#there is also the looming condition of him leaving | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightwing-s · 11 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯 ; 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: you're pregnant. somehow, your baby daddy has to find out about it.

word count: 5,6k warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abortion.

a/n: i wrote and rewrote this a lot, and I don't think this is the best I could come up with, but here it is. a lot more angst that previous episodes and I do recommend reading it while listening to The Flame by Valerie Deniz and also Give me Love by Ed Sheeran because I love how emotional that song usually makes me feel. Hope you all enjoy it ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

With a deep sigh, you tried to settle down your nerves. Your hands were sore. Sweaty. Tired of trying. The heaviness still lingered on your chest. The feeling of incoming doom. The air all around was thicker than you’d remembered it for, nearly making it impossible for you to breathe. And you swore to your reflection in the mirror, you were gonna make it through.

It had been three nights since the result. Two days of pain. And one single thought looming in your mind. Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You didn’t know what to do, nor what to think. Sinking into a pit of terror and despair. The idea frightened you, tore you apart. And just thinking of your future, of what was to come from now on, made your head spin.

Today, you forced yourself to forget. Pretend your life was normal, like it used to be. Not Much had changed since you had taken the test three days ago, but to you it felt like everything was different.

You had skipped the gym the last couple of days, the first time doing it since you could remember, scared to face anybody and them finding out, but also too anxiety stricken to even leave your bed. You felt cramps, but also your stomach turning. You felt nauseous, but you weren’t sure if it was due to your newfound condition, or if it was the anxiety acting out.

Nessie had called, and you gave her some excuse that your boss needed you elsewhere. Another city. A quick work trip, you’d be back soon. At work, you told them you had caught some contagious disease you found on google, and they let you off for the entire week. Thankful for a relatively full pantry, you survived for two days on your own, but you sure couldn’t manage to eat much anyway.

You’ve never lived worst days. You were sure of that. Fear fills you to the brim. Sadness eats you up from the inside. And because of that, you felt even worse. There are so many people who dreamed of being where you were now, of getting a positive. So many have struggled for this. And here you were, ungrateful for yours. But you never wanted it in the first place. Not now, not like this. It didn’t follow your plan. It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t long ago that you were graduating college. And as of this moment, you were a mere assistant, not even a proper writer or a journalist yet like you’ve dreamed since you were little. An assistant. The bottom of the food chain, with still a lot to grow and harvest in your career. You neither had the finances, the stability, nor the time and mental capacity to be raising a baby on your own.

Because you would be raising it on your own, wouldn’t you? Your baby daddy would just disappear, like many others you’ve heard about. He would pack his things and disappear. He would live his life, continue with being young, having fun, while you were left to fend for yourself and your kid. All alone.

Would you even tell him? Should you even tell him?

Three nights. Three nights of torture. Of overthinking the future and sulking in your bed, your pillow drenched with your tears. You knew you’d go crazy if you kept that going for too long. So, finding some bit of courage, some tiny little ounce of determination, you left your bed that morning ready to forget. Ready to clear your mind, to make it think straight. And then, you wished, you would know what to do.

You showered, ate, did your skincare and put on makeup, and went for a walk around the park. But you just had to step out of your apartment to find someone who made you think instantly of him. Running back inside and leaving your raven haired neighbor staring confused at you, you made a beeline to the bathroom, dropping your entire breakfast in the toilet.

You had to tell him, hadn’t you? You had to tell Jason. It was the right thing to do, right?

So, here you were. Back at the gym you’d quit a month ago in favor of another. All because of your last encounter. You thought it was the best to be done, remove him entirely from your life so you could be free again. If only you had known then where you’d be a month later, you’d have laughed at the irony the world was throwing at you. You still remembered the times he’d come, praying he didn’t have them changed for some reason. Maybe he wanted to avoid you too. Maybe he had quit. Please, God. Be on my side, only for today.

It had been, perhaps, a full hour since you arrived. Roy had greeted you with a large smile, asking if you were back for good. You couldn’t match his enthusiasm, offering him a poor excuse of your own smile instead. All this time, you couldn’t complete a full set, never mind finish an entire exercise. Your body trembled, not answering you. Too exhausted. The heaviness on your chest helped in weighing you down and making every effort insufficient.

The weights you had tried to use now stood on your feet. Crooked, disordered, unorganized. Then, you found yourself looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and swollen. Your lips were dry and exposed some nervous bite marks you’d been taking off them. There were a few pimples on your forehead, and you had bags under your eyes. In the corner of the mirror, too stood the reflection of the one you’d been looking for.

He chatted with another man. It wasn’t Roy, by the darker hair color and shorter size. Yet it was a face you recognized, but failed to name. Jason looked happy, smiling as he spoke excitedly about something you did not know about. Were you really ready to tell him? Were you okay with ceasing his happiness?

Your eyes lingered on him for longer, and eventually, his eyes found yours. His smile was quickly replaced by a frown. An air of disgust and anger. His tongue poked his cheek, and he rolled his eyes at you. Turning around, he decided that facing the other direction was much better than facing you. Now, his broad back was all you were left to stare at.

You felt the nausea return. Leaving your things behind, you rushed to the restroom. He hated you. He hated you and he was fucking right for it. And what were you thinking? Telling him he was going to be a father, to your baby above all, at the fucking gym?

After dumping your stomach in the toilet once more, you wanted to get out of there. Collecting your things and shoving them inside your bag, you headed out. However, in good old fashion, you felt a body stop as it came in contact with someone else’s. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Eyeing you from above, Jason started to apologize before he could recognize who you were, proceeding to roll his eyes again. You excused yourself, still looking away from him, and his demeanor changed from anger to worry.

“Yn, are you alright?” he inquired, reaching for your arm. You felt your eyes start to burn, the tears finding their way back, and the nausea only got worse. Running past him, all you managed to say was a quick “I’m fine,” before disappearing.

You arrived at his building straight away, using the faint memory of the directions that remained in your brain from the night he brought you here. You were still clad in your gym clothes, not caring to stop at home first, nor remembering to actually do it. But it was fine, because you didn’t sweat anyways. You couldn’t even finish one full exercise in the hour or so you were there.

So you waited. You waited on the opposite sidewalk, thinking back to the first time you came here. It was almost two months ago, or maybe more, you don’t remember exactly. It seemed longer, though. It all seemed longer. Longer than two months. Longer than three days. It all seemed like an eternity.

The sun waved goodbye on the horizon, hiding between Gotham’s skyline. The weather started to shift, as the warmth of summer slowly gave place to the strong winds and the coolness of the autumn days. The breeze made you wish you had brought a coat or something to keep you warm, the thin gym clothes you wore doing nothing to help you. And so, your body shivered.

Shivered from the cold. Shivered from the fear. The agony you’d so desperately tried to keep away returning back to you. If you went up. If you knocked on his door. If you talked to him, there was no pretending anymore. There was no hiding facts you so wished you could. There was no fighting reality.

A lump formed in your throat, and you tried to swallow it away, to no avail. Your breath, your hands, your legs, your all trembled. Fighting to keep yourself up when all you wanted was to fall down, to curl up under your covers and hide from the world. From the truth.

You thought back to the days when things were easier. To your days at the park, playing around with your friends, the hem of your jeans always dirty from mud, dust or paint. You remembered the days all you had to do was study, your chores, and your drawings. Reading books from sunrise to sundown, or for the entire night. Of when responsibilities didn’t follow you everywhere, and the perspective of the future didn’t break you down.

You thought of your parents. Of how mad they would get. There was always a path to them, a way to follow. A way to live your entire life. Just like they had done theirs. Any step out of that line often led you to trouble. ‘You have to get married to a good and respectful husband. One that will care and provide for you. And then, when the time is right, God will give you children to raise, just like he did to me and your father,’ your mother would tell you. ‘There’s nothing more shameful than a single mother’, were once the words of your father. And the thought of what they’d do to you once they found out had your tears rolling down faster than you could hold them in.

An old lady passed by you, asked if you were okay. You lied, like you’d been doing for the past few days. You weren’t one for lying, never was, and suddenly it was all you did. “Oh dear,” she cooed, and embraced you in an unexpected hug, before her tiny pomsky pulled her away.

Grey took over your surroundings, like one of those movie filters that left everything somber. A single headlight of a motorcycle let you know he was finally here. That the time of truth was upon you. You watched him park his motorcycle like a creep. Hidden in a dark corner, away from his sight. He had showered at the gym, and now wore a different outfit. Sweatpants and a hoodie.

He looked comfortable. You clearly weren’t. He looked happy. Opposite to you. Were you ready to take all that away from him? To curse him to the same pain and anxiety you were feeling now?

But you couldn’t do it alone. You couldn’t. You needed him. You needed him. You needed him by your side. You need someone, something. Something to tell you everything would be okay. Gathering up all your courage, every bit you could find within yourself, you took one step out of the sidewalk.

A deep breath taken before entering the building, you walked in without ceasing to cry. Each step you took up the stairs was heavy. Heavier than when you were drunk, and heavier than the day you left. Each step was a gulp. Each gulp was a scream inside your brain telling you to turn around. About two or three times along the way you stopped to look down, and wondered what would be of you if you’d just ran away.

In your mind, you counted each and every step. An attempt to clear it of thought. It obviously didn’t work. Your legs shook and your breathing faltered with the last steps you took to reach the sixth floor. The tears had dried, leaving your skin cold to the touch. You moved on automatic. Everything else you did a blank stain in your memory.

It was the feeling of the hardwood under your knuckles that brought you back to reality. The hollow sound it made woke you up, showing you’d made it to his door. Your breath got stuck in your throat, and you felt like you could vomit.

He took his time to answer the door. And you wondered if it was a sign to turn around. To leave. But your feet wouldn’t move, even if you screamed at them to do so. The ruffling inside the apartment made your heart jump, beating hard in its place. Your breathing halted, trapped in your larynx, as the tears started rapidly falling down again.

When he opened the door, it was like time had stopped. He assessed you through narrow eyes, still angry at you. You didn’t blame him, not at all.

“They run from you twice and still come right back,” he hissed. His voice was hoarse and monotone, and his eyes found yours in a blank stare. The corners of your mouth fell. Your chin trembled. And had to avert your eyes from him otherwise you’d start sobbing all over again. “Yn,” he called, and his voice didn’t show the hate or disgust anymore. It was worried. It felt pain. Softer and watchfull. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the tears. Trying so hard to keep them in, but the drops that fell beside your sneakers on the floor were a testament of how your body had stopped responding to you a long time ago. Your shoulders shook, and Jason went from worried to desperate. He didn’t know what was going on. But seeing you like this made him freak out.

And suddenly he wasn’t mad at you anymore. In retrospect, maybe he never truly was. But whatever anger, or frustration he had disappeared from his body. You felt his touch on your shoulder, and you imagined he had just put one hand there as a sign of support. You’d be thankful for just that. But then, you felt his arms drawing you close, wrapping around you, until you felt the soft cotton of his hoodie through your cheek.

The tears ran down faster, soaking a spot on the thick fabric. Your loud sobs only made Jason pull you closer, not knowing how, but still trying to call you down. Whatever happened was too bad that you’d run to him of all people, and he felt obligated to help you in any way he could.

By this point, he was holding you up himself. Your body giving in to the tears. Jason tucked his nose in your hair, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo. He caressed your back, kissed you temple, spread warmth through your body with his own hands rubbing at your arms. However, your tears ceased to stop, making the stain under your eyes enlarge, second after second.

“Yn,” he whispered right into your ear. The air he let out hitting against your skin.

You pressed your eyes shut. The tears that still lingered there being forced out. You tightened your hold on him. He called you again, and forced his neck to get a glimpse of your puffy red eyes.

You didn’t want to let go, but forced yourself to push him away just so you could finally face him. You felt your throat dry, a weak cough trying to fix it up. Jason couldn’t help the quick thought of how pretty you looked when you cried, but he felt so much pain in his chest at the same time that he wished he would never see you like that again.

The first time you opened your mouth, nothing came out of it. Jason’s fingers drew figures on your back, both a distraction and an encouragement. You can do it, you can do it. With another deep, long breath, you slowly opened your eyes to meet his.

“I-I’m…” you started, breathless. A single tear late to fall from your eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Jason’s mind went blank. His body was suddenly weightless. The moments past your announcement, a mere stain in his memory. You now sat beside him on his sofa, your hands covering your face as he heard continuous sobs coming out of you. Your knees tight against your chest, and it didn’t bother him you had your shoes on the sofa. Nothing bothered him. Nothing was on his mind.

Your body quivered, nonstop. His own unresponsive. What the hell did he do?

Pregnant. Eight letters that had the power to change everything. Pregnant. You were pregnant. With his baby.

Jason felt his chest tighten, and breathing suddenly was harder. He tried swallowing the knot in his throat away, but it wouldn’t bulge. Resting his back on the sofa, a hand threading through his hair, he allowed a couple of tears out, rubbing his eyes off any others that dared to hang around.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breaking the prolonged silence with a raspy voice. Moving your head from it’s place buried on your knees, your eyes looked at him with a pain he’d have thought he’d put a knife on your back. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he told you softly. “I just want to be sure.”

Straightening beside him, you stared at the cat worriedly looking up at the two humans occupying the sofa. You fiddled with your fingers, pulling at the fabric of your leggings.

“I took a test,” you started to explain. “Three nights ago. And my period was late, and it’s never late. And it’s not like we were careful when we…”

“Not at all.” Jason shook his head. You weren’t careful at all.

The room fell into silence again, the only sounds coming from the cat, now playing between his legs, unaware of the turmoil you’d just caused in his life.

“I’m sorry,” you said, resuming your sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Jason kept saying. He turned on the sofa, sitting in a position he could easily wrap his arms around you once again. “No, Yn. Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he soothed.

“Jason,” you called him, your voice broken. “How there’s not? I’m fucking pregnant!”

Jason held you tighter. But the truth was, he might’ve been just as scared as you were. A baby meant a new life, responsibilities. And he was still getting used to being an adult and the responsibilities that came with that. It was all going to change. And he had plans…

The two of you stood there until your sobs had quieted down. You didn’t know how long, but you were grateful he was quiet for the entire time. You were thankful he was quiet instead of telling you any of the things you’d thought he would. And you were also thankful he didn’t close his door on your face.

“Have you thought…” Jason tried to speak, but his voice kept on breaking. “Have you thought… of all possibilities?”

He hoped you understood what he meant, because he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It was a hard thing to ask, but he had to. He didn’t want you to think he was pushing you to it, but he needed to know if it was a possibility too. Jason remembered hearing some friends saying they had their girlfriends do it, that they basically forced them. But Jason would never.

He felt you moving on his chest, pushing yourself away from his body, and his breath halted. “It’s your call,” he whispered. “I’ll be there for any of them.”

You had sat back up, hands tugging at your leggings again while you thought. It took you long to answer. Too long for his liking. But he understood your pace, everything was happening way too fast. You needed to think things through. For some reason, his stomach took turns, making him feel sick as he waited.

“I don’t think I could do it,” you stated, staring blankly at your legs. “I don’t think I could end it.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A lightness on his chest he could not name. He nodded, as words didn’t make it out of his lips.

Leaning back on the sofa, you felt his shoulders hit yours. He let out another breath, it was long and you found it hard to read his emotions through it. He was silent beside you, making it even harder for you to guess what was going through his mind.

That’s it, he’s gonna tell you he can’t do it either. He’s gonna leave you alone.

“You just took one test?” he asked after a while. You just nodded. “We should go to the hospital,” he suggested, head turned to watch you. “Get a proper test, just to make sure.”

His suggestion made you hurt. The fact that he doubted you, the fact he thought you’d go to him if you weren’t a hundred percent sure, caused you a pain you did not expect. However, on the other hand, you knew he was right. You had to be certain. False positives happen, right? You could be wrong.

“Okay,” you agreed weakly, turning to face him after all. “I’ll do it.”

It might have been the uncomfortable chairs or the freezing air conditioning, but the time didn’t seem to pass. It was well over an hour since you’d arrived at the hospital, and you’d stopped counting how much you’ve waited for your test results to come out. They said between thirty minutes to an hour, but you were sure it had been longer than that.

While you remained seated for most of your wait, Jason was restless. He stood up and sat down more times than you remember, and he was seriously starting to piss you off with his pacing. Stopping in front of a snack machine, he put some dollar bills in it and took something with him before walking back to you.

Stretching his arm in front of you, he offered both a granola and a Snickers bar. In no mood to be healthy, even though your possible new condition sort of demanded that from you, you took the chocolate gladly.

Jason dropped down on a chair beside you with a huff, and took a bite of the granola bar with a certain annoyance. You were both tired of waiting, that was for sure. The agony you’d felt earlier had simmered down, but you too now sat restless, one of your legs shaking incessantly.

It was involuntary, but Jason’s hand on your knee made it stop. It lingered there for a while, fingertips gracing over the thin fabric and tugging at it just like you had been doing before. You saw his head move, and so did yours, catching his eyes.

Your expressions had been everywhere tonight. The whirlwind of emotions you had gone through justifying each and everyone of them. But this time, his eyes bore into yours much softer, sweeter than they’d been before.

“Yn,” he called your name as if you hadn’t been staring down at him for what seemed like forever. “Whatever happens. Whatever the results say. I’ll be here, alright? I won’t leave you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your eyes tearful once more, but this time you managed to hold them in. You gave him a soft smile, and you were really glad he was here with you now. Putting a hand on top of his, he flipped it over so you could interlace your fingers, caressing its back with your thumb just like he was doing to you.

It was then that your name was called, both of your heads snapping in the reception desk’s direction. Jason stood up and walked over, grabbing a single piece of paper before walking back to you with even taking a glance at it.

When he sat back, he offered you his opened hand. You intertwined your fingers, and held his with both your hands, taking it closer to your heart this time. You couldn’t deny the tiny bit of hope lingering inside you that, just perhaps, you were actually wrong. You weren’t pregnant. But, over the hours, you’d also grown accustomed to the idea. He opened the results with between his thumb and pointer finger, and both your eyes fell on the big letters found on top of it.

Positive. Again. It was positive. You were truly pregnant.

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes to stop the tears from returning. Jason’s hold on you tightened, and you could sense the tension on him returning. He buffed some air out through his mouth, taking another deep breath before doing the same thing again.

“That’s it,” his voice was shaky. “You’re really pregnant.” He forced himself to smile, and you tried to do the same. To no avail. His eyebrows furrowed. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. “I just wanna go home. It’s been a long night.”

“Okay,” he said softly, standing up and walking with you hand in hand till you left the hospital.

The parking lot was almost empty, and you found Jason’s car sitting isolated far ahead. The silver Toyota Supra shone under the faint light of a lamp post, and you remembered how surprised you were to find him driving it. It finally occurred to you that other than his name and his gym membership, you knew nothing about the man you were about to have a baby with.

He didn’t know you either. Gosh, you didn’t know a thing at this point. About him, about pregnancy, about babies and having children. He asked you ‘what now?’ and you didn’t even have an answer. How the hell were you going to do it?

When he felt your fingers leaving his, Jason immediately turned to face you. Frozen in place and flooded eyes.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you said breathlessly. “Jason, I don't think I can do it. I never wanted kids. I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. I didn’t want it now. I wanted to do it all right. This is not it.” You cried once again, rambling the words that left your mouth. Jason had walked over to you, trying to calm you down and wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t know anything about babies. I’ve only babysat before, but they were much older. And even my nephew, I didn’t meet him until he was, like, six months old. And I don’t know shit about pregnancies. I hated biology. I slept a lot during classes.”

“How can we do it? I barely know you. Gosh I don’t even know your surname, Jason. You’re what, Jason fucking Linetti? How can we have a baby together without knowing each other? We’re supposed to build a family together. A family. My family… I-I never had a family. Not really. I didn’t want a family, Jason. Not now. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, stopping your rambling. He cupped your cheeks with both his hands, holding your face. His forehead rested on yours, forcing you to stare him in the eyes. “I also don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do. For fucks sake, Yn. But we have time. The baby is not gonna come tomorrow. We’ll figure things out. Together. We have each other, alright? You have me. I’ll be here, with you, all along. You don’t have to worry. We’ll learn how to do this together, and with time. Okay?”

Jason’s dark eyes passed you enough confidence to have you thinking that, maybe, possibly, he was right. You could actually do it. The baby isn’t coming tomorrow, you have time. You’ll figure things out. With Jason. Together.

Slowly, you nodded. You could do it, right?

Jason sighed, relieved you actually believed him, because as of right now, he himself was struggling to do so. Giving your head a long kiss, he pulled you into a hug before pulling away to open his car door to you to enter. Dropping on the driver seat beside you, you desperately waited to get back home.

“I’m Jason Peter Todd. I’m 22 years old. A leo. I work as an exercise physiologist, but I want to be a doctor someday. So I’m working on getting into med school soon. I love motorcycles, they are fucking cool and driving them makes me feel free. I have probably over twenty tattoos and my favorite book is probably Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.”

“What was that for?” You gave him an amused smile.

“You said you didn’t know me or my surname. Now you do, and you can say you know a little. If you want my social security number too, it’s 108…”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, softly, for the first time in three days. “I guess knowing your surname is fine for now.”

He gave you a smile, but raised one eyebrow at you. Confused, you frowned, trying to understand what he meant until he pointed at you with his head, leading you to do the same as he did.

“Okay,” you started. “I’m Yn Sn. I work at Runaway Magazine as Sandra’s assistant, but I really want to be a journalist. I don’t have any tattoos because I’m afraid of needles, and I can’t choose a favorite book because I like too many.”

“Nice to meet you Yn Sn,” he greeted, extending his hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Jason Todd. Now can you please take me home. I’m exhausted.”

“Alright,” he gave you a smirk. “Do you remember the address this time?”

He insisted on walking you to your door, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe. You didn’t know where he thought you could disappear to between the sidewalk and your apartment door, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to enjoy his company.

The elevator ride was silent, and neither of you spoke as you tried to unlock your front door.

“Thank god,” you said. Relief spread through you as the door opened and you got into your home. Immediately taking off your sneakers, you placed them by the door so they could keep it open for you. Looking back at Jason, who still didn’t dare step inside your apartment, you managed to give him a thankful smile. “And thank you too, Jason.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s not even the least I can do, it’s my responsibility now.”

“But still, thank you. There were many ways out for you, and you took none,” you explained, resting your shoulder on the door frame.

“Yn, you didn’t make this baby alone” he began. “I saw your state when you knocked on my door, and I also made you a promise. I don’t usually break them.”

For a brief minute, you two stood in silence again. Eyes lingering over each other. A recognizable tension in the air. You averted your eyes from him, as warmth engulfed your cheeks, the painted nails on your toes suddenly a lot more interesting to you.

“I’ll be going then. Call me if you need anything, alright?” he said, already halfway to the elevator.

“Jason,” you called and he turned back. Hopeful. “Do you even have my number?”

He stopped to think, and a dumb smile appeared on his face upon realizing he had never asked you for your number, nor did he ever give you his. Taking his phone out of his sweatpants pockets, he handed it to you. “If you don’t mind. I think I really should have your number.” He combed a hand through his hair.

You typed in your phone number, trying to think of what to write your name as, but concluding your name would be just fine. You gave yourself a call so you could save his too later, and returned him his cellphone.

He awkwardly waved you goodbye, and called the elevator that opened up instantly, not having left your floor since you had gotten home. You watched him as the door began to close, head hanging low and a tired demeanor.

“Jason?” you called again, and he put his hand on the door just as it was about to fully close. It opened again, and he placed his hands on each side of the door frame. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Stop thanking me,” he laughed and now allowed the door to close.

You stood there, dumbfoundedly watching the closed door as you swiftly repeated the entire night in your head. Every moment of pain, despair and torture morphing into nervous expectation of the future that was about to come.

You didn’t allow yourself to think too much about it. An entire day was already enough, you needed rest.

A rumbling beside you grabbed your attention, and your head turned to your friend’s door. Nessie poked her head out, clearly surprised to see you there.

“Weren’t you on a trip?” she asked, and you shook your head, leaving her a lot more confused.

“There’s so much we need to talk,” you sighed, allowing your weight to fall on her as you engulfed her in a tight hug.

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @erochuu ; @gone-batty-fics ; @jasontoddslover ; @jkvolgs ; @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @strawberryforks ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday ; @vissavin @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo ; @wordsfromshona

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outofconcheol · 5 months ago

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bloodline (JWW x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: vampire professor!wonwoo x TA!reader

genres/aus/rating: romance, angst, smut, fantasy au, 18+

summary: Cursed to a solitary existence, Wonwoo seeks a cure for his condition - enlisting the help of his diligent teacher's assistant. However, you refuse to let Professor Jeon go through with the cure without first teaching him the wonders of having something worth living for. When your tired souls find solace in your shared loneliness, friendship (and something more) blooms. But what happens when that isn’t enough? When the secrets that both you and Wonwoo have been harboring finally catch up to you? Will you and Wonwoo make the most of every moment, or will the aftermath of his quest leave you both even lonelier than before?

warnings (to be updated with final fic): tw: this fic deals with Wonwoo being tired of his vampirism and essentially wanting to end his life as a vampire (whatever that may entail - stay tuned), mentions blood, Wonwoo has dark and depressing thoughts, that's all for now but just know we are in for a ride :)

word count: 619 for the teaser, TBD for final fic

a/n: I've been thinking about this for a long time, and with me wanting to write more for SVT, I decided it was finally time to take the plunge! Please note that this is going to be an angsty journey, with lots of inspiration from pieces such as Thirst (2009), Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), and the Vampire Tapestry by Suzie McKee Charnas. As always, if these themes are not for you, please take care of yourself (your wellbeing comes first always). Also, thank you to the lovely sèvn (@aaagustd/@xscoupsx) for the banner. I hope you enjoy!

The bust sits in the corner of the office, nestled away in an alcove by the window. On sunnier days, when the light would hit it, the marble would reflect brilliantly, its ivory tones taking the appearance of an angel, a silent guardian watching over Wonwoo while he worked. Most of the time, it loomed in the shadows, its unsettling presence doing nothing more than to serve as a reminder that despite his physical appearance, Wonwoo was closer to the cold, unfeeling marble than he was to any of the human peers he’d encountered through the centuries.

