#and I’d rather have my collection that is so special to me

[rejoiceandfalltoyourknees]

Hello hi…

It’s been about a year since I’ve been active and I’m back bc. I’m selling parts of my Big Fall Out Boy collection :0

This one.

Dm me with any questions/ for more information;0

[isakvaltersnake]

things from the 2001 television programme band of brothers that haunt me to this day:

- we’re paratroopers lieutenant, we’re supposed to be surrounded. not to be your 60 year old military obsessed uncle about it but that line goes hard

- nix’s little giggle he does sometimes

- I’ll never forgive them for leaving gene’s medic training out of their training montage. in fact you know what? go back in time, film a parallel sequel of the other 9 eps from gene’s pov

- popeye’s “they called you guys too?” and the way his accent specifically scratches my brain

- they gave me moose heyliger and his massachusetts accent for like 20 minutes then the narrative snatched him away from me and i still miss him

- the way meehan looks at winters after he tells him to close the flap, in fact let’s talk about how every single one of winters’ commanders are obsessed with him in one way or another he truly is the it girl

- the chaos and fear that precedes gene and the calm and comfort that follows him

- I know everyone thinks “we’ll go to chicago, I’ll take you there” is the insane line but the one that actually makes me lose sleep is “what, and give up all this?” THAT MAN SAID I WOULD RATHER LIVE THROUGH THE HORRORS OF WAR THAN HAVE LIVED MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU

- alley is So Beautiful and I don’t think we collectively talk about it enough

- babe being some rando replacement in episode three and whilst his other replacement friends are being absolutely roasted he is immediately adopted by bill and then gets gene fucking roe of all people to connect to him?? he’s too powerful I need to study him

- speirs being this ghoulish terrifying boogeyman until lip is anywhere near him then he’s suddenly dimples and kicking his feet and giggling

- speaking of lip and speirs their little sarcastic in jokes, lip finishing speirs’ sentences fml it’s giving married

- you been working out? IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?? LIEB YOU SLUT?? THEN YOURE GONNA LAY IN HIS BED WAITING FOR HIM??? insane behaviour

- the unexplored but high potential friendships and the way I wanted like 16 more episodes for shifty and lip, nix and luz, nix and web, sisk and perconte, winters and gene, grant and tab, lieb and alley, speirs and harry, etc

- the more haggard and bitchy nix gets the hotter he gets. he also must be studied.

- “you should pack up those ears and go home” ok sobel kinda ate with that one ngl

- speaking of sobel the little confused/bewildered/piss-pants faces he makes david schwimmer the actor you are

- the silly little wide stance pennywise ass run hall does before he gets murked RIP king

- klepto speirs ilysm

- joe toye and his brass knuckles are v sexy

- sink letting nix give winters his oak leaves was very shipper girl of him

- lip harry nix speirs winters in the eagle’s nest dream blunt rotation

- the unsustainable amount of cunt served by nix, frank, babe, and luz at all times is truly a marvel

- tab really checked lip’s dick and balls mid battle and honestly that’s friendship

- bit parts for simon pegg, tom hardy, andrew scott, james mcavoy, michael fassbender, jimmy fallon ?? bob casting director you will always be famous

- peacock is so fine if he was even a little good at his job I’d be obsessed with him (special shout out to the scene of him getting sent home on furlough)

- I could list out every one of their meaningful little moments together but really it’s babe and gene just tethering and grounding each other and how they seem to gravitate to each other out of blind instinct? that’s some Brontë whatever our souls are made of bullshit I’m afraid

- ok I know I said I wasn’t talking about little meaningful moments but gene staring across the convent at where babe is sitting, lost in the peace

-bull in replacements getting imprinted on by a bunch of baby ducks and being SO PLEASED ABOUT IT he’s not the stepfather, he’s the father that stepped up

- speaking of, the underutilization of bull in the back half is such an out of character bad call

- you are officers, you are grown ups, you oughta know. HE’S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT AND THAT’S ON GENE BEING THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO TELL OFF WINTERS

- I know nix and winters are married and whatever but the real married couple behaviour is luz constantly pissing off joe and joe immediately letting it go

- lip and speirs and their mutual competency kink

- I’M REAL SORRY FRANK skinny ilysm

[prael]

Kinktember 2024 - A Retrospective

What. A. Month. I want to start with my gratitude to every single person who read, commented, liked, reblogged, sent asks, discussed, and otherwise interacted in any other possible way with this whole shebang.

To close it all out, I want to give some of my thoughts and peel back the curtain a little on Kinktember.

Some Facts

168,396 words. One hundred and sixty-eight thousand, three hundred and ninety-six words. Averaging at 5,155 words per fic. Wow.

52 unique idols made an appearance and four were featured on more than one occasion; Wonyoung, Karina, Chaewon and Sakura are the four idols who hold that prestige.

Writing time on these pieces varied heavily, while I attempted to constrict myself to writing each fic in a single day, some of them got far beyond initially planned, with the most amount of time being spent on day 18, the IU fic. That one took roughly a total of 20 hours including editing. The quickest was as short as a 2-hour turnaround on days 14 and 15 (Chaewon and Youngeun).

Special Thanks

I’d like to take a moment before giving my personal thoughts to make a special token of gratitude to certain people. While there has been so much support from so many people and I would love to shout everyone out, I’m limiting myself to just a few.

Firstly, to @maemisnippets for the message on 14/07/2024 that was simply “Stand and carry” in reference to Youngeun. That single simple message became the catalyst for this entire Kinktember.

Secondly, to @midnightdancingsol for taking the time to help me make the initial plan for all the days of Kinktember and making many great suggestions that spawned a lot of these fics. Also thank you to everyone else for your suggestions and ideas.

Finally, to @capslocked for a great many things, from discussing details as small as how to format my posts to everything else you did.

Your Questions

Did you set yourself a time to do each one like a challenge to finish each to make it manageable? I gave myself 1 day per fic, whatever time I could spare during that day would be all I had to complete it, I think for around 27 of them, I managed to stick to this schedule. Some of them did spill over into a second day, such as the longer ones like IU.

How the hell did you find the motivation/inspiration to complete the whole thing? Honestly, I found it incredibly fun. I think I often get stuck in bigger projects and my brain gets all foggy, but with all of these fic being quick and snappy, I never got that feeling. Things kept being fresh and exciting and I was pretty much always looking forward to jumping into the next fic.

How did you approach choosing your kinks? / How did you come up with more of the exotic kinks? First I started with the obvious ones, the ones that instantly came to mind, and just threw them into a list. There are some niche ones that I always wanted to write too, but never had a reason to, such as electrophilia and vicarphilia. So even the more ‘exotic’ choices, I was acutely aware of. Then to round it out I did a little research online and pulled together a list of ‘potential’ kinks, which allowed me to fill out the missing slots.

Did you find varying each entry to be easy or difficult? What went into your thought process when it came to setting up each of the entries and the kink involved? Collecting a list of varied kinks was rather easy, at least initially, once I cut that down to the ones I would like to write, I ended up with a few spaces, and those final few became really difficult. But that’s why it’s great to have a community to lean on and ask for ideas. The thought process wasn’t really anything special beyond that. I just created a list and then picked out what I wanted to write, and then decided on idols to feature in each one. This leads nicely onto the image below, I scraped this initial list from a DM with another writer. As you can see, the initial list I put together on day one contained a large number of the ideas that made it into the final cut. This also serves as an answer to the questions on what ideas I decided to drop.

How did you match the featured idol(s) to the kink you have planned? Was it based on their idol personality? Or was it just random? I approached it in a similar way to how I would with most other fics, where if I think an idol’s personality lends itself to the fic, then I will do just that. Of course, it’s impossible to be really accurate and I had to take some creative liberties where needed. Although, on some occasions, I did just throw an idol in there and write her without thinking about her actual personality too much. This usually happens with idols I know less about.

I'm curious how you went about writing some of the more nicher kinks like electrophilia? The simple answer would be to say that I approached it the same way as I did every other fic. None of the kinks required me to do any further research as they’re all kinks that I’m familiar with and am interested in. So in the end I just wrote what felt right.

Was there an idol that you started liking after finishing writing her? For the sake of my own enjoyment/motivation, I only chose to write idols I already liked. Though I would say that writing the Shuhua fic made me a lot more attracted to her than normal. I could also possibly put IU here too, since she’s not really on the forefront of my mind, but became much more so after writing her.

Was there an idol in particular that you 'wanted' to write, but ultimately switched it to a different idol instead? REI. How did I not write REI?! She was in the original draft list where I was going to do some form of bondage piece, but ultimately all the ideas I had for it were absorbed into other fics.

This feels like a good point to share this initial list I completed with Sol while planning. A lot of this remained true to plan, but you may spot some changes.

Now that it's done are you glad you did it or did you end up regretting your decision at some point? Overall, I’m happy and proud and think it was 100% worth it. I relished the challenge and it took me out of my comfort zone. Right now, the only regrets I have are the fics where I know I could have done more/better but I know that I have to accept that I did the best I could in the time constraints. There were times along the way when I had my regrets and wondered if I should even have bothered, particularly when a fic wasn’t well received, but I know now I had just to accept that.

Do you feel more familiar with your style/voice as a writer, if so: what have you discovered? Did you learn anything from this writing-wise? Discovered some new writing styles and possibly improved some? I think the most important thing I took away from this is how important it is to just get words down on the page. I have spent time previously stuck in my own head and grinding to a halt in a fic when trying to make things work. Kinktember simply wouldn’t allow that, so I had to adapt. I learned to be ruthless by deleting the things that didn’t work and pushing on without trying to be overly perfect. I don’t think I developed my ‘voice’ or style too much because I believe it did have to take a backseat at times in order to maintain pace. However, I did get the opportunity to try new things, such as FxF and writing for a gender-neutral reader and also varying the pacing within the fics. Fics such as the Kkura one where I cut together four short, connected scenes really suited the concept and were very fresh to write.

Which fic do you think the idol and the kink are a 'perfect' match? Maybe in terms of reader reception or how quickly you got into the flow state when writing it? Well, I wasn’t sure at the time, but I was told that Karina and dressing up as a maid worked really well. I also think there were a few really obvious combinations that I leaned on, such as spanking Chaewon and having Ryujin and Yeji scissor, or having Minju be a doll. Those are ones that just instantly clicked for me and I thought to myself it was a perfect match. I would say I entered the biggest flow state when writing the Moka x Yunah, I found it incredibly hot, so much so that I finished the fic and then when going to edit, I wrote the second scene. Idk I’m just really down bad for Moka rn. Also, I hear that I really nailed the Yunjin/Kkura/Chaewon dynamic, so probably that one too.

Is there a fic that you would have written regardless but just so happened to be included in kinktember, if that makes sense? I never really know what I’m going to write next until I’m writing it, and I never know if it will be posted until I post it. This makes it hard for me to really guarantee that anything in Kinktember would one day come to fruition. The closest to it would be part 2 of the Minji fic, How Sweet To Be Alone. I always wanted to follow up on it, so being able to add it as a kinktember fic became a bit of a perfect storm. There are other fics too that I always wanted to write, and maybe I would have one day, but kinktember made it a reality.

Would you do kinktember(or any other variant) again? Would you recommend writers to try it at least once? I would say I’m more likely to do it again than I am not, but I can’t guarantee it. As for recommending it to other writers… the honest answer is no. I feel that it goes against so many of a writer's natural instincts. It takes over your life. It consumes your time. You’re forced to work unnaturally hard and you’re forced to reduce your standards. I don’t think it’s healthy for anyone to push to do something like this.

Finally, throughout the month I had so many nice asks that I couldn't respond to, but I read them all and appreciated them all so much.

[somevagrantchild]

Missing Loustat scene discovered in Anne Rice's diaries

I HAVE SOMETHING AMAZING TO SHARE WITH YOU!!

As I was reading Anne Rice's diaries in the special collection library at Tulane University while I was in New Orleans for the Vampire Ball, I discovered this intensely sexy scene she wrote between Louis and Lestat that never made it into her books. This is Anne Rice's original writing, never before shared anywhere online.

Anne Rice wrote this scene by hand in her diary dated November 6, 2015 (which she mentions is the day before Stan's birthday. He would have been 73😭). I have deduced that it is her very first (and very rough) draft of the scene that eventually became chapter 4 in Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis, aka the scene where Louis agrees to move into the chateau and be Lestat's partner/companion again. The final version of the scene in the book reads like wedding vows, serving as the beginning of their marriage in the modern era. As you'll see, the first draft was rather different. 

In Prince Lestat, Louis and Lestat's interactions are extremely brief, and they aren't able to talk beyond one stolen moment to reassure each other of their love. It would seem that in the six months between the end of Prince Lestat (when Louis thinks to himself that he will be with Lestat very soon), and the beginning of Atlantis (when that finally ends up happening), Louis and Lestat do not have any intimate conversation. They may have talked somewhat, but only briefly about superficial matters, or they may have not even spoken to each other once over those six months until Lestat asks Louis to meet him in New Orleans for chapter 4.

In an earlier diary entry, I found a note where Anne said she wanted their first reunion conversation to begin by finally addressing Louis dumping Lestat's body in the swamp after Claudia tried to kill him—something they have never once discussed. So when I came across this scene in a later diary, I could tell it was a direct follow-through on that idea. 

The scene begins with Lestat speaking to Louis, and it seems they are outside on the streets of New Orleans, but someplace private where they aren't being observed by mortals. This is different from the final book version with them sitting at a sticky table at the Café Du Monde (though it is similar to how Lestat tells us they walked around the city streets together for hours after the reunion scene was over). 

Anne headed this part of the diary entry with: Early on: L+L quarrel—

“I can forgive her for what she did. She was never a human being. She went from being an infant to a monster. But you—you stood there and watched. You carried my body into the swamps and dumped me there as if I were trash—you were the one I hated! How could you do that to me? Decades we’d been together!”

He stared at me for the longest time—not defensive, not angry.

“I could do it because I was afraid,” he said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live without you.”

“I don’t believe you. You were fine without me. You were preparing to sail to Europe. You were making plans.”

A torrent of words.

“Stop!” he said. “I’m here now. I love you! I thought you wanted me here! I thought you’d forgiven me. I thought we had a second chance, now, you and I. And miles to travel together!”

I nodded.

“A second chance!”

I nodded.

Then I took hold of him as if I was going to kill him. I threw him up against the wall and bit into his neck for the first time in two hundred years—the first time since the first time—and when the blood gushed into my mouth, I saw again—for the first time in two hundred years—his soul, his heart.

I was lost in his mind, his thoughts, his dreams, flashes…

I drew back—I’d drunk too much. He was being held there by me, his head bowed. I slapped him hard and when he opened his eyes, I pushed his open mouth against my neck. I forced his fangs into me.

And we were together, wrapped in one another’s arms…

Finally I pushed him back.

He was sitting on the paving stones, hair in his face, back to the wall. I took his hand and helped him up.

“Kiss me,” I said. “No, really kiss me.”

Finally I let him go.

“I can’t live without you! “ he said. “I swear, you wander off on me again, I…”

“I won’t. I won’t ever.”

We walked along in silence.

“He loves you too,” he said.

“Who?”

“The silent one, the one who’s never spoken to me, the one inside you.”

It was time. I could have lingered a half hour more in the old times, but the time was now.

The End 

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

Above is the clean version, which I have corrected for missing punctuation, missing letters/words, and necessary dialogue tags.

Below is the original rough version as I have transcribed exactly from Anne Rice's handwritten diary.

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

“I can forgive her for what she did. She was never a human being. She went from being an infant to a monster. But you—you stood there & watched. You carried my body in the swamps & dumped me there as if I were trash—you were the one I hated! How could you do that to me? Decades we’d been together!

He stared at me for the longest time—not defensive, not angry.

I could do it because I was afraid, he said. “I didn’t know how I was going to live without you.”

“I don’t believe. You were fine without me. You were preparing to sail to Europe. You were making plans.”

—A torrent of words.

“Stop! I’m here now. I love you! I thought you ’d wanted me here! I thought you’d forgive me. I thought we had a second chance, now, you & I. And miles to travel together!”

I nodded—

“A second chance!”

I nodded—

Then I took hold of him as if I was going to kill him. I threw him up against the wall & bit into his neck for the first time in 200 years—the first time since the first time—and when the blood gushed into my mouth I saw again—for the first time in 200 years—his soul, his heart—

I was lost in his mind, his thoughts, his dreams, flashes — (more)

I drew back—I’d drunk too much He was being held there by me, his head bowed. I slapped him hard & when he opened his eyes I pushed his open mouth against my neck. I forced his fangs into me.

And we were together, wrapped in one another arms — (more)

Finally I pushed him back.

He was sitting on the paving stones, hair in his face, back to the wall. I took his hand & helped him up.

Kiss me. No really kiss me.

Finally I let him go.

I can’t live without you! I swear, you wander off on me again, I … I ”

“I won’t. I won’t ever.”

We walked along in silence —

He loves you too

Who

The silent one, the one who’s never spoken to me, the one inside you.

It was time. I could have linger a half hour more in the old times, but was now —

The End 

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

The spots where she wrote (more) are clearly areas where she intended to expound upon all Lestat was seeing and feeling in Louis's mind, soul, and blood, and then what he felt and saw as Louis was drinking from him. How I wish we could know what she would have written there! Also the lines that start or end with a — make me wonder if she intended to add more to those bits as well. Would she have actually written out Lestat's torrent of words?

Lestat's line "Kiss me. No really kiss me." isn't in quotation marks in Anne's diary. I chose to add them, because there were many other obviously spoken-aloud dialogue lines also without quotes. But it is possible that Lestat only thinks these words as he and Louis are kissing each other. It reminds me of in Queen of the Damned, when Daniel thinks, "I like kissing. And suggling with dead things, yes, hold me." The narration doesn't tell us Armand actually starts holding him, but Anne's style of using internal monologue makes it clear that's what happens in the action. So the "Kiss me." could be similar in this instance as well. And in that case it might mean Louis is the one who initiates the kiss, and this is Lestat’s internal “yes, yes!!” reaction to it. But I do suspect he is actually meant to be saying it aloud.

With the em dash at the end of it, the very last line could have been meant to continue: "but was now ______" was now...something. But considering she wrote "The End" after it, it seems like it was meant to be a final statement, so that is why I added the missing words I chose in my edited clean version.

Although this conversation is very different from the one we get in the final version of Atlantis, I do still see elements of it in the book's scene:

Louis's line "I can’t live without you! I swear, you wander off on me again, I …" became "so I'll come. And when you tire of me and want me gone, I'll hate you of course."

They still kiss, really kiss. In the book, it is moved to before their conversation, when Lestat first sees Louis in their Rue Royal flat, wearing the new clothes he ordered for him and Louis says, "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" and Lestat is so shocked, he's unable to respond.

They do still discuss Amel in the book version, in much more depth than he is mentioned here. Louis having never heard Amel's voice in his own head remains consistent. 

They do still go walking around the streets of the Garden District, though it happens after the conversation, not during it. Lestat does say they talked for hours during that walk, but about Amel and what's been happening to Lestat as Prince. Not about themselves or their past. 

MY THOUGHTS!

The confirmation here that Lestat never tasted Louis's blood before their new marriage begins in Atlantis is one of the most amazing parts to me, when combined with the offhand way that Lestat mentions what Louis's vampire blood tastes like in Blood Communion. Even though the final version of Atlantis never shows us Lestat drinking Louis's blood (either forcefully like this scene, or consensually in other ways), the mention in Blood Communion does confirm that it DOES happen off the page at some point during the years between Atlantis chapter 4 and the beginning of Blood Communion. 

We know that Louis drank much of Lestat's blood at the end of Merrick, and this was his first time doing it because we were told in previous books how much he resisted his powers being increased by drinking ANY other vampire's blood. It is nice to have it confirmed that Lestat never bit Louis or drank any of his blood in return either before or after Merrick. But now, after Lestat becomes Prince, this is now a new element to their relationship. It makes me consider more strongly that Anne perhaps meant to imply that they then for the first time began to engage in blood sharing the same romantic way Lestat did with Akasha in Queen of the Damned, and then in the even more explicit way she shows us with Rhoshamandes and Benedict in Prince Lestat. 

I don't take all Anne wrote in her diaries as canon. It is clear that much of what she wrote there were spitball ideas that she later chose to absolutely reject (as opposed to deciding they were true but she just didn't mention them in the books). But I do not see anything in this scene that the final versions of the books contradict. So even though this scene didn't actually happen in canon, we can believe that the feelings and emotions that drive this scene are still canon. And I love that for us 🥰

I have cross-posted this on ao3 to give us a good place to talk back and forth to each other about it in the comments section there. Reblog and reply to this post as much as you like, but if you want to have some conversations and share your own thoughts on what she wrote, ao3 will give us a much more organized place to do it, where other people will be able to easily find and read your meta as well.

[firstofficerwiggles]

A Beskar Valentine

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: Just lots of fluff with a little kissing. Also Din being a bit clueless when it comes to romance.

Author’s note: Happy Valentine’s Day, my darlings! I thought you’d all enjoy some fluffy Valentine’s day fun with Din. Whether you love this day or despise it, just know that Din adores you! 

“I brought you a new rock.”

You turn around from the shelf you were just reorganizing to see your favorite customer, Nevarro’s favorite Mandalorian, Din Djarin. You’re about to thank him, when a loud coo breaks in.

“We brought you a new rock,” Din corrects himself, as his little green baby wants you to know that he was also part of the mission. Not that you think finding a pretty rock for you was the mission, but it’s so nice that Din thinks about you when he’s away.

“Thank you so much, to both of you,” you reply with a smile and a pat on the head for little Grogu, “I’m excited to add it to my collection.”

Din has been bringing you rocks from his travels for a few years now. It started when he was a bounty hunter. Whenever he was on Nevarro, he would stop by your shop, a sort-of general store, and buy different supplies. You didn’t think he’d ever taken much notice of you, he barely even spoke to you, but one day after you gave him his bundle of goods, he placed a shiny red stone in your hand.

“I found this on Mustafar, bounty fell right next to it, I thought you’d like another one for your shelf,” he had told you as he pointed to the display shelf next to the desk where your register was located. 

There was a small pink rock there, one that you’d found on a walk one day. You’d placed it there because it was pretty. Rather bemused, you placed the new red rock next to the pink one. 

“Thank you very much,” you replied, smiling at the mysterious helmeted man. 

He simply nodded and ever since then, he’d shown up from time to time with a new and interesting rock for you. You like to say he’s your friend, even if most of your encounters have just been right here in the shop. There were a few times he asked you to go on a walk with him, which you gladly did. You had hoped those walks might turn into something more, but it seems it wasn’t in the stars. Instead Din has been rather occupied with saving his son as well as the rest of the galaxy from evil, or at least that’s how you like to think of it. 

You look at the new rock he’s placed in your hands; it’s very shiny, a bright grey, almost silver and shaped like a heart. 

“It’s beautiful, Din, I love it,” you tell him, your voice soft. 

You look at your rock shelf, adorned with all the tokens he’s gifted you. You practically melt, out of all the pretty stones he’s brought you, this new one looks the most romantic. You try not to think too much into it, but still, your own heart likes to hope.

“I thought it looked a bit like beskar,” he comments in a thoughtful voice. He tips his helmet at you in what you’ve determined is his ‘thinking expression’.

