Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

New Orleans, 1928.

On the outskirts of the thriving, bustling city of New Orleans lay an overgrown swamp. The air was humid and hot, especially with the summer heatwave, making the swamp feel like a boiling sauna. Wooded trees sprung up from the mud, roots spidering out like long fingers. Willow trees sagged over open pools of water, dipping the tips of their leaves into the clouded, green reservoirs. The golden sun seeped through the spaces between the leaves, shining upon the still surface of the water. Around the shallows were clusters of weeds, reeds, and cattails that swayed in the natural breeze. The air was filled with the symphony of birds chirping and insects clicking, their noises echoing all through the bayou. 

Underneath the water, life flourished as well. Frogs nested and mated on land and in the water. Turtles sat as still as stone, sunbathing on floating driftwood. Burrowed in the mud were catfish, whiskers twitching in search of food. And of course, there were Alligators. The apex predator of the land, cutting across the water with ease. The only thing that poked above the surface were their eyes and snout, tiny dots bobbing above the water’s edge. 

The swamps of New Orleans were places in which most humans stayed well away from. Other than the occasional hunter, or couples taking midnight strolls in secrecy, the bayou was left alone and untamed. 

Which was good for you. 

You had created your nest in the deepest part of the water, below the largest tree you could find. The submerged roots had curled into a pod-like shape, building the skeleton of your new nest. Using mud, clay, and other weeds, you patched up the spaces in between them, creating a small dome with an entrance. Your little cocoon was small but comfortable. And most of all - it was safe. 

Safe from the humans, who didn’t even know you existed. 

It wasn’t always like that. There was a time, long before you were born, where your kind didn’t have to take so many precautions to go undetected. But after the humans turned against your species with murderous intent, hunting and killing them for sport, they were left with no choice but to go into hiding. 

The humans could barely tolerate themselves, much less another species who’s diet consisted of human meat. 

After the flood that separated you from the rest of your tribe, you had found yourself all alone, in a strange place with strange smells. As the years had passed, so did the fear of your new environment, so did the hope of returning to your tribe. 

Now, after many long years, you had settled into a safe, calming life. You hunted the fish and amphibians within the water, you scoured the bottom for pretty rocks or empty shells to decorate your nest with, you weaved intricate braids and ropes from the natural weeds. It was a plain life, but you were lucky to have it. 

The thought of adventuring out of the water had crossed your mind multiple times, but it wasn’t an option. You could breathe above water, sure, but your tail and webbed hands made it difficult to traverse the earth. Your body was also very aqueous, it needed constant hydration to survive. If you dried up in the dirt, that would be the end of you. 

Besides, it was too dangerous. Humans still came to the swamp, in their floating devices and deadly metal hooks. You had nearly screamed when you witnessed a fish bite into a piece of bait, only to be pierced through the mouth and yanked above the surface. 

So, you were stuck in the water, staying as far away from the surface as you could. Because of that, the only world you knew was that in the water, painted shades of green and brown. It was dull, and though you were safe, you were bored. Oh, how you wished desperately for something exciting to happen. 

One day, your wish was granted.

You had taken a swim away from your nest, in an area that was shallower, but still safe enough for you to relax without being seen. You lied down on your back, blowing bubbles up at the distant surface, where the light refracted in the water. Your hair fanned out behind you, drifting and moving with the natural flow of the water. 

You sighed and closed your eyes. It had been many years since you had gotten separated from your family. While the pain and sorrow you initially felt had passed, it hadn’t gone away entirely. The same went for your new home. There were things you still couldn’t get used to, like the smell. The water smelt stale and had an odour to it that made your nose curl. 

Now that you thought about it, there was something else to it too… a familiar scent that you recognized from somewhere. 

Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, your eyes shot open. 

You rolled onto your front and sniffed deeply. Your keen sense of smell recognized the scent instantly. 

Blood . 

But this wasn’t normal blood. It was different. It smelled different. 

Primal instinct kicking in, you followed the smell. The scent brought you to an area where the water bowed out into a small, deep pool. It was a place you normally wouldn’t have explored. The space was too small for your liking and there was also a human contraption propped up in it, a set of wooden posts holding up flat slats. The hunters with the floating devices would enter and exit from the wooden bases whenever they explored the waters, you believed they called it a ‘dock’. 

Oh, there .

Floating at the surface was a colour unlike anything you’d ever seen, one that popped against the dingy greens and browns. Dark and bright, the dense clouds expanded into lighter ribbons, curling in the open water. 

That colour, yes you’d seen it before. In brief glimpses of the reflections of birds, or when you’d take a bite out of your latest kill.

Red. 

The sight mesmerized you. Your eyes never left the phenomenon, not wanting to miss a single second. Eventually, the blood lightened with colour and diffused into the rest of the murky water, leaving behind nothing but the fading scent of metal.

Slowly, you inched towards where the cloud used to be. As your head broke the surface of the water you were blinded by the light of the setting sun. You squinted, keeping close to the shadows of the dock and blinking water from your eyes. You wanted to get a look at what had caused the beautiful colour. 

A man was there. A human man. His back was turned to you but he had on a brown...oh dear, what were those called again? You wracked your brain to remember the stories your father used to teach you, back when you were no bigger than a guppy.