Wonwoo can’t recall when in his travels he’d come across the statue, eight hundred years blurring together into a muddle, countless memories fading into oblivion, delicate threads disappearing in the intricate fabric of his mind. Maybe at one point it’d been a gift from a dear friend, or maybe even a lover, but Wonwoo simply couldn’t remember any of it at all. A lifetime of indulgence and hedonism meant that seeking pleasure had long lost its charm.

What more was there to study when Wonwoo had studied it all? From stepping into battle during the middle ages, joining the height of enlightenment during the Renaissance, and witnessing the advent of modern technology in the past century or so, Wonwoo had lingered in the background, slipping easily into the folds of human society. And it all lead him here, to this room that felt more like a box than an office, sifting through countless essays from a batch of college students who were as disinterested in learning about anthropology as Wonwoo had become with his own life.

Even now, he casts his gaze over to his faint reflection in the window, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, lean and lonely-looking. To the untrained eye, professor Jeon Wonwoo was the picture of innocence, milking the image of a solitary bachelor devoted to pursuing a lifetime of knowledge, much to the chagrin of many of his pupils. But Wonwoo saw what no one else did - the faint tinge of red in his eyes, a sign that he’d gone hungry for too long, the needle-like barb under his tongue that had known the taste of blood too many times. All signs of the monster that layed within.

The efforts of concealing his true nature had finally caught up to him - the mask that he’d put on, feigning interest in human art, science, and culture finally slipping from his face. Simply put, Wonwoo was tired - restless from years of fighting the hunger, pretending that he cared for this life he’d crafted for himself. In reality, it was all a farce. Wonwoo had given up human blood long ago, but feasting on animals wasn’t enough to quell the burning inside him.

In the end, he craved. Wonwoo was a thief, because he craved the one thing that was a lifesource for humans - their anima, their joie de vivre. He craved it because he didn’t have one of his own, nothing that drove him, that fueled him to keep going. Humans felt things - they felt happiness, sadness, anger and love. Emotions were so intertwined into the mesh of their lives that they craved any experiences that would give them more - from weddings and parties for families and friends, to random hook-ups, to even the thrill of dangerous situations.

He’d read the essays his students had written - some of them talking about how humanity loved the society they’d crafted so much, that science was constantly coming up with new ways to prolong life, to keep on living. And yet, it didn’t move him. Wonwoo was tired of living just to live. Which is why he’d chosen to die.

a/n pt. 2: if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! I work a pretty busy job, so I'm not sure when the anticipated release date, will be, but I'm going to try to work on this as much as I can. As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

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dandylovesturtles · 1 year ago

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Sidelined AU Info Post

Alright, I guess we're doing this

CWs: mentions of internalized ableism, struggles with mental health

Timeline:

all of S1 is the same as in canon up until End Game

however, after Splinter turns over the helmet to Draxum, Draxum does not put on the armor, but chooses to put Leo inside instead, realizing that whoever goes in will probably have something horrible happen to them. that's detailed in this fic

unlike Draxum, who gets spit out of the armor immediately, Leo ends up trapped inside. from Leo's perspective, he is only vaguely aware of what's happening outside (it's a bit sunken place-ish, with him seeing snatches of events like through a grainy television), and he has only small amounts of influence over what the armor does

once Feral Shredder is on the loose, he pretty immediately starts destroying the Hidden City. Draxum realizes that he has inadvertently released a great evil on his people, the exact opposite of what he wanted, and he turns to the Hamatos to help him stop it. obviously they don't want to work with Draxum, but they have to get Leo back so they take the help

it takes them two days, during which the Shredder moves up to start terrorizing New York as well, but eventually they get him subdued. I'm not 100% on what goes down yet or whether Big Mama gets involved (I'm leaning toward not), but Leo fighting from the inside is a big help

Leo is removed from the armor and is in really bad physical shape; meanwhile the Shredder is subdued for now. in the immediate aftermath, the Foot Clan manages to get ahold of the Shredder and take off with him

he's too weak to do anything immediately but he is very much a Looming Threat the family is aware of

Draxum leaves for awhile at this point because none of them want him around and seeing Leo in the aftermath did wake him up to "oh yeah that's just a kid and I did that to him," also he's feeling real bad about that whole "accidentally almost destroying the yokai and also maybe the world" thing

meanwhile, Leo is severely weakened, but there's not anything that the family can do to hasten his recovery. they can only get him hooked up to an IV for fluids and nutrients and wait

it takes Leo a few days to become fully lucid again; during that time he tries to fight anyone around him off or sometimes pushes his family away to "protect" them

eventually Leo does regain lucidity, he tells everyone he's fine but he's Super Depressed. he's also lost his mystic powers completely.

Splinter also retreats a bit at this point, because he feels guilt for handing the helmet over to Draxum instead of trying to find a different way to rescue his boys, which isn't a great thing for him to do but his mental health is also not doing very well (someone get these guys some therapy)

in the meantime the bros and April manage the best they can, they all have different approaches but I'll go into detail about that in the next section

there's no treatment for Leo's condition outside the most boring one: time, exercise, and diet. unsurprisingly he hates this

Healing Bad Times abound, as shown in this fic

eventually the boys have to go out on a mission again. Leo, feeling useless, listens in on the comms from the lair, and ends up catching something the other boys' missed, meaning he's able to save them from a trap or something idk exactly what the point is he makes himself useful

this opens up a new path for Leo, one his brothers very heavily encourage

with a new goal in mind, Leo starts taking a lot better care of himself, actually following his physical therapy routine, spending time gaining new skills, and accepting help in the form of mobility aids. his physical and mental health both start making big improvements

this also helps his dad's mental health, everyone is doing better even if things aren't perfect

Donnie builds Leo a command center modeled after the bridge of Jupiter Jim's ship, he absolutely loves it. whenever the boys+April are on missions, Leo is in his command center helping from the background

eventually Leo has gotten to the point where he has enough strength for day to day life most of the time, he still isn't fighting baddies on rooftops but he can get to a store and back without collapsing on a good day and that's pretty good!

the Foot Clan has been a much bigger threat in this version of S2 and it's clear they're up to something big

of course right when Leo is starting to feel stable and happy again, that's when they launch their final attack

a lot of the finale events go down similarly to how they do in canon, minus Battle Nexus New York. they get Karai back but then she dies, Shredder destroys their home (including Leo's command center :c ), everything is Bad

Leo gets his mystic powers back the same way his brothers do, though he needs a little bit of an extra helping nudge from April/Karai, since he didn't think that was a thing he could still do

everyone getting their mystic powers is emotional but it's especially emotional for Leo. he didn't even know what ninpo was before today, but he knew after the Shredder it was like some part of his soul got locked away, and now that he can feel it again he finally feels whole

it gives him a burst of adrenaline so he can participate in the fight, though he doesn't do much of the actual battling, instead getting his bros where they need to be for the big hits (I mean this is basically what he does anyway haha)

it takes Donnie exactly .02 seconds to figure out how to use his own mystic powers to support Leo physically so that helps

after this, Leo becomes a more constant part of the team in the field, though he still primarily works as support and only gets into direct fights when he feels like he has to

instead of being made leader like in canon, Leo and Raph become co-leaders. Leo's own leadership abilities have improved massively, but Raph has more experience in the field, so having the two of them working together means they cover each other's blind spots, and the division of labor is less stressful for both of them

since Leo's already been through his character development and this tension is gone the movie events play out totally differently but I haven't gotten that far yet lol. I'm sure the apocalypse still happens somehow, though, I'd hate to lose Casey Jr

happy ending whooo

Relationships

Raph

Raph feels a lot of guilt about what happened to Leo; he was supposed to protect his little brothers and he didn't, and now one of them has permanent physical disabilities as a result. add to that it was Raph's idea to be heroes in the first place and yeah... he's not doing great

because of this guilt, Raph's instinct is to essentially baby Leo - he wants to take care of his every need as soon as it arises. this makes Leo feel stifled and infantilized, and drives a wedge in their relationship (the same one Raph is driving between himself and Mikey, in fact)

his and Donnie's distinctly different approaches to the situation also mean that they get into arguments often and can't really deal with being around each other, leaving Raph feeling isolated at the start (and thus pouring more attention and effort into Leo, which compounds the problem)

Raph dealing with his own guilt and trying to find the balance between helping Leo while also respecting his need for independence, boundaries, and dignity is a big part of his journey in the AU, and it also improves his relationship with Mikey and Donnie as he gets better at those skills

Donnie

Donnie is not dealing well with the fact that there's nothing to fix. they can only be patient and work incrementally to improve Leo's condition

he distracts himself by putting all his energy into making the lair accessible for Leo, building him mobility aids and doing everything he can to help

he also has a hard time understanding why Leo won't do the things that will help him (at first), because doesn't he just want things to go back to normal? doesn't he want to help himself? why won't he just do what he obviously has to do, Donnie does not understand

Leo is deep in denial at first, and he feels like he breaks down and starts doing physical therapy and using mobility aids and doing basically any of the things that will help him, that means it's not going to magically get better, it's going to take time and effort and it will probably never be fixed, just improved, and he hates that so much he's choosing to treat this like a temporary cold or flu that will blow over any day now

Donnie doesn't understand that so he takes Leo's refusal as a rejection and animosity abounds!

breakdowns and admissions of feelings will eventually happen

Donnie and Leo together come to grips with the idea that there is no fixing this and there is no return to how things were before but they can work toward a new normal that's just as good

Mikey

this one is a little bit too big for Dr. Delicate Touch and Dr. Feelings

Mikey tries, but he is just a kid, and with their dad emotionally retreating too there's just too many feelings for him to deal with on his own

he's gonna play family therapist until he breaks

he's frustrated because he can see what each of his brothers need to do to feel better but they just! won't! they won't do it, and he doesn't know how to make them

he's really stressed

it's Mikey that realizes that Leo needs goals to work toward to get himself motivated to take care of himself, and it's Mikey who pushes the hardest for Leo's new role in the team

sometimes Mikey will challenge Leo to something silly, like who can make the most throws of a paper ball into a trash can, just to push Leo into exercising

he finds other little ways to help the others too, but he still can't solve the big problems on his own

meltdown ensues

Mikey has to learn to take care of himself, too, while the others have to learn they can't lean so hard on him for all their emotional problems

April

the only one holding on around here. it helps that she doesn't actually have to live in the powderkeg

takes a rationally minded approach to all these problems, kind of functioning like family therapist along with Mikey but in a healthier and more controlled way

helps get them resources from above ground

Leo opens up the most about his feelings about his physical condition to her first, because she strikes the best balance between being a sympathetic ear without coddling him

she's also stressed, but she has an outside support network so she's handling it better

Splinter

fully blames himself for what happened to Leo and has a hard time getting over it

depression in full swing

it means he can't easily get out of bed to help his kids, but then he feels bad because he isn't helping them, which worsens the depression, which makes it hard to get out of bed... a vicious cycle

when Leo starts working on his condition he gets a pact out of his dad that they will both work on being healthier together

maybe they manage to find an actual therapist eventually idk lol

either way, Splinter and Leo grumpily sitting over their plate of broccoli and then Leo says "bet I can eat more pieces than you" and it's on son

he's trying his best

Leo's Condition

Leo came out of the armor severely dehydrated and malnourished, even more so than any person should realistically be after two days; just keeping him from dying of the dehydration was the most immediate struggle

the main issue is that Leo's life force, mystic abilities included, were basically sucked out, leaving his body catastrophically physically weak

his muscle mass can come back with time and diet

the bigger problems are the bone density and chronic fatigue. while Leo can improve these, they'll never be back to where they were before the Dark Armor

his reduced bone density means he has to be careful doing anything physical because the chance he can break a bone is much higher than average, and he stands to suffer more from that break than the average person

he'll eventually get to where he can go through his day-to-day life just fine most days, and can even do some of the physical things he enjoyed before, he just has to be careful and know his limits. he'll never be pulling the 1440 off the halfpipe again, but he can still skateboard as long as he's careful.

even when recovered (as much as he can be), he has bad days and days when the fatigue is really strong. how Leo feels on a bad day is up in the air; sometimes he's at peace with it and generally cheerful, happy to be around his family even if he spends most of the time in his chair or on the couch dozing in and out. other days the depression rears its ugly head and he can get a bit nasty and bitter again. his family is much more patient with him on days like that than he is with himself.

in the beginning Leo also has brain fog and sensitivity to light and sound. these clear up over time, especially once Leo starts making more effort to exercise his brain. he starts reading a lot more and doing puzzles, especially things like sudoku and word puzzles, which helps a lot. thankfully these changes aren't permanent

his inner ears were also damaged a bit, this also heals up largely on its own, sometimes he still has difficulties hearing his brothers if they're whispering or far away but it's not so bad he needs assistance

Leo's Devices

Wheelchair

this is obviously the one Donnie had the most fun building and it shows. this baby is tricked out. Leo also likes to suggest improvements often, some for actual functionality but many just because he thinks it would be cool (like neon lights on the spokes)

it is blue obviously. do you even need me to tell you that?

it's fully electronic but Leo can also wheel it around freely if he wishes. Leo likes to wheel himself when he has the energy because it's good exercise he doesn't have to go out of his way for and he just likes feeling like he's moving himself under his own power. but when he's not feeling up to it he just drives it with the electronic controls instead

it has handles that extend and retract. being allowed to touch the handles is a major sign of Leo's trust and initially it's only for his bros + April + Splinter. Leo hates being moved when he doesn't actually ask to be moved, and he also hates being tipped backwards so his fam knows not to do it even as a joke (and it's so heavy that tipping him is kind of hard, anyway). someone touching the handles or messing around with them without permission gets you immediate backlash from protective siblings

that said Leo has them extended often so he can hang things off them, even though Donnie constantly gripes that that is not their intended purpose!

Sr Hueso is another person who gets handle-touching-privileges pretty fast, and he's also the one Leo asks to move him most often because he thinks it's really funny. he hams it up every time. Hueso is exasperated but does it anyway

(if Hueso adds a few extra wheelchair-accessible tables to Run of the Mill no one has to know)

the chair can also be moved by S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. this is mostly just for emergency situations, or times when the chair is somewhere Leo is not. Shelldon is a very good boy who does not move the chair without Leo's permission.

it has a billion storage spaces and little hidey holes and it can sync with Leo's phone to play music and it also has a charge port for his phone and yeah basically anything Leo and Donnie can come up with goes into this thing. it's a behemoth

Donnie also made Leo a lighter-weight chair with fewer features that he most often uses when he's good using his walker/cane/braces but wants to clear a larger distance first, and eventually Donnie makes him an athletic wheelchair so he can play games like wheelchair basketball

Walker

the walker is also blue but there's nothing particularly special about it

Leo hates using it because it feels like an old person thing. even if realistically he knows there are plenty of reasons people use them, including his own situation, culture is culture and it makes him feel bad no matter what rationality states

so basically once he doesn't have to use it he doesn't

as they all get more comfortable with Leo's situation and he starts openly using humor to cope, jokes about Leo's chair and cane become pretty commonplace in the fam (all good-natured of course). they know the walker is too much of a sore spot though, and poking fun at it is the fastest way to get Leo to do something stupid, so no one does. it's better to just pretend it's not there

Crutches/Canes

he eventually ends up with a variety of these, with different levels of support depending on what he's needing on a given day.

some of the canes are more fashionable than others. this is important to him.

Leo pretty much always has one of these on hand just in case, even on days where he feels alright to walk on his own

he is not afraid to bonk a brother with a cane or crutch but he does so knowing they are free to retaliate

Leg Braces

Leo doesn't need these every day but they're a pretty standard part of his wardrobe at this point

they start out plain but get increasingly elaborately decorated as time goes on because he, Donnie, and Mikey can't help themselves

like the walker, the braces are in the "don't make fun of" zone, though Leo is happy to get positive comments about them and doesn't really need their presence ignored

Other Mobility Aids

Leo has a variety of things to help with his loss of grip strength, difficulties bending over, tremors, etc. all of them are either made by Donnie or ethically "acquired" by April

he drives everyone crazy by leaving them in random places and then forgetting where they are. Donnie starts installing locator tags on everything they give Leo

jokes about these are fine, Leo makes them often himself and has silly names for all of them (this also drives Donnie crazy)

#rottmnt #sidelined au #phew #can't believe it lol I don't need more AUs but here we are #also I do not have any mobility disabilities myself #a lot of this comes from experiences with family + research #however feel free to correct me if I've misrepresented anything!#I do want to be respectful #it's why it's important for me to stress the name of the AU is based on Leo's own feelings (and how he overcomes them)#and not intended as an outward judgement on his situation or abilities

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lilacxquartz · 7 months ago

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Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 8

satoru gojo x f!reader × suguru geto

plot: you moved to tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. as you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

chapter summary: your father celebrated his birthday while Satoru kept up appearances. after the celebration, an unwelcome face shows up in your life again.

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

8. Reunions

The next morning had finally arrived and it was time to get through one of your least favourite time of the year; a family celebration.

You dreaded spending time with your family during certain types of events. Birthdays, celebrations and national holidays all made up those times and each moment spent with your folks felt all the more bleaker than the last.

It was never a simple congratulations with a gift parted away, but it was rather taken seriously, as though you had a script to follow along and play your part right, lest it all came undone.

Just as you had feared also, your parents momentarily paused in their tracks when they spotted you exiting the guest house along with Satoru in tow but they never once referenced it when you were back inside the family home.

This both relieved you, but also scared you.

Satoru immediately found himself separated from you as the two of you were given things to do right away. Both you and your mother took on the bulk of the responsibilities as your father sat himself down with Satoru in his company, curious to talk to the guy.

Every time it came to celebrating anything at all, your father would resign his responsibilities and hand them all off to the women of the household, a certain type of repeated condition that cycled through your mother’s birthday as well as your own.

Opting out of celebrating either was not an option.

As such, you grew to resent your father for his continued silence within the house. Whether it was proven by words or actions, it remained abundantly clear just how he viewed the family dynamic.

Satoru, otherwise to his credit, did offer to help out as he claimed to be skillful when it came to preparing at least sweet things if that’s something that needed help but your father was quick to whisk him away, reminding him of the important of a well maintained household balance.

You wanted to say something about that but you found yourself biting your tongue as you resisted the urge to tell your father off for being too old fashioned.

You knew that Satoru’s mind wouldn’t be swayed so easily, but you still worried about how this all looked for you. On you.

It was a thought that quickly went away as you prepared the food with your mother instead in a strained albeit comfortable silence. Your relationship with your mother wasn’t the best, but you were a reflection of her in many ways. It left you wondering if you had similar dreams, stifled away by a common hindrance.

Occasional small talk would surface but beyond that point, the conversation remained dry. At times she would attempt to thread through the seams by asking you how you’re settling into the city, how you’re finding life by yourself—only for the string to never seal itself off again, leaving a lot left unsaid instead.

And after everything was finally ready and prepped to go, you excused yourself upstairs to change into something a little more suitable for the occasion. Satoru had also been encouraged to do the exact same.

You wore a dress for the event; it was a lot different than the one that Suguru gave you but it was much better fitting for the occasion at hand. A dusty sage green midi dress with semi long sleeves capping at the elbows, decorative buttons and cinching along the waist with long flowy skirting.

Satoru didn’t have to comment, he could have kept as quiet as Suguru did but he couldn’t resist in doing so anyway. His eyes scrolled over your body in a similar sort of way to his friend, but it didn’t feel as strangely looming.

“You look good,” he simply said as he sported something slightly more formal himself. His smile felt genuine as his tone possessed something flirty, however keeping himself in check around the company of your parents.

It didn’t take too long for the rest of your relatives to arrive either, quickly filling out the once quiet house with the drone of chatter instead. A combination of rarely seen aunts and uncles along with the nieces and nephews that scurried around the house as well as your one remaining grandparent.

In total, it was a crowd of an additional eight.

Satoru continued to play his part as he promised; borrowing the spotlight away from you and standing within it instead. He got along criminally well with the chattier aunts, gifting you some breathing room in the process.

He didn’t really mind doing so either, it’s what he promised you, after all.

The relief continued to settle as the dinner finally passed with the relatives that now made their way back home. The secondary comfort being that the worst to come was now finally over and you could be back in the city quite soon again.

Satoru quickly reunited with you as the day came to an end, not saying much to your parents as they retreated back upstairs for the evening.

“We should probably go and find that plum wine for Shoko, right?” he asked, pausing a little as he spoke, it was evening by now and this wasn’t a big town so he wondered if there was any time to begin with, “…If the shops aren’t closed, that is?”

“It’s the brewery in town that sells it,” you replied to him, “everything else is closed but they’re open up quite late.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” he smiled, feeling comfortable once again. He hoped to lift your spirits even if you were on the verge of feeling burnt out, grabbing onto your wrist and leading you outside.