“It does, a beskar heart, it’s perfect for you,” you reply, finding a special place for it on the shelf, right in the middle where it stands out.

“I thought you’d like it,” he states, “It came from Mandalore.”

“That’s incredible,” you say, touching the rock again, “I heard there was quite a battle there. I’m glad you’re alright, you and the little one. I have to admit I was worried for you when you left last time.”

Not to be too dramatic, but you thought you might never see him again. You figured the fighting would be fierce after seeing the way the Mandalorians fought off the pirates on Navarro. And although you had faith in Din as a fighter, you sort of figured he’d make Mandalore his home.

“You’re sweet to be worried about me,” Din says, “But as you can see, we’re back home no worse for the wear.”

“Home?” you can’t hide the note of hope in your voice.

“Yes, Magistrate Karga granted me a nice track of land, and we have a home there now,” he explains proudly, “I’d like to invite you to come see it, maybe the day after tomorrow?” He suggests. You can’t be sure but he almost sounds a touch nervous as he asks.

“I’d love to come see your new home,” you respond eagerly. 

“Good, we’ll pick you up in the speeder at 5 in the evening,” Din says, knowing exactly when you usually close up the shop.  

With reassurances that you’ll see them soon, you wrap up a few treats for Grogu and Din to enjoy at home and you wave to them as they head off.

“I think she really liked the rock, buddy,” Din says to Grogu as they walk home. “And soon she’ll get to see the nice home we’ve made. I really hope she likes it.” 

Din has planned his entire home with exactly two people in mind, his magical son, Grogu and you, his sweetheart. He’s been courting you for years now, and it’s about time he made you an official offer of marriage. He’s wanted to ask you to be his riduur for a while, but the timing was always off. But now, he has a home and a new job with the Republic, he knows he can be a good and supportive husband to you.

Grogu is babbling at him, he points towards the front yard of the home as they arrive.

“Yes, buddy, I’m sure she’ll enjoy playing with you and seeing your frog pond too,” Din tells him. He notices that Grogu has already managed to open the package of treats you gave them.

Din laughs, “She knows your favorite foods already, I’d say if either of us has the luck to charm her, you’re our best bet.”

Din spends the next day putting all the finishing touches on the house. He wants it all to look its absolute best for your visit. Grogu has been helping too. He’s drawn several pictures that are now hanging up all around the walls. There might be a couple that were drawn directly on the wall, but Grogu was so proud of them that Din didn’t have the heart to scold him. Instead he dropped a kiss on Grogu’s head and told him,

“You’re quite the artist, son.”

At 5 on the dot, Din’s speeder pulls up to your door. Grogu is strapped into a baby seat in the backseat, waving at you merrily. Din hops out so that he can help you in, and you’re impressed once again by how much of a gentleman he always is. 

“What’s all this?” he asks as he sees your arms filled with packages.

“Oh a few housewarming gifts,” you say with a smile, “And a present for the baby.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Din replies, sincerely. 

The drive to his land is brief and Din points out various landmarks and sights on the way. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was trying to impress you. When you pull up in front of his house, the sun is just starting to set, turning his home a lovely golden color. You could not have a better introduction to the place. It looks cozy and welcoming, exactly the type of house you wish you could have instead of the cramped apartment above your shop. 

“Oh Din, it’s charming,” you breath out your praise in a happy sigh. 

“I’m pleased you think so,” Din responds, his voice a bit gruffer than usual. He clears his throat, “Let me show you around.”

With a hand at the small of your back, Din guides you around his new house. Grogu toddles ahead pointing out different things and sometimes floating them towards you with a wave of his hand. You know he has powers, but seeing them in action makes you gasp a few times. 

“Everything looks so nice, you’ve both made a lovely home,” you tell them as you walk through the rooms. 

Din insists on showing you every little thing about the house, asking your opinion and seeming genuinely interested in hearing it. 

“And now it’s time for my favorite part, the backyard,” Din says with a small flourish as he throws the back door open and reveals a nice garden that has recently been planted. There are a few hearty flowering plants and a little vegetable and herb garden too. There is also a small stone path leading to the middle where there is a pretty mosaic of different colored rocks with several red colored stones making a heart. There are a couple lounge chairs there too, making it a nice place to sit and enjoy the fresh air.

Grogu tugs at your leg, urging you forward to see all the pretty rocks.

“Patu!” he says, sounding proud and happy, at least from your perspective. 

“It’s lovely, Grogu, very pretty,” you reply encouragingly and the baby babbles more at you.

“He and I want to know if you like your rock garden? We both worked on it together,” Din tells you. 

“What? My rock garden? You- you made this for me?” You are utterly stunned to hear this.

“Yes, we both wanted a special place for you,” Din replies. You can’t see his face of course but you could swear he must be smiling.

“Why? I don’t understand,” you tell him looking perplexed. You can’t fathom why he would make something like this for you at his house.

“Well, you’re my sweetheart, and I know I haven’t made you a formal offer, but after about four years of courting, I’m hoping that someday soon this will be your house too,” Din sounds sweet and hopeful. 

You stare at Din with your mouth opened in pure shock. You don’t have any idea how to respond to that. Your mind is reeling. The word sweetheart keeps repeating in your head on a loop. You blink at him and finally manage to respond,

“I’m sorry, you- you’re courting me? Din, maybe you could have told me you were courting me?” Your voice comes out sounding high-pitched and quite incredulous. 

Din makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like “oops.”

You keep going, your shock making you babble,

“Don’t get me wrong, Din, I’m thrilled that you think of me as your sweetheart and it makes me swoon that all this time you’ve thought of me like that, I’ve always liked you so much and hoped we could be more someday, but I never realized, I just didn’t know.” 

Din steps close to you, his hand reaches out to cup your cheek. The gesture calms you down and you stare into the dark T of his visor, hoping you’re looking into his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I thought it was obvious, that’s why I was always bringing you the rocks and making sure to come see you,” he sounds a bit sheepish, “I’m not the best at romance and I guess I should have made it a lot clearer.”

You let out a soft sigh, “It would have been nice to know my feelings weren’t one-sided all this time.” You tilt your head and look at him with a slightly exasperated smile. 

“But you do have feelings for me,” Din points out, sounding a touch smug.

“I do, you handsome, infuriating man,” you reply with a laugh.

“And I have feelings for you, romantic, affectionate feelings,” he clarifies unnecessarily at this point. He pulls you closer, dipping his head so that the crown of his helmet touches your forehead.

“What am I going to do with you, Din Djarin?” you ask, marveling at this turn of events.

“I think you should kiss me, so that way you really know how I feel,” Din suggests.

As you watch him with wide eyes, Din tips his helmet up just enough to reveal his full lips and his rather scruffy jaw. You gravitate towards him automatically and your lips meet his in a sweet and tender kiss. He holds you close and gently explores your mouth with his, kissing you as if he’s been dreaming of it for ages. Something he confirms when you eventually pull away.

“If only you knew how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Din says. 

“Probably as long as I have,” you tell him, beaming at him and leaning in for one more precious kiss. 

You hug the little guy close and kiss his cheeks. Grogu responds with a happy giggle as he cuddles up to you. He turns to Din, holding out his hand and babbling happily. 

A tug at yours and Din’s legs have you cutting the kiss short as someone is tired of being ignored. Din scoops little Grogu up in his big hand. The baby immediately lunges for you, his little arms thrown open and a wide smile on his face.

“I guess someone else wants kisses too?” you ask with a giggle. 

“Alright, buddy, I’ll ask her,” Din says, patting Grogu’s head. He looks at you, “Well, what do you say? Will you be our sweetheart and come spend as much time as possible here in your rock garden with us?” 

“I’d love nothing more,” you tell him. You look at the garden again, “Who would have thought a rock would lead to all this?”

“I always knew it would,” Din replies. 

Thank you so much for reading!!!

Tag list: @boomtowngirl @kavecika @becks-things @mysticalgalaxysalad @catsnkooks @starlightrows @tailorvizsla @bitchin-beskar @lilhawkeye3 @acourtofsnakes @grogusmum @buzzybeebee @deannie13 @ladykatakuri @noodlesfics @the-good-shittt @everythingyouwanted @jewfro24 @vaderthepotater @pinkiemme @laichka @myeternalsin @kazthedestroyer @writeforfandoms @trekkingaroundasgard @beskarmermaid @flightlessangelwings @mandoloriancookie @theofficialbugs @heyitsaloy

[poppitron360]

Guys… it’s finally here.

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

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

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

Word count: 15,580!!

“Violets and Marigolds”

Married Valgrace AU

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

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

They would always have each other.

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

Jason sat down in front of the interviewer.

“Jason Valdez.”

“That’s my name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But he did launch the attack?”

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

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

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

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

“How was your day?”

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

“Don’t overwork yourself, amorsito.”

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

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

“Don’t play with that,” Jason signed.

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

“What’s up?” He said in English.

“It’s nothing,” Leo replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you… do you want kids, Jason?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know, Jason…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jason Valdez, actually. I got married.”

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

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

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

“Really? Are you sure?”

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

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

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

“That’s… that’s great to hear.”

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

“Gah!”

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

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

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

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

“Mi alma, you’re shaking.”

“…It’s cold.”

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

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

“Did you have another flashback?” Jason asked.

“I… I…”

“The night you died?”

Leo nodded, his breathing was still choked and choppy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leo?” Jason asked, after a while.

“Hmm?”

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

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

“Is it just that night, or…”

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

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

“Talk to me, bello.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, mi luna?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No…”

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

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

“I love you too, amour mio.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sat down at his desk and sighed.

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

Students began to drip in.

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

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

“Yes. Yes it is.”

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

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

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

“LEONIDAS JAVIER VALDEZ!”

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

“DON’T YOU AMORSITO ME!! COME HERE!”

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

“COME. HERE.”

Jason heard groaning, and Leo appeared in the door.

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

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

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

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

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

"No. Why would he do that?"

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

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

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

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

Leo shrugged again.

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

Leo had turned away.

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

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

“This needs to be tidied up.”

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

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

“TIDY. NOW.”

“Umm… No hablo ingles.” Leo said.

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

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

“What are you building, anyway?”

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

“…and you can make that?”

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

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

“S’okay, bello. I forgive you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason tried to pull himself back to the present.

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

A blur of memories, flashes of swords and fighting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he thought about Leo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“GO!” He yelled, “Remember!”

Remember what it’s like to be human.

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

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

The phone rang twice before Leo picked up.

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

“H-… H-help…” Jason repeated.

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

“I… I need…”

Jason heard panicked clattering over the phone.

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

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

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

“Y-yes. Okay.”

“Love you. See you in ten.”

“Love you.”

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

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

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

But flashbacks and nightmares of that fight still haunted him.

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

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

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

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

"So..." Leo began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds fun. Tell me more.”

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

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

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

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

Jason nodded, drowsily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… I don’t know…” Jason admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s my favourite sister-in-law?”

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

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

“When did McLean get here?” Thalia asked.

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

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

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

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

Except there was one slight problem-

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought we could try camping!”

“Leo, do we own a tent?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Piper had got Thalia a new leather jacket.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason gave her a tight, one-armed hug.

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

“Oh?”

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

“Good news?” Leo asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I married that man,” Jason reminded Thalia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm…You okay?” Leo mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s horrible!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“Hey, hermoso?”

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

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

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

“What, like, Fernando Grace or something?”

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

“So… Grace-Valdez? Or… Valdez-Grace?”

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

“Well… how about just Jason Valdez?”

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

“Leo, I’m serious.”

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

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

“A bitch.”

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

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

“Oh Jason! Of course! If you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Jason said, reaching out and taking both Leo’s hands in his, “I am sure.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [Okay, so I’ve hit my limit for pictures per posts, so I can’t use any more of those cool page dividers I made, so we’ll have to just pretend ;)] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason walked into his office the first day back from Winter Break.

He sat down in his office chair, and booted up the PC monitor. While he was waiting for it to load, he sat back and surveyed everything on his desk. This was his morning ritual: count your blessings, you have a lot more than you used to.

His eyes fixed on a photograph. Him and Leo at the altar on their wedding day.

Thalia stood to the left in her Best Man’s suit. Percy, Nico, Will, and Reyna had all been groomsmen. Piper stood to Leo’s right as his Maid of Honour. Frank had refused to wear the bridesmaid’s dress that Leo had picked out, and instead settled for a dark blue tux that really did kind of suit him. He stood beside Hazel, just behind Piper. The entire Hephaestus cabin had been the bridal party (little Harley had been a very cute flower boy). Even Hephaestus himself was there, and had agreed to walk Leo down the aisle. Jupiter hadn’t shown. Figures. Jason had to admit that he’d hoped his father would be there, but it was wishful thinking. He didn’t dwell on it though- that day had been the happiest day of his life, he wasn’t going to let his deadbeat daddy ruin it for him.

They were married in June- the sacred month dedicated to Juno. In Roman times, this was meant to be good luck and a blessing on your marriage. While both Jason and Leo had a… complicated relationship with the goddess, they tried their best to keep things civil for the sake of the special day.

Jason had worn a traditional Roman toga. It was white with gold embroidery. Leo had, of course, designed that as well. He was amazing with a sewing machine.

Leo wore a well-fitted tuxedo. The fabric was enchanted to flicker red and gold- with flashes of white and blue, like hot flames. He called it “girl-on-fire core”. It was lined with dragon hide on the inside, making it fireproof.

Wreaths of violets and marigolds adorned the wedding arch. Jason held Leo’s calloused hands in his own, feeling the heat coming off of them in waves, like holding a mug of hot chocolate on a cold Christmas day.

Aphrodite stood next to them under the arch, officiating the wedding.

“Do you, Jason Grace, take Leonidas-“

Leo coughed.

“… Leo Valdez, to be your husband- wed in both mortal law and in the eyes of the gods? Do you, in front of all the people gathered here today, pledge to be true and devoted to him, to have and to hold for eternity? From this day forward, do you vow to be with him, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, forever? In good times and bad, in sickness and in health, do you promise to love and honor him all the days of your life and beyond, never to part, even in death?”

Jason gripped Leo’s hands in his. He knew that the goddess Aphrodite was right next to him, but honestly? He didn’t give a flying fuck about her. And that was coming from the Flying Fuck himself. All he could look at was Leo. Leo was the most beautiful person in that room. He knew that would definitely displease the goddess, but Jason had given his whole life trying to serve the will of the gods. Now, he was creating a new life. With the phenomenal man in front of him.

Jason felt Leo’s fingers tapping against Jason’s palms where their hands were grasped. A familiar rhythm that Jason knew well. Two short taps. Short tap, long tap, two short taps. Three long taps. Three short taps and a long tap. Tap. Long tap, short tap, long tap, long tap. Three long taps. Two short taps, one long tap.

Jason grinned.

“I do.”

Maybe Aphrodite smiled then, Jason didn’t know. He was lost in Leo’s deep eyes, looking at him and him only.

“I really, really do.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

“Shit!” Jason whispered, as the fork fell to the ground with a loud clatter, “Shhh!” He told the fork, which probably didn’t help.

Leo was asleep on the in the living-room. He’d had another nightmare and had woken up in flames, scorching the duvet. After much consolation that no, Jason had not been hurt in the fire and that yes, it was just a dream, he had finally passed out curled in Jason’s arms, watching Frozen II on the sofa. That was at 5am.

It was now midday and Leo was still asleep. It was his day off, so Jason was currently trying to cook his husband breakfast. There was just one small issue…

Jason couldn’t cook.

He fussed about in their little kitchenette that led off their open-plan living/dining space, a Stand-Up Comedy Special on in the background, the volume down low so as not to wake Leo. He’d somehow managed to burn the avocado, meanwhile the hash-browns were still frozen cold in the middle. He was beginning to get super frustrated with this breakfast burrito. Why couldn’t he have just made cereal instead? But he wanted to do something nice for Leo, and thank him for all the times Leo had cooked.

“Fry bacon over medium heat until crispy,” Jason muttered to himself. As soon as he set the skillet down, the outlets sparked, causing the induction hob to short-circuit, the digital display blinking out. Jason tried several times, but it refused to switch back on. “Fine, be that way!” Jason snapped at the hob.

He didn’t really understand why Leo couldn’t just eat the bacon raw. Jason had been raised by wolves after all- he’d done it loads of times and had only gotten sick twice. But Leo loved food, especially good food. It reminded him of home, of his mother, and family gatherings where everyone all sat around the table good-naturedly, united by the meal enough to not yell at each other. Those mealtimes were the only happy memories Leo had of the family that had kicked him out on the streets and ruined his life. It was safe to say the other Valdezes had not been present at their wedding.

Jason thought back to his own upbringing. How his mom had been so drunk and zonked out that she’d forget to feed him and Thalia. Jason had been so hungry, he’d tried to eat a stapler. He knew Leo had had similar experiences on the streets, and, while Leo had never admitted it, that was probably one of the reasons why he was so short and skinny.

He’d gained a lot of weight since Jason had first seen him on that bus, which Jason was proud of. He imagined that he’d been even thinner before. He was glad to see Leo getting better, but part of him was still sad to see the damage it had done.

Jason wished he could cook. Maybe it was some primal wolf urge to look out for the runt of the litter, but also food was a comfort for Leo, and cooking was a love language to him. He wanted more than anything to make him good meals, see his face light up when he made him something.

“I’m not gonna fuck this up this time,” Jason muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of Leo’s proud expression when he showed off his culinary creation kept him going. He decided to light a small fire over the miniature brasier they kept on the countertop for offerings (scraped a bit of bacon and some sliced tomato into it, praying to Edesia, Roman goddess of Banquets for good luck) and decided to fry the bacon the old fashioned way.

Leo woke up at 1pm (Jason was glad he’d gotten at least the recommended eight hours of sleep). Jason immediately set the plate of burritos down on the coffee table in front of him, grinning eagerly.

Leo reached out and took the burrito, looking perplexed. He examined its contents, “You- you made this?”

“Yup.”

“You cooked?”

“Sure did.”

Leo glanced back at their kitchenette, as if checking for explosion marks. He sniffed the tortilla, cautiously. Jason sat on the edge of the armchair next to him, bouncing up and down a little on the cushion. He could almost imagine his tail wagging in anticipation.

Leo bit into the wrap, and his face lit up. “This is actually not bad! You’re getting better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, querido. Es muy bueno. You can make this for me again.”

Jason beamed, proud of himself.

“Did you spend all morning on this?”

“I did. I wanted to do something special to cheer you up. I’m glad you like it.”

Leo took another bite. “Oh what a joy to wake up to!” He said, “You really are the best Husband ever.”

“I can’t be,” Jason said, “You exist.”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

As the students filed out of the lecture hall, Jason turned and saw Leo leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in his usual suspenders and tool belt, this time over a black button-up shirt. A clean one, which was unlike Leo. He looked surprisingly dashing with his freshly-washed hair and his brown Doc Martens. Several of Jason’s students had stopped to stare at him, whispering behind their hands. Jason watched as Leo produced a bouquet of violets and marigolds from the back pocket of his tool belt.

Jason walked forward and accepted them, then kissed him on the cheek.

“What’s the occasion, mi cielo?” Jason asked.

“No occasion,” Leo said, “I just love you.”

Jason spied a few of his students taking pictures on their phones.

“You better not be posting those online,” Jason told them, “If I get home to find a hoard of monsters raiding our apartment you’re all getting Ds, understand?”

They nodded. He turned back to Leo.

“There’s still some work I’ve gotta finish up,” Jason whispered.

“Me too,” Leo whispered back, “But… can we talk? Later?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Jason said. He could feel himself blushing. His students were staring at them, giggling.

Leo noticed them too. He switched to American Sign Language.

“Let’s go to that restaurant we like. I’ll meet you there at 8pm.”

“Fancy!” Jason signed, “Are you sure this isn’t a special occasion?”

Leo smiled. “I just wanna take you out! I have money, I’m allowed to take my husband out on a date! Just don’t be late. I’ll see you there.”

He gave Jason another peck on the cheek. “I gotta run,” He said, “But talk later, okay?”

“Okay!” Jason called, as Leo rushed off.

Jason stood there, agape, for a few seconds, before the excited whispers from the small crowd of students snapped him out of it.

“Gods, I hope that was his husband.” “He’s so skinny!” “I thought children of Hephaestus were supposed to be huge!” “And ugly, but he was kinda cute.” “No, guys, did you see he’s got, like, five million photos of him on his desk-“

Jason cleared his throat, and they stopped abruptly, “Yes, if you’re curious, that was Mr Valdez. No, I will not be taking further questions at this time. Umm… Class dismissed.”

The gaggle of students left, dragging their feet and sneaking glances back at Jason, talking in hushed whispers.

A little dazed, he made his way up to his office and walked inside. Jason realised he was still holding the bouquet of flowers Leo had given him. He walked over to his desk, emptied his half-drunk cup of tea, washed the mug out and filled it up with water (Leo often teased him for drinking tea. He said it made him look like a British Grandpa. But Jason liked it). He plopped the flowers in it, and sat down at his desk to grade papers.

The sun had set in the early january hours when he heard a faint rap on his door. He looked up. Standing nervously in the doorway was one of his quieter students, Joshua.

“Umm… Professor Valdez?” He asked in a small voice.

“What is it, Joshua?”

“Can- can I come in?”

Jason gestured for the kid to sit down in the chair facing his desk.

“I was- I was working on a project for my Greek Studies course, and we had to write about one difference between Roman and Greek society…”

“Yes…?”

“Well, I wanted to write about how Greeks viewed queer identity compared to the Romans? Because they, like, had fundamentally different views on gender and sexuality and it’s super interesting to me. I know you’re a Roman History professor but you’re also one of the only queer teachers I know, and you’re also just a really good teacher in general… I was wondering if you could help me?”

Jason signalled for him to shuffle over to his side of the desk. He pulled up a few websites on his computer, and began talk about examples of different Greek art that depicted men-loving-men relationships.

They talked for a while, but then Joshua interrupted, pointing to one of the photos on Jason’s desk. “Is that your husband?”

Jason picked up the picture and smiled, “Yes. That’s us at a wedding we went to last spring.” It had been Hazel and Frank’s wedding.

“Woah…” he whispered. He paused, then said, “You know, I’ve always looked up to you. I grew up hearing stories about the Seven demigods who sailed on the Argo II. You’re all huge inspirations.”

Jason nodded at the photograph, “I think so too, that’s why I married one.”

“What was it like… all those months sailing, facing all those terrible monsters?”

Jason remembered back to all those times he’d found Leo crying in the engine room, shivering after a particularly viscous monster attack, a nightmare, or another dirt-formed vision of Gaea. Those tearful nights spent consoling him.

“It… it was hard, especially seeing as we were just teenagers. But at least we had each other.”

Joshua looked at the Rubik’s cube with its self-shuffling sides, “Woah. Did he get you that?”

“He made it, actually. He is one of the best mechanics in the western hemisphere, after all.“

Jason picked it up, fondly, turning it over in his fingers.

The conversation carried on, drifting (as all good conversations do) to Sappho and her poetry. It wasn’t until Jason checked the clock that he realised the time.

“Shit, I gotta meet the Mister for dinner in fifteen minutes. Sorry, Joshua.”

