason had tried to get closer to Leo. He had tried to see through that mask. He had hoped that letting Leo do what he needed to do might make Leo let him in. But Leo still pushed him away. He might always push him away. Leo rubbed his eyes with the heal of his hand, and resumed looking out the window.

And a little part of Jason died inside.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Completely out of context collection of words from @onedivinemisfit's camboy!au. Enjoy!

He’s heavy, dead weight, and even a youth of carrying in crates of liquor from the back of her grandfather’s pickup truck hasn’t prepared her for his noodily flopping. Also. He stinks. Of booze and god knows what else. Which is why she’s dragging this incapacitated lush straight to the bathroom even though her couch is right there.

Thud.

The dead speaks. “Ow, fuck.”

“Sorry,” Shirayuki grimaces, and presses her back against the door frame so she can wedge him through the narrow turn of the century opening, as opposed to knocking his face against the molding. It’s a difficult transaction. For someone so skinny, he weighs a whole lot more than he looks.

Obi lands gracelessly on the closed toilet seat with a grunt and it is only when the bright fluorescent light above the sink stutters to life that she’s able to take stock of him. He’s a hot Saturday night mess.

Long legs squeak inside their shiny pleather pants, the button of his fly unsurprisingly undone and giving her the faintest peak of curly hair before she quickly redirects her appraisal north of the bellybutton. His chest is bare beneath the leather jacket, rose ink mixed with faint bruising that crawls up his neck. His makeup has smeared. Or maybe it’s someone else’s. She would imagine a professional would invest in smear proof. Or not. What does she know?

“Busy night,” she remarks dryly.

“Say that with a tad more judgement,” comes the hazy response. “I want to feel even more like shit.”

Shirayuki manages to hold back her sigh. Barely. “What happened to the live stream?”

“Did it.” There’s only the barest hint of gold between his lashes before he winces, slamming them shut again. The light must be a bitch. Too bad. “It was a little slow and the transaction fees are eating up my bottom line. Landlords don’t care if my clients’ stocks are down.”

She may or may not have heard Zen make mention of market volatility on Tuesday. She didn’t understand it then. Still doesn’t, to be honest. “Don’t you have savings?”

His dry, mocking laughter tells her that was… uninformed. “Savings?” he says, and embarrassed guilt lands like cold lead in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, look at our fierce social justice warrior, ally of sex workers. Thinking the job comes with savings.”

Heat creeps up the back of her neck and she squares her shoulders. “Well. I read--” Her teeth click together and she turns neatly on her heel, fiddling with the water faucet before she can walk into another debate about data versus lived experience. “I thought you’d put something aside for a rainy day.”

“Oh, Miss,” he sighs. “They’re all rainy days.”

That really isn’t helping her sudden bout of indigestion. Thankfully, she’s unlocked the correct combination of half and quarter turns and water sputters and spits before flooding out in a steady stream. “How hot do you want it?”

“Eh?!” His whole face is wincing against the light, but he seems compelled to battle it if only to let her see his horror. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You stink,” she says over his shoulder, giving him a… less than kind one over. “You’ve got to want a bath.”

“Your soap probably smells like rainbows and butterflies,” he complains, and no it doesn’t. Chemical fragrances give her a headache. “How am I supposed to sleep knowing that I smell like… unicorn mating musk?”

Fine. If he’s not going to give her an answer, luke warm it is. “Unicorns aren’t real.”

“Just leave me in here.” His eyes are closed again, hands gesturing vaguely at nothing. “I’ll clean up any vomit before I leave.”

“Why did you even come here anyway?” Shirayuki runs a wrist under the water. Maybe a touch warmer. “Not satisfied with contradicting everything I say during two-hour seminars twice a week?”

“Wanted to give you a sneak peek at what the business looks like outside your glossy books.” He peers at her beneath heavy lashes, the thin bands of gold nearly as vivid as his hoops. “See if you're still so keen to write your glowing reviews of the trade.”

Heat surges up from her chest, burning her throat and she just manages to bite her tongue before she falls habit to her fundamental need to be right. “Look," she grits through her teeth. "I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

He snorts, and the steam is making the room humid, making her skin clammy in precisely the way that sets her teeth on edge. She opens the window by the sink and cold winter air pours in. She’ll be useless if she loses her temper here. Diplomacy is what is needed.

“You are in my house." She's careful to enunciate every word, measuring them out syllable by syllable. "Therefore, you are my guest and I am here to take care of you.”

He’s staring at her, frowning in a way that’s hard to look directly at. But he's quiet (for once) so she presses on. “Because you are under my care, you are going to take a bath.” This was a non-negotiable. “Then you are going to drink some water and maybe eat something before brushing your teeth and going to sleep. I’ll go digging to see if I can find something clean for you to wear."

"Who even talks like this?" he mutters, almost to himself. She ignores him. "Are you from a video game or somethi--"

"Also!" She reaches under the counter, pulling out a fresh towel. "Also. I have a cat that may or may not decide to sleep on your face. There’s nothing I can do about that last part.”

“Wait.” He’s looking towards the dark living room with interest. “You have a cat?”

“Yes. Her name is Shadow and she’s cooler than you,” she informs him, placing a toothbrush, still in its packaging, atop the towel next to him. “Now are you sober enough to handle taking a bath or do you need my help?”

“I—” He looks around the bathroom like he’s not entirely sure how he got here. “Can I take a piss first?”