You didn’t protest this a second time, figuring that some fresh air would be good for you.

~~~

The walk to the brewery took a little longer and by the time you got closer to the town square, the sun had already started to set, leaving the settlement basking in a warm orange glow as a thick floral scent wafted in the air.

Satoru personally found himself enjoying the quieter parts of your personality, walking alongside you just because. It was because of the comfort he felt around you that he stopped himself taking things too far, too soon.

Upon reaching the inner town where the supposed bustle usually was, it now seemed closer to being a ghost town rather than what you were used to further down in the country.

You guided Satoru into the brewery, leading him into an almost out of place looking interior—large wooden barrels filling out the interior with decorative dark beams sloping against the roof creating a rustic look.

His eyes wandered around the building as he took it all in, finally settling at the menu just over the counter. The speciality looked like it was beer currently although plum wine did have a spot on there too.

There was a choice to either order to take home or drink out of glasses in the beer garden just outside.

You initially had offered to pay for the bottle because it was something Shoko asked from you specifically, but Satoru quickly stepped in on your behalf and with the bottle in tow, you decided to at least make an effort to tour him around the town while time still remained.

Not that there was much left to show off.

The most that the town had going for it was its greenery; a lush nature backdrop that grew between the cracks and seams with a few traditional buildings scattered throughout. It was pretty typical for rural Japan. Nostalgia unintentionally hit you as you walked through the streets, throwing you back to when you walked around all alone, those many years ago.

Satoru didn’t seem to mind all too much, never once showing discomfort around you as you led him in and out of the many neighbourhoods.

“You know, this place is very calm, actually,” he said, filling out a moment of silence, “but it is boring, I do have to admit that much.”

“I guess it isn’t that bad if you’re either really young or really old, but just not so much in between,” you replied in agreement with him.

“I’m just mostly surprised that you didn’t go insane living here,” he laughed a little, hoping to lighten things up with you. He liked seeing you smile.

“I mean, I did to an extent,” you replied with a bitter smile, “the town itself is fine, it’s just the people in-“

You then froze.

It was as if you had manifested the devil herself; the brief peace that you had experienced seeming to have quickly evaporated—something, someone familiar approaching you to take you back to hell.

You gulped as you surrendered, suddenly shying away and attempting to take a different route down the road instead. This however was quickly caught on by Satoru who had a different idea in mind, not wanting for you to hide from your problems for once.

Maybe the way he was going about it was wrong, since this was your battle to figure out, but he wanted to help in the ways he knew he could.

As a teacher, he wasn’t all that unfamiliar with bullying from an outside perspective, even if he did turn a blind eye to it as a teen and while you were his equal, not a student, he still felt as though it was something better to face than just ignore.

Standing up to Yui might not have been in your cards, forcing her to acknowledge her past might not work, but maybe teaching you that you could just move on from your past?

Not that it was his place but…

It wasn’t as though you were about face someone he didn’t know about, either. He could tell from your body language alone that this was the bully that you spoke of from when you had first met.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he assured you in a softer voice, patting your back to reinforce your folded posture once again, “nothing will happen, I won’t let it.”

In truth, he found the situation almost a little… amusing? He wasn’t a total stranger to the sway of influencial families and how they’d bend the public to their will by abusing their status in life. Seeing similar inner politics being reflected in regular civilian clans was a little strange to him, leaving him wondering exactly what type of mess this other woman was caught up in.

In the cities, sorcerer clans dominated the population. He speculated that in villages and towns, it must have been financial, some type of dominating business or simply just old money.

With that in mind, he thought that the bully in question therefore was overcompensating for something. It was likely that it was a lack of control in her life, so he she took it out on someone who had a history of not fighting back—not that he blamed you for it or anything.

The more he thought about it, the more petty he found it but he at least did get it, even if he couldn’t help but find the whole thing a little funny. For such an irrelevant town, one that he didn’t even know existed until you pointed it out on the map, to drive away its own people was hilarious to him.

What a joke.

And when this woman began to speak, he had to go the extra way to hold back stifled laughter.

“[name]! It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” Yui announced to you in a higher pitched tone, emulating some shred of care as her words feigned politeness. You wondered why this was happening, but upon seeing her eyes flick over to Satoru, you quickly understood why.

Satoru saw through this too, being completely used to this sort of person and situation. He liked attention, but he didn’t like it at the expense of others.

“Hi Yui,” you greeted in a resigned tone.

“Back in town so soon?” she asked in a forced polite voice, she wasn’t going to do anything that got her into trouble, not after the incident anyway.

“Yeah, uh, just visiting because-“ you mumbled, not wanting to indulge but you were cut off anyway.

“—sorry, but can you speak up? You’re so quiet.” she interrupted.

You swallowed away your last remaining shred of sanity, still not understanding why Satoru didn’t allow for you to just take a detour.

“It’s my dad’s birthday, so I’m in town for the weekend,” you replied with some strained added volume.

“Oh, the construction worker, right?”

“Actually he works in a facto—“

“—so, who’s your friend?” Yui asked, cutting you off once again as her intentions were finally made abundantly clear. You were the opening act for her to get closer to Satoru, thinking that a half-assed attempt of small talk would be enough to garner the attention of him.

You paused momentarily, unsure of how to actually introduce him. It was easier to go off on implications with your parents because that’s something you mulled over in your mind for a whole week, however suddenly doing so around your tormentor was a whole different story.

“He’s uh, a close friend,” you replied at long last; he was a fabricated lover, and while he did promise to play his part for you while he was here, you just couldn’t say it to her.

Satoru watched this happen from the sidelines, not wanting to interrupt unless he absolutely had to do so. He considered that he would have to talk to her soon, because his involvement was made clear.

He did find it a little disappointing that you didn’t use the boyfriend line for him though because he would have put on his best act for you.

“Oh, really…?” Yui replied, sounding almost disappointed as her eyes lit up with a new sort of flare, maintaining her friendly smile.

Yui seemed to be completely ignoring you now which you felt was strangely petty given the ages you were all currently in, since you weren’t teenagers anymore like before.

“Just a close friend?” she asked, setting her sights on Satoru next, “well if you’re ever craving some company that’s more suited to your liking, then-“

“Not a chance,” Satoru said, shutting down the attempt right away, not wanting to indulge in it any further. He could admit to being amused by the whole situation, but he didn’t harbour any interest in it all the same.

He dragged you past her as he settled on ignoring the bully instead. In his mind, you two weren’t at school anymore so regardless of what happened back then should be left behind in the past. Had Yui been more aggressive though, then maybe—but it was simple enough to just stifle her ego for now.

He could have gone further, but he didn’t.

As he walked by with you, you were left behind with some type of lingering confusion in the aftermath of things. He didn’t quite put an end to the problem at hand, but he didn’t let you dwell on it any further.

Something about this experience did manage to awake something else for him though, a sudden burst need of responsibility—feelings that were too confusing to understand right away but they were there.

What started off as him putting off his clan duties and showing off to a town he didn’t care about now simmered off into a realisation of wanting to keep you close, no matter what.

It sure felt complicated, though.

“You’re fine, right?” he spoke up after a while now that you both were far gone from the scene; feeling partial regret from making you face your past. He no longer wanted you to do so—wanting for you to move on, instead.

He didn’t like how he felt right now, it felt too familiar, almost. It was like looking into a parallel mirror as he finally understood why you hated this place so damn much.

It was a reminder that things had to be a certain way—just as his own family name emphasised the same point.

At least however, he could change the course of your life by interfering in the same way he was determined to give his students a chance at a more carefree life in spite of the life they’re forced to lead.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I-I just didn’t think I’d run into her here so soon,” you stammered in response, feeling stressed beyond belief from the encounter, thankful that you didn’t have to brave it alone, “I thought I could avoid her, but, I guess not…”

“Don’t sweat it,” he continued, forcing a smile to spread across his face as he pondered his own feelings, “nothing happened anyway, so we can just move on, right?”

“R-right,” you replied, nodding along.

Satoru sighed, he never thought anything would happen anyway. Teenagers could be needlessly cruel, but if Yui belonged to an influential family, then she would be unwise to stain the reputation in adulthood.

Feeling a little protective, he challenged an idea, not quite caring how it sounded.

“In fact,” he spoke just a little quieter than before as he drew you in by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “she’s so irrelevant, hell, this whole town is so irrelevant that you don’t even need to think about it all again after you’re back.”

You responded with a nervous laugh in response, feeling unsure in which direction he was going exactly.

“I’m being serious, [name],” he said again, although moving away from you to gain some distance away from him, “you don’t need anyone else, not when you have me, Shoko and Suguru, so just forget about this place and never look back again.”

(And if you tried to go back, he’d stop you.)

“And my parents…?” you added to the list, still thinking he was joking.

“Nobody else,” he corrected you, feeling a little protective. He wasn’t always like this, so he felt like he really had to emphasise his point since he wasn’t joking around for once.

“I guess you might be right,” you replied as you thought about it some more; it wasn’t like you got anything out of this trip by coming to see your family, all it did was strain your relationship with your parents further.

Then again, this whole progression felt too soon—too fast, to abandon your old life in order to cling onto your new life felt unrealistic as well, no matter how much reassurance you’d get from the trio.

Was this level of attachment normal?

As you considered the implications in your mind, you slowly got used to the idea. To Satoru it seemed simple enough because you didn’t have to leave behind any crucial responsibilities, so the choice to move on was something you’d a fool to not take advantage of.

By the time you were both back at your family home, he led you back inside the guest house and didn’t do a single thing near you because he had you right where he wanted you; where he had his own hopes secured vicariously through your decision.

It wasn’t a malicious action he thought, unlike what you were feeling. This was just him looking out for you, keeping away from a place that was bad for you.

So come the next day, he rushed you out of the town as he barely gave you enough time to pack your things and to say goodbye to your very own parents, eager to get you back to what he thought to be a better life back in Tokyo.

You weren’t going to actually cut off your parents though, even if you had promised so under the spur of the moment. You were going to reduce contact instead and let them influence your decisions less.

As you sat back into the passenger seat of his car, you weren’t quite sure what you were feeling just yet.

It wasn’t quite entrapment as you felt with Suguru when he pushed your boundaries, but it wasn’t quite freedom either.

Regardless of where you went, it felt like the decision to do so was never truly your own.

So, have you managed to change at all?

Or were you still trapped in that shell?

(Is this how your mother also felt at times?)

93 notes · View notes

goosewriting · 5 months ago

Note

I have an inq!cal thought!

Reader and cal both having a crush on the other when they were both on the mantis and just when they finally admit it to the other and get together something happens and cal is presumed to be dead but actually he’s been captured by the empire and turned into an inquisitor and then during a mission reader is on she runs into cal 👀

And like it could be a good ending OR Cal’s conditioning wins and he kisses reader as he runs them through after reader says they can’t fight him and like uh I am very partial to the angst ending

The Bad Ending

summary: years after thinking Cal is dead, reader meets him again as an Inquisitor.

relationship: inquisitor!Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: mention of character death, also actual character death (ahem, you, ahem), yummy angst

word count: 3k

A/N: i too, am very partial to the angst ending so, bon appetit 😌 no but seriously this has been sitting in my wips for FAR too long, i really loved this idea so i hope i made it justice! thank you sm for requesting and the patience dearest anon<3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Somewhere in the Outer Rim, it’s early dawn on a small, often overlooked planet. The first rays of sun hit your face as you’re helping a fellow resistance fighter in loading a truck with some supplies, and it makes you squint. You stop your motions to block the light with your hand held to your forehead, and for a split second, you see a head of red hair in the corner of your eye. Your body reacts on its own, immediately turning and craning your neck to find him. But it’s a false alarm, obviously. The ginger human gives you a weird look as you’re staring, then shrugs their shoulders and keeps walking.

Heaving a sigh, you load the last of the crates, shaking your head at yourself in embarrassment. It’s already been years since you last saw him. Since you saw any of them. The crew of the Stinger Mantis.

You can’t help the small smile on your face when you think back to everything that you went through together. All the adventures, the missions…the sneaking out. Stolen glances here and there, lingering touches that may have meant something more, making the most of every moment because you knew it could be the last. Except that you didn’t actually believe that. All of you knew how risky the missions were, aware of the dangers that seemed to loom around every corner. But you hoped to, wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. None of you was invincible, you knew that. But to think that he would just be… gone. It still stings.

When retrieving the Holocron on Bogano, the Second Sister confronted Cal in the vault, except that you never saw him come out. By then, the Stormtroopers had overrun the place, so you had to leave. But you came back, multiple times, searching for him. Every time unsuccessful.

At some point, you came to terms with the fact that she had probably killed him in the vault, a place you couldn’t access as you’re not Force sensitive. The thought of Cal being in there, bleeding out, alone, BD probably also dismantled by the Imperials… The thought makes you shiver to this day.

Losing Cal took a toll on everyone, and it didn’t take long for the Mantis crew to split up after that. Cere took it particularly badly, blaming herself for the failures, both with Trilla and Cal. Ever since then, you’ve never seen or heard of either Cere or Greez again. So you were on your own.

You’ve been lying low, helping out more from behind the scenes instead of getting into the action like back then. But you can’t deny the fact that you miss Cal every single day. Despite knowing that you’ll never see him again, you can’t help but wonder “what if”. Back then, you two had something going on. You were actually planning on confessing to him after you safely got off Bogano with the Holocron. But those plans were cut short by one very grumpy Inquisitor. You still regret not having told him sooner, as you were fairly certain he felt the same way. To this day, you still dream with Cal at night, picturing what life would be like if he was there with you.

Shaking your head to focus on the task at hand, you look down at the fruit you’ve been holding in your hand. You were so lost in thought, you didn’t even notice that the loaded truck was long gone, and your feet brought you to the city market. The vendor at the stall you’re standing at looks at you suspiciously, so you shoot them a quick smile and put the fruit back into the basket, then stroll to the next stand.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you force yourself to shove the painful memories aside to make room for a mental plan. The rebellion is growing every day, and that means the amount of mouths to feed is increasing as well, so you’re to get provisions at the market. Other supplies like tools and machinery parts were sent off just earlier. The food you’d bring yourself to a hidden spot where your contact told you they’d pick it up. You just have to find a way to smuggle it all out of there unseen by the imperial troops, who walk around the place in regular patrols.

You actually have your suspicions that your contact is either a Jedi themselves, or someone who’s working closely with one, as there’s been rumours here and there about someone with mystic powers having arrived in the village. No matter if they’re true or not, you really hope the rumours will settle down quickly, as it will undoubtedly attract unwanted attention.

After you’re done with your shopping spree, you look at your haul, which occupies several large crates. You grimace slightly, as it’s more than you anticipated. Maybe you can ask that one farmer who owes you a favour if you can borrow his cart, since you can’t carry all of this on your speeder. Getting your holopad out of your satchel, you double-check the drop-off place, and conclude that hiding the crates there will be quick work. The problem is the cart itself; hopefully with enough hay you’ll be able to cover them all to go by unnoticed.

So that’s exactly what you do. The farmer is more than happy to help, and you feel a little bad knowing that you’re about to leave his cart at the pick-up spot, then tell him that there was an accident and it broke down, getting swept away by the river which conveniently ends in a waterfall not far away. You’ll pay him for the cart of course, but even so… you’re essentially lying to his face. While in this case, the end does justify the means, this part of the job still doesn’t get any easier for you.

It’s the same afternoon when you’re loading up the cart. The animal pulling it is tame and knows you, so you bring some extra treats for her. Once you’re done putting on the harness and hiding your crates, you head out. It’s a sunny day, and except for the occasional bleating, the clicking of your tongue and the clinking of the reins, there's not much else.

The air is calm, and you allow yourself to hum a little tune to yourself. As you arrive at a narrow passage between two walls of stone that leads into the valley, the path turns a sharp corner and you can’t really see ahead. Only once you fully turn are you able to take in the image before you, and your blood runs cold in your veins. Not far in front of you, there’s a shuttle parked on the road, blocking your way, and half a dozen Stormtroopers stand with their loaded weapons. You pull on the reins, wanting to turn her around, but as you look behind you, you see more troopers blocking the other way as well.

You bring the cart to a halt instead and turn back to the front, reaching for the blaster under your seat, when from behind the shuttle you see two dark figures appear: an Inquisitor, followed by a Purge Trooper. The latter approaches you in quick strides, pointing one of the two electrobatons at you.

“Get down,” comes his modulated but demanding voice through the helmet.

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what to do. Biting the inside of your cheek, you quickly analyse the situation, concluding that while you certainly can't take on all troopers alone, let alone an Inquisitor, maybe you can make a run for it towards the thicker vegetation. You just have to make it back past the narrow passage you just came from.

“I said get down!” the Purge Trooper barks, clearly annoyed.

“Alright, alright,” you finally respond.

You motion to stand up, as if you’re pushing yourself off your seat with your hands, but instead get your rifle from underneath and, from your elevated position, you shoot the trooper right between the shoulder and chest plates of is armour.

He falls down to the ground with a groan, and you jump off the wagon, making a run for it. You know your rifle can penetrate the normal Stormtrooper armour, so you shoot the ones that had appeared behind you, hitting each one twice, and push past them.

You don’t look back despite hearing the other troopers closing in on you, and you duck as they shoot at you. But you know their aim is not the best, so you keep going, your lungs burning at the sudden effort. You’re just passing the treeline when something knocks you over; you seem to trip over air as you fall face first to the ground, hard. You barely manage to let go of your rifle to brace yourself, and you roll a couple of times from the speed you were coming at.

Everything spins for a moment, and you reach out to grab your weapon and keep going, but an invisible force keeps you pinned to the ground on your back. You groan in frustration and confusion, looking up to see the troopers now gathered around you aiming their blasters at you, yet not firing. They all take a step back to let the Inquisitor walk through, and you give them the best glare you can muster.

The red visor glistens, the sun reflecting on it, as they tilt their head to the side while looking at you. Then comes the modulated voice, calling your name. Not just your name, but your nickname, the one only one person ever used for you. One that you were certain you’d never hear again.

You let out a shuddering breath as you watch in horror how the Inquisitor takes off the helmet, dislodging it with a hiss, to reveal the face underneath.

“So we meet again, after all these years,” Cal says, running his free hand through his hair, looking down at you with a sour face. “After you left me for dead.”

Your mind is reeling, unable to comprehend the situation.

“I- You-” you stumble over your words. “We didn’t leave you. We thought you were dead. We looked for you!”

He gives you a half-hearted chuckle.

“Not well enough, it seems…” he retorts. “Yeah, well, the crew never was much anyway. I work better, alone, after all.”

“You know that’s not true”, you say in a small voice, your body finally catching up to the situation, starting to shiver.

He extends his hand towards you, and you find yourself being lifted off the ground and to your feet, but slowly pushed backwards into the forest.

“Leave us,” he orders without breaking eye contact with you, and the troopers obey, putting some distance between you and them. For every step Cal walks towards you, you take one back, and after a few moments you’re surrounded by vegetation, out of sight and earshot from the others. Only then does he let go of you, and you stand there for a second, looking at each other.

Then the quiet tension becomes almost unbearable. There's so much you want to tell him, ask him. What happened in the vault? Did he ever come looking for you? Even if you never got to tell him yourself, does he know how you felt about him?

“I don’t know if it means anything to you anymore,” you finally break the silence. “But I missed you.”

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing to look at you with this unreadable, almost bored expression.

“Are you going to kill me?” you decide to ask instead, fearing the answer.

“If you stand in my way, I might have to,” he replies, and your heart drops. “You’re not my target, though.”

“Then who is?” Your gaze falls to the ground.

“There’s been reports of a Jedi in the village,” Cal says, taking a careful step towards you. Your eyes snap back up to his, stopping him in his tracks.

“So that’s what you do now? Hunt Jedis?” You don’t try to hide the hurt in your voice.

He merely raises a brow at you, as if the answer to that is obvious. It is.

“And you're okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were a Jedi once, too.”

“Technically, I never got knighted, so no,” he retorts with a hint of a sadistic smile.

You scoff.

“But Cere would have done it sooner or later, I’m sure…”

At the mention of the name, Cal frowns.

“Yet she didn’t,” he states coldly. He looks up into the trees with a deep breath, then picks some imaginary lint off his uniform, his face relaxing back into the nothingness from before. His eyes snap back up to meet yours as he stands still. “And she won’t.”

“W-what do you mean by that,” you ask, horrified. “Is she…”

Again, he doesn’t answer.

“D-did you…”

You see his jaw tense up, and your body runs cold, colder.

“Cal, what have you done,” you breathe, barely audible, and bring your hands up to hide your face. You can feel the tears prickling at the back of your eyes, and you try your best to hold them back.

“I only did what must be done,” he answers matter-of-factly, then takes a step towards you, but you take a quick one back. He stops again. “So what were you planning on doing, exactly? Run away?”

You shift uncomfortably.

“I would have found you either way, just like I did now.”

“I thought I wasn’t your target,” you retort.

“And you aren’t,” he assures you. “But after finding out you’re here, I just wanted… to see you.”

“Why,” you mutter, not really meant as a question. “After all this time. Not like this.”

He takes another slow step towards you, and this time you don't have it in you to back away. Your tears are running freely now, rolling down your cheeks as you hold back a sob. Now standing right in front of you, Cal lets go of his helmet, which falls onto the grass with a soft thud. His gloved hands come up to cup your face, his thumb swiping away a tear over your cheekbone.

“I missed you,” he says in a small voice that doesn’t really fit with his current image.

“And I missed you,” you choke out, placing your hands over his. “So, so much.”

You look into his eyes, now a fiery yellow, and the sight is so unfamiliar, so cold, that you can’t hold his gaze for long, and it falls back down, but you don’t want to look at his black armour either, so you look to the side instead. Your hands still hold his in place, though.

“I really thought you were dead, Cal, but this…” you manage to say after taking several shaky breaths. “An Inquisitor… This is no way to live. It’s not you. We can escape together. Start over. Whatever they did to you, we’ll undo it layer by layer. Please.”

“I’m afraid that's not possible,” he says, dropping one hand while the other moves from your cheek to your chin, making you look at him, and he studies your face for a moment. “But I can’t let you go either. You're working with the resistance fighters, aren't you.”

“I- I’m continuing where we left off, just in a different way.”

“So you are working with the Jedi, and as such against the Empire.”

His hand goes to the back of your neck, holding you in place, and a strange panic starts to settle in your limbs as you realise you can’t move away from his hold. Cal is so close now that you can feel his breath fanning over your cheek.

“If I let you go, will you shoot me?” he asks in a low voice.

You want to scoff, but it’s more of a teary-eyed huff.

“I could never, Cal. I- I loved you,” you tilt up your face to properly look him in the eyes. “I never stopped loving you. I still do.”

He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, his brows furrowing, then scrunching upwards in the middle, as if he just remembered something painful.

“So do I,” he whispers.

You let out a sob, broken-hearted. All this time. All this time and he felt the same, was alive. But now he’s… an Inquisitor. A killing machine, fed by his own pain and anger, a tool used by the Empire to eradicate any remaining traces of hopefulness that people still might harbour.

“I can’t fight you,” he finally says.

“Neither can I,” you assure him.

Then he leans in, kissing you hard, and your mind is reeling. He holds you in place with the hand at your nape, your own coming up to hold his face. He kisses you like he’s making up for lost time, pouring his very being into it, and you reciprocate.

Somewhere in your mind, the metallic clink and the pressure against your side got registered, but with the kiss, it’s too much input to make sense of anything else.

Cal breaks the kiss and pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, and you see a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“But I can’t let you go either,” he whispers against your lips, voice breaking, and before you can ask what he means, you not only hear his lightsabre igniting, you feel it.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream. Within a split second, your upper body feels on fire, and a sharp, unbearable pain prevents you from breathing or thinking straight. You hear your own flesh sizzle as Cal retracts his weapon after running it through you. Even though your legs give in, he holds your full weight, embracing you, and slowly kneels down, bringing you down with him gently.

“C-Cal,” you gasp for air as your lungs burn quite literally, everything around you getting blurry.

“I’m sorry,” he says over and over, caressing your cheek softly as he kisses you again.

With your last effort, your hand comes up to hold his, but it goes limp before it can do so, falling onto the ground. Cal cries into your shoulder, holding your limp body for a long time, until it turns cold.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover, @lovelyygirl8, @cathyket, @wildefire, @ghostkestis

#goose feathers #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi survivor x reader #inquisitor cal kestis x reader #inq!cal x reader #star wars x reader

76 notes · View notes

bloodymarsupials1 · 9 months ago

Text

sooooo, i wanted to make this because i apparently cant reblog and i have no idea why. (i'm referencing the little...challenge? however you want to call it by @drinkyourvillainjuice.

anyway here it is, i also added a few fanfics just cause.

The Second Sight @spoiledblog (demo) You’re an urban legend in a county full of them. When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons. You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

After The End @albywritesfiction (demo)

Your former fiancé and heir apparent of the Aurelian Kingdom, Prince Ædan, has married the love of his life, the fair Saintess Helene. As the nation celebrates their union, you are left alone to pick up the pieces of your broken heart... until you receive two letters. One is an invitation to the office of Prince Ædric, the crown prince's younger brother and rival for the throne. The other is a letter filled with concern from your childhood friend and secretary-in-training, Cyfrin, who is currently assisting your father at your family’s ducal estate in the countryside. Each letter contains a proposition that will change the course of your fate forever.

Which one will you choose?

God-Cursed @wings-of-ink (Demo)

you were found as a newborn, clutched in the arms of your dead mother at the base of a tree. No family came to claim you, but the men who came to your rescue adopted you as their own and became the only parents you’ve ever known. Growing up in the village of Stonebrook, you never want for much, until the day you first fall ill. Life plagues you with a mysterious condition that no one can diagnose or cure. You never know when it will strike or if it will eventually kill you. Living between fear and hope as you age, you try to come into your own as an adult with the ever-looming threat above you. As years pass, your condition seems to improve, until a mysterious mark appears on your body and opens up new questions.

It appears that you’re marked for death with no answers as to why, and your only chance to survive is to go out and seek them.

Journey through the land of Iroda, a fantasy world where the gods have abandoned their people and magic no longer prevails as it once did. Something is brewing that may change this world forever, and you’re in the middle of it, though your role is a mystery you must solve. Wanted dead by some and alive for mysterious purposes by others, you just want to survive. With the help of a few friends, find the answers that you need, and make your choices.

Before We are Ghosts @anjiefiction (DEMO) When a powerful villain threatens the safety of Metamora, you and the city’s heroes go to great lengths to stop him, and ultimately you are forced to pay the biggest price of all.(Against all odds, the heroes win. The victory is hollow.)The doctors are professional, if not sympathetic. They tell you that your body is in the process of slowly shutting down. No, they aren’t sure why. No, there isn’t a cure. When you ask how much time you have left, the faces grow dark. Perhaps a year, they say. Two if you’re lucky.(You thought you could rest. You thought wrong again.)For as threats resurge and the past rears its ugly head, you can only wonder: Do you have the strength to see things through? Will there be enough time?And when the end comes, can you find the courage to say goodbye?

more than me @ryanstillwrites-if (Demo) On a Wednesday morning, you leave your doctor's office with the diagnosis of an inoperable brain tumour and the knowledge of an estimated four months left to live.Suddenly left without any direction in your life, you find yourself in a support group for the terminally ill. Where you expected to find sadness, melancholy and a looming sense of dread at thought of a fast approaching death - all the same feelings you harbour - you find smiles and laughter instead.You're drawn in by the people you meet there, curious and confused by their carefree attitudes. They're kind to you, they take you in, they turn your frown upside down - literally and figuratively. And just when you think you might be beginning to accept your fate; they decide to throw all caution to the wind and whisk you away on the adventure of a lifetime.You don't know what will come of the next four months but with your new friends at your side, you're excited to find out. After all, this is the only life you've been given, and though it may be ending soon; you might as well live it to the fullest.

Omen of Ice @omen-of-ice (no demo) The North has been all that you’ve known your whole life— residing within its icy landscape as part of House Eirlys; Wardens of the North. You’ve never thought you’d one day leave to head south to Vela’thian— the kingdom of the elvhen— much less that you’d head there due to your betrothal with the king himself.What will await you once you arrive? Is everything as it seems? Or is there something more brewing beneath the surface of the seemingly pristine nation?Will you find your way back home? Or will you find something, or someone, worth staying for?Let’s see how your story unfolds…

Mons Immortalium @mons-immortalium-if (DEMO) Mons Immortalium is a fantasy romance interactive story. Human MC falls into the magical land of the faeries, a mountain island that has been secluded from the rest of the world for over a millennium. Break curses, fall in love and beware of wicked faeries. Whatever you do, never give them your true name!

In the Cards @inthecards (demo)

You've always had psychic powers. Reading auras, speaking with the dead, and channeling spiritual energy through runes - these number just a few of the things you're capable of. It's not an unusual gift in the kingdom of Khepris, though it's uncommon enough that you've only met a few other people with such abilities in your small hometown.