He scribbled down the titles of a few books the kid could borrow from the library, and shouldered his bag. Joshua thanked him and left.

Jason picked up his keys and went to turn off the light. Before he left, he turned and looked at the flowers in the cup. Violets and marigolds. The same flowers they’d had at their wedding. Purple and orange, like the colours of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Leo had an appreciation for a good metaphor.

He turned out the light and left his office, locking the door behind him.

They were one of the first Greco-Roman couples to get married since the camps discovered each other. Their wedding had been a celebration of the merging of both sides. It was becoming more and more commonplace now, but they were in the early stages of creating new traditions between these partnerships.

Jason had always tried to do things a little differently. He’d never liked it when he was told he had to uphold all these “Roman Values” in order to be perfect. He didn’t want to have to fit in a mould. That’s one of the countless reasons why he loved Leo so much. Leo wasn’t perfect. He didn’t try to be. He faked smiles and confidence for survival, but he never stopped being so unapologetically himself while doing it. And when Jason was around him, he couldn’t care less about what people thought he should be. Leo made him a better person because of that.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason thought back to their wedding day again.

He remembered their first dance, to the song “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman. Jason stumbled over his feet a little as they danced. Later that night, Leo had torn up the dance floor doing the Macarena. Jason wondered how Leo had managed to go all night without bursting into flames.

Much parties and drinking ensued. Jason was swamped with guests, congratulating him. He made polite conversation with them all, and was so distracted he didn’t even realise that Leo had left the room.

He felt a quick surge of panic as he searched for him, but it soon subsided when he saw Leo out on the balcony of the wedding venue, looking out at the city. He’d taken off his jacket and it was folded on the rail next to him.

The relief gave way to concern, though, when he saw that Leo was on fire.

Jason walked over to him and leaned on the balcony railing next to him, just out of reach of the flames, “Long day?” He asked, trying not to show the worry in his voice.

“Good day,” Leo replied, smiling at him. Jason instantly relaxed.

“Sorry I left- just had to get away from the crowds and cool off,” Leo nodded at the suit jacket, flames licking his face, “That’s the last time I wear something with heat-suppressing polymers. I had to, for safety and all, but man… it was so stuffy. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” Leo’s chest crackled quietly with the fire in the cool evening air, “Anyway, I needed to decompress. Let some of it out. “

“Understandable. It’s an emotional night.”

“I’m just so incredibly happy, Jason,” Leo said, “It’s hard to keep contained.”

Looking at Leo, Jason felt little zzzts of electricity buzzing through his hair. Yeah, he understood.

“Socialisation is exhausting,” Leo admitted, “Especially when you’re masking. Especially at an intense event like this. But don’t think I’m upset. I’m not. Just a little… overstimulated.”

Jason smiled, “I understand. Take all the time you need. Soon, though, we’ll be off on our honeymoon. Just you and I, alone together.”

Leo closed his eyes at the pleasure of the thought, “That would be nice.”

“Gods, I’m eager to get out of this toga. It’s itchy as heck.”

They exchanged a quick side-eye.

Jason sidled a little closer, careful to keep the fabric of his clothes out of reach of the flames. “I wish I could kiss you,” he said, frowning at the red fire brushing against Leo’s cheek.

“Hold your pegasi, lightning boy! We’re spending the rest of our lives together- there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to kiss me, don’t you worry.”

“I guess you’re right,” Jason replied.

Leo softened, “Your company’s enough for me, amor mio. That’s all I need.”

Jason looked back at the open doorway, at the party in the venue behind them. “Well I should probably get back in there. They’ll be wondering where we are. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re constipated.”

“How very dignified of you.”

Jason looked into Leo’s eyes, his brown irises turning orange in the glittering fire that wreathed his face, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jason went back into the building, looking back at his husband and smiling. Then he proceeded to rejoin the party.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Leo was waiting for him outside the restaurant. He now wore a black suit jacket over his black shirt and suspenders. Jason knew that it had been stolen from his wardrobe. Leo didn’t own many suits.

He’d chosen a table for two under the awning outside the restaurant. Jason kissed him on the cheek when he saw him and sat down across from him. A waitress came over and took their drinks order.

“Umm… Tea, please. Earl Grey.”

“Earl Grey?” Leo said, “That even sounds like a British Grandpa.”

Jason ignored him, “Milk, two sugars please.”

“Hey, whatever floats your trireme, man. And can I have the umm… the umm…” Leo clicked his fingers and scrunched up his face in concentration, “Come on, English!! The… frothy… cow… juice…”

“The what?”

Leo mimed a complicated charade of drinking a certain beverage, which Jason attempted to decipher.

“A… milkshake?”

Leo snapped his fingers and pointed at Jason, “Yes. That. See? I knew I married you for a reason.”

Jason shook his head in disbelief, “I apologise for… whatever that was,” He said to the waitress, “English isn’t his first language.”

“Shut up Valdez," Leo said.

Jason smiled.

The waitress flashed them her customer-service grin and left with their orders. Jason turned to Leo, his perfect Leo, sitting there across the restaurant table just looking perfect. Jason beamed at him.

"What?" Leo asked, upon seeing the cheesy expression on Jason's face.

"Nothing..." Jason said, "So what is it you wanted to talk about?"

Leo ran his hands through his hair. Even after all these years, he still knew how to take the breath out of Jason’s lungs.

“Umm… well, I was thinking hard about that conversation we had a couple months ago, I just haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since…”

“Leo, we’ve had a lot of conversations in the last couple months-“

“The one about having kids! I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes…?” Jason said, dreading what might come next.

“And I’ve decided,” Leo said, twisting the ring around his finger.

Jason held his breath.

“I wanna do it. I want to start a family. At some point. In the future. Not right now, but at some point.”

Jason actually jumped up from his seat. He hugged Leo.

“Oh, Leo, that’s so good to hear!!!”

“Yeah, well… I love you. And I guess, as the son of the God of Creation… I want to create something. With you. Something more than just a Roomba,” he sighed, “I’m not good with organic life forms, but that’s what we do, isn’t it? We face challenges together. We don’t always do things in our comfort zone, but ultimately we risk it for what it’s worth at the end… I dunno, I’m getting cheesy.”

Jason smiled, “I love your cheesiness, Leo.”

Just then, the waitress came back with their drinks and took their dinner orders. Once she left, Jason turned back to Leo.

“You know,” Jason joked, “Since I actually didn’t die fighting Caligula, I’ve always wondered what the Sibyl meant by I will “three letters, starts with D”. I’m guessing, since we re-united after the fight it meant things would eventually lead to “Dad”.”

“Or you’ve been dead this whole time, and this is a delusional Elysium dream,” Leo said in a monotone voice.

“Wh-what?” Jason hurriedly scanned Leo’s face for any sign of a joke, but for some reason he couldn’t quite meet his eyes. They were distorted somehow, like trying to see a monster through the Mist. Fog swirled around the two of them, so Jason lost sight of their surroundings, only Leo’s weirdly blank face. He caught a flash of Leo laughing- a burst between the freakily deadpan expression Leo wore. It was like something had glitched.

Suddenly, the room brightened. They were back in the restaurant, and Leo was looking at him with a curious expression, his brow knotted slightly in concern.

“I didn’t say anything,” Leo said.

“You… You said…” Jason tried to think back to their previous conversation, but his memory of it was somehow distant- like a wound closing from ambrosia.

Leo cocked his head to one side, “You sure you’re alright, Jase?”

Jason blinked, “I’m- I’m fine.” He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. “Long day. Just a little sleep-deprived. Probably hallucinating. What were we talking about, again?”

“Baby names,” Leo reminded him.

“Oh, right.”

“I think Leo Jr is a very strong name for a child,” Leo said, “Imagine, “Leonidas Valdez the Second! Badass Warrior Mechanic!”

“But what if it’s a girl?”

Leo paused for a few seconds, then said “I was thinking… I could name her after my mom?”

Jason frowned, “Names have power though. While I love the sentiment, I don’t think naming your kid after someone who died young is a very good idea.”

Leo sighed, “You’re right.”

“But it’s a lovely thought, though.”

“Yeah…”

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason walked into class the next morning.

“Hey, Professor! How’s your twink?”

“He’s not my-“ Jason began, “Well, yes, he is kind of a twink. And he is mine. What’s your point?”

The students laughed.

Jason turned to the projector screen and began to talk, when a student interrupted him.

“Tell us more about your husband, Professor!”

Jason knew this trap. They were trying to de-rail the lesson, get Jason talking about something else and forget to set the homework. If they thought they were gonna get away with not having to learn about Roman History for half a lesson they were wrong. Jason wasn’t gonna fall for their games and tricks.

But oh! He was a sucker for talking about Leo. As much as he wanted to resist, he found himself sinking into a ramble about his husband’s amazingness.

“I mean, he’s only the best thing to come from Huston, Texas. Like, ever. And that includes Beyoncé.”

The entire lecture hall gave a collective gasp of shock.

“You’re not serious, sir?” A student in the front row whispered.

“I am. And I don’t say that lightly either,” Jason may have been raised by wolves, but even he understood Beyoncé’s reverence. “I very much respect Queen Bey and what she does. You know she’s actually a minor goddess now?”

“Really? The gods made her one?” Another student heckled.

Jason shook his head, “No, not the gods. Much like how the Roman Emperors survived for thousands of years because of how much they were worshipped by their subjects, Beyoncé’s cult following has helped her ascend to goddesshood too.”

“Woah…”

“I’d be surprised if the Eras Tour doesn’t do the same thing for Taylor Swift. My husband loves her. We wanna get tickets, but that would mean our kids will never be able to afford to go to college, so… it’s still open for negotiation.”

A student raised his hand, “What other celebrities became gods from their worship?”

“Well,” Jason said, leaning back on his desk, “Have you ever heard of a band called the Beatles?”

Once the lesson had ended, Jason was approached by one of his students. It was Joshua, the kid he’d helped with homework.

“I- I just wanted to thank you for your help, Professor. On the essay. I got a really high grade and I passed my class!”

Jason grinned, “That’s great to hear! I don’t wanna give too much away but I have a feeling you’ll do very well in this class, too.” He tapped the side of his nose, like he was telling some big secret.

Joshua still looked a little nervous, like he had something more to say but wasn’t sure if he should.

“Is everything alright, Joshua?” Jason asked, giving him his kindest smile.

“It’s just… umm… I wanted to thank you for being my favourite teacher. You’re such an inspiring role model… my- my parents, they d-don’t really like the sort of stuff I’m studying… the sort of stuff I was writing that essay about. They’re traditional, see? All about upholding Good Roman Values. But you, being so open about who you are, and about your husband… from someone as heroic and influential as yourself… it meant a lot to me.”

Before Jason knew what was happening, Joshua gave him a quick, tight hug. “Thank you,” the kid whispered. Then he shouldered his backpack, and left the lecture hall.

Jason may or may not have cried a little.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Jason pushed a button, and a large metal door opened inwards onto Leo’s warehouse. He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing on the hard concrete floor. From the cavernous ceiling hung car engines, machine parts, and large automatons. All around him were cluttered racks, standing shelves, and an assortment of other storage solutions. Jason wove his way through the labyrinthine pathways forged from kicked-aside projects. He was carrying a large take-out bag from the Greek Restaurant across the street from campus. Despite the large open space, there wasn’t much room to walk, so he picked his way apprehensively through the mess, nervous that he might step either on some prized masterpiece, or something explosive.

He spotted Leo’s apprentice, Penny, working the forges in the back of the gigantic space. She was hammering out a sheet of stygian iron, her mousy-blonde hair tied messily out of the way. She wore large welder’s goggles, and oversized Dragon-hide gloves.

He gingerly stepped over machinery and made his way over to her, greeting her with a nod. She stopped hammering, and pushed her goggles onto her head with a gloved finger.

“Where’s your Jedi Master?” Jason asked.

She set her hammer down on a nearby workbench and glanced expectantly at his take-out bag. He reached in, brought out a greasy Tupperware box, un-popped the lid, and handed her one of the dolmades. Her expression didn’t waver, she continued to stare at the bag. Jason rolled his eyes and begrudgingly gave her another one. This seemed to satisfy her. “He’s up on the roof,” she said, popping the stuffed vine leaf into her mouth.

He thanked her, and made his way up the metal spiral staircase that led to the roof.

He found Leo sitting on the roof’s edge, facing away from him. Festus sat next to him on his hind legs, his large metal tail wrapped around him like a cat. They both turned when Jason came up. He walked over to them, patted the dragon’s bronze jaw affectionately, and sat down next to Leo, putting the take-out bag between them. He began to dish out the food. Leo raised an eyebrow at the missing dolmades.

“I had to bribe Penny to tell me where you were,” Jason admitted.

Leo chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. His dark curls bounced in the golden light of the setting sun. “That girl has learned well. Never waste an opportunity to swindle free food.”

“Oh, I see. You taught her that.”

They laughed, kicking their dangling feet off the concrete warehouse walls.

“So how was your day?” Leo asked.

Jason scratched Festus’ chin, absent-mindedly. He thought about Joshua, and about the other kids in his class. He thought about how proud he was of the papers he graded. He thought about the bright young minds. Jason had grown up fighting in the legion. He’d faced untold horrors in order to save the world. So had Leo. And they still were saving it in their own way. By passing his knowledge onto the next generation, he felt safe knowing that the future was in their hands. By teaching his students about demigod life, about Roman History, and also teaching them that it was okay for a tough Roman soldier to love another man, he felt like he was still doing all he could to protect the world, but he’d found a less life-threatening way to do it.

“My day was good,” He told him, “What about yours?”

As Leo talked about his latest commissions, Jason looked around him. He remembered how much Leo had saved up to be able to afford to buy this place. But he needed a place to keep Festus (Terminus had been very particular about where the dragon had been allowed to stay, since he technically counted as a weapon). It had meant their honeymoon was spent in some discount resort in the south of Mexico with a low budget hotel room, drinking cheap wine. Jason wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Leo really did love his machine shop. It had been a dream of his to own one since as long as Jason had known him. He knew that part of that was guilt for burning down the one his mom owned in Texas, that had been in his family for three generations. But Jason could see by the way Leo treated the space that he kept it working to honour his mom. And although Jason had never met Esperanza, he could feel her spirit in the air in this place.

He wondered if she’d be happy for her son that they’d found each other. Jason thought she would. She’d be so proud of Leo- how could she not? Leo was the best thing that had ever happened to Jason. He’d fought tooth and nail to save the world, and now they were living happily in New Rome.

Are we happy? A little voice in the back of Jason’s head said. They still had troubles and hardships ahead of them. Leo still struggled to sleep with the nightmares. Jason still couldn’t say Caligula’s name. People still looked down on Jason for dating the Greek who fired on New Rome. People still gave Jason shit for taking the last name of the man he loved. Queer kids in Jason’s class still struggled to be accepted by their parents. Wars were still happening. Demigods still died. Things might look completely different for them in a few years time. They could be drafted into another fight. They could lose each other. Again.

But they had found their little pocket of peace. The place and time where they could stay. And be happy. Because yes, they were happy.

He sat, side-by side with Leo, looking out at the sunset going from orange to purple to black. He wrapped his arm around his husband’s shoulders. The love of his life. His everything.

He was happy. Despite everything, he was happy. Jason was happy going to work every day, facing whatever there was to be faced, knowing he would come home to Leo at the end.

Jason looked into Leo’s eyes. Leo’s sparkling, dazzling eyes. The freshly-born stars reflected in them as the sky darkened to night. He watched them twinkle in those pupils as they shifted, busily scanning the sky for gods know what. He knew that he was happy, too. They had each other.

Sometimes the fates could be kind that way.

Jason sat on the warehouse roof, watching the stars come out. And he knew, right then and there, that whatever happened, everything was gonna be okay.

- ⚡️ - 💍 - 🔥 - [ L+J] - 🔥 - 💍 - ⚡️ -

Fuuuucckkk this took me ages to write but ohhh my gods-

This is now my longest fic ever and I’ve been obsessed with it for months.

Footnotes/Things I wanna talk about:

One day I realised “Hey, wait! I can make them get married!” And two months and 15K words later (I started writing this on Jason’s bday) here we are.

Penny, Leo’s apprentice- would you wanna see more from her? I know fics with ocs don’t do as well, but it will still mostly focus on Valgrace. I love the idea of talking about my otps from an outsider POV, I can expand on more lore for this universe, and be able to show them just being adorable and cute and fluffy together. Maybe while Leo and Jason are thinking more seriously about kids, Leo tries out his fatherly chops on his apprentice?

No we are not gonna mention Jason’s little “glitch in the matrix” moment back there. Nothing happened, what are you even talking about? [unless you think that would make a good fic to expand upon, I’d be prepared to take a dark route] Just pretend I added that in to explain away any plot-holes.

The “Jason wants to get in touch with his bio family and Leo’s a little sceptical” plot is something I’ve wanted to write about for a while. Particularly as Jason’s whole arc is about finding a place. They’re “The Lost Trio” because each of them are trying to find something. Jason’s trying to find who he is and where he belongs. Leo’s prepared to just settle for any place that won’t shun him for who he is. I fully believe that Leo is perfectly happy just the two of them, whereas Jason’s still on that journey of “what if there’s more of me out there?”. And Leo being Leo, he’d obviously help Jason with that, but he’d remind Jason that he would be loved no matter what, with or without a bio family.

Should I expand on that topic, write a conclusion? I left it a little open-ended and up to the imagination (and bc this fic is already 9k words long as I’m writing this and there are too many plotlines) but it would be something fun to follow up on, maybe giving it it’s own time to properly shine, and get down to the nitty gritty stuff. If the family is good to Jason, Leo would be happy for him but still a little bitter that he never got that chance. If the family is bad to Jason, Jason would struggle with what that means for him (he did a little bit of this in canon when he saw his mom’s ghost in BoO) and Leo would empathise with him, and reassure them that they’re still a family just as them.

I like to cite my sources, so here is the article I found about Ancient Greek wedding traditions in case you’re curious/need inspiration. It was an interesting rabbit-hole.

Also, a lot of this was inspired by @lavenderfairiez’s fic “All I wanted was you” so pls check that out.

Thank you to @xixovart for helping me with the Spanish. I am White As Fuck and British, and I get most of what I know of Latin American culture from In The Heights, so I apologise if I’ve gotten things wrong (I also used google translate for some).

I found I ended up making Jason speak Spanish a lot more than Leo- I feel like Jason is definitely more of an “endearing pet names” kinda guy, wheras Leo is the “fucking ruthless character assassinations” kinda guy. I also have this hc that Jason absolutely LOVES to speak Spanish to Leo, and does it at every opportunity. He thinks of it as “Leo’s language” and adores the fact that he can speak it now, because him and Leo are together, and that makes him so fucking happy.

Jason thinks Leo is just the best thing to ever happen to existence, and I love that.

Lot o’ thoughts about wedding vows, and the theme of promises for Valgrace and PJO in general. I’ve already made a post about it here

Leo is autisic. I feel like that had to be said bc it fuels a lot of my writing choices for this fic. Also I love it. Jason is so accommodating for his needs. They both look after each other and I love that for them.

I have WAY more where that came from. I have a timeline, a backstory, and, like, ten other fic ideas set in that universe. I have AUs of this AU. I have concept art. I have headcanons.

Please let me know what bits of this you enjoyed best, so that I can get a good idea of what to write next.

Page dividers made by me. I spent ages on them and I’m really proud of them so I might reblog with a few close-ups.

Tagging my usual fanfic/Valgrace peeps: @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @imnoturfriend-im-a-swiftie13 @euryvices @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @keefessketchbook @frankzhang-appreciation-posts @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone in the Valgrace community- any hcs or posts that inspired me. You guys are just the best.

[runnning-outof-time]

Hiii K, congrats on your 3.5k! That’s such an amazing milestone 🥳🤩 I’d like to send in the following prompt for John. 17. “How do babies get made.” I felt like this would go very well with John 🤭 Can’t wait to see with what you’ll come up with!

Hi Daisy @peakyltd !! Thanks so much for sending this in!! I was hoping that someone would choose John for this prompt because you’re sooo right - it fits him perfectly!!! I hope you like what I did with this! Also a special thanks to @raincoffeeandfandoms for letting me use the ‘little chimney man’ who brings babies…you’ve helped (Y/N) immensely here! Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k celebration — find more stories here!

That’s Not What Dad Said

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: awkward talk about babies being born, a playful smack with a newspaper

Word Count: 677

Summary: (Y/N) gets a surprise when she and John’s oldest child asks a rather interesting question out of the blue.

The question that six year old James Shelby asked just about made (Y/N) spit the tea she was drinking right back into its cup. “Can you repeat that again, dear?” she prompted the child, silently hoping that she didn’t hear him correctly.

“How do babies get made?” the boy repeated his question. It was the exact question (Y/N) had heard. Word for word.

“Umm, well…” she trailed off, taking a few moments to try and think of how she’d tackle this. The boy was six…he didn’t need to know about the actual process that occurred. “So when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, they have a talk, and in that talk, they decide that they want to have a baby. Then, there’s a man who comes down the chimney after hearing the talk and puts the baby in the mummy’s tummy. In nine months, the baby is born, and that’s how babies are made,” she finished her extravagent story with the exhale of a breath and an unsteady smile, hoping that it worked.

James looked at his mother, not saying anything for a few moments. “That’s not what dad said,” was what he finally said in response.

His statement immediately confused (Y/N). “Wha—what do you mean?” she rushed to ask, her eyes shifting between her son and her husband, who was still reading the newspaper and drinking tea; completely unbothered.

“Dad and uncle Arthur were talking yesterday and uncle Arthur was telling him about a lady he was with and I asked dad what he meant and he said that it’s how babies get ma…”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough. Why don’t you go and get ready for school, hmm?” (Y/N) cut the boy off, already having an idea of where the rest of his statement was going. Her insides were doing flips just thinking about her husband and his brother talking about stuff like that in James’ presence.

“Ok,” James nodded, hopping off of the chair without a second thought. (Y/N) was thankful he didn’t question it and did what she asked. He ran off then, leaving (Y/N) and John alone in the kitchen.

(Y/N) looked over at John, seeing him glance over at her while holding the cup up to his lips. He tried to be nonchalant and revert his eyes to the newspaper, but (Y/N) caught his gaze. “Would you like to tell me why you and Arthur were talking about those types of things with your boy in the room?” she asked him, her eyebrows raising as she spoke.

“We didn’t think he was listenin’ to us,” John tried to defend himself, setting the cup down so that he could look at her.

“He’s six, John. He listens to everything…and then he only remembers the things he isn’t supposed to,” she countered, her frustration shining through her words.

“It was a mistake, love. It won’t happen again,” he assured her, surrendering the argument because it was one he knew he couldn’t win.

“It better not,” (Y/N) emphasized, standing up from her chair to collect the empty dishes from the table. She walked them over to the sink, sitting them in it so that she could do the washing. Before getting to it, she walked back to where John was sitting with the newspaper in his hands. “Let me see that,” she said to him as she stopped at his side, motioning to the paper he was holding.

“Here,” he said, handing the paper over without second thought.

(Y/N) didn’t waste any time. She rolled the paper up and used it to lightly smack John on the back of the head, the sound of the whack from it filling the room.

“Oww!” he exclaimed, turning to look at her with wide eyes as he rubbed the back of his head.