[lady0ctavia]

As We Ponder Belief

(2p!Prussia x Reader) - Chapter 30

Note: This story is based vaguely during the mid 1200s in Eastern Europe where the Teutonic Knights fought the Northern Crusades to try and convert the native pagan population to Christianity. As a result, this story will have heavy religious themes all throughout. It should also be noted that, while referencing real-life events and locations, I am not striving for full historical accuracy. This is for the sake of the story I am telling.

Once again, this series will have heavy religious themes throughout, including discussions of bible stories, doctrine, and scripture verses, as well as critical analysis of Christian doctrine and beliefs. So, if you don't like that, you will want to skip out on this.

Still no answer. How long have I been praying?

(y/n) sat back in defeat, gazing up at the chapels ceiling. The curved beams stretched from the ground upward before crisscrossing up above. Side windows allowed light to cascade down into the room, heavenly rays of light illuminating the space. So much so that she could see little specks of dust float by here.

After her chat with Gilbert, she paced around the fortress, unsure of what to do. She eventually decided to retreat to the chapel and pray, hoping to figure things out. Or at the very least, obtain some kind of comfort. But no matter how much she prayed, answers seemed to forever be out of reach. And the anxiety in her chest refused to subside.

"God, I know you are there. Why will you not answer me?" (y/n) whispered to the heavens, tired and at her wits end. What do I do? Do I follow and do as Captain Nikolaus and Gilbert say? Do I tell Gillen how I feel? Do I even have the strength to go through with either option? Are there any other options I have neglected to realize?

(y/n) understood that time was running out. She felt as if she were standing in the gallows, with a noose tied loosely around her neck. A noose that was slowly beginning to tighten with every passing minute. Closing her eyes, she hoped to find some kind of solace in the silence of the chapel. She would have accidentally fallen asleep had it not been for a sweet, kindly voice from behind startling her.

"Are you having a hard time?" Albrecht asked from a pew behind (y/n). After she jumped, he waved a hand in the air before apologizing. "Oh, sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," She mumbled, her mind clearly occupied by something else. Observing her semi-mournful state, Albrecht leaned forward, crossing his arms on the back of the pew before him, right beside her.

"Is something on your mind?" The young ward pressed.

"Always," (y/n) droned. "By the way, how's your shoulder doing?"

"It's doing well, all thanks to your help," He smiled warmly, sunlight bouncing off of his curly brown hair, giving the appearance of little gold spirals woven into the locks. "Say, are you feeling well?"

"Yes... Well, no. Not exactly," She tried to lie, but she couldn't. Not to that adorable, freckled face. A face that furrowed its brow in concern.

"Would talking about it make you feel better?"

"I suppose."

Albrecht responded by getting up from his seat and moving to sit beside her on the pew, the bench only creaking slightly underneath him. Quietly, he sat in attention, showing he was open to hear anything she had to say.

"Albrecht, have you ever felt like God isn't answering your prayers?"

He paused, looking to the side before answering. "Sometimes, yes."

"What do you make of that? When you ask God questions, and He doesn't answer?"

"Well, that's the funny thing about prayer, and about God," He leaned back in his seat, gazing upward as he spoke of Him. "My mother and father both had different points of view on the subject. My mother would tell me that God answers prayers in all kinds of different ways. For some people, they hear a voice in their heads. For others, He may send a sign, either in the material world or in a dream. And sometimes, He just doesn't answer them because it is not part of His plan. In short, look for signs of God's hand around you."

(y/n) nodded along with Albrecht's explanation. "I can understand that. I remember my father certainly believed that to be the case. What of your father?"

"My father had a more simplistic, albeit straightforward opinion on the subject. As far as he was concerned, if you felt you weren't receiving an answer to your prayer, it meant that God was trusting you to make your own decision. As if to say, 'Both options are good, so just pick one and work your way from there.'"

(y/n) was momentarily stunned, impressed by Albrecht's words. "I must say, I have never thought about it that way before. I never thought about the possibility of God simply telling someone to make up their mind."

Albrecht chuckled. "My father said that probably happens more often than we think. But I admit, it can be frustrating. Usually, when we go to God with a question, we're asking Him to tell us what to do. Not to be told to figure it out."

"Indeed. I suppose this is the Lord's way of trying to help us build some character," (y/n) laughed bitterly, but accepting of the answer Albrecht helped clarify. The two individuals took a moment to sit in silence, allowing the rays of sun to wash over them. Turning to the boy beside her, (y/n) smiled. "Albrecht?"

"Hm?" He turned to look at her, dark brown eyes shining.

"Thank you for being my friend. I am going to miss you."

"And I'll miss you, Miss (l/n)," He gave a sheepish grin. "I take it you're leaving soon."

"I am," She affirmed sadly, but made an effort to maintain her smile, refusing to bring melancholy into the conversation. But the effort appeared to be for naught when she saw Albrecht's grin falter for a moment.

"Well, then I will make it a point to be there at the gate. The last thing you will see is me waving goodbye!"

The two shared a brief spell of laughter before quieting down. After they did so, the two made their way out of the chapel for dinner. Upon exiting the hall of worship, however, (y/n) decided to bid Albrecht farewell and retire early for the night. He responded with a bow, before wishing her farewell in return.

Once she made it to her guest bedroom and opened the door, she had to stop. Her eyes danced around the room, taking in every last detail. The bed she slept in, and the window above where the light would shine in each morning. The curved ceiling descended to walls made of carved wood on the bottom half, with the opposing upper half a warm beige. Smooth planks of wood made up the floor, allowing one to walk around in bare feet without fear of getting splinters. And on the other side of the room, just across from her bed, sat two identical chairs, whereon one lay a nightgown.

Quietly, almost reverently, (y/n) moved across the room to sit upon her bed. Staring at the chairs before her, the memories of the past few months rotated through her mind.