After a plague sweeps through the kingdom, unrest bubbles up in the realm known as the Beyond, home to fae and spirits alike. A group of fae who call themselves the Butterfly Court are testing the boundaries between your worlds, and they don't seem to care what harm they may be causing along the way.

With a deck of tarot cards imbued with mystical powers in your possession, you're pulled into the struggle against the Butterfly Court. You must join one of two organizations - the King's Guardians or the Hounds - in order to fight back against this mysterious court… or risk losing everything.

Parasitical @parasitical-if (DEMO)

His flesh, our sustenance. His blood, our drink. His bones, our foundation, His body, our haven.

Five hundred years ago, the Earth was dying. Water polluted, dirt infertile, forests and meadows crumbling to the wars of steel and fire. And so the Order called His Grace, the Lord of Communion, down from where he rested before and He allowed humanity to rest inside his body.

Or at least, that's the story the Order tells.

You grew up under the masked faces of their Exalted, under the stories of Earth past. Rusted metal and cracked plastic; His bone and His flesh. Conflicting worlds, conflicting times, and soon, it might all come to a head.

crown of ashes and flames @coeluvr (demo) The war had taken everything from you.King Luceris had taken everything from you.You were just nine years old when all of this happened. One moment you were in your room sleeping and the next you were walking through smoke and ash trying to find your parents.Love, he said, was the reason he started the war. Ironically, you lost everything you loved but you also lost yourself when he let you survive and dragged you away to his home.In a new Kingdom with no one on your side what choices will you make to survive? Who will you become?Inside of you, there’s something burning for revenge and there’s only one thing I want to tell you. Let it out.

Bleeding Heart @bleedingheart-if (Demo) Congratulations, you got engaged. Whether that is good or bad is ultimately up to you.Shortly after your engagement, your fiancé sets out on a journey to the distant lands of Transylvania, a real estate opportunity that proved too irresistible to decline.With your wedding temporarily on hold, you don't hesitate to respond when your childhood friend Lucy implores you to pay her a visit, seeking your company and counsel with an urgent matter concerning her very own future.The strangeness begins as you arrive in Whitby, a charming coastal town where the Westenra's estate resides.

checkmatein 3 moves @checkmatein3moves (DEMO) YOU are the heir; the child of one of the most powerful women on Oracle Island. When she’s accused of murdering her sister almost forty years prior after the revelation of a suspicious anonymous tip, her power falls to you — but so will her reputation.Many questions present themselves: is your mother a killer? Who wants to see her fall for it? Who will make the next move in the inevitable game? Can you play as well as the rest of them?The Elite Class are full of blood and schemes. Your generation carries the scars of those before them, and thus you all must join the game or face the consequences. But dark intentions are cloaked in silk and diamonds, and the heady taste of power corrupts like an infection.

The Abyssal Song @ri-writes-if (DEMO) In the underworld kingdom, where demons fight for survival against the abyssal monsters, you are just an Oracle. In the distant past the Oracles were at the top of the demonic hierarchy, but those golden days are long gone. You did what you were most afraid to do and now sit under arrest in the royal palace.When the Abyss sends you a vision of a terrible disaster that will happen in the future, you make an inevitable “deal” with the Sovereign to try to change the future and improve your abilities, not only to become stronger and learn more about the coming disaster, but also in an attempt to achieve mind stability.However, what has been happening to you since you received the vision makes you think that you are already slowly but surely losing your mind.Will you be able to maintain your sanity and help others protect the kingdom, or will you become just another name in the long list of Oracles gone mad?

the lonely shore @thelonelyshore-if (DEMO) Meet me at the cabin. Please.You weren’t sure what to make of it. A cryptic late night text sent from your younger sibling, begging you to meet up at your family’s old lake home. The plea for help was as concerning as it was confusing. As far as you knew, neither of you had set foot in the cabin in a decade. You had your hesitations, but Willow seemed desperate. You couldn’t help but oblige.Everything goes downhill fast when Willow's research into childhood ghost stories lands you in a town that doesn't exist. A town where people go missing at an alarming rate, where things that aren't quite human run businesses with hungry eyes, where time runs differently.A town you can't leave.Something about Easthaven is wrong. A supernatural fog permeates the town, so thick you could choke…but you’re one of the only people who seems to notice it. You’re quick to realize the fog keeps the residents ignorant, keeps them passive, keeps them trapped. When people who have long since gone missing start coming back home, you realize Easthaven’s mysteries go deeper than you could have ever imagined.

Kenneski @devilishmango (here)You were ripped away from your home, your life- all because you were accused of using magic. Sent away on carriages, bursting full of others like you, being brought to Kenneski Prison. It’s a prison made specifically to hold those that can wield magic, making it so you are powerless. It’s a death sentence for most that go there. But not for you.

stagnation @stagnation-if (DEMO) It's the year 2524, and you're a defeated God/Goddess/Deity in a place and time where your kind is rarely needed anymore. After being locked away and thought to be dead for nearly a millennia, you wake up.

The Fall of House Black @endemise (DEMO) The fall of House Black, your house, was an imminent thing. A name had never been so cursed that all it could do was bring about death.First, your younger sister in a swimming accident, then your older brother in a case of mistaken identity. As the rest of your family sought to grieve and bring justice to your brother, your older sister was killed in a hunting accident at the end of your father’s bow.The three of you, mother, father, and child, became inconsolable. Broken beyond repair. Your mother unable to bear the weight of life any longer took her own while your father disappeared, gone into the night. When you remain the sole survivor of House Black, you know you must leave, and on the night of your decision, your home goes up in flames with you inside.Then, you awake, dazed with no recollection of anything, and when you look down at your body, you scream. It is wrong. So wrong.

Drink Your Villain Juice @drinkyourvillainjuice (demo) Everyone knows that superpowers come about through three distinct methods.One can be born to their abilities, see them emerge in a moment of great strife, or acquire them through extensive cybernetic augmentation.Everyone is wrong.You’d know. If only that knowledge—and your snazzy slash horrible powers—didn’t come with a host of strings attached. Too bad that was an offer you couldn’t refuse.Did I mention one of the strings was supervillainy?Thrown headlong into a life of crime, balance conflicted loyalties, personal scars, and navigating a web of secrecy and deception, all while maintaining your cover.Above all, remember to drink your Juice. Your life depends on it.

The Gilded @the-gilded (Demo v1.2) Your younger brother, Leo, went missing three days ago. Your parents called the police, and they started investigating quickly. They were too late. Leo had already disappeared into the deepest part of the forest, where the mortals have vowed never to return. The police have offered to contact your family if Leo crosses the barrier back to the mortal side, but their investigation can’t go any further without inviting the wrath of the Fae.The winter solstice is approaching fast, which means that the High Fae are likely gathering mortal children for their great feast. The only way to get your brother back is to follow him into the forest and steal him back from the palace of the High Fae… If you can get there in one piece. The Fae forest is full of tricksters and killers, and you'll likely need some allies to help get you both back home.

VANGUARD @vanguard-if (PLAY) As a faering, you should want to keep to yourself. Your home is a safe haven where your dragon kin people reside; a place of true neutrality. There are no allies to the Midlands, nor are there enemies. Your people simply are, and this will not change.But you were never one much for rules, were you? With whispers of a certain prince in the Northlands allegedly receiving death threats from your docile leader, Cirrus, you could only slip away into the depths of the North to go see for yourself. It's so hilariously outrageous that your peace-loving ruler has such rumours teeming about them.You did not expect to find a bounty hunter bleeding out from her abdomen. And most of all, you did not expect her to know you by name, even through her raggedy breaths. And most of all, you did not expect her to have leads on the one you seek: the Northern Prince.

TWISTED GOLD @icaroif (DEMO) In the wake of an attack on your village that left your father dead and everybody you had ever known missing or the same, you are given one option; find your uncle in the Capital or else run for the hills and never look back. It was never really a choice anyway.

NINE BLOOD DANCES @nineblooddances-if [DEMO] You were a gift. Now to whom? No one knows.All that matters is that you are a gift and not like any of the others of your species. Uniqueness and importance oozes from every fiber of your being. You're important. Everyone says you're important. But why you're so important?Who knows?You must figure out what makes you so special and different. You must figure out what drives you through all circles. And you have to figure out why the nine commanders of Hell all have their eyes upon you and wish to have you by their side.All before the fall of the ninth moon.

Trouble Brewing @troublebrewing-if (Demo) it's all fun and games until someone loses a head!Quinn, your best friend, has brought you some awful news: your illustrious parents, having run out of potential mates for their brood, have set you up with the worst person you know -- Devon Bainbridge. Your intended is uncouth, self-indulgent, and ten years your senior.Of course, if no one can find you, the wedding's off, right?Make daring escape from your family's castle, get pressed into joining a rebellion, and find yourself fighting alongside a plucky bard, a brooding bandit, a naive idealist, and a fool-in-training. Escape marriage, join a rebellion, and find love… or sabotage it all.

ANECDOCHE @anecdoche-if (Demo) You wake up chained to a chair by one of the most notorious gangs in the country, only to be saved by one of the most famous hero organizations only a few moments later. Who wants you so badly that they would hire an entire gang to abduct you, and can you really trust the Supers that have been put in charge of your protection?

Blood of Morana @blood-of-morana (demo) You are one of the people, cursed with Morana’s magic, which gives you power over both winter and death. You can imagine that being one of the White Deaths hasn’t exactly made you the beacon of hope or the icon of popularity among your people. Worse yet, some of your magic has been sealed, making it impossible to witch away the inquisition.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart @doriana-gray-games (demo)

Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!

Make an enemy of a friend and a lover out of an enemy. Solve the case of boredom. Have a pet bird—and best of all, play as a romantically and emotionally stunted genius detective!

nemisi @elegy-if (demo) The struggle between cosmic deities — now worshiped (or abhorred) as gods — tore its way into your planet not long before you were born. Unlucky for you, you were one of the first generations to be born exposed to Excinate, the name given to the radioactive-like sickness that comes from being exposed to magic not of your world. As you've built up a bit of an immunity to the more dire consequences, you were promptly ripped from your family after a doctor's visit when the Excinate got a bit too close to your childhood home. Since then, you’ve been shipped around and transported from facility to facility to be poked and prodded at.Until now. No, now you’re free.Aside from that lingering hunger for flesh you’ve had since becoming infected, of course. Just a little side effect from the radiation, along with a mouthful of jagged teeth and a jaw that can unhinge like a snake.

Burning Academia @burning-academia-if (Demo) You never thought you'd go to college, due to your circumstances. But you especially didn't dream you'd be forced to attend the prestigious Vales Grove University after being attacked by wraiths in their library. What started as a visit to a long time friend, ended with your hands burned, your innocence questioned, and the startling realization magic is real.To apologize for what's happened to you, or more accurately, to keep an eye on you, the Headmaster himself offers you enrollment with all fees waived. With no real choice in the matter, you become a student, and try to ignore the suspicion everyone throws your way. Besides, you have worse things to deal with.Like how you've started to attract ghosts and other dead things, or the fact that there is a very living thing inside your head, waiting for you to lower your guard and take control. And most pressing of all, managing your obligation to a family that hasn't been such a thing in years.Tread carefully, if the ghosts don't devour you, the university certainly might.

lightweaver: Chosen @lightweaver-chosen-if (DEMO) A world where elemental deities share a fraction of their powers to their chosen, bringing upon the age of weavers; humans with the ability to manipulate the elements of their patron.You have been chosen by a mysterious lightning deity—blessing you with the power to weave lightning. But with a troubled childhood haunting your every step, your new abilities present a double-edged sword.The choices you make, the support you receive, and the inner strength you harness define your journey—a journey fraught with anguish, but one that promises a life outside Mother’s grasp.Two divergent paths lay ahead.Will you let yourself heal and grow, or will you fall deeper into the void?

Talon's End @asheepinthenight (DEMO) You were never destined to marry for love.As the third child of the Earl of Eastthorn, your purpose is to marry to your family's advantage, but after one failed engagement already, your prospects are less than promising. So when the Crown calls upon you to infiltrate the lair of an Elven sorcerer in search of a powerful magical weapon, the offer is too good for your family to refuse.But leaving your respectable home to marry an immortal being of immense power quickly puts you in uncharted territory. Between your secretive, disagreeable spouse and their labyrinthine spire infested with strange creatures, your mission to uncover their secrets is risky from the start. But as you come to know both your partner and your new home at Talon's End, you discover terrors and wonders unlike anything you've known–and the true price of your mission.

Leas: City of the Sun @sailingshellsgames (demo) Enter the city of Leas, where humans dwell in safety behind city walls while strange and powerful Fey roam the wilds. Play as one of a rare few skilled enough to explore the outside world, an agent of Den Zarel.After making a dangerous discovery you are sent on a mission that unfolds into an adventure that will unearth more than expected, and more than you alone can handle.Fortunately, you’ll have help along the way: a lifelong friend hiding a dangerous secret, a mysterious and taciturn rogue, and an eccentric and charming mage unite under your banner to help save your city, and possibly, the world

#OMG #IT FINALLY WORKS!!!!!!!#btw this is like page 6 of a 45 page list #all of these are GOOOD and would recommend #my brian goes 'nom #NOM NOm

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the-fiction-witch · 3 months ago

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The Boy Named Luke

Media - House Of The Dragon (AU KINDA) Character - Lucerys Velaryon (Amnesia) Couple - Lucerys X Reader Reader - Sara Storm Rating - 12 Word Count - 1175 Requested -

please write a new one shot for lukeeee

Sara walked barefoot along the golden sandy beach, her woven basket swaying gently in her hand as she scanned the shore for crabs, sea glass, and any other treasures that could be turned into a hearty soup or traded for much-needed provisions. She made sure to stay within the shadow of Stonedance, the ancient castle looming protectively behind her, as she ventured further along the coastline.

Kneeling down, she carefully gathered a handful of glistening seaweed, already considering how she might dry and season it for sustenance. The blockade of the narrow sea had severely limited the availability of food in the region, leaving her with no choice but to forage for whatever she could find.

As she rose to her feet, her eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the expanse of the shimmering water and the distant sails of passing ships. The blockade, initially intended to impact only King's Landing, had cast a wide net of hardship, affecting not only the capital but also reaching the shores of Stonedance and many other southern houses.

Lost in her thoughts, Sara continued her solitary stroll along the beach, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop to her troubled mind. Suddenly, she came to an abrupt halt, her gaze fixed on a figure lying face down in the sand, a solitary and mysterious presence against the serene backdrop of the coastline.

She dashed over as swiftly as her feet could carry her, Setting her wicker basket down with a thud, she knelt beside the figure lying on the ground. It was a boy, perhaps a year younger than her, she thought, with tousled dark hair that was matted with blood. His clothes were torn and stained, and his body was bruised and battered. He lay there, soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. Despite his obvious distress, he could barely open his eyes, but the faint rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was still breathing.

“Oh- praise the gods,” she gasped removing her knitted shall and wrapping it around him to keep him warm, “You poor thing,” she cooed, “Let's get you warm and away from the waves,” she said,

She looked around for a moment and spotted an old, weather-beaten wheelbarrow that someone had discarded on the beach. With a determined look on her face, she dug it out from the sand, the grains sticking to her fingers, and brought it over to where he lay. She carefully lifted him into the wheelbarrow, making sure he was comfortable, and began the challenging task of pushing it through the uneven sand. With each step, she focused on keeping the wheelbarrow steady, determined to bring him to safety. The sun beat down on her back as she made her way back up the beach, the sound of crashing waves providing a backdrop to her determined efforts to take him with her.

Sara took the boy home and set him up in her bed, she made the fire warm and cosy, made hot tea and the last of her potato soup. She looked over all his wounds finding some of them strange to her, his leg puzzled her the most it had been punctured but not by steal or lance it was far too wide and deep, by the looks of his wounds she almost thought he’d been bitten. Her mind began to run thinking of some hellish Kraken below the waves that may have tried to consume the poor boy, but she tossed away such worries happy she found him when she did.

She dedicated herself to the task of tending to his wounds with meticulous care, gently cleansing and wrapping each injury before applying a soothing blend of herbs and oils to promote healing. Despite her lingering concerns about the severity of his leg injury, she spared no effort in ensuring his comfort and well-being. As the ominous clouds gathered on the southern horizon, she vigilantly monitored his condition, shielding him from the impending storm by maintaining a warm and dry environment within her humble abode. With unwavering determination, she tended to the fire and diligently kept the stove pot simmering, fortifying their sanctuary against the battering rain. Every creak and groan of the house under the assault of the tempest spurred her into action, as she meticulously sealed every crevice with makeshift barriers of rags to fend off the invasive drafts and potential leaks. When a stubborn leak defiantly announced its presence through the roof, she swiftly positioned a small pan beneath it, the soft pitter-patter of the droplets creating a rhythmic melody amidst the cacophony of the storm.

The thunder made the boy stir slightly, so she softly ran her hand through his hair to soothe him, gently humming in the hope of helping him rest through the harsh storm.

“Mother…” he gasped as he stirred once more,

“Shhh… it’s okay, you’re alright,” Sara cooed,

Slowly his eyes fluttered open and met with Sara, he seemed confused he tried to sit up but found it too painful,

“Don’t try to move, it’s alright you’re safe here,” she reassured, “here, drink this. It’s not much but it should help,” she said making him a bowl of potato soup and bringing it over for him,

“T-Thank you miss…” he shivered taking the bowl and sipping away at the soup, that warmed his insides and his very soul, “Where… where am I?” He asked,

“Stonedance,” she answered,

“Stone- Stonedance?”

“Mhm, south of Dragonstone and North of Storms End if that helps?” She smiled,

“No- not really.”

“That’s alright, what matters is your safe,” she said, “Do you remember what happened?”

“No…I… I don’t remember anything,” he answered rubbing his head, “How- how did you find me?”

“You were washed up on the sand, almost frozen to death so I brought you here.”

“Thank you,” He said,

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, “It’s no trouble at all, and you can stay here as long as you need to.”

“I couldn’t-”

“It’s alright really, I’d be worried sick about you if I tossed you out in this storm.” She explained, “You can stay as long as you need, at very least until your better.”

“Thank you miss,” He softly smiled, “Thank you so much- I- I don’t know how I could repay you I- I don’t think I have any gold I-”

“Don’t worry about it, just focus on getting better.” She cooed, “Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

“I just remember rain… and then falling… hitting the water… and waking up here.”

“Ohh you poor thing,” she cooed, assuming the poor boy was thrown off a ship in the rough narrow sea and ended up washed up there. “Well you don’t need to worry, you’re safe here and I’m happy to look after you until you're better.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, “I uhh I don’t know your name?”

“Sara,” she smiled, “And you? Do you remember your name?”

He sat for a moment clearly digging deep in his mind looking for the answer, “I… I think I…” he stuttered, “Luke.” he nodded with confidence to his voice, “My names Luke.”

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harryforvogue · 1 year ago

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Bringing the Queen Home*

hi yes hello. this fic is about persephone being a late to returning to hades!harry, so he decides to take matters into his own hands. 6.5k words and, as always, happy reading :)

tw: mention of child passing away

***

Hecate and Hermes glance at each other as Harry stalks past them again, the look on his face murderous. The effects of his rage have been prominent from the trembling of the palace walls and the cold air shifting through the gardens. His arms are behind his back as he paces, hands in fists.

Hermes is the first one to speak. “Er, my king. Perhaps we should look into communicating with Dem–”

“Say her name and I’ll kill you.” Harry’s growl is demonic. He turns his black eyes to Hermes, daring him to say more.

Hermes (tries to) stand his ground, but he shifts back towards Hecate against the corridor wall and murmurs, “Your turn.”

Hecate doesn’t bother. She’s been around an enraged Harry too many times to interfere. Whatever plan he comes up with will be his own and then he can’t go around blaming other people for the hole he digs for himself.

“A week,” Harry’s muttering to himself. “What could have made her so upset that she’s late for a week. I understand a day. Maybe even two. But 7 entire days is ridiculous.” He runs a hand through his hair, gripping it tight at the base of his neck.

Harry paces in the dimly lit hallway outside his bedroom for a little longer. And then, suddenly, he stops. Hecate knows he has a plan from the way he lifts his head sharply, eyes returning to their normal color.

“We must go up and get her.”

Hermes groans. “You’re still technically barred from leaving the Underworld, remember?”

It’s true. Last year, he’d been visiting Persephone after a particularly terrifying dream about his father, and only wanted solace in his wife. Persephone had kept it a secret very well, and had cradled his head to his chest while waiting for him to calm down. But as he was leaving, disguised as a black snake, Helion, the traitorous bastard, had identified him and alerted Zeus. And as a result, Hermes was sent to “guard” the king of the underworld to ensure he did not break the clause in his contract that (paraphrased) stated, “Do not be stupid and leave the Underworld while your wife is gone or I shall fry you on the spot.”

Also as a punishment, Zeus placed Hades on something that the mortals had made up. “House arrest” he’d called it, looking quite pleased with himself for thinking of it.

“I’ll be invisible,” Harry says.

“It will not be enough!” Hermes groans, his head in his hands. “You put me through so much stress. If I were mortal, I sure would have one of those things. Those heart conditions. The, er. Heart…heart…”

“Heart attack,” Hecate mutters.

“Yes. Precisely!”

Harry is unfazed. “You will cover for me, and if you should refuse, I will keep you as my personal servant and messenger for the next five years.”

Hermes looks up, horrified. “Five years? You’d be that cruel?”

“Quite. Do you want to defy me?” Harry’s voice is low and challenging.

“But your brother–”

“Will never find out. I must get my wife.” Harry prowls closer to him, power radiating off him. His eyes are growing black around the edges again. “Hermes. What is your answer?”

When Hermes is all but backed to the wall with a looming, murderous man above him, he yells, “Fine! Fine! I won’t tell!”

“Good.” Harry doesn’t look away from Hermes. “Hecate.”

“Yes, my king?”

“My chariot.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Hecate?”

“Yes?”

“You must stay here and look after the kingdom.” Harry finally pulls away from Hermes when the other deity starts cowering under the dark glare. “I will be going tonight.”

Harry steps back and looks at both of them pointedly. They nod back, and then Harry disappears into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

***

There’s nobody else capturing her attention, Harry tells himself as he removes his crown from his head. He’d dressed up well for his wife’s return, adorned in jewelry and the finest material. He turns the crown in his hands. There’s nobody more important to Persephone than he. There can’t be.

So why is she not home?

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, falling down to his shared bed. He tosses the crown away. Could she be upset with him? So filled with rage that she doesn’t wish to see him? Was he not writing back to her well enough? Was he not telling her enough, how much he loved her? How he ached to touch her? Kiss her? Was it not enough?

Is he not enough?

Does she not wish to be his wife anymore?

His chest tightens, and Harry thinks it’s all too mortal of him to feel the physical ailments of his agony.

Persephone loves him. He knows that. He does. So why does he–?

Harry stops himself. He stands up again and fixes his clothing. He then prepares for his journey, hiding sheathed bronze weapons in his suit, tucking his invisibility cap close to him as well. It matters little of the reason for her reluctance. He will bring his wife home.

Before he leaves his chamber, Harry looks at himself in the mirror, a picture of terror. He forces his face to relax. Persephone always tells him not to be so severe. He can feel her soft fingers pull apart his eyebrows that she swears are connected. He can feel her lips on his jaw, kissing away the tension. My love, she murmurs, arms around him tight. I just want to see you smile. Please?

So then it is decided. Whatever the reason for her hesitance is, he’ll deal with it. Whether it’s a duty, or another man. He will be rational.

***

Harry is anything but rational, he finds.

Because Persephone isn’t with her mother at her palace. In fact, Demeter’s already weeping and grieving and all that fucking bullshit. The earth is cold, winds picking up as he leaves the palace.

Persephone isn’t with her mother. Persephone isn’t with him. She’s elsewhere, and now he’s angry at her.

Now that the familiar feeling has returned, Harry wants nothing more than to quickly identify where his wife is and demand answers. So after a brief break within the trees, he stalks out of the woods then, and closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down so that he can grasp the connection between him and his wife.

He might have felt even a flicker of something if he weren’t so angry. He opens his eyes and begins walking in the usual direction Persephone takes to return to him. Demeter has previously expressed that she doesn’t like seeing Persephone leave the way she comes because it’s “too close to home” so Persephone usually goes a town over before returning to him.

Harry’s footsteps against the earth are hard, and he catches himself caught up in his rage when the trees around him begin to shake.

What could have been so important that she refused to return home to him?

The town over is quite far, and Harry uses the long walk to try to calm down. He doesn’t want to be raging when Persehone sees him for the first time in six months.

By the time he reaches the town, Harry’s feeling lighter. He’s said a few mantras to himself — which Hermes told him before he left — and taken a few breaks in between miles. He’s done well, he thinks. At least by the standards of the King.

He walks on the town’s cobblestoned pathway, winding between makeshift houses and temples. At nearly every door, he stops and closes his eyes, trying to feel his wife’s presence. But everytime, he comes up short, devoid of any trace of her. He doesn’t immediately give up even though the irritation returns. Instead, he walks to each establishment, including the pubs and hotels, hoping he can feel her.

It isn’t until he’s about to leave the town and angrily trudge to the next one that he violently stops, turning his head.

There. He feels her.

He slowly turns around and scans the land. The town is busy preparing for winter, several men walking in front of him with wood on their backs, the women carrying baskets of vegetables into their homes. Some of them are bandaged, some of them limping.

But despite the excitement. Harry can feel a faint glimmer, and it tugs at his heart. He looks around. She wasn’t in the house. Not the shops. Not the pubs. She’s–

The infirmary. His eyes narrow in on the small hut-like building made of remaining bricks and wood, barely put together. His feet begin to walk him in that direction.

She can’t be hurt. She’d heal immediately if she was.

But that reminder doesn’t make him any less worried. Suddenly, he feels stupid for being angry. Never once did he consider she could be hurt. He just assumed she’d be able to take care of herself.

It’s not a busy infirmary, though. There are a few children laying on cots with their mothers near them, but aside from that and the one healer, the room is empty.

Harry walks through it, careful not to make any sound. He hovers over the children, their pale faces flushed with fever. With a tight jaw, he holds his hand over them and reaches, removing their pain. He can’t completely heal them, but he figures anything will help. The children, barely of ages 5 or 6 he assumes, relax into their bed, eyes fluttering shut. To their mothers, it looks like they’ve fallen asleep.

He steps away and then turns back towards the room, glancing around.

The healer is dressed in all white, tall and kind. She is currently busy with helping a child enter, taking the baby of barely six months in mortal time from its father and resting it on her hip. She cradles the baby’s head to her chest and sighs softly, gently bouncing. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “You’ll be just fine.”

The mother rushes in, eyes filled with tears. “I did as you asked, Miss. Only natural milk. As you asked.”

“Yes,” the healer says softly. She brushes her fingers over the baby’s full cheek. “And you must leave the rest to me. I assure you, she will be well in a day’s time.”

When the healer turns around, Harry stops.

Persephone. Wife.

Harry immediately goes to her, but stops when she starts walking in his direction. She’s disguised herself well, the opposite of what she really looks like, but her gentle eyes remain. Wholly focused on the baby. She brings the child to the cot closest to him and lays her down gingerly, reaching for a wet cloth. The baby has miraculously fallen asleep, no doubt Persephone’s work, and she puts the cloth over her eyes.

She stands again to address the parents. The father has his arm around his wife, holding her tight as she cries against him. “She will be okay,” Persephone whispers. “I promise you.”

Some more reassurance and then Persephone steps back to let the parents sit. She goes around to the other cots, nodding when the parents thank her for her help.

And then she’s finished with her round. She stands at the back, her hands clasped in front of her, a look of determination on her face. But her eyes. Her eyes look sad.

Harry steps closer again, wary of coming into contact with her. He can’t reveal himself. Not here. He’ll have to wait until it’s dark. Or at least until a few candles have been extinguished.

So he busies himself. He too walks around and removes the pain from the children, incrementally taking away the parents’ sorrow. It goes on for several hours. He’d never known parents could feel such hurt over their children, but then again – how would he know?

And he also watches his wife flutter around. Persephone makes stew over the fire and pours it by the ladle for her patients, passing the bowls around to the children and their parents. She sits with them, whispering even more kind words. Pretends to their food.

Harry’s anger is gone. All he feels now is a tremendous amount of love for his wife. He cannot name a single other god or goddess that would do such a thing for mere mortals.

At nightfall, Persephone goes around and blows out the candles. She leaves only two and then she gathers herself, exiting the infirmary. Harry trails after her, and once she tells her replacement the updates on the children, she turns the corner and rests her back against the brick wall, staring out into the night. He sees her lips moving silently as if praying.

His heart gives a start in his chest, the bond between them growing tight.

She’s talking to him.

Harry approaches carefully. He removes his cap, walking in the shadows to avoid any lingering eyes from the distant town.

Persephone sees him from the corner of her eye. She wipes her hands on the front of her dress, pulls a happy face on and then turns to him. “Good evening, sir. How can I–” She trails off when Harry steps into the dim light of the lantern perched outside. “Harry.”

“Wife,” Hades greets, eyes running over her face. He hesitates, suddenly feeling ridiculous standing so far from her with his hands tucked into his pockets. This is their reunion. He should be grabbing her. Kissing her.

Scolding her for not sending a message.

Persephone must see it all on his barely lit face. She suddenly crumbles, her shoulders dropping. With a glance around to ensure nobody is watching, she waves a shaky hand over her face, revealing her true appearance. Harry’s heart aches at the sight of her, his hands flying out of his pockets to grab her face.

“My darling girl—”

“Harry.” Her lips tremble.

“Yes. Yes, Kore,” he whispers, pushing her back against the wall. Her own hands grip his shirt. Every thought in his head disappears when he brings his mouth down, draping his body over hers. He kisses her hard, 6 months of sadness rushing out of him. “My love. My wife.”