A grin spread across (Y/N)’s face as she locked eyes with her husband. “I meant what I said,” she said then, seriousness present in her voice.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @adaydreamaway08 @kissforvoid @raincoffeeandfandoms @peakyltd @johannelis2302nely @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite @jessimay89 @slaymybreathaway

MASTERLIST

[kurishiri]

02 . . . happy birthday, alfons! ˗ˏˋ🪞´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: none; alfons is actually pretty soft in this chapter!

In my own way, I thought that it was a plan for a wonderful birthday.

However, such plans would soon be riddled with trouble...

Kate: Wh—!? They’re closed...?

When we arrived at the restaurant I had reserved for lunch, there was a sign that said ‘CLOSE.’

Alfons: ‘The restaurant’s owner contracted a sudden illness,’ so they say here, I see. Well, such cases do arise once in a while.

A: How about we visit another restaurant then? Is there anything in particular you’re craving now?

Kate: In that case, we should eat what you want. You’re the birthday boy, after all!

Alfons: Well then... how does the restaurant over there sound?

The restaurant we entered was empty, and the food was immediately brought out after we put in our orders, but...

(...It doesn’t taste that good.)

(No, rather, I would say the flavor is unsavory...)

Alfons: Pfft... hehe... ahha!

A: Just from your expression... I can read your thoughts like a book right now.

A: Hapless though it may be, it would appear this restaurant’s cuisine doesn’t suit your palate?

Kate: ...Do you like this, Alfons?

Alfons: Positively god-awful, I’d say.

Kate: I feel like I should have seen this coming with how there’s not a single person here, even during the lunch hour.

Alfons: The food is thoroughly cooked, and there doesn’t appear to be any suspicious ingredients in it either, and yet...

A: I can’t help but wonder where this profoundly mysterious flavor has snuck in.

While saying this, Alfons slipped off his gloves, and touched the nape of my neck.

Alfons: The food before your eyes is a delicious cuisine from a renowned restaurant.

(Ah... he used his ability on me.)

Albeit nervously, I once again brought the food to my lips.

Kate: Oh, it is delicious...! Thank you so much, Alfons.

Alfons: It was a little more than child’s play to me, so think not much of it. Come now, let’s eat the rest.

Kate: What about you, though, Alfons? I mean, the food’s flavor...

Alfons: The food at the castle is a plethora of things you’d find in five-star restaurants, so I must admit I’m rather taken by this unique change of pace.

Kate: Is that so...

(This birthday celebration isn’t off to a great start, it seems.)

(But, there is still a whole day ahead of us! The next thing will surely be a blast!)

After lunch, we visited an auction venue.

Alfons: Is there an item you wish to bid for, perchance?

Kate: Actually, the auction isn’t being held today, so there’s a magic show in its place.

Alfons: I see... I’m most eager to see it. An actual successful magic show, unlike the ones we are subjected to see back at the castle.

Kate: Hehe, yeah!

K: ...Ah, the host has come up. It looks like it’s going to start soon.

Host: Uhm, to all gathered here today, we deeply apologize for the inconvenience caused with this sudden notice...

Host: ...but the magician we have invited has caught a sudden illness, and as such, we will be holding a special art auction today.

Kate: Ehh...

Alfons: No matter where we go, it seems the aforementioned ‘sudden illness’ follows suit.

Kate: Yes, I wonder if the cold has been going around recently...

(What should we do? Let’s see, what are places Alfons might enjoy... umm...)

Alfons: ...Since we are here already, how about we go and check out some of the art pieces?

Kate: I don’t mind that, but...

K: I’m sure you’re long used to seeing pieces like this, so would it not be boring?

Since Lord Elbert collects beautiful things,

I’m sure Alfons, too, has laid his eyes on many beautiful things as well, from being by his side.

(So to just be looking at these art pieces the auction has now, it probably wouldn’t be very interesting...)

Alfons: Would it not be a most thrilling experience to watch the audience compete with each other with bloodshot eyes from the outside?

A: And even if that does become boring, I have you to play with.

Kate: ...Alright then. Let’s look at the art pieces.

(Alfons is the one who should be getting his birthday celebrated, and yet it seems he’s always extending his consideration to me today.)

Finally, the sun started to set, inviting the night to come.

(To think everything we’ve done has failed... oh, but there are still two things left to celebrate.)

(Even if it’s just these two things, I definitely can’t let them fail...!)

After we returned to the castle and ate dinner, we went to Alfons’ room.

Kate: Alfons, here is the next present!

I gave the box I prepared to Alfons.

Alfons: Is it alright to open it?

Kate: Go ahead! It is food, so just put it on the table before opening it, so it doesn’t drop.

Though a bit corny, inside was a birthday cake.

(It’s a birthday cake with a cat drawn on it... I hope he’s happy.)

I watched him as Alfons took the cake out from the box.

Alfons: This...!

Kate: How is it?

Alfons: ...Kate. May I ask exactly when we got married?

Kate: Eh...?

Alfons showed the cake my way.

There, written on the cake, was neither a cat nor a happy birthday message, but rather...

Kate: ‘Congratulations on your 50 year wedding anniversary’...!?

The cake had words of congratulations to a wedding, with an illustration of an elderly couple I didn’t recognize drawn on it.

Alfons: It would seem the bakery has mixed our cake up with some elderly couple’s cake?

Kate: No way... I’ll need to contact the shop right away...!

Alfons: It would come as a surprise if the shop was still open at this hour though, I would imagine?

A: However, I doubt the cake will be good by the time morning rolls around, so let’s just eat what we have here.

—— Time skip ——

Alfons: I do find it quite unfortunate that I couldn’t eat that treasured cake you had chosen for me...

A: ...but this cake here tasted delicious, too.

Kate: Right...

Alfons: So, Kate? Care to bring out the final present?

Kate: About... that... the cake is the final present. I’m really sorry that everything has been a mess up to the end...

Alfons: Oh, don’t deceive me now. The cake wasn’t supposed to be the last present, yes?

Kate: It’s just that today nothing has been going as planned... so I’m scared that something about the last thing would also go wrong...

Alfons: ...Why, you can blame every happening today on mischance.

A: Not a single thing that happened was your fault.

A: Besides, so what if everything didn’t go as you hoped? It’s the sentiment of wanting to celebrate that matters, no?

Kate: That’s true, but still... I wanted you to have a fun birthday, Alfons.

K: A birthday so fun, it will remain in your memory forever. That kind of birthday.

If it was a birthday fun enough to carve a place in Alfons’ memory, then surely, it would do the same for me.

I wanted us to carve that memory into each other, so that we would never forget this day for eternity.

(But, with all these blunders on his birthday, how could it ever remain in his memory...)

Alfons: A birthday that will remain in my memory... you said?

A: ...If that’s the case, it would be remiss of me not to think today has been going swimmingly as you hoped.

Kate: Eh...?

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full masterlist 🪞🍰 ╱ ko-fi ☕ (30% of proceeds will go to doctors without borders for donations $17↑)

[alfredosauce50]

Night at the Museum

[America x reader]

Rating: M Word count: 5, 887 Synopsis: You and Alfred decide to visit New York’s Museum of Natural History for old time’s sake. In a stroke of bad luck, you two get locked in overnight, unaware and unprepared for the dangers lurking within. It’s where history comes alive, and he ends up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a bloodthirsty warlord. The whole time, he’s also wrestling with his feelings for you, and he doesn’t know which is harder. Solipsism: knowledge of anything outside one’s own mind is unsure; the external world and other minds cannot be known and might not exist outside the mind.

“The more you know about the past, the better prepared you are for the future.” — Theodore Roosevelt

“Man, we haven’t been here since we were little kids,” Alfred took it all in as he made it inside, to where he was greeted by the skeleton of Tyrannosaurus rex in an awe-inspiring pose. With its head bowed toward the entrance, he and other patrons were greeted by a set of razor-sharp teeth grinning down with a hunger for the ages. “I wonder if anything’s changed. Probably a lot.”

“A bunch of stuff, actually. But it looks like they did a huge revamp on all the wax figures,” You lifted your gaze from a brochure you collected from the front. The museum of natural history wasn’t half as impressive as the Smithsonian, but it had a special place in both of your hearts. “They’re meant to be super realistic now. You know, the whole ‘history comes alive’ pizazz.”

“Huh. Then what would be the difference between here and Madame Tussaud’s?” He glanced at you.

“The people here are worth remembering.”

“Good point.”

As local New Yorkers, it was tradition to come back every once in a while. Yellow cabs, subway crazies, and the best pizza in the world — there was no other city quite like the Big Apple, and you two decided to swing by during your semester break to reconnect with your roots. Needless to say, it was nice to get away from the upbeat chaos of life on campus.

“You think you’re gonna go to Arthur’s Christmas party?” He asked you, peering around the room of American history. There was a shining stagecoach pulled by four black horses, mannequins in confederate and union uniforms with their guns trained at each other, a giant moose, and eagles watching over everything else.

“Well, we kinda have to. Can you imagine how upset he’d be if we didn’t? He’d probably be heartbroken.”

“Yeah, but I get crazy diarrhea every time.” He scoffed, eyes wide as he recalled blowing up the toilet last year.

”You don’t have to remind me.” You shuddered.

“I know, I was just saying. I was thinking we could go somewhere fun,” Alfred gave you an expectant look as he tried to sell you on it. “We could go skating, or just watch a movie back at my place. What do you say?”

“Hm, I don’t know. I’m really craving his scones.”

“Seriously?” 

”But not as much as our time together,” You smiled, watching him light up. Taking his hand, you pulled him along and said this with a laugh. “I’d rather go to the dumpster with you than the Met. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah.” He softened his gaze. You said that, but the way you held his hand said otherwise. Or was it because you two were that close? Either way, he was starting to go down the pipeline he swore that he wouldn’t.

”Are you okay?” You asked.

”Yeah, I’m fine.” He adjusted his glasses.

“Wanna kiss it better?” You swung his arm playfully.

Alfred glared at you as the only diversion from the fact that he was blushing. It was so like you to say things like that. You were attractive, and you knew it. With your sense of humor, it made for a dangerous game. But he’d been playing it for a while. He covered your entire face with his hand, then pushed you down to a nearby bench in one clean movement.

”Hey!” 

“Hey yourself.” Alfred walked off with his hands in his pockets, as cool as a cucumber.

This might’ve been all fun and games with you, but you weren’t the loneliest animal on the planet here. Not that it made his feelings for you any less real. He liked you, and not because you were an idea in his head.

You were real, every strange thought and neuron of your imagination. You could be as sharp as a tack when you wanted to be. He loved your mind and the way it worked, or at least when you weren’t tantalizing him.

“Remember when we were little we used to take baths together?” You sprung up out of the blue.

”Barely.” Alfred exhaled, wildly unprepared for what just came out of your mouth. But before he reacted any further, he reminded himself just who he was talking to. “That’s probably why we did it in the first place. Why?”

You were sleeping over that time, as you always did every Friday after your philosophy class. Your things were strewn all over his bedroom, like a half-eaten cup noodle, some snacks, and the clothes you brought over.

While he browsed the rest of the displays in the room, he let himself get immersed in that particular memory.

That was when you caught up with him again, even having the nerve to smile up at him with ‘hehe’ written all over your face. He glowered down at you, but really, he was just happy that you were by his side again.

You had a thirty second rebound before doing or saying the next pain in the ass thing, but he forgave you even faster than that. And it had been that way since horseshoe crabs were the only thing roaming the Earth.

”You think we could fit in the bathtub?”

“If you’re asking if I wanna take a bath with you, it’s an immediate no. We’re way too old for that.”

“You don’t have to be such a prude,” You mumbled, rolling your head away. “I was just wondering.”

“I’m not a prude.” He grumbled.

“And it’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before.”

“Yeah, when I was little!” 

“Can’t imagine it’s grown much since then.”

He glared at the ceiling, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of seeing how embarrassed he was.

As much as he’d like to pull his pants down to prove you wrong, he didn’t. Someone had to uphold a sense of decency around here, even if that person had to be him, the worst possible example of it, if he was one at all.

“If you’re done, I’m gonna go to sleep,” He sat up and twisted around to fluff up his pillow. You were starting to drift off by then, but he didn’t let you off so easily. “Don’t let me catch you peeking or I’ll molest you.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, geez.”

And to think he used to be such a cute kid, kicking his ball over your fence just so he could come over to play. You both grew up since then, and with that, came his awful sense of humor among other things.

But if you asked him, he learned from the best.

“You know the nicest people make the best Nazis?” You asked, walking by a glass display of three wax figures. Sakagawea, a young Shoshone woman who guided Lewis and Clarke on their expedition to the Pacific.

“Do they?” He narrowed his eyes in interest.

“Nice people look the other way and just wanna get along with everybody else.” You said, towing him along. “Have the whole country doing that, plus a heap of propaganda, you could get away with anything.”

“Well, if I was a German, I wouldn’t buy into it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred frowned, genuinely offended. “I’m not a freakin’ racist.”

”Being scorned is your kryptonite,” You pointed out, getting him to roll his eyes. So he didn’t like to deviate from standards, and being a raving right-wing was one at the time. “And trust me when I say you would be.”

”That’s why the second amendment exists,” He smiled sagely with a hint of mischief. “If the government was to push some crazy agenda into us, the rednecks wouldn’t have it. We shape society to what we want.”

”What if the society you want isn’t the society someone else wants?” You asked, stopping in front of an exhibit of a male Algonquin warrior. “We all worship something. What’s normal to you might be crazy for someone else.”

”I guess you’re right,” He agreed, gazing upon the person who lived — and believed — in things drastically different than did. His brows came together as he marveled at the man who stood over him, a chief’s son who had been dead for well over a thousand years.

Allen was his name. He had striking scarlet eyes, dark maroon hair, tawny brown skin, and a toned body from a life of hunting and gathering. As he stared out into the middle distance, there was something uncanny about him, like he could come alive at any second, but didn’t.

“What do you think this guy worshipped?” Alfred murmured faintly, strangely captivated by him.

It was humbling to be in the presence of all of these historical figures, but intimidating to imagine them as people who existed. He was a history nut, and one thing he understood was how astonishingly cruel and violent the past could be. From the swashbuckling tales of the Wild West to the burning sands of Ancient Egypt, everything was best enjoyed from the comforts of his modern American home. Or in this case, a museum.

Where all of the exhibits were mere imitations of the long dead and gone, it would take no less than a miracle for any of them to come back to life. Little did he know, a miracle was exactly what he’d be in for tonight. 

You two poked around some more, eventually ending up in the Northern European section of the museum. Nothing really stood out to him besides the Vikings, who also caught the attention of the general public.

“This man was the greatest viking to have ever lived. Mathias Densen, the king of Danes,” A guide showed off a wax exhibit to a crowd of tourists. You and Alfred were among them, having taken the liberty to tune in.

Some took pictures, others whispered amongst themselves at the impressive lookalike made to imitate a legend out of the sagas. He had blonde hair swept up in the front in an unruly mane, and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. With his arm raised and axe in hand, he was frozen in time, suspended in a pose so natural, it looked like he’d bring it down at any given moment.

“He was the most feared warrior in all of Scandinavia. When he threw an axe at his enemy, he never missed. But all blood and gore aside, he will go down in history as one of the best leaders and explorers of all time.”

”Wouldn’t wanna get him angry, huh?” Alfred gave you a side-eye, returning his gaze to the information plate. That was when he saw a portrait of a woman who was supposedly the only one who could go toe-to-toe with his ruthlessness. “You know, she kinda looks like you.”

”Really?” You leaned over. “I don’t see it.”

”No way. You guys are like twins!” He exclaimed.

“Maybe just the eyes.”

“Maybe she’s your long-lost ancestor or something.”

After another hour of walking around and talking, you and Alfred left to get to the exit. It was approaching closing time, and you two were among the last to leave. A security guard stood near the revolving doors, bidding farewell to guests. But before he could acknowledge you two, Alfred stopped and patted around his shirt.

“Shit, I left my glasses.” He winced.

Neither of you two thought it would’ve been problem to go back and retrieve them at the time. Who would’ve thought they’d made the security so much tighter that it would end up the biggest mistake of your lives?

After sweeping room after room, he eventually found them on the ground next to a bench. Sliding them onto his nose, he picked up a brisk jog as he made his way back downstairs. But by then, it was too late.  

“Now let’s get out before we get locked in.”

”Don’t jinx us.” 

”Not gonna happen.” 

And he said that so confidently too. Because when he pushed at the revolving door, it didn’t budge. 

”What’s wrong?” You asked from behind. 

“Nothing, just give me a sec…” He rattled it a few more times, but to no avail. Then, he let out a heavy breath as he admitted the one thing he thought could never happen. “… Okay, I think we’re locked in.”

“You’re joking.” You blurted.

You brushed past him to give the door a strong shake, needing that same taste of defeat before believing it yourself. Sure enough, it was locked shut, and would likely stay locked all the way up til morning.

“Oh my God, we are. What are we gonna do?”

”Call the cops.” He suggested, pulling out his phone to dial 9-11. After a few tries, to which he stared at you tensely with it pressed up to his ear, he found that the call kept failing. “Annnnd the cops aren’t picking up.”

“Well, keep trying! Call Arthur or something.” 

For the next thirty minutes, you both paced around while trying to reach local government services, then friends or loved ones. It slowly became apparent that you two weren’t getting out anytime soon.

You weren’t the type to express it, let alone say it, but you were getting scared and uncomfortable.

So was he, but like hell he’d let it show. Not because he didn’t have the balls to admit it, but it was the last thing you needed right now. You weren’t looking at him, and he knew in an instant that you were on the verge.

“We’re not gonna make it out, are we?”

Alfred was crushed with so much guilt, he couldn’t even react when the lights dimmed, plunging the museum into a pitch-black darkness. His eyes stayed wide with remorse, even when he couldn’t see you anymore.

In that moment, he came over and hugged you as tight as he could, lips pursed in a deep frown. It wasn’t every day that he could hold you like this, but he set aside every shard of his shattered ego to do it.

Even if he had to do it in the dark.

There couldn’t be a better metaphor for his feelings. Alfred had always been too afraid to tell you how he felt, and if he did, he’d do it in a way that was hidden from plain sight. This was one of those times.

It was one thing to admit he was scared. It was another to say he was sorry. But telling you how much you truly meant to him was damn near impossible. So instead of doing any of the above, he let you sleep on him.

He had his back on a cold hard bench while you drifted away. There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight, but this was just his karma. So he stayed like that for the next few hours, to which you began to stir. 

“You good?” He asked in a soft murmur.

”Yeah,” You rubbed your eyes. “Just a little thirsty.”

”I’m pretty sure there’s a fountain outside.” He helped you up, putting on his glasses. “I’ll come with you.” 

”No, it’s fine.” You sighed, getting up to leave the room. 

”Hey,” Alfred softened his gaze, getting you to slow to a stop. He was so exhausted, all of his walls were coming down. And he couldn’t stand to bottle it up inside him any longer. “I’m sorry, okay? This was all my fault.”

”It’s okay. We can’t all be born perfect.” You cracked a smile, walking off. But the happy note only lasted so long once you got to the hallway outside. It was so dark, you could barely see the ground beneath you.

With nothing but the wall lamps to illuminate the empty halls, the institution turned into nothing but a graveyard: a dim labyrinth of the long dead and gone. And like all graveyards, there were ghosts.

The black outline of wax figures lined your peripherals, and you gazed at them nervously as you made your way to the fountain. After a few satisfying gulps, you began making your way back to the room. That was when you heard the echo of footsteps in the distance, too far away to have made sense at the time. Someone was at the end of the hall, and it couldn’t have been Alfred.

“Hello?” You called out to the source.

The shadow of a man appeared around the corner, the details of his wild, upswept hair showing up on the wall. When he revealed himself, he was covered head to toe in thick fur pelts and armor. Your eyes went wide ever so slowly, heart racing as you were struck with this realization. He was a spitting image of the viking you’d seen on display, but he wasn’t just an inanimate statue made of colored wax and glue. He was moving.

Breathing. 

He was alive.

Alfred waited patiently for you to come back, though he regretted letting you go out by yourself. It wasn’t like there was anything out there, but you must’ve been afraid under that bravado you showed him. If only he knew how wrong he’d been. As he sat on the bench, the museum slowly came to life. All of its waxy inhabitants, people gone for centuries, returned from the dead.

And the lights came back on, one by one.

The Viking’s chest heaved for the air that hadn’t filled his lungs in eons. And with eyes as blue as the oceans he sailed across, he stared at you like he had just seen a ghost. They had a light in them they never had before, a consciousness, a soul, and you stared right back. But the way he looked at you was like nothing you’d expect. There wasn’t a trace of hostility in his gaze, but something deeply emotional and coherent.

Not that any of that mattered to you.

You split, running from him as fast as you could and with more adrenaline than what you thought was humanly possible. But then again, what you witnessed was a testament to the impossible. The dead walked, and you were trapped in here with hundreds of them. Whipping your head over your shoulder, you let out a frightened cry when you saw him chasing you. 

Your screams echoed down the hall, and Alfred felt his blood go cold hearing them. But he forced himself to stand, and without a shred of hesitation, he ran outside to look for you. When you weren’t by the fountain, his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. And his face, now whiter than a sheet of paper. Where did you go?

“(F/N)!” He yelled, sprinting down the hall.

But more importantly, what was it that made you scream? Whatever it was, he knew he’d never forgive himself if something happened to you. The lights were now on, and he swore he could hear the tapping of what sounded like hundreds of footsteps. There was something around the corner, or someone, he just never would’ve anticipated it beyond his wildest imagination.

“Where are you?” Once be got around the turn, what he saw put a stopper to his thoughts, derailing them with the most fantastical thing he had ever seen. His eyes flew open, and his mouth went agape so he could let out a shaky breath. “What the hell is going on?”

Swathes of people dressed in cultural adornments and even objects were out and about, talking to each other in languages he couldn’t even begin to decipher. Inuits, African tribesmen, and Edwardian socialites walked along the halls like time had just shattered upon itself. Marble sculptures, copper statues, and other pieces of art were moving about like they weren’t made of some kind of rock. There was even a Terracotta soldier, who was accompanied by a Chinese dragon made entirely out of green jade. Elephants, rhinos, and giraffes passed by in a strangely calm fashion like this wasn’t their first rodeo in the museum. Everyone did, except for him. 

“No way.” He whispered, glancing left to right as he picked up a jog. If he wasn’t wrong, everything in the museum had come to life. Was he dreaming? He had to be. In his dazed stupor, he ran into a medieval knight. There was a loud clank, and he would’ve winced from how much it hurt if it weren’t for being spoken to. 

“Excuse me. Watch where you’re going!” 

“Sorry!” He blurted. “I’m so sorry.”

”That’s alright! But you look a bit pale there, kid. What seems to be the problem?” The knight questioned, still wearing his helmet and hiding his face. Aside from his silver armor, he wore pure white garments with a blood red cross — the signature outfit of a crusader knight.

“Oh, um, where do I start?” Alfred panted, speaking in a frazzled manner. Funnily enough, this was the straightest he’d been thinking now that someone was talking to him. “Oh, I know! How the hell is everyone and everything in this museum alive right now?”

