#or how now he feels he's supposed to leave Juno and never return to him bc Juno left him in that hotel in Hyperion City | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkedtae · 4 years

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a lover’s howl ⇾ kth. [M]

⟶ inspired by Howl’s Moving Castle and part of The Ghibli Series

⌁ pairing; howl!taehyung x reader (f.)

⌁ genre/rating; studio ghibli au, howl’s moving castle au, smut, a dash of fluff, a bit of angst, 18+

⌁ summary; an unforsaken spell blesses you with his presence again

⌁ word count; 4.1k

⌁ warnings; howl!taehyung, blonde!taehyung, bigdicc!taehyung, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, oral (f. receiving), fingering, body worshipping, basically a moving amount of filth~

⚘ happy birthday juno ♡ (@onherwings)~

⚘ a huge thanks to my beta readers, @kkulmoon, @nottodayjjk and @uhgood-dooghu, for taking the time to read this over and fix it up for me. it means a lot and i don’t think i will ever be able to thank you enough. also a special thanks @yeoldontknow for letting me talk at her, giving me ideas and always supporting me. I owe this fic being finished on time to you.

The rumble of the train trembles the walls of your workshop. Black fumes cloud the moonlight. Your candles flicker atop your desk, threatening to diminish and leave you sewing in the dark. Weaving feathers in and out of a black hat, you’re too preoccupied with thoughts of him to be fazed by the sound. He writes often, enclosing a black feather with every letter, but doesn’t visit as much. You’re not sure what of this “important business” is so dangerous that you can’t come along as well. You have survived much worse, witnessed his near death and helped him rebuild his castle afterall. And though you told yourself countless times that there’s no good dwelling on the past, you can’t seem to stop wondering what exactly changed his mind.

A prick of your thumb stings you out of your thoughts. In a jolt, you drop the needle and hat to shoot out of your seat with a hiss. You lick the wound before it bleeds then press your fingertip upon it. You hope the pressure subsides the wound long enough for you to fetch a bandage from the first aid kit.

Now, where did Taehyung say it was? Something about a library... or was it a living room? You make your way up to the attic, hoping he did in fact mention the library. All you can really remember from that conversation was how handsome he looked in that pink coat you stitched up for him. It just frames his broad shoulder so well only to narrow around his thin waist. And then there was that knowing look in his eyes that told you he knew just how much you weren’t listening at all.

“Baby,” he had whispered, cupping your chin. “Are you listening?” And once you had found the mental capacity to resist the urge to kiss him and slowly nod, he had smirked and repeated, “The kit is in-”

The library flickers to life when you enter. Dust settles upon every inch and you begin to wonder why he had forbade you from entering before as you scan the shelves for the kit. Leather bound books and tightly rolled scrolls reside on every surface. Trinkets of his journey clutter around as well. You had thought you talked to him about the importance of organization, but it seems that he prefers this mess best.

Your attention settles on the desk, sitting in front of a large window. Presuming it’s probably in one of the desk drawers, you make your way over with the intention of rifling through them and nothing more. You’ve learned from past experience that it’s best to never tinker with his things. However, once you stand before it, a red, leather bound book catches your eye. The imprinted title is written in an unreadable script and seems to be floating off the cover. How could that dance off the surface like that? Against your better judgement, curiosity hovers your fingers over the font.

Slamming open, the book flips and flicks through various pages only to suddenly stop. Rose coloured font apperates into view in that unreadable script again. You furrow your brows, attempting to read it anyways, until the strokes of ink shift around the pages. They rearrange themselves into a script you can decipher.

A Lover’s Howl.

Yearning of heart and

Tethers of soul.

I wish to end my misery

And the distance apart

Together unruly and-

The tremors of the train erupt every wall of the attic, pulling you out of your thoughts. Startled, you glance out the window to find that it is not the train at all you owe this rukkus to, but the upset clouds. Flashes of lightning burn the sky alight as rain beats down the busy street.

You turn back to the desk and shut the book. That’s enough snooping for a night. You still have that first aid kit to find. Rummage through the drawers, you finally find a little tin of bandages under a box of rose and emerald ink pots. Teeth between the thin paper, you rip open the little bandage and wrap it around your thumb. However, it seems like once one wound is taken care of, another flames.

Aching, your heart sits heavy in your chest. You take a deep breath, hands too shaky to return the kit back beneath the ink pots. The action seems to push the numb pain to your gut. A little whimper escapes you. You lean on the edge of the desk, inhaling sharply. You’re still breathing, you try to remind yourself. And that should be a comforting fact if your pussy didn’t begin aching as well. With a shaky gasp, you press your thighs together and wonder why the thought of being bent over this very desk seems to be unfathomably appealing right now.

Your fingers hover over the pearl buttons of your dress; it suddenly seems awfully tight in this hot room. Wait- when did the room get so ho- “Agh,” you whine as another pang of pain makes you needier.

The newfound heat suffocates skin, hands moving fast to push that blue dress off your shoulders. It doesn’t hit the ground before you start to discard your bra and panties as well. Still, your body burns with a desire to be overtaken. It’s as if you’ve been edged all day, left half finished and ready to finally unravel. Desperate to feel just that, you slide a hand down to your aching pussy. It clenches emptily, yearning for Taehyung's huge cock. God, it’s been too long since he last stretched you out. Nothing can ever quite compare to his size, your fingers and vibrator a weak excuse for anything besides clitoral pleasure.

Rubbing at your clit, you try to soothe the craving for him now. However, the pain only seems to intensify. It’s as if your body knows it’s not your own hand you crave, but Taehyung’s. And where is he now to graze your folds between his fingers and tease with little praises? You can just see him peeking up from between your legs, tongue poking out of his lips and breath fanning over your heat. And you’d push yourself up into him. So, he’d smirk and chuckle, and tell you to be patient or he won’t do anything at all. You can even hear him now, taunting at your desperate, half-naked state in the very section of the house he told you to never enter.

“What did I say about looking through my things?”

Hand cupping your heat, your attention snaps to the door. Taehyung leans against the doorframe, the candlelight sculpting his features sharply. His name leaves you in a whisper as you begin to wonder how desperate you are to have resorted to hallucinations? Maybe you should really call him if your mind’s gone this far. But, as you attempt to move around the desk, another shot of pain holds you back. You gasp a quiet cry and harshly rub circles around your clit.

Concern colours Taehyung’s features. “Sweetheart,” he calls, rushing over to you. You’re about to pride your mind on such a vivid and accurate imagination when you feel his large hands settle on your arms. Soft and cold, he holds you tight and guides your hunched over frame onto the desk. Shrugging his coat off, he drapes it over your shoulders and asks, “What’ve you done to yourself?”

“You’re here?”

“I’m here,” he smiles.

A breathless chuckle bubbles out of you as your hands wrap around his neck. Your arousal slicked hands stain his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, pulling you into a tighter hug. “You shouldn’t have come in here,” he mutters between peppering little kisses in the crook of your neck.

His vanilla cedar scent coddles your heart and aches your bones. You whimper into his shoulder at how quickly the pain intensifies from a single whiff. Taehyung pulls half an inch away, concerned and confused. With his forehead resting against yours, he licks his lips and you can’t think of a better use for that tongue if not to lick at your pussy. The pain shoots at you again just as your thoughts become interesting. You swallow your whimpers as he brushes your hair out of your face.

His gaze falls to your bare chest before lingering around your pussy. Suddenly aware of your nakedness, you shyly press your thighs together. Every inch of you just wants to beg him for his cock already, no matter if you're bent on his desk or pressed against the window. You just need him on you, in you, touching every part of you.

The courage to ask for what you want finally presents itself when he shifts his gaze to something behind you. You sneak a glance over your shoulder to find that open book. A little sigh escapes him and he returns his attention to you with a little smirk. “You missed me this much,” he teases, caressing your cheek, “that you just had to cast a mating spell, hmm?”

Is that what that was? You weren’t even sure you could read it before it rearranged. You’re about to apologize when the pain cinches your words in your throat. Doubling over, you rest your head against his shoulder and whine, “Ah, Tae!”

He wraps his arms around you, further engulfing you in his scent and you don’t think you can take much more of this. Whatever this mating spell is, you’re sure it’s not supposed to be tearing you apart. Clutching on the collar of his shirt, you mumble, “I need you, Tae. I need your mouth and fingers and- I just need you so bad.”

You wish you can say you hate the way his eyes glisten with power. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he knew exactly how you were feeling and was just waiting for you to say it. He’s told you before that the sight of you so needy always awakes something dark within him. He loves to watch you whine and quiver.

His hold on your face tightens as his fingers dig into your skin. You swallow thickly, another whine escaping from the mere thought of those fingers deep in you. He licks his lips before asking, “What do you need me to do so bad, sweetheart?”

He trails his fingers down your neck, past your collarbone and the valley of your breasts; waiting, watching. When all you can muster is his name in a little mewl, he whispers, peppermint breath fanning over your face, “Do you want to start on your knees?”

“Anything,” you gasp, tugging on his shirt. You just need him close, need him now. “We can do it anyway you want, just please fuck me already.”

Surprise alights his eyes for a moment. Never have you spoken this crassly, without his cock already deep in you that is. He chuckles, on the verge of teasing you about it when another pained whimper escapes you. Taehyung settles his large hands on your thighs. Leaning in, he brushes his nose against yours then places a soft kiss upon the corner of your lips. “I know it hurts, sweetheart, but I can’t do much if you don’t tell me exactly what you want.”

You pause for a moment, wondering how much clearer you could be. Usually, a declaration to be riled is enough to set him off. You’re never the one guiding him as he always insists on guiding you. He says it's because he loves how obedient you suddenly become when his dick is involved. And though you have tried to fight him on it in the past, there’s not much you can deny now. So, you bite back a whine until you have enough strength to order just above a whisper, “I need your mouth, Tae. You’re fingers too. Honestly, anything will do just as long as you're tasting me.”

He bites back a chuckle as he lowers himself to his knees. Spreading your legs, he urges you to lean back a bit. The gesture pushes a variety of books and pens to the floor. Neither of you can be too bothered, however, with his face inches away from your pussy.

Holding your gaze, Taehyung dives in. You expect him to lick a long strip up your pussy to start, as he always does, only to have him suction his lips around your clit. Either way, you’re sure the pain withers away. A relieved gasp echoes in the small room as you throw your head back. You can barely even feel the previous ache when he releases your clit to lap up your wetness. All you can focus on is how you missed his warm tongue.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut. Your hips roll up to meet his tongue, body craving more of him.

“Keep talking to me, baby,” he mutters around a mouthful of pussy. “How fast do you want it?”

You run a hand through his hair and hold on tight. “Fast!” Taehyung groans against you, making your heart flutter enough for you to forget what more you wanted to say. Until a small ache pokes at your gut again. With a whine, you reply, “I need your fingers. I need you to shove them in me and lick me and make me cum. Fuck, Tae, just please make me cum.”

Taehyung circles two fingers around your tight, little hole, muttering, “About time you remembered your manners.”

Not much strength lives in you to tell him that you’ll remember your manners when he finally lets you come along with him to whatever “important business” that’s taken him this long. And even if you could speak, all you can really think about is how you missed his fucking fingers. So long and slender, they slide into you so far and curl just right.The pain dissipates and you throw your head back with a loud moan. You’re not sure what this spell was, but you’re thankful for it if it means bringing Taehyung back home.

You attempt to ride his face again only to have him remove his lips. He smirks up at you, amused gaze peeking through his blonde bangs. His fingers quicken and bash just where you need them.

“Taehyung,” you sigh. Voice breathless, strained with the return of that painful, greedy desire to unravel, you whine, “I need your mouth.”

He chuckles. You shudder. Has he been gone so long that you’ve genuinely forgotten just how much you adored that laugh? You’ve never been able to process the duality of it, the cheerful tone sounding so deep and dark.

“And what do you want me to do about that?”

Oh, right. The spell. It only seems to let him follow your orders. You make a mental note to tease him about it later, the gnawing ache of your gut begging to be eased. Still, under your breath, you mumble, “Must I hold your hand through this?”

Taehyung clenches his jaw. His eyes blink cold, hard and darken into vexation. If he could, he’d smack your pussy, bend you over for a spanking only to edge you thrice before finally letting you cum. At least, that’s what he did the last time you talked back. Instead, he resorts to glares and little reminders to “behave” since “the spell will break before the night is over.”

You shiver with every moan as you sit up. A few more scrolls roll to the ground from the shift of your position, but you pay them no mind. As the thunder roars beyond the little library, you cup Taehyung’s wet smeared chin and guide him back onto his feet.

“All I can ever think about,” you start, attempting to speak through your moans, “is all the time lost not getting fucked in that moving castle.”

“It’s d-”

“Dangerous,” you finish. “More dangerous than a mating spell? Than this stupid libr- fuck, I think I’m close.” You fall forward to rest your head against his shoulders. Taehyung scoffs and you don’t need to glance at his handsome face to know he’s smirking. You can hear it.

Hand shooting to his wrist, you stop his fingers mid-thrust. The spell’s pain lingers around your pussy, tightening your walls around him. It threatens its return as your orgasm slowly disappears. He whispers your name, but you only meet his gaze when you’ve bitten every needy whine back long enough to say, “I just want you to fuck me like you want me.”

“What makes you think I don’t want you?”

A little whine slips past your lips. Taehyung’s expression softens and he shifts in place, likely feeling helpless when you don’t allow him to ease the ache. “You left, Tae,” you sigh. “You left me here. I want you to fuck me like you never did. I want you to replace your fingers with your cock and touch me like you love me.”

Taehyung pauses. “You think I don’t love you?”

Though the answer is on the tip of your tongue, you know better than to tell him it now. Taehyung is no fun to fuck when he’s genuinealy upset. And if you are going to be rid of this unforsaken curse, you know that you’ll need to keep the rest of your thoughts to yourself. So you let go of his wrist and the spell compels his actions once more.

Taehyung removes his fingers then rids himself of his clothes. You can’t seem to keep your hands from wandering over his chest and clutching onto his shoulders. He smiles at you and, though it’s small, that smile of his makes you wonder if perhaps you’ve ruined the entire mood and now he’ll only fuck you because he wants simply to help.

Then he seizes your hips. You’re pulled forward until the length of his cock presses between your folds. He strokes his nose along your cheek, wet lips whispering, “I think the real issue is how you have trouble following orders.” Rolling his hips against yours, Taehyung groans into the crook of your neck. “It looks like I have to show you how it’s done.”

You lose your fingers in his hair, clutching onto his bicep with your other hand. You missed how much he loved to tease. Lips biting into your collarbone, Taehyung reaches a hand between your bodies to align himself. A gentle push in and you’re exchanging praises. He’s definitely been gone too long if you’ve forgotten just how big he is. His mere tip stretches you enough to lose all words, incoherent affirmations taking their place instead. Eyes rolling back, you thrust up to try meeting his hips halfway, but Taehyung grounds you in place.

A specific speed never left your lips and you just now realized that fast is in fact Taehyung’s default setting when it comes to fucking you into submission. All the pain you thought was returning feels as though it never arrived at all. You’re about to tell him to thrust harder when he clutches onto your neck.

He stares into your desperate eyes, his own looking needier than usual - a fact he has never enjoyed admitting. “Do you know how many times I almost used this fucking spell?” he hisses as his thrusts become harsher. “Every night, I stare at that fucking page and think about how pretty you’d look when you’re full of my cock.” He growls a curse under his breath. The hand around your neck tightens just to let go. As it trails down your body to cup one of your bouncing breasts, he groans, “You look even more beautiful when you’re desperate for it. Did you know that?”

You let out a shaky moan. Hands sweaty, you try to maintain your grip on his shoulders as he plays with your body like a passtime. He thumbs your nipple, gazing down at how you arch your back and push yourself further against him. Breathless from the sheer sight, he picks up his pace. The desk scratches at the floor with every thrust. Your moans drown its sharp creaks as Taehyung buries his face between your breasts. Licking and biting, he feasts on you like he never left, like he does this every night and still can’t believe he has you.

Cradling his head closer, you feel that once painful ache in your gut tighten, twist and slowly begin to beg for a chance to release. And you know he can feel you inching closer as well, little praises pouring out of him between his appreciation of your chest.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps. “Taking my cock so well.”

True, you’re annoyed it took a fucking spell to bring him back, but you’d be lying if his insistence of you being such a good girl didn’t just replace all your anger with affection. “Taehyung!” you cry.

You’re about to ask for permission when you recall the fickle detail that you are the one calling the shots this time. Even still, you try to subside your urge to cum long enough to ask, “I-it’s okay to cum, right?”

Taehyung laughs against your skin. He trails quick kisses back up to your lips, only to mutter moments later, much to your constant whining, “You don’t need to ask this time, sweetheart.”

Like being doused with cold water, you allow yourself to come undone. Fingers digging into his skin, eyes rolling back, you scream out his name over and over again with the rhythm of his hips. Every new thrust adds to the quaking of your body. It breaks in your voice as you cry out for him.

“Does that feel better?” he teases, voice husky and strained. If that isn’t enough indication that he’s close, the little twitch of his cock gives it away. “Is my dick enough or do you want me to cum too?”

Nails imprinting into his skin, you try to meet his gaze. “If you don’t cum in me right now,” you start, breathless and desperate, “I swear I’ll cry.”

Taehyung nudges his nose against yours before pressing his lips to yours. He lets you swallow all his moans as he pulls you close by your ass and holds you tight. Then, he bites your lip and fills you until you’re stuffed with more than just his giant cock.

A few more rushed kisses and sloppy thrusts are offered before Taehyung ceases all movement. He rests his head on your shoulder, fingers still sunk into the curves of your ass. Sweaty, heaving exhaustion overwhelms your senses. Pussy pulsing, you find that the longer Taehyung remains in you, the more twinges of that pain return. You know you should tell him that, only you’re worried that he’d go the moment he pulls out. He has served the purpose of the spell after all.

Taehyung stands straighter now that his breath has returned to him. He shifts his hands from your ass to your hips and gently pulls out. A hiss escapes him. You feel empty all over again.

Crossing your legs, you softly push his hands off your hips. It might just be best to make this easier on both of you, you wonder, and give him a chance to go. Maybe that way it won’t feel as though he’s abandoning you.

“I guess you have to get back then,” you say as you hop off the desk.

You both know he can sense your discomfort. “I can stay for a little while.”

Grabbing your dress off the ground, you ignore the emotion in his words. “Lucky me,” you mutter, turning back to find him inches away.

Eyes locked, Taehyung maintains his sincerity. He tentatively wraps his arms around your waist and, when you don’t interject, presses you against his chest. “I’m- I-” he stutters for a moment before the words come together once more. “I thought leaving alone would be the safest. I didn’t think it would take this long.”

You shake your head. He’s missing the point. It shouldn’t take a spell to compel him to return. He shouldn’t have left you alone. “It shouldn’t matter how long it takes. I should always be there.”

Taehyung falls silent. Guilt flashes in his eyes as he reverts them to the floor. Swallowing thickly, he meets your gaze again to mutter, “I just can’t risk losing you again.”

“Then don’t leave me alone,” you whisper.

Taehyung pulls you into a warm hug. A tearful apology is mumbled into your shoulder. You’re not very interested in it though. All you want is him; with or without a lover’s howl.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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misfit-fics · 3 years

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Demon Rehab For Dummies

Summary: (Y/N) started seeing seven demons when she was 10. Through the years they all disappeared, all but one. Namjoon. A demon who has not so creepily, creepily, very creepily been in love with her for years.

Genre: fluff, crack, extremely minimal angst, idiots to lovers, romantic-comedy

Word count: 7384

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of suggestive & kinky themes, a handful of cursing, a story with a plot but not doesn’t exactly have a plot, a stubborn (Y/N) who dismisses love confessions & genuine flirting, an unspoken confession

A/N: Hey! we're back, it's been a while. We're starting school in a while but it will be gamble if we'll be more active or not. Well... we ARE active but just not posting? Yeah, you know what I mean. This has been sitting in our drafts for a while now and we're posting it now... although it's pretty unedited, feel free to address any oopsies. Hope who ever finds this enjoys reading!