This is the room I woke up in the day after my village was destroyed. After I lost my father. The room where I met Gillen and Gilbert. We would sit here and eat breakfast together each morning for several weeks. All before being treated by Gillen each day.

She felt her face burn when she thought of how he treated her wounds back then. Him having to gently press his fingers against her bare skin as he treated the stab wound on her abdomen. The talks they had, how they butted heads, how they drifted between acquaintances and becoming friends before she ultimately became his apprentice.

And now it's all coming to an end. My time here at the fortress. Spending time with Gilbert and Albrecht. Learning about medicine alongside Gillen... I likely won't see him every again now, will I?

Letting out a deep breath, (y/n) laid down on the bed and turned to her side, gazing at the chairs before her.

Regardless of what choice I make, whether I tell Gillen how I feel or not, one thing is for sure; tomorrow morning, I am leaving Malbork Fortress. And that's all there is to it. Come to think of it, did I really, truly ever have a choice in the first place? Or was I just tricking myself into thinking I did?

As she sunk into her thoughts, she felt her eyes getting heavy. As sleep ironically evaded her, a few, final thoughts trudged across her weary mind.

Perhaps I shouldn't tell Gillen I love him. It would make my departure all the more painful. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to bear it.

Gillen paced around the infirmary that evening, awaiting the dark of night. His mind was spinning, and his heart quaking. But regardless of how he felt, he knew what he had to do. Tonight would be his final and only chance. He couldn't waste it. When he looked out the window and saw the half-moon raise high above the heavens, he stopped. It was time.

After getting completely dressed in his uniform and throwing on his cloak and hood, he made his way for the door, moving as silently as he could through the empty halls.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Guysssss It's gonna get gooooooooooooooood! As always, let me know your thoughts!

[possum-quesadilla]

Chapter seven of Time is a Flat Circle is up and boy oh boy is it a doozy! Here are the extras for this chapter! <3

- This chapter’s title is from “Nobody” by Mitski. She was my rock throughout writing this chapter. If I had less self restraint, the entirety of both of the LoopJuice playlists would be all Mitski. I feel like this song, and the line I chose for the title in particular, really reflect what our sweet little demon wants deep down.

- “Christ on a fuckin’ bike” is taken straight from a coworker’s vernacular.

- “When did I teach him how to summon new clothes?” He did! It was mentioned in passing in a previous chapter that he showed both Adam and Barbara how to conjure new clothes. This is to show how shoddy his memory has gotten.

- “‘Beebleboose’” is, of course, a reference to everyone’s favorite sad puppet show. Also, he can’t even type out his own name due to the curse.

- “.. that erotic Colonel Sanders romance novel..” this is a real thing, unfortunately.

- “The idea of eating brought the bitter taste of bile to the back of his mouth.” One unfortunate possible side affect of burnout is an aversion to food. Everything suddenly seems disgusting, and just the idea of eating sickens you.

- “His lips remained still. It felt as if his whole mouth was coated in cotton.” This is sign of overstimulation I personally experience quite regularly. Your mouth just refuses to work!

- On that same note - a side effect of persistent autistic burnout is significant memory loss and/or brain fog. Hence why Beej forgot (and still continues to sometimes) that the humans can now remember everything.

- “Can I touch you, Bug?” Always ask permission before touching someone who you believe to be having some sort of panic attack or meltdown. Barbara knows to do this due to her experience with Adam!

- “Look at those chompers!” Indeed! Beetlejuice’s teeth are based on that of a spotted hyena, like Adam theorizes later. They have a specialized premolar that can break bone. Here is a pic for reference!

- “How come your tears are black?” It’s actually because they’re mixed with soot from the hellfire in his chest! Beetlejuice’s tears smell like a campfire.

- “Sometimes he still felt like roadkill again.” He has yet to be hit by a car, but he has been trampled by horses.

- “He was a bit taken aback at how curly and.. fluffy his hair had gotten.” They have hair that naturally curls, it’s just been so long since it was clean enough for them to see it. After this point, Beetlejuice’s hair is curly and voluminous! That’s why the other characters find it hard to resist playing with.

- “.. odd rumbling sensation..” Beetlejuice doesn’t know what purring is, or that they do it. They just find the noise embarrassing.

- Adam had a hyperfixation on animals at large when he was young, and spent his free time as a wee tot rereading books of animal facts. This is why he is so knowledgeable and enthused about BJ’s animalistic traits.

- “I met a real foxy witch in a swamp who had an alligator familiar once.” This is a reference to the webcomic Muted, which is about queer witches in New Orleans. Give it a read!

- “C’mon Beej, don’t be like that! You’re, like, the Mike to their Debbie and Dave!” “… what?” “You’re the Gonzo to their Kermit and Miss Piggy!” These are references to my (and Lydia’s) favorite throuple ships in media, besides Beetlands. Mike, Debbie, and Dave are from “Killer Klowns from Outer Space”, and Gonzo, Kermit, and Miss Piggy are, of course, from The Muppets.

- Beetlejuice’s frantic shrimp pocketing is based on another character I deeply relate to, Eleanor Shellstrop from “The Good Place”.

- “‘who in this wide world does not know the great B-” This line is a reference to the musical “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street”, specifically the song “Pretty Women”. I cannot stop the musical references unfortunately

- Ms. Keaton is supposed to be the old woman who tries to bring a pie to the Deetz family in the musical, but her name is, of course, a reference to Michael Keaton, the original actor for Beetlejuice in the Tim Burton film.