“I’d normally have a better answer, but I’ve never read anything like this in the Bible,” The other scratched their head through their helmet inquisitively. “Maybe I missed a chapter. But honestly, I’m just as lost as you are.”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“The Bible. The word of God. Haven’t you heard of it?”

”I know what the Bible is!” Alfred raised his voice into a frustrated hiss, but he instantly felt bad for it. “Sorry. I’m talking to a monk, here. I should be more respectful. But never mind that. I’m looking for my friend. I’m worried something happened to her.”

”I could help you look for her!” 

“That would be great, thank you.” 

”I’m Gilbert. Proud Templar Knight and brother from the Temple of Solomon.” They took off their helmet and held it against their hip, revealing a head of white hair and ruby-red eyes. Then, they outstretched a gloved hand for him with a toothy grin. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Alfred, uh, son of Arthur, and student hailing from New York,” Alfred improvised awkwardly, giving it a slow, disoriented shake. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m talking to a Crusader knight right now.”

“So where did you last see your friend?” Gilbert asked.

Mathias carried you all the way to the other side of the museum, and you thrashed the whole time, begging him to let you go. When he finally put you down, he kept a firm grip on your hand. You were greeted by other Vikings, and just when you thought you’d be sacrificed like a goat, they broke out in wide smiles.

Besides them speaking in old Norse to you, which you had no way of comprehending, they were more than pleasant to you, even offering you some plastic food, which you politely declined. From the way they acted around you, it was like being with an old friend.

It became clear that they had no intention of harming you, but why they brought you here was still a mystery.

”I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you guys are saying,” You interrupted meekly, darting your nervous eyes between them. They stared at you with blank faces before exchanging confused looks with each other. “Could you please let me go? I don’t want any trouble.”

“Where did you run off to? I haven’t seen you all week. I was worried something happened to you,” Mathias spun you to him, hugging you tightly before putting his hands all over you. “You’re speaking in tongues and acting very strange! We need to get you a doctor.”

”I didn’t understand that either.” You sighed.

”It’s worse than I thought. Somebody get Olaf,” The Dane ordered, summoning another Viking to come over. They took your arm and led you off, much to your dismay. “Look after her for me, friend. In the meantime, I have a man to hunt. He’s the one responsible for this.”

”Hey, wait! Where are you taking me?” You exclaimed, glancing back at Mathias as he left. In that precise moment, your best friend’s words replayed in your mind like a tape. You looked just like his wife, and so much that it had the actual guy fooled. “Oh no. Alfred!” 

It didn’t take a linguist to know that he was in trouble, but there was nothing you could do. Your companions kept you inside their make-shift hut, treating you as one of their own. They laid you down and spoke to you very slowly, so they must’ve thought you had a concussion. Either way, they weren’t letting you out of their sight.

You just hoped Alfred brushed up on his history, because he’d be needing it tonight.

”Where the hell could she be?” Alfred walked with his newest companion. “We checked everywhere!” 

”Actually, we still haven’t checked Northern Europe.” Gilbert corrected, getting the blonde to turn in the direction of said location. But he launched a hand out and grabbed him, pulling him back. “Don’t. It’s suicide.”

”Why?” He frowned.

”It’s occupied by Norse Pagans.” The albino warned, pulling him close for a tantalizing whisper. He glanced around before he continued, almost as if speaking of them would summon them like the devil himself.

”Norse Pagans? You mean Vikings?”

“They came here last week, and it’s been Hell ever since.” Gilbert took his collar as he whispered in a panicked hush. “We sent a missionary up there once, and he came back to us completely dismembered!”

“Oh, fuck.” Alfred dug his hands through his hair, now a nervous wreck as he envisioned the thought. But what made his stomach really churn was the unshakeable thought that it was probably where you were.

For that, he was surprised he hadn’t vomited already. And he almost did when Gilbert went off on a passionate spiel of the Scandinavian heathens and everything they’d done. That was when one appeared at the end of the hall, and it wasn’t just any Scandinavian heathen.

”I mean, he’s okay now, but it was really disturbing.” The other made a face of unease as he recalled the sight. It wasn’t something a person was meant to see in their lifetime, but at least he was in a more dubious position now. “I don’t think they care for God.”

“Dude.”

”What?”

”That’s the Viking I saw earlier today.” Alfred whispered, locking eyes with Mathias who stood no more than three hundred feet away from him. In the next three seconds, the Dane broke into a sprint, charging at him at a terrifying speed like a mad bull. He let out a wheeze, likely the sound of his soul escaping his body. “Aaaand he’s running at us. Well, this has been a good life.”

”God hasn’t forsaken us yet!” Gilbert unsheathed a gleaming longsword, swinging it in impressive circles.  

Mathias launched an axe at him, and it spun through the air so fast, it passed as nothing but a white flash.

It cut Gilbert’s head clean off, getting it to land on the ground with a thump. There was no blood or flesh, just a cross-section of wax where he was decapitated. While he had his face planted on the floor, he said this in a muffled voice. “So that’s what that feels like.” 

But Alfred had already fled by then.

He never stuck around to see his friend lose his dignity, much less his own. He whimpered a little as he pumped his legs as fast as he could. He was running on so much adrenaline, his bloodstream may as well have been battery acid. But not everybody could outrun a Viking, and he would’ve eaten it if it weren’t for the arm that shot out from the side, pulling him into a room.

When he turned to the stranger who’d saved him, he recognized him to be the native Algonquin warrior he’d seen earlier that day. Only this time, he was perfectly canny and had an unrivaled sharpness that would end up ensuring his survival. While Mathias ran by outside with his pelts and armor clinking away, Allen put a finger up to his mouth to get him to stay deathly still.

But above all else, quiet.

There they crouched, hidden from plain sight like the watchful forces of nature. In the most tense ten seconds of their lives, they stared at each other, cerulean and scarlet eyes as wide as they could get them. For a moment, Alfred forgot he was being chased, deeply enchanted by the person in front of him. He was quite literally gazing back into history, a thousand years into the past to be precise. But once the coast was clear, he went back to hyperventilating. He was still in shock from everything that just happened, and the first thing he let out was an excited, albeit exasperated gasp. 

“Oh my God. You just saved my life. Thank you!” 

”Don’t mention it.” Allen took his bow off so he could arm himself with it. Then, he peered outside the door, making sure there weren’t any Vikings in the area. Turning back to the blonde, he pulled an arrow from his quiver without breaking eye contact. “I’ve been tracking that guy for days, and this is the craziest I’ve ever seen him. You have any idea why he would be after you?”

“How should I know? I don’t know the guy personally!” Alfred exclaimed, following him out into the hall. 

“You must’ve done something to piss him off.”

”But I didn’t do anything!” 

“Then he wouldn’t waste his time chasing you when he’d rather search for his girlfriend.” Allen remarked. “One of my pals can speak his language, and he says he’s been looking for her ever since he got here.”

“Fuck, that’s it. Why didn’t I think of it before?”

They ran to the elevator, to which he pressed the button for the basement. It had always been on the tip of his tongue, but the whirlwind of a night left his head more scrambled than he thought. And now that he had it all pieced together, he came up with a plan to save you.

“I came here with my friend, and she looks exactly like his wife. He must’ve seen us together. But it’s okay, I have an idea. They must have extra wax figures in storage, right? If she’s as important as they say, they must have her tucked away down here somewhere.”

“Okay, so we do a trade-off.”

”Exactly.”

”Smart.” Allen pursed his lips, thoroughly impressed.

The doors slid open and thus, they began their search, sweeping the entire basement for the reason why the museum had turned into a war zone. After an hour or so, Alfred heard someone banging away and calling for help from inside a tall wooden crate. A woman, and she sounded just like you. He and Allen walked up to it, then cracked it open like a treasure chest. Lo and behold, it was your doppelgänger, but dressed in the height of fashion from what was a thousand years ago.

“I think we found our girl.” He murmured in awe.

The three of you got back to the elevator. It was a given that the you from the Viking age was a little hesitant to get into such a tight box, but Allen had a way with body language. He made a few gestures to let you know where he was taking you. What more was that these two men had just broken you out of an even tighter box, so you had no reason not to trust them. 

“You know, I meant to ask, but doesn’t it bother you that there is a living, breathing, homicidal axe-wielding maniac running around the museum every night?” Alfred asked, feeling strangely calm now that he sensed that the night’s excitement was coming to an end. 

“We’re not alive the way you’re alive,” Allen told him. That was right. As magical as it was to have the museum come to life, it wasn’t real. History had done its course. He spoke with power and humility as he confronted that fact, and for that, he seemed to be at peace. “We’ve had our shot. But you still have yours.”

“I have the craziest chills right now.”

”But also because we’re made of wax.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Alfred laughed a little, turning to him. ”So how come you speak English?”

”I’ve been on display here for years,” Allen grinned, walking out now that the elevator doors opened. They returned to the bustling halls of the Museum of Natural History, where history had really come to life that night. “New York is my home. Always has been.”

”Explains the accent.” 

It didn’t take long to track down Mathias again, and when he finally laid eyes on the one he’d been searching for, he turned into an entirely different person. His anger, terror, and everything that made him a legend, had all but melted into a deep emotional coherence.

He was nothing but a man now. A man with his own joys and sorrows like everybody else.

He dropped his ax and ran up to his long-lost love, picking her up and embracing her after what felt like an eternity. He finally found her again after a thousand years, and the scene was quite profound to behold.

But if you asked Alfred, it wasn’t as touching as his reunion with you. He found you in the hall of Northern Europe, holed up in a tent and rubbing your eyes. They were red from crying, and the way you looked at him was something he’d burn in his mind forever. And the way you hugged him, a feeling he’d never get tired of.

”I knew you’d come.” You squeezed him.

“Of course I came,” He squeezed you back, burying his face into the crooked of your neck. “But maybe it’s time that I switch out my glasses for some contact lenses. Don’t wanna keep losing them like I did tonight.”

“No way!” You gushed. “I like the way you look now.”

”Yeah?” He smiled rosily. From that outburst alone, he knew you’d forgiven him for everything that happened. But from the sound of things, you had a much easier time than he did. On the way home, he enthused you on the people he met and his close brushes with death. 

“You ever hear of a term called solipsism?” You asked. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” He shook his head.

“It’s the concept that everything around you doesn’t exist and is made up by your own mind,” You explained, stopping him in the middle of the street. It was dawn by then, and the rising sun cast a golden glow over your tender smile. “But if everything around me is just my imagination, you’re the best thing I’ve come up with.”

His eyes went wide, shocked by how sweet you just were. Just like that, everything he ever pined away for didn’t matter anymore. He was worth more to you than an adventure of a lifetime because he was that adventure. But at the same time, Alfred fell even harder for you, and it showed in the way his gaze softened. 

”Right back at you, sport.” 

[juyeonszn]

SACRIFICE (EAT ME UP)

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 9.17k

GENRES horror ﹒ smut ﹒ angst ﹒ fluff ig?

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, mentions of murder, descriptions of crime scenes, mentions of blood, mentions of knifes, graphic description of stab wounds, mentions of potential mental illness, THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS THAT CONSTITUTE WARNINGS BUT ?!1?1 I DONT WANT TO SPOIL !1!2!2, Lots of Kissing, mutual masturbation (f! receiving fingering & m! receiving hand job), pillow talk ig, big dick hyunjae 😈, um unprotected sex lol be safe u silly geese, car sex, cowgirl position yeehaw, creampie, this entire fic is just a whole fucking roller coaster i stg it’s gonna haunt me forever

SUMMARY with a serial killer running rampant on campus, everyone around you seems to be dropping like flies. but, hey, at least you have hyunjae to protect you.

MORE omg.. my first written work for tbz 🙀 extra super fun fact; this was originally an idea i had for hyunjin from skz on my other blog that i actually started writing the week before halloween last year (the reason it’s a horror fic), but i never finished and sort of felt like there was no point in continuing it after a while— that is until i stumbled upon the draft a few weeks ago and decided to revamp, edit, and complete it 😋 i kept going back and rereading and then blanking when i wanted to add to it until last night when i said fuck it and drank two cups of coffee to power through the end 🙌 anyways.. here u all go, my baby that i never thought would see the light of day and my first time writing a genuine horror piece <3 also special shoutout to rina my soulmate @tsukidou for beta reading 🫶

PLAYLIST sacrifice (eat me up) — enhypen, awake — the boyz, roar — the boyz, fever — enhypen, fate — enhypen, taste — stray kids, wake up — ateez, white noise — pvris, heaven — pvris

“Alright, that’s all for today’s lecture. If this was your last of the day, make sure to find someone to go home with and remember the curfew rules!” Your English professor says, concluding the class.

The students around you rush to pack up their things and get off of campus as soon as possible. You don’t seem to be in a hurry, though, taking your time to put away your notebook and laptop. Your roommates were still in their music production class, so you didn’t want to go home alone, deciding to wait until they were done.

“Y/N, don’t you wanna get home?” Professor Park asks, her voice echoing in the now empty lecture hall. She throws the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“I do, but I have to wait for my roommates. They’re in a class right now and I’d rather not go by myself.” You let out an awkward laugh. She nods at your reasoning, giving you a small smile for comfort.

“Okay, you be careful! I’ll see you on Thursday.”

You raise your hand in a silent salutation, watching as she exits the room, leaving you completely alone. Though a public space, in a public building, the fact that there’s no one else nearby leaves you utterly unsettled. Your stomach churns with a twinge of fear and you start to feel a bit claustrophobic despite being in such a spacious area, so you choose this point to hurriedly collect your belongings and get the hell out of there.

The past couple of months have been in this weird state of limbo. You don’t recall exactly when the killings started, but once the police noticed a pattern, everyone knew sooner or later that the presence of a serial murderer would be announced on the local news. Your town enforced a citywide curfew to protect its citizens, but mostly the students at your university.

Every single one of the killer’s victims were university students. You were friends with a bunch of guys and while it was nice having big strong men surrounding you, you knew that could hardly do anything to quell the lingering anxiety you’ve felt ever since the spree began.

The police seemed to be having trouble coming up with any possible suspects, or even gaining any leads, thanks to the killer’s unusual victimology and the cool down time between murders always varying. If the people in charge of protecting you couldn’t do that, how were you supposed to feel safe?

In an attempt to get to the building where Jacob, Kevin, and Eric were as fast as you could, you speed walk out of the lecture hall, accidentally bumping into someone. You bow at a nearly ninety-degree angle and hurl out apology after apology following the collision, not trying to make any enemies in this day and time.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot.” The stranger spits, waiting for you to glance up at him to give you a nasty glare. He looks like the kind of guy who thought he was all that, despite peaking in high school. You feel your bottom lip quiver and you avoid eye contact.

“I—”

“Woah, dude, chill the fuck out. It was an accident, I’m sure she didn’t— wait, N/N, is that you? Hey it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

There’s a familiar voice in your ears and a hand under your chin, forcing you to stand upright. Whoever you bumped into walks away with a scoff. You meet eyes with Lee Hyunjae, one of your dearest friends. He recognizes that hint of panic in your features and he frowns.

“I’m so sorry, Jae, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going—” Your breath is caught in your throat and you fumble over your words.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” he keeps a hold on your biceps. “It’s alright, I promise. He’s gone. What’s wrong?”

You shut your eyes tightly, feeling pathetic for causing such a scene for no apparent reason. Hyunjae guides you through your breathing, his focus trained on you the whole time. He always made you feel so comfortable.

“With everything that’s been going on, I’m just so paranoid and afraid of being alone. I wanted to go to the music department building and wait for the boys.” You finally explain once you’ve calmed down and the rise of your chest is even.

“How about this? I’ll take you home so you don’t have to stay on campus any longer.” He suggests, bringing up a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. You nod slowly, gathering your bearings.

Hyunjae leads you to his car that’s parked in the lot closest to the building you were just in and the two of you make your way to your apartment. You’d been friends with your roommates for years now, meeting in eighth grade. You had just moved schools and happened to be put into a class with Eric Sohn, the most rambunctious boy you’d ever met. He thought you seemed really sweet upon first impression and decided to befriend you, introducing you to all of his friends in turn.

Aside from Eric, there was Sangyeon, Jacob, Younghoon, Hyunjae, Juyeon, Kevin, Changmin, Chanhee, Haknyeon, and Sunwoo. While it was a little overwhelming, it was nice going from zero friends to eleven in the span of just a couple days. You were pretty close to all of them, but you and Hyunjae initially hit it off the best. You understood each other on a different level than everyone else and to this day, you still don't know the exact reason why.

Towards the end of high school, your friendship with Hyunjae transformed into something that wasn’t purely platonic. You weren’t entirely sure when it started to change, but your feelings for him grew exponentially. You tried to keep them to yourself, hidden from the world to preserve your fragile teenage heart. Though you’d already been friends with them a few years at that point, you still had that inkling of dread in the pit of your stomach that one day they’d choose to stop talking to you. You especially didn’t want a silly crush to be the cause of that.

After a while, however, the lines began to blur together anyway and everyone could tell you felt for him romantically. Once, Eric had made a comment about it being so painfully obvious that Hyunjae was just as into you and it nearly shook your whole world.

When college time rolled around, you all knew you’d be attending the same university, so picking roommates was a bit of a tricky situation. You chose yours solely based on the fact that you were majoring in similar things, so it’d be easy to fit schedules together. (You also couldn’t handle being roommates with Hyunjae; it’d be too much for your heart.) Hyunjae lived with Juyeon, Changmin, and Sunwoo, while Sangyeon, Younghoon, Chanhee, and Haknyeon lived together.

Hyunjae parks in a spot near the stairs that lead to your unit. The car is still running when you unbuckle your seatbelt and you stare at the steps blankly. Though the close proximity with him has your pulse racing, you want nothing more than some company until your roommates get home. You turn to him shyly, balling up a fistful of your sweater.

“Jae, do you— do you think you could stay with me for a bit before the boys come back? I don’t— I really don’t wanna be alone right now.”

The look he gives you is full of adoration, like you personally put the stars in the sky. He smiles softly and nods, reaching across the center console to place a comforting hand on top of yours. The two of you keep them intertwined as you go inside your apartment, locking all the locks carefully before sitting on your couch.

You don’t make a comment about him not letting go despite already being in the safety of your home. You don’t say anything about him pulling you into his side either, mostly because you want him to.

With all that’s been happening recently, you’ve felt so hollow. There was this indescribable emptiness expanding in you and even though you so desperately wanted to chalk it up to something else, you knew it was due to the fact that there was growing anxiety that you could be next, that any of your friends could be next. You were starting to move like you were in a simulation, doing everything in your daily routine without a single emotion. Sure, you’d laugh when Eric made a stupid joke but that’s about the most anyone could get from you aside from the occasional panic attack.

Hyunjae being here and holding you is exactly what you needed to feel some semblance of warmth again.

There’s a soft knock on your bedroom door around eight that same night, waking you from your slumber. You don’t remember falling asleep or being moved to your bed, so you’re not too sure when Hyunjae left. You rub the sleep from your eyes as you get up to open your door.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you, but we got some takeout if you’re hungry.” Jacob says with an apologetic smile, leaning on the door frame.

You give him a bleary look as you nod, following him into the dining room where your other two roommates were sitting at the table. Eric greets you through a full mouth. A small laugh escapes you when you sit across from him, Kevin adjacent to your seat. The sound of the TV in the living room plays as background noise as the four of you eat.

“So when’d you get home? I thought you were gonna wait for us.” Kevin asks.

“I was, but then I ran into Hyunjae when I was on my way to your building and he offered to bring me home,” you shrug, taking some tteokbokki with your chopsticks. “It was a whole thing, please don’t ask.”

Eric hums to himself, a mischievous grin on his face as he takes a sip of his cola. “Interesting. And you say he’s not into you…”

Heat blooms over your cheeks and you accidentally drop your chopsticks on your plate, their clacking against the ceramic garnering your roommates’ attention. Eric Sohn was now number one on your hit list. Kevin elbows him in the side and tells him to be quiet, despite the tiny upwards curve of his lips.

“If he cares about you as much as he seems like he does, he wouldn’t have left you here alone after you fell asleep,” Jacob mutters, looking at you from his peripherals. “What was the point of escorting you home if—”

“Jacob shut the fuck up,” Eric suddenly blurts, the three of you stare at him as he clambers over to the living room, turning up the volume on the TV. “Look!”

You turn in your chair, your stomach churning at the news report unfolding before you.

“We’re live just outside SNU, where another victim has been found. The body hasn’t been identified yet, but from what we do know, he was a student that attended the school,” the female reporter says into the microphone she’s holding, a glazed over expression in her eyes. “Crime Scene Investigators believe he was murdered at around six this evening, and was assumed to have been making his way home from campus. Updates are expected to come later tonight once we have more information.”

You know that far away, checked out gaze she had all too well. She’s reported on the killings for a while now, no doubt numb to the way things were at this point.

Your appetite spoils immediately and you excuse yourself from the table, making your way back to your room. You sit on your bed and bring your knees to your chest, taking a deep breath in, then covering your mouth when you breathe out to muffle the sob that follows. It was becoming too overwhelming for you and there was nothing you could do about it besides sit back and watch.

It was understandable for anyone in your situation to feel hopeless, how could they not? With someone terrorizing the city in an unpredictable manner, there was no sense of normalcy in anyone’s life. You shudder when you finally bring yourself to stop crying, digging your nails into the fat of your calves.

Through the walls, you can hear the boys talking, voices solemn.

“Why’d you have to put the TV louder, dumbass?”

“Sorry, I just like being up to date on the case, you know? I want to be prepared. What if I need to learn clone jutsu to take out the guy?”

“Eric, you’re such a clown, oh my god.”

“I get that you’re interested and all, but you have to be mindful of Y/N. You know how much this has affected her both emotionally and physically, she doesn’t need the constant reminder that it’s happening. And I’d appreciate if you apologized for telling me to ‘shut the fuck up’.”

There’s a snort in between.

“My bad, I didn’t mean to be rude about it. But while we’re on the topic, I think we both need to admit our mistakes. What you said about Hyunjae to her wasn’t cool either. I know we’re all friends, but it just came across too—”

“It was really snappy, Jacob. And a bit petty.”

“Yeah! What Kevin said.”

“I— you’re right. I just don’t want her getting hurt, in more ways than one.”

You don’t hear much else from the trio and sigh heavily, dragging your hands down your face and wiping your eyes with the heels of your palms. You grab your phone from your nightstand and hesitantly search for Hyunjae’s contact, the line ringing a couple times before he answers.

“Y/N? Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“N-no, I’m fine. I was just— I wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay,” you mess with your bottom lip. “I heard there was another victim and I didn’t know when you left the apartment, so I just— uh— I just needed to know that you were safe. I called to see if you’d answer.”

You squeeze your eyes shut out of embarrassment, even if he can’t exactly see you. The stuttering was enough to make you go into hiding for the rest of your life if this serial killer didn’t.

“Oh,” you can hear the slight chuckle in his response from the way his breath hits the speaker. “It means a lot that you’d do that, N/N. Really, I appreciate you so much.”

Your lip finds itself between your teeth and your heart is pounding unbearably fast, you think you might be having a heart attack. You bring a hand up to clutch at your chest as a fuzzy feeling courses through your whole being.

Now you were scared for an entirely different reason.