At the ripe young age of ten (Y/N) began seeing seven men. Which- would’ve (should’ve) freaked any kid out but you know (Y/N) is just kinda quirky like that so she didn't really mind much. The men were nice and played with her anyway, and the only weird thing was that sometimes they would bring her dead birds.

At age eleven (Y/N) noticed that one of the men was missing.It didn’t affect her much except for the fact that this particular one would help her find things and she’d lost almost all of her socks since he disappeared. Not to mention the increase of bug bites after he left. The darn things seemed like they multiplied exponentially after a month.

By twelve only two of the men had disappeared, at this point (Y/N) not only lived in sandals (she still couldn’t find her socks) but she also couldn’t explain why her hair was burning off every time she tried to straighten it (her lil demon friends didn’t want her to, you’d think after almost 3 years of having men following her around and telling her what to do she’d get with the program already.) Her dog her parents had given her when she was 9 started disappearing quite often after he left. He always came back with a single sock that would disappear the next morning.

By thirteen (Y/N) had developed a crush (more like unhealthy obsession) on one of the men, Namjoon. The third year was also the year when Jimin disappeared, taking all of her favorite shoes with him. That year she had prayed to whoever was listening because her parents really couldn’t afford to keep buying her socks and shoes, and because she definitely couldn’t afford to shave her head.

By fourteen, Hoseok, the man who had cheered her up whenever she needed it, had gone, leaving a tidal wave of bad luck in his wake. He had a great deal in keeping (Y/N) happy, although some of his antics made her want to punch him, it never turned out that way.

When she was fifteen no one left… except for the dog. Aside from that, the only thing that left was her social life (It wasn’t like she had one before but you know it was still a little rough). (Y/N) began to depend more and more on her demons. She had become great friends with the oldest, Seokjin, who cooked for her when her parents went on trips.

At sixteen Yoongi left and the nightmares began. And with the nightmares came the growth of (Y/N)’s relationship with Namjoon. Namjoon became her protector, along with sometimes Seokjin, who still cooked for her and cared for her altogether when she couldn’t.

At seventeen, (Y/N) was informed that when she turned eighteen Seokjin would be leaving, on account that they didn’t need each other anymore. (Y/N) had been torn up when he told her and even more when he left. He didn’t take anything when he left other than a piece of (Y/N)’s heart.

At eighteen, (Y/N) moved away from her parents house with Namjoon trailing behind her (He even had lil demon suitcases and everything,) following her every move.

“I really don’t understand why you had to follow me out of my parents house. I thought spirits are supposed to be attached to a general area…” (Y/N) took to unpacking a box in the small apartment she now lived in.

“(Y/N) how many times do we have to go over this, I'm a demon, DE-MON.” Namjoon clapped his hands with each syllable. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at the self-proclaimed demon.

“Demon, ghost, same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, “same thing as to-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“It is not the same thing!” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) like it was obvious.

(Y/N) snorted, “Okay Casper.” She continued pulling out the items in the box.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted, “CASPER!?” Namjoon put a hand over his chest and widened his eyes. (Y/N) looked up at the demon with a raised brow,

“Geez Casper, why are you so offended? I’ve called you Casper before, Casper.” (Y/N) struggled to keep in her laughter, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “I think I shall simply cease to exist in your realm.”

(Y/N) looked back down at the almost empty box, “You wouldn’t do that, you love me too much, my dearest Casper.” She said in a singsong voice, “Oh hey I found a sock.” She pulled out said sock from the box, it had yellow stripes. :]

“I think Jungkook took the mate to that when he left.” (Y/N) threw the sock at Namjoon with a loud ‘FUCK!’

“I mean we could try and summon him to see if he’ll return your socks.” Namjoon shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even try.” She started putting the random items in their new places.

“You should put Juno on the window sill rather than the coffee table, I mean cacti do need sun.” Namjoon looked at the little green prickle plant.

“I’m sure if i didn’t tell you how to parent your child, it would’ve been confiscated by child protective services.” Namjoon crossed his arms and looked at Juno who had been (rightfully so) moved to the window sill.

“Casper- Juno is a cactus. There is no CPS (Cactus Protective Services).” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with her own arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised, “Now if you could- Can you please go unpack a few boxes?” (Y/N) shooed Namjoon away before her eyes widened and she added in, “NOTHING LABELED FRAGILE!”

“You know if we painted a wall or two in here, it would liven up the place so much…” Namjoon looked around the bland apartment, “Maybe an accent wall over here. A floor lamp over there. A new plant in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt you to give Juno some siblings.”

(Y/N) looked flabbergasted, “You want me to pop out another child?!”

“No I mean-” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“-OUT OF MY WALLET?!? MY BARELY 21 DOLLARS!?” (Y/N) got her wallet out and zipped it open. She shook it in the demon’s face, about 26 pennies, 2 nickels, 1 dime, and a quarter fell out. It was followed by a single, folded, 5 dollar bill.

“I don’t think that’s 21 dollars, (Y/N)” Namjoon looked down at the floor, where one or more of the coins had caught onto his feet.

“I have a gift card.” She pulled out the cheap plastic, silver, $25 visa gift card (that didn’t have 25 dollars) with a bit of a struggle.

“How much exactly is on that gift card (Y/N)?” Namjoon eyed the flimsy silver object.

“You expect me to know- I mean probably more than 10 dollars!” Namjoon raised a brow at the statement. “Okay, maybe about 3.69.” Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. (Y/N) bent down to put the money back into her wallet like a pigeon eating bread crumbs the old lady on the bench threw onto the floor.

Namjoon walked away from the pigeon-girl and grabbed a notepad and pen that was left on the kitchen counter. “We’re making you a to-do list.” He stated, clicking the pen.

“WE haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet.” (Y/N) whined, pointing at the last large box in the middle of the hallway. Namjoon looked to where she pointed and shrugged.

“It says Christmas decorations.”

“EXACTLY! VERY. IMPORTANT.” she clapped her hands in between each word.

“It’s February.” He said.

“It’s still winter.” (Y/N) reasoned, finally done picking up the money. She plopped herself down onto the small brown couch.

“Okay so first off you need a job.” He wrote it down onto the notepad, the pen scratching being overlapped by a loud gasp from the human in the room.

“You dare ignore me?!” She yelled offendedly at the demon who glanced at her before looking back down at what he was writing.

“You also need to go to the supermarket.”

“I told you I barely have any money.”

“Your parents gave you some money.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“And also, you should walk to the school and find a short route to get there.” Namjoon pulled out a literal map.

(Y/N) pouted, “I thought you were gonna walk me to all my classes to deter all the frat boys from coming my way…”

“I did say that,” he confirmed before continuing. “But I mean to get to the actual school grounds.”

“But we have a car.” She had drawnout the ‘but,’ trying to make her point that she didn’t need to walk.

“But you need exercise.” He reasoned, mimicking the way she had said her words.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“(Y/N) i’m not.”

“Yeah you ARE, Casper.”

“Would you PLEASE call me by my actual name for once?”

“Sure thing. Rap Monster.” She teased, the ground started shaking. (Y/N) let out a loud screech looking up at the demon who’s eyes were rolled back. “OH FUCK YOU!”

The shaking died down, Namjoon staring down at the girl who was now underneath the coffee table. “This is why you’re still here!” she cried.

“You want me gone?” Namjoon questioned, offendedly. (Y/N) army crawled her way from her ‘safe spot.’

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” She yelled, returning the offended tone.

“I’m out,” Namjoon pivoted on his heel, walking to the front door robotically.

“Noooo!”

“Will I ever see my socks again?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with hope, “I mean having shoes would be great too though.”

“What’s wrong with living in sandals? Birkenstocks are very comfortable.” Namjoon pivoted around with a candle in his hand.

“It’s winter.” (Y/N) frowned.

“You could always use mine?” He gestured to the shoes at the shoe rack at the front door. The ones that were closed toed…

“Your feet are too big.” (Y/N) looked over at the shoes, then looked down at her own feet, then at the demon.

“Size didn’t matter Last night with your sweaters?”

“That’s different, Namjoon.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Size.” Namjoon smirked.

“Different.” (Y/N) stood confidently.

“You know, you could always just go buy new socks?” Namjoon looked at her oddly.

“I usually wait to get them for Christmas, you should know this by now.”

“Independence.” He stated.

“You’re a hypocrite.” Namjoon let out a ‘huh?’ and (Y/N) continued, “You said independence when you’re dependent on me.”

“That isn’t my fault.” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“It kind of is though…” (Y/N) shrugged, Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off, “I’m literally a rehab center for you.”

“Apparently you’re not a nicely rated one.” Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ve helped 6 other demons, Namjoon. You’re just being difficult.” (Y/N) poked his chest really hard before retracting her hand.

“Ouch,” he put his hand over his heart where she had poked him, “You shouldn’t be saying these things to your client.”

“I didn’t ask to get a client or even BE a rehab center.”

“The reason why you became a rehab center was because you decided that humans were ugly and disgusting.”

“The reason why you ended up with me was because you did something bad and you just now decided to be a good person and it’s not turning out well for you.”

“For your information, I could have left a long time ago.” Namjoon crossed his arms, with an audible exhale from his nose. He stared down at the rehab center.

“And why didn’t you, hm?” (Y/N) crossed her arms also with a raised brow. Namjoon kept quiet, debating how to answer, keeping eye contact as if it was an olympic staring contest.

“You.” He said. (Y/N) snorted, ready to insult the patient. “-would’ve starved to death by now if I hadn’t stayed with you until now.” He finished, (Y/N) gasped, reaching up and hitting Namjoon on the shoulder.

“You. Jerk. Get. Away. From. Me.” She hit him harder every word before waddling away into the hallway from the chuckling demon.

“No problem,” Namjoon disappeared with a veil of sparkles out of view.

(Y/N) thrusted open the door to her new bedroom. Continuing her waddle to the end of the full size bed. Facing the head board, she plopped the top half of her body onto the bed front first. Namjoon reappeared about 6 feet away from her with a loud poof and a burst of sparkles scattering around the room.

“Go away.” (Y/N)’s face was still shoved into the mattress, “Seriously shoo.” (Y/N) lifted her arm off the bed to wave him off.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” Namjoon walked towards the bed hesitantly, scared to get fucking murdered by his prison warden, “Move over. Give me some room.”

“Go sleep in my closet.” (Y/N) flipped the demon off.

“You’d prefer nightmares over your dearest Casper?”

“Yes.” Namjoon sat down on the bed, his knee almost hitting the girl’s head. “I thought I said in the closet.”

“And I prefer the bed.” Namjoon leaned forward and took (Y/N) by her hands and pulled her closer to himself with an annoyed groan from her. She was pulled until her head was laid on his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“I hate you.” (Y/N) grumbled into her demon-pillow.

“I know.”

“You live because I allow it, and that is it to be my flesh pillow.”

“Okay, now sleep.”

“But why do you have to leave?” (Y/N) looked up at her bunk buddy, her chin was impaling the person’s chest.

“I have to. I'm ready to go.” Yoongi looked crestfallen, “They said I could have one more night. But then, when I leave, I can pass on my role.”

“Could you maybe not steal my socks?” (Y/N) pouted at Yoongi who chuckled in response. “This is a genuine request.” She said with slight seriousness in her tone.

“You don’t have any to steal anyways,” he rolled his eyes with an endearing smirk that replaced his dispirited look just seconds before.

“Ok just- don’t go stealing any of my clothing, I need it.” (Y/N) clicked her tongue, not denying the fact that she was sockless.

“I won’t. I don’t need your clothing.” Yoongi shrugged, “I might take your guinea pig though. Meatloaf is cute.”

“YOU wouldn’t DARE take Meatloaf from me.” She glared

“I can and I will.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards the cage that housed Meatloaf. (Y/N) groaned, unlatching an arm that was sandwiched between the bed and Yoongi’s back. She planted her palm smack in the middle of the demon’s face, covering his view of the poor guinea pig.

“No.” She patted his face, Yoongi’s eyes now squeezed shut.

“I can lick your hand.” he threatened, his voice muffled and jumpy from the wacky hand.

“You’re gross,” she moved her hand up, now only covering his eyes and revealing a gummy smile from Yoongi.

“It’s sleep time,” he declared. (Y/N) whined in response, “I’ll be here in the morning to say goodbye one more time okay?”

“Promise?”

“Never said that,” he hummed.

“You jerk,” she groaned, laying her head sideways. Her ear over his heart, engraving the sound into her mind.

Like a cliche love story, (Y/N) woke up to no one but herself on the bed. Through groggy eyes, she could see that poor Meatloaf was gone too.

“I tried to stop him from taking Meatloaf I swear.” Namjoon uncrossed his arms from over his chest when he noticed that (Y/N) was awake.

“Did you really?” (Y/N) sat up in bed.

“I did, I swear,” he said immediately, “I have proof.”

“By proof, do you mean you broke something?” Namjoon took a deep breath figuring out whether or not to say yes or no.

“I… never said that.” He decided on dying, his words drifting off in nervousness.

“So… you did?” She concluded, Namjoon nodded slowly, his eyes down on the floor.

“Yea…” (Y/N) sighed, trying to find anger to cover up a tsunami of sadness that was approaching.

“It’ll be okay. We can summon him every once in a while. Maybe while we’re at it we can try to get your socks back.” Namjoon smiled and hoped it would make her feel better while the reality of things had begun to set in for him. All of the boys loved (Y/N) with all of their hearts but he was the only one willing to stay for the long run.

“I don’t think people want to go back to a rehab center, Namjoon.” (Y/N) let the tears begin to pour.

“(Y/N) it’ll be okay…” Namjoon went over to sit on the bed next to (Y/N), “Seriously we’ll get through this.” Namjoon put a hesitant hand onto (Y/N)’s shoulder and began trying to comfort her.

“I know- I know but-” (Y/N) sniffled, “Hold on, my mascara will run.”

“You’re not wearing any?-” Namjoon raised a brow and looked at (Y/N) like ‘bih-’

“Shush.” (Y/N) shushed Namjoon before shaking off his hand and placing her head on his shoulder.

“You know you can’t prevent me from getting a boyfriend forever.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon before continuing to pack her bag for school.

“I can and I will.” Namjoon slung his own bag over his shoulder. He was definitely a professor.

“You can’t make me be single forever.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and slung her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Your preferences in men are horrible (Y/N), I'm not trying to prevent you from getting a man.” Namjoon said in a matter of fact voice, moving and opening the front door, letting (Y/N) pass through before he walked out behind her.

She scoffed, “maybe you should hook me up with someone, maybe then you can leave rehab.”

“I miss Meatloaf,” Namjoon said solemnly, changing the subject.

“Why do you always change the subject when I bring up my love life?” (Y/N) complained, stomping her foot as they walked down the hallway of the apartment building toward the elevator.

“Do you think Yoongi will respond if we try to summon him?” He ignored the question.

“Hey Joon? Is your dick ribbed? I heard all the demon dicks were ribbed.”

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, putting his feet together and staring down at the human with a face screaming ‘what-the-fuck?’ (Y/N) had a boxy smile on her face, waiting for a response. “Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“A fanfic I read, it was a group called DTS,” she shrugged. “Is it right though?” she leaned forward slightly in high expectations.

“Well-” Namjoon paused, “uhhh…” his eyes darted around. “Mine… isn’t.”

“Damn- that’s really disappointing,” (Y/N) frowned, throwing down an imaginary hat onto the ground and continuing walking with Namjoon following behind her.

“Why is it disappointing? You’re a virgin.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you think I’m a virgin?” (Y/N) looked offended. They stopped in front of the closed silver elevator doors, Namjoon hit the down button before responding.

“You literally had no social life in middle and high school and depended on demons who were attached to you by force in order to not lose your ability to speak in English.” Namjoon raised a finger, “Plus I’ve known you since you were ten and unless it was before that… I would know.” He slipped into the elevator, turning around and walking backwards. A know-it-all smirk plastered on his face while (Y/N) had an annoyed look on her own.

“Can we just- stop before we start arguing about my sex life?” She marched forward into the elevator like a preteen going into their room after an argument with their parents.

“How did you even become a professor?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon confused. “Couldn’t you have just you know… poofed yourself from people’s view when I go to school?”

“I need something to do while you’re in class. I might as well teach asshole frat boys how to do business math amiright.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I mean… you can just be the ghost you are and haunt me n’ stuff?” (Y/N) suggested, “I mean you already do that, Casper.”

“That’s Professor Casper to you.” Namjoon laughed too hard at his own joke.

“Ew,” (Y/N) cringed. “I’d rather call you Daddy Casper.”

“Only in the bedroom.” Namjoon looked at the human.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be private.” (Y/N) stared back at the demon, flipping her hair back. “Wait- are YOU a virgin then?” She asked, bringing back the topic from earlier, but this time about Namjoon.

“Classified.” Namjoon glared.

“So you ARE a virgin?” (Y/N) snorted a laugh, “And you call yourself a demon.”

“Not all demons are incubi or succubi, your demon-racist.” Namjoon accused.

“I am not demon-racist.” (Y/N) looked up at the tall demon, “I’m human.”

“You’re not a human, you’re the personification of the word ‘dumbass.’” He said, poking the proclaimed dumbass on the forehead.

“Rude of you to assume what I am, Casper.” (Y/N) smacked away his hand and pushed Namjoon not so gently on the shoulder.

“Now you’re the hypocrite,” Namjoon glared, “Professor Casper.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Daddy Casper.”

Namjoon frowned, “If you’re so persistent on not calling me Professor, then just Daddy works fine.”

The girl shrugged, “I’d prefer to just call you Daddy Casper, but without the Daddy part.”

“But what if I want to be called Daddy Casper.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as they walked through the gates of the school, the walk soon enough would be coming to an end.

“Woahhhh down bessie.” (Y/N) lifted her hands and moved them in a downward motion, “Save it for the student who’s gonna try to fuck you for their grade.”

Namjoon laughed again, “You say it as if it won’t be you trying to fuck for an A.”

“I don’t get how an idiot like you got a job as a professor.” (Y/N) punched Professor Namjoon on the shoulder who was still laughing at the insult he pulled out his ass against the girl.

“I don’t know how an idiot like you got into college.” Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and then pushed (Y/N) back with a grin on his face. The bell conveniently rang, ending the conversation and forcing the pair to speed their way over to the classrooms.

“You know I saw one of the sorority girls eyeing you, I think we’ve found our fuck-for-a-grade person.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “You wouldn’t fuck her right?”

“I would never fuck one of my students.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Plus I don’t like cheerleaders, I like depressed freshmen who can see demons and that double time as rehab facilities.”

“I am not a rehab facility. I am a struggling freshman.” (Y/N) clapped at Namjoon.

“No you’re not a rehab facility, you’re my rehab facility.” Namjoon smiled cheekily, “And the way I see it you are not a struggling freshman, you live with a professor that helps you with most of your homework.”

“Eh- The one thing you don’t help with is stress relief.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “The least you could do is let me go out and find a boyfriend.”

“You HAVE a boyfriend.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“WHERE? WHO?” (Y/N)’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“HERE! ME!” Namjoon pointed at himself and then widened his eyes.(Y/N) looked at Namjoon with a raised brow, her frantic eyes stopping and looking the demon up and down.

“I didn’t know you had a rental-boyfriend service?” (Y/N) said in genuine shock, “I don’t have any money though so-“

“You don’t have to rent me.” Namjoon scoffed, “I’m right here and I cost no money.”

“I don’t take charity work, sorry.” Namjoon groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“You’re literally the most stubborn person I know.”

“I’m trying to keep my single streak here, thank you very much.”

“Wait so we aren’t dating?”

“You thought we were dating?”

“You didn’t think that?”

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I mean- you never said it-”

“I literally said it seconds ago, (Y/N).”

“Well yeah, seconds ago I guess but I mean before?”

“I literally confessed to you when we were looking for apartments to move out of your parents house.”

“When?-”

“What about this place then?”

“I like it.”

“More than you like me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you questioning my love for you?”

“Bitch, maybe I am.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I be questioning it then, hmm?”

“I’m literally helping you look for a home that we both will move into.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Bitch- If that doesn’t say ‘I LOVE YOU’ I don’t know what does.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe saying ‘I love you’ straight up?”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Nice.”