- On the surgeries Beetlejuice mentioned - he has gotten top surgery! He is very proud of his top surgery scars. They are not the scars he mentioned being ashamed of in a previous chapter.

- As stated, Lydia is a demigirl! She uses she/they pronouns, and Beetlejuice is nonbinary and uses he/they/it pronouns.

- On the head bumping - Lydia picked it up shortly after Beetlejuice first did it to her. It’s how cats and Beetlejuice show affection. Barbara and Adam are slowly starting to adopt it over time as well.

- Beetlejuice’s horns are, like Adam theorizes, based on a sheep’s. Here is a little sketch of how they used to look, and how they look now! (Also, a peek at his ears. I’m not entirely happy how they came out in the drawing, so this may change.)

- The tail!! Here is a rough drawing of how it looks.

- It is not scaled like a snake, but rather like a possum’s tail. It is prehensile, meaning it can grip things and even support his weight if he used it to hang upside down. It reaches down to about his ankles. The tip shakes like a rattlesnake’s (no noise, though) when he’s nervous or deep in thought, or just as a self-soothing thing. This is based on what my own cat’s tail does when he’s nervous!

- The ear-piercing scene is meant to evoke a similar one in “The Parent Trap”, since it is a sibling bonding scene I really enjoy and find very affective.

- On the demons of their past - each demon’s name is based on a star, like Beetlejuice’s own. They are unafraid to envoke Rigel’s name because he is dead. Deb and Cyrus are nicknames based on their true names, like Beetlejuice and Betelgeuse. I am excited to have Deb and Cyrus to show up in Part 2!

- Beetlejuice’s first marriage was by choice to someone he knew. Their second marriage was an arranged political union.

- Deb is a trans woman!

- “I’ll talk more, just cut it out with the weird… teary eyes!” Not even demons are immune to puppy-dog eyes.

- Beetlejuice’s favorite meal was a bone broth made from meal scraps and various herbs.

- “Chari-sard” Adam was comparing Beetlejuice to a Charizard. Both the demon and the Pokémon have flames that are connected to their life force, and they will die if it ever goes out.

- The whole scene describing Beetlejuice’s favorite meal is based on a similar scene in “Isle of Dogs”, where a stray dog describes the only time he was ever adopted before. He bit a member of his new family so hard he had to be hospitalized, and he doesn’t know why he did it. He says he thinks maybe he was scared. The grandmother of the family brought him a bowl of chili while he was locked in the garden shed, which he says he likes to imagine was for him. He escaped after that and went back to being a stray. This scene strikes a chord with me, and reminds me very deeply of Beetlejuice. He doesn’t understand why he lashes out. He doesn’t want to. He’s not a violent demon. He’s just… scared. (Highly recommend “Isle of Dogs” if you enjoy this fic! It, along with Wes Anderson’s other films, really resonate with me and my experience as an autistic/neurodivergent person. There will be references to “Fantastic Mr. Fox” and “Asteroid City”, as they also greatly influenced how I think and write.)

- Barbara enjoys cooking, as she has a very perceptive palette and likes to experiment. Adam is more adept at baking, because he likes to follow instructions.

- The “shrimps is bugs” hoodie is a real one that one of my good friends has. He is studying etymology.

- “Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious-” this is based off of a popular gag in “Parks and Rec”, one of my favorite shows. (And Adam and Barbara’s! The millennials in my life love a good workplace comedy.)

- “Why couldn’t he just he just grip the spoon the same way he had with his left hand?” Beetlejuice is unaware that dominant and nondominant hands are a thing.

- Like my beloved millennial dad figure, Adam has a deep love for a random movie from the 80’s. I feel like every dad’s got one. His is, of course, “The Terminator”. Arnold Schwarzenegger was his bisexual awakening. All of the factoids he shares about the film are true!

- Finally, the legs! Like his horns, Beetlejuice’s legs resemble that of a sheep’s own back legs. His hooves are cloven, like stated, and his fur is black with brown undertones, like a black cat, or this sheep below! The fur doesn’t grow out much due to stress, but he used to have to shear it often by himself as a child. He probably will have to start doing so again the healthier and happier he gets!

- Nurse Ratched is a villainous nurse from pop culture. Research her with caution, as she does some rather heinous things. Barbara likes true crime!

- A “Texas Switch” is a technique used in filming, and is used in “The Terminator”. My favorite example is in “A Quiet Place Part Two”!

- “Odd, reattached limbs had never healed that quickly before.” That is because they are getting proper care!

- “To distract from the odd little sound they involuntarily made, (seriously, what was that? A chirp?)” It was a trill! Or as I call it, a ‘mrrp’. Some people call it the “cat activation noise”.

- “Some strange show about people working for the government” this is, of course, “Parks and Rec”!

- And that’s it, nothing else happened in this chapter and it ended happily :) (The flashbacks BJ had while having a panic attack are from his mother, Rigel, and Lydia stabbing him, obviously. Yes, all of them stabbing him in some way.)

[deckofaces]

Choose: Love or Heartbreak

(A Secret Santa Snippet)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Once again this year I chose to participate in Secret Santa snippet exchange! This year I coincidentally got my girlfriend @justalittletoocorrupted! I really hope you like it <333

Prompt: Villain x Hero (who is a sidekick to superhero!) and Superhero finds out Hero was dating Villain (or just fell in love with them) and kidnaps them to try and help them understand that's a bad thing and the Villain could save them!

(I ended up doing more villain x civilian (I checked if it would be okay))

Note! As we are really close I decided to use ocs, this is an au where Dystopia from Dystopian Reflections is a civilian, via the name Cain. Vortex/Blank-Slate is @justalittletoocorrupted’s oc and it uses it/its and he/him pronouns

Tw: kidnapping, arguing, mentions of violence, swearing

“Cain Harlow.”