Humans weren’t like your kind, they needed more than their skin to stay warm. They wore something akin to veils and covered their entire bodies with them to protect themselves from nature. You believed your father also said something about humans needing to be modest, and how they felt embarrassed from others seeing their bare skin. Which made you very confused. You’d spied countless of couples undressing in the dead of the night and embracing one another. They certainly didn’t have any clothes on. 

Aha! That’s what they were - clothes ! And the brown cloth that enveloped the man, from your memory, was a coat .

You moved to get a closer look, sloshing the water around a bit. The man froze in place, hearing your movements. You plunged back down into the water, sinking low into the shadows.

The silhouette of the man wavered into view at the edge of the wooden structure. He leaned on his hands and knees, looking down into the water. 

You held your breath, hands cupping themselves over your mouth. You swore he made eye contact with you. Your heart skipped a beat. 

After an agonizing few seconds, his figure wavered, blurred, and retreated entirely. 

Relief flooded you. You exhaled, blowing a flurry of bubbles at the surface. That was too close for your comfort. You don’t know what you would have done had he spotted you. 

Once your heart recovered from its scare, you poked your head up again.

The man was gone.

Chapter Text

New Orleans, 1928. Autumn 

Over the course of a month, the human returned to the pond multiple times. 

The first time you saw this, it had been because you wanted to see what had gotten the alligators so excited. They were clicking amongst each other happily, fighting over scraps of meat and spinning in the water.

Thinking of new opportunities to get food, you hunted for the source of the meat. It didn’t take you very long to find its origin. Your nose led you to the same dock where you had first encountered the human. The scent of blood hung heavily in the air, standing out from all the other smells. 

You waited in the shadows of the dock, tail churning up debris and sand in the water. It was quite pretty, with scales of teal and seafoam. Colours that, in your natural ocean home, would have shimmered under the water beautifully. But beneath the murky swamp water, the colours were dulled, resembling the algae that stuck to your hair and fins on the side of your face.

Blegh. 

After waiting there an entire afternoon, your patience was rewarded with approaching footsteps.

You tensed as a shadow passed above you. Tucking your tail close to your body, you watched as the shadow approached the edge of the dock. 

It was the human man, the same one from the other day. 

He had brought a large object with him. It rattled the dock when he placed it down. 

Then, the funniest thing happened.

Human meat was dropped into the water. 

You begin salivating at the familiar scent. How long has it been since you last had a bite of human meat? It had to be centuries ago. 

The meat is not from the man at the dock  (it would be baffling if he began chopping up parts of himself and throwing them into the water), but meat of his kind nonetheless.

Bits and pieces, small enough to be consumed with one bite. As the meat hit the water, a couple of gators emerged from the shallows, snapping up the scraps and chewing on them.

The blood curled and dissolved in the water in its usual pattern. As always, it still mesmerized you. 

A few remains of flesh and blood were thrown into the water before the man packed up and walked away. You waited for an extra five minutes until you decided to move, cautiously emerging from the shadows.

The gators had already dispersed, leaving only you in the vicinity. You dug around the mud at the bottom, fingers searching for any scraps the gators left behind. Your claws ran against something squishy, and you pulled it out from the mud.

The leftover meat you found was small, a mere bite-sized-portion of muscle attached to a broken bone. But it still made a primal growl rise in your throat. 

Your species’ diet used to consist mostly of humans, hunting and picking of sailors that travelled further from the shore. But that all changed when the humans started wondering why their people were disappearing, hunting for the mysterious tailed-humans they’d spotted in the deep. 

They hunted and slayed the merfolk without mercy. Capturing some of them, killing most. The merfolk were forced into hiding, surviving in deeper sections of the water. They became frugal with their huntings, going after sea life and eating the plants that grew underwater. Eventually, the humans stopped hunting the merfolk. But fear kept them underwater. 

Over time, your species became a myth. There were a few attempts to reconnect with the humans, from different tribes and species of merfolk around the seas, but they all ended in failure.

A growl from your stomach pulled you from your thoughts. You bit a tiny portion of the meat.

A beautiful, fatty flavour spread across your tastebuds. You moaned in pleasure, rolling around the meat on your tongue, savouring it. 

Slowly, you ate the entire thing, bone and all. You stared at your empty hands wistfully. That was the most delicious thing you’d eaten in a long time.

Until sunset, you searched the bed for more scraps. Once night came, you returned to your nest, vowing to return the next day.

The human was scary, yes, but the prospect of more meat outweighed your fear. 

Over the month, you noticed a pattern in the human’s schedule. 

He’d only show up once every 10 moons or so, always late in the evening. He always dropped the same thing: Human meat. He’d come onto the dock, drop it in, watch until the gators ate everything, and left. Then you’d search the bottom for scraps. If you were luckly, you’d go home with a few bites of human meat in your stomach. 

You’d gotten scared once when you’d been just about to search for scraps when the human suddenly returned, peering down into the water under him. But after a moment, he simply got up and left.

Other than that, there had been no complications. 

Until his 5th arrival. 