“Ohhhhhh.” (Y/N) smiled, “You meant that?”

Namjoon looked at her with a blank face. She stared back waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

“So… you do mean it?” She confirmed it herself. The demon nodded slowly, waiting for her to process it.

“(Y/N)? You good?” Namjoon waved a hand in front of her face.

“You know,” she started, finally having rebooted her system. “There’s a lot of things wrong with this relationship. First of all, you’re a demon and I'm a human.”

“Not the first time I've heard of that type of relationship.”

“Secondly, you’re supposed to leave soon considering you’ve delayed it enough. Even using my personified dreamcatcher as compensation to stay longer.”

“I’m pretty sure at this point, they’ve given up on trying to get me back.”

“Third of all, it’s weird that you’ve literally known me since I was ten.” She held up ten fingers, “How old are you again?”

“Not that old for a demon,” he shrugged.

“Exactly. For a demon, thank you for proving my point.” Namjoon went to retort but (Y/N) continued. “Fourth, teacher and student relationships are weird.”

“People roleplay it in the bedroom?” Namjoon shrugged once again.

“Exactly,” she said again.

“It’s technically not weird since you’re not my student though. You’re definitely not a business major so…” Namjoon weighed the pros and cons of being caught with a student even if said student isn’t even one of his.

“I’m an English Major- BUT that’s besides the point. You’ve still known me since I was ten.” (Y/N) poked Namjoon’s chest.

“Hey it’s not like I was creeping on you when you were a kid…” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“No you just started creeping on me when I was around sixteen.”

“It’s more acceptable than pedophiles!”

“You’re like three hundred!” She exclaimed, she threw her hands above her head to

“Add about seven-hundred years to that.” Namjoon added with slight hesitation.

(Y/N) stood there, mouth agape, trying to do the mental math.

“You’re one-thousand?!”

“Give or take some.”

“I- I’m going to remove myself from this situation.” (Y/N) walked away.

[:] I ran out of image things, so we get text from now on. [:]

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the closet.” Namjoon voiced his thoughts as he was grading papers one night.

“You don’t have to sleep in the closet.” (Y/N) looked at the demon from across the kitchen table.

“The closet is comfortable.” Namjoon shrugged before voicing his concerns about the student’s work, “I’m pretty sure this student is gonna try to suck my dick for an A. This work sucks ass. How did she even get x=34? The answer is x=0!”

“I’m bad at math, don't look at me.” (Y/N) jotted a note down on her work before closing her notebook.

“But anyway- Back on track. Why do you want to start sleeping in the closet?” (Y/N) raised a questioning brow.

“Because the bed is awkward now.” Namjoon sighed before writing a bold ‘10/35’ down on the paper and circling it. (Y/N) glanced over at the paper that was marked red at every inch of it.

“You should put ‘see me after class’ on it. Maybe she’ll suck your non-ribbed demon dick.” (Y/N) suggests as she puts away her notebook. Namjoon’s fist hit the table in annoyance with a loud sigh that definitely said ‘i’m not getting some dumb bitch to suck my dick.’ The girl snorted, “Geez, no need to be so rough on the table.”

“Stop bringing up my non-ribbed demon dick.” Namjoon glared across the table.

“You admit that it’s not ribbed? That’s rough, man.” (Y/N) sighed sympathetically. “Some people are into that, you know.” Namjoon facepalmed, a bit too harshly, a loud smack echoing in the cramped apartment. “No need to be so rough, Casper.”

“You’d probably like it rough, and why the hell are you so bent on the fact that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon glared, moving onto the next student’s paper.

“We’ve taken the god damn BDSM test together, Casper. You KNOW I'd like it rough.” (Y/N) said in a smart-ass tone, knowing for a fact that they’ve done the test before.

“That shit lies,” Namjoon declared, “I’m not a bottom.”

“We know sweetie, we know. The test did you dirty.” (Y/N) weighed her options before ultimately deciding not to cross the room to comfort her demon. “But you know, the test DID have some direct questions-”

“You mean like the golden showers?”

“Ew, why would you even bring that up.”

“You said ‘direct questions.'” Namjoon shrugged.

“That question was traumatic.” (Y/N) shuddered, “But anyway, You can keep sleeping in the bed. It’s only awkward for you. Plus you can’t even be a demon dreamcatcher from a closet.”

“I can and I will. Now go get ready for bed. I'll join you in a bit. I have to email the kids' advisor.”

[:] Oh wow, another spliter [:]

“What’s awkward about this?” (Y/N) asked, ignorant to the fact that it was very awkward. Her legs were wrapped around the demon’s waist, who was laying down as straight as a log uncomfortably.

“Everything is uncomfortable.” Namjoon tried to push (Y/N) off of him.

“This is where you’re wrong,” (Y/N) states. “Your chesticles are very comfortable.” She furthered her point, by moving her head and weirdly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“(Y/N) get off of me.” Namjoon was now really uncomfortable.

“No.” (Y/N) pulled Namjoon’s log-body closer.

“Please?” Namjoon wiggled some more, “Seriously (Y/N) get off.”

“No…” (Y/N) held Namjoon tighter, “Imma go sleep now.”

“Ok (Y/N).” With that Namjoon pushed (Y/N) up and off of him and climbed out of bed and into the closet.

(Y/N) whined, “Nooooooo!” She looked at the closet through her eyebrows. “Are you hiding something from me?” She accused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon opened the closet door a bit.

“Oh my god- are you a closet gay?” She gasped loudly.

“WHAT?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) from the crack in the doorway.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to use a fake confession to hide it from me.” She comforted the demon, “I will support you 1000 percent.”

“I’M NOT GAY!” Namjoon wiggled around in the closet before emerging from the space.

“Okay okay- but just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, Casper. Closeted or not.” She hummed, her words being muffled as she slowly put her face into the mattress.

“It’s been awkward since you basically called me a cradle robber, you stubborn piece of shit.” Namjoon blushed at his confession.

“I thought you didn’t care about that earlier.” (Y/N) looked back up, taking a deep breath of air after almost suffocating herself.

“Well I did.” Namjoon huffed out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well that sucks,” (Y/N) said blandly, “I was thinking of saying I love you.”

“The fuck- wait,” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Night night.”

[:] Cockadoodle-Doo it's morning [:]

The next morning came around quickly for (Y/N), though I wouldn’t say the same for Namjoon. Having him overthinking the “postponed” love confession from (Y/N). Meanwhile, though the night was quick, the morning dragged the girl by the toilet paper stuck at the bottom of her shoe.

Frown plastered on her face, seemingly deep in thought. She was unmoving in her seat aside from her wrist moving to stir the half eaten cereal in front of her. Namjoon sat across from her, “You can stop thinking, you’re going to hurt your head.”

The insult snapped the girl out of her concentration, she looked up and clicked her tongue. “I was just thinking about you. You want me to stop doing that?”

Namjoon raised a brow, “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“I was wondering if we could summon the boys,” (Y/N) smiled before continuing, “Maybe get my socks back…”

“Are you saying you’d enjoy the company of your socks more than you with me?” Namjoon asked rhetorically with a shocked expression. (Y/N) gagged and rolled her eyes.

“Namjoon…” she said with a honey coated tone. “Are you saying you don’t know that I know you’ve used MY socks before?” The accused had a shocked look on his face that looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.

(Y/N) started snickering, amused by the demon’s expression. “As if I'd use your cheap ass yellow striped socks,” Namjoon aimed his nose at the ceiling. The girl laughed harder, finding the insult to her socks a bit too amusing.

“Okay, back on topic,” she said in between giggles, “We’ll get back to this later.” Namjoon shook his head, unamused unlike the person across from him.

The offended sock insulter cleared his throat, “We should have enough time before we need to go to the school to summon one of them.” He said in a factual voice, (Y/N) nodded as she took a glance at the time that read 7:23 am.

“What did we need again?” She got up from the stool she sat on, abandoning the poor soggy cereal. Namjoon got up also with a hum of thought.

“Candles and a lighter are the main things, obviously,” He says. (Y/N) nodded going into one of the kitchen cabinets for the items. “And if we’re summoning all of them, we’d need offerings…” Namjoon drifted off.

(Y/N) put down the candles onto the marble counter and looked at Namjoon questionably, “So… we need another hamster and dog?” This made the demon pause before nodding slowly, the situation becoming a bit more difficult than it needed to be now.

“And then what about Hobi? What he took wasn’t exactly… a physical object?” She also put it into consideration and clicked her tongue. “I’m still mad at you for sacrificing my literal source of happiness and good luck for yourself.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I thought we were past this!” He threw his hands up in the air, (Y/N) flipping him off simultaneously.

“Maybe you were,” she sassed, pointing fingers with a half assed glare.

“Technically, it wasn’t a sacrifice, (Y/N).” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well-” She was cut off by the demon.

“Nuh uh, It was just him choosing to leave and wanting to stay,” he snapped, not in a harsh way though.

“But-”

“You know what, let’s just try and summon them another day. I don’t think it’d work anyways.” Namjoon said, dismissing the topic by waving his hand, taking a glance at the tree outside.

[:] Wooshy flash back time I guess [:]

“Why are you still here?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “I mean weren’t you supposed to leave this year?”

“I was supposed to leave instead of Hobi last year. I asked to stay.” Namjoon was sitting nonchalantly in one of the lounge chairs in her parents' living room reading the book she was supposed to be reading for school.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?” (Y/N) looked at the demon, a look of confusion evident on her features.

“Who else is supposed to write your book reports for school?” Namjoon smirked while holding up the book before going back to reading said book.

“Then why did Hobi leave? Did he not want to be attached anymore?” (Y/N) began to tear up.

“It’s not that. I asked to stay because I felt I wasn’t ready to leave yet and Hoseok felt he was ready to leave. Most of the time, we leave when our time comes (Y/N). Hobi and mine were at the same time and I wanted to stay so I stayed.” Namjoon smiled at (Y/N).

“But why didn’t Hobi want to stay?” (Y/N)’s tears were flowing freely at this point.

“(Y/N)! Are you crying?” (Y/N)’s mom came rushing downstairs to investigate why her only child was crying.

“I’m fine.” Even (Y/N) wasn’t convincing herself, “Really Mom, I’m just over exhausted. I’m gonna go up to my room.”

[:] And back to the present :) [:]

“Are you almost ready to go?” Namjoon popped his head into the bedroom, “We have to leave soon if you want to be on time for school.”

“I’m almost ready, relax. And don’t you have a class to teach and a non-ribbed dick to get sucked by that one bitch for an A?” (Y/N) scoffed from where she was printing an essay that Namjoon had written the night before.

Namjoon started counting down from five, “Five- You better fucking get your ass in gear or you’re gonna be late. Four- Seriously (Y/N). Three- Professor Howard can’t give you another pass just because he likes you. Two-” Namjoon got cut off by (Y/N).

“I’m ready, asshole.” (Y/N) looked at him, “You better not let that bitch Brianna suck your dick.”

“I won’t let her suck my dick!” Namjoon raised his hands in defense, “What about my toes though?” (Y/N) looked at the demon with a face of disgust and looked at him from head to toe.

“Are you Namjoon or Taehyung?” She squinted, looking at his face.

“It was a joke!” Namjoon smirked, “But I'm sure she’ll do it for an A anyway.”

“I’m done with this conversation Casper.” With that (Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder and left.

“Hey wait!” Namjoon grabbed his own bag before speed walking after (Y/N).

[:] Professor Casper or Daddy Casper? [:]

“SO.” (Y/N) sat down across from Namjoon in his office, “Rumour has it that you’re dating a cute english-lit major and are up for evaluation. What say you in your defense?”

“I mean I am dating a cute english-lit major. But I’m not up for evaluation, I used my demon charms to get out the punishment.”

Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“Did you actually?” (Y/N) gaped at Namjoon.

“No. I explained that dating you is punishment enough.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples popping.

“Bastard.” (Y/N)looked at Namjoon.

“Bitch.” Namjoon smirked at (Y/N) before leaning over the desk and kissing her on the forehead, “I love you.”

“Good.” (Y/N) blushed.

There, through the window of the office, there were 6 peeping toms watching the couple.

“Adadada-uda,” Taehyung stuttered, “THEY’RE SO CUTE!”

“This looks like it’d turn out like a straight porn video on the hub,” Yoongi says bluntly.

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, “Ew straight.”

“Moving on,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “Does anyone remember when (Y/N) said I love you back?”

A series of “No’s” could be heard.

“Maybe we weren’t watching!” Jimin raised his hands, “But when were we not watching?”

“Oh I know!” Hoseok interrupted, “When they split up because of classes earlier. We left Yoongi hyung in charge just in case something happened.”

“I took a nap and must've missed it.” The guilty demon shrugged.

“No, (Y/N) definitely isn’t someone who confesses straight up.” Seokjin said, stroking his chin. The rest nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's why she didn’t have a man when we were still there.” Jungkook snorted.

“No JK, we all know the reason why (Y/N) was always single. Was because she was pining after Namjoon.” Jimin stated the obvious.

[:] Damn. Imagine having someone to kiss in public. Or at all. [:]

“So how do you reckon the staff caught onto us… I mean PDA really isn’t our thing.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone!” (Y/N) frowned, “Maybe someone saw us go home together? I bet it was that bitch Brianna. She gives off the stalker vibes.”

“I’m not gonna let her suck my dick.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “And she’s already failing my class so even if I did let her suck my non-ribbed punisher, she still would probably only have a D-.”

“Hey- I thought we stopped referring to your dick as non-ribbed.” Namjoon raised a brow, making a face that said ‘you’re-the-one-who-started-it.’

Reading his expression (Y/N) glared at the demon, “Technically you’re the one who started it because you freely admitted it freely.”

“What makes you find out the hard way that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) suggestively before flopping namtiddie first into the couch.

“I think I would've preferred finding out the hard way.” (Y/N) flopping onto Namjoon’s hard back.

“So I can’t even have the couch to myself?” Namjoon groaned before realizing what (Y/N) meant by ‘finding out the hard way,’ “Are you saying you rather had found out in the heat of the moment after having prepared yourself for a ribbed demon dick?” Namjoon leaned his head up to bump (Y/N) who still had her fat ass on his back, “I can’t breathe, get off.”

(Y/N) rolled off of Namjoon before plopping herself down in front of Namjoon, “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

[:] Smh stalkers at every moment [:]

“And I got a big fat ass!” (Y/N) shook her ass while singing off-key.

“Your ass is everything but big, baby.” Namjoon passed (Y/N) to reach for the garlic from the spice cabinet.

The girl turned and looked at Namjoon with an offended look, “You know. As my rental boyfriend, you’re supposed to be nice.”

Garlic forgot, Namjoon turned to (Y/n) and grabbed her waist, “I’m not your rental boyfriend and you know that.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Okay go off I guess, not my rental boyfriend.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes before pushing Namjoon away.

“Woman,” Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

(Y/N) turned around and smiled at her demon, “I could argue that you’re the one that wounds me.”

“I do not wound you.” Namjoon scoffs, “But I could very well wound you if you keep saying i’m a rental boyfriend, love.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to wound me now would we,” (Y/N) smiled up at Namjoon before leaning in and placing a quick peck to his lips, “I love you.”

Namjoon smiled before returning (Y/N)’s peck with a chaste kiss, “I love you too, baby.”

*Meanwhile from the dining room 6 men were watching from not so afar*

“Hyung! Hyung! Did you see that!” Jungkook excitedly pointed towards the couple in the kitchen.

Yoongi groaned, “See what?”

“Le gasp! How could you have missed that!” Taehyung held a hand over his heart, “(Y/N) initiated affection for once!”

Jin smiled, “It really was adorable.”

[:] Oh look, you're at the end. [:]

“Every kiss begins with consent.” Namjoon wiggled his shoulders while grading papers at the table.

(Y/N) smirked before leaning over the table and planting a large whet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Rude.” Namjoon scoffed before pulling (Y/N) in for a proper kiss.

“You know that kiss didn’t have much of my consent in it.” (Y/N) smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t think I consented to that either though.” Namjoon smiled.

“Get back to work baby.” (Y/N) nudged Namjoon towards his pile of papers.

“Yeah yeah.” Namjoon smiled before looking down and putting a big red ‘F’ on a paper clearly marked Brianna Simms.

“When will she just drop the class?” (Y/N) chuckled, “Dumbass.”

do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. :]

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infernwetrust · 3 years

Text

Eden’s Prodigal Son Part 4- Know No Better [Andy Dolan x Reader]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You weren’t sure what kept you coming back to Andy Dolan. All you knew was that you kept coming back. And it only got worse before it got better.

Warnings: swearing, little bit o’ violence , drug use, fluff, angst, mentions of pregnancy

WC: 2.0k

A/N: Unlike the previous parts, the next couple of parts for Eden’s Prodigal Son will take place in the present with a few significant flashbacks. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by kissxmedeadly

It never rained much in Eden. But when it did, it poured. Andy sat on the edge of the bed in his home, suitcases packed for yet another few months in LA. Except this time, he would have nothing to look forward to upon his return. Why? Because you were completely done with Andy Dolan. And he knew that.

His ears were ringing, his heart left his chest and went back and forth between his throat and his stomach. How could he be so fucking stupid? His eyes continuously scanned over the last text message that you sent to him and it burned him every single time. How could he?

I hope you have fun with her.

How could he have fun with her? He didn't want her as much as he wanted you. Anyone with eyes could see how obsessed Andy was with you, but he was so fucking stupid. Fear of commitment maybe? Maybe that's what did it? What was suppose to be just a fling from time to time while he was in LA, turned into something more. Something he didn't want. And now he was stuck. And now he's going through the headlines that exposed him.

"Fuck!" He shouted, abruptly rising to his feet and throwing his phone against the wall with all his force. He watched as it shattered into tiny fragments and he was thankful that he reminded to back his phone up the night before. He needed a new phone anyways. For a few moments he finally felt at peace, not being able to impulse look at things.

"Everything alright, mate?" Ben questioned as he barged into the room upon hearing Andy's scream. He looked back and forth between Andy and his broken phone and he immediately knew.

"I need a few of those." Andy stated simply, referring to the bag of green pills that he had in his hand, specifically for Andy, by his request. Ben knew better to try and argue with him when he was in such a state. He obliged, opening the bag and pouring 2 onto Andy's hand. He'd never leave him with the whole bag. And like usual, this was how Andy coped. "Are we leaving now?"

"Yeah.. yeah."

*** "Are you sure you don't want to see-," Hedwig began, but you quickly gave her your answer. No. You did not want to see Andy Dolan one last time despite the intense history. You never thought that you could be this broken, but here you were. You clung to his hoodie that he had left at your place, like your life depended on it. Tears fell heavily from your eyes as you laid your head in Hedwig's lap, the two of you on the couch.

"You told me you fucking loved me!" You screamed at Andy, your fists pounding into his chest, tears steaming down your face, ruining your makeup.

"I do fucking love you, Y/N!" He grabbed your wrists in an attempt to slow you down, but you weren't having it. You managed to snatch one of your wrists from his relatively strong grip, returning a swift and sharp smack to his face.

"Love me enough to get someone else pregnant?!"

"I think I'm going to be sick." Your legs couldn't carry you to your bathroom fast enough. There were too many memories of him, everywhere. You kicked him out of your home so fast that night, he didn't have time to grab anything. You turned your sink, splashing your face with the cooling water. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"It was a fucking mistake!" That's all he could say. Because it was. One drunk and sloppy hookup turned into an unexpected pregnancy for both Andy and his party.

"A fucking huge mistake, Andy Dolan! You have a fucking one year old and we've been together for 6 months and I find out through a news article. For fuck sakes Andy, you didn't think this one out did you?"

"I was going to tell you.." He mumbled, knowing how bad he fucked up.

"Fucking tell me?! It's been a year, Andy!" You shoved him back, watching him stumble to stay on his feet. "I gave you everything."

The tears fell faster than you could catch them and decided that trying to wash them away was a waste of your time.

I hope you have fun with her.

The last text message that you sent to Andy a week ago. He texted you several times after that, almost every day for the next week until you had to put him on do not disturb. That's the thing about Andy. And the thing about you too. He was never able to leave you alone and you the same.