Cain’s head was foggy. He blinked a couple times, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He glanced down at his hands, silvery looking threads were slowly unwrapping from his wrists and making their way back to their creator. His eyes followed and they made their way back to a woman, a superhero more specifically. 

Looking around, the room almost appeared to be an interrogation room. He was not cuffed, but he sat in a closed room at a table across from the hero. 

Nothing was making sense, he last remembered being at the grocery store! He was just shopping! His boyfriend and him were going to have a nice dinner that night and he went to get a few things they would need.. he has no memory of leaving there and ending up with this superhero in front of him!

“…Who are you?”

“The media refers to me as the Porcelain Woman,” the superhero replied simply. 

That makes sense he supposed until suddenly the name clicked in his head and Cain realized exactly who she was. And the alias quickly seemed obvious too. Looking at her, she didn’t look like a normal person, well, because she wasn’t. Her body appeared very doll-like with long, curly black hair and perfect makeup. All exemplified by the apparent cracks across her face, just like what can happen to porcelain.

However, even though she looked like a doll, she wasn’t one. He’s heard his fair share of news stories criticizing her for being a hero. And that is the result of many considering her less than human. She is a powerful spirit inhabiting the life size doll. But the spirit, or a “Reflector,” is a reflection of a real life person, given their name. They are typically chaotic entities. …Not heroes. But he shouldn’t make assumptions about their character..

…But it explains how he got there. From what he’s heard, she has some form of mind control ability in the form of a literal puppet on strings. The doll shell she uses is apparently quite fitting. His face morphed into disgust at the thought of how he got there. 

Cain took a deep breath. “Why am I here?”

She stared at him for a few seconds before answering. Her fake, glassy, and yellow eyes were a bit unnerving. “You should know why you are here, do you not?”

Ah.

He could only be there for one reason, and if a superhero of all people is involved, he definitely knew. But he also wasn’t foolish enough to give himself away without her stating why he’s there first. “I’m afraid I do not understand why I am here. Considering I was taken out of a grocery store, pardon my confusion on the matter.”

The Porcelain Woman drummed her fingers on the table. “It was necessary at the time, it was for your safety,” she stated, brushing off his comment. “You’re here, Mr. Harlow, because of your boyfriend. Are you aware that your partner goes by the alias of Blank-Slate?”

There it is. 

“I do not see why that matters,” Cain answered, trying his hardest to keep his face schooled into a neutral expression.

She stared again, almost as if in surprise. “Your boyfriend has hurt and killed many people, have you no remorse for them, their families, or future victims? It is not a good thing for you to be dating it. Does it not hurt knowing its career and choices?” 

He let out a sigh. He knows what Vortex does is wrong, horrible even, but it has never made him feel unsafe.. rather it has made him feel so loved and cared for. Maybe it’s selfish that that is all he cared to think about in this situation but he didn’t care. And it likely makes him a horrible person too, but if it ever asked him to join it in what it does, he’s sure he’d say yes in a heartbeat..

“Blank-Slate treats me with much more love and care than anyone else ever has. What it does may not be considered right, but it has never subjected me to its lifestyle, rather it does its best to protect me from it,” Cain replied calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

The Porcelain Woman scoffed at his comment. “Do you really believe it loves you? It is a villain, Mr. Harlow, one that seeks to draw any sort of horrible reaction it can get out of someone. That means it will eventually revel in the heartbreak it will inevitably cause you.”

Cain shook his head. “You do not understand the nature of our relationship. You believe that to be true when in reality I am an exception to that idea.”

“No, you are failing to understand. I want to help you, this agency wants to help you. Being in that relationship is only going to bring you a lot of pain. We want to help you and stop that from happening. Loving Blank-Slate will hurt you. It is not someone you should love.” Her tone held a bit of concern, but for him it was difficult to distinguish if it was genuine or fake. 

Despite that, this situation was ridiculous, he wanted to go home! He spun a ring on his finger that Vortex gave him to try and calm himself and his anxieties. He hoped to get out of there soon, or maybe Vortex already realized he hadn't come home when he said he would…

Cain supposed he could understand some of her points, he knew it enjoys getting a reaction out of people, but that’s not how it is in regards to him. The amount of times it has seen him vulnerable and treated him with so much love and compassion and respect.. The amount of times he’s seen it so vulnerable.. if it wanted to hurt him, it would have done so many months ago. He’s never loved anyone quite like Vortex and this superhero will not sway him from that. 

“I get what you are trying to convey, but I do not want help from you or your agency. Rather, I wish you would have let me just go about my day,” he said more firmly. He was tired of being there now. He hasn’t been there very long, but being in that room quickly aggravated him. Everything just was wrong about this. 

“Mr. Harlow,” the superhero interjected, “your safety is at risk here! I am merely trying to offer you a way out of your situation but you are only showing me disrespect for my efforts!”

Cain gritted his teeth before raising his voice. Not only was this aggravating, but he was also talking to a wall. How lovely. “That is because you fail to show me respect! I do not want your efforts!! Let me spell it out, I. Do. Not. Want. Your. Help.” He sucked in a breath before trying to continue, his voice returning to a normal volume. “I’ll get ‘hurt’ in your words for all I damn care. It is not your responsibility to look after me.”

“I understand that it’s not my responsibility, but I don’t want you to be added to its list of victims! Blank-Slate-“

“Blank-Slate,” Cain snapped, “Is the love of my life whether you like it or not. Quite frankly, it has treated me far better than you have, and I have only known you for less than a day.”