On his 5th arrival, he dropped a piece of meat into the water, as usual. Only this time, no gators came to gobble up the remains. Not one. 

That alone was enough to make you wary, but the human just kept pouring meat into the water. He had dumped a huge pile into the water before he stopped, the blood oozing that wonderful colour of red. 

Then the man left the dock, footsteps fading and disappearing from your ears.

You sat in your usual spot, confused with the situation.

At least one gator should have smelt the blood by that point. But the only creatures eating from the pile of delivered meat were other fish and crustaceans at the bottom of the swamp.

Deciding to put your doubts aside, you cautiously swam up to the pile, pulling and taking your fill from it.

With no gators around, you had the chance to gorge yourself with handfuls of meat, not just the scraps. 

The taste reminded you of home, of a long time ago when your mother fed you a portion of food after your first successful hunt. She had laughed at your ecstatic reaction to human meat for the first time. When you asked for seconds and thirds, she heaped more portions onto your plate with a warm smile.

The memory clenched painfully around your heart. You missed your family painfully. 

The nostalgic feelings you had were abruptly interrupted by a hand grabbing you by the hair. It tugged you upwards, pulling you out of the water. Then suddenly, you come face-to-face with the human. 

His eyes were wide, coloured a beautiful shade of burgundy behind glass frames. His sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, revealing brown skin underneath it. His mouth was open in shock, pearly white teeth poking out from behind his lips. Before he could say anything, you bit down on his arm. He yelled out in pain, letting go of your hair. You fell and hit the edge of the dock with your hip. The wood dug into your skin painfully. 

“Wait-” he stared. But you were already diving back into the water, heart hammering a mile a minute, and swimming far far away from the pool.

Stupid! So, so, so stupid! You scolded yourself. Decades of hiding from the humans had turned you cocky, had made you lower your guard. And now you’d been spotted. That human would go tell all his other humans about the mermaid who lives in the swamp and then that’d be it! You’d be history. 

The thoughts were all so heartbreaking the second you returned to your nest, you flopped down on the floor and sobbed for the rest of the afternoon. The humans would come, and once they did, everything would be taken from you.

But as time passed and the night fell, your fears were temporarily put aside. Surely, the humans wouldn’t hunt at night? They needed the daylight to properly see. Aha! They were waiting for morning, to get a fresh start on the day and hunt the entire swamp!

So, you waited until morning. Once the sun rose, you lazed about for the entire morning, pressing at your hip where a bruise was forming from your fall. You only got out to catch fish when your stomach growled at you.  

Let the humans come, you thought. Let them come and kill you! It would be better than this boring life you’d lived thus far. 

Time passed. The sun rose, the number of fish you caught increased. 

Shouldn’t you have heard something by now?

The sun stretched, the water warmed, your stomach couldn’t handle another bite of carp. 

Finally, near the end of the afternoon, a buzzing sound caught your attention. One of the human’s floating contractions was passing by.

This is it, you thought. They’ve found you at last. 

But the contraption simply passed by you, the people in it only showing in interest in catching the fish that swam by.

Weird.

By nightfall, your fears of being hunted had gone away completely, replaced by confusion. 

What was going on? Shouldn’t you have been hunted for by now?

The next morning, despite all odds, you decided to return to the place you met the human. You took extra precautions this time, taking care when you swam. From a safe distance away, you poked your head up from the water and scouted the place out.

The man was waiting for you, sitting down on the dock with his feet dangling above the water’s edge. His wavy brown hair was styled back, something that made you curious as to how he did that.  He held a strange square between one hand, eyes reading it curiously. 

The second you so much as moved, his eyes snapped towards you. His eyes widened in shock, and his smile broke into a larger grin. He snapped the square shut and placed it down beside him, cupping his hands over his mouth. 

“Hello there!” He exclaimed, voice loud and enthusiastic. “How are you doing on this fine day?”

You silently thanked your father for teaching you about the human language, so many years ago. Without it, you wouldn’t understand a word he was saying.

You held his gaze, staring at him cautiously. 

“Why don’t you come closer? I don’t bite!”

You swam forward bit by bit, stopping once you were a few meters away from the man. He leaned forward over the water’s edge, squinting at you though rounded frames perched on his nose. 

“I’ll be,” he whistled. “And here I thought someone was playing a prank on me! Ahaha!”

You shied away from his boisterous laugh. 

“Oh, pardon me,” he shook his head, extending a hand out towards you. “Where are my manners? Hello! My name is Alastor, what might your name be?”

You blinked at him confusedly. What was he doing? Was it some sort of greeting humans had?

“You’re a human.” you stated bluntly, rising your mouth above the water so you weren’t blowing bubbles. “And you’re not going to hurt me?”

He lowered his hand and chuckled. “My dear, what ever made you think I’d hurt you?”

“Humans aren’t kind to my species.” 

“Well I can assure you, I have no ill intent towards you! In fact, I’m rather interested in you!”

You cocked your head to the side.

“Interested?”

“Yes, interested! Interested as to how something so... peculiar is living in the swamps of New Orleans!” His voice was loud, harbouring an ungodly amount of enthusiasm in it. “You’re curious with me too, aren’t you? I’ve noticed you lurking in the shadows before. I thought you were some type of rare eel or fish, certainly not a mythical creature.”