Y/N please talk to me. I miss you. I love you... please. It was a mistake. I fucked up. I know. I should of told you, but I was scared. I'm not even ready to be a fucking father. This was before we even got together and I know a lot of things were said and were done, but we're all human, yeah? Please just talk to me, Y/N. I don't want lose you over this. I know it's a pretty big deal, but I'm not hiding anything else. I promise. I'm sorry...

He tried to call you a few times as well, but God knows why he would try to do that. Eventually he just started calling to hear your voicemail, anything, that could keep him closer to you. You caught yourself going through your camera roll one too many times, reliving all the memories.

You should of known. Andy was way too popular, way too good-looking to just settle down. You should of known. Right? Maybe you should of just stayed friends, but like a fool you fell for it. And fell for it. And fell for it. And now it's killing you.

"Y/N..." Hedwig's soft voice spoke from behind the door as you walked out of your bathroom, a sobbing mess. "Can I come in?" God bless her, huh? What would you do without your dear Hedwig? She was always in the middle of you and Andy. She was there for every small moment, every big moment, every argument. She was your rock and you were hers. You opened the door for her, still not able to control all of your sobbing.

In the distance you could hear small chatter. You forgot that tonight you had invited every one over for yet another small get together. But, you didn't know that you would be like this when the time came.

"C' mere." She spoke, engulfing you into her arms, letting you cry it out.

"I love him." You sobbed. "So fucking much."

"I know." Hedwig held you tighter. "He'll regret it. Andy. He's... fuck.." She knew what she wanted to say and although it was true, she could never bad mouth another friend. Burying your face in the crook of her neck, you screamed, letting some amount of stress leave your body for the night.

"I'm so-,"

"No. You're not. You're in love. It's okay to be in love. This is your first heart break. And it won't be your last, especially dealing with Andy Dolan, but the two of you just need some serious time apart." Hedwig cupped both sides of your face in her hand, making you look at her. She pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling you back into a hug. "He'll realize how much of a gem he let slip through his fingers. But you have us. And I know we're no Andy, but we love you just as much."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

*** "Jesus Christ, mate." Ben growled, aggravated with Andy's intoxication as they traveled through airport security. "The no-fly list suits you well right about now, doesn't it?"

"Fuck off, yeah?" Andy chuckled, running his hands through his hair as he clumsily put his things in a bin to go through the scanner, nearly knocking the stack next to him over. Ben sighed, furrowing his eyebrows and he got his things together as well. This was the first time airport security scanned two people in the body scanner at once, Ben having to physically hold Andy in the position they requested. Embarrassed, they couldn't leave the area fast enough to start walking towards their gate.

"You fucking listen to me. And you listen to me good, aye." Ben spoke, abruptly dragging Andy into a nearby family bathroom, locking the door behind him. He slammed Andy up against the bathroom wall, spraying the water bottle he was carrying in his hand all over his face. "Wake the fuck up, okay?" He slapped him around a few times, Andy not sober enough to even attempt to fight back. And even if he wanted to, he deserved this. "Wake the fuck up, Andy Dolan." Andy choked slightly on the water that managed to get into his mouth, spitting it back up and coughing.

"Fu-,"

"Fuck off. I know, hm?" Ben opened another water bottle, spraying it on him as well. "You want to know the one thing you're good at? Driving people the fuck away.." Ben held Andy by his now soaking shirt, glaring into his eyes that screamed nothing but pain, regret, anger, and sadness. "Everything you have now, Dolan. I HELPED YOU GET. It's not just about you okay, dick head? As your agent this is MY life too and you are on track to fucking ruin it."

Andy was silent and in a daze. The bathroom was spinning and he swore he was looking at Ben 4 times, but all the words were registering. Ben was right for the most part. Andy was good at driving people away. People that weren't you, but now look, it is you. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes and he could feel his throat swell with sorrow.

"Your public image matters. Remember that. And for fuck sakes, mate. You don't fucking need her." Ben continued. "You're a fucking superstar. You can have any one you want. Mad at you because you got some irrelevant broad pregnant and the two of you weren't even together?"

"Stop.." Andy growled.

"No. I'm not going to fucking stop. She's done nothing, but distract you. That's all she has ever always done. I'm sure she's had her fair share while you were away. Did you ever think about that? She just got lucky to not get knocked up by the next bloke, huh? People make mistakes. You need to get over it. And she needs to get over it. You have a fucking full career ahead of you."

He let Andy go, rummaging through his bag for a new shirt for him to match the current style of his outfit. When he got re-dressed, his administered eye drops for the now teary-eyed man whose eyes were covered in red streaks. When the opportunity presented itself, they finally made their way to their gate, no conversation between the two of them until they would land in LA.

*** "We should get married y'know." You suggested to Andy, snatching his attention away from the joint that he was rolling.

"I'm sorry.." He chuckled. "But what? We should what? Y/N we're 16."

"Hear me out first, silly." You giggled at your idea.

"Okay, crazy. I'm listening."

"We only get married if we can't find the one. Someone has to be responsible for me when I die. And and. There are some pretty good benefits to being married." Andy glanced back and forth between you and his joint before he busted out laughing. "You're laughing, but it's such a good idea!"

"You really are crazy, you know that?" He handed you the joint and the lighter, always letting you have the first pull now that the two of you started smoking together. "But of course, Y/N. As long as we don't find the one. I will marry you so that someone will be responsible for us when we die. And for the benefits."

"I knew you'd understand."

But you are the one.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @9layerdevilfoodcake @ferndolan @dorklydefined @littledemondani @king-with-no-crovvn @chicaluna2410 @waitinvain

#andy dolan #andy dolan x reader #andy dolan imagine #eden #eden’s prodigal son #cody fern

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alexandenigtscreations · 3 years

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Chapters: ½ Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen and up Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Poisoning, Poison, Heist gone wrong, Peter Nureyev has ADHD, Rita defiantly has ADHD, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, TPP, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe Summary:

After Nureyev get’s poisoned on a mission, he’s determined to see it to it’s completion. He and Juno make quite the team after all. Had many thoughts after reading @kaiserkorresponds 's fic ---> [The Celestial's Kiss https://archiveofourown.org/works/31409258 ]. Which apparently has been spinning round and round my head. I do love a good poisioning <3</p>

Chapter 1:

It should have been obvious from the moment the drink hit his lips. The sour bitterness that the burn of poor quality alcohol failed to mask. It should have been obvious. But focused as he was on keeping a straight face; Nureyev found himself swallowing the vial fluid before he could begin to think better of it. He paused, eyes flicking down to the odd shimmer he’d mistaken for ice melt.

That- wasn’t ideal-

He filed deeper thoughts on the subject away in favor of assessing for further threats. The facility crawled with them, from the myriad of security cameras to their flamboyantly garbed host. They were watching a little too closely, a little too carefully. A smile playing across their garish lips.

Nureyev sat back, glancing over at his goddess. A vision in the scarlet A-cut dress. There was a slit running up his thigh, revealing quite a bit of leg and a hint of a holster.

Juno’s own drink, served neat, bore the same tell-tale signs of tampering. The Detective swirled it about his glass, clearly about to throw it back in his usual no nonsense fashion.

That would not due.

With all the coolness Nureyev could muster, he placed a gentle hand over Juno’s cup. His Detective tensed, sending a soft, questioning gaze his way.

“Not very hospitable, spiking a Lady’s drink.”

“What?” Juno pulled back, guard up.

Nureyev’s fingers curled around the glass, taking a moment to weigh his options. He had half a mind to fling it’s contents into the eyes of Jody, the large thuggish man directly across the table. He might even have time to incapacitate Mx. Balsa and get Juno to cover him before reinforcements came. They might even make it out in one piece-

It was tempting, but ultimately would get them nowhere.

They were on a job, after all. If there was any chance of salvaging the situation, that should be their first option. One little computer virus, how hard could it be to plant?

He took the glasses and poured their contents on the floor, the ice shattered on impact.

Mx. Balsa smiled. “Very good Mr. Tillerson. It seems you passed our test.”

“A test. We came to have a civilized discussion, Mx. Balsa.” Nureyev said pointedly, he could still feel the burn of the alcohol in his throat “Not play childish games.”

Mx. Balsa shrugged their narrow shoulders “Childish or no, it’s effective. We don’t let just anyone play with us. I’m sure you understand.”

“Understand?” Juno bristled, “Understand my boot! You try to pull something like that-”

Juno came up short when Nureyev squeezed his thigh; nodding his head graciously, “Naturally. Now are there any other- tests- we should be made aware of or are we free to get down to business.”

Was he imagining it? Or was his stomach already souring?

File it away-

“Down to business!” Juno blurted, “They offered us a spiked cocktail and you want to get back to business?” he sat back, crossing arms over his chest “I say no way. The only people that I know of who spike drinks are scoundrels and cheats. How are we supposed to take them at their word?” At some point the moral outrage in his voice changed into a conversational tone.

Nureyev could have kissed him, if it weren’t for their cover- “My colleague has a point. You’ve tested us, it seems only fair that we should test you.” he gave his best smile, “Perhaps a sample of your information for our technicians to verify.”

“I hardly believe that to be necessary-” said Mx. Balsa. Nureyev knew that they were the sort of person that relied heavily on their reputation. But deals weren’t made on reputation alone.

“Oh? But I do. Unless you are unable to deliver what we discussed?” Nureyev stared into their pale eyes. They didn’t flinch. He waited a beat, then two and still nothing. He stood with a heavy sigh “I believe our business here has concluded then. Mr. Micah.” He offered a hand to Juno, who accepted it.

“Sure Tillerson.”

The pair made to leave. Jody, Mx. Balsa’s companion moved to intercept. Which was effective both for the fact he was so broad of shoulder as to eclipse the door behind him and so tall that even Nureyev felt as though he had to peer up into his face.

Instinctively, Nureyev moved in front of Juno. It was ridiculous, a man that large simply should not be allowed.

“Like I said, there is no need to leave.” Mx. Balsa’s tone did not change, but there was a weight to it now, a tension.

“And why should we stay?” Juno crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

They surveyed him for a moment. “If it’s information you want, it’s information you will have.” They slid a chip into their comms and made a fuss of downloading a sample. It chirped upon completion and they offered it up with a flourish. “Please, a sample, if you will.”

Nureyev’s eyes flicked from the chip to their host and back. He smiled, accepting it in a cocky, gracious manor that was felt exclusively by his alias.

“Very well, I’ll have our team verify this information. If you would excuse me.” Jody made an intercept but this time Mx. Balsa intervened. A small shake of their head, jewels shimmering in the light. That was a relief. With a nod to Juno, Nureyev slipped out the doors and made a beeline towards the restroom even as he sent the data to Rita.

As much as he wanted to run, he didn’t. He kept his gate easy and posture confident. That changed as soon as he was in the privacy of the privy.

Nureyev bolted to a stall, shoving two fingers down his throat. He gagged and wretched till his eyes watered, jaw cramped and his skull pounded. Bowing lower with each convulsion, clinging to the hope he’d retch up the vial cocktail.

It wasn’t working.

He reached deeper, spayed his fingers further, feeling the bite of his sharp teeth in his hand, nails scraping on the inside of his throat-

Historically, he’d viewed being ill at will as a necessary evil of his trade. A skill, as it were.

One he’d never mastered.

It had landed him in the hospital on an occasion or two.

Try as he might, the only thing he succeeded in doing was ruining his makeup. He gave up, of course he did, there wasn’t a point in driving himself into exhaustion. Yet alone displaying that weakness for the world to see.

There was nothing for it. He would just have to bide his time until they returned to the Carte Blanche.

In all probability, he had time. Brahmese people were particularly resilient to a variety of toxins. Not by some evolutionary fluke, but by design. The planet had always been hostile to its human inhabitants. In all its infinite wisdom, the government, rather than deal with the expensive venture of cleaning the pollutants from living zones, had instead chosen to subsidize gene editing. That was before the war though.

Mag had been so relieved to find Nureyev had inherited the genetic coding. ‘First rule of thieving Pete’ he’d laughed ‘take any advantage you can get!’

Advantage- Nureyev snorted, more like a double edged sword. While it afforded him some protection, it also marked him as distinctly Brahmese.

File it away-

The thought of the Carte Blanche again, of Vespa Ilkay. She was the last person he wanted alerted to the genetic quirk.

File that away too while you’re at it-

Nureyev turned his attention to the vanity. He’d made quite the mess of himself. Lipstick and eyeliner smeared, ropes of various… secretions clinging to his nose and mouth, eyes red and puffy. He frowned at the fine dusting of red circling the tender flesh behind the spectacles. Petechiae- apparently he’d burst a few blood vessels.

Great, just great. All the work he’d put into Tillerson’s visage for naught- file it away.

All the same, he allowed himself a moment of discontent as he began the process of cooling the swelling, washing away the evidence and rework his appearance.

The door swung open, and scarlet filled his periphery.

“God Damnit , there you are- Tillerson-” bless him, they’d practiced using their aliases for a week before the job and Juno was still uncomfortable with them.

“Mr. Micah.” Nureyev returned, blending the concealer under his eyes.

“You were gone for a while-” Juno didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Nureyev could tell when his Detective was worried. He was fidgeting head to toe, poor thing.

“I decided to visit the powder room while waiting on our team to analyze the data.” he glanced at his comms “The information appeared to check out- And- oh my they seemed to have attempted to sneak in a trojan horse. Rita assures it isn’t a problem but-”

Juno plainly wasn’t listening. He was looking him over with that sharp eye, stepping into his space. “You okay babe?” he breathed, reaching out to smooth a hair back into place and cupping his cheek “your eyes are red.”

Nureyev jumped in surprise. Had Juno even bothered to check for surveillance devices or- People slept with their co-workers all the time, he and Juno were no exception to that rule, but what if they were seen? Found out? Their cover blown! What if-

But no- he trusted the Detective.

He cleared his head gently kissing the lady’s palm. He considered for a moment telling Juno about the poison, but what came out of his mouth instead was “Just some minor irritation, love.” He stepped away, Mr. Tillerson sliding back into place. “I suppose we should return to our hosts.”

“Yeah-"he flashed an uncertain smile. Just don’t go disappearing on me again. Thought they were going to eat me alive or something-”

“We can not have that now, can we?” He returned the smile, trying to exude his usual confidence despite the weakness in his legs. They would have to wrap this up quickly, if the dizziness was anything to go by. Plant the virus and leave.

“You were gone for quite a while Mr. Tillerson.” greeted their host.

“Merely conversing with my associate.” he shrugged, “And you’re in luck, Mx. Balsa. Your information appears to be- genuine.” Nureyev planted a firm hand on the table, as much for balance as it was to return the chip.

“Of course it is, we went through great pains to ensure it to be so.”

“Indeed. I’m sure the origin story would be most interesting but we have a matter to settle. The price.”

They had discussed this before. Mx. Balsa wouldn’t deal with those who didn’t have something interesting to offer. It had taken Buddy and Rita time to figure out their tastes, and even more to fabricate a program. A hacking bot. It wasn’t real of course, the only thing that made it halfway convincing at all was Rita piloting the thing remotely.

“Yes, the price-” they drawled. Nureyev did not take kindly to that tone. “The price just went up.”

Nureyev’s eyebrows crept upwards while Juno bolted upright “Hey now! We agreed to the terms before this even-”

“Micah, please”

“No! So far they’ve tried to poison us and hid a goodie in their sample intel. Now they want more . Hell, they should be paying us for this-”

“Mr. Micah, please. I merely desire to know what it is you hope to accomplish with the information. And to get a taste for your program’s capabilities as you have of my intel.”

Nureyev pretended to consider it, placing a hand on Juno’s knee and tapping out a message, before saying “These appear to be fair terms, however, what I’m wondering is if there are any more hidden fees.”

To say Mx. Balsa was slippery, was an understatement. Nureyev had seen people like them before, knowledge brokers, able to root out and twist any grain of truth to their heart’s desire. This was not someone he wanted to be investigated by. Juno would be a veritable beacon. Public employees were so easy to track-

Mx. Balsa took their time in testing the program. Rita informed them when she’d gotten the virus set up in their system, it didn’t take her long at all. Now they just had to play the wait game. They fained interest in the intel, made up a story to satiate their curiosity and asked enough questions to avoid suspicion. All the while Nureyev could feel his health take a steady trend downwards.

Once or twice he thought they shot him a knowing look as his attention began to wonder, or that Jody was leaning in a little too closely. He tugged at his collar absently, the sweat plastering his shirt to him under the corset. It was hard to gauge if the pressure of the boning was having a positive or negative effect on the nausea. If they knew he’d been poisoned, what would they do? Would they try to revoke their deal? Detain them? Hurt them? Hurt Juno?

He could not let that happen, would not.

Juno squeezed his thigh, startling him out of his thoughts. Mx. Balsa was pushing a new chip towards them, the one with the information they’d spent the better part of a day mulling over. It was encased in a silver embossed box, flashy and probably manufactured to ensure no one could scan its contents.

Nureyev took out his comms once more and clicked it into place. It was all there, Rita checked for them. Thank the stars it wasn’t another test. After all, it would be suspicious if they left with only half the intel.

“I believe that concludes our business.” he smiled, rising gratefully to his feet.

“We’ve kept you so long, won’t you stay for dinner?”

“Dinner my ass.” Juno grumbled for only Nureyev’s ears.

“Didn’t quite catch that-” Mx. Balsa frowned.

“Ohh Sorry, we’ll pass, don’t feel like dying today.” Juno smiled, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Ahh, Pity.”

Nureyev’s laugh was cut short from a stabbing pain in his abdomen. He started again, swaying, hand pressed to his stomach. Certain he’d find blood.

“Everything okay there Mr. Tillerson?”

Glancing down revealed only the pristine pearl embroidery of the corset. No blade, no blood, he was…. fine-

He released his death grip on the chair, quickly filing away that sensation best he could. Their mission was nearly done after all, no need for theatrics now.

“Perfectly.” He smiled wider, displaying sharp teeth. “We’ll show ourselves out.”

Jody made a big show of opening the doors for them so that the muscled chords of his biceps were on full display. They’d just managed to step before slamming it shut at their backs.

The smile Nureyev had been wearing, dissolved into a grimace. He set a brisk, if uneven, pace to the exit.

“Hey- Ran-” Juno groaned “Tillerson! Wait up!” Juno clacked to his side.

“Apologies Micah, I merely-ah!” he stumbled over his feet, Juno caught him in his strong arms.

“Hey- are-are you alright?”

His head was still spinning and there was that question again. He had no desire to deal with it at present. “I-”

“The truth this time.” Juno pressed, ever the persistent Lady.

“Just a tad under the weather-” he admitted.

“Babe, why didn’t you say something-”

“Something I drank. It’s fine love.”

Bone deep tiredness pulled him down. He wanted nothing more than to surrender himself to the arms of his goddess. It would be safe there, warm.

Juno looked like he was going to ask more questions but was interrupted.

A shrill cry tore through the hall. It sounded like Mx. Balsa.

“What the hell?” Juno craned his neck to look. "You don’t think they found it yet?“

"Let’s- not check.” Nureyev entwined his arm with Juno’s, setting up a brisk pace towards the doors. Relying on the Detective as one might a crutch.

There was a wash of hurried footsteps, people shouting, blasters charging- the only thing that made sense was security-

“I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome Detective!” Nureyev said.

“Ya Think!” Juno yelled back, voice cracking from the force of it. Even so- he withdrew a fist full of blaster from the dress slit.

But Nureyev wasn’t focusing on Juno, wasn’t focusing on the escape. Jody was barreling on through the guards, weapon raised and charging and trained on-

“Micah!” He slammed into Juno just as the bolt whizzed past striking another employee. They rotated so that he could serve as Juno’s shield while giving him time to line up a shot. It might have worked too if he’d been a little quicker-

The next thing he knew he was violently ripped from the Detective. A strong, bulky arm wrapped about his throat, crushing it.

Jody-

It had to be, few could make Nureyev’s toes leave the ground. His chest quaked with strain of forcing air in and out of his constricted windpipe. He kicked for purchase, skiving off the panic by attempting to worm his forearm up through the choke hold; the other diving into a pocket for a blade.