Persephone’s hands trail up to his face. Then his hair where she knots her fingers in his curls. “I should have told you,” she says softly. “I know. I should have. But I couldn’t– I didn't think –” she suddenly cries and throws her arms around him, hugging him fiercely to her. “Harry. I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t understand?” he whispers, cradling her head as she’d done for the baby. He feels himself crumble when her body trembles with sobs. “I would have. I would have, love.”

Persephone shakes her head. “You were angry. I felt it. The ground shook and I knew it was you. Oh, but Harry. I couldn't walk away from this. They needed me. The poor children. The mothers. The fathers. They’ve suffered so much already. My mother did it. I left and she– the storm. It ruined houses. Everyone was hurt or sick. The healers did their best but there weren’t enough of them so I–”

“Shhh.” He turns his head and kisses her hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay now. They’re doing well.”

“I lost a few. Got here too late and now they’re–”

“We’ll see to them. Once we’re home, we’ll see to them, I promise you.”

Persephone raises her head. Tears slide down her cheeks, desperation in her eyes. “We will?”

“Of course.” He wipes her face gently. “They’re your people. And you are their queen.” He presses his thumb to her lips when it looks like she’ll keep crying. “I love you, Kore. I was worried about you. And yes, I was very angry too. But I understand now.” He cups her face. “So let’s fix everyone and go back home, please. I’ve already lost a week with you and I would hate to lose more.”

Persephone sniffles and nods. She wipes her face and kisses him again, sweeter and softer this time. “Okay. Yes. I love you. I want to go home.”

Harry doesn’t let her go for some time. He kisses her until she can’t breathe, and then kisses her tear streaked face, her neck, and shoulders. Anywhere he can reach. And he holds her tight to him, making up for lost time.

“I love you,” he rasps against her cheek. “My wife.”

The only thing that breaks them apart is a sudden shriek.

They jerk apart, glancing at the infirmary and then each other. The other healer who replaced Persephone rushes out, wildly looking around. When she spots her, Persephone is already in her disguise, and Harry stands several feet away, invisible.

“What is it?” Persephone demands, running into the infirmary with the other healer. “What?”

“The babe,” the healer says miserably. “He’s gone. The one with the fever from yesterday. He’s…”

Harry follows behind them. The parents of the boy at the end of the line of cots are crying, huddling around their son. Persephone runs to them, meeting the family from the opposite side of the makeshift bed. She tends to the son, but Harry knows, and he knows that she feels it too. As the King and Queen of the Underworld, they’re too accustomed to death to not feel it.

He sees it on her face. The grief. The sudden sadness. The anger.

The other healer is trying her best. “I was only checking him. He looked flushed. I was just–”

Persephone raises a hand, quieting her. “Please.”

“I couldn't have–”

“I know. I know.”

Harry watches his wife stand and stare down at the now incomplete family. For several long seconds, she lets the family cry. And then she raises her eyes up to stare at where Harry is, piercing him with her gaze despite his invisibility.

He slowly nears, beckoned by her. Harry carefully places a hand on her shoulder and then reaches for his cap. Persephone’s eyes close, tears dripping down her face, hands tightened into fists.

Then, she opens her eyes and looks at the healer. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For your help.”

“I should have done more,” the healer tries, crying. “I should have done more, miss.”

“No,” Persephone says. “You did well. Please. Take a rest. It’ll be okay.”

“I can’t–”

“You will.” Persephone’s voice hardens slightly, though it still shakes. “Now.”

The young healer holds a hand to her mouth to stop her mouth and leaves the infirmary.

The parents before her are still crying loudly. The other children and parents are waking, but Harry cannot have that. He releases his cap and walks to each cot, waving a hand over their faces to put them back to sleep. It’s not a power he’s familiar with so it takes more energy out of him than usual, but soon, they've all returned to sleep and all is silent except for the cries.

Persephone dims the candles and then nears the parents. She kneels before them. Harry’s beside her again. She reaches out to touch their hands.

“Listen to me,” she says quietly. “You must listen to me.”

The grieving parents glance at her shakily. Harry can’t look at them for too long. Even the King can’t bear this type of suffering.

“My baby,” the mother gasps, digging her fingernails into her skin. Her face is red and blotchy. “My-my only baby.”

Persephone looks behind her and nods. Harry removes the cap from his head, revealing himself. Two pairs of widened eyes slide over to him, horror growing on their faces. The mother shrieks, throwing a hand over her mouth, and she goes to rise out of fear, but Persephone’s honey voice keeps her still.

She reveals herself afterwards, but it only makes the parents shudder, their mouths opening to scream. Persephone shakes her head and pats their hands calmly.

“My name is Kore,” she says softly, power radiating from her. “And this is my husband, Aidoneus. It’s okay.”

Terror sprawls over the young parents’ faces. They grip each other tightly when they look at Harry. He can feel the intense spike of emotions when they do. He’s used to it, and normally he’d enjoy it, but now’s not the time.

Harry walks forward and kneels before them as well, putting his hand over his wife’s. “Your child is safe.”

A king on his knees. If Zeus were here, he’d rage. Perhaps Harry would too, if Persephone weren’t besides him leading.

“Yes,” Persephone says kindly. “Your child was a good person. And he has passed onto our realm. But we promise to treat him well. I shall ensure his happiness. He shall wait for you until you, too, are ready to come.”

Hades and Persephone give the parents time to understand. Their breaths stutter, chests blooming with ache, knuckles white, but they remain still, simply looking at the pair of them. The mother seems to have trouble breathing, the father absently rubs his wife’s back.

She is the first to recover and move. She throws herself onto the floor before Persephone and Hades, her forehead touching the hard ground. “Take me now, my King and Queen. Please. Take me now!”

The father is still frozen in his seat. Harry levels his eyes at him while Persephone tends to his wife. It’s better that way. Harry’s never been all that great at calming mortals, not even the dead ones.

“It is not your time. Not yet. And that is not our job. But when the right moment comes, you shall see him again.”

The mother continues to sob, clutching Persephone’s toga. “No. Please. I can’t bear to live without my baby. It took years to conceive him. I cannot. I cannot–”

“You’d do best to calm your wife,” Harry says to the father. “Mine only speaks the truth. You will be reunited and that is my oath to you, my humble worshipper. You must be patient. Do you not trust your King and Queen?”

“O-of course,” the father stammers, shakily reaching for his wife. He roughly draws her to his chest. “Darling. We trust them. We trust them with everything, don’t we?”

It takes some convincing to get her to start agreeing. She hides her face in her husband’s shoulder and softly weeps. “We do.”

“And I thank you for it,” Persephone says. “We must get going, but fear not. Just wait for the day you’re reunited.”

“Yes, my Queen.” The father watches Harry and Persephone rise. “We will. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Harry takes his wife’s hand and tugs her closer, slanting her a look. “We have no choice but to leave now,” he murmurs. With a nod of his head, the crying parents suddenly grow tired, and then they lay their heads down on the bed, falling asleep.

Then, it’s just Harry and Persephone. She squeezes his hand and nods, looking around the room. “The rest of them should be okay. He was our sickest child.” Persephone sighs. “My mother will have to answer about this.”

“They’re mortals,” Harry reminds her gently, taking hold of her chin. “Demeter will not suffer any consequences.”

“But they become our people once dead. She should care about that, if anything.”

“My love.” He holds her face a little tightly. “We will see to it once we return home. Yes?”

Her eyes are troubled as they look around at his face. “Yes.”

“Good. Now come.” He begins to lead her out of the infirmary, slowly so that she can scan her eyes over the cots once more.

Outside, Harry takes his invisibility cap and puts it on her head. He bends down to kiss her and then transforms into a snake, dropping by her feet. Instead of slithering on the cold ground, he wraps his body against her warm leg and nestles his head on her thigh. Though she’s invisible, he knows she’s looking down at him fondly.

“Home,” Persephone whispers wistfully. “Let us go home.”

***

Later when they’ve settled, Hades watches Persephone thank Hecate for keeping things running while both rulers were gone. And as soon as Hecate has left, Harry crosses the throne room to her.

Persephone’s eyes widen with happiness when he wraps his arms around her and picks her up, spinning her around.

“Harry!” she giggles.

He doesn’t put her down right away. He holds her flush against his chest and looks up at her, eyes dark. “Shall we go to our chamber, my darling beloved?”

Her eyes turn golden and she catches her lower lip between her teeth. She nods, kicking her legs behind her. Harry moves her, throwing her over his shoulder before beginning the ascent up the long stairs to their room.

“Harry!” She’s hitting his back. “Careful!”

Once the door is locked, Harry pulls her back down and tosses her onto the bed.

Persephone laughs, a beautiful fucking melody, leaning back on her palms. She takes in her devilishly handsome husband clad in his typical all black attire with a tilted gold crown resting on his brow. “You always do that. Throw me on the bed whenever I come back.”

She watches him unbutton his shirt slowly. “Oh yeah?” he murmurs. His voice is so deliciously velvet, she grows warm.

“Even did it on our wedding night.”

Harry’s dimple shows. “What a night that was.”

“I think I still hated you.”

“And I shall be the one to let you know that I was utterly, completely…” he leans down to kiss her, voice just barely a whisper, “and pathetically in love with you.”

Persephone loops her arms around his neck. He focuses his weight on his hands. After the brief trial of the kiss, her eyes appreciatively ogle at his thick arms, and soon she’s pushing the shirt down and off the floor. Her hands make quick work of his pants.

“As you still are,” she says, blinking up at him with innocent eyes.

“As I still fucking am.”

She’s still in her toga, so it’s easy to get her out of it. Once it’s off, Harry pushes her down on her back so he can take her in. She shivers under his dark gaze. Harry removes all his clothing and then joins her on the bed. Before he touches her, she reaches for his crown, carefully removing it from his hair and setting it on the pillow beside her. She does the same with her own.

And then she takes his hand, curiously looking at all the new rings. Harry remembers how she’d compared their hand sizes on their wedding night. How she’d stared up at him with wondrous, lust drunk eyes after tracing his long fingers. He suppresses a shiver at the reminder.

“I’ve got you some new ones too. Cut them from the finest stones,” he murmurs, holding the back of her head as he kisses her feverishly.

“You can’t keep these on,” she tells him in a small voice, her eyes lit with something he adores. “Shall I take them off?”

Harry’s mouth grows into a smirk. “Go ahead.”

Her eyes remain on him as she brings his hand closer to her mouth. She brushes a kiss on his knuckles and then slowly turns his hand to the side and bites down on the ring on his middle finger.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, growing harder.

She slides the ring off carefully and then holds it in her mouth until he places his other hand below her chin. She drops the gold into his awaiting palm.

She continues to do the same for the rest of his rings, but when she gets to his wedding band, she presses a kiss to it and then grins up at him.

“All done,” she murmurs, tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth.

Harry surges forward and grabs her face, leans down for a breathtaking kiss. Her tongue licks into his mouth, and she grinds up against him, gasping at his hard thigh against her core.

“If I were alive,” he whispers. “That alone would have killed me.” Persephone has the audacity to smile sweetly, fluttering her lashes against the bridge of his nose. “I want to taste you,” he says, holding her face tightly between his now ringless fingers. He drops the rings onto the side table, and then lays down, getting himself comfortable between her thighs.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, I want–”

Persephone’s breath hitches when he glides two fingers through her folds, hands reaching out to grab his hair.

“So wet,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to her thighs. “So fucking pretty. Is this all for me, wife? Tell me it’s all for me.”

“S’for you,” she says softly, cupping his face gently. “It’s all for you. Just… Could you–”

He slowly presses the two fingers inside of her, watching them sink in. She always takes him so well. Wary of their time apart leaving her unprepared, he takes his time opening her, tilting his fingers up and rubbing until she cries out.

“There! There. Yes,” she groans. “Oh, fuck!”

Harry grips Persephone’s left thigh, keeping her legs apart as he leans down and drags his tongue against her. She jolts again, and Harry has half a mind to raise his head and grin at her. The idea goes out the window, however, when her fingers in his hair tighten and she raises her hips to meet his mouth.

“Fuck.” She looks down at him, her eyes golden. The black sheets on their bed are rumpled, and with his wife sprawled above him Harry doesn’t know if there could be a better reunion. “It’s so unfair.”

Harry turns his head to press kisses to her soft inner thighs. “What, my sweet?”

“This,” she whispers, running her thumb over his cheek. “Having to be away from this.”

He smiles and laps her up again, crooking the fingers already inside of her. She cries out, body shuddering from the relentless thrusting of his middle and ring finger.

“I know darling.” His words are gentle, but his grip is anything but. When he brings his mouth back to her, he tastes her like he’s starved, eyes fluttering shut and losing himself in the feeling.

His little wife whines, gripping his curls tight. Besides him, their crowns are falling to the floor where their clothes are thrown in different directions. She’s breathing hard, and despite how many times they’ve found themselves in this situation, it never gets less arousing. Exciting.

Harry’s entire body is feverish. He sucks gently on her clit which makes her quiver. His hard cock is trapped between him and the mattress, but he cares little for it right now. All he knows is his wife’s desperate whimpers and pleas.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispers to herself. Harry feels her tighten around his fingers. Before she can come, he pauses and raises his eyes to glance at her. There’s a thin sheet of sweat on her body. Her perfect, jaw dropping body that he plans on worshiping once the initial desperation is out of his body.

“Harry,” she begs, eyes fluttering open. “I want you inside. Please. It’s too much— It’s not— I miss you so— I thought about it every day…”

He pulls away from her, gently removing his fingers. His lips drag up, skating over her hip bones and then up to her ribs. His mouth kisses each individual rib, and then wraps around her nipple. She gasps when his tongue glides over, her fingers twitching with more need.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing up her collarbones, shoulder, and then finally her neck. His hands are on either side of her head, trapping her underneath him.

She looks up at him with wide, fucked out eyes. It’s already enough to get him to spill, and she doesn’t help when her hand reaches out to wrap about his cock, giving him slowly pumps. He releases a breathy moan and continues to kiss her neck. He sucks a spot right below her jaw.

“Please,” Persephone whispers, wrapping a leg around him. “Harry. I need it. Waited for so long. I waited–”

“You did,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her mouth bruisingly. “You waited for me.”

“For months– I waited for months. I can’t– I can’t think–”

“I know darling,” he coos. “I know. You were such a good girl waiting for me. And you deserve a reward for that.”

“I do. I deserve it.”

“Even though you made me wait for an entire week, hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my love, I should have never done that,” she sobs.

With a quick maneuver, he has Persephone on her stomach, and he hovers over her, using his knee to pull her legs apart.

Persephone lifts her hips to meet his, burying her face into the sheets. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

Harry leans down to kiss down her spine, occasionally biting and then relieving the pain with his tongue. With a hand under her stomach, he pulls her up, just enough so he can slot himself between her thighs.

“I want you inside of me,” she tries again.

“Persephone,” he says warmly in her ear. “Are you asking me to fuck you?”

She groans, grabbing the satin sheets tightly. “Yes, yes.”

“Tell me then, wife.” He carefully holds her hips, lining himself up against her entrance.

Persephone trembles beneath him. “I want– I want you to–” she takes a deep breath, skin hot. “I want you to fuck me, Harry.”

He smiles. “Good. And tell me this, my sweet angel. Do you want me to fuck you hard, or should we take our time? Should I fuck you nice and slow instead?”

She’s in near tears from the anticipation. “Hard,” she says, glancing at him over her shoulder. Her eyes swim with need. “Hard. I want it hard and fast.”

Harry raises his eyebrows.

“Please!” she begs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He wastes no time after that, easily sliding into her. He grits his teeth at the feeling, her walls fluttering around him to get readjusted to his size. It’s one of his most favorite feelings. After six months of being deprived, her body needs to accommodate him. Needs to be reminded who fucks her so well.

Persephone drops her head back onto the sheets, her moan muffled. Harry can feel the abrupt power surge inside of her, his own body feeling electrified when she whispers a small, “Thank you.”

He grips her hips and fucks her like he’s promised. He pulls out all the way and then sinks into her again, watching the pleasure take form on her pretty face, her lips apart as she whimpers, a tight knuckled hold on the sheets to keep herself grounded.

“Beautiful,” he mutters along with the swears under his breath. “My beautiful queen.”

Persephone doesn’t seem to be able to say much. As if her mind has shut off, all she can manage to give him are small sounds and occasional cries, especially when he snaps his hips, driving himself into her with a pace she can’t comprehend.

Yes. This is what he’d been missing. It’s the answer to everything. Why he feels half a man for six months a year. Why he can’t seem to breathe properly. Because of her.

His perfect Queen.

It makes sense. Harry needs to be intertwined with her in every way. His hands on her, her vanilla scent surrounding him, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, the sight of her thoroughly fucked underneath him, and his cock deep inside of her.

Harry drops a hand to her clit, running small tight circles. She immediately reaches back and grabs his wrist, digging her long nails into his skin. She’ll be leaving marks, that much he knows. But he can’t find it in him to care. The longer he works her, the shakier her moans get, and the sharper her nails become.

He fucks her fast, and the pleasure leaves her with tears in her eyes.

“I love you,” she whimpers brokenly. “So much. I missed you.” He feels her tightening around him. “I’m going to come. Fuck, I can’t–”

Harry holds her tight, dropping his head to her neck. He turns and kisses her sweaty skin. “Do it. Come on, baby. Come all over me. Wanna feel it. Come on, sweet girl.”

She shatters around with him with a trembling cry of “yes, yes, yes, thank you, I love you, thank you” and he follows shortly after, her walls so tight around him he finds himself barely able to breathe. He crashes against her, crushing her under his weight as they try to catch their breaths.

Harry slowly pulls out and then wraps his arms around Persephone, only loosening when she shifts around to face him. Her glazed over golden eyes take him in, lips apart. Nobody looks at Harry like that. Only his wife.

Her breasts press against his chest, legs between his thighs. He’s so big over her, covering her view of anything that isn’t him.

Harry wipes her face clean of any tears and then kisses her for a long time, rubbing soothing patterns against her side. She nestles into his side.

“I love you,” she says quietly, reaching for his hand. She laces their fingers together. She clears her throat. “I really am sorry I didn’t come home straight away.”

Harry shakes his head once, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “Well now you know that I’ll be leaving my kingdom to go get you if the need be.”

Persephone blinks her pretty eyes at him. He leans down and kisses her eyelids. “I personally would love it if you retrieved me every time.”

“Your mother would curse me.”

“So what?” The corner of her mouth lifts challengingly. “Are you afraid of her?”

Harry takes her wrists and pushes them into the mattress, hovering over her with darkened eyes. “I’m afraid of nobody, dear wife.”

Persephone wraps her legs around his waist again, a burst of excitement striking through her. She’s ready to go for more. Already. The only person that could match his energy.

“Oh yeah?” she says coyly. “So you’ll come get me every autumn solstice then?”

His eyes narrow. Then he’s leaning down to catch her mouth in a kiss. He mutters, “Quiet,” and Persephone knows she’s won. She kisses him back, breaking her arms from his hold, wrapping herself around him until every inch of her skin is touching his.

He pulls back and holds her face. “I love you,” he tells her softly, eyes ablaze with endless adoration. He caresses her cheek. “Welcome home.”

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #hades harry #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst

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kewpikayo · 2 months ago

Text

"Partners...?" Human Alastor x Reader

Chapter 2: WC: 5,109

I dedicate this second chapter to the sweet @ritualofcirice, the exquisite @lumikello24, the utterly superb @fraugwinska and the fantastic @macabr3-barbi3 . Thank you all so much for making this event such a pleasure to be a part of. Hope you enjoy part two!!

Here's Chapter 1: Team Player.

your at Chapter 2: Left Hanging.

here's Chapter 3: Burning Alive. Warnings & Tags: Violence, typical bloodshed associated with Hazbin hotel and Dead by Daylight. Alastor still being a little shit, etc. death of minor characters

Multiple hours passed until mid morning became late afternoon as the sun was continuously locked away in the realm of mist and shadow.

At least the darkness provided ample cover for further protection, but it was terrible to navigate the necessary equipment needed to fix the machines. Luckily, you had a miniature flashlight from your time pilfering through stray boxes. It was currently held under your chin to create a steady light source for your tedious task.

Despite your unfortunate hooking accident and the pain it still caused you, your progress with the generators had gone rather smoothly. You had somehow managed to get three out of the five generators up to working condition; plus or minus the few instances when hiding in a locker or behind brush became necessary.

For the most part, your partner seemed to be carrying out his delegated task quite well. At least that’s what you assumed. You hadn’t heard from him in hours, but the looming threat of capture or death had somehow lessened in severity. It had been quiet…

Maybe striking a last minute deal with that strange, smiling guy was the best rash decision you had ever made .

As your bloody, oil soaked hands worked meticulously, your mind strayed to less demanding thoughts.

The asshole of a stranger, Alastor, was unbearable to say the least. His sharp wit was easily comparable to the nice, bloody blade he had acquired when he chose to ignore you. The insufferable bastard didn’t even bother to ask if you were okay or needed help, but just decided to leave you hanging. Literally.

Regardless of his initial purposeful ignorance of your person, perhaps you made the decision to reach out to him not only out of necessity, but also for the sole reason that he looked like the type to have his shit together.

You remembered the dark man stood tall with obvious pride in the presentation he held for himself. It was as if he was opulently adorned in only the best of linens. He was a bit too pompous for your tastes, but you had to admit the man did have pretty privilege. Alastor was indeed a looker.

Surprisingly, no blood was to be seen on him and his smile had never left his face even when he had seemed cross with you. It was a peculiar habit. There was just something about that grin of his and how it continually cast a supernatural glow to his warm skin. It was almost as if it was glued or stitched to his features permanently. It was creepy; and you hated how effortlessly charming it was.

His eyes spoke of a different tale, however. They were dauntless and expressive; amber jewels that were attuned to his face in unwavering self assurance hidden behind gentle, dark curls. It was obvious he was of the calculating, intellectual sort. Maybe that was why you felt comfortable enough to beg him to help you. You were assured he had a plan brewing under that steadfast grin, and you wanted in on whatever strategic formulation his mind deemed worthy to conduct.

He was a survivor, a victor, and you had always liked being a part of the winning team. Acquiring a partnership with another like minded, capable individual was only the most logical step forward. Anyone within their right mind would’ve done so.

Wiping your brow of the sweat that accumulated under the ball cap you donned, you went back into an intense focus. There was no time to daydream. How much time had you lost already? You didn’t know, but you did know too many valuable minutes had already passed you by. It was one moment too many to risk doing so a second time.

Rewiring your focus, the specific cable in your grasp was of the stubborn sort; unwilling to bend to the plan you had for it with a burning passion.

You readjusted the flashlight underneath your chin and moved closer to have a better look, wincing when the twinge in your shoulder wouldn’t go away. You cursed to yourself, frustration dripping into your vocabulary.

“Havin’ a wrench would’ve made this a helluva lot easier…Dammit…Just connect, you stupid wires…It literally isn’t that hard…It’s not rocket science!”

As if a resistant response to your furious words, sparks flew into your face with a loud, rambunctious pop. You jolted backwards with a colorful curse, a sting in your fingertips. The light and sound startled you; and with a wince your expression contorted into a deeper scowl due to the pain.

“Shit!”

Waving your hand, a harsh hiss escaped from under your breath as your fingers were brought to your lips. You bit back the pain, shutting your eyes and blinking back tears as the taste of blood and oil flooded over your tongue. The blackest smoke quickly bellowed into your vision as the bold smell of gasoline was the only scent available to you. It was to the point that any oxygen had been snuffed out and made breathing an even greater hardship.

You stifled multiple coughs. The force of each constricted your chest painfully; each spasm threatening the contents of your stomach to make an unsightly appearance. Too enraptured in retaining air, you failed to hear the soft snap of a twig behind you.

However, upon calming down from the attack on your lungs, the feeling of wind and metal brushing against your ear rivaled the active popping of the nearby generator.

You were left stunned as you stared at the butcher knife lodged in the wooden pallet next to your head. Raising a tentative hand, you brushed your fingers against the edge of your ear and hissed when you felt the sting and the promise of blood.

Another knife launched itself into the wood again, landing closer to your head this time.

If the first knife didn’t get your attention, then that one certainly did.

You whipped your head to look behind you, beholding an ominous figure in a vibrant trench coat. The fog swirling around the marsh mixed in with his clothing to the point it was hard to make out who it was, but the shadow looming over you was so profound that the fear the sight instilled held you firmly in place.

That was until the threat took another dagger from his sheath and stepped forward with ill intent.

“Oh fuc-!...”

A third dagger was thrown in your direction with the intent to hit its mark as one of the Entity’s champions boldly pursued you. Jolting backwards, the dagger thrown managed to nick your cheek in the process of piercing into the nearest pallet.

As your most recent threat, referred to as the trickster by the other survivors, rearmed himself and prepared another blade with a bold laugh at your misfortune; you took the chance to flee. Scrambling to your feet, adrenaline powered your movements as your converses dredged deep grooves into the mud. You slipped, but not before pushing a pallet over to maintain some distance between you and your attacker.

Hissing in pain, you grabbed at your shoulder as you haphazardly continued to run, your breath leaving you in frantic spurts. Your legs had a will of their own, knocking you into every spare piece of wood or type of debris imaginable. It took great effort just to keep yourself on your feet.

Almost to your destination, hope was ripped from you as your foot got lodged in an unnoticeable hole, twisting uncomfortably to the point a guttural growl turned gasp escaped you as you hit the ground. Hard.

The rest of your air deflated from your lungs and into your surroundings as your ball cap was knocked from your head in your descent; flying and disappearing amongst the weeds. You cursed. There was no time to search for it. It was lost to you now.

Amidst your thoughts, somehow your rib cage managed to land on the largest, sharpest rock known to man. You yelped in pain, assured yet another of countless bruises would appear on your skin within the hour.

Dazed and light headed from pain, but the last of your adrenaline pushing you to your limits; You grabbed at the soil and lunged yourself forward with strenuous effort. You were so close to your designated hiding spot, and now that option was taken from you as well.

You wouldn’t give up, though. Not that easily.

Determined, you crawled to the next best thing: A spare pallet with just enough room underneath to provide some sort of cover. The entrance of the hole was covered with weeds and the occasional cattail. Perfect. Cover was just what you needed.

Panting , you willed yourself to continue on, elbows digging into the ground to gain leverage in the moist soil as you hurriedly crawled in desperation. You were almost there. You were sure you would make it..

You had to.

Unfortunately, your pursuit of safety was denied when the trickster caught up with you. You managed to crawl a few more inches to safety when you felt hands grab at your sides. You looked behind you and in a panicked fury started kicking your legs and wiggling to struggle free; but to no avail. Fate has other plans for you, much to your terror and disgruntlement.

The trickster hoisted you up and had you hanging from his shoulders like a light, limp sack of fruit. It irritated you how frail you were. Still, delicate and bruisable as you were, you would not go down without a fight.

So fight you did, kicking and hitting any reachable orifice or weak point you could. You managed to hit your target every so often with sufficient force, but it was as if the man was made of impenetrable stone. Nothing you did weakened your kidnapper and it proved useless to struggle. Your attempts just made you more tired in the end and you needed to conserve your strength.

Still, your fierce spirit wouldn’t be silenced and you wouldn’t give up your fight for survival just yet. Thinking it your best, and only, option; your voice illuminated the space around you. Your words ignited your attacker’s hearing in colorful, torrential succession as you also continued in your physical attack.

“Let me go, you fucker!! Put. Me. DOWN!!!”

This only supplied the trickster something to laugh at, your voice reverberating through his useless ears as your words came back void. To no surprise, your request was denied with yet another muted, sadistic chuckle. Great. Why did you think that would work?

You continued in your struggle and berating words until you were nearing your destination; a particularly rusty hook that already had fresh blood from a recent victim acquired on the metal. You blanched at the sight. You didn’t have the possibility of acquiring Tetanus or blood poisoning on your agenda that evening, or ever, but you guess fate certainly didn’t give a damn.

This particular hook was beneath The Pale Rose; and unfortunately was a good bit away from your nearly completed generator. You hoped that somehow one of the other survivors would take a hint and aid you in finishing your work, or at least come to your aid. It was unlikely though. The majority of people, if in your predicament, would’ve certainly attuned themselves to the idea of “Every man for themselves.” You certainly did. You tried rescuing someone before and it only resulted in your first capture. You wouldn’t make that same mistake again. Not without getting something in return.

There was only one other person you hoped would come for you, and even then it was still a long shot of if he would actually help you or not. From your short time of knowing him, Alastor has proved himself to be a wildcard and a man of conviction, but only if it suited his own needs or desires.

Left with no other options, you shamelessly screamed your partner’s name with all the graceless volume in your lungs.

“ALASTOR!!! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?! I NEED YOU!!”

Your desperate plea was met with nothing but your own continued screams as your injured shoulder was violently shoved into the rusty hook you spotted earlier.

The screams that left you didn’t sound like your own voice. They were raw and saturated with agony, foreign in pitch and deeply feral in cadence. Desperate, a shrill shriek left you as the tendons and veins in the muscles of your shoulder were ripped anew. Black dots adorned themselves to your vision, your head light from blood loss. You swore you even saw stars in your disoriented state.

Before the worry of passing out or worse could visit your thoughts, the entity's claws were upon you. The sharp blades of horror forced you into a life or death struggle as your captor stepped away to watch your promised demise with glee.

Gritting your teeth, you glared at the trickster, stubbornly clinging to life. With the last of your strength, you held the claws aiming to puncture holes into your chest and abdomen at bay as exhaustion loomed over you.

With a fury so profound you swore you saw your attackers eyes widen in surprise, you snarled out the most putrid threat you could think of in your pain. Your grip tightened on the entity’s claws as you pushed against the trap.

“I hope you fuckin’ die and burn in the hottest part of Hell, you stupid ass piece of shit! You’re lucky I’m hangin’ here otherwise I’d kill you myself! I-I’d gut you like a fish and rip out your eyeballs and… And feed you to the gators!!! Mark my words, I’ll make you wish you were dead!!! ”

“Ha! What poetry~! But it would be quite hard to make one wish for death when they have already experienced it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Not expecting the figure in front of you to slump over dead, your eyes widened when you saw your partner appear out of nowhere to pull a knife from the trickster’s back. Alastor’s blood soaked hands tightly gripped around his weapon of choice as he gently disposed of his latest victim’s blood on his dark denim jeans.

“Now, this fellow’s descent into the nine circles can most assuredly be arranged. It is plausible that it is already well under way…”

When did Alastor show up? Amidst the chaos and trying to keep conscious, somehow he had appeared before you instantaneously. Perhaps he was just very close by when you called out to him?