“You don’t make it easy to get into contact with you,” The Porcelain Woman sneered. “Your career as a doctor makes you busy and most other times you are spotted with the villain. Bringing you here today in the way I had may have been unethical, but I had no choice. You were free and it was the only opportunity I had to get you here. If you would hear me out, you would understand it was for the better!”

“Oh so you and your band of heroes have been keeping tabs on me? You can’t, you know, send me an email or message that your heroes need to talk to me? You resorted to kidnapping me?” Cain threw his hands up in exasperation. “I’m going to repeat myself one more time, leave me alone. I am happy with my boyfriend. I do not care about your concerns about my supposed safety.”

“That was only a result of trying to keep tabs on Blank-Slate, which is actually incredibly difficult to do. We only very recently discovered you are its partner,” she retorted.

Cain has had enough of all of this. There seemed to be no convincing this woman that he feels safe and loved in his relationship. And really it should be none of her business at all! She’s entirely convinced that Vortex will just suddenly start hurting him one day just because it can. They’ve been dating for quite awhile and it hasn’t done so. 

And what’s more, he’s been able to see a side of Vortex that it doesn’t show anyone else. To others it very easily can seem cruel! But to him it has only ever been caring and affectionate and so so loving. But even when he has accidentally caught it doing its villain work, he can’t help but be a bit fascinated by it. And strangely enough, after seeing what it does and seeing it hasn’t done anything to him, it only has made him feel more safe and secure in their relationship.

Cain stood up from his chair. “I appreciate you trying to ‘warn me’ about my boyfriend, but I really do not need your assistance and I would like to get going home.” 

“Please sit, we are not done talking, Mr. Harlow. Going back to your boyfriend would be a bad idea,” the hero advised, her glassy eyes watching him stand.

“No, ma’am, I am heading home. Excuse me,” he said while trying to move past her to the door. 

“We aren’t done,” she stated, more harshly this time. Silvery threads shot from her hands towards his legs. He yelled a curse before quickly stumbling backwards, narrowly avoiding them. 

“Are you fucking delusional??” Cain cried out. “I acknowledge why you may be upset with my decision but that is unacceptable! For a hero especially! Contrary to what you think, my love for Blank-Slate will not lead to something completely horrific!”

“I’m not allowed to let you walk out so easily. I apologize that you don’t get it, but Blank-Slate is incredibly dangerous. I need you to stay awhile longer, I wasn’t even close to finishing on this matter.” 

Throughout this whole argument, the woman’s face has been just about completely neutral the entire time minus her tone, and it honestly was becoming infuriating. In the right state of mind he would realize that her being so doll-like didn’t allow for a great range of physical emotion, but in the moment it only ticked him off more. To him it only seemed like she concerned herself with breaking the two apart rather than how he felt. 

“No no! I’m done with this!” Cain argued, “You keep talking about me hearing you out but you have not been listening to me. You kidnapped me to talk to me, then you started preaching about how my boyfriend’s and I’s love is invalid, and then you refuse to let me leave!”

“Mr. Harlow—“

A knock sounded at the door. 

They both fell silent and turned to look at the sound. The Porcelain Woman answered the door, only to find another superhero he’s never seen before on the other side. 

“Mr. Harlow is needed by another hero for questioning, it is required that this continues later,” the stranger at the door said to the superhero.

“Fine, bring him back as soon as they are done.” She shot a glare over to Cain, but stepped out of the way to let him pass.

A wave of relief washed over him to finally get away from her as he stepped past her next to the stranger. He didn’t know where he was going but hopefully it would be better. If it entailed questioning, maybe not.. but here’s to hoping.

The two walked through the corridors of the unfamiliar agency. After a minute or two, the stranger spoke to him. And as soon as he did, it practically made him want to fall into its arms on the spot. 

Ensuring no one was around, the stranger shifted into a different person, returning to the form of his boyfriend. Telepathically it spoke gently to him, “Are you okay baby..? I’m going to get you out of here, just play along and act as if I’m one of the heroes.”

“I’m okay..” Cain mumbled, watching as Vortex shapeshifted back into the hero, “Thank you for finding me.”

It telepathically reassured him that it would always find him. It noticed that he never came home on time and wasn’t answering any of its messages alerting it that something was wrong.

Being fully disguised as a hero, Vortex escorted Cain safely out of the building without alarm. The pair headed home where they could have a relaxing evening like they originally had planned. 

[tubbypeddle]

hii, I'd like a matchup for percy jackson and one piece please! (I'm using the previous person's request as a template sorry)

I’m a 5’9 girl, have brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly/coily, brown hair. I have an athletic/rectangle-type body. I usually wear jorts/cargos and graphic tees when I feel masc. I love to wear crop tops and shorts when I feel more feminine.

im bisexual with a preference for men

im usually an extrovert on most days, especially with people I know, but sometimes I'm more introverted. i like to push myself to be a better version of me. i love adventuring, but I also enjoy relaxing a lot. i have a creative and active mind and I talk a lot. i love listening and debating on topics I enjoy.

i dislike people who are rude just to be rude/rude because they think its cool. people who give backhanded comments or gossip. i hate feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated, or just feeling tired in general.

irrational fear of heights lol. but really, im scared of not having a good future, and everything going wrong after college.

my hobbies are, reading, traveling, sports, writing, games, and baking

i love hugs and quality time with people I love, whether that be going out or just chilling at home.

what i prefer in a partner is someone who will be there for me when I struggle and feel overwhelmed. someone willing to be there for comfort, but also someone who isn't afraid of communicating their own feelings.

i think that's it, thank you!

okay so. ignore that this took even longer than it normally would.

because.

if you mention it, I might genuinely crash out

anyway.