“Tillerson!” Juno shouted.

“Important to you isn’t he.” Their voice was surprisingly soft and high for their bulk.

Juno fired two shots beyond them, he must have hit his mark because there was the sound of something hitting the floor.

Jody jerked back, causing stars to burst in front of Nureyev’s vision. Fear clouded his mind, making him claw at the bodyguard. Even so he blindly groped for the familiar curvature of a handle-

“No more of that-” they warned “Or I will be forced to-” but what they’d be forced to do was lost.

Nureyev found a knife amongst the stashed trinkets and baubles, he had just enough wherewithal to mouth ‘ ready- ’ before manically plunging the blade into the brute’s thigh.

They howled, dropping Nureyev. Juno sent a stunner straight to their chest as soon as his partner was clear. The lady darted forwards, catching the thief under arm and hauling farther along the passage. Nureyev, for his part, gulped down air and forced his sluggish legs to take his weight.

They had no choice but to run. Nureyev readied fresh blades, easier to locate now his brain had a proper supply of oxygen. Pressed for time as they were, he couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t recovering like he ought to.

They rounded a corner and “Damn it” Juno hissed, taking in the thick ring of guards round a door “There’s too many-”

Manny there were. But they also appeared green, scared. Nureyev didn’t need three decades of experience reading people to know they could be intimidated.

“Perhaps-” he puffed, flashing a wiry smile. "Let’s see what they are made of.“ It was all the warning he gave before sprinting towards the group.

It was a foolish plan, a desperate one. There were screams and shouts as Nureyev’s blades flashed. He had to give them a little credit, they held ranks far longer than he’d imagined them capable. That all changed with the first spray of blood. Typically he’d aim to wound in Juno’s presence; but with the way his hands shook he was taking any opening that presented itself.

Distantly he could hear the bite of Juno’s words as he called out and could feel his presence joining at his side. The two of them versus the small army of guards. He allowed himself to get caught up in the simple rhythm of the moment.

For the first time since the mission started, Nureyev’s mind cleared. All there was was the ache of his breath, the burn in his limbs and the death defying dance with Juno Steel.

They shot and sliced their way to an opening; clawed a path to the hall, the entrance way and the street beyond and-

Sweet escape-

This - this moment right here, was what Nureyev lived for.

The dizzying rush of the night air spurred the pair on until all sounds of pursuit faded. Despite his long legs and penchant for running, Juno easily kept pace. He could feel it now, the sickness worrying away at him from the inside. He didn’t know how much more he could take before his legs would give out or lungs burst. Still he pushed harder, dug deeper, counting his steps to drown out the complaints of the body.

At long last they stumbled into an ally way; a narrow thing that reeked of misuse.

"Okay- What the Hell!” Juno rounded on Nureyev, eye flashing in the dim light of the dome.

Nureyev swallowed, hardly able to keep his focus on the Detective. The light cardio had left him feeling queasy and weak. Wrong. He supposed poison on an empty stomach would do that to you. Not to mention how tender his throat was after Jody’s mistreatment.

He put a hand to his clammy forehead, swaying a little.

“I thought I was the reckless one,” he lectured “the one that went off half co- babe? Nureyev?!!!”

He’d doubled over, retching earnestly this time. Just as before, there was nothing to bring up- The cruel dry heaves cramped his core and set his eyes watering, legs folding under the crushing weight of it.

“Babe, heyheyhey, hey~ I got you-” strong arms wrapped around him, propping him up, “I’ve got you.” Small circles worked into his back as they waited for it to end.

“S-sorry-” he gasped between convulsions. They didn’t have time for this, they didn’t have time for any of this. Yet here he was endangering Juno with his own ineptitude. “I’m- ss-”

“Ugh-uh, no, you’re not doing that.” Juno cut him off. “Hell, when you said you weren’t feeling good-” Nureyev made to apologize again, but Juno gave a warning “hun”

He slumped against the brickwork, trembling and breathing heavily.

“Done?”

Nureyev gave a non committal hum. It was all he trusted himself to manage.

All the same, a moment was afforded to him to clean up with a moist towelette. Again his makeup was ruined, but he was far from caring. The important thing at present was to leave this city behind.

Juno seemed to be thinking along the same vein. “Think you can stand? Or should I contact Jet?”

“No need for that love.” Nureyev smiled weakly, nausea churning within “Just give me a hand.”

The Detective obliged, neatly entangled their fingers and pulled him along using his comms to navigate. He was mighty grateful for the assistance, between the stomach ache and the weight in his limbs, he was having difficulty remaining upright.

Nureyev eyed the nooks and crannies of the back streets. Had he been alone he’d likely of spent the night curled up in one of those charming locations. Cold and cramped, but out of sight. He sighed, surrendering himself to the guidance of his goddess.

“Hello Ruby.” Nureyev greeted wirily. It chirped in response alerting Jet to their presence. The door swung open of the Ruby’s own volition and the pair slid in. “Jet-”

“Ransom.” Jet acknowledged.

“Hey big guy.”

“Are either of you injured?” he asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror. “I ask because of the blood.”

“Don’t think so. Had to get a little rough on the getaway.” Juno explained glancing down at his gore streaked dress and coat. “Honestly, if we could move out, that would be great. I don’t really fancy meeting up with those nut jobs again.”

Nureyev hummed in agreement. Doing his level best to keep his expression neutral and his breathing measured. He must look a mess judging by the way Jet kept eyeing him.

Turbulence made him gasp as pain blossomed in his abdomen. His composure slipping and rearranging like water. He slouched lower, trying to get some relief-

Juno was talking with Jet, or talking at him more like. Nureyev stopped listening after the first few moments, lulled instead by his Lady’s warm voice and the way it crackled at the edges when he became impassioned. He was just so tired-

Before he knew it, the thief was leaning on the Detective’s shoulder, sinking into his side, bloodshot eyes fluttering shut. Normally he’d be loathed to sleep at the end of a job like some worn out child. But he couldn’t fight anymore.

22 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

54. I’m not sure what you think I said, but you start calling me an asshole and whip a ruler at me and somehow, we both end up in detention

Indruck, sfw, please?

Here you go! Content note: spiders appear at one point.

I based some of this AU--namely the concept of the Crucible and how magic is channeled--on the Carry On series by Rainbow Rowell. And Duck is trans in this, because any good wizarding school is inclusive.

After three years at Amnesty Academy, Duck is used to the objects being magically propelled through the air. But a ruler zipping through the air and smacking the back of his head is a new, unpleasant experience.

He tracks it to two chairs to his left, the new third year with the silver hair. He hasn’t even been here a day, what the fuck the is his problem?

“Hey, what the hell man?”

“You know very well what.”

“Uh, no I don’t, and I don’t appreciate bein hit with a fuckin ruler!”

“The maybe think before you insult someone next time!”

“I didn’t fuckin insult you! I don’t even know your name!”

“Ahem.” Ned, their Charms professor, looks down at them reproachfully, “gentlemen, while I know the review of Zone of Truth is rather dull, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t entertain yourselves with mindless conflict.”

“Sorry, Ned.” Duck mumbles, sending his pencil shooting below desk level to whack the other guy in the leg at the exact same moment he whips his pen at Duck’s hand.

“OW!”

Ned sighs, “I hate to do this, but-”

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

“Detention! Lovely, my first day here and I’m in trouble. Thank you so much, Duck Newton, for landing us here.”

“You started it!” He growls as they take their seats. God, he hopes this isn’t one of Woodbridge’s days.

“Huh, only two.” Mama wipes her boots on the mat, closes the door behind her, “Afternoon, Duck. And…”

“Indrid.” Says his nemesis, “It is nice to meet you Professor C-” he cocks his head, “you really prefer I call you ‘Mama?’”

“Yep. Never could get behind that more formal stuff. Let some of the first years call me ‘Ms. Mama’ if they really need to feel like they’re showin some deference.”

Mama is deputy Headmistress of Amnesty. The only reason she’s not fully in charge is that she’s not a witch and some families object to that. So The Quell technically runs the school while Mama does most of the actual day to day work. She also teaches a course of non-magic practical skills because, “some things you can’t magic your way out of. Like taxes.”

Duck loves her class and, while he doesn’t understand why someone would opt into this weirdness, he admires the guts it takes as a fifteen year old human to walk into a wizarding school and declare that there was plenty you could learn there even though you couldn’t so much as send a spark from your fingers.

As he and Indrid watch the clock tick down, Mama pulls a bag from her satchel. The contents are cookies, which she offers to each of them.

“Barclay tryin’ out new recipes?”

“Course he is. Kid is gonna be the best damn kitchen witch in the country by the time he graduates. Guess he’s plannin to spend the summer drivin around and learnin the food magic of different regions.” She smiles, “bet you’ll never guess who’s goin’ with him.”

“Joe?”

“Bingo. Apparently he wants to study niche cultural magic.”

Duck’s pretty sure there’s another motive; sharing a van bed with Barclay. It sounds fun, roving the country, discovering new places with someone handsome by your side.

All that’s by his side is a glower hiding behind red glasses.

“Mama? I, ah, would it be possible for me to leave five minutes early? I’m supposed to get my pairing from the Crucible tonight.”

The older woman looks between the two of them, “Better tell me how you landed here first. Ned just said it was an argument.”

“He threw a ruler at me outta nowhere.”

“It was not, you know what you said.”

“The last thing I said before you hit me was ‘“nah, man’ when Billy offered me a pizza roll from his lunch.”

Indrid goes still, “Oh. I, ah, I misheard you. I thought you said 'mothman.' I apologize. I ought to have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

He seems so suddenly downtrodden that Duck shrugs, “Yeah, you should have. But it ain’t the worst thing that’s happened to me here. Not by a long shot.”

“No kiddin” Mama leans back on the desk, “Two of you can go at five til.”

His evening turns uneventful after that; dinner, hanging out with Juno and Aubrey, half doing homework and half fucking around on his phone in his room (the agreement between the school and the government is that a long as the students don’t post vidoes of themselves doing sick stunts with magic, the government will ignore any explosions and/monsters in the vicinity of the school).

He’s never had a roommate; when the Crucible spat out his name in fire on his first day, there was no other name with it. Almost everyone else rooms in pairs or trios. So his belongings are strewn about the tiny cabin that makes up his home away from home. Which is why, when the door creaks open at ten p.m, he sits up and prepares to fire off a spell.

Indrid stands in the doorway, one bag over his shoulder and another in his hand. He looks tired.

“Hello, Duck. Ah, I guess that one is my bed, then.”

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

The class schedules for Amnesty are generated by the heart of the school itself. Indrid isn’t entirely sure what that means, but the heart must not be terribly creative. It stuck him in divination class. He’s been seeing the future since he was five, managing it with his drawings since he was eight. Even the professor has no idea what to do with him, since the images come in like a garbled T.V signal when he uses a crystal ball and the cup shattered when he tried to read tea leaves.

At least Barclay gave him a conciliatory caramel while they swept up the shards. It made him feel a bit better, though whether that’s due to enchantment or Barclay being exceedingly good at cooking is hard to say.

And now he has to go to “Magical Weaponry.” Magical Defense he understands; there are still lots of malicious forces out there, or even just everyday evils that it’s good to be able to ward against. Plus, Vincent is a good professor, enthusiastic and understanding.

Professor Minerva is just as enthusiastic but twice as loud. This is their first day in the actual gym, as opposed to at a blackboard, and his visions suggest it’s going to go poorly for him. As it should; he’s not a fighter, he’s a disaster.

At Amnesty, magic is channeled through objects. Most people use wands or their hands but some, like Aubrey, use jewelry (a necklace from her mother) or another accessory.

Duck Newton uses a sword. Or he’s trying to. The sword seems to be winning.

“Exert your will on him, Duck Newton, he answers to you!”

“I answeeer to only the capable.”

“Shut up, Beacon.” Duck adjusts his grasp, but nothing happens until he drops the sword and sends a spell through his fingers. The target explodes. Indrid suddenly feels a bit better about his own probable performance.

Duck notices him, indicates the practice area next to him is clear. While they started off poorly, his roommate is doing his best to demonstrate southern hospitality. He invites Indrid to eat with him, helps him when his visions offer no help in navigating the grounds, and even lent him a blue and green shirt (Amnesty's colors) for his first Spirit Day. Duck is the best thing to happen to him in his first month here.

By the time class is over, they have six broken targets, a shredded mat, and a knife that is now a very confused frog between them. They manage to laugh about it, even as Duck scoops up the amphibian and tucks him into his shirt pocket.

It’s then that Indrid realizes he has a crush.

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

“You comin to the game tonight?” Juno measures her sapling.

“Assumin nothin comes up and nobody’s tryin to kill me, you know I’ll be there.” He loves cheering Juno on during her soccer games (hey, not everything has to be magic based, even at a wizarding school).

“Drat.”

The hissed frustration draws his attention to the far end of the work table. Indrid is trying to coax his Venus Flytraps to perk up, but they remain brown and limp.

“Need some help?”

“Please, as you clearly know what you’re doing.” Indrid tilts his head towards the sapling pine tree Duck is working on. If he does his growing spells right, he’ll be able to take it home as a Christmas Tree during winter break.

“You tend to picture words or, uh,pictures when you do your spells?”

“Images work best. The trouble is that the futures sometimes make it difficult for me to picture a spell clearly.”

“What if I try describing how I’d see it and you picture what I say?”

“It’s worth a try.” Indrid closes his eyes.

“Okay. Think about the roots drawin water up from the soil, about the traps absorbin nutrients from prey. That brown is goin green as they do, they’re stems are growin stronger…” he grins as the plant turns bright green, it’s mouths open, “hey, ‘Drid, look”

“Oh!” Indrid flaps his hands, “it worked! Now I can keep them healthy and big andohno, nono not again.”

The table cracks and collapses as the plant turns gigantic, blocking out the light from the greenhouse roof.

“Holy fuck, that’s great!”

“Language, sport, but I agree.” Thacker, the head of the magical Horticulture classes, whistles as he looks the plant up and down, “this is mighty impressive Indrid. Wonder if we could use it on some pumpkins come fall…”

“I don’t recommend it, unless you want them to chase people.” Indrid points to one of the heads, which is swaying in the air and lowering closer to him. It snaps and he leaps back, falling to a pile of potting soil. Thacker raises his walking stick and the flytrap returns to its proper size.

Duck helps Indrid up, but his friend stays quiet through the end of class and on the walk back to their room.

“You know it ain’t anythin to be ashamed of, right?” Duck flips on the light, “we all fuck up spells now and then. Hell, Aubrey is on track to be the best spellcaster this school’s ever seen and she still has trouble.”

“But mine go haywire constantly” Indrid flops, dejected, onto his bed, “forget mastering my powers, I’ll be lucky if I graduate able to keep them in check. If I graduate at all.” His hand searches the bed blindly; Duck sets the weighted, plush bat into so Indrid can set it on his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never lasted more than a year at a magical school. Or a non-magical one. I started at Mt Vernon when I was fifteen. Tried Deep Hollow and Shasta the year after that. I’m powerful but I can’t seem to channel it well, and three different schools decided I was more trouble than I was worth.”

“Bullshit.” Duck rests a hand on Indrid’s knee, “you’re strugglin with somethin; that means you need more help, not less. And if anyone gets it into their heads to kick you outta Amnesty, I’ll raise a goddamn ruckus.”

Indrid chuckles, quiet and disbelieving.

“I’m serious. You know Aubrey and them would side with me, and Joe knows school policy well enough he could probably find a reason why them tryin to get rid of you was against the rule.”

“Thank you.” Indrid’s smile is a rare flower, fragile and stunning.

“You want one of those calm-down caramels Barclay made?”

“Please.”

Duck grabs the box from the cabinet of their little kitchenette, then snags a Coke and a pineapple soda from the fridge. Indrid is no longer horizontal, is instead sitting with his back to the wall so Duck has space to join him.

Under the fizz of fresh bubbles, his friend murmurs, ‘“Have people really tried to kill you?”

“Yep. Someone sent an assassin after me my first year, and there was a Dire wolf on the grounds last winter that was clearly locked on to my scent. Perk of bein a Chosen One.” He grumbles as he swigs his drink.

“...Who on earth sends an assassin after a fifteen year old?”

“Right?! Fuck if I know, they never got any information out of the guy. Fuckin prophecy I swear, I didn’t even want these powers, let alone to be some kind of hero.”

“I sympathize.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “there are prophecies around my birth as well.”

Duck clunks their bottles together, “To bein’ fucked over by stuff we can’t control.”

Indrid drains his soda, then perks up, “Oh! Oh dear, you should go if you want to be there for Juno’s match.”

“Come with me?” Duck can’t get the image of the two of them sharing a giant pretzel while smushed thigh to thigh on the bleachers out of his head.

His friend grins, “Of course.”

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

Duck hoped, after his not-great time in middle school, that a magic academy would be asshole free. But no, there are assholes everywhere, and these ones have even more tools for tormenting their targets. He’s never been one, nor have any of his friends. The one time someone tried to bully Barclay, Dani sicked three spectral hummingbirds on them until they apologized.

Indrid, odd and new, is an easy target, though he seems to hold his own just fine (and his proximity to the most powerful witch in school does scare off many potential antagonists). But three guys in their Magical Defense class have zeroed in on him.

They’re standing in line to practice against an evil eye when Indrid’s glasses, the ones he doesn’t take off even when he sleeps, hit the floor by Duck’s feet. Duck scrambles to grab them before they get stepped on, wondering why everyone is making such a fuss. Then he turns and backs up in alarm.

An eight foot tall moth creature is where Indrid should be, red eyes wide and claws clicking together anxious.

“Who let that thing in here?” Someone yells from behind him.

Indrid’s antenna flatten.

“Fuck, wasn’t expecting him to be that big a freak” one of the bullies scoffs.

Black wings twitch.

“Newton, give him the glasses back so we don’t have to look at him!”

Indrid trills, upset, and leaps into the air at the same moment Aubrey yells, “that’s enough” and Vincent shouts a reminder about no flames in enclosed spaces and also detention for you three. Duck is to busy climbing out the window Indrid flew through to pick up the details.

One two-story fall later, he’s chasing a dark shape into the Monongahela forest. While the parts of the woods near his hometown of Kepler are non-enchanted, this chunk is magic down to the moss (he plans to write his final year project on how those halves of forest mesh on an ecological level). One of the worst aspects of the enchanted portions is their tendency to re-shape around travelers. His usual way around this is to have an unwavering sense of where he’s going and pretend the woods are giving him an unchanging path to get there. But that trick does fuck-all when he doesn’t know his destination.

After two hours of searching he’s no closer to finding Indrid, it’s getting dark, and he’s debating heading back to the school for help. He hasn’t been this deep in the woods since he fled the Dire Wolf, and he knows the deeper you go into the trees, the wilder the magic becomes. Bad news for him, even worse for his friend who's out there somewhere, upset and alone.

Eight gigantic eyes glitter at him from the dirt, and he quickly rearranges who has it worse right now.

Throwing a burst of light into the trapdoor spiders eyes buys him enough time to bolt to a tree and climb. As soon as it crawls free of its burrow he freezes; if he’s remembering right, they use vibrations to locate prey.

Fuck, that thing is the size of a VW Beatle. Why is that even a thing? No spider needs to be this big!

In spite of his stillness, it spies him and sets its forelimbs on the tree-trunk. There’s nothing else for it; he draws Beacon, pictures the spider shrinking, and casts his spell.

A soft crunch of leaves signals it hitting the ground, now an unremarkable size for an arachnid. Just as he steps down a branch, a second trap door opens and an enraged spider bursts out, looking for it’s friend. When it can’t find it, it turns and snaps its mandibles at Duck. This time, Beacon does nothing, no matter how Duck commands and curses as his eight-legged doom gets closer.

A crackle of electricity and then this spider disappears as well. On the other side of the trunk, red eyes regard him with worry, “are you hurt?”

“Nah, all in one piece thanks to you.” He holds out his hand, “you wanna head back?”

“Yes, please.” Indrid flaps to the ground, Duck following him on foot and then turning them towards campus, “you did not need to come look for me.”

“Course I did, not gonna let my friend get swallowed up by the forest. Oh, here” he holds out the red glasses, “you want these back?”