So he had noticed you, huh. You scolded yourself again for being negligent. 

“You throw meat in the water,” you said. “Human meat.”

In an instant, his eyes darkened. His smile became more toothy. “What makes you think it’s human meat, little guppy?”

You were going to ignore the guppy part for now. “I know what human meat smells like.”

His fingers tapped against the wood of the dock, his words tinted with the lace of a threat. 

“And have you talked to other humans about this? How human meat is being thrown into the swamp?”

You shook your head, causing ripples in the water. “Just you. I don’t talk to humans. You’re actually the first one I’ve ever spoken to.”

He searched your face for a moment before relaxing, the edge to his voice gone. “I see.”

He shuffled in his pocket, pulling out a small paper bag. The bottom was soaked in a fluid. Alastor unraveled the bag, producing a bloody chunk of meat. He held it in his gloved fingers, not minding when the blood ran down into his sleeve. 

“Would you care for a snack, then?”

Your mouth watered, body pulling you towards him. 

“Ah ah ah!” Alastor lifted it in the air, shaking his free finger at you. “If you want this, we need to strike a deal, first.”

You blinked up at him, staring at the piece of meat longingly. “...deal?”

He nodded, continuing. “I’ll keep bringing you food so long as you’ll keep my being here a secret from the rest of the humans. Sound fair?”

You thought about it for a moment. You weren’t going to talk to another human in the first place, but you supposed you’d agree so long you’d get food. And get to see that beautiful colour of red. “Ok.”

Alastor smiled, tossing you the piece of meat at you like you were a dog. You chewed on your treat, trying to pace yourself. 

“While we’re at it, I’m very curious as to what exactly you are,” He pulled out a small ticking object from his pocket, squinting at it. “But that’ll have to wait for next time. Can’t be out too late now!” 

He snapped the ticking circle shut, stood up, dusted off his pants off, and stretched. His back cracked loudly. 

“Well, little guppy, until next time!”

Alastor bowed, then walked away, humming as he went. You watched until he disappeared into the swamp, blinking at what had just transpired.

Well, it seemed like things were going to get interesting. 

Chapter Text

New Orleans 1928, Winter

With the coming of winter, the oppressive heat of the summer wavered off into a cool, chilling wind. The days became shorter, clouds turned the skies grey, and the temperature dropped drastically. It never got cold enough to snow, but just enough for the leaves on the trees to turn and fall. 

Honestly, it was the perfect temperature for you, as you didn’t need to spend the entire time submerged in the water to escape the heat.

The passing of the weeks was marked by Alastor’s visits. He always came in evenings, bringing a bag of goodies for you to eat. 

The first time he visited, you barely said anything, still wary about the stranger. But the more times he strolled onto the dock with his dazzling smile, the more his warm attitude thawed your cold walls. 

Around the third or fourth week, he asked you a question. 

“Are you alright just sitting in the water like that? Do you not get cold?” He had been sitting on the dock, the ends of his long coat trailing behind him. You were resting on a half-submerged boulder, nested in a thickle of weeds. 

“No,” you answered, tearing apart an extra fatty piece Alastor had brought with him. “Not in the same way you do. Our bodies adapt to the temperature of the water no matter how cold it gets. This is nothing.”  

In the north, there was a tribe that made their nests and palaces into the large hunks of ice that sprinkled the ocean. Your family, before you had gotten separated, had taken a vacation there when you were little. You still remembered that trip fondly.

“I see,” Alastor hummed, tapping a gloved finger against his knee. 

You two sat in silence for a few minutes as you finished off your meal. That week, Alastor had brought you rabbit meat, skinned and raw - just the way you liked it.

Washing your hands clean in the water, you found the courage to raise your voice.  “...can I ask you a question?”

Alastor’s head snapped up, blinking curiously. You had never been the one to initiate a conversation. The most you ever did was answer whatever Alastor asked.  “That depends, what type of question?”

You took your time to pick your words. Not out of fear, but because you were unused to speaking.

“You’re...you’re a hunter, right? I assumed so since you’ve been bringing so much food with you each time.”

He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “Ahh, you’re asking about my occupation .” 

You nodded. Occupation . You’d have to remember that word. 

“Well, I am first, and foremost, a radio host.” At your confused expression, he elaborated. “Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t know what a radio is - I essentially talk and entertain the people of New Orleans!”

Even though you didn’t know what this ‘radio’ was, for some reason, you thought it fit him. “What do you talk about?”

“Many things! The news, weather, random banter, all that jazz. Oh, and I also interview guests we have on or introduce the musicians that play on-air!”

Musicians. Music . Oh, how long had it been since you last heard music. 

“I think I get it.” you settled back in the water, letting the waves drift over your body. “Back home, my birth home, we had this one merfolk who did all the announcements at the main hall or at events.”

You smiled in nostalgia, staring into the water. “I remember his voice. Loud, but warm, he always made the room light up when he smiled.” You looked over at Alastor. “Kind of like you.”

He smiled back at you, the tip of his nose was red from the cold. “That’s very sweet of you, my dear.”