(author's note: credits to gif owners, I do not own them. again, I literally cannot apologize enough, I am so sorry these are taking so long.)

It's shocking news. To hear that you're a demigod. The child, of a Greek myth.

Yeah right.

But, you suppose it would explain all the strange things that happened to you in your childhood. Apparently all of those myths that Mr. Brunner told you in school were real.

Because your best friend has goat hooves for feet???

He takes you to Camp Half-Blood, which your (apparently) satyr friend says is the only place safe for demigods like you. Almost everyone is shocked to meet you, especially because you're much older

He takes you to the Hermes cabin, where you'll stay until your Godly parent claims you.

And there, you meet

Travis Stoll

Now it may not be obvious at first, but let me explain.

He's one of the two head counselors for the cabin. Him and his brother personally get you situated into Camp life.

Connor finds you fun and polite enough, but it's Travis who has a crush on you.

It's like at first sight with you.

Connor and Travis have rather different types in women they like, which is why I personally see you with Travis more than Connor.

Connor likes girls who are softer. Maybe a little more "delicate". Girls who giggle at his every joke.

Travis likes his girls a little more athletic, of which there is no shortage of in Camp Half-Blood. He likes girls who are strong. Girl where he doesn't have to worry about them being hurt when he isn't around.

At first though, he doesn't even think his crush will go anywhere. He just likes to admire you from afar.

He's much too busy as a year-round Head counselor. Let alone, the replacement head counselor of a camper gone rogue.

The day his crush on you goes somewhere is when he finds you breaking down in a corner of the Hermes cabin. Your godly parent is just taking forever to claim you. You feel unwanted. Abandoned. Alone.

Now, this is nothing new to Travis. It's like a demigod's rite of passage into Camp Half-Blood.

Doesn't make it any easier to see someone else feeling the same way he did once upon a time.

He comforts you as best he can. He lets you scream and cry, or he lets you throw things around, if that's how you handle things.

And when you're done with your crying, he offers ways to get your mind off of it. Sparring, or drawing with you. Reading whatever textbooks the Big House has.

He even tells you about his own experiences with the gods. His own quests he's been on, big or small. He tells you about how his father claimed him. He isn't afraid of being vulnerable with you, even though all of his instincts are yelling at him to be paranoid.

From there, your friendship becomes something more. You find yourself looking for him whenever either of you have free time.

Since you enjoy active activities just as much as quieter ones, it's rather lucky Travis is the one who likes you. He's the same way.

He doesn't read as much, because even though all the books in Camp Half-Blood are written in Greek, he just doesn't like reading. But he'll listen to you read. He likes listening to you read aloud. Or even if you don't want to do that, he'll probably whittle away at a piece of wood while you draw.

His main love languages are quality time and acts of service after all. This is how he shows you he likes you.

It's very lucky that neither of you enjoy gossip. Travis hates rumors and all that what have you. It's a big reason why he doesn't get along with a lot of the Aphrodite kids.

His favorite dates with you are when you two go out and do something active. Preferably when you two can leave the camp. Not far, probably not even out of Manhattan.

He just wants to take you out to do something fun, that will leave memories that the two of you can cherish for a lifetime.

Honorable mentions!

Frank Zhang

You're actually pretty close to his canon romantic interest type. At least, what I'm imagining, based on your description. He also likes quieter activities, while still enjoying more physical things, too. You two would spend a lot of your time together since you enjoy many similar things. I just felt he'd be too obvious of a choice. (and also, he's from Heroes of Olympus, technically, and I didn't know if that's what you were also looking for.)

What a lovely dive into the world of Percy Jackson!

Now, it's time to move on from the world of gods and demigods, and into the world of pirates and giants.

You're sailing the Big Blue. Whether as a pirate or military, doesn't matter.

Either way, it's

Koby

He meets you by chance. Most likely while he's infiltrating a pirate's ship.

He finds you, probably being held hostage. And he rescues you.

He's enamored by you when you two first meet. He finds himself wanting to keep in touch with you after he's rescued you from the pirates, whether or not you are a pirate yourself.

He's proved before that he doesn't care about where you stand on that front. He just wants to hold your hand.

At first, he tries to get your attention by leaving you gifts. Anonymously, of course.

Training under Garp may have given him confidence in himself, but not confidence in his courting skills.

He leaves you little things like seashells he found along the beaches he came across that reminded him of you. Little flowers he came across while patrolling a town. Chocolates, if you're into those.

(He's getting all of his ideas from romance novels)

It takes him a long time to muster the courage to tell you who's leaving you those gifts.

Should you decide to accept him, I promise you that he's a great boyfriend.

He's attentive, and kind, and gives you everything that you want whenever he's able to. (His love languages are gift giving and quality time)

He makes time in his schedule for you. All of his vacation days are used up just for your dates.

He also enjoys just listening to you talk. He enjoys debating with you, just because he likes hearing your opinions and thoughts, even if sometimes he doesn't agree.

Also, he adores your style. Honestly, what someone wears isn't the first thing that catches his attention about people he's attracted to. It's their determination and their willpower that draws him in.

But he thinks you look cute in everything you choose to wear. Whether it be your crop tops and shorts, or your tanks and cargo jeans.

Really, he's just completely enamored by you.

Out of everyone, Koby is probably the most emotionally competent. At least, in the navy, he is. It's not often that you two have arguments. You understand that he does his best to make time for you, and he's very amenable to understanding you and how you work.