“Not just yet. That is, if this form is not too alarming to you.”

Duck takes in the glossy feathers, the charming ruff, the way the face is still obviously Indrid yet excitingly new, “I’m good.”

Light flickers from black claws, stars and flowers spinning out with ease, “It’s so much easier when I’m like this. I never foresaw my disguise charm being an issue, but the older I’ve gotten the more it seems to influence my ability to control my spells. But, well, you saw how people reacted. Even you were startled.”

“In my defense, I thought you’d been eaten by, well, you.” Duck casts the same spell, vines of light chasing the red flowers, “I’m still sorry, though. You ain’t horrible like this, ‘Drid; you’re fuckin stunnin. Never seen anyone as incredible as you.”

Indrid stops, looking down at him, “Do you truly mean that?”

Duck rises on his toes, pecking his cheek, “Yeah, I do.”

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

The Halloween Formal is the most elaborate event at Amnesty. Indrid feels that if there’s any day he’s within his rights to be in his true form, it’s when everyone else is dressed as monsters.

He doesn’t have a date. He thought Duck was in the same predicament. Then his friend left before he was half-done grooming his feathers, saying he needed to get flowers for his hot date.

Ah well. At least Indrid will get to see him there and spend some time with his friends.

He checks his reflection in the gleaming black walls, orange and purple lights glowing and jack’o lanterns floating above his head. He adjusts his robes, the nice red ones his father sent him, and prepares to enter the ballroom.

“Hold up.”

When he turns, Duck is standing there in his black dress shirt and green tie, looking for all the world like he’s alone.

“You got one more thing to put on” He holds out a bracelet of flowers, sized to slip perfectly over Indrid’s hand. There are matching flowers pinned to one side of Duck’s hair.

“Oh. Oh my. You really-”

Duck uses a small spell to bend Indrid into a kiss; it’s a bit messy, since their mouths aren’t meant to fit together, but Indrid would not trade it for all the magic in the world.

“Yeah, ‘Drid, I really do.” With that, Duck offers his elbow and they walk arm in arm into the great hall.

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugly #wizard au

18 notes · View notes

firerose · 3 years

Note

headcannons about each individual member kf the seven as dark?

So I decided to split this answer into seven seperate posts because otherwise it would be too long (I'm having to much fun wit this XD)

I'll post the first one here <3

Ok, here we go <3, Hazel: People expected her to change after Franks death She had lost her boyfriend at fourteen no one expected that to be easy So none said anything when she kneeled over his grave for five whole days and nights Reyna simply brought her food and hot chocolate and mourned with her But if they all could have had a look into Hazel's mind they could have seen the slow death of the sweet kind girl she used to be Thoughts of hate begin to burn inside her She asks herself why Juno who saved Franks stick from burning up as a baby refused to do it a second time. The question makes her storm up to Olympus, her brown eyes hard with anger Her friends are with her, Of course, they want to protect each other now that one of them has fallen Juno awaits them in her usual glory, tall with a cloak around her shoulder and .. jewellery precious metals decorating her arms and neck "Why didn't? Do you save him? Was he just a weapon you did not need anymore?!, hazel shouts out her suspicion and now people, gods and demigods alike begin to worry The queen of Olympus remains silent She sees the hatred in hazels eyes and regrets not answering her grandsons screams for help when he burned in the flames Her silence is Hazel's answer and in her growing rage the necklace on Juno's neck starts chocking the goddess Hazel does not feel remorse, only satisfaction as she hears Junos choking It is Percy's hand on her shoulder that snaps her out and Juno's necklace flys into her open hand "You will never use a demigod like that again I will make sure of that. She says and then with one last glare leaves Things are not the same when shes back at camp Jupiter Everything and everyone annoys her, reminds her of what she has lost They are around her all the time like, Leo who reminds her of Sammy, Jason who made Frank Praetor, Percy who loved Frank like a brother Whenever they talk about Frank she feels the desire to yell at them One time when Jason tries to comfort her once again she snaps "You don't have to do this just because you made Frank Praetor and you feel guilty.", Hazel tells him a bit too harshly and Jason leaves her She feels guilty so she does her best to act as grateful as possible from now on The days are very hard for her That is why she loves the night She hasn't forgotten the power rush she got on Olympus and that is why keeps practising She steals weapons from the night patrols She makes the tunnels under the field of Mars change so that they all lead to dead ends When some of the new Rome's war veterans talk about having seen lost loved ones at night Hazel pretends to not listen She just thanks Jason in her thoughts for telling her so much about the ones that fell in the titan war Hazel disappears two weeks after Frank's death The remaining five of the seven are devastated They immediately go searching for her but even after five months there is no sign of her Other demigods start whispering Even Thalia who visits Reyna often is part of those whispers She doesn't know hazel and Frank well and yet what she has heard reminds her so much of the story of a friend she had once lost He had been left alone with his fate with his insane mother just like Hazel Thalia fears that now that Hazel has lost a loved one she will seek revenge just like Luke once did. Nico and Percy are Hazel's greatest defenders They deny every rumour and says that Hazel just needs time to calm down it's the only thing that keeps them from drowning in their guilt Hazell has gone to her old home in Alaska Arion took her there It hurts to be back but here she is saved from the gods who used her and her loved ones She's so sick of being their pawn The years pass and all alone in this cold country Hazel's heart turns to ice A few old men yell insult her with racist phrases She controls the metal ankers on their ships to impale them She hears screams from her neighbour's house at night and so she breaks the metal lock to get in The man who is beating his wife only has a second to look at her before her senses reach metal and they find it......in his

blood She concentrates hand stretched out and the man chokes to death She leaves without a word There is no remorse in her, if the gods let her sweet gentle boyfriend die why isn't she allowed to kill a few bad peopöe One day she decides to return as thoughts about her past cloud her mind Someone has to show the gods that they can't treat their children like this She returns after ten years but does not show herself to her friends Maybe because she worries that they notice how much she has changed Instead, she decides to try to control the labyrinth just like Pasiphae once did The mist helps her to create new tunnels that lead wherever she wants them to go One day they lead to new Rome She just wants to look at how everyone is doing but when she sneaks near the city hidden in her magic she sees something that makes her furious Her friends have moved on She sees them celebrating with other Romans and greeks They celebrate Gea‘s defeat like it wasn‘t just a terrible unnecessary war they had to suffer through She hates that they enjoy their demigod lives They should have told the gods that they want to live normally away from both camps that endanger their lives Unfortunately, that makes her think of Frank and how he has ripped away from his life, his home country just to serve the gods Hazel feels her rage burning like an active Volcano close to erupting She walks up the hill over new Rome and looks down at the glorious city She could bury it without even trying For a moment she thinks about the lives that will cost but then again what else could make the gods notice their flaws She reaches for all the metals buried under the city She hesitates for a moment but then she thinks about Frank, his sweet smile and with a scream the earth starts shaking Buildings and temples collapse People get swallowed by big cracks in the earth There are screams horns are blowing Mist is rising and People hear voices whisper that this is god's fault They have to be punished for their mistakes It‘s like a storm of fog being thickest at the hilltop Hazel‘s old friends are filled with dread as they have seen those powers before Leo decides to fly directly into the mist together with Piper and Jason Hazel sees them approaching and a soft smile appears on her lips The mist lightens All demigods gasp Leo yells in despair He already blames himself for Franks death and now he sees that Hazel the girl he once loved has gone mad Her once curly short hair now long falls around her shoulders Her once brown eyes glow sickly golden as if the riches of the earth have taken control over her It drives him insane and so he rips out a hammer from his tool belt and attempts to attack her Hazel feels deeply hurt by this and so she moves her hands Leo is thrown of Festus's toolbelt made of metal turning out to be his curse Hazel smashes him into the ground a hundred feet under him Festus claws impale Jason and Piper before they have time to react Hazel feels a sting in her heart but she oppresses it The gods and their quest would have killed them anyway Percy and Annabeth are still in the falling city trying to get as many people out of there as possible They both try to ignore the corpses falling from the sky Percy‘s mind is still refusing that the girl he sees as a sister would do this He knows that she has to be stopped but how is he supposed to do that? He still loves her like a sister despite the lives she is taking Her real brother steps up instead Hazel can feel his presence behind her It makes her lose focus The citizens of New Rome cry in relief when the metals stop resurfacing Their city is in ruins but at least it has stopped Before Hazel can react skeleton warriors jump out of the earth restrain her by grabbing her arms She is furious about Nicos interference and struggles to escape „Hazel please it‘s not worth it just surrender and we‘ll talk about this.“, Nico says while he walks up in front of her. Hazel‘s heart breaks at the tortured look in his eyes and she realizes that she is the reason for it She disappeared She came back and murdered

hundreds She did it for Frank but she suddenly asks herself if Frank would have ever wanted to get justice in this way Would he wanted her to become hateful and obsessed with revenge just for him? As she looks into Nico‘s eyes regret strikes her „I……..I‘m sorry.“, She whispers with tears in her eyes. Nico smiles sadly happy that his little sister came to her senses He stretches out his hand to gently touch her cheek Thunder rumbles and suddenly a lightning bold explodes the hilltop right where the children of the underworld Jupiter feels nothing as he watches Percy, Reyna and Annabeth falling to their knees, sobbing and holding each other Hazel Levesque is just another demigod for him, a girl that could not get over her boyfriend Percy buries Hazel next to Frank all by himself New Rome is rebuilt with the help of the greeks The time goes by and slowly Frank and Hazel‘s names are forgotten Juno would love if they had never existed in the first place Whenever demigods speak of them they do it with anger and the queen of Olympus fears that one day a rebellion will start It's not often that their names are talked about but when they are people always refer to them as „Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang. The couple that died in Storm and fire

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #hoo #dark hazel #dark!seven #dark!Hazel #hazel levesque #frank zhang #leo valdez #jason grace #piper mclean #annabeth chase #thalia grace #frazel

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mercurygray · 3 years

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My current fav 1940s "The War Ended and We Went Home With Other People" AU for Ron and Billie 😍 Juno xx

The war ended and they went home to other people.

One swallow couldn't make a summer, and it was silly, really, thinking in Austria that somehow they could make it work. He was still married and her mother still expected things and it had been easier, when the unit moved back to France and her notice to rotate home came to simply pluck it from the pile and leave without saying goodbye, or writing down an address. Mahoney was already gone, Talbert too, and most of the new hands weren't old enough to have formed any particular attachment to their sergeant.

At least, she had found it easier. Ron was...struggling, a little, because the part of his mind that liked to make up stories had been working on one for a little while where they moved to England and he installed her in a cottage and visited on weekends. It was preposterous, he knew that, but still - the story fed him.

Of course, the best storyteller in the world couldn't have anticipated that when he got back to England he'd have a surprise waiting for him in the form of one recently returned POW.

People who thought they knew him might have expected him to explode at his wife at the very thought of what she suggested next - but there weren't too many people who could say they really knew Ron Speirs well - and after all he'd seen and been, Sparky Speirs was out of spark.

So he let her go, too.

And that pleasant little fiction about the cottage and the flowers and the woman with the flame-colored hair somehow ...never made a reappearance. There were a few casual girlfriends, in Georgia, but he was bruised, though hell if he'd let anyone actually know that, and he didn't want to try very hard if it just meant that he'd lose someone again.

War was funny like that. It changed how you thought about loss, and here, in the middle of the peace, somehow losing things or people seemed harder than it had before. In wartime you expected it, waited for it, even. In peacetime it seemed unnecessary.

He wasn't really one for reunions - had skipped all the weddings to which he'd been invited, knowing the invitations were a formality and attendance wasn't expected. He didn't feel like having to explain himself to people who would know he was lying when he said he was doing all right. But there was Bill Guarnere's letter, inviting him to Philidelphia, the whole company, replacements, Toccoa men, and all, and would the CO come? A mimeographed sheet of hotel rates followed. He could have thrown it away, except that there was also one from Marj Gordon (Marj Lipton, now, as if anyone couldn't have seen that coming from a mile away) politely bossing him into attendance, like a sergeant would. "I hear you're good with children," she wrote. "You can manage mine." He could hear that in her voice, and it made him laugh, a rare commodity these days, so he pulled out the little postcard and wrote back to Guarnere that he'd be happy to attend.

It was strange, arriving in the hotel ballroom dressed for dinner - people were actually glad to see him. He was shaking hands and smiling and being handed babies (he still hadn't seen the Liptons yet, and she was hard to miss) and suddenly, across the room, there was a head of flame colored hair, and Ron was back in that story, at the cottage with the climbing roses and the little gate, and she was turning back to look at him, and he had a sudden premonition that he'd been writing the story wrong before, that this was how the meeting was supposed to happen, and that the ending this time would be different.

#i have written a thing #ron speirs #billie mitchell #1940s girl gang #not QUITE an au #all the alternate universes #thirsty thursday #the war ended and everyone was fine #mercurygraypresents #the war ended and we went home with other people

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naerysthelonesome · 3 years

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Before I Go

A Jeyna fic no one asked for.

Listened to folklore again and was cursed with feelings. I’m sorry.

Please, picture me in the trees I hit my peak at seven Feet in the swing over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

Reyna, Jason had found in the two years he’d known her, did not tell people things about herself. And she sure as hell did not talk about her childhood. So he was surprised and more than a little gratified when she’d decided to tell him about her life in San Juan.

He couldn’t stop thinking of her now, as a happy little girl with untidy braids and a bright smile, strolling the cobbled streets with her big sister. Dancing around in the dappled shadows of the banana trees as the salty breeze blew past.

She’d told him of how she’d tried to catch a Coqui frog once, but had failed spectacularly. She gotten herself scratched up and muddied, and ripped all her clothes. Her older sister, she’d said, could be scary when she was mad, and Hylla had been infuriated at the state of her when she got back from the field. She spoke of that summer like it had been the best one of her life.

He couldn’t begin to make sense of how he felt about Reyna, but knew without a doubt that he liked the idea of spending a summer with her in San Juan. They could walk down the streets and she could point out her favorite cats, and trees, and rocks, and he’d make sure to remember every single one of them. They could spend long days with the old men playing dominoes, sucking on Piraguas without a care in the world.

But he knew these were just dreams, memories of a life long gone. Reyna barely spoke about her home town, let alone made plans to go back. Jason was not nearly dense enough to believe her life back then had been all sunshine and beautiful colours. They were demigods, and all demigods had monsters. Maybe someday, Reyna would tell him about hers.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids make a pattern Love you to the Moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

Jason was nothing more than a ghost now. Barely even a lare, who unlike himself, could be seen and talked to. That was alright. He wasn’t here to be perceived.

He’d tried to visit his friends multiple times over the months since he’d died- to see them one last time, for just a moment of closure- but this was the first time he’d had any success.

Of course the first person he came to see had to be Reyna. He’d missed her more than he knew he could miss a person. He supposed it was because he hadn’t so much as had a proper conversation with his best friend since Juno had so rudely snatched him away. And then it had taken so much time, time he only later realized he didn’t have to waste, for his memories to return fully. All he’d had of her for so long had been a space in his heart where she should have fit. Not a name, or a face, but a feeling. He wished he’d had more time to find his way back to her.

Reyna meant more to him than he had ever told her, and familiar regret came bubbling up like bile in his throat. Wasn’t the afterlife supposed to give him peace? But how could there be peace when there she sat, thick braid hanging loosely over her shoulder, sharpening her silver dagger? She looked so beautiful in the moonlight, her breath fogging up in the cold air seeming to breathe life into his dead soul. He’d never stopped loving her.

He was glad she’d found a home with the Hunters of Artemis. For the first time in a long time, she looked free. And while it meant they wouldn’t meet again anytime soon, he was glad to know she had the chance to live a long, long life. One full of the adventures and love and happiness she deserved. A small, perhaps selfish part of him hoped she wouldn’t forget him along the way.

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why I think you should come live with me And we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet And just like a folk song Our love will be passed on

Wanting to strangle someone that didn’t exist was a strange feeling, but one that was evoked in Jason every time Reyna mentioned her father. Neither of them had had happy childhoods or good parents, it seemed. Well, that was something to bond over.

It hadn’t been easy for Reyna to talk about him, which he understood, especially now that he knew how that story ended. He didn’t blame her one bit for what she’d done, but couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t had to make such a decision at all. The burden it seemed she would always bear was heavy, and she shouldn’t have been made to carry it at all. Not speaking ill of the dead kept getting harder by the second.

Maybe if her story had gotten better after she and Hylla had run away, his nerves wouldn’t be feeling so shot. Circe’s island should have been an escape. With its sandy beaches, and palm trees, and miles of sparkling blue ocean Reyna liked to describe in such detail. But no. All the adults in their lives had to be exploitative bastards. Reyna hadn’t sounded too angry about it though. She’d laughed as she recounted her tales of turning pirates into guinea pigs, coerced into the act as she may have been. Jason couldn’t lie- he saw the allure.

Speaking of pirates- the one’s Reyna had escaped with unfortunately hadn’t been the swashbucklery kind either. They’d been the cut-throat, cruel kind and now Reyna couldn’t stand sea shanties anymore; which was alright with Jason since he couldn’t sing anyway. The only reason the sisters had to escape with them at all had been because two upstart demigods she refused to divulge the names of, decided to blow up the island. Jason couldn’t decide whether he wanted to smack them upside the head for it, or thank them profusely for unwittingly steering Reyna to Camp Jupiter.

He hoped that here, she’d finally found a home and a place to rest. It wasn’t perfect, not even close, but she was making it hers. Reyna was already well on her way to becoming a praetor, and he knew she’d make one of New Rome’s finest.

Please, picture me in the weeds Before I learned civility I used to scream ferociously Any time I wanted

Jason often wondered how Reyna had thought of him after she’d found out about his history. There hadn’t been much he’d been able to remember about his own childhood. He’d been only two years old when he’d been given to Lupa, and all his memories of a family were little more than a blur. His home had been Camp Jupiter for most of his life, and he truly couldn’t remember another.

When he’d told her all he could remember of how it was to be raised by a wolf, she’d only looked amused. She’d simply looked him up and down and laughed. She had a cute laugh, all snorts and shaking shoulders. He didn’t always understand the things that made her laugh, but laughing with her felt so natural he did it every golden time.

He wondered if she’d had anyone to laugh with when he was taken away. Had she missed him? Every memory he’d had of her had been snatched away, but there were some people with whom you were so completely intertwined, even the Gods couldn’t untangle the strings. Perhaps he couldn’t place a name to what had been missing, but he had remembered her. Even in death, he would remember.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Pack your dolls and a sweater We'll move to India forever Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

What he wouldn’t give to go back and have one last Hot Chocolate with her in the Garden of Bacchus, to speak one more sentence in Spanish (Te amo, Reyna) and hear her snort at his accent, to brush her hair behind her ear once more. He hadn’t told her nearly enough times, how much he’d loved her laugh.

What he wouldn’t give to have one last chance to confess to her how he felt, with Aurum and Argentum there so she knew none of it was a lie.

But there was nothing he could give to turn back time, or build himself a different fate. They could only be together now in stories, and memories, and alternate universes. If there were any kind Gods left, perhaps in an afterlife that wouldn’t come for centuries.

Maybe he should feel sadness or loss, looking at her now for the last time. Mourn the loss of all the happiness they could have had together. He was going to leave again without a way to say goodbye or wish her well or have her look at him, but all he felt was contentment. She sat around a glowing fire, surrounded by her friends and sisters, singing soft campfire songs and telling stories of old. Maybe someday, she’d narrate their story too.

Jason finally found peace in the knowledge that his girl was going to be okay.

#jeyna #jeyna angst #they were soulmates #jason grace #reyna avilla ramirez arellano #jason x reyna #jeyna fanfiction #jason is a ghost in this one #my sincerest apologies #just assume Thalia is elsewhere #and Reyna did tell him about her childhood #because of course she did! They were besties #seven

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legosi-and-louis-are-in-love · 4 years

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What if Louis had went to Legosi for comfort tho...

Louis stood in front of a drab, rusted metal door. It looked so appropriately plain he couldn’t help but think to smile. His mouth didn’t receive the message, though.