(The main one occupies your mind again later that night when you scroll through your Twitter feed, only to find out the most recent victim was the guy you accidentally bumped into. You feel like some sick version of a guardian angel was looking after you. It makes it hard to fall asleep after that.)

A couple days passed and you found yourself thinking about Lee Hyunjae more than usual.

Not to say that you didn’t already think about him at least once a day, but now it was worse. When you woke up, you wondered if he was still asleep. While you drank your morning coffee, you wondered if it’d taste sweeter had he made it for you. When you had lunch, you wondered if he’d like the spam musubi you made yourself. When you attended your other classes, you wondered which courses he was struggling with this semester.

As you were walking out of your English class, you recalled running into him. Had he not been there, you might’ve driven yourself insane trying to rush over to the music building while diffusing the issue with that stranger.

When you first began to harbor feelings for him, you assumed it would become nothing more than a silly schoolgirl crush. He was attractive and kind to you, but that was just the bare minimum— you thought you’d grow out of it. However, as time went on, what you thought was just puppy love had blossomed into something stronger. It was a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, all of that had been tossed on the back burner with everything that’s going on. Recently you’ve been too afraid for your own safety and well-being to over analyze your interactions with Hyunjae, but now you’re back to square one.

All because he’d done something nice for you.

God, the bar was so low. Was it really too much to ask for someone who was decent? Someone who wasn’t a serial killer?

You were on your way to the music building to wait for Jacob, Kevin, and Eric once again, when you see Hyunjae coming down the hall. He’s on his phone, not paying any mind to his surroundings. You’re about to call out to him when someone stops you, tugging on the sleeve of your sweater gently.

“Hey, Y/N right?” The tall boy asks, a charming smile on his face.

“Uh— yeah,” you nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Y-you are?”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I must seem like a total weirdo,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m Mingyu! We have English together.”

“Oh, you’re Mingyu? Professor Park told me about you before class today,” you give him a small comforting smile. “I don’t mind helping you!”

“Ah, that’s great to hear. I was a bit worried you’d be more annoyed about having to tutor someone so late in the semester.” Though he’s much taller than you and approached you first, Mingyu comes across as a little shy in nature. It puts you at ease in a way.

“No, not at all! English isn’t always the easiest, I get that. I wanna help as much as I can before finals. Look,” you pause, pulling your backpack off one shoulder to rip out a sheet of paper. “I’ll give you my number so we can arrange meet up dates! I’d prefer if we met at the library if that’s okay with you?”

Mingyu grins and sports a thumbs up in agreement. “That sounds perfect. Thank you so much, Y/N!”

You scribble your phone number onto the paper and hand it to him before parting ways. With the off guard conversation, you nearly forgot about Hyunjae, who was nowhere to be seen now. You feel your lips droop into a frown, since you were hoping you could talk with him for a second.

As you’re walking across the quad to the music building, a wind chill blows past you, making you wrap your arms around yourself. It was mid November and for some stupid reason, you were only wearing a small cardigan.

When you squint up at the sky, you also realize it’s more overcast than anything. There’s an angry grey cloud right above you and you curse yourself for not having an umbrella or a raincoat. You should've been more prepared, especially because of the inconsistent weather this time of year.

Suddenly, the sky is blocked from your view and you furrow your brows, spinning around. Hyunjae stares back at you with a smile ten times warmer than the frigid air surrounding you and a thicker jacket in one hand. The other holds up an umbrella just as tiny droplets begin to fall from above.

His timing couldn’t have been better.

“Heading to the music building?” He asks, skillfully placing the coat on your shoulders.

“Mhm… was gonna wait for the boys.” You respond, a little awestruck by how gorgeous he was. Especially up close. Your eyes fixate on the freckle on his nose rather than his own. He hums, keeping an arm around your shoulders as he leads you in a different direction.

“I can take you home again,” he glances down at you. “I don’t mind one bit.”

“O-okay!”

During the car ride to your apartment, you send a quick text to your roommates about not waiting up. You were happy that your relationship with Hyunjae was evolving. The past couple semesters had been rough, and you hadn’t seen him or any of the other guys nearly as much as Jacob, Kevin, and Eric. (And that was only because you lived with them.)

You toss your keys on to the mini table beside the front door, taking off your shoes with a small groan. The boots were cute, but not very comfortable. Hyunjae follows suit, his sock clad feet shuffling against the floor to sit on the couch.

After switching on the TV, you find a random Hallmark Christmas movie to play in the background, knowing full well that his presence beside you was too distracting. The brunette turns to face you, placing a hand on your thigh gently to get your attention.

“So, who was the dude you were talking to earlier?”

You blink at his question. So he saw you after all. Was he perhaps jealous? The idea shouldn’t make you giddy, but it does. “My professor asked me to tutor him ‘cause he’s struggling with English. Why?”

“Just curious. He seemed a little touchy.” Hyunjae plays with the hem of your sweater.

“O-oh. It’s fine, he wasn’t a random perv, if that’s what you were wondering.”

He scoots a little closer to you, tucking some hair behind your ear. You feel your face flush impossibly hotter. Your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat. His body heat radiates off of him with the new proximity.

“Good. It drives me crazy seeing other guys put their hands on you.” He admits bluntly, his hand resting at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder.

You know you look insane, your chest heaving up and down and your eyes widened a little. Like a baby deer caught by a predator. Who knew sweet sweet Hyunjae had a rather risqué side to him? You swallow thickly, not daring to move an inch. His thumb caresses your skin gently, goosebumps littering in its wake.

“Hyunjae…” You breathe, lips parting as you finally make eye contact with him.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

You want to scream into the cushion behind you, your hands clamming up. Hyunjae looks like he could swallow you whole if he wanted to, his bottom lip between his teeth as he leans in a bit more. This moment was something straight out of one of your darkest fantasies. You never thought this would ever happen, that either of you would ever actually make a move on the other.

The sound of the front door unlocking catches both of your attention. Hyunjae pulls away from you faster than your brain can comprehend what exactly just occurred. Jacob is the first to walk in, laughing at something Eric said. The three males pause when they see you’re not alone.

The greetings are quick, Hyunjae dapping up the boys as if nothing. He’s also quick to say goodbye, ensuring them that he’ll make sure you’re safe when they’re not around. He gives you that smile of his, the one where his eyes form crescents, and then he’s gone.

You don’t know how much more of this you could take.

“So, Y/N…” Eric starts in the middle of dinner, side eyeing you as he shovels rice into his mouth. “You and Hyunjae have been together an awful lot lately.”

Kevin snorts, kicking the blonde under the table. You suppose it was going to come up eventually. This ‘Will They, Won’t They’ back and forth shit was starting to tire you out. You weren’t getting any younger. Time was passing you up the longer you waited to just say something. And with all that’s been going on, it was silly to be afraid of admitting your feelings.

“He’s being a good friend, Eric,” Jacob sighs, reaching across to flick him on the forehead. “It’s actually really nice that he watches over Y/N when we’re gone.”

Eric grimaces, rubbing the spot that Jacob assaulted. You frown a bit when you realize that he had a point. Hyunjae was treating you like a child that had to be tended to, babysitting you like you weren’t capable of holding your own. Granted, both times he’s come over, you asked him to. So you couldn’t really blame him for assuming you wanted him around to protect you.

“Do y’all think Hyunjae actually likes me? In a non-platonic way?”

Kevin’s spoon clatters onto the floor and they all pause their banter to look at you. Every time your feelings for Hyunjae were brought up, you chose to ignore them and switch the subject. You can’t keep running away.

“Uh— yeah. Duh. Of course he does. I don’t know anyone else who would go out of their way to stay with someone they saw as just a friend multiple times a week so she felt safe.” Kevin finally answers after a moment.

“Okay.” You settle on, taking a sip of your water.

“What do you mean ‘okay’?” He raises an eyebrow at you, but you just shrug.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

As you’re washing the dishes after dinner, you hear the news broadcast over the faucet. Another victim had just been found behind the campus library. The camera shows the scene behind the reporter, something that would’ve made you queasy a couple days ago, but now you feel nothing— just a dull ache in your chest. It’s messy, almost like the killer was in a hurry to get it over with.

The body is covered with a black tarp, paramedics wheeling it away in the corner of the screen. The reporter still wears that dissociated expression on her face as she goes over the details of this victim. She explains that because the murder was done so haphazardly, they were able to identify the body easily.

Twenty three year old Kim Mingyu, Sports Med Major.

The rest of the news report sounds like static in your ears as you scrub away at the dishes mindlessly. Your fingers have pruned and the water was burning the backs of your hands, but you don’t feel it, too checked out to care. It seemed like the killings were getting closer and closer to you. Part of you thought you’d be next every single time.

You had to tell Hyunjae how you felt. It was now or never.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s waiting outside of your apartment complex, leaning against his car. You take careful steps down the stairs, nearly fainting at the sight of him in a hoodie and grey sweatpants. He runs around the car to open the passenger door for you, only shutting it when you’re all buckled up. It’s not long after that he revs the engine and drives off to nowhere in particular, just like you requested. (Curfew ignored.)

It’s silent at first, save for the low hum of his music, R&B that resonates somewhere within your soul. You can’t help but steal a glance from your peripheral, fisting your sweatshirt when you see how concentrated he looks while driving. He has his right hand resting on the gear shift, the other gripping the wheel. You could’ve had this view all to yourself so long ago had you just spoken up.

“Hyunjae,” your voice is wobbly, but you steel yourself to continue. “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” He asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Do you think— uh— do you think you could pull over?” If you were going to confess, you wanted him to look at you. Besides, the drive was starting to make you jittery.

He nods and goes a bit further, before pulling into an empty lot. He shifts into park, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn his body towards you, giving you his undivided attention. You mirror him, tightening your hold on your sweater when he wets his lips, smiling at you. “Is this what you called me for?”

“Yeah, actually,” you force yourself to keep eye contact, pushing the lump back down your throat. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for years now, if I’m being honest with both of us.”

He chuckles, much like he did the other night over the phone. It drives you just a little crazy. “I’m listening.”

“I— I don’t know how to word this properly…” You wipe your palms on your legs. Come on, Y/N, spit it out already. “Fuck, okay, I like you Hyunjae. Like, really like you. In the way that I sometimes wish you would kiss me until I can’t breathe. I’ve been so afraid of admitting that to myself, but I’ve realized that life is way too short to dwell over the fear of rejection. But please, tell me you feel the same.”

He stares at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes. You feel like throwing up now, you stomach twisting and churning at the thought that you just ruined everything between you. There was no going back after this. He knew.

It’s as if months have passed by in utter silence with Hyunjae just sitting there, no words coming out of his mouth, until finally, he just leans across the center console, cupping your cheek with one of his hands. His vision is trained on your lips, his face close enough that his lashes flutter against your skin. God, he was even more gorgeous from this distance.

Instead of saying anything, he presses his lips to yours, a sweet but desperate kiss that melts away all the worries tucked into your head. They feel so soft on your own, molding together in near perfect timing. It’s like you’d been living for a year without rain and this kiss was the shower that saved you from a drought. It’s all you’ve ever wanted and needed and more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he breathes when he pulls away slightly. “The real thing is so much better than I imagined it would be.”

For once, time slows down in this moment, almost like the world stopped spinning on its axis. Everything slips from your mind and it’s just you and Hyunjae, here in his car in the middle of an empty parking lot. Nothing else matters. You smile at his confession, a genuine smile that was spurred on by contentment rather than force. You felt light and airy, no longer weighed down by such a trivial problem.

“I think I have an idea,” you giggle, reaching up to brush a stray hair from his face. “I’m not too sure, though, I could be wrong. Could you do that again to help jog my memory?”

Hyunjae laughs, (it’s the most melodic sound you’ve ever heard) but doesn’t hesitate to kiss you. You reciprocate his passion, tangling your fingers in his dark hair. He sighs into the kiss, pulling you on top of him. Your legs straddle his lap as best as they can and he reaches down to recline his seat, scooting it as far as it can go from the wheel. The thin material of your fleece shorts hardly hide the feeling of him under you, a low moan pushing into his mouth.

He nips at your bottom lip, tugging at it with his teeth gently before peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking along the exposed skin from your sweatshirt. You whine, throwing your head back as his tongue soothes over the bruising area. His hands slide under your top, rubbing up and down your sides before moving them down to your thighs, repeating the action.

“You’re so gorgeous on top of me like this, Y/N.” Hyunjae says, just above a whisper like someone else might hear this intimate conversation. He grips your hips and bucks upwards to grind into your clothed core. Your eyes widen and you involuntarily moan at the sensation. This wasn’t what you were expecting when you planned to confess, but you didn’t hate the outcome. He grins at your response, reconnecting your mouths sloppily.

If you were given the choice, you were wholeheartedly satisfied with just this. You would’ve been plenty okay with just making out. Had you been asked years ago that you’d even get this far, you would’ve snorted in your own face, so why should you be greedy and want more than what you had? (That’s not to say that you didn’t.)

“H-Hyunjae,” you stutter, your brain foggy from all of the kissing you just did. “Do you…?”

You trail off, not sure how to word your question. You didn’t want to come off like a sex crazed maniac, but you didn’t want to come off like an amateur virgin either. Truth of the matter is, you were neither, but it had been a while since you indulged yourself in something of this sort. And this time it would be with Hyunjae, the one person you never thought you’d do this with. You were nervous.

All you wanted was to be entwined with him in more ways than one. You wanted all of him— the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the sick, the healthy. He could do no wrong on your eyes and you wanted to show him that.

“Do I…?” Hyunjae trails off, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you want to make love… with me?” This had to be the single most mortifying moment of your life. You cover your face in humiliation, shying away from him when he sits up on his elbows.

“What kind of question is that?” He asks with a chuckle, prying your hands from your face so he could look you in the eyes. “If I could make love to you every hour of the day, for seven days a week, I would. I want you all the time, Y/N. Earlier today, before we got interrupted, I wanted to do unimaginable things to you.”

You hide yourself in the crook of his neck, your skin flushing hotter. Weren't you wearing too many layers? The car was starting to feel stuffy. Hyunjae’s chest rumbles with laughter beneath you, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. This is probably the gentlest he’d be with you all night, because from what you could infer, he was a manhandler.

“Take care of me,” you breathe, mouth brushing against his pulse point. “Please.”

Hyunjae stops holding himself back. He’d do whatever you asked of him, only hoping you’d be tied to him in every lifetime, just like this one. He kisses you again with an unrivaled fervor, slipping his hands inside your sweatshirt and touching you everywhere physically possible. They’re warm on your skin, palming your breasts over the flimsy fabric of your bralette.

He helps you get rid of your top and shorts, leaving you in just undergarments. The sight of you barely clothed sends him into a frenzy, especially knowing it’s for his eyes only. You aid Hyunjae in pulling off his hoodie and yanking his sweatpants down his long legs. The minute most of your restrictions are gone, Hyunjae brings you closer to him. He hisses at the contact, the warmth of your cunt through your panties putting him under a spell.

You whimper when his touch travels down your front, sneaking into the waistband of your underwear. The pads of his middle and ring fingers apply the lightest amount of pressure onto your clit the second he finds it, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your nails on one hand dig into his shoulder while the other trails down his abdomen, rubbing up and down his length through his boxer briefs.

Hyunjae groans into your kiss and you gasp for air as you tear from him, resting your forehead on his to watch as you get each other off through your clothes. If earlier was something taken from one of your wet dreams, what did this constitute as? You clench around nothing when he pushes up into you, your wrists clashing. Knowing he was just as down bad for you as you were for him just made this all that much more real.

“I need to feel you around me,” he mumbles in your ear, dipping his fingers in and out of you languidly as if to explain what he meant. “Let me stretch you out.”

You nod in response, fumbling with his briefs. Hyunjae lifts his hips enough for you to help him out of them. You groan when he reveals his impressive size, wondering how exactly he expected you to take him. He pushes your panties to the side, mimicking the sound you just made when he sees your bare pussy drooling for him. You eventually get frustrated and line him up with your hole, sinking down in one fluid motion. A voluminous moan escapes from the back of your throat, his dick throbbing achingly inside of you. At first you stay still like that, your pelvises touching as you adjust to his length and girth.

“H-holy shit— you’re s-so deep, Jae,” you cry, resting your forehead against his yet again. He pecks your lips, holding onto your hips to help you bounce on his cock, practically impaling you every single time.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl,” Hyunjae grunts, the warmth of your walls drawing him in even further. “So tight, too.”

Your thighs begin to burn and your movements become slower, which he takes note of instantaneously. He bends his knees and forces your upper half impossibly closer to him, thrusting up into you. This new angle allows him to find that one spongy spot that has you seeing stars, fogging up your brain and even your vision.

You cast a downward glance at the minimal space between where the two of you are connected. Your moans and whines grow louder with the view of every thrust of his hips into yours. Hyunjae sneaks his hand in the middle of you, his fingers expertly toying with your clit. Any more stimulation and the band in your stomach is snapping.

You’ve had sex before. You’ve slept with a handful of other guys in the past, but nothing could ever compare to this moment. Your cunt had already memorized his size and every vein, effectively ruining the chances of any other man doing this with you. Lee Hyunjae had you in a chokehold whether he realized it or not. He had you wrapped around his finger without really trying, but you could never complain.

Your walls squeeze his cock and he knows he won’t last much longer, shutting his eyes tightly. “C’mon baby, you gonna cum for me?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, your skin flush on his own. “Wanna cum so bad for you, Hyunjae.”

“Yeah? Me too, sweetheart,” he pants, the thumb on your hip pressing against the bone. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside,” you babble. “Please, please. I want you to cum inside me, Hyunjae.”

He kisses you softly just then, swallowing your pretty moans with something completely opposite of what he’s already given you, and that’s what sends you spiraling, fluttering around him. He groans, spilling into you and letting you milk him dry of everything he has to offer, painting your insides just like you asked him to.

You lay like that for a while, Hyunjae’s dick still buried in you to the hilt. Both of you attempt to catch your breaths and bring yourselves down from the well-anticipated euphoric state you just visited. You giggle at the condensation coating the windows of his car, extending your arm to draw a heart and a smiley face with your finger. He slowly pulls himself out, hissing at the sensitivity, but doesn’t make a move to get you off of his chest.

Where do you go from here? A line had just been crossed and you weren’t entirely sure you knew what he wanted from you. It’s one thing to imagine kissing and fucking someone extensively. But it was another to actually want a tangible, romantic relationship from them, to actually capacitate feelings for them.

“I love you,”

You jolt up and stare at him with widened eyes. Did those words really just come out of his mouth? As if he can read your mind, he nods. There’s a dragged out sigh, followed by him sitting up slightly with you perched on his lap.

“I really do, Y/N. I’ve felt this way for years and I’m willing to do anything for you.” He admits, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You kiss him gently, the pad of your thumb swiping across his cheekbone.

“I love you, too.”

The Saturday after your night in Hyunjae’s car brought everything into perspective for you.

You hadn’t spoken to him since he dropped you off at your apartment and it was beginning to worry you. Even though you made sure he reciprocated your emotions, there still could’ve been a misunderstanding. Had you been too forward? Did you scare him away? Did something happen to him? Whatever the explanation was, you didn’t like the eerie feeling it started brewing in your stomach— it was foreboding.

In spite of not talking to them at all in what seemed to be a month or so, you tried calling each of your mutual friends to see if you could get some answers. Not even his roommates picked up their phones and this made you much more uneasy. You pace back and forth in your living room, nicking at your bottom lip with your nails. Why did he choose now of all times to ghost you? What went wrong?

Kevin comes out of his bedroom a couple minutes later, expecting to grab his morning coffee as usual. When he finds you nearly on the brink of insanity instead, he decides to intervene. He supposed his caffeine could wait until his best friend was calmed down. You jump in surprise, holding a fist to your chest. He raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, my bad. What’s up? Why do you look like you’re going through a quarter life crisis?” Kevin asks you, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Is everything okay?”

“I—“ you pause and take a deep breath. “I don’t know…”

His eyebrows furrow and he guides you to the sofa so you could sit down. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“Hyunjae hasn’t talked to me since Thursday night, after he brought me back here,” your voice is hoarser than you’d like it to be. “I-I texted and called him a bunch but he hasn’t replied. I even— I even tried Juyo, Sunwoo, and Changmin. No luck with them either. I’m concerned, Kev.”

Kevin combs through his hair, pursing his lips in thought. “Yeah, okay, I would be too. It's a little weird that none of them are responding. Have you thought of just showing up at his place to check in on him?”

You shake your head. “No, I didn’t want him to think I’m clingy and annoying in case he was there. What if he just wants to get me off of his back and he’s telling them to ignore me?”

“I don’t think that’s the case at all, Y/N,” your friend sighs, putting his glasses on top of his head and running a hand down his face. “Hyunjae has never been that kind of person in all the years we’ve known him. I highly doubt he’d switch up now. Plus, he’s literally crazy about you. I’m pretty sure the guy would move heaven and earth for you if he could. I think there’s a very real and genuine possibility that something is seriously wrong. It’s like— it’s just a gut feeling, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” If Kevin felt this way, too, that would only mean one thing, right? You had to get to the bottom of this. There was a chance that lives depended on it. A quick roll of your neck and you’re standing. “I’m gonna go over there. I can’t leave things unanswered. I can’t wait for a fucking news report.”

The ravenette pats the top of your head. “Be careful, N/N. Please.”

You give him a nod before you’re slipping into your shoes and grabbing his car keys. You’re not exactly dressed for a confrontation if there is one— clad in a pair of sweatpants, an oversized sweatshirt with your university’s crest on it, and socks with sandals— but you were too preoccupied to care.

The drive itself was mentally taxing, your brain dissociating most of the ride. You’re not sure how many of the lights you passed were actually green. The closer you got to Hyunjae’s apartment, the more that trepidation settling in your lower abdomen grew. Throughout your life, you’d never been the type of person who acted on instinct or had a nagging voice in the rear of your head warning you about situations you got into. You usually went with the flow and if you made a mistake, you allowed yourself to learn from it.

However, that was prior to being thrown into a period of uncertainty like this one. Now, all you could do was act on instinct. All you could do was listen to the stupid nagging voice in the rear of your head yelling at you. All you could do was follow the blaring alarms and caution signs in your field of vision. And this time they were almost deafening.

Kevin’s car rolls to a stop outside of Hyunjae’s building, occupying an empty spot three away from the front of the stairs. Your pulse races when you step out of the vehicle and immediately recognize the cars in the spaces beside yours. Hyunjae’s, Juyeon’s, and Changmin’s. You notice a thin layer of dirt caking Juyeon and Changmin’s, as if they’d remained unmoved for a long time. Perturbed wasn’t a big enough word to describe what was going through your mind.

Half of you was terrified to take a step towards the stairs, let alone ascend them to Hyunjae’s floor. What would go down when you reached his apartment? What would happen the moment that door opened?

You ball your hands into fists, the edges of your nails jabbing the skin of your palms. The pain steels you enough to move forward, walking up the stairs slowly. There’s a chill tiptoeing along your spine the whole trip up, like your body knew what you were getting yourself into before you did. Maybe you were stupid. Only an idiot would lead themselves blindly into a scenario without knowing the outcome.

It’s been minutes of you staring at the slightly rusted numbers on Hyunjae’s door before you register that you’re standing in front of it. If you're being honest, you have no idea what you’re doing. You were acting on autopilot— progressing without a thought of what’s coming next. A shuddered breath leaves your lips and you raise your knuckles to the door.