So when you two do get into arguments, Koby makes it a point to never raise his voice, no matter how frustrated he gets. He listens to what you have to say and is careful to change his behavior should he find you correct in what you're saying.

Relationships are a lot of work, but it's nothing he's not willing to do.

Honorable mentions!

Luffy

It's not that I thought he was obvious, although it was an obvious choice to me. It's that I think he might not be able to sit down for too long to have those long kinds of conversations that you seem to love. He's too hyper, he has to be doing something always. (and also he'd eat all your food)

I hope you enjoyed it 🥺

[play-on-skinners-box]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER FIVE OF RAINCODE(And a LARGE amount of text)

I wanted to do more Raincode furries cause they're honestly so fun and are really good practice because I'm kinda rusty in general. I only did Yuma and Makoto this time just cause it's a more manageable workload and they are some of the last ones I'm especially passionate about.

OKAY, BUCKLE UP BABY, THESE CHOICES HAVE LAYERS TO THEM. L A Y E R S

OKAY SO, at some point scrolling on tumblr I saw this post by Nadox showcasing a piece of Yuma's concept art, and in the art he was depicted with long hair. They theorized that this was what Number One originally looked like and he sheared his hair into that wimpy fresh almost bowl cut so he could pass as a trainee, AND I L O V E THAT. I herby declare it as correct on the grounds of I said so.

Going along with this idea, Yuma is a young wolf that has a lame haircut so everyone THINKS he's just a dog. I know a wolf in real life would be a lot harder to reasonably pass as a dog, so this requires a bit of anime logic tomfuckery, but I'm fine with that because Raincode already deals in its fair share of logic jank. I am simply being true to game in that regard! The way I drew him already isn't super wolf-like cause I made him all squishy looking like human Yuma, and made the veerrryyyy tips of the ears flop over because the pointy ones just didn't feel quite right. I know real wolf ears are only ever depicted as pointy but it was for the VIBE. Yeaahhh in hindsight I might have taken a few too many liberties. I suppose to make it a little more sensible you could say he's a wolfdog and not full wolf or something. Other than the logic I really like this choice because everyone would naturally assume Yuma's just a pathetic little puppy dog when his real identity is hiding in plain sight!

I went back and forth on alot of the fur aspects. How smooth is too smooth? How much of it should just look like blunt cuts? Should I even give him his human hair? Usually I don't like giving my furries human hair in general because I want them looking a lot more like animals rather than people, but for Yuma his hair is such an important part of his design that I ultimately decided to keep it on both him and Makoto.

MAKOTO IS A WOLF IN SHEEPS CLOTHING AND THAT IS SO FUN, SO SILLY, SO GOOFY, HOOOORAY(Specifically a dall sheep cause they have those big curly horns). In theory, the hardest part of choosing an animal for Yuma is that whatever his animal is needs to tie into Makoto, and also be able to be implemented in a way where their connection isn't obvious. Makoto having a mask helps of course, but if you pick a really distinctive animal for Yuma you'll have to come up with better ways to hide it. Others have gotten a lot more creative with how Makoto hides his species, but I didn't do that and went in the full direction of just giving him a disguise. Its a littlllleeeeee lazy but I'm too smitten with the idea to care. I was a little confused on what to do with the tail. I considered just chopping off the majority of it to make it look like a short little sheep tail and put the justification for it in his suuuuppper tragic past(Though I honestly don't know if homunculi can regenerate like lizards). Luckily, the pose makes it so you can't see it anyway so I don't have to grapple with the responsibly of weather or not I need to brutally amputate one of Makoto's body parts. I consider this a win.

Disregarding his actual animal, I think the sheep is also weirdly fitting because of some of their associations. When I met Makoto I wasn't sure what to make of him besides being cautiously optimistic about him not letting Yuma die(What a fool I was), and sheep/lambs/rams and animals in that ballpark can vary wildly in their depictions from literaly the devil to good little fluffy guys!

For his actual look I wanted the sheep parts to look costumey sort of. I was going for a similar effect as the blood in chapter 0, where it's very noticeable but you write off the weird things about it because it's not immediately relevant. So, the mask has fake horns attached. The hand hooves are just little caps over the paw fingers, and there are two gold and silver caps to mimic his rings and point to their artificiality. The feet are also fake and are suppose to look a little clunky like Makoto's actual shoes. His hair is also much more full looking, a little less limp; because his actual ears need some place to get tucked away. I think the main problem with this design is it'd make for a really awkward reveal, cause when he dramatically gets the mask taken off then he'd just be a canine with hooves.

For both of them I think wolf works very well in terms of their characters and their shared forte. Yuma spends most of the game struggling with needing to rely on others, and Makoto has been carrying the weight of Kanai Wards secret on his shoulders alone for like three years. They also both have the Coalescence forte, which by it's very nature requires the help of other people, and at the end of the day being with others and working together is what brings them farther then they could do alone(even if some of the themes get muddled at the end and arn't really as clear as I'd personally like I find that Kodaka's games can have some not so rock solid theming with shakey conclusions but this is what I chose to take away from it)

These aspects of their characters fit perfectly with the stereotypical idea of a strong and stoic lone wolf in contrast to real wolves being pack animals that work together to survive!

I thought I'd like Yuma's design more by a landside cause I've grown really fond of his human design, but I actually really love this version of Makoto. I guess any designs with horns or hooves just appeals to me in a way that paws don't. Still really happy with these two. They could most certainly be worse! I think they're both cute little guys though and I learned a lot about how to like, render from this so that's a bonus!