The past few days had been hell for him, to say the least. He couldn’t get the faces in the crowd he had seen at the funeral out of his head. He did not recognize a single one of them aside from the butlers, and aside from them not a single one of those faces seemed to hold any grief. Was he doomed to follow in his father’s footsteps and die with no friends or loved ones?

He recalled that this was the train of thought that brought him here, into this ancient rotting building his closest friend called home. He had never been inside but he knew where it was, and a quick inquiry at the desk had brought him to the appropriate room. It was late enough that he was sure the wolf was home, although no sounds emanated from the room to suggest this.

He had fought the impulse at first. Legosi was busy training. He needed to focus if he was going to win this thing and live. Louis desperately didn’t want Legosi to rely on his other leg. Louis needed to give him space and keep the wolf’s head in the game. Even if it burned him to the core thinking about how quickly he had become attached to his long lost childhood friend who now gave him no time of day.

This was probably the other thought that brought him here. He remembered last year when he derided Juno for being selfish, and she asked him why that was seen as a bad thing. That memory pushed the switch in his mind from ‘no’ to ‘yes’ when he asked himself if he could go see Legosi. He was selfish. He needed to be with someone else right now.

He looked down at his emaciated form, holding his hands up and staring at them. His right hand clenched and moved forward. Slowly but surely, it inched toward the door until it made contact noiselessly. Why was he so nervous? If anything, Legosi always seemed to be the nervous one around him. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to talk to an animal you had eaten a part of. Was it torture for Legosi to be around him? Was this all a big mistake?

No. Louis was selfish. He knocked once, and a thud soon resounded from behind the door. What followed were sounds of scrambling and claws on wood and soft grumbles. His mouth finally caught the signal from before and formed a smile.

The wolf that opened the door had very obviously just woken up. Legosi wore an old t-shirt that he either outgrew or had shrunk in the wash, exposing his soft, fuzzy stomach. Below he wore a simple pair of briefs. His expression turned from tired to tired-yet-surprised when he realized who was in front of him.

“L-Louis-san? Uh...hi! This isn’t...well it’s not...you...”

Louis simply crossed his arms and let the wolf try and figure out what he wanted to say. He was gesticulating frantically, a trademark of his.

“...s-so you see, I wasn’t expecting company, so I don’t have anything to offer you or...”

Louis decided he had let him suffer long enough. With a raise of his slender hand, he hushed the mutt up. “It’s fine. Can we talk?”

Legosi’s irises dilated slightly. “Sure!” He proceeded to not move.

“...inside?”, Louis suggested.

Defeated, Legosi’s ears wilted slightly. “Okay...” He turned around, and Louis noticed his tail wagging lightly. Legosi could have a good pokerface sometimes, but never a good pokerbutt.

Louis commended himself silently for his little joke.

As Legosi had said, the place was a bit of a mess. What little clothes in his possession laid haphazardly along the floor and across some furniture, as they had likely not been picked up when they had been stripped off the wolf’s body. A recently used futon lay in the corner, and immediately to Louis’s right was a stove, minifridge, and small cabinet. Aside from the small table in the center of the room, that’s all Legosi’s home consisted of.

Louis walked over to the only zabuton by the table and sat upon it, leaving Legosi to stand awkwardly for a moment before he opened the cabinet in the “kitchen” area and pulled out a box of crackers and a paper plate. “It’s fine, Legosi. I’m not hungry.”

“Your stomach is growling.” Legosi looked at him with concern, and Louis attempted to cover up his body.

A few seconds later, the gracious feast was placed on the table, and Legosi sat upon his bed, facing Louis. He looked expectantly at him. Louis grabbed a cracker and nibbled at it.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Louis-san?”

Louis placed the barely eaten cracker down. “Well, I just wanted to check in and see how the training is going.”

Legosi’s ears twitched. “Oh! Well, I think it’s going well. Knowing Kyuu-san trained with Gouhin-san gives us a connection. I still don’t think I can hit her, though...”

Louis wanted to cover his ears and scream. Why did he have to ask that question? It was time to switch gears. “So, this dump, eh?”

Legosi cocked his head, unprepared for the sudden subject change. “Well, it’s about the only place I can afford. I had to get rid of my cell phone to even afford it consistently...”

“So that’s why you never asked for my number? We need an easier way to contact each other.” Louis felt lightheaded as he said this. He reached back for his unfinished cracker.

Legosi stared for a moment. “So, you’ve thought about trying to become a Beastar with me?”

Louis finished the cracker. “Sure. We should at least lay some groundwork, no?” “Well, there’s a landline in the lobby you can contact me with.”

“Alright, old man.”

Louis ate from the plate as the room entered silence. Legosi played with the covers beneath him as he very obviously tried not to stare at Louis’s prosthesis, which was showing from where his pant leg was being pulled up by his sitting position.

“My dad died a week ago.”

Both animals held a shocked expression. Louis covered his mouth and looked away. Legosi was on his hands and knees, but still kept his distance.

“Wh-wh-wh-why didn’t you tell me? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Did you have the funeral already? How did it happen?”

The wolf’s endless questions turned into a buzz in Louis’s ears. He just stared blankly at him, feeling numb.

It took a while before he realized Legosi had stopped talking. “It was a car accident. I had to arrange the funeral and pick up all his business dealings. I’m the CEO of Horns now.” He delivered the information in a monotone voice, trying to distance himself from it.

“I-is that why you look so sick?” Legosi, blunt as always.

“I suppose.”

“You need help! Maybe a doctor! Is anybody helping you? You should have told me!”

Louis stared back, noting how Legosi still positioned himself too far away to make contact. He noted his large hands lifting off the floor a few times, but they always found their way back to their original position. He recalled the first Adler performance when he had woken up in the nurse’s office. Weak and frail. Was that how Legosi was seeing him right now.

The image in his mind shifted. Now they were atop a concrete slab outcropped from a bridge on a cold, winter night. Legosi bleeding heavily. The warm feeling in the deer’s eyes back then returned. The wolf in front of him blurred.

Dammit, what was it about him that brought this disgusting feeling?

Seeing the tears drop from the deer’s face caused Legosi’s arms to raise up farther, and he scootched forward on his knees slightly, but alas, he remained out of reach. Louis stayed planted on the zabuton, crying silently.

“Wh-what should I do, Louis-san? Please, tell me what I should do!” Legosi sounded desperate now, and Louis equally so.

“Wh-what can you do?”, he managed through the tears.

“Yes!”

Louis looked Legosi straight in the eyes, brows furrowing, teeth and fists clenched.

“COMFORT ME, GODDAMMIT!”

Pure surprise washed over Legosi’s face, and Louis buried his own in his hands. It was pointless. Legosi couldn’t be what Louis wanted. What he denied he craved. Every time he stared at his large, carnivore body, he disgustingly felt safety instead of danger. He had continuously tried to deny his affinity for carnivores. It was a spit in the face to the suffering he had endured as a child. At best, he should hold power over carnivores to assert his strength. Protection and affection were desires best left in his subconscious. He needed to leave.

Fortunately, Louis found he couldn’t move. He opened his eyes and now found himself tucked snugly between Legosi’s legs. The wolf sat cross-legged on the futon, enveloping the deer as best he could with his limbs while also being conscious of his antlers. His cold nose pressed onto the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, causing Louis to shiver and grip at the soft, gray fur of his best friend.

The sobbing started. “I-I miss him, Legosi! I miss him so fucking much! I never thought I could miss him this much!”

“I know, Louis-san! It’s okay, I have you! You’re okay!”

Louis choked and gasped. It was amazing, the feeling of Legosi around him. It was something he had unconsciously been desiring ever since that night he and the Shishigumi had found Legosi snooping around in the Black Market. He now understood why he had let that hug go uninterrupted for more than a few seconds. He wouldn’t make the same mistake pf pushing him away this time.

Even if he tried, it would have been fruitless. The wolf had a firm grip on him. If he had been prey, he would have been dead. Louis dragged his snot-filled nose across Legosi’s neck, making pitiful noises. Only Legosi could see this side of him. Just as he had on New Year’s. It was only appropriate.

The light-headedness returned, and Louis saw stars. His arms turned cold as he felt himself go limp.

Louis awoke to the sound of a tea kettle whistling. His head was propped up a bit more than it should have been. The blanket covering him was soft and smelled bad. He looked to his left, and saw Legosi at his oven, pouring hot water into a cup. He perked up when he saw Louis.

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re awake! Here, I have some tea!”

Louis tried to sit up but found he was unable to. Legosi noticed this and went to his side, crouching down and holding the cup down.

Louis stared down at it, feeling the steam on his nose. “I-it’s too hot, Legosi.”

Legosi whined softly and sat down, holding the tiny cup humorously with both of his huge hands. “I got this tea from Sebun-san. She’s my neighbor. She’s taught me a lot about adult living.”

Louis laid his head back as Legosi anxiously rambled. He was well aware of the burden he had placed on the wolf now. But he was selfish, so he tried not to care. The warmth of being held so close returned to his mind. It hadn’t just been a dream. A wall in their relationship crumbled.

“I’ll try that tea now, Legosi.”

“Oh, y-yeah! Sorry.”

The tea tasted bitter, unsurprisingly. Louis never was a fan. He drank down the whole cup, letting the warmth run through him. Not as warm as Legosi had been, sadly.

“You should rest here for the night.” Legosi stood up and went back to the kitchen area, cleaning up. Louis’s eyes followed him, and he noted the rest of the room had been tidied up as well. He felt his heart suddenly hammer in his chest.

“What about you?”

Legosi looked back at his guest. “I can stay at my neighbor Zaguān’s place. He lives a floor above me. It’ll be fine.”

The warmth granted from the tea left Louis’s body. “Legosi.”

He turned to face Louis fully, looking attentive and concerned. “Yes?”

Louis swallowed, and a shaky arm pulled the covers down as he moved his body toward the wall. “Sleep next to me.”

Legosi’s face immediately went flush. “A-ah I-I don’t know if that’s such a good idea!” He was trying to repair the wall they had just worked so hard destroying.

But it was a good thing Louis had accepted the selfish side of himself now. He sat up, willing his eyes to convey all the pleading and want he now felt. He armed his tongue and teeth with a potent weapon. The target: an adorably clueless wolf.

“Please!”

Payload delivered, Legosi stood there speechless. Louis could have sworn he saw tears, but whatever had been there was quickly blinked away. He slowly lumbered over, hands playing with themselves nervously. He towered over the prone deer, mouthing inaudible words.

Louis looked up at him, smiling weakly. “Please...comfort me...”

Legosi dropped to his knees, and he slowly slipped under the covers. Louis felt giddy as the heat radiating off of him made contact with his personal space. He had been so alone the past week. He needed someone. He needed Legosi. He needed the most important animal in his life next to him.

Legosi laid on his side facing him, and Louis turned to do the same. He often forgot just how much bigger this wolf was compared to him, but from that position it was undeniable. He reached down and grabbed one of Legosi’s hands, kneading it with his own. The wolf audibly gulped, sweat forming on his forehead.

“Hey...relax.” Louis still couldn’t believe Legosi could so reliably look pathetic in situations where he held complete control and power. “You’re not gonna eat me again, right?”

Legosi cleared his throat loudly. “I-it’s not that...”

“Then what is it?”

Legosi untangled his hand and folded his arms. “Well...remember what we talked about in the hospital?”

Louis tried to recall. “How you defend herbivores mostly because you’re in love with them? Yes, I remember.” He smiled at the absurdity of it all.

“Well...I mean...you’re an herbivore...and I’m feeling...feeling...”

Now it was Louis’s turn to turn red. He never thought of himself as an herbivore, or rather, he tried not to. But now that he realized it...

Feeling rather bold, Louis lobbied a question: “So, what? You don’t love me, too?”

The riskiness of the question was worth it just to hear the high pitched squeak that escaped the wolf’s mouth.

Louis moved closer to him, unable to control his body now. “After all we’ve been through. Even after saying you want to become Beastar with me and change society to our ideals...you don’t love me?”

Legosi was now blabbering nonsense, still crossing his arms. Louis scowled and reached for them, trying to pry them apart. Eventually, they untangled and Louis inserted himself into them.

“Well, Legosi...”, Louis squirmed, as if his body was fighting the vulnerability it was instinctively showing now. “I can’t think of anybody else I love more than you...”

It was such an obvious statement, but Louis was still shocked that it had left his lips.

Legosi’s strange nonspeak stopped, and Louis could very clearly feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. The arms around him started to hold him with purpose, and his long legs curled forward, catching Louis’s as they entwined.

“L-Louis-san...”

“Yes?”

“I...I do...”

“...what?”

“...love you.”

Not a noise could be heard for a few moments, aside from the cars outside and the pitter pat of rain against the window. Someone downstairs closed a door a bit too loudly.

Louis chuckled. “I love you, Legosi.”

Legosi’s own soft laughter joined the deer’s. “I love you, Louis!”

“I love you, Legosi!”

“I love you, Louis! I love you!”

“I love you!”

The nonsensical back and forth went on for longer than it probably should have, and eventually the enthusiasm and energy in their declarations faltered. Nevertheless, they continued to mumble those same words to each other as they fell asleep embracing each other.

#ok this is a lot longer than i expected #i just really wanted to write something with them at this point in the story #because Louis just can't stop pining for Legosi it seems #beastars

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yourperfectflaws · 4 years

Text

HYDRA’s Pet ; 01

Pairing: James Bunchan Barnes x HYDRA!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic/ Familial)

Series Summary: As HYDRA’s favorite experiment, you were trained to follow orders perfectly. But, when you’re taken from the only home you’d ever known by the Avengers, you find yourself more lost than ever. However, out of all the things that could have happened to you, you’d never expected him to be one of them.

Chapter Summary: Your sexy ass is training a new unit when the Avengers find the base.

Warnings: Includes violence, adult language

Word Count: 1.7k

Author’s Note: It’s good to read the Prologue but I’m gonna try and make the series work without it. (Also this chapter was so goddamn hard to write for some reason) Also bUckY wiLL bE hErE sOoN I ProMiSe!!!

Anything italicized is in Russian (cuz my dumbass don’t speak Russian and I’m not about to use google translate and then put the translations at the end when half of them aren’t even correct it’s just a waste of time and effort)

Prologue // Next Chapter

January 16th, 2017 ; HYDRA Base

Crack!

The loud smack of Juno’s ruler echoes around the rusty training room. You squinted as you sparred with your opponent, a young redheaded girl two doors down from you. She shrieked at the noise, unfamiliar with Juno’s teaching strategies, which gave you an opening.

You closed the gap between the two of you and gave her a swift punch to the cheek. She flew to the side of the ring but got up quickly and you both went back to circling each other. She attempted to throw a punch at you but you blocked it by grabbing her wrist and sending a swift kick to her abdomen.

She cried out and fell to the floor, attempting to scramble back up but you kicked her square in the face to knock her down again. She was conscious but didn’t try to get back up.

Crack!

Juno’s ruler again. She stepped into the ring and gave a small glance to the girl before sizing you up. “Since she isn’t learning from me, maybe she will learn from you.” She pushed your chest as you stood there blankly. She turned away from you and roughly pulled the girl up. “She will be vital to HYDRA’s regime, as you are. Don’t try to make this any more difficult than it is, soldier.”

Juno turned back to you and folded her toned arms over her chest. “If you can’t even teach her the basics then you’ll be put in the chamber.”

You couldn’t help the grimace of fear that streaked onto your face when she mentioned the chamber. It pained you to remember spending time in there. You knew you were forbidden from reading the thoughts of a superior like Juno but you couldn’t help but sense her anger and frustration as she spat in your face.

“I will be back in two hours.” Juno turned to the redheaded girl and sneered. “You will spar again to show me what you have learned, runt.”

You stood still as she left the room, the door groaning as it closed behind her. As soon as she was gone, you relaxed and walked over to the girl, who was shivering in the corner of the ring, and extended your hand to her. She took it hesitantly. Big mistake. You pulled her arm up and around, pushing her to the ground and holding her in place. She shrieked in pain. Her mind was a panic, a jumble of thoughts that were all too easily read.

“I am going to give you rules and you are going to listen.” She nodded her head frantically. Desperation. “Rule one, do not let your guard down. Always be attentive of your opponent. You already failed.”

You let her go and she scrambled away from you, standing up quickly. She held her fists awkwardly in front of her. Feeling her insecurity, you sighed as you sized her up. “You have no balance. You’re skinny, no muscle, and you’re slow. Your posture is horrible and whatever you’re doing right now is completely wrong.”

You marched up to her and pushed her fists in the correct position. “Spread your legs shoulder width, eyes up— you always want to be looking straight at your opponent— and straighten your back and shoulders.” You moved in front of her to examine her stance. It wasn’t perfect but it was better than what she was originally doing. “Now punch me.”

She stared at you for a second, feeling surprised, before throwing the weakest punch you had ever seen at your face. You blocked it and sighed, pushing her fist away. “No, that was weak. Don’t be afraid to hurt your opponent and use all of your strength. Exhale sharply with each punch and drive your elbow rather than your fist into each punch. Try again.”

She made another attempt to punch you, with you blocking it again, and this time it was decent enough to do some damage. You nodded your head. “That was better.” She felt an emotion you couldn’t describe. “This time try moving around and actually hitting me. If you can do that I will give you a water break.”

It takes her a while before she figures out how to fake a punch and she lands one on your shoulder. She smiles at you, filled with pride, and you notice she has a tooth missing. She couldn’t have been more than 13 years old and seemed almost too naive to be working for HYDRA. You roll out your joints before joining her for a much needed water break.

The both of you fall into an awkward silence, neither of you knowing what to say, while hunched over on the ground of the ring. After a while you decide you’d had enough of the silence and ask her for her number.

“Oh, I’m Unit 9813.” She takes another long drink. “You?”

“Project 103.” You scratched your eyebrow. “Taken or raised?”

Images of her family flashed through her mind and a bitter, melancholic feeling crept into yours. She waited a few seconds before responding. “Wait wha—”

BANG!!!

You turned to see the door shaking on its hinges. Out of nowhere, the Commander barged into the room and shouted for attention. Without missing a beat, you stood tall and stiff, waiting for orders, while 9813 rose slowly and shrank into herself. You sensed that she had never met the Commander and felt intimidated.

A look of surprise dawned on his wrinkly face and his icy eyes darted between the two of you. He was not informed of this training session. He cleared his throat and addressed 9813.

“Unit, you may leave. Head to the deck, they’re heading into the tunnels,” he ordered. She saluted in a panic and scurried off.

He turned back to you and you sensed a feeling you couldn’t describe. He then recited the words and everything around you faded into black. You were returned to the familiar darkness of your mind. Though you knew it well, you didn’t like it one bit.

You could see the Commander regarding you with a strange expression as your body waited for instructions. You were in soldier mode now.

“Initiate order 423E7X.”

Your body saluted. “Yes sir.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and walked back towards the door. “Soldier... goodbye for now,” he whispered before leaving.

You were left with nothing but silence and an order. Even though you had no idea what was happening, your body seemed to have everything under control as it marched out of the training room, down the long, dimly lit hallway, and into the general work area. The lights flickered as you stepped among the tools and materials strewn about. It definitely appeared as though they had left in a hurry. You were not looking forward to whatever you were supposed to do.

You watched as you climbed the pipes along the walls and pushed yourself onto the maintenance rafters and waited. Eventually you heard the sound of careful footsteps and hushed voices entering the building.

It wasn’t long before you saw the beams of flashlights as they neared your hiding place. Being in your mind was beginning to feel terrifying and watching the strangers enter the work area sent shivers down your spine.

They were wearing strange outfits and sported weapons you’d never seen before, though somehow something about them seemed oddly familiar. One of them stood by the entryway while the other two quietly searched the room. Then, the one with the red hair looked up to see you sitting there staring at them.

“Umm, guys...”

They shined their flashlights up to you as you sat there looking dejected. One of them gasped and placed his metal hand over his glowing chest.

“Oh shit! She scared the crap out of me.” He bent over and placed his hands on his knees, which made a clink sound, and looked up at his teammates. “Guys, I think I’m gonna need a new suit.” He looked between them, both of whom stared at him unimpressed.

“Hey are you alright, creepy girl?” The other man with the bow asked.