“Deer?”

“ Dear . My dear. It’s - it’s a nickname we humans call each other.”

You scrunched up your nose. Humans and their customs were weird. “What about ‘guppy’? Do humans just go around calling eachother animal names?”

He shook his head, laughing. “Hah, no! I only called you that because of your fish-like appearance.”

“Hey, we’re not part of the fish family. Our ancestors sprouted from amphibians and lizards.”

“How do you explain this then?” he poked at your tail with the end of a stick. You yelped, slapping your tail against the surface, sending water everywhere. Wrapping your arms around the limb, you hugged it close to your body. 

“Leave my tail alone!” you felt blood rush to your face. Touching one’s tail was an intimate gesture, only saved for close family or mates. Though, Alastor wouldn’t have any knowledge of that. 

Alastor put his hands up in surrender, dropping the stick into the water. “My apologies, guppy.”

You let your tail go back to its original position, now swishing in agitation in the water. “You don’t sound very apologetic.”

“I don’t?” He clasped his two hands together and knelt on his hands and knees. “ Please, my liege, forgive me for my sins! From the bottom of my heart I repent to you! My actions are unforgivable, but yet, I humbly ask you for forgiveness! ”

...for some reason, you had a feeling he was toying with you, especially since that smile of his was still plastered onto his face. Nevertheless-

“You are forgiven. This time...But please, drop the ‘my liege’ endearment.”

He unclasped his hands and sat back down properly. “Whatever you wish, my dear.” he laughed, wiping his glasses dry using his coat. 

As the months passed, the two of you settled further into your routine. It didn’t take long before your conversations would stretch for hours, going well past when the sun set over the horizon. More than once would Alastor have to pack up and stumble back home in complete darkness because you’d gotten so caught up talking. 

He sat on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the water, crossed at the ankles. He’d worn a scarf on that day, bright red, circled around his neck. You felt like strangling him with it.

“ Alastor ,” you whined, reaching for a rib he was danginging high above your head. “Stop treating me like I’m your pet.” 

“No,” He leaned back further, smiling mischievously. “Not until you answer my questions.”

“I have been answering your questions!” You shouted. “I’ve been answering them all day!” 

Despite your yelling, Alastor didn’t seem to be phased. He continued to smile - something you noticed he always did - raising an eyebrow. “Then you won’t mind answering another one, would you?”

You sighed, sinking back into the water and laying on your favourite rock. “Fine. What is it?”

“Your name,” he lowered the rib, twirling it in his hand. “ Every time I proposed the question, you always avoided it.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours. “So indulge me - what is it?”

You suddenly let out a few short yaps and growls. Startled, Alastor nearly fell off the dock, dropping the piece of meat. You caught it, and gnawed at it happily. .

“What...was that?” he asked, once he composed himself again.

You held back a laugh. “My name.” 

He blinked at you like a deer-in-headlights. 

You actually laughed, repeating the yapping noise. “I never wanted to tell you because you wouldn’t be able to understand it. 

Alastor blinked at you, a large smile breaking out over his face.

“Good golly,” he laughed, airy and light. “You’re correct. I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

You rolled onto your stomach, crossing your arms over your rock. “Well, it’s not like you’ve ever heard our language before, right?” You tilted your head at him. 

Alastor grinned at you, adjusting his glasses. “No, I suppose not.”

You swam off of you rock, hoisting yourself up on the dock. “Since I answered your questions, I think it’s only fair that I ask you some of mine.” you said, reaching over him to pluck another rib from the container. 

Another thing that had changed since your first encounter had been the types of food Alastor had brought. While he still did mostly bring raw meat, occasionally he’d add spices or different sauces to them. All of which were things you were previously unable to consume - with the different herbs and oils being grown on land. They tasted magnificent, but you didn’t like it when he added things that were salty or acidic to the meat. 

The ribs he brought were coated in a thick, sweet sauce, with rich herbs smeared into the meat. They were succulent.

“Oh?” Alastor leaned back on his hands, watching you stretch across him. He didn’t seem to care how you dripped water all over him. “Go on, then. Ask away.”

“What’s your second occupation?”

“Pardon me?”

After plucking a rack of ribs from the container, you slinked back into the water, resuming your position on your rock. “When I asked you about your job you said, ‘ I am first, and foremost, a radio host’, but you never said what you were second.”

“Did I say that? I can’t remember,” he said in a clipped manner. The change in his tone was subtle, but enough for your ears to pick up on it. 

“Well, I remember,” you tore a chunk off with your fangs. “My kind, unlike yours, have perfect memories. I can remember every conversation I’ve ever had down to the letter.”  

You gazed at him with your eyes, staring into his slitted pupils with your own. “So don’t even try to say it’s not true.” 

His smile faltered, pressing into a thin line. “Fine, then.”

He cleared his throat. “...I am a radio host first...and a hunter, or as they call it, a serial killer, second.”

You placed your meal down, focusing on Alastor’s words. 

“I hunt animals...mostly deer, a squirrel or rabbit when I feel the urge. But my passion lies in another area.” he rubbed his gloved fingers together, watching the blood spread over them. His eyes were glassy, focusing on his hands.  “...Humans.”