Glancing toward you, Alastor chuckled as his smile grew in smug satisfaction; curiosity glinting back at you from his calculated gaze. You continued fighting off the iron claws in silence, hoping seeing you in a struggle would alert him that his assistance was most definitely needed. You bit back a frustrated growl when he failed to notice your hidden cry for help. Perhaps he just actively ignored you again, preferring to continue talking instead.

“Though I’m sure it would’ve been such a nice sight to witness your spin on taking out the trash… It pains me to know I won’t have the opportunity to see you do so…”

Despite his words, Alastor looked chipper with the outcome that had transpired. The man stood tall, his cream button up and blue jeans soaked in viscera and gore, blood splatter decorating his spectacles and face. His conquest to gain the lives of the killers you requested most likely was going smoothly. Good. The more he killed, the greater assurance that you wouldn’t be.

What was surprising about his presentation, however, was that you could tell the blood wasn’t his. You thought that his close contact with various types of killers around the premises would have at least scored him a few wounds to keep as souvenirs; but he managed to surprise you yet again. He didn’t even look injured in the slightest. You could tell from the way his expression was lively and full of enjoyment that he was high off of the chaos, obviously receiving great pleasure from his conquest, and even more so about his most recent kill…

Just how had he managed to do so well? You supposed that wasn’t important. What did matter was that your partner was taking the deal seriously.

Choosing to ignore the unhinged vibes Alastor was giving off, you scoffed and did your utmost to hide the tremendous pain you felt in your shoulder. Talking was getting very hard to do without pausing for much needed air. With each moment that passed, the Entity’s claws encroached closer to your person, making an exhausting task even more strenuous.

You gasped as your hand slipped from one of the iron grips holding you firmly in place, the pain in your shoulder immense as the hook tugged on your overly sensitive flesh. You were fighting for your life and Alastor didn’t even seem to care. What kind of partner was he?

You supposed you couldn’t blame him. He had mentioned he always preferred solo work. Even so, anyone with even a slim amount of sanity would see you were very much in need. Your patience was about up, your struggle using the majority of your brain power. Words were hard to form at the moment. Brevity became necessary.

“Yeah, well he… Woulda looked like he does now…Dead…Stupid and…Fucked up…You did…A good job, I guess…”

“My, Is that praise I hear? Glad to know you approve of my efforts. I’m flattered.”

Alastor’s smile couldn’t have been more smug even if he tried. You rolled your eyes at the sight; stifling a low groan from both annoyance and affliction as the claws inched closer to your abdomen and collarbones. Sweat poured down your brow in your attempts at escape. You were too exhausted at this point to really call him out on his bullshit; and you really didn’t want to risk him leaving you on that hook again. Playing it safe, you decided to ignore his obvious attempts to get under your skin in hopes that he would lend you aid this time around.

“Yeah…Yeah, you don’t gotta mention it. Now…Are ya gonna help me out and… Let me down or…Or what? We’re wastin’ time…”

Still tall and poised, Alastor tilted his head as he looked at you, placing his blade back into its sheath, a question to counter your own on his breath.

“Just how many times do you intend to be captured this evening, dear? You certainly are a bloody mess, aren’t you?”

Scoffing, you stared at the first three buttons on Alastor’s shirt, blood splatter staining his fabric to ruin. He looked how you felt, every flinch and twitch of your muscles shooting agony through your body as your own blood created an ocean down your jean jacket.

You groaned. It was too much energy wasted to look anywhere else.

“No Shit….Look who’s talkin’, but no, seriously… Are your arms not workin’ or somethin’?…Let me down…”

Wincing, you used the majority of your remaining strength to readjust your body weight on the hook. Another hiss of agony leaked through your gritted teeth. Your attempts were enough to bring brief tears to the corners of your eyes. You blinked them away. You wouldn’t let him see you cry.

“We’re…Supposed to be partner’s, right? Don’t just….leave me hangin’….”

“Ha! Good one…”

Another encore of enthused chuckles escaped him as he crossed his arms. It still didn’t look like he was in any hurry to come to your aid. Shocker.

“...Unfortunately, you are missing a simple, vital phrase…It’s rather rude to forget it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Once again you were left dumbfounded by the man’s words. What did he mean? You were left in tremendous confusion until it hit you. The bastard was wanting you to beg him for his help. Again.

Swallowing as much pride as you could spare, as well as the urge to let out another scream, you let your head hang as low as it would go without causing anymore needless damage to your shoulder. Your hands still firmly grasped around the claws of the greedy Entity.

“...Please…”

Without seeing him, you could tell he was smirking just by the way his voice sounded, conceited and self important. Vain.

“Please what?”

A low growl entered your voice in a mixture of exasperation and discomfort as you looked up at your so-called partner with a deep scowl. You bit into your cheek before uttering yet another shameful, pitiful plea. You absolutely hated how weak it made you feel.

“Please…If you’d be so…gracious as to lend me your….Assistance…I'd be so appreciative…”

You wanted to make sure that Alastor knew you were pissed. The words you managed to mutter were drenched in so much sarcasm that it brought an obvious, irritated twitch to your partner’s eye. Good. He deserved it after refusing to help you for a second time. If he thought it was a burden to help you, you would show him just how much of an inconvenience you could be, should he continue to refuse to come to your aid.

Alastor remained silent. Another claw formed on the hook, causing you to have to split your efforts of keeping the iron talons at bay; one hand for each claw that formed.

Frustration flooded into you to the point you let out a shout and another string of vibrant curses.

“Arrghhhh! Just. Get. Me. down! I’m bleedin’ out, if ya haven’t noticed!”

“Oh, I’ve noticed. I do think the color red suits you rather well…”

Yet another vexing pause was seen on his part as he shifted his weight from one hip to another, his arms still crossed and his gaze curious as he stood infront of you, tantalizingly close but resistant and mute to your continued pleas.

“Besides, what was your earlier phrase? Ah, yes…I do believe it was ‘“Fuck you. I’ll just do it myself.”’? Where has all that spirit gone? You seemed very capable before. Surely nothing has changed since?”

Dumbfounded, you didn’t know how to reply. You were in such shock that one of your hands slipped, allowing one of the Entity’s claws to pierce deeply into your opposite collarbone. You let out an ear piercing scream as you managed to dig the iron out of your skin; adrenaline sending shivers swimming through your bloodstream.

Struggling to form words, you paused to take breaths in between your verbiage.

“It’s...Complicated…Hard to…Explain!”

“Then try. Enlighten me.”

“Look…I…I already used my perk, Deliverance ... .I can’t use it again; so I would greatly appreciate it if you got your head out of your ass and…and helped me! The Entity’s rippin’ me apart!”

A look equally offended and appalled darted across Alastor’s features, distorting his toothy smile to the slightest degree.

“Your…Perk? Entity? Whatever do you mean? Speak plainly, dear. What you’ve just said is very much akin to gibberish…”

If you weren’t actively fighting for your life you would’ve stared at him in disbelief, mouth agape like some braindead fool. Did this idiot not know what a survivor’s perk was? Was he actually galavanting around this entire map without using any of his? And he still managed to not get a single scratch on him? What type of creature was he?

It was as if he wasn’t even human…

Irritated that your partner was seemingly perfect, except for the one flaw that he would not willingly help set you free; you grumbled out the expected information. Somehow amidst gasping for breath, you managed to explain what a perk was and a little about the entity until Alastor’s expression changed to one of mild understanding.

“...Now, help me already….Please!”

Gasping for air and on the verge of passing out, or passing away, you looked toward your so-called partner with the utmost desperation hidden in your eyes. Yet another pause was shared between the two of you and he still refused to move or help you. Your patience for this man was about over.

“Look, shithead, I said please three times, didn’t I?!”

“My, how rude…You do realize whose life is still on the line at the moment, yes?”

In a tone that could only be described as patronizing, his grin grew in conceited splendor. Did he really enjoy getting a rise out of you that much? Your scowl deepened at his sick joy.

That sadistic fuck…

An even wider smirk adorned Alastor’s features as you blanched, your complexion pale due to both your realization as well as blood loss. His smile was more genuine when you whispered an apology. It was obvious he was pleased to know he had bruised your pride even more than it already was.

“Hmm…I suppose I will let you off the hook for your blunder, if only this once…The tendency to lose manners when one’s life is threatened is something common and albeit expected. Here, brace yourself…This will surely hurt.”

Reaching up to you to finally offer you aid after what seemed to be a millenia, a dark and teasing laugh seeped into Alastor’s breath.

“Feel free to scream if necessary…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few minutes and a superfluity of stifled screams and curses from his little lady, you were freed. It didn’t take much for Alastor to procure you from your entrapment, but he did silently muse on just how light you were in his arms. If he so wished, throwing you with one hand would’ve been as simplistic as breathing. Of course, he had no time for such tempting indulgence. As you had rudely prompted him before, time was slipping away from you both.

So, with minimal effort and all the grace the radio host had at his disposal, Alastor allowed your liberty to take place. He encapsulated your waist in his hands, deftly pulling you from your perch. You were worse for wear and covered in filth, of course, but freed all the same.

Fortunately, the subsequent screams from you were a sufficient reward for his efforts.

Alastor listened to you grumble under your labored breath as you dusted the first of many particles of dirt from your clothing. Your attempts did nothing to satiate the need for disposing of the blood and oil that collected themselves upon your bodice and skin. At least an attempt was made on your part to better your appearance.

Looking over his shoulder to survey the area for any additional threat, Alastor caught sight of the tell tale signs of your dingy cap underneath the shadows of the cattails nearby. Ah. That’s where he had placed it when he acquired it out of the weeds and spare piles of wood when your belligerent cry for assistance rang through his ears. Luckily he was close by, but even so. A little more patience would’ve been appreciated on your part.

Within minutes he left you behind to attain said cap, only to daintily dust it off and provide it to you. You propped your forearm on one knee for a moment before pulling yourself up from the mud to look at the outstretched hand he offered. It was a most generous gift he bestowed to you.

“I do believe this is yours?”

A deeper scowl was returned to him for his efforts; but he only laughed. You certainly were of the feisty sort.

You snatched the gift from his hands and donned it swiftly, tugging it over your eyes and adjusting its place on your head as your back arched forward in an atrocious attempt at remaining on your feet. Your posture was lacking, but Alastor supposed you did have a right to not be at your best. It was a marvel how you steadfastly willed yourself to remain standing, let alone conscious. Your stance was shaky, but surprisingly firm as your ever present scowl looked up to meet his curious gaze.

“Alright…We don’t have much time…There’s only two gen’s left. So you go…Uh…Stab people or what have you…and I’ll…I’ll fix those machines. We’ll meet back up at the exit….Sound good…?”

Alastor quirked a brow at your words, but remained silent. Just what type of tenacity compelled you to continuously move forward when you were considerably near death's door? Surely you were ready to give in by now.

However, even if your complaints were mostly of his “incompetence” your ferocity was never aimed at your own predicament; but just one glance at your pale complexion instantly notified him that you were tired. More than tired. You were a corpse walking.

It was very interesting how you hadn’t fallen over dead, and Alastor would go so much as to say you colored him impressed. Perhaps only the fiercest of fighting spirits remained within you? You were of the obstinate sort, after all.

Still, there was something else about you that piqued his interest. Something he couldn’t quite name; and he wanted to figure out what it was.

Perhaps your natural inclination for survival was just emboldened by the circumstances the two of you found yourselves in. It was an admirable attribute. You weren’t weak and your folly wouldn’t be by your own hand. No, you were stubborn, determined, and just did not know when to quit.

Perhaps that was a good thing…

Alastor’s smile grew. Yet another intriguing thing was learned from you. A few more close observations would surely supply him with even more delightful answers? If you still proved entertaining and useful as the night dragged on, he wouldn’t mind offering you the continued chance to thrive…

So far, that prospect was promising. Loathe as he was to admit it, however, your eclectic nature, your stubbornness and that persistent disgruntlement of yours had piqued his full curiosity with ease; providing him with a surprising amount of amusement.

Perhaps you had already earned your chance to be spared…

Commanding his thoughts to cease for a moment, Alastor watched as you stepped away from him with a deep heaviness in your footwork. You certainly were a tenacious little thing, compelled by your convictions to a fault. Of course, he would expect nothing less from a partner worthy of his time. He conceded. Your work ethic was impeccable. You were doing well.

Alas, however a nuisance it was to obey someone else’s orders, Alastor assured you he would do as asked as you continued down your chosen path. He only received a small nod and a barely raised hand as you slowly retreated.

The radio host made his way down the opposite path, taking his knife from its home on his belt as he continued his previous stalking through the brush; eager to bleed yet another soul dry that evening…

#hookedonhazbin2024 #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel halloween #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #dead by daylight crossover #hazbin hotel fanfiction #See you in Chapter 3~!

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shorimochi · 3 months ago

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BingJiu Monsterfucker AU

The smell of scallion pancakes woke Shen Qingqiu in the most pleasant way. A good breakfast was most certainly welcomed, after that strange dream he had last night.

“Good morning, Shizun,” Luo Binghe greeted him from the kitchen. “I'm making our breakfast and also lunch for our journey later. Would you be willing to wait?”

“Take your time,” Shen Qingqiu said and yawned.

Luo Binghe was once just a young boy he had picked up while traveling as a rogue cultivator. The boy had stuck to Shen Qingqiu like a glutinous rice cake since then and refused to leave, no matter what Shen Qingqiu did. Shen Qingqiu taught him to cultivate his spiritual power, but his silly disciple chose to cultivate feelings for Shen Qingqiu instead.

They still continued traveling, although now Luo Binghe had mentioned wanting a forever home for both of them and knowing the perfect spot for it.

“You look like you didn't have enough sleep, are you sure we can go today?” Luo Binghe asked.

Shen Qingqiu nodded. He had been in worse conditions, a couple hours of missed sleep wasn't going to affect him. “I've been having weird dreams lately.”

“What kind of dreams?”

“Just… I don't remember,” Shen Qingqiu lied.

It wasn't clear. But he remembered. He just didn't want to tell Luo Binghe because it was embarrassing.

In his dreams, he was whipping and beating his partner. Luo Binghe in his dream however looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the beatings, before morphing into a serpent-like creature and… well. Do things that they usually do at night, except his already well-endowed pillar was even bigger, with scales and…

Shen Qingqiu felt his face burning as he recalled the dream. Nope, he better forget it. Perhaps he had been encountering way too many wildlife these days. Settling down in a quaint little village might be what he needed after all.

They set off after breakfast and headed to the southern mountains. Shen Qingqiu rarely ever stayed in the southern region. The area was said to be very beautiful and rich with rare plants with a good soil, but it was also close to the demon realm border. Hence, most people normally avoided coming close to the area.

Sure, cultivators like him and Luo Binghe had no issue with demons, but he wondered why Luo Binghe insisted on bringing him there. Wouldn't it still be better to stay in a peaceful village away from demons, regardless?

The sun had set and the night sky was looming upon them. Shen Qingqiu frowned. “Binghe, shouldn't we find a place to stay?”

Luo Binghe seemed eerily calm. “It's okay, shizun. We’re almost there.”

“Almost… Binghe, any farther and we might step into the demon realm…!” Shen Qingqiu gasped.

There was no way Luo Binghe didn't feel that. They had just broken a barrier. Shen Qingqiu held his hand tight but his former disciple was completely unperturbed. In fact… he looked rather excited, even as numerous footsteps and a large demonic presence began approaching them.

“You're finally back, Junshang.”

A swarm of small demons greeted them. It was then that Shen Qingqiu realized, the strongest demonic energy did not come from the little puny demons. It came from the hand he was holding.

When he looked at Luo Binghe, a pair of flowing red eyes stared back at him. Shen Qingqiu felt his lips beginning to dry as he observed sharp nails and scales gradually appearing on Luo Binghe’s hands.

Luo Binghe lifted his hand and kissed it. “Shizun has always been pleased by my looks. I wonder if shizun will hate my true form now….? Ah, not that it will make any difference, I have no intention of letting you go.”

Shen Qingqiu held his breath. “You're a demon. Since when…?”

Luo Binghe grinned. He pulled Shen Qingqiu closer and wrapped his arm around the slim waist.

“Ah, shizun….my beloved shizun. I cannot believe I even doubted your love for me.”

Shen Qingqiu scowled. “For someone who lied to me, you have the guts to speak rubbish now.”

Luo Binghe laughed.

“But shizun… I can feel it. I can see it. Your heartbeat. Your expression. You're turned on now… aren't you?”

#shen jiu #original shen qingqiu #luo binghe #bingjiu #svss

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katerinaaqu · 8 months ago

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Survivor's Guilt and Survior's Duty (P3 + After Note)

Continuation from Part 2:

Swift fingers were moving constantly through golden thread, mixing the different shades perfectly. The hands were moving to and fro as the humming of the sweet song kept on interrupting the rhythmical sound of wood against wood as the tapestry was slowly gaining shape in the loom. It was the skillful fingers of an ancient being beautiful like spring and deadly like winter that was weaving this. Somewhere among the sea of gold and crimson there was a pair of threads that didn’t match in color or texture.

One jet black

And one silver white…

Odysseus slowly opened his bruised eyes and he wished he hadn’t. He barely opened them a tiny bit and he shut them closed once more as his sight was mercilessly attacked by the brightness of the white grotto. His stomach was turning and he felt like throwing up everything he ever had eaten in his life and his head was turning around as if someone was spinning him at a whirlpool. He moaned holding his head with both hands, slowly rolling to the side. The headache and dizziness were pounding him relentlessly.

“Gods…my head…” he thought hoping the nausea would leave him alone

The events of the night before were also present in his mind and the embarrassment didn’t help his condition at all. He had drunk himself to the point of oblivion that much he knew. Normally he should know his limitations but he was unable to refuse the goddess who was filling his cup. Once he dared to look around (and of course seeing everything moving around him) he spotted a goblet next to the bed containing a bubbling liquid. Odysseus eyed him more suspiciously than what he would originally have wished to.

“Well…that was awfully organized…” he thought again

Either way downing the drink seemed to help a lot with his unsettled stomach although not spectacularly with his dizziness. The first thing he noticed was that Calypso was not working in her usual spot. That’s odd, he thought, but then he fathomed she wouldn’t sit around and sleep or work by the side of a severely drunk human especially given the whatever the heck would turn out to look like the day after! He moaned once more as he forced himself, excruciatingly slowly to sit up on the bed and place his feet on the floor.

“Gods…never again…” he mumbled holding another gag back.

But it was true that Calypso’s potion was working wonders although he needed at least a couple of more minutes to stand up and start practically staggering until he reached a wall to support himself and walk out, possibly hoping some fresh air would do him good. As he walked down the grotto to his best abilities he surely was wondering how the hell he managed to get so drunk even with the goddess practically encouraging him. He should know better than that. Stopping at a sudden wave of dizziness he sighed and wiped some sweat off his face.

“Alright, Odysseus…no more wine for you…” he mumbled to himself, “…you clearly are not mature enough…”

Beneath his layers of self-sarcasm, though, he did feel like he had embarrassed himself before the goddess. Not only had he drunk himself to stupor; true it was Calypso the one to keep serving him but perhaps she didn’t know the human limitations to drinking. Perhaps she overestimated his tolerance or perhaps… (Odysseus always had one random ominous thought to the back of his head but he always chose to dismiss it, especially now that he needed all help he could get from some god given that he already had half the pantheon chasing after him!), but he also cried like a baby, opening up things he never wished to share in the first place, yet alone in front of an immortal goddess and her immortal nymph entourage. His situation was already bad enough; he was a beggar without anything to offer to the goddess; he didn’t need to be seen as an uncontrollable drunk as well. And this goddess somehow gave a different energy than Circe (and by gods wasn’t that experience scary enough).

He found Calypso lazily laying upon her sofa as her maids were attending the room. His heart was clenched by an unpleasant feeling once more but he dismissed it as his natural aversion towards the fear against the divine. Not to mention he was still feeling ashamed as he couldn’t be more. Calypso sensed his presence and smiled almost maternally at him.

“Good morning, Odysseus” her melodic voice reached his ears. “I am glad to see you up”

“That is a way to put it, goddess…” Odysseus mumbled as he was practically assisted by the maids to sit on the couch opposite her

His dizziness was still awful but he felt better already.

“My throat is dry…” he admitted, “Could I perhaps…have some water?”

Calypso smirked.

“Bring him some water” she ordered

As the cup was given to Odysseus he basically drained it, feeling the cool liquid settling down.

“Blessed you be, goddess…” he whispered again, “And thank you for your treatment. It worked wonders”

“I am glad” Calypso said with her usual feline smile. “I would hate to see you struggle with nausea”

Odysseus drew a deep breath to calm himself a bit. Calypso once more observed him and her heart was flattering. She discreetly tasted her lips imagining that chest moving up and down with his breathing. She looked upon that man that was now monopolizing her dreams and fantasies stand there in the light; his hair appearing almost auburn as sunlight was showering them. He was looking at her and if she hadn’t noticed his eyes shining with intelligence and wisdom she would have sworn he was a simpleton till he would start to speak. Odysseus was a man full of contradictions; darkness and light, quick wits and aloof thinking, braveness and fear…strength and weakness…

“Goddess…I…” he started, “In regards to the events of last night…forgive me I shouldn’t have broken down like this…”

Calypso congratulated herself deep inside for holding herself back. She was right and indeed Odysseus could remember everything clearly from the night before. It would have ruined everything if she had advanced onto Odysseus while he was vulnerable.

“Why not?” Calypso asked airily. “I am glad you decided to open up with me. I am just sad you had to get drunk you let yourself go and trust me”

Odysseus winced at the reminder. Yeah, that was the last thing he needed to be reminded of… As if reading his thoughts, Calypso spoke again;

“Don’t worry too much, darling. I myself actually drank more than what I intended, last night,” the half-lie came easy to her lips, “You are a very pleasant company, Odysseus. One can forget himself when they are with you!”

“Me?” Odysseus asked in disbelief, “Hardly, goddess…hardly…”

He sighed, rubbing his nape nervously.

“I just...didn’t want to burden you with my troubles…”

“Odysseus…” Calypso said sincerely, “You are never a burden… I really want to help you… Not as a goddess, as a friend, I am glad you took some of that weight off your chest”

And then she took a bold step, more to herself than anything, and placed her hand on his. She felt him tense at the sudden contact while she felt his mortal flesh beneath her hand and she almost lost control of her emotions but her face was kept stone calm.

“Don’t you ever, ever apologize for your emotions, Odysseus,” she said sincerely, “It is what makes you mortals and us immortals similar…”

She felt him almost drawing his hand back or at least she felt his muscles signaling for him to do so, as he looked at her with those eyes that hid so much wisdom that indeed made her wonder what kind of mortal person has so much in their mind. She drew back and leaned on her couch again, casually.

“Oh, yes” she said, “Even us gods have feelings, Odysseus, our own torments. You may say that ours are sometimes more unbearable since we have to live with them for all eternity. We have no way of escaping them. One can see that from this very island too. This little paradise that is so left alone from the world…sometimes loneliness is so much to bear Odysseus…so much…”

Odysseus raised his brows. Suddenly the immortal nymph Calypso seemed almost…vulnerable. He saw her honey eyes reflect genuine pain and sorrow, sadness and isolation. He felt somehow stupefied for a second to react. How can someone consol a god?

“I…I understand, beautiful Calypso…” he whispered, “It is piercing the bones of any person to be isolated…”

“Yes, you do understand, don’t you?” Calypso eyed him, “You were a gift to me, Odysseus. It was the first time in hundreds of years that I felt someone actually connecting to this sorrow; the first time I felt someone truly understands loneliness as I do…”

Odysseus suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know where this conversation was heading to but it seemed like it was about to take a turn that he wouldn’t really wish it to. And apparently he was right for Calypso held his calloused hand in both of hers; caressing his fingers with her delicate, unnaturally smooth ones.

“Why don’t you stay here with me, Odysseus?” Calypso whispered

Her tone resembled a little girl talking to her first crush. It felt so unnatural to Odysseus that the goddess that nursed him back to health, the goddess that always kept a maternal visage now she was talking to him like he was an eternal god and she a young maiden trying to keep him with her.

“Stay…” Calypso repeated, “You understand how I feel and I understand you. You could live a happy life here; free from all the sorrows and this mortal coil. You wouldn’t need to worry about a thing here.”

As if that was not enough, Calypso raised a hand to touch his chin, making their eyes meet.

“I like you, Odysseus” she confessed naturally, “You interested me from the moment I saw you; your will to survive was unparalleled, however now I see how genuinely worthy you are.”

Odysseus felt his cheeks flush with color. It was rather flattering, he couldn’t lie, that this beautiful immortal being that could have any immortal god she wanted on her feet was now showing some interest in him in whatever way; him the man who was no longer young, who never considered himself the handsomest on earth in the first place, the man who was considered by many cunning, sly and without honor; now pique the interest of an immortal goddess. However…

“Your interest in me is beyond flattering, goddess…” he replied as he softly covered her hand still holding his with his own, discreetly drawing it away, “However I must refuse. I must go back…”

Calypso’s face again changed for one briefest second. It was as if someone had punched her in the gut. She slowly withdrew and sat back to her sofa.

“Go back…?” she echoed, “Why? What’s left for you out there, Odysseus? Poseidon wants your life and everyone you know might as well be thinking only of your harm. Mortal minds are so petty sometimes! Why would you want to go back to that world?”

“I have a kingdom I am responsible of” the king of Ithaca replied, “I have a family, friends that I have to return to. I made a promise I would. I am a mortal too, goddess, I belong to that world”

“Friends!” Calypso said as if the word had no meaning, “Your friends were responsible for this adventure that almost cost your life!”

Reading the expression of shock to his face, Calypso elaborated.

“You do know, it was Eurylochus the one to persuade your men to eat the cows of Helios Hyperion, right? Not that the rest of your men had vastly different opinion, but it was him the one who betrayed you in the first place, the same way he betrayed you when he opened the sack of Aiolus!”

The Man of Many Torments felt his heart clench as all color left his face.

“What?” he croaked out

“Look in your cup” Calypso encouraged him, “and see the truth”

Odysseus looked down at the ceramic cup in his hand and gasped. Indeed the water surface of his cup had turned into a reflective mirror and now he could see as if he were there himself, the dreadful scene that preceded the slaughter of the sacred animals that led to his last ship to be gone forever and his men drown…

The men were tired; dark circles had formed under their eyes from sleeplessness and hunger and it had given them a rough look. They seemed like shadows of the men they used to be. Hunger, fatigue and sorrows had brought them on their knees. The sacred cows of Helios Hyperion were always grazing at the field next to the beach, filling their fat bellies with grass rich in salt and essential minerals. His hungry comrades were often looking at them, longer than it would be proper; way too long for comfort. Everyone was of course considering this source of nutrition ever since their rich provisions were gone. They were holding on the promise they had given to Odysseus and the fear for yet another god’s wrath but this time they were all at their limits. Eurylochus suddenly shot up from his sitting position on a rock.

“I’ve had enough of this!” he exclaimed suddenly

As all heads turned to face him at the same time.

“Hear me out, my friends, because I believe you shall agree with me that this cannot go on! We will starve to death if we wait here doing nothing! I don’t know about you, my friends but I refuse to die here of starvation!”

“Eurylochus!” Polites cried out, “What are you saying! You can’t be implying-…”

“All forms of death are terrible, Polites!” Eurylochus replied again, “We mortals are trained all our lives to fear death but death of hunger? Is there ever a worse form to die than that? We once conquered Troy and all its assets and we were praised by gods and humans and now we are in this godforsaken island and we die day by day on the beach like animals that lost their feeding grounds!”

“Eurylochus is right” Lycaon now spoke, “This can’t go on! And Odysseus is nowhere to be found!”

“He went to hunt” Polites replied again, “And pray for us!”

“Pray! Pray!” Eurylochus suddenly started screaming on top of his lungs, “He does nothing but pray! Have you seen any god favor us?! Have you seen anything good coming out of his prayers?! He calls himself pious and religious, he offers sacrifices! The problem started when the sacrifices became us!”

“Now now!” Alkimos now spoke, “That’s too much! Calm down!”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down Alkimos!” Eurylochus growled, “Odysseus will not do anything, once again! All he can do is pray and his prayers go on deaf ears! And that is all because of him! He only is killing us bit by bit!”

“Now listen you!” Polites had enough of this.

He was hungry too and starving but that was way too much.

“Don’t you dare to say that! Odysseus only tried to protect us all in various occasions! True he made many mistakes but-…”

He was stopped when Eurylochus grabbed upon his collar.

“YOU WEREN’T THERE, POLITES!” Eurylochus bellowed and his eyes already shining with primitive hunger were now beyond any form of madness one could express, “You weren’t there! That monster smashing the heads of our comrades! All we could do was watch as he indulged himself in their flesh! We were in that cave because of Odysseus in the first place! We could survive with the wild goats of the island! He just wanted something better! He always does! And WE pay the price! Never him! Never!”

“Now, now everyone calm down!” Amphidamas came between them to separate them, “If we kill each other now, the conversation will have no meaning in the first place!”

Eurylochus was forced to step back but he continued.

“I refuse to die here of hunger! My friends, let us satiate our hunger with these cows. We shall offer a sacrifice to the god Helios here and if we make it to Ithaca then we can build him a great temple, with our own hands. We can make a solemn oath here for that.”

“And if we don’t?” Polites glared at him

“If we don’t…well in that case I prefer to die from a wave and drown rather than die here like a beast from hunger!”

Odysseus watched the scene as if he were there. He watched his comrades grabbing the cows, slaughtering them and offering their sacrifice. But they had no wine left so they used water to rinse the parts of the animals. They had no barley to use and they plucked the leaves of an oak… He watched them set their feast which was not even proper sacrifice to begin with and he knew very well what followed. He was there after that. He could see no more as his eyes filled with tears once more. Suddenly his hangover was forgotten. The pain in his heart was greater. The ceramic fell from his hands and shattered to the floor. Odysseus grabbed his head with both hands, leaning forward in lament.

“Oh, Eurylochus!” he whispered between his sobbing, “I know, my friend, I know I made mistakes…I know I wasn’t perfect but I didn’t deserve this! I didn’t-…deserve…”

His nails nearly broke the flesh of his face as he cried. Yes, there was no point keeping his mask of carefree man anymore. Calypso had already exposed the pain in his soul. He might as well indulge into it again! His men had suffered and died and he was left alone to fight the elements and the storms holding upon the remains of his ship with little to no hope left; alone in fear and in pain, in hunger and in thirst to the brief of death and madness… He felt the injustice in his flesh; he had sacrificed so much! He was always there when they needed him; he went to face gods, creatures, even descended to the Underworld for them and faced the horrors that expect the dead in the afterlife while he was still living himself. He had sold himself to a goddess hoping to get freedom for his men; he had stayed up 9 days to protect the sack of Aiolus to make sure it wouldn’t be opened and that they could get back home… He had been ready to face Skylla and Charybdis for them… Their accusations seemed so unjust in his ears and yet…the other part of himself admitted they were right; nothing would have happened if he hadn’t let his anger speak and brag on Polyphemus…no, nothing would have happened if they never entered his cave in the first place… Perhaps nothing would have happened if he never had that scheme to take Troy! Or what if he was never there! Oh, cursed Troy! Cursed war! But then again, Odysseus felt like he had himself to blame again for what happened…