The first knock is too soft to hear if the inhabitants were in their bedrooms, so you apply more force the second time. The sound reverberates through the hall, a wince appearing on your features. If someone was inside, surely they had to have heard that one. You wait a little longer for the door to swing open and reveal one of your friends looking perfectly fine. For Juyeon to showcase that grin of his that reaches his eyes and ask what you were doing here. For Changmin to give you that sweet smile that puffed up his cheeks and ask what you needed. For Sunwoo to blow a raspberry before he laughed at how silly you were for stressing over them. For Hyunjae to reassure you that it was all going to be okay, that he loved you. You were praying for that.

But no one showed up on the other end of that doorway and you were stuck glaring at that same painted board of wood.

That’s what sends your instincts into overdrive. Your hand grabs the knob, twisting it just in case. It makes a full rotation, pushing open the door the tiniest bit. You peek inside carefully and find all the lights in the living room and kitchen off. Your teeth bite down on your lip as you enter the apartment. One of the things you hated about it, was the annoying buzz of the fluorescent lights in their bathroom. And for some reason, that was all that infiltrated your ears.

The door for said bathroom was cracked just a tad at the end of the hallway, but what caught your attention was the room closest to you— also cracked the most miniscule amount. You see light filtering through, an almost orange glow like that of a desk lamp. Your stupidity would be your downfall, you conclude, your feet gravitating to the room. It’s Hyunjae’s you recall when you’re outside of it. They always say curiosity killed the cat, and you couldn’t help but revert to a feline and nudge it open with your foot.

You really wished that saying was just that— a saying.

Eric sits ahead of you, tied to a chair in the middle of the room. There’s a piece of fabric gagging his mouth and his clothes are tattered, blood staining nearly every inch. A long gash runs along his left bicep and a myriad of smaller cuts litter his face and arms. What your focus lands on first are the several deep stab wounds on his thighs.

A hand comes up to cup your mouth to keep yourself from screaming at the sight of your best friend in this position. He struggles against his restraints, muffled cries for your assistance shattering your heart into a thousand pieces like broken shards of glass. Tear streaks mixed with dried blood cover the apples of his cheeks.

“Oh my god, Eric,” your voice wobbles as you scramble to free him. “Oh my god…”

You pull down the fabric in his mouth first and he gasps for air. His eyes widen at something behind you and he warns, “Y/N—!” before he’s interrupted by your yelp. The person pressed into your back has their arm around your neck with a hold tight enough that you can’t escape, but loose enough that you can breathe, the blunt edge of a knife grazing the column of your throat.

“Tsk tsk, Youngjae. You should know that making so much noise when your killer’s not in the room just alerts them of suspicious activity. That’s survival 101, my friend. Isn’t that right, sweet sweet Y/N?”

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Please, let her go, Hyunjae.” Eric begs. Hyunjae hums, nuzzling his nose in your hair. He rolls his eyes and scoffs after inhaling your scent, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“God, you’re a mouthy one. Not even Juyeon and Sunwoo were this chatty when I slit their throats— then again, it's not like they could talk much anyway.” He snorts.

You felt sick. You were lightheaded now, just at the thought of your friends gone. “W-why are you doing this?”

Hyunjae grumbles, pouting his lips. “Time for me to unravel my evil villain monologue, huh?” He slips a hand under your sweatshirt and pinches the side of your waist. “Well here it is; what you’re dying to know. The first incident was by complete accident, we were simply having a discussion about why he shouldn’t have been staring at your ass while his girlfriend was next to him at Jeong Jaehyun’s end of summer bonfire. The dude got pissed off that I called him out and tried to start a fight, but I shoved him so hard, he fell and hit his head on a rock. I just couldn’t find it in myself to feel bad about it so I left him there like nothing. From then on, anyone who came between us or remotely hurt you in any way wound up on the receiving end of this knife. Funny isn’t it? How you’re the one beneath it this time?”

It all began to fall into place once he laid the cards out on the table for you to read. The guy you ran into Tuesday after class. Poor Kim Mingyu, who just wanted to pass his English final. Your friends not picking up their phones. And supposedly it was all in the name of love.

“Y-you did that for me?”

“Of course, baby,” Hyunjae mutters into the shell of your ear. “I said I’d protect you didn’t I? I just want you all to myself.”

“What the fuck does that possessive bullshit have to do with me? What did it have to do with Juyo or Changmin or Sunwoo?” Eric cries. “Oh god, what about—?”

“Sangyeon, Hoon, Chanhee, Hak? Yeah, those four were taken care of way before my own roommates. You, obviously, were the chosen one this go around. Then it would be Kevin and lastly, Jacob. I planned on stopping after you three unless absolutely necessary.”

“How is any of this fucking necessary? You’re psychotic,” the blonde exclaims, still wriggling in his restraints. “Why would Y/N want you after all of this? Did you really believe she’d never find out about what you’ve done?”

Hyunjae glides the smooth edge of the blade against your skin and releases you from his grip, but takes a hold of your wrist, placing the handle in your grasp. He urges you forward, closer to Eric. “If she was scared of me, don’t you think she would’ve tried harder to escape me? Didn’t even blink when I held the knife to her neck.”

The brunette kisses your temple and you watch the fear in Eric’s eyes morph into defeat. “After everything we’ve been through? I’ve known you since eighth grade, Y/N. Eighth fucking grade. And this is how it ends?”

“H-he loves me,” you stutter, glancing at Hyunjae. “Don’t you?”

“You don’t kill your best friends out of love, Y/N! He’s insane! Please, don’t let him get into your head. You’re not that kind of person.” Eric attempts to reason.

Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you were. Who knows? That didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that Hyunjae loved you. He loved you so much that he’d kill for you. Over and over and over again.

It was kind of comical that you loved him all the same. You, too, would kill for him. Over and over and over again.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[dunmeshistash]

I can’t find it now, but you had a post about Kabru being high-masking, and you said you didn’t think he was, which is completely fair! I had a different opinion as someone who is high-masking AuDHD and wanted to share (but of course now I can’t find the post 9_9)

Personally, I read Kabru as being high masking autistic, with one critical difference between us: he’s an extrovert. I’m actually more like Milsiril than Kabru - I collect/make dolls, I’d rather be at home than anywhere else, I’ve been called creepy and weird and gloomy for all of those things, but I also learned how to mask relatively early on, so most people don’t ever get to see that side of me. For me it’s a lot of work and energy- most of the time. If I’m around people I like, it’s less so, but people in general take a lot of my energy. Kabru, on the other hand, is very extroverted. He gets a lot of energy from interacting with people, and for the most part his personality and interests are acceptable to the society he lives in. BUT his interest in dissecting people’s motivations and how they communicate and interact and how to move them in the direction he wants them to go, that’s considered overly intense and creepy even by his party. Kabru keeps a lot of his thoughts and honest reactions internal because he’s aware of how people interact and what is or isn’t acceptable. I do the same thing, and I engage in a fair bit of “manipulation” (neutral) as part of my masking - I know that asking people for advice, showing interest in their lives, complaining together about things, etc, will cause them to view me more favorably and I use that to keep myself “safe”, along with basically never talking about my interests. I’m friendly and open and helpful and I almost never fight back against anything, so people “like” me. It’s not all *fake*, but it’s not the whole truth either. I’d rather not engage in conversation at all, because I can’t talk honestly about my interests without being considered creepy- but if Kabru’s special interest is people and how they interact, to some degree he can talk about his interests without it seeming weird.

Anyways, that’s my perspective :D also thank you for being a Milsiril defender, it’s… really painful to see people calling her manipulative and superior. I know a lot of it is bc ppl DO NOT understand anyone who likes dolls as an adult but like….. liking dolls has less than nothing to do with “needing to feel superior” or in control -_-

Hello!! I collect dolls too!!! Proud to be nº1 Milsiril defender.

That's an interesting perspective! As far as I understand (I'm autistic too so I don't have personal experience to how allistic people work) everyone does some amount of masking, as in everyone has a version of themselves they use to interact with others and that "mask" usually falls when you're with people who know and understand you better

As I understand that type of mask is expected in society? Like you wont act at work the same way you do with your college friends (usually). But as some tumblr post said "we are the mask and the wearer" as in those masks are still a part of who they are.

That's why I said I didn't think Kabru was high masking, I hadn't heard that term before so I was confused

Maybe I don't fully get it but keeping some parts of yourself inside and not expressing it to people who wont understand is common among allistic and autistic people but masking is this but in a way more stressful way? Since you aren't just hiding facets of who you are you're making an active effort to hide the whole thing basically.

Kabru's mask seems to come easily to him and it doesn't seem like he makes an conscious effort to go against his nature to hide who he is that's why I said he probably doesn't do high masking in that sense. But in another sense he IS highly adaptable to the people around him and studies how people act so I understand that perspective! It's more of a personal interpretation tbh.

[sunshine-theseus]

Fantastic Mr Fox | Aggie Beever-Jones x reader

Word Count: 2.1k Summary: she's a cute girl and has impeccable movie taste Warnings: injuries, nothing else really. guys i love fantastic mr fox and wes anderson films, i have since i was like 4, so i love this fic. Request for - @realsociadadferminofan

Finally joining a team after being in their academy was something so unnecessarily terrifying. Joining a team after being in their rival’s academy, was possibly 10x worse.

Joining Chelsea from the Arsenal W.F.C. Academy was somewhat of an ultimate act of treason. I got DMs from Arsenal fans insulting me and calling me a traitor, ‘you’re not good enough anyway’. DMs from Chelsea fans were predominantly kinder, but I did receive a few ‘you don’t deserve to be here’ messages.

I had been sent on loan to Chelsea last season, straight out of the academy, which had been more accepted because it was seen as something I didn’t have a choice in. Now that I had officially signed with the Blues? Life was harder than it should be. I’m not particularly close with anyone yet, not thinking I was going to be staying around long enough for them to matter, and I’m having to compete to even play because of the diverse skills and experience of our players.

I met Aggie on the first day of training. I wasn’t expecting the number of new players that had joined me in signing over the summer or after the World Cup, and it was severely intimidating.

The person I could claim to be the closest to, was Niamh, which in turn meant I was some-what friends with Jessie, but the roommates had yet to arrive by the time I walked into the locker room, searching for my locker and number which had now been changed due to the apparent must for Mia Fishel to be 2 if she signed. I think I cried about it the day I found out. I had been number 2 since I was 4, clumsily kicking a ball around on horrid grass under gloomy skies, and I was forced to just give it away.

“You’re not number 2?” an unknown voice perks up beside me as I plonk down at my new cubby, the number ‘32’ looming over my head.

I turn to my left, and see a rather well put together blond, lacing up her boots. A new face, but seemingly kind. I tilt my head to the side as she looks up, having not answered the question.

“Sorry, I’ve followed you for a while. You’re always 2, aren’t you? You were last season.”

“Oh… I had to um, give it up. Mia made it a requirement to be number 2 if she signed. Didn’t even give me an option.”

“That’s pretty unfair, it’s special to you. I’m Agnes by the way. Everyone calls me Aggie.” She reaches out her hand for me to shake, which I gently do.

“Like from Fantastic Mr Fox! I’m Y/N.” I smile softly at her as I lace up my own boots.

“You know Fantastic Mr Fox?”

“It’s the best movie ever!”

“Right?!” she then pauses.

“Hey, so I don’t really know anyone here… could I stick with you?” Aggie rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet as she asks the question.

“For sure! I’m not super close with anyone yet, well I’m sort of close with Niamh and Jessie, but I’d love to stick together.” I hop up from my seat and begin to walk along side Aggie as we approach the field, the meeting room seemingly deserted to instead focus on introduction games that tie to our warmup.

~~~~~

It takes a month for me to realise I have a crush on Aggie. Neither of us having anything to do during the October/November international break except train while ¾ of the squad were out, meant a lot of time pretty much one on one. I tell Niamh straight away, the girl having become somewhat of a big sister to me, and she laughs and tells me most of the team already figured.

“Emma loves pairing you up to watch you stumble and blush.”

“What the fuck?!” the call doesn’t last much longer, as Aggie comes to collect me for our gym session, in which I am a very poor spotter for the girl as I gawk and blush as she rolls up her sleeves and lifts the weights.

~~~~~

Now a month after that, I’m sitting out altogether due to spraining my calcaneal tendon in the Champions League game against Madrid.

“This fucking suucks. Fuck Athenea. We were going to play our first ever game at Stamford Bridge together” Aggie pouts, leaning of the fence as I hobble into the seats behind the subs bench, plopping down next to Millie and Guro.

“I know. You have to score for me pretty please. And do a knee slide and give a heart when you get it.” I gingerly smile at her, and she dramatically rolls her eyes.

“Your wish is my command princess.” She jokingly gives a bow.

My mouth gaps open and closed and I feel my face burn as it’s overcome by a deep shade of red. Aggie chuckles and says goodbye before she heads back to the locker room, getting ready to start the game.

“You are down so fucking bad.” Millie teases and Guro hums in agreement.

“Am not!”

“She called you princess and you malfunctioned. It’s like your brain shuts down. You should ask her out.”

“What?! No way! She does not like me back.” The captain and the Norwegian stare at me, blinking once as their mouths drop open, scarily in sync.

“Man, if you can’t see how much she likes you, there is no hope.” Guro chuckles and turns back to the game that’s about to start.

Aggie scores in the 23rd minute. A pass from LJ sets her up and she easily puts the ball in the net. And as promised, she smoothly slides on her knees, making a heart with her hands as she glides along. She moves to take her place as they set up to start again but stops briefly and points to me with a toothy grin. It’s a small gesture to show who the goal was for, and I make a little heart in return.

“Okay! I’m fucked! Millie what do I do?” I frantically turn to the girls next to me as the whistle blows, the game continuing.

“You have to sweet talk her and like offer her your jacket or something. Honestly, she already likes you so don’t change your personality. That’s important. You got that? No changing yourself.” Millie pokes my chest.

“Aye aye captain.” I solute her before Guro adds on.

“And when you ask her out on a date, make sure it’s something you’ll both actually enjoy. Like you both love that weird fox movie, so watch that together or something.”

“Fantastic Mr Fox is much more than ‘that weird fox movie’. It’s the pinnacle of film. Wes Anderson is a fucking genius.” Guro raises her hand in fake surrender.

“Sorry.”

“But you’re right, that is a great idea. W- when do I ask her?”

“After the game.” The two older women simultaneously stress that it’s imperative I do it soon.

We win 5-1, and I rush as quickly as one can with crutches, onto the pitch to congratulate the team. I hug Niamh and LJ, talk to Emma, meet pretty much everyone, before I get to Aggie. She stands off to the side, talking to Sam and Guro, the latter spotting me and pulling Sam away to talk to god knows where.

Aggie is conveniently missing a jacket, so as I approach her, I shed my own and hold it out to her.

“You’re going to freeze.” She refuses, but I push it toward her again.

“Aggie, you’re shivering, take the coat.” Her fingers graze gently against mine and my stomach swells, my breath hitches.

“Thanks.”

“Hey… would you, maybe, you can say no, like to, I don’t know-”

“Spit it out.” She nudges me and giggles.

“Do you want to go on a date?” I rush out, avoiding looking her in the eyes, fearful of her rejection.

It’s silent. Well Aggie is silent.

“Forget i-”

“Yes. I really would like to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. What did you have in mind?”

~~~~~

“Now I've already had too much to drink, and I'm feeling sentimental, but I'm going to say something anyway, which nobody wants to admit, but I think is probably true: we beat 'em.” I glance at Aggie out of the corner of my eye, and I catch her wiping away a tear.

“Are you crying?”

“Nuh uh.”

“I cry 90% of the time during this speech it’s ok.” My hand inches toward Aggie’s that rests between us.

“It’s not even inherently sad Y/n. I’m just a baby.” She pouts at me as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

I take her hand, slotting my fingers between her’s. I wait for her to retract but she squeezes my hand, running her thumb against the back of it. I then turn my head, my eyes meeting her’s. The hazy blue irises bore into my own, drawing me closer. My other hand lifts to hold her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” Aggie nods once and I lean in, our lips locking in a gentle kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” her warm breath hits my lips, our foreheads pressed together. I respond by kissing her again.

~~~~~

We walk into training together. Not an unusual sight. The only difference is the short kiss we share before I turn on my crutches to head to the physio to have a check-up on my ankle. I’m stopped as I reach the locker-room doorway.

“No fucking way! You did it!” Millie comes barrelling toward me, wrapping an arm loosely around my neck in a headlock and ruffling my hair with the other.

I hear Aggie laugh and I jokingly glare back at her.

“Yes I did. Thanks to you. And Guro giving me the date idea by dissing Fantastic Mr Fox.”

“Guro what?!” Aggie exclaims. I smile and bid her goodbye.

~~~~~

“YOU’RE BACK!” I stumble as I catch Aggie on my back, the girls around us smiling and giggling as Emma sends a playful glare.

“Miss me? I was only gone a week.” Emma quickly separates us into pairs for a training exercise.

“More like forever. Why does your extended family live in Glasgow?” She takes a hold of my hand as we wait to be given a ball.

“My abuelita loves you if that makes you feel any better. And she’s never met you. It took her months to warm up to my sister’s husband.”

“Mmm, that does make me feel better, but a kiss would definitely help.” She perks her lips and I lean on my tippy toes to press my lips to her’s.

“Get a room!” Niamh calls out from across the field and I blush, hiding my face in Aggie’s neck as she wraps an arm around me. Everyone laughs before Emma sternly tells us to focus.

~~~~~

The time is slowly running out, we’re tied 1-1 and I get subbed on for Sam, joining Aggie on the front line. The 20 or so seconds tick down on the big screen as I run down the pitch, chasing Aggie, calling for the ball. She takes a shot on the goal but I notice the ball veering off course and rush forward. I jump, head making contact with the ball and body making contact with the goalkeeper before I fall to the ground.

I hear the crowd cheer but don’t move. My head aches but pain radiates across my shoulder and down my back. The whistle doesn’t blow even as I cry out, only once the final seconds pass. I feel hands pat my head, assuming I’m just exhausted. I eventually hear Aggie’s distinct voice break through the rest of the noise.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP THE GAME? SHE DIDN’T GET UP SO YOU STOP THE GAME!” there are waves of outraged voices that echo around me, but I can’t do anything but cry and whisper Aggie’s name.

I begin to assess myself as I wait for someone, anyone, to come help. I can feel everything, but it hurts, I can move my fingers and my toes. My breathing is a little rough and my vision is blurred by my tears. I feel someone kneel beside me.

“Hey, hey I’m here are you ok?” I expect to hear my girlfriend’s voice but it’s Ann-Katrin.

“It all hurts. W- where’s Aggie.” I groan out as she strokes my hair out of my face.

“She’s coming. She was having a word with the ref. Asshole tried to card her. The medics and Emma are coming too.”

It takes forever to be assessed, and then I’m carried out on a backboard, Aggie holding my hand as we walk through the halls.

“Are you ok? Are you sure? Do you need anything?” She spits out question after question and I smile up at her.

“I’m okay, I’ve got you.”

“You really are a quote-unquote fantastic fox.” She grins at me and leans down to kiss my forehead.

“I want to quote Fantastic Mr Fox with you all the time.”

“You will. Once you fucking stop getting hurt.”

[sophswritingthings]

SIXTH PART LOL 😸😸😸

So now the reader and Mizu are so well Acquainted that soon they get married to each other but it was literally just a small wedding and when i say small I mean Mizu proposes and says some sappy stuff and Reader says something sappy as well and then they call it a day. (MIZU AND READER DESERVES A BEAUTIFUL WEDDING IMO).

Mizu is out doing whatever and reader is at home making dinner and BAM someone breaks in again (Girly needs better security honestly 🤨🤨) and she goes straight for the kill with her ninja stars and Kunais but the guy is really good at dodging them and goes like "all that training and you still can't throw properly" and shown to be her dad and she starts to fight him and asks why he's here and he says he's here to collect Mizu for her bounty and reader ain't letting that slide.

They start to fight and reader has the upper hand during the first part of the fight, but then her dad pulls a quick one and starts to talk about how her siblings are all dead and it's her fault and she starts to cry and gets pinned against the wall (Via neck btw) and Mizu comes home to seeing reader crying and pinned against the wall.

Readers dad comes for Mizu and an epic showdown happens and Mizu wins ofc but reader is left crying on the ground and cue a fluffy scene where Mizu kisses readers head and comforts her (via pulling her to a hug and into her lap while reader cries abt her siblings).

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader

warning(s): blood, injury, swearing

a/n: damn reader is just getting SLAMMED. also yes, she very much needs better security 😭

summary: the ask summarizes it I’d say

word count: 977 words / 5,291 characters 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the two of you were taking a walk, along the mountains, hands clasped together—like you'd never let go. little did you know… that was the plan.

mizu stopped in her tracks.

you paused, turning around to face her.

“uh, mizu? Is something wrong?”

no, nothing was wrong. 

she grabbed one of your hands again, rubbing her fingers over your knuckles. you continued to look at her, confused by her behavior. 

“we’ve been seeing each other for a while, now, (y/n),” she murmured, glancing up from your hands. “if this were.. traditional, we would be considered married.”

your eyes widened. was she really…

“I wanted to know, if we possibly.. could, be married.” she said rather bluntly, “I love you, (y/n), more than I have ever loved anyone. If you would accept my hand, in marriage, that would make me happier than I have ever been.”

you were close to tears, at this point. hearing her proclamation of love for you, it warmed your heart.

“yes,” you whispered. “yes—I love you, mizu, I really do. I’ve never loved someone so much,” you rest your forehead against hers. “but it isn’t like we can have a ceremony.”

she nods a little, holding your waist. “this is enough for me. we don’t need anything special… just to call you my wife is enough.”

you're humming softly, making you and your wife dinner. she was out, probably trying to collect information again—usually that came up with nothing—and you were waiting for her to return.

knock.

Knock.

KNOCK.

the beating got progressively louder, sitting off a red alert in your head. you grabbed your stars and kunai's, ready to protect yourself.

wasn’t the first time you had to do so..

as the man burst through the door; you couldn’t see his face. his face was concealed, and he was dressed in all black. you had no clue who he was; but he was going down.

you begin to toss your weapons at him, trying to either pin him or kill him, at worst. 

he laughs, a big bellowed laugh, dodging each and every one, “all that training and you still can’t throw properly, can you?”

you stop in your tracks as he tossed off his mask. your eyes widen, your eyes wide—they begin to sparkle with tears. a man you feared so very much; he'd shown up at your doorstep.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask, your voice raspy with emotion.

“I am here to collect the onryō that resides here,” he takes a pace toward you. “I know you're hiding him, little flower. I am here to collect him for a bounty. where is he?”

your eyes narrowed to slits, “you mean my husband?” you grumble, “yeah, I don’t think so.”

he scoffs, “husband? i always knew you were a fucking idiot, but this? marrying an onyrō? I thought you were at least better than that, little flower.”

you launch yourself at him, knocking him off his feet. you tussle and tumble for a few moments, knocking over flowers and vases along the way.