You blinked once. Twice. “Oh, ok.”

Alastor visibly stuttered. His eyes snapped to you, brows raised high. “...excuse me?”

“I said ok?”

He blinked furiously, mouth agape. “I’m sorry - you’re not concerned that I hunt humans?”

You shrugged, going back to eating your meal. “Well, you’ve been bringing human meat to me, so it only made sense that you hunt humans.” you stopped once you noticed how Alastor wasn’t moving. “Are you alright? You seem shaken.”

“It’s just...haha,” he ran a hand through his brown locks. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“For what? For me to not freak out?” 

“Yes, it’s simply,” he stared at a point in the water, eyes glazing over again. “Killing and consuming humans is frowned upon, to say the least. By my kind, I’m deemed a ‘bad person’.” 

“Well, my kind used to hunt humans regularly. They were our main source of food.” You said, as if stating that the sky was blue. “I know our species both have different morals and values but for us, hunting to eat is just a matter of survival.”

“Yes, but,” he said, eyes coming up to stare directly into yours. You shivered at his intense gaze, his eyes glinting in the dark. “I hunt for sport, you see. For fun.”

For the first time, you froze in place.  

For fun. You were reminded of the many humans who hunted your kind for fun, who killed them just because they could. 

“Are you ‘freaking out’ now?” he whispered, voice dropped low. “Knowing I’m not a ‘good person?”

You inhaled a shaky breath. “No, I’m not.”

His smile stretched, flashing his sharp canines. “And why is that?”

“Because if the other humans - the ones that find no issue with killing and destroying anything that isn’t their kind - condemn you for giving them a taste of their own medicine, I don’t care if they consider you a ‘bad’ person.” 

You clenched your hands into fists, tail whipping side-to-side with anger. “Had it been someone else who found me, they would have killed me on the spot. Or worse. They could have kept me alive to be in some freak show exhibit, maybe sell me to the highest bidder, do experiments on me - who knows. But you , you haven’t tried to harm me once. That’s why I’m not scared of you, Alastor.” 

Alastor was, for the second time that night, at a loss for words. His eyes brightened, practically glowing with delight, a goofy smile stuck on his face.

“I’ll be,” he whistled. “You never fail to blow away my expectations.”

“Oh, uh,” you spluttered, embarrassed. “Thank you?”

Alastor laid on his side, propping his head up on his hand. He smiled warmly at you, eyes lidded in content. “No, thank you .” 

December 25, 1928

In the early hours of the morning, Alastor came barreling through the forest, scaring you half to death. 

You were out on an early morning hunt, digging up the crustaceans in the mud when you were startled by the sound of his voice. 

“Merry Christmas!” Alastor exclaimed, his shout scaring off a flock of waterfowl in the nearby trees. 

“Alastor,” you swam over to the dock. “What are you doing here? The sun hasn’t even risen?”

Alastor sat down criss-cross on the dock, putting down a large brown sack beside him. “Wishing you a Merry Christmas, obviously!”

“Christmas?” 

“Yes, Christmas!” He flicked his hand around. “December twenty five, the day in which the son of the catholic god was supposedly born by a virgin, thousands of years ago!”

“Oh. That’s...cool?”

“Indeedy! And because of that splendid day,” he rustled around in the bag, producing a large box wrapped with paper and tied with a red ribbon. “This is for you!”

You hoisted yourself onto the dock beside Alastor, hands hovering above the gift. “What is it?”

“A present, silly!”

“Well, thank you. But...why? Because of Christmas?”

“Yes, on this one day, we humans give one special gift to the ones we care about! This one’s for you!”

The ones he cared about. Meaning he cared about you. Your heart fluttered at the implications, your chest warming pleasantly. 

“Shall I open it now?”

“Yes, of course!”

With wet hands, you carefully tore back the layers of colourful wrapping and twine. Alastor watched you intensely, bouncing in his seat like an excited child.You gasped as your gift came to view.

It was a small, rectangle-shaped object, made of wood and polished to a shine. There were little knobs on the front of it, and a small handle on the top of it. 

“What...what is it?”

“This, my dear,” Alastor said, patting the object. “Is a radio! A portable radio to be precise!”

Ah yes, he’d mentioned how he was a radio host in your previous conversation. So that meant he hosted...radios? 

“What does the radio...uh...do?”

“Well, let me show you, shall I?”

Wiping water from the radio, he twisted one of the knobs. At first, nothing but fuzzy crackling came from the speakers, but after a second, an ear-piercing screech emanated from the box.

You pressed your hands to your ears, flinching away from the awful-sounding machine.

“Turn it off!” you cried.

“What’s the matter?” Alastor said, apparently not as disgusted by the sounds coming from the radio. His voice was barely audible over the radio, which sounded like two pieces of metal being rubbed together. 

You dove into the water, swimming as low as you could go. The high wine was muffled underwater, but it was still awful.

Then, suddenly, the sound was cut completely, leaving your ears ringing painfully. You surfaced after a minute of recovery, staying as far away from the radio as you could. 

He looked at you with concern, hands raised above the radio. “Everything alright, darling?”