“Cursed oath!” he thought in despair, “Why did I have to do that! Why did I have to suggest to the old man Tyndareus that we would all defend Helen? If it weren’t for that I would be in Ithaca! Raising my son and embracing my wife! My men would be alive in their houses and villages! Cursed oath! Damn the moment I invented it! Damned the moment I was born!”

He broke down. No, this was too much to bear! He wanted to save them and ended up losing them all! And he had suffered himself. He nearly lost his life… No, it shouldn’t be all his fault now should it? He had specifically told them not to open the sack…he had told them not to eat the animals belonging to a god… He had warned them! He couldn’t be the one to blame for those, right? He knew his comrades made their own mistakes but he could also understand them. They have been through much more than what any mortal was supposed to endure… But that type of mutiny? Why? Why so much hate…? He remembered though how much Eurylochus was affected during their trip. In particular the adventure of Skylla had left them all with scars…

The area was quiet; WAY too quiet for anyone’s liking! The men had watched nervously as Odysseus had stood to the fore-deck fully geared up in his armor and holding two spears. Why on earth would he want to be armed? Odysseus seemed ready to collapse in their eyes. He was constantly gazing to the rocks around as if he expected some unknown attack from the sky! As they entered a narrow path, Odysseus seemed to be very weary. As they passed from below a cave at a high mountain, from the other side a terrifying rumble drew their attention and a whirlpool was formed, sucking in the sea water. The men cried out in fear and despair and yet they could not take their eyes off that dreadful sight! And when he had hoped that would be the end of it, the cry was heard over the rumble.

“A baby?” one of the men asked

Odysseus winced. No, no…he thought. His hands clenched upon his arms. Suddenly he remembered Circe’s advice that he had forgotten; there was no point at him being armed; Skylla was immortal. He could do nothing to her even if he wanted. He could only pray that she wouldn’t wake up for her daily meal while they crossed but now that baby cry just shattered all his hopes and prayers. It was too late. He could only steer the ship close to Skylla’s side to avoid Charybdis and now…Skylla had decided it was her time to eat…

“Odysseus!” Polites called out as his face was pale and wet from sweat; one eye to the whirlpool and the other to Odysseus, “Odysseus, there is a baby up at the grotto!”

A baby up… For a moment Odysseus felt like it was Astyanax who was crying from the underworld…Astyanax had come to claim something of him as punishment for he took Troy leading to his death…

“Odysseus!” Polites urged again

Odysseus looked up at the cave and his eyes were liquid. He looked at Polites and his face could be the same as a wounded animal, facing the hound that was about to take his life; pleading for one last time… He was almost shaking.

“Forgive me, Polites…” he whispered, “GET DOWN!”

And he dropped to the deck, taking Polites with him and leading a few men do the same in panic (of those who weren’t still hypnotized by the terrible whirlpool at the other side). Everything happened too fast; Six necks longer than their entire ship probably twice as much, bearing terrible heads; a mixture between a woman’s head and a dragon with mouths open with sharp teeth. The heads rushed to the deck like deadly snakes and they grasped one man each who screeched in pain, drawing the attention of everyone on deck. They watched in horror.

“CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN!” the men who could still speak screamed, “ODYSSEUS!”

Odysseus was unable to take his eyes off this sight which was so similar to the cave of Polyphemus but this time seemed harder to grasp. At the beginning of the grotto Skylla began her feast by cutting off flesh and guts off the bodies of his men who were still alive and screaming from their adrenaline rush; nothing like when Polyphemus had smashed them to the ground, making sure they were dead first. Skylla had no such problem as her six heads were tearing apart what was left of his 6 best men on the ship. The men were wailing and screaming, calling his name. His men pale in horror; one or two of them doubled over and threw up on the deck. Odysseus nearly did both himself. The seconds passed like eons as the screaming finally silenced and the ship drew away from that terrible passage. They could still hear the moaning of Charybdis as she was throwing up the seawater again…

There was silence afterwards… His men hardly dared to breathe…not even the oars could be heard anymore as the ship was probably moving by the stream at that point as no one had the courage to move. Odysseus was frozen there like a statue… He didn’t even have the strength to drop on his knees. Forgive me, he thought, forgive me I had no choice… Polites was probably the first to come out of the trance as he croaked out in a barely audible voice;

“What…what the hell was that…?”he was as pale as a cloud, “Odysseus…? What the hell was that…?”

Odysseus turned his head to him, trying to find the words to answer but Eurylochus pounced at him like a furious tiger ready to eat his throat.

“YOU BASTARD!” he bellowed beyond himself, grabbing him by the front part of his armor, “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT THING?! YOU STOOD THERE DOING NOTHING! WE ALL DID! SPEAK UP!”

His head turned to the side. He couldn’t face him.

“I HEARD YOU SPEAK UP! IT WAS AS IF YOU KNEW WHAT WAS COMING! SPEAK UP ‘KING OF ITHACA’ AND ‘EQUAL TO GODS’! WHAT WAS THAT!?”

“That was Skylla…” Odysseus whispered, “…Daughter of Echidna and Typhoon… A creature that pries on dolphins and seals when she can…and waits for ships to pass her grotto…”

Eurylochus was hyperventilating; his face was red in fury.

“You knew!? YOU KNEW ALL ALONG AND SAID NOTHING!? YOU KEPT YOUR MOUTH SHUT WHEN-…”

“If I had picked Charybdis we would have died all!” Odysseus yelled back, “I had no choice I had to do this! There was no other way!”

“You kept your mouth shut! YOU SAID NOTHING AND LET OUR COMRADES BE SACRIFICED! YOU DIDN’T SAY A THING! WE HAD TO KNOW!”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!” now Odysseus bellowed, higher than anything Eurylochus did before

His men all silenced before his woeful and furious cry.

“What do you want me to say! That I hoped this monster would never come out? That I wanted us all to suffer as little as possible…that I could find no proper words to explain what was in store for them…that I hope I was them…?”

He was heroically holding his tears back. He was feeling his body turning into stone again under the layers of his armor that had been useless in this adventure.

If I show weakness I am lost…

“…That I am sorry…?”

If I show weakness I am lost…

Eurylochus had his eyes ticking in rage and fear. Odysseus could see the panic settling in him more and more like the waves at the sea. He was shivering all over.

“Sorry…?” he echoed, “You are sorry…?”

The way he grabbed him later, made others even wake up from their shocked state and arrive to their assistance to see which of the two would be hurt next!

“YOU ARE SORRY!?” Eurylochus bellowed, “IT COULD HAVE BEEN ANY OF US, ODYSSEUS! IT COULD HAVE BEEN-…”

He froze again as if the terrible realization hit him. He seemed ready to throw up himself. He let go of Odysseus and stepped back. Suddenly he was vulnerable and frightened.

“Oh my gods…” he mumbled, “We’re not going to survive this, are we? We are all gonna die in this journey! We’re all doomed!”

“No! No!” Odysseus shook his head, “No, this can’t end like this! We shall make it! We must make it! If we follow the instructions Circe gave us, we can make it. Trust me…”

Apparently that word was the worst he could use because Eurylchus gained his fighting spirit back and he was held by another comrade so he wouldn’t rush on him again.

“Trust you?! TRUST YOU, you say?! Six of our comrades are dead! And you said nothing! How can we trust you Odysseus!? HUH?!”

Odysseus lowered his eyes. He fixed the helmet on his head, as if he wanted to hide his gaze from them; from all the judgmental eyes and ears around him.

If I show weakness I am lost…

“I did what I thought it was right…” he said in a cold tone, “If I had chosen Charybdis we would all be dead now…”

He turned to leave but Eurylochus was not done releasing the anger inside him.

“Who else is to be sacrificed next then, Odysseus? Huh? Tell me, King of Ithaca, who is to be sacrificed next?”

If I show weakness I am lost…

“I did it to save us all!” Odysseus whispered dangerously, stepping closer to him, “I did it to save this vessel! Our last ship! Our last hope! If we lose it, we’re lost! I did what I had to do! We can survive this! But we must stick together!”

If I show weakness I am lost…

“If you cannot trust me, then obey me!”

If I show weakness I am lost…

“If I everything I ever done is not enough for you to have faith in me then you must remember that I am still your king!”

If I show weakness I am lost…

“For as long as we have this vessel, I am still your captain! And we still have a chance!”

If I show weakness…

Odysseus moaned lowering his head almost between his knees as he remembered what had befallen between them. No wonder that it was Eurylochus the one to initiate that mutiny! However it still hurt every thread of his heart. It still led to the outmost destruction! He had roamed 10 days aimlessly in absolute terror in the elements with no hope; nearly losing his mind in the process…and his very life!

“Our last vessel…our last hope…” he whispered, “…It’s gone…gone! We… Gone… All of our hope was gone…! Why, Eurylochus! Why! Why!”

Calypso walked around his bench. She was as alluring as she seemed dangerous…like the sea that enclosed him. Her touch on his shoulder as she circled him, made him feel fear for the very first time he was with her. It was as if some cloud was lifted from his mind; a cloud he had no idea it existed.

“My poor, tormented darling…” Calypso whispered again, “These men rebelled against you…they disobeyed your orders and ignored your suggestions… Surely you are not the one to blame for their carelessness and arrogance….”

Her hands cupped his cheeks and made him look at her. She had kneeled before him and she wiped tears with her thumbs; tears he had no idea he had shed…

“You nearly lost your life out there, darling… Why must you torment yourself over them? Why must your heart always mourn? Forget about this…mortal coil. Stay here with me…stay and rest, finally, Odysseus… You shall not want of anything here… I could offer you the gift of immortality… Never shall you fear sickness or death again! Never shall you find yourself in the same pitiful state that you were when you first showed up at my doors! You shall be my equal! All you need to do is ask…”

Immortal! The word rang to Odysseus’s brain like a bell; immortality was the dream of every human being! And if immortality was linked, as she said, to no more of this heartache and torment… Oh, how desirable that was! And yet his mind rebelled to this. He remembered the Underworld; that dreadful place of wandering souls…he remembered Achilles who had told him he’d rather a thousand times be the last servant and alive than a god-king and dead… Why was his mind rebelling this when every mortal instinct he had was telling him to accept that? He held her wrists and softly removed them from his cheeks.

“Goddess…I immensely thank you for your proposal…there is indeed nothing sweeter echoing in the ears of a helpless mortal than immortality free of sorrows but… I cannot accept this… I must go back…”

Calypso seemed like she had been slapped as she looked at him.

“But…why!” she finally asked, “Why would you choose that? When you have been tormented so much and hurt so badly?”

“I must return to Ithaca!” Odysseus insisted, “My wife…my son are waiting for me there… And if I give up everything now, all we have been through with my companions will be in vain! I cannot just abandon them….”

Calypso stood up. Suddenly her face resembled indeed a statue; perfect and yet cold and emotionless.

“And are you sure, Odysseus, that your wife remained faithful to you? Are you sure she hasn’t betrayed you too?”

Odysseus moaned helplessly. That thought stabbed into his brain like a sword. For some reason Agamemnon’s words came to his mind that one can never trust their spouse, for he had been murdered by Clytemnystra and her lover. He shook his head. No, not Penelope! Penelope would never!

“No!” he exclaimed, “Not, Penelope! We chose each other! There is a special bond between us!”

“And yet, how do you know?” Calypso pressed, “You have been married almost two decades and yet you lived but a couple of years together. How can you know that your sweet Penelope holds your marriage the same as you do?”

“She does! I know she does! She promised she would wait! She promised me!”

“Darling! Listen to yourself! You have been away from home more than 12 years!” she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her beautiful head over his, “At best possible scenario she honored your marriage till they finally denounced you dead. Who can leave a throne vacant for so long?”

“No…” Odysseus whispered in denial, “No…no!”

“Just face the truth, my darling…you cannot deny it that over a decade people die… Your sweet Penelope might as well have found a new husband to rule your kingdom. No one can wait so long, my darling…” she whispered in his ear, “Not even you…”

Odysseus shivered. Her hot breath in his ear ringed weirdly in his soul. A natural feeling of repulse mixed with the sweet allure of her voice made him release himself from her embrace and stand up.

“I would! I would wait! I did! I still do!”

“And you are absolutely certain she would do the same? How can you be so sure that your sweet Penelope hasn’t found someone else to warm that empty wedding bed of hers?”

His bed? That bed he carved with his own two hands would be taken by someone else? That thought terrified him. No, he didn’t even want to think about it!

“Please goddess, stop! Say no more, I employ you!”

Suddenly he felt the need to defend himself against her accusations even if he had no real logical argument to repel them. It was as if his heart knew what his brain was repelling. His mother in the Underworld had told him that Penelope was enduring still and he held onto that for dear life. But, the other part of his brain was asking, how long has his mother been dead? If she met her end years ago then what guarantee did he have that Penelope hadn’t really remarried? He had none and he knew it, but he still wouldn’t want to accept such a scenario!

“But what if I am right?” Calypso insisted, “What if you are right and she endured but eventually she had to bend? What if your sweet Penelope has found a new husband?”

“Then…” the king of Ithaca whispered, “…that is one more reason for me to go back! To claim what is mine; my land, my kingdom, my palace…and my wife!”

Calypso frowned and lowered her head. She was astonished by his seer stubbornness and his refusal of seeing what he was truly refusing! She felt anger rising inside her. She adored him and she desired him. She had tried everything the past weeks to make him see it but apparently his mind was captured by his wife for an eternity and regardless of whether she managed to read his heart or not, Odysseus was once more distanced from her… She felt an anger she never felt before in her long life; was this the emotion humans named “envy”? Was she envious of a mere mortal woman? A woman that would eventually grow old and die? No, she refused to accept such weakness! And she wouldn’t lose to a mortal woman to the fight for the heart of this man she had come to adore to her bones!

Calypso was working her loom. She could feel the enchantment had faded; the sweet lithe that wanted to give to Odysseus so his pain would heal and he wouldn’t need to think so much of the things he would leave behind, had started to fade. It was as if, indeed, Odysseus’s mental and emotional strength were enough to make him indeed Equal to Gods… She banged her fist on the wood frustrated. She had seen his heart, she had saved his life, she had helped him and yet she still was so far away from him and all this time Odysseus had been resisting her incantation by seer will and emotion without even knowing it! No, she couldn’t let him leave, not before her questions were answered! What made him tick so much? What made his will to survive so strong that he managed to come out alive out of the greatest of hardships? Why was she so helplessly trapped in his charms when he was just a mortal man with no intention to seduce her in the first place? She sighed. She didn’t need to look behind her shoulder to realize it was Odysseus standing behind her.

“Calypso…” he whispered, “Great goddess of Ogygia…please…give me a vessel…give me a small ship to go back to my country… You nursed me back to health, you gave me valid answers to some of my questions… I can no longer stay here… Please, beautiful nymph I employ you…give me a ship to govern”

“There are no ships in Ogygia, Odysseus!” Calypso replied almost coldly, “No one ever comes or goes from here… Ships do not cross this sea…so full of danger”

“Then…please give me the tools to make one” Odysseus insisted, “Please, I have to go back, do you understand? I have been away from my wife and son so long! I want to embrace my precious Telemachus again! Tell him how sorry I am for missing all his life! Please be merciful, powerful nymph…please let me go…”

Calypso sighed. Her fist clenched.

“Fine…if that’s what you want to do…” she stood up to her full height and turned around

She was a tall woman; as tall as he was in total. Perhaps even a few centimeters taller. Her look was magnificent under the pale light of dusk. And yet her honey eyes shone in a dangerous way that Odysseus never saw before.

“But first, before you leave, I need something from you, Odysseus”

“Anything, goddess!” Odysseus replied almost immediately, “As long as it is within my power to give it to you”

“The gifts of Xenia, I gave you…” Calypso immediately replied; her eyes resembled now a predatory bird that had caught a mouse in her claws, “I took you in my house, I gave you my bed to sleep, I gave you my wine and bread to satiate your hunger and quench your thirst and clothes to wear. I believe you owe me some gifts of Xenia back.”

Odysseus’s heart sank in his chest.

“Goddess…” he began, “I have nothing to give you! I lost everything. If I had my vessel I would have given you all the treasures I got from Troy and every land I encountered in-between! I would give you the best wine and fabrics, jewelry and pearls from all ends of the world! The price would be too little for the good you did to me! But, alas, I have nothing. I am a ruined shipwrecked man! I have nothing to give you, to repay your hospitality!”

“Ah, Odysseus, Odysseus… There is something you can give me, something much more important than those soulless things. Wine…jewelry? Why would I need any of those? I already have plenty. However there is something you can give me, Odysseus, that nothing of those can buy…”

Odysseus eyed her curiously.

“What?” he genuinely asked, “What is it that I have that is so precious to you, good goddess?”

Calypso slowly walked to him. And then Odysseus froze because what she did next was something that totally took him aback. Her hand softly touched his cheek and then her lips landed upon his. Odysseus felt his eyes widen like a rabbit before the sight of a fox. No…no it couldn’t be! Calypso pulled back smiling seductively.

“Entertain me, Odysseus!” she whispered, “Give me what your wife enjoyed for a little while… Show me how mortals make love!”

Pale as a sheet, Odysseus took plenty of steps back.

“No…!” he whispered, “No, no! Please, I beg of you goddess! I-I can’t give you what you ask!”

“Why not?” Calypso pressured, “You gave this to the divine daughter of Helios.”

Circe’s name came back to haunt him. Yes, Odysseus had shared a bed with Circe but then it was different! Hermes had told him not to refuse her and he had his men to protect. Right now he was alone. He had no one else to protect but his own skin and right now his decision would mean so much more than just an exchange and somehow he knew it!

“Please, spare me, good goddess!” Odysseus begged, “Ask for anything else, but not that, not that please!”

Penelope…Telemachus…

“It seems like offending gods has become a second nature to you, Odysseus!” Calypso retorted, “You make it sound like the worst thing that can happen to you is to bed me!”

Odysseus turned pale in terror. No, he definitely did not mean to offend her and yet what she asked of him…

“I’ll…I’ll do anything else, goddess. I shall delay my departure to make you a magnificent palace with my own hands if you wish…”

“Why would I need such thing, Odysseus? As you see I am missing nothing in my godly grotto. Why would I need a palace in my isle?”

“I…I shall build you a temple in Ithaca once I arrive!” Odysseus desperately tried again, “I shall make you the greatest goddess of all the Cephallinians, but please spare me!”

Calypso let out a light chuckle.

“The gifts of Xenia are not something given after 10 years, Odysseus!” she said as a matter of fact, “Not to mention that there is no guarantee that you will even make it back to your little island. The way Poseidon wishes your demise, I highly doubt you will make it beyond my bay! Nay, Odysseus. Besides why would I need worship? I live content on my island like that. I’d rather get what I wished for”

“Spare me!” Odysseus cried out, “Spare me, goddess, please! I’ll fall on my knees for you, beggar at your feet, but please don’t make me do this!”

He would have indeed dropped on his knees to hug hers, to make sure that she would not push him any further but she stopped him. She had come to know him.

“Please, Odysseus, no more, otherwise it will be much harder for me to keep refusing you!”

“Please, show mercy!”

“I have stated what I want from you and that’s it” Calypso replied relentless, “Are you going to trample the laws of Xenia as well? Wasn’t the taking of Troy enough when you fought at night using trickery? Wasn’t offending one god enough? Do you now wish to trample this sacred law dictated by Zeus as well?”

Odysseus froze in place; the law of Xenia…the law that he lived on all his life with. The law that he honored above all was now brought before him. He knew he had nothing to give her and he knew he could not offend her any further. He grabbed his head in desperation.

“If I want to see my wife and child…I have to appease her… Oh, Penelope! Forgive me! I am just a man; a weak, mortal man! I cannot fight with gods! I am tired! I can’t do this anymore!” he thought in despair, “My honor…trampled so many times! Gods, mercy! No more! Please no more!”

He knew everything had a price; he had learnt that the hard way! However seeing also Calypso; the kind nymph that took him in without asking anything before; the person he thought might be the exception, now bringing such a horrendous price for him to pay stroke him harder than anything. Suddenly his heart ached and then he felt like it broke. They are all the same, he thought, all gods and humans are the same! They all require a price and they ignore the distressful pleading!

Calypso’s chambers were dimly lit in moonlight only one or two torches lit the room. Calypso was casually leaning in her bed, observing him with an unreadable look; it was a mixture of lust, amusement, curiosity and wonder… Odysseus was shaking as he turned to the low table. He poured a cup of wine for himself and he downed it. Then he took another one. He breathed heavily. Gods let me go numb tonight…he thought, let me not feel this that I am about to do…. He could feel her eyes burning holes to the back of his nape, as if she was gaining strength from his distress. As if it as amusing to her. He turned around to see the nymph; so beautiful and so terrible, staring at him.

“Take off your clothes and join me, Odysseus…” she whispered seductively

Odysseus mechanically breathed in and out and then slowly opened his chiton, revealing his wide chest. He wished his mind wasn’t so frozen and yet so aware. For the first time in his life he wished to faint here and there; black out so he will not be conscious when it happens! Calypso shot up from the bed and grabbed the cloth, tearing it apart with one single move. Odysseus winced before her strength but even more he winced when her hands touched his chest, burning his flesh like fire as she felt the curly hair that adorned it. She felt every detail, every muscle, every scar… She shivered in delight finally feeling his flesh beneath her fingertips and the reactions that came with it… She felt every tremor, every jerk that strong mortal body was emitting! She sealed his lips with hers. Odysseus had kept his mouth as tightly closed as possible. Her lips burnt like coals…his soul hurt like being torn apart! Calypso softly pulled back and whispered against his lips;

“Like you mean it, Odysseus…like you mean it!”

Odysseus nearly broke down in tears as her lips sealed his again. He tried really hard to respond, feeling a jerk to his hair by her strong hand.

“I am Odysseus of Ithaca! Father to sweet Telemachus…son of Laërtes…There is nothing I can’t endure!”

The strokes came even lower. Odysseus prayed with all the power of his soul that his body wouldn’t react; that she would lose interest in him…however, as always, the gods were relentless. He felt his body responding to her caresses and her forcible seduction. He held back himself; no he wouldn’t moan! Be it pleasure or pain; he wouldn’t react! He wouldn’t give off the storm inside him!

“I am the Man of Many Turns…Goodly Odysseus! I am the Sacker of Cities! I am the spawn of Hermes…grandson of Autolycus! I shall not…I cannot be broken…!”

The touch nearly drove him insane in rage and confusion! He sighed as he nearly felt himself losing his footing.

“Endure my heart…please endure…! You have endured worse…!”

She led him on her bed…to which he was forced to lay and she threw her dress off her body revealing herself to him as pretty as she was terrible. As she climbed over him Odysseus wanted to shut his eyes closed, to hide those small tears that escaped his eyes and got lost in his curly hair.

“Oh, Athena! Oh, Pallas! Why! Why! Why! Please guide me to take this bitter cup upon my lips! Why are you silent, Athena? Why did you abandon me?”

As more kisses cascaded his body and he felt those arms almost pinning him on the bed, Odysseus remembered Circe… She had led him to her bed thinking she had his consent… Calypso knew she didn’t. She knew he couldn’t escape and yet it was as if she wanted to make sure! As she slowly raised herself to a position that was comfortable, Odysseus felt his heart break. The sudden rush made him almost lose his breath. He threw his head back in a silent scream. He wanted to close his eyes and yet he couldn’t avoid the terrible sight; he saw that face that was always calm and collected; maternal even now distorted in a mask of forceful bliss and a cascade of sighs and hums. That body that supported him before and helped him move about in the cave when he was weak was now moving over him making a series of sensations rush through his veins…those hands that so gently and so strongly supported him were now pinning him down; her left hand resting somewhere behind her back, close to the scar that adorned his leg and the other pressing upon his laryngeal prominence. He clenched his jaw till it hurt so he wouldn’t groan in distress; his body reacting to her treatment was much more terrifying even than the sight of hers on top of him.

“No more…please gods no more…”

And then it was over! He nearly fell back to the pillows breathing heavily like wounded. Calypso was breathing as well; only in delight. She didn’t seem half as tired as he was…

“On my word, Odysseus!” she panted softly, “You really ARE ‘Equal to gods’!”

He felt nauseous! He wanted to scream. He remained on the same position…not daring to look at her anymore as she kissed his cheek tenderly, hands tracing his body. Only one tear escaped his eye.

“Why…? WHY!”

Calypso was humming softly as she was arranging her hair. She had thrown a robe around her naked body, looking at her reflection at the bronze spectrum. Odysseus almost staggered in the room. He had thrown a new chiton over himself but he still felt the shame around him. He was breathing irregularly in rage and sadness.

“Now…” he panted, “Give me a vessel, goddess! Let me go home as you promised…!”

“Promise?” Calypso asked almost innocently, “I don’t recall promising such thing!”

Odysseus felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart.

“What?!” he croaked out, “But you said…”

“I said that you need to entertain me, Odysseus, to return me my gifts of Xenia but I did not promise I would immediately give you the means to make a vessel. And besides did you honestly think that one night is enough to buy your life’s worth?”

“I am ruined!” Odysseus cried out, “I am ashamed! I will probably never be able to face my wife and son again! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!” he finally yelled beyond his wits.

Calypso looked at him sincerely.

“I want you to love me, Odysseus!”

She stood up, taking advantage of his sudden shock.

“At first I was curious…I was not sure how mortals make love; this desperation that is linked to your temporary nature… Does it feel better for you that you know you are doomed? To us is just another pass time sometimes but to mortals it means so much more… But…”

She actually almost blushed! Odysseus though felt disgust and hatred.

“…But now, I am not sure if I can let you go! After feeling you…I just confirmed what I knew. You cured my loneliness…you filled an empty spot I never knew I had in my heart! I love you, Odysseus! And I want you to love me like I do…”

“Love?” Odysseus chocked in the word, “You call this love?!”

This was the only way the immortals knew to show love? Tormenting the mortals?

“I know I can win your heart, my love…” Calypso ignored him, “I know I can help you live here…with me…how to make you mine…and I shall be yours as your wife!”

“You will NEVER be my wife!”

“Oh but you are wrong, my dear. We united before gods and witnesses! You are my husband now, by the laws of gods!”

“Never! I have a wife! She waits for me! You are not my wife and you shall never be! I want to leave! You can’t hold me here!”

“You stayed one year with the witch Circe! Why acting so pious all of the sudden?”

For one moment the king of Ithaca saw only red. His hand grabbed her throat before he would realize it. Calypso was shocked only for one second but then a smirk crept to her lips.

“Like you mean it, Odysseus…” she whispered in a mocking manner, “…Like you mean it!”

Odysseus was shivering in anger. Oh, how easy it seemed if he could snap that neck that seemed so delicate! And yet he knew the truth; those bones beneath were not mortal bones and he would never manage to do anything to them and even if he did, she wouldn’t die…no, she wouldn’t die…! He let go of her running out of the room.

“You will never leave this place, you know…” Calypso’s casual voice stopped him in his tracks, “This island from the land till the currents around the sea respond to my will. Every single breeze and wave shall bring you back….”

Odysseus did not want to believe this! He ran out of the grotto. At the beach he knew he had no vessel but at that moment roaming the sea like he had come to this island didn’t seem as terrible as the fate that awaited him here. He threw a log in the water and tried to paddle away on it but, indeed the waves pushed him back on shore. He tried again with no avail. He desperately jumped into the sea to swim with all his might but the result was the same. Exhausted and exasperated Odysseus was once more pushed to the shores of Ogygia.

“No!” Odysseus yelled as he paced up and down like a wounded tiger in the cage.

In his anger he roared and threw a rock to the waves but that’s all he could do. He gave up. He sat down the sand, drawing his knees to his chest and remained silent under the stars… In what seemed like eons, he heard Calypso’s light footsteps upon the sand and the pebbles.

“Odysseus…” she called for him, “Come inside, it is getting late”

“No thank you!” he replied in a low dangerous voice

“You shall need to eat something, my love, come back inside.”

“Your price is too high to pay!”

“Come inside, Odysseus” she repeated, “I will order for your meal to be prepared.”

“I’d rather die of hunger and cold!”

Calypso sighed. It was the type of sigh a disappointed mother would give to a child.

“As you wish” she said, “But remember you should know better not to cross with me that much, my darling. I love your spirit, I really do, however you should know better that I shall not ask twice…”

Odysseus turned to look at the waves so she wouldn’t see his jaw shiver…so she wouldn’t see the fear in his eyes. Yes, he knew. Achilles was just a mortal man and yet all he needed to do was to plead his goddess mother to bring misfortune upon all Achaeans… He didn’t even dare to imagine what this immortal could do if she wanted. What if she ordered immortal nymphs of the oceans to drown his beautiful little kingdom? What stopped her from doing this…? Finally he heard her footsteps as she walked away. Odysseus was left alone…

As he was sitting there…his tears began to flow in the middle of the cold night. He buried his face in his folded arms.

“Gods! Is this, then, my fate…? Being the lapdog of a goddess every time she pleases? Shall this be the fate of Odysseus of Ithaca? Alas! Why! Why gods! I only made one mistake! I only…why! Why! Haven’t I graced you all with sacrifices and worship? Why did you abandon me? Over one mistake…?”

The smell of cooked meat came to his nostrils. His stomach growled in hunger. Once more he lamented himself and his mortal nature. He was hungry and Calypso knew that and she was using it to torment him. He clenched his head with his hands.

“Oh, alas! Is that what my men had to suffer out there…? Is this why their mortal bodies could take no more?”

He wondered why, how could he forget his lament over their loss for so long!

“That cursed witch and her spells!” he lamented, “Taking away this sorrow…putting my conscious to sleep!”

He remembered his promise…

“I have to survive…If I die here who is going to remember them? Who is going to know they were here? Who is going to tell their story? I am the only one left! I am the only one who can remember them…”

He heard the waves…his heart felt cold and heavy like the stones residing in the ocean. I don’t even have a tomb for them…he thought, I can’t even build them a funeral pyre… He felt his curly hair with his hand. His long hair was the crown on his head; thick and long; they had tangled a lot from the wind and the salt water while he traveled, almost forming natural locks. Ever since he arrived to Calypso’s isle it was always neatly combed and washed. His hand searched the beach and caught a sharp stone. He held his hair with one hand and then with the stone, slowly and methodically he cut it short as his nape… He held that hair in his hand before throwing it in the sea…the last funerary tribute that he could give them. He would survive. He would survive even if he meant to do anything for it! He would try to reach Ithaca! He would continue their legacy!

Calypso was sitting by the fire as her maids stirred the stew in the cauldron. She looked up and smiled. Odysseus was standing there. His face was like stone; his eyes bottomless and liquid. His hair that used to be thick and long now it was cut. His eyes were stained and burnt from tears. Calypso though smiled. She had confidence in herself that her spouse would learn to love her. It was only a matter of time and she had all the time in the world.

“Odysseus!” she whispered, “I am so glad you decided to come…”

She extended her richly adorned hand towards him. That hand that had given him life now it seemed ready to severe it.

“Come…” she urged softly, “Come to sit by the fire to get warm…we have dinner almost ready…”

One last tear ran down his cheek. Yes, he would survive no matter the cost; even if that would be his sanity and honor! The gods were silent to his prayers. He was alone. He had to survive alone…

He spoke no words anymore…

He walked in the grotto…