“your siblings are gone, and it is all your goddamn fault. and now.. married to a demon?” he scoffed. you stopped. you were holding his collar, a kunai pointed at his throat. “they died. they're all fucking dead, because of you. after you ran away; they had no one to protect them.. their big sister abandoned them, and they died in your wake.”

you shook your head, your entire body shaking as you began  to cry.

“I-it isn’t my fault, y-you—“

“trying to pin this on your father? how pathetic,” he pushed you to wall, pushing a kunai through the skin of your throat.

you cried out in pain; pinned to the wall with a kunai through your neck—

“now where is the onryō?” he hissed.

“onryō? I’m right here.”

your eyes snap open as you hear mizu's voice, a small ensemble of relief washing over you.

“ah, there you are,” he released his grip from you, turning to face mizu. “prepare to die.”

“prepare to die?“ she scoffed, tossing off her overcoat, hat and glasses. “I’ve been prepared to die since the day I was born, do you seriously think I am scared of the idea?”

mizu reached for her katana, unsheathing the sword in one fell swoop. she narrowed her eyes, gazing at your father.

“I think it is you who should be prepared,” she hissed. “you were dead the minute you laid a hand on my wife.”

he lunged at mizu, his blade attempting to slice her waist, but she was too quick—she moved with speed and stealth, her moves unable to be accounted for.

he turned on his heels, yet another attempt to slide her in half—but to no avail. he missed once more, and this time, mizu grabbed her sword—sweeping past his waist in one precise, clean cut as she moved past him.

he stopped moving.

his body fell limp.

you watched the scene unfold; your father's body falling into two halves, blood gushing from both sides.

mizu turned to you in an instant, pulling the kunai from your neck. you cried out in pain, falling into her arms, sobbing.

she moves you to the floor, pulling you into her lap in a tight hug.

“It’s okay.. it’s okay,” she whispered, brushing her hand through your hair. “he's not something you have to worry about ever again.”

“I-it’s all my fault,” you whimper. “t-they’re all dead because of me, mizu.”

“no. no, don’t think like that, my love,” she hissed. “it isn’t your fault. It’s that monsters fault. and he’s dead; you can rest now.”

you nodded, burying your head in her neck.

she kissed the top of your head, pulling you into a tighter hug. she never wanted to let you be hurt ever again—

—and she wouldn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: the mizu gifs are killing me bro. SHES SO HOT

[writing-for-life]

Sandman Predictions

So we’ve been speculating wildly what the remainder of The Sandman might look like on here and in our community (join us!) for a while.

And I thought it would be fun to put my predictions to paper (so to speak) so I can be embarrassed about them later and laugh at how wrong they were 🙈

Taking all the casting announcements and BTS in consideration I’ve collected like a magpie (check out my #sandman S2 tag), I will have a stab at it…

Only 12 Episodes or Aiming for Renewal?

Both is possible, but I am more and more leaning we’ll get the whole thing in twelve episodes in two batches of five each with two wraparound episodes (one will be AGoY/THCoL in the middle, one the last three issues of The Wake).

We know the episode names for six episodes that are directed by Jamie Childs. That doesn’t mean they were in order, or that there won’t be other directors involved. It wouldn’t surprise me if they at least went for female writers/directors for AGoY/THCoL, and if that’ll be the episode that separates (or rather connects) SoM and Brief Lives. So here comes my totally unhinged prediction for 12 episodes, including the titles we know (mind you, they might also be working titles). The chapters from the comics are to be seen as fluid and not absolute, because there are a lot of scenes that are not linear in chronological terms and will probably be shuffled around a bit:

Batch One

“More Devils Than Vast Hell Can Hold” (that title is a direct quote from AMND): A Midsummer Night’s Dream, SoM Prologue & Tales in the Sand flashback

“Season of Mists”: SoM ch. 1-3, ch. 4 is getting dropped

“The Ruler of Hell”: SoM ch. 5 through Epilogue

TBA: AGoY & THCoL “Brief Lives”: Thermidor and Brief Lives ch. 1-3

“Brief Lives”: Brief Lives ch. 1-5 “The Song of Orpheus”: Brief Lives ch. 4-6 and The Song of Orpheus segueing into

“The Song of Orpheus”: Brief Lives ch. 6. Bast is an excellent cut to SoO. Thermidor will also be in there. “Family Blood”: Brief Lives ch. 7-9

Batch Two

“Family Blood”: Brief Lives ch. 7-9 TBA: TKO ch. 1-4

TBA: TKO ch. 1-4 TBA: TKO ch. 5-7

TBA: TKO ch. 5-8 TBA: TKO ch. 8-10

TBA: TKO ch. 11-13

TBA: The Wake (all of it apart from…)

TBA: Sunday Mourning/Exiles/The Tempest

Edit 19/09:

[strikeouts in text done on same day]

So I’ve read The High Cost of Living again over the past few days because it didn’t want to leave me alone, and I’ve now convinced myself we’ll get it as a side-plot to Brief Lives in episodes 4-6, and that we’ll get tiny bits of AGoY, (mostly to set up Wanda/Ruby for Brief Lives and Hazel/Foxglove for THCoL) as a side plot to SoM in episodes 1-3. Spoilers ahead, so skip if that’s not your thing:

Both Sexton and Orpheus have a death wish. I don’t want to drag this out too much because the post is long enough as it is, but suffice it to say, Sexton rethinks after spending a day with Didi/Death, while Orpheus is granted his wish. And this is what ultimately sets Morpheus on his own path. The meaning of “So live” would be beautifully contrasted that way because it has different meaning to different people, depending on their own experience. Add to that Death spending a “brief life” for one day herself, and I can somewhat see the vision.

Failing this, THCoL could also be a special in episode 13 that hasn’t been announced yet (I’d rather have Overture though if I’m honest).

In more detail:

A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest will be bookends, one before SoM, one after The Wake (they don’t necessarily have to be full episodes, they could be half each and make up roughly an hour combined. It really depends on overall runtime).

We’ll kick off batch one with Season of Mists (maybe the prologue and will also be in episode 1–there are several points in AMND that would make good cuts into SoM), and Tales in the Sand won’t be a full episode but incorporated as flashbacks (maybe around the family dinner). After we conclude SoM, we’ll get one episode of AGoY will be a side-plot to SoM, as per above (if it happens at all), and leads into THCoL as a side-plot to Brief Lives as per my edit above, because there’s a through-line in there for Fox and Hazel, plus we can set up Wanda/Ruby for Brief Lives.

Bonus 1:

Johanna will be somehow involved in SoM (she’s the Hellblazer after all), and we’ll get her to hook up with Murphy. No need for a longwinded introduction of Thessaly. Or, failing that, we just cut out the love interest completely, Morpheus does his moping session because Nada rebuffs him again, but Jo will still take Thessaly’s place as the crone.

We’ll move into roughly three episodes of Song of Orpheus/Thermidor and Brief Lives from there. Wanda will die in Brief Lives like Ruby, not in AGoY.

We finish the first batch with Morpheus alone on his chair after you-know-what 😩

Second batch: TKO and The Wake. Little bits of World’s End will be woven in where it fits, maybe already in the first batch as well. Same goes for little bits of standalone issues from Fables and Reflections.

Jo will take Thessaly’s place and protect Lyta because she’d just believe it’s the right thing to do (she also sympathises because she lost Astra). Whether she also holds a deeper grudge depends on if they set them up as having an affair or not.

My guess is four episodes TKO and one for the Wake. Sunday Mourning and Exiles will be done in one episode. The movie concept art that Jill Thompson did ages ago showed Daniel in the distance on the beach with the other three, and I think that’s a good tie-in point to lead into Exiles. Even the Tempest might fit in there if they make the last episode more feature-length. And you’ve got your two Shakespeare bookends.

Bonus 2:

Hob will be reinstalled to his narrative purpose because at least half the fandom will drop him like a hot potato and ship Morpheus x Cluracan instead. Because:

If you think 12 episodes are tight: Yes, if you want to see every detail and issue of the comics. But not everything you see in a graphic novel translates well to screen, plus you don’t perceive time the same way. What takes ages to read can be something like 30 seconds in a film. Add to this that the movie that never happened was conceptualised as a trilogy if I’m not mistaken, so probably 6-8 hours planned runtime in total. So they always had a definite idea how to streamline it, and they were planning for it before. 12 episodes with 45 to 60min each give us more to play with than a movie-trilogy (plus we can already take the time off that we spent on S1). I think it’s doable, but of course it means tightening arcs and dropping stuff.

However, I’ll be honest with you: With all that’s been going on, and having seen that they filmed right through until the end, I’d rather have them wrap up now. Because I honestly can’t see a S3 happening after all that’s already been cancelled and put on hold because of you-know-what (I’m thinking of Disney shelving The Graveyard Book and Amazon putting GO on hold and sitting on the Audible despite it being finished).

But also: These decisions have likely been made long before these considerations even became an issue: Renewal was on a knife’s edge, and choices were made back then we can only guess at. Scripts aren’t written over night, neither are sets changed around wildly on a whim (plus actors aren’t just tied to one project and can’t just willy-nilly change their schedules). And some sets for TKO were already confirmed and booked in May. So they were always going to do what we’ve seen in BTS shots. It’s not a sudden development.

In any case: If they aimed for more seasons than two, I think this prediction could still hold in general, we’ll just get it more fleshed out. In that case, I’d say 10 episodes of SoM and Brief Lives (5 each), and A Midsummer Night’s Dream and THCoL as standalones with the rest as side-plots woven in (that includes AGoY). Then S3 comprising TKO and The Wake with more space for standalone episodes and World’s End. Maybe even Overture as a special. I very much doubt they would go for more than three seasons in total though.

So these are my predictions, now I’d love to hear yours…

[siriusleee]

For @glitterypirateduck's Call of Duty Christmas Special. Author's Note: For the holiday season, I wanted to write some things for some of my mutuals I've met the past year I've had my blog. This is for @victoria-writes-sometimes, who is busy grading, but hopefully not too busy. Also, can anyone tell my favorite genre is two lonely people who live next door to each other? Christmas Movie: Home Alone

“You’re going to break your neck.”

You ignore the gruff voice that floats over to you in the cool air. Precariously, you drape yourself over the fire escape of your little flat, wrapping Christmas lights around the iron bars. 

“Are you even allowed to do that?”

“Probably not,” you finally answer, pushing yourself back onto firm feet. “But who cares? They’re not going to evict me.”

Simon Riley watches you from his own fire escape, cigarette held loosely in his fingers. You watch him from the corner of your eye - if you try to study the little bit of his face that peeks out between the black hood of his jacket, and the medical mask you never catch him without, he’ll leave. It had taken weeks to figure out his name, only learning it after there was a flood in his apartment and you tried to get ahold of him while he was gone to tell him. 

You’ve lived beside him for three years, five months, and seventeen days and so far this has been the longest conversation the two of you have ever had. 

“I can come decorate your fire escape if you want.”

“I’d rather not - thanks.”

You cut your eyes at him, lowering yourself into the little folding chair you keep outside. Simon twirls the cigarette between two fingers; you catch the edge of a tattoo on his wrist. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to Mr. Scrooge?”

“Only the same people that have said you look like the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

The silence lapses into a chilly mass around the two of you - you’re the first to give up from the chill of the chair underneath you. You don’t say good-bye, but you feel Simon’s eyes on you the entire time you clamber through the window into your kitchen, the pane slamming shut with a rattle behind you. 

The next day you’re awoken by Simon’s front door shutting heavily - the tell-tale sign that he’s leaving again.

You had tried to find a rhythm to the weeks he’d be gone, but there never was one. Sometimes it was just a few days before he’d come back home, the door shutting gently behind him. Other times the weeks would stretch into months before the sounds of him coming home in the middle of the night would wake you up again. The next day he’d ignore you when you popped onto the fire escape to drink your coffee before work, the menthol of his cigarette smoke enveloping you. 

You keep watch over his place for him - nothing the two of you had discussed before, but something you’d fallen into each time he left. Collect mail, run the stray cats and raccoons from the fire escape, and watch for flyers shoved in the door. 

December slips by languidly. You wait for the day Simon comes back home, but he surprises you, his normal midnight arrival changed. You shuffle the keys to your door, hands filled with wrapping paper, and drop the keys into a pile at your feet. 

Annoyed, you bend down to scoop them up, but a pair of rough hands snag them from the worn down laminate before you can get there. 

“Buy out the entire store?”

You’re not in the mood today, but you bite back the sarcastic comment that sits on the back of your tongue as Simon unlocks your front door for you, dropping your keys back into your hand.

“Just trying to get ready for Christmas you know.”

Something in your tone must catch his attention because he doesn’t leave you standing at the doorway like usual. Instead, he hovers over you, arms crossed.

“Everything alright?”

In the dim hallway light, you take the moment to study the lines on Simon’s forehead, the slouch of his shoulders as he tries to make himself smaller in the narrow space, and the urge to tell him about everything: the work stress, the sink in your kitchen that refuses to stop dripping, the pounding headache that’s been building for the past two weeks behind your eyes. 

Instead, you shake your head and duck into your apartment. 

“Just tired. Goodnight.”

The door swings shut, and you stay poised on the other side, watching the shadow of Simon beneath the door until finally it moves, his front door slamming shut just moments after. 

You try not to think about what Simon could be doing in his apartment as you pad around yours, the headache still pressing against your eyes. You leave everything piled on the end of the couch as you lay down on the other end; for the first time since you put it up, the Christmas tree is turned off, the multi-colored lights making your headache worse. 

Macaulay Culkin laughs on the television as a paint can slams into Ron Weasley’s dad’s head - a timid knock breaks through the sound of Home Alone. You push yourself off of the couch, pinching the bridge of your nose to try to alleviate the pressure. 

The door swings open easily, and you squint against the light to see Simon standing there, a plastic bag held loosely in his hand. The smell of Indian wafts up to you from the styrofoam inside. 

“Can I help you Simon?” Your voice is flat, but that doesn’t deter him from holding out the bag toward you.

“I ordered too much; figure you might be hungry.”

You know it’s a lie - in all the time the two of you have lived beside each other, you’ve not once seen Simon come in with a takeaway or a delivery dropped off at his front door. But you don’t want to pull too hard at that thread.

You step to the side, making room for Simon to step past you; he smells like pine and metal mixed with laundry detergent. You follow him to the kitchen, standing awkwardly as he pulls the takeaway containers from the bags, feeling useless as you watch him organize everything. You get the feeling that he’s fussing so much with the food from the awkwardness of standing in your kitchen, so you leave to move everything off of the couch and make room for him.

He brings you a plate- it feels awfully domestic in a way that you could get used to; his hands are empty as he lowers himself down onto the end of the couch, crunched against the armrest as far away from you as physically possible. 

“Why’d you bring me dinner?” You ask, hurrying to cover the weird tone of voice when you see Simon cut his eyes at you, “Not that I’m not appreciative, but -”

You don’t know what to say, so you trail the sentence off, stirring the sauce of your butter chicken into the rice. Simon shifts minutely, eyes cast back to the television. 

“Just looked like you had a shit day.”

The awkwardness slips into comfort as the two of you watch Home Alone, and you finish eating, but before you get the courage to ask another question, Simon pushes himself up. 

“Anyway, I hope you’re feeling better.”

You set your plate down on the floor, standing up to follow after him to the doorway. He pauses in the hallway as you watch him leave, half leaning out through the door. 

“Thank you!” You shout out, before his door shuts behind him, feeling silly at the entire situation. 

You can hear him move around in his own apartment as you clean up the mess from dinner, wondering if he ate any before coming over, or if he got all of it for you. You linger at the counter, thinking of the gesture. The sound of his shower cutting on flooding your tiny kitchen.

The next morning he’s not outside on the fire escape - instead, you’re alone with the snow flurries and Christmas lights. His window is dark, and snow starting to pile onto the ledge; he must not have been out to smoke all night. There’s a feeling inside you that him bringing dinner to you was a message you can’t quite decipher. 

You think about it all day, hands folding Christmas presents into wrapping paper. At half past ten, Simon’s door opens and shuts, and it shakes something free inside you. You leave the Christmas paper a wreck on the floor, padding barefoot to your door. 

Before you can think, you hurl yourself into the hallway, hands knocking frantically at Simon’s door. It opens just enough for you to see his brown eyes peering at you from the crack before he opens it fully, filling the space. 

“Do you want to go Christmas shopping with me later?” You stumble over the words, over the tie in your tongue, the words rushing out of you before you can feel embarrassed by them.

“Why do you want me to go?” He asks gruffly, but you don’t let the sound intimidate you.

“I just figured I’d ask a friend to go with me, you know.”

It takes a moment, and then -

“Six alright?”

You try to bite back the grin that threatens to crack your face, hands wrapping around your torso to try and contain it.

“Of course.”

[saywhatjessie]

“So you thought you kissed your way into that situation, might as well kiss your way out of it?” “Basically!” Jamie cried. “‘S like that old American sitcom, innit?”* Or the one where Jamie can't stop kissing Roy in front of other people. Written for the @rjbigbang! 10.1k [Ao3] Video by MicheleYourBelle under the cut

The way it started was so fucking stupid that Roy could not be surprised at any of the stupid things that followed.

He was sitting at his desk - the one that had formerly been Ted’s - and Jamie was sitting on the corner, chatting with Nate about Mother’s Day plans. It was still early, Jamie having taken a ride to training with Roy, so it was still mostly just the coaches waiting for the rest of the team to fill out the dressing room.

“It’s always shitty being so far from mummy on mummy’s day,” Jamie said, sadly, his feet gently kicking back against Roy’s desk. “But she always likes the flowers I send her. And Simon lets me pick what he makes her for breakfast, so it’s like I’m there.”

“That’s thoughtful, Jamie,” Nate smiled, his own feet kicking back against the bookshelves he always perched on. “My mum never lets anyone cook for her, not even on mother’s day. But I do get her flowers. My niece and I might make her another special box as well.”

“You’re dead good at those,” Jamie told him. “But what does she need all these boxes for?”

“Oh, nothing. They all end up collecting dust in the attic. But we like making ‘em and she likes getting ‘em, so there’s really no harm.”

“Unless you consider ecological harm,” Trent said, sliding into his place against the doorframe, his mug softly steaming. “I imagine this crafting generates considerable waste.”

“Come on, Trent, you can’t quantify the quality of making art by equating it to the trash it makes,” Beard argued. “I’d rather Nate and baby niece Nate make a ton of garbage doing crafts than the waste major corporations generate doing capitalism.”

“And you could always recycle,” Jamie said. “Use old magazines or summat. That’s what I used to do.”

“Were you crafty, Jamie?” Trent smiled. “Make little posters of your favourite footballers?”

Jamie stiffened, his eyes head making an aborted jerk like he was fighting not to look at Roy. “No.” 

Roy smirked.

“All right,” Roy started, leaning forward in his chair and shoving at Jamie’s back. “That’s enough, Tartt, go put on your kit.”

“Okay so maybe I did!” Jamie said, hopping off the desk and turning to face Roy. “Doesn’t mean they were for you. There are other footballers.”

“Not according to Simon,” Roy grinned, his head tilting back to look up at Jamie as Jamie stepped toward him. “I can call him and get the real story if you like.”

Jamie scoffed, folding his hands into the bottom of his jumper. “Simon doesn’t know everything .” He frowned, leaning forward. “But you better not call mummy.”

Roy rolled his eyes, his face going just a bit too fond for company. “Go change, Tartt.”

“Ay ay, Coach,” Jamie said before leaning in to kiss him goodbye.

Roy and Jamie had kissed before. They kissed all the time: had been since they first kissed after that disastrous fight over Keeley that got both of them kicked out of her home and good graces. They’d worked out their aggression, their mutual attraction and, soon enough, their quads while they were fucking it out back at Roy’s place.

Roy’d had a special clause put in his manager contract that he wouldn’t have to break up with Jamie and Jamie would be totally protected as a player if they did break up. He’d worked it out with Rebecca, with Higgins, and with Sharon during his many therapist appointments about it.

But no one else knew. They’d never done this in front of anyone else.

They both froze.

Jamie pulled away. He and Roy had a half second of eye contact where they had the following silent conversation:

“I fucked up.”

“You fucked up.”

“I can fix it!”

“How the fuck are you gonna fix it?”

“Shut up, I’ve got this.”

Jamie stood up, his back rail straight, and took a deep breath. Roy watched him as he put the ‘Jamie Tartt’ affectation back on, smirk fixed, as he turned back to the rest of the room, everyone still struck speechless.

“Coach!” Jamie said, again, stepping towards Nate. Nate sat there, stunned, as Jamie took his face in his hands and kissed him full on the mouth.

Now it was Roy’s turn to be speechless.

“Big man Trent Crimm!” Jamie said, turning to Trent, and planting a fat one on the writer’s mouth. Tren’t mouth was still puckered when Jamie pulled back.

Jamie turned and pointed at Beard. “And I wouldn’t forget you, Coach!”

Beard tilted his face up to accept the kiss, seeming more prepared for it than the other two had. 

Jamie pulled away with a loud “Muah!” and grinned around to the assembled coaches, slightly manic. “See you on the pitch!” And he turned and fled the office.

They all watched him go for a few beats before the other three all turned their gazes to Roy, demanding explanation.

Roy did his best to pull out a Roy Kent worthy performance. “What the fuck was that!?”

Trent hummed, touching his mouth, consideringly. “Not half bad is what that was.”

Roy swallowed a growl. He couldn’t be obviously jealous and it’s not like Trent was wrong. Jamie was a famously excellent kisser.

“I'm more surprised you let it happen,” Nate said, still staring at Roy. “You didn’t even headbutt him.”

Roy grunted, crossing his arms. “It’s in my contract I’m not allowed to nut players anymore.”

“Still, you think you’d do it on instinct,” Beard said, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t even shove him.”

“I panicked! Froze up or some shit.” Roy said, desperate to get the attention off of him. “None of you did it either.”

Nate shrugged his mouth. “Well I never dreamed he’d kiss me .” he said. “He used to shove sweaty pants at my face.”

“I figured he was trying something.” Beard said, dismissively. “Thought we’d see where it goes.”

They all looked at Trent who held up his rainbow mug in tribute. “Who am I to deny a kiss from a beautiful man?”

Roy very heroically did not possessively bare his teeth.

“Well I’ll tell him to cut that out,” he grunted. “Can’t have players just go around kissing people. We’ll have a whole sexual harassment crisis.”

“That’s only if people don’t want Jamie to kiss them,” Beard said, fairly.

Roy couldn’t quite bite back his growl at that. Beard put up his hands.

“I think it’s nice that we’ve created a culture where our players can be so comfortable with us,” Nate noted, pleased. “Remember when they were throwing me in bins?”

“Those can’t be the only two options,” Trent said. “Kissing or bins?”

“You’re right, we need a third option,” Beard said, leaning back in his chair. “Kiss, bin, go drinking with.”

“The three genders,” Trent confirmed with a smirk. “Of those three options, I’m happy to kiss Jamie. Couldn’t lift him to put him in a bin and I worry how we’d fair in conversation.”

Nate and Beard hummed in agreement and now Roy wanted to defend Jamie’s conversation skills of all things.

He wouldn’t because that would be fucking suspicious but he wanted to. How pathetic.

“I’ll bin the twat,” Roy said instead. “Someone should.”

“He’d probably bin himself if you asked him to,” Beard noted, smirking.

Roy smirked back, not disagreeing.

[Read the rest on Ao3]