“Yeah it’s just - it just hurts my ears.” the fins at the side of your face flexed, your hearing popped back in painfully. “Is it always supposed to sound so, uh, annoying?”

His smile had dropped to a small upturn in his lips. “No, it’s supposed to sound divine.”

“Maybe it’s broken?” you suggested. Alastor shook his head. 

“Impossible, it sounded fine when I just turned it on.”

“Maybe it's my ears,” you said, pointing to them. “They’re very sensitive, and pick up on the smallest of sounds underwater.”

“Oh,” Alastor deflated like a balloon. “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to you enjoying it.” He stared at the radio longingly. “You would be able to listen to my show if - nevermind. I never even considered you wouldn’t be able to hear it as humans do.”

“It’s fine, Alastor.” You patted his leg, dampening his pants. “I appreciate your sentiment. I’m actually embarrassed that I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

He gave a small smile. “Don’t worry my dear, spending time with you is a gift in itself!”

You smiled back at him.“ I enjoy spending time with you, too.” 

“Well, now that that’s over with!” he clapped his hands, digging into the bag again. He pulled out large tupperware containers. Your eyes lit up at the sight of food. “I brought breakfast!”

As Alastor cracked open the first container, sending a mouth-watering aroma into your nose, the idea of a gift of Alastor bounced around in your mind. You made a mental note to find something to give to him. 

Alastor stayed with you for the entire morning, exchanging stories over bowls of oyster stew and honey-glazed roasts. You’d never celebrated Christmas before, but you were glad to spend your first with him.

God knew you only had so many left to spend with him. 

Chapter Text

Spring, 1929

Winter thawed out slowly, like molasses running down a pane of glass. It held it’s tight grip on the season to the bitter end, refusing to fade for what felt like forever.

Alas, nothing lasts forever. Especially not the seasons. Eventually, buds popped out of the barren ground, the chirping of birds filled the air, and the swamp regained its vegetation. 

Springtime in New Orleans meant spring cleaning to its residents. Alastor wasn’t exempt from this fact. His visits grew less and less frequent as he was tied up with one thing or another. But he always made it up to you when he visited, bringing you trinkets he found or new dishes for you to try.

Lately, the trinkets he bought were in the form of novels. Your interest in the human language made Alastor bring you some of the books he owned. Whenever he was free from his radio shows or whatever else he had going on in town, he’d visit your usual meeting spot, spending the next few hours pouring over pages with you.  

“Did we have to start on something so difficult?” You groaned, rubbing your eyes and placing the book down on your rock. Alastor was beside you, reading over your shoulder. 

“Oh come now,” he tutted, pulling the novel into his hands. “It isn’t that difficult.”

“It’s 18th-century English.”

“You’ll learn.” he hummed, flipping through the pages to where you left off. “Here, I’ll read and you just listen, ok?”

“Fantastic.” you groaned, laying down on your arms. Alastor pushed his glasses up on his head and began reading.

As he read, you felt yourself become more and more distracted with the story. 

His voice...oh his voice was so smooth. It was like velvet. Smooth and rich, but still harbouring that high flit to it that was like electricity shooting up your spine. 

As he murmured on and on, voice raising and lowering, you felt your eyelids droop.

Alastor paused. “Darling.”

“Hm?”

“Your tail.”

Your eyes shot open. Looking with horror, you saw that yes - your tail was curled around Alastor’s leg. 

“Oh - I’m so sorry!” You quickly detangled yourself from his leg, cheeks heating up furiously as you scooted far away from him. “Sorry. P-please, continue.”

He didn’t seem to mind your sudden...action, and simply picked up where he left off. You were very much awake now, simmering in embarrassment. 

You couldn’t believe it, you had been trying to court Alastor.

Because of the season, usually, your kind would be finding suitable mates, attracting them to reproduce and repopulate before the weather cooled again. 

The scales on a merfolk’s tail would take on a brilliant shine, their fins flaring out in hopes of attracting a suitable partner. Once a suitable one was found, they would wrap their tails around the partner they wanted, claiming them as ‘off-limits’ from the rest of the pack.

You’d been trying to do the same with Alastor. Alastor . Just from listening to his voice, you’d instinctively wanted to claim him as your-

Nope. You refused to think about that any longer. 

Your cheeks burned as you fought off all thoughts of mating and Alastor and mating Alastor, all the while listening to said man drone on. 

Summer, 1929

It was hot. Too hot to do anything good. 

The heat had taken a toll on Alastor. He’d grown lazy. Stagnant. He was laying down on his back on the dock, stipped down to just his shirt and pants. He’d shucked his vest and loosened his tie before he laid down, folding them neatly and using it was a pillow to prop up his head. 

He watched you as you examined his latest gift - a flaky, sweet pastry he’d picked up before coming to the swamp. You held it between two fingers, squeezing and eying it suspiciously. 

“What were these called again?” you asked. 

“Beignets, dear.”  Alastor hummed. He’d also taken his spectacles off, giving you full access to his eyes as he drifted the lines between sleeping and not sleeping. They were a dark maroon today, bright highlights surrounding his pupils. 

“Why are they so...powdery?”