~~~

Oh my gosh! What have I done indeed! TT_TT but yeah...I do not fully regret! I believe this wll be the 3rd and final part of Sirvor's Guilt/Duty and I hope you enjoyed the wild ride!

Calypso weaving was inspired by this amazing soundtrack from "The Perfume"

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Calypso showing Odysseus the events that occured before he arrived was inspired by the Odyssey since Odysseus mentions in his narrative how he was filled in the details by Calypso

I just HAD to include the Skylla moment because it was one of the most brutal description in the Odyssey so one can see how much Odysseus was traumatized!

Now as for how Calypso knows the details well...gods are often depicted to know things even if they aren't there (even if at other times they don't!)

And my extra explanation as to why Odysseus could not go anywhere.

The After Note was inspired by the clip from nbc Dracula (particulary the expression of poor Odysseus so read at your own accord! xd)

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~~~~~~~~~

(After note)

The night was silent as always on Ogygia. The silence could strangle you. Odysseus slowly lifted himself from the narrow bed. His expression was unreadable. It was as if the pain and sorrow had left a permanent dark scar to his face that would never allow anyone to see him smile again. His hair was tangled and his beard untidy almost just like the bed that seemed even messier. He looked to the side and his eyes darkened even further, if that would even be possible, as he gazed upon Calypso’s body. She was sleeping on her stomach, with her head towards the other direction, one of her beautiful legs drawn slightly towards her. Her dark hair adorned with gold, seashells and pearls were flowing all around her like second layer of jewels and yet to Odysseus they seemed like deadly tentacles; like the heads of the dreadful Skylla that consumed his comrades when it seemed like an eternity prior. Her soft breathing was barely heard and yet to Odysseus it was echoing in his brain driving him mad. He was choking. He needed fresh air! He slowly got out of the bed, feeling the light pain down his back. He walked out of the room, feeling the cold stone of the grotto under his bare feet. He didn’t care at all that he was absolutely naked at that moment; he didn’t bother to cover himself even if there was a possibility one of the nymphs of Calypso to be around. Odysseus felt there was no sense of shame in him anymore. He ignored the nudity of his body as well as a few small scratches and bruises upon it that were accidentally caused by some miscalculation on Calypso’s strength during some of their endless nights of her passion and intercourse. Calypso had apologized of course. But then again Odysseus had stopped caring. He had tried resisting her before but with no avail, as she was much stronger than what he was. He had even tried begging her; one night! Spare me at least one night! However long now, Odysseus had stopped caring. There was no fight in him anymore.

It had been two years already, the king of Ithaca had calculated; two years of torture and despair. His hair that he had cut as a tribute to his dead men had already started to grow longer. If it were in his hands he wouldn’t even bother to brush it anymore. He didn’t feel much like grooming himself or taking care of himself. He didn’t seem to see the point in it anymore and, besides, there more unattractive he appeared in her eyes, the better. If it weren’t for the nymphs who prepared him regularly for these nightly torments of his then Odysseus probably would have stopped doing anything. The longing for return was eating his guts like a worm eating the flesh of a rotten apple; he could almost feel it through his gut! However the hope for his return was getting slimmer and slimmer. And it wasn’t just his bitter nostos that was eating him up. It was also haste and doubt. Calypso had planted that seed of doubt before and now she kept watering it with every night of abuse that Odysseus had to suffer. He was closing in that island as long as he took to travel there. Ten years he was away to Troy, three years he was traveling, losing his men one by one and now two years of imprisonment. He was away from home 15 years. What if Calypso for once was right? What if Penelope out of seer coercion decided that he was long dead and had to marry again? What would happen to him then if that last piece of him was uprooted from him? Or, much worse, what would happen if… No, Odysseus thought, that scenario he didn’t want to accept! Not Penelope…Penelope was different! She would never cheat on his memory, right? She had promised to him she would wait for his return…

“And how long is she supposed to wait for you?” there was a voice in the back of his head, “You left her wait 15 years…who would wait that long?”

Who indeed? Who would remain faithful to a man who disappeared for so long? Odysseus shivered. He didn’t even want to think about it, despite the doubt biting his heart like a snake. He remembered Agamemnon, whom he had met in the bitter ends of the Underworld. He told him to beware for his wife murdered him upon his return…with her lover.

“No! Not, Penelope! Penelope would never…”

This thought he had made so many times while residing at the beach crying or even within the arms of Calypso at night. These thoughts constantly twirling in his mind. Penelope was a kind woman when he met her. A nice soft bride. However as Calypso had said; they were married almost 20 years and yet he had known her for around a handful. What if she wasn’t who he thought she was? What if she was coerced to change? And his sweet Telemachus…his son would be now 15 years of age; around the age he was when he got his infamous scar by the boar at Parnassus. His son would be practically a man now; independent and strong. He had missed a quarter of his life; his son probably feared his father would be dead. He felt like every single day he spent on that island would be a tick to the clock against him; Penelope marrying again and Telemachus never knowing his father or hearing his voice… This was way too much to bear… His whole life moving on without him was way too much to endure. His pain was eating him up. His hair had started to grow gray. He knew his own youth was long gone however the silver edges to his temples shouldn’t normally appear so fast. His father never grew white. Even when he left for war he had his black hair almost intact and barely started to grow gray. However Odysseus felt like his own features had changed over the years. He saw himself at a polished bronze mirror once and he was surprised. He could hardly recognize the prematurely aged man inside the copper surface. Calypso didn’t seem bothered though. She even seemed to enjoy this change that his torment had brought about him; perhaps she was charmed by his mortal nature; this nature that showed how helpless existence was, that no matter what one did, their time on this earth would be counted for anyways.

Eventually he reached the entrance of the wide, white cave. He was greeted by the sounds of the night and the cold night breeze. Odysseus, though, didn’t shiver nor did he feel it. It was as if his body had turned into marble; his heart into stone. It didn’t matter if in the mornings he was seeking sanctuary to the solitude of the sandy beach and there he would bawl his eyes out almost all day; having nothing else to do but gaze at the waves and cry. In the night Odysseus was a cold statue; as if he had no more tears to shed. As he stood there, listening to the song of the crickets and the waves to the far beyond he felt weak…he felt helpless…he felt like nobody…Oh, how many times had he wished he could get in her room and kill her! How many times he wished he could snap her neck, smother her with a pillow or open that delicate throat with his sword! But he knew it would be impossible. He looked up and noticed a night bird flying to the sky. His furious eyes became liquid and his fists clenched painfully.

“If only you never existed…!” he thought bitterly, “If only you gods never existed! Then us mortals could live our life in peace!”

He was always faithful to the gods. Many people had said he was the best when it came to sacrifices and respect. But now it all seemed pointless in the cover of this dreadful night and all the nights before. Odysseus had come to fear the night and its creatures and feeling disgust by them and he came to hate the day because it only held solitude and sadness. He didn’t even get his usual nightmares as he often got when he slept for the past years; it was as if he was completely hollow. There was hardly anything left of him anymore. Not even his faith. He watched the night owl fly soundlessly in the moonlight and his heart was filled with anger and despair. Athena, why did you abandon me, he thought. Curse you too! How can you leave me like this! However as if he realized the severity of his own mind his eyes watered and a tear ran down his cheek.

“Gods, I am turning into a monster…” he thought, “If I lose my faith to the gods…then…then what’s left of me then…? Is there anything left of Odysseus of Ithaca, father to sweet Telemachus and son of Laërtes?”

He looked back at the grotto that had become his salvation and now his prison and torture. Oh, how he wished he turned that place into a second Troy! How he wished he had his trusty bow that he left to Ithaca, to shoot his arrows to all these creatures that tormented him and set this place in fire! If only he could! He visualized so many times driving arrows to the sensitive flesh of these women and leaving Calypso for last… He would enter her rooms dripping the dark blood of her companions; naked sword in hand so she could see; take a good look on what she did to him and then she would feel the kiss of the metal to her tender throat… He visualized her death so many times that he could almost taste it… Something in his mind snapped. He could almost feel like doing it. Eyes on fire and dripping hot tears he clenched his fists to the point of almost breaking the skin with his nails. He slowly marched to the room only to find her sleeping in the same position; totally unperturbed by his torment.

“Why am I the monster…?” he thought, “And she can sleep peacefully…? After everything she did to me…?”

As madness crept even more into his heart as his infamous temper was about to explode his hands were clenching in a painful grip but he refused to feel the pain. Maybe he could do it tonight. Maybe he could try… Perhaps she was a normal nymph after all; immortal but not indestructible! Maybe he could take his vengeance from this magnificent being that tormented him in the cover of the night, why not? He had done this before. One more sin to add to his miserable life; one more attempt! He could at least try. If it didn’t work, the worst case scenario would be that he would be liberated from this if her anger turned against him! Slowly and soundlessly like a lion in the night he crept on the bed over her. His onyx eyes were even darker than the night around him; yes, he could try! Slowly and carefully he crawled over her when…

An iron hand grabbed his throat, cutting his breath for one second.

Odysseus felt his heart skip a beat. He recognized that soft hand; it was smooth and sleek like silk but held the power of three men in that tiny touch. Suddenly all his previous resolve; his madness evaporated in thin air by the reminder of her strength. No, he had absolutely no chance of doing anything to her. She was no ordinary nymph. She was the daughter of the titan Atlas, the man who held the sky… That grip on his throat lasted for only one second because immediately after it turned into a tender touch to the sides of his neck, followed by a second hand that held him there; softly and yet demandingly. Calypso raised her body to meet his face with hers; her eyes glistering with love and passion.

“Odysseus…!” she whispered

Her voice was barely audible and yet Odysseus didn’t really feel like reacting anymore as those lips sealed his and kissed him deeply. Odysseus felt exhausted. It was as if all his previous anger had taken the life out of him. He knew he had no choice but to respond to her kiss. He had come to know her. He grasped her hair to the back of her head and pulled desperately; in a weak and pitiful attempt to hurt her back. It was his way of showing the weak resistance he could; he would often grab or pull her hair when she kissed him or grasp her in what would have been a bruising grip for any other grown mortal man but it didn’t work on Calypso and he knew it, if anything it was almost like confirmation to her that he was equally passionate, giving her the wrong impression. He knew it was doing nothing. It was just his last way to show his will. As Calypso wrapped her beautiful legs around his waist she pulled him down with her.

Odysseus felt his tears dry in his eyes.

He was once more a statue.

He chose not to feel…

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