He chuckled. A low, rumbly thing that vibrated from his throat. “That’s what we call icing sugar . It’s very sweet.” 

You took a nibble. Immediately the sweet flavour exploded in your mouth. You swallowed, licking your lips to rid yourself of the after taste. 

It was sweet...too sweet for your palette. 

“I don’t like them.” You laid the treat down on the dock, like a little kid pushing away vegetables, and rinsed your hand in the water. 

“We share the same palate then,” with a flick of his finger, he sent the pastry into the water, where the fish would eat the remains later. “I’m not a fan of sweet things either.”

Personally, you knew your palette was opposed to sweets because of biology. Your species were supposed to be eating raw meats and seafood, not starchy grains or rich sugars. But from what you knew, humans seemed to generally like sweets.

Not Alastor, though. 

“What kinds of food do you like?”

Alastor rolled on his stomach, crossing his arms and looking at you from the corner of his eye. A stray lock of his hair had fallen out, curled over his nose. “Take a guess, sweetheart.” 

“Meats?”

“Yes.”

“And...bitter things?”

He whistled. “Bang-on! What gave it away?”

He was just messing with you at this point. Still, you answered him. “You always drink that gross drink.”

“You mean coffee?”

Your nose wrinkled at the name of the bitter, horrid substance. Alastor had brought it once during the winter, and after taking one sniff of it you’d nearly gagged. The stuff was horrible. 

“Yes,” you said. “I don’t know why you drink it. With how bitter you take it, it can't taste good.”

“Ahh, it’s not for the taste,” he shifted to prop his head up on the palm of his hand, giving you a lopsided, sage-like smile. “It’s for the experience .”

October, 1929

He came to you in a rush, hair disturbed, face sweaty, out of breath. 

“Darling!” He cried, almost toppling into the water with his joy. You looked up from your place of contentment -  enjoying the lazy afternoon by the water - as he approached you,

“Alastor, what is it?”

He grabbed your hands, settling down next to you. “The most wondrous thing in my life, no, in history just happened!”

You’d never seen him this ecstatic before. His eyes were practically glowing and his smile was melting you from the inside out, making your stomach all fuzzy.

His gloved fingers rubbed your own. “Are you aware of something called the stock market?”

You shook your head.

“Well it's a real interesting thing…”

He went on to describe what stocks were, how they operated, how it affected business, people, and a whole lot of other things, most of which went over your head. You nodded, doing your best to follow along when really he’d lost you ten minutes earlier. It was an easy thing to do when you could just stare at his mouth...the way it moved...formed words…

“-and as such, we’ve got one of the worst economic situations in the world right now!”

You snapped out of your daze. “Wait… the worst?”

“Yes!” Alastor said. “People everywhere are going to be affected. Families, children - oh, the children - how many are going to be orphans!”

“Isn’t that...a bad thing?”

“Bad?” He laughed, grinning. “It’s utterly horrible !”

You blinked multiple times. You weren’t an expert on humans but surely, something about Alastor’s reaction wasn’t...normal, right?

“I’m sorry...if it’s a horrible thing...then why…?” You tried again. “If it’s such a bad thing, why are you happy?”

“Because think of all of the excitement this is going to cause!” he whispered to you, pulling your face closer to his. “Don’t you see? This event is going to be affecting the lives of people for the next ten, maybe twenty years! People will lose their jobs, industries will go bankrupt, people won’t have enough food to feed their families. It’s a revolution in our society, a total revamp in the way we live - think of all of the entertainment that can come of this! The world is crashing and burning and we have front row seats to the show!”

You wouldn't believe what he was saying. For a few seconds, you were at a loss for words, horrified.”

“You think that’s exciting?”

“Yes! It’s new and not at all mundane!”

“Even though people are being hurt?”

“That’s precisely why it’s so appealing.”

You gaped at him. You knew from what he’d told you that he did have hobbies that were more on the sadistic side. But his personal hobby of hunting was something you could understand. Your own kind hunted humans, it was just the way life was.

But this...this wasn’t about life, or survival. It was just him 

But because he liked it. That’s what stunned you about it. He liked and basked in pure, uncontrolled chaos. Not for survival, or because he had to, he just liked it. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked, once you were silent for a while. 

You avoided his gaze.  “Nothing.”

Alastor wasn’t convinced. “Are you surprised?”

You hesitated. “A little bit.”

“My dear,” his voice had lowered, losing it’s cheery-tone. (For a second, it actually made you sad.) His hands tightened their grip on yours and his eyes bored into yours, the colour of blood, but darker.  “You should know better by now, than to be surprised by something like that .”

He brought you pieces of human meat. He’d told you how he would be considered ‘bad’ or ‘abnormal’ by his world’s standards. 

Honestly, you should have realized his dark pleasures ran deeper than just hunting. 

The tense mood faded quickly, as Alastor’s euphoria outweighed what little concern he had about your hesitation. 

He continued to blather on and on for the rest of the afternoon. Even when your conversation shifted to something else, he’d always tie it back somehow to the stock market crash. 

And as he went home that night, you were left with a single thought for your brain to chew over. 

Maybe, you wondered, maybe Alastor wasn’t as good of a man as you thought.