You said nothing and continued to stare down at them.

“Okayyy well we’re going to have to take her with us.” The ginger woman pressed her earpiece. “Hey we found someone.” She continued to notify other members of their team about finding you while one continued sweeping the building and the other climbed up to you.

“Do you speak English?” He asked you as he offered his hand for you to take. You didn’t want to take it but it seemed your body had other ideas.

“No one is here.” Unsurprisingly, your voice sounded robotic and completely different from what it normally was. The blonde man stared at you with pinched brows but lightly chuckled to himself.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You noticed he didn’t have the earpiece that the other two had. He had two and they looked different.

He pulled you against his chest and climbed back down the pipe, gently letting you go once on the ground. In your soldier state, you couldn’t feel his emotions or hear his thoughts, but your “soldier self” could, which was more than frustrating.

You blacked out for a brief period of time and came back to consciousness, still inside your mind, to see yourself fighting the man who had brought you down from your perch.

He shot arrow after arrow at you and the few you managed to dodge were out-healed and slowly came out of your body. You threw tools at him and he was dodging them with the agility of someone who’d been doing it for years.

The other two came back after hearing the commotion and didn’t hesitate to join the fight. “Clint, what happened?” The redhead asked as she caught a wrench you had thrown.

“One second—” he shot another arrow at you, hitting you in your thigh. “—we were all fine and dandy and the next—” he ducked to dodge a screw driver. “—she was throwing shit.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” the metal guy said as he shot a beam of energy at you with his hand. You managed to dodge it before getting hit in the head with a hard object and slumping onto the floor with a dull thump.

----

Please don’t ask how the Commander guy isn’t dead by now, I don’t know either.

Let me know if you liked it and if there is anything I should fix! Have a great day and stay safe!

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

A Stranger in a Crown (part one)

Thanks to my amazing beta readers @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short who came up with the premise for this AU!

Please consider leaving a comment! I work super hard on this

Juno Steel has one night to pick the person who will become his betrothed, one night to pick the person who will save their planet and he will spend the rest of his life with. None of the choices offered appeal to him, he's exhausted with the expectations of being the crown princess.

But there is a potential suitor amongst the crowd that he hasn't met yet.

The only time Juno liked to see his reflection was when it was gazing back at him from the surface of the champagne in his glass.

Then it would always be shifting and changing as the bubbles rose to the top and burst like stars falling to the ground, only played in reverse. Then it would be the colour of old, faded gold. Then it would be small, shrunken down to the circumference of the flute in his hand, looking far enough away to not hurt him.

With such a blurry and indistinct reflection, you could be anyone. It all became so wonderfully hard to pin down. He couldn’t see the too large nose or the scar across the non functioning eye, the scowl or the lines at the corners of everything that told him he’d waited too long. He could pretend he wasn’t looking at Juno Steel at all but someone else, someone with a different life. Even the background became an abstract, watercolour, blotches of cream and gold and silver, pricked through by points of light. Anyone and anywhere. What a dream.

And when he remembered, when reality came crashing back in...well, there was alcohol right there.

“I’ll be watching how many of those you have,” his mother’s voice came from behind him, “Tonight is not the night to disgrace yourself, Juno, too much is riding on your performance.”

Juno set the flute back down, now holding dregs, back amongst its many twins on the table by the door, set so the guests didn’t have to spend a moment at the ball without a drink in their hand. Would that he’d be granted the same courtesy.

“It’s my ball, isn’t it?” Juno muttered, in too much of a dark mood to back down, “I can have one drink.”

His performance. It was that word that had set his hackles up, made him snap back at his mother when he knew the sensible thing would be to bow his head and keep silent, especially when she had that face on.

But it was true, wasn’t it? Tonight was the most choreographed event their tiny outer world had seen in years, more effort had gone into it than a freaking cabaret. And Juno was the star, not that he’d ever auditioned. But so much more was at risk, way more than a bad review, if he put a foot wrong tonight.

“You can have one drink,” his mother narrowed her eyes, that scowl settling into her powdered face and cracking it like a poorly made cake. She’d blame him for that too before the night was out, “One drink, out here. But if I see you so much as reach for a glass when you’re out there, where everyone can see you, after the way you’ve been behaving lately…”

“I know,” Juno said sharply, feeling his cheeks colour, shame burning in his chest, burning the fight in him to black, brittle shards that didn’t have a hope in hell of standing on their own, “I won’t...it won’t be like that.”

“Then prove it,” there was a note of triumph behind her voice, “Stand where you’re supposed to and wait for our cue. Like we actually rehearsed.”

Shoulders feeling heavy, Juno returned to his mother’s side, the enormous silken skirts of his ridiculous gown whispering as he moved, sounding like a hidden audience gleefully gossiping about him. Back in their allotted places, the three of them arrayed in a triangle. Juno and Sarah in front and, just behind, Benzaiten. As soon as Juno was back in place, his brother reached forward and took his hand, giving it a quick squeeze, the only comfort he could give right now. But it was something.

Juno held his fingers tightly in return and wished he dared turn his head to see him smile, the kind of smile that made him believe everything would be okay because Benten would never be far, no matter what happened tonight.

Except now, even that was running on borrowed time. And as that thought entered his mind, his hold on Benten’s hand felt like a desperate grasp, like trying to keep his grip on a rocky shore when the sea was trying to drag him out into fatal depths.

But the tides were moving and nothing could stop them. His mother raised her hand, dripping with gemstones, and attendants began moving at her wordless command. The enormous oaken doors in front of them creaked and began to move, their bulk inching forward. The noise of the party within went from muddy and blurred to clear, the music and voices untangling themselves and becoming separate sounds, the rich golden light flowing into the hallway. It all resolved itself, like a picture on a comms, becoming an enormous ballroom spread out like a tapestry from the balcony they walked out on. The chandeliers, fitted with genuine halogen bulbs, hung like watching spacecraft, illuminating the party attendants below, elaborately dressed lily pads bobbing aimlessly on a lacquered wood pond. It was all enormous, lavish dresses in rich materials, exquisitely embroidered suits and some garments that straddled the line between the two, every single one of them encrusted with jewels like beetles with fabulous carapaces. At the opening of the doors, the musicians paused and the directionless meandering stilled, hands that were reaching for glasses of wine or the tables of delicate canapes quickly returning to sides. All eyes turned upwards and the cameras began to flash.

The herald drew herself up and, rather unnecessarily announced for all to hear, “Her Majesty, Queen Sarah, the Prince Benzaiten and the Crown Princess Juno.”

As if there was anyone in the room, anyone on their entire tiny outer world planet, who didn’t know who they were.

His mother, smiling benevolently with an expression whose falsehood could only be seen from up close, raised her hands in welcome and projected her voice through the ballroom, “I thank each and every one of you for your attendance tonight. Truly, we hope this will be a magnificent night that will change the future of our humble planet and secure a path to bigger and better things for all on Harpyia. With the long awaited selection of a spouse for my heir, your devoted Princess Juno, we will put the war behind us and move forward together. So! Welcome suitors, visitors and Harpyians. Welcome all.”

There was a polite clapping at the end of her pronouncement and more eyes on him, making his skin crawl. He tried to fix a regal smile on his face, like he’d seen his mother do, like he’d been practising in the mirror since he was eight, waiting for it to get easier.

Cameras flashed and there were appreciative murmurings as the party’s attentions fragmented again, dissolving back into little bubbles as the music started up again, flowing seamlessly back together as if there had been no break.

“Now,” Sarah turned and lowered her voice, talking only to her two children though her eyes were fixed on Juno, “You know what I expect. Smiles, light conversation and above all, get them on our side. This is a ballroom full of wolves, my little monsters, and tonight is the only chance we have to turn them into wolves on our side. So charm them, however it takes. And Juno?”

Juno lifted his eye from the floor, already knowing what was coming, “Yes, mother?”

“Pick one,” Sarah said through gritted teeth, “Or I will pick one for you. This is your last chance.”

Pick one, Juno thought miserably. Pick one set of those eyes to have to live with, to own you, to spend the rest of your days hiding from while sharing their bed. Become a china doll, sitting on their mantle. And pick correctly or Harpyia is done for. Our mines are empty, our seas and skies are poisoned, our people are dying, the much larger planets that circle us are watching hungrily, ready to fight over what scraps of meat remain on our bones.

Save the planet. And doom yourself. But for the love of god, do it right.

“Yes mother,” he murmured.

The queen’s words followed Juno on his circuit of smiles and platitudes like the train of his ridiculous gown.

This is a ballroom full of wolves. And he was the bait.

They were all here, he could find their faces in the crowd with very little effort, they stood out like pins pushed into a map. All his suitors. God, he hated that word. And by the time this ball was over, he had to pick one of those pins and follow it, to whatever depressing end.

They went on a sliding scale, these people who were courting him or being forced to court him by parents somehow even more demanding than his own. From very bad ideas all the way down to abominably bad, borderline suicidal ideas.

One of those was eyeing him from across the dancefloor and, when Juno noticed, gave him a smile of the kind a Halloween decoration might give. That was the only kind Cecil Kanagawa was capable of.

The tricky part was that Cecil actually seemed to like Juno, or at least his own twisted version of that. They’d known each other for some time, his mother and father’s kingdom was closest to their own, their planet hanging in Harpyia’s sky like another moon. They’d also eyed the queen’s throne with more hunger than most dared. It was rumour so widely accepted that it wore a fact’s clothes that it was the Kanagawas who had sent the assassin that had almost claimed the Steel twins’ lives when they came of age. Almost. Would have succeeded, too, if Juno hadn’t woken up to see the figure holding the blaster to Ben’s forehead and been stupid enough to launchhimself at them without a second’s thought to call for the guards.

Though the queen had been paralytic with rage, there had never been anything to tie that figure to their neighbours in the sky, and the assassin had become a corpse before they could give up the name of their employer, thanks to the letter opener Juno had shoved through their neck. It was all courtroom gossip, nothing their guard could do to make it solid and graspable.

But still, the hollow socket Juno had been left with after that night always ached when he looked at Cecil.

Juno quickly stepped into a circle of the rich merchants who ran the banks of their capital city, subjecting himself to the most boring and vaguely sickening conversation just to get away from those eyes and that smile, the deranged potential future husband standing across the room, dressed like a murderous peacock.

The men, whose names Juno really should have known but couldn’t extend the mental effort to track them down, acknowledged him politely and congratulated him on his upcoming betrothal but immediately dismissed him afterwards. Juno was used to that, most of the queen’s important subjects, those who sat her various councils, saw him as less of a son and more of a colourful pet who’d been perched on her shoulder since he was born. Good for generating interesting gossip and very little else. It had always been the same, ever since he’d started shadowing the queen. They still looked at him like he was a prettily dressed toddler, made to be cooed over and complimented and indulged with gifts but nothing more.

Juno would wonder how his mother ever expected him to rule them after her death and then remember, depressingly, that of course she didn’t. She expected his spouse to do that.

He’d proven he couldn’t be trusted.

Speaking of which, the bankers were all well into their cups, carelessly dripping wine worth more than most of their workers would see in their lives onto the floor as they guffawed over their own cleverness. The smell of it, acrid and heady and so goddamn tempting, made the constant, prickling thirst in the back of Juno’s throat flare up even worse. He excused himself politely and quickly, to none of their notice.

Juno went into autopilot for a while, circling through a seemingly never ending parade of half familiar faces and identical conversations of no substance, fake smiles and laughs like puffs of cotton candy, sugary with nothing inside. While his facial muscles moved, his eyes scanned the room for Benten, catching glimpses of him occasionally, as ensnared in the net as he was. He knew tonight was too important for any of their games but it was still some small comfort to know his brother was just over there, going through the exact same hell he was.

After a while of this, his mind wandering behind his mask, a voice far closer and far more aware startled Juno into something more like being awake.

“Having fun, Your Majesty?”

Juno turned to see a smiling, well lined face, a sharp suit, a simple cocktail held lightly in one hand.

“Jack,” Juno relaxed a little, turning to face him so the two of them were a little ways apart by the table of desserts, as private as two people could be at a function like this, “Not exactly.”

“I can tell, son,” Lord Takano- Jack to Juno and Ben since they were little kids- chuckled wryly. He must have seen the panic in Juno’s eye for he quickly added, “Only because I know you. Your mother will be none the wiser, you’re the image of a perfect princess.”

Juno gave a mirthless laugh at the irony of that, hand reaching automatically for a glass of champagne before drawing back, “Yipee for me.”

Jack’s seamed face softened in sympathy, “I know, kiddo. I know this night isn’t your idea and, believe me, your mother and I did everything we could to try and find another way…”

Juno didn’t doubt that. Lord Takano was the queen’s closest advisor and had been for as long as either of the twins could remember. He’d been by her side all through the war and had been the loudest, firmest voice in setting Harpyia back on its feet in the aftermath. Juno, also stuck in those seemingly endless, seemingly depressing meetings, was always glad that Jack was there. He was sometimes the only person in the room that spoke sense, with the way he always put the people of their planet first and prioritised things that seemed actually important like schools, healthcare and housing. On the very rare occasions Juno was allowed to open his mouth in those sessions, what came out was usually an agreement with whatever Jack had said. That often earned him a warm smile from the lord himself and a look from the queen that was hard to parse.

“I know you did,” Juno grunted, not meaning you both.

Jack’s smile turned fond, the kind Juno imagined from streams and stories that parents were supposed to look at their children, “I know you’ll do what’s right, kiddo. The whole planet’s proud of you.”

Juno thought viciously that he didn’t care about the planet being proud of him. He’d have settled for just one person on it in particular. Then he felt horribly guilty and chastised himself, turning his eye to the floor.

“Hey,” Jack gave him a smile, leaning in and opening one side of his jacket, pulling out an elaborately carved silver flask, and passing it to Juno, “Our little secret, eh? Your mother doesn’t have to know.”

Juno hesitated but after his eye glanced up to Jack’s, seeing warmth and the knowingness that he’d always respected, the one that had always reassured him, he reached out and took a lightning fast swig, chasing it with another. He didn’t even know what it was but it had a foggy burn to it that made him not care. It put some distance between him and the room.

“Thanks,” Juno returned it, feeling the loss as he made his fingers uncurl, “I needed that.”

“I’m your mother’s advisor and one day, god willing, I’ll be yours,” Jack grinned, “I’m very well practised at giving you Steels what you need. What do I always say, after all? It’s a fact…”

“I can count on Jack,” Juno finished, feeling a little silly parroting their childish mantra but it made him smile, “I’d better get back out there…”

“Of course,” Jack nodded, “Sensible, Juno, as always. Best of luck, kiddo.”

Juno gave a grunt that could have been a laugh in the right light, moving away with a macaron in hand in case anyone might wonder what they’d been doing over there for so long. Jack’s words echoed in his mind like they were a part of the thrumming music filling the ballroom.

Juno didn’t need luck. If he had a scrap of that, there would be some fantastical deus ex machina that would swoop in and pluck him out of this situation, freeing him from the current that was dragging him into a future he didn’t want, snipping the strands of the spider web that was holding him. And somehow manage it without dooming his planet to being pulled apart by greedy kingdoms or more war and splintering his family into the bargain. The best of luck would give him that, what he wanted but knew he couldn’t need.

Juno swallowed the lump in his throat and plunged back into the crowds, clinging to the taste of whatever had been in that flask.

“You’re dragging your feet, little monster.”

That was the only thing the queen said to him, whispered in a hiss to his left ear as she passed him by to another gaggle of cortiers, to smile graciously and tell them how proud she was of her dear princess.

And she was right, Juno knew that. They were an hour in and he hadn’t approached one of his suitors. In fact, he’d been actively circling away from any of them that came near, feeling like a pinball in one of those old arcade games, bounced from side to side in a colourful contraption, an instant away from getting hurtled off course at any moment. The ball was likely to last into the small, grey tinged hours of the morning, when the decorations had wilted to loose petals and the hangings pooling on the floor, but every moment counted tonight. And Juno was deliberately wasting those moments.

He stifled a sigh and tried to take stock of his options. Cecil was dancing with his twin sister, the two of them looking eerily beautiful and eerily identical. Marrying Cassandra wouldn’t have been so bad, Juno supposed, she didn’t have the sadistic streak her brother did. Just the baseline narcissism, psychosis and ruthlessness that came standard amongst the Kanagawas. If not for those five minutes that made Cecil the oldest and by law the heir to everything that came with the surname. Juno knew damn well how scant minutes between births could cause a hell of a lot of trouble.

Not that their stepmother wasn’t keeping her options open. Juno couldn’t help but notice she’d been sending Cassandra in his direction at previous balls similar to this one, going so far as to somehow get them locked in a closet together the last time he’d been forced into a stiff, awkward diplomatic meeting at their palace. Juno’s panic attack had soured the seven minutes in heaven mood somewhat, at least Cassandra had been apologetic.

There were a few more in the line up,l heirs from neighbouring planets rendered as exhausted by this life as Juno himself. Most of them with blank eyes, the telltale sign of normalcy being a paper thin mask, the person behind it just waiting for the next fix of whatever they drank, injected or snorted to help them put one foot in front of the other.

Juno knew far too much about that. Looking at them, picking out faces he knew from parties the queen certainly hadn’t sanctioned that he'd had to slip out of the castle to attend, Juno felt old guilt and shame stirring in his stomach. Suddenly the hard won distance he’d put between himself and his demons didn’t feel like all that far. It felt like it could be covered in a single step, every inch he’d struggled for could be lost so easily.

So Juno kept his distance from them as well.

Which left him with one option. The only option he knew he could never take.

“We should, uh, probably go dance, huh?”

He’d finally tracked him down when he was standing by the band, swaying lightly to the music. They were finally playing a song he liked. His own damn ball and they didn’t even let him choose the music.

Juno gave him a tired, wayn smile but nothing in it said he wasn’t happy to see him.

“I think we’d better. Nice to see you, Lord Mercury.”

Mick pulled a face, shifting from one foot to the other, “C’mon, cut it out or I’m going to call you ‘your majesty’ all night.”

“Don’t you dare,” Juno grunted, taking his hand and walking with him into the middle of the floor.

Juno could remember when he, Mick and Ben had all been of a height, before they selfishly grew when he didn’t and left him behind. Now he had to crane his neck to look into his eyes.

Bartholomew Mercury had grown in a lot of ways, since the three of them and the captain of the guard’s daughters had been best friends, playing in the gardens around the palace. The sudden loss of his father in the war, propelling him into suddenly being the head of the biggest, most powerful family on Harpyia at just twelve years old, now having to manage his family’s finances, their power and having to awkwardly court his best friend at the insisting of his board members, it had changed him. He wasn’t the kid who’d told his stories about the dangerous and fantastical and heroic exploits his father was surely getting up to on the battlefield, all of them enraptured.

In a perfect world, Mick would be the answer to all of Juno’s problems. A good, rich family with Harpyia’s best interests as their motivators, plenty of creds to refill their lacking coffers, a long standing reputation for loyalty and patriotism. They wouldn’t need to sell themselves to a bigger planet, they could build themselves stronger from within. And Mick had a good heart, if Juno could be selfish for a moment and want that in his spouse. He was a goof and lived with his head in some story he’d made up himself but he could make Juno laugh and they cared about each other, still in the fierce, unbreakable way that children did.

It would have been perfect. If Mick had the good sense to fall in love with the right twin.

It had been the little things, at first. The way Ben had looked at Mick as he’d tell his stories, like the rest of the world had fallen away apart from him. It was the way Mick would make excuses to sit in at the end of Ben’s dance lessons and watch with much the same expression. It had been annoying at first, when Juno was too young to know what it all really meant, just a way his best friends were excluding him. It had been hard, realising that there was someone his twin needed more than him, but Juno had quickly made it part of his job in their late teens. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d distracted some servant or even the queen, knowing Ben and Mick were in some compromising position behind the twins’ bedroom door.

That was back when it had been fun and games, just two young nobles feeling stifled by their lives and finding some small joy in each other, spiced with rebellion. Him and Juno swapping clothes in the middle of parties to give them an excuse to cuddle up, Mick stealing up through their bedroom window on nights where Juno made damn sure to ‘accidentally’ fall asleep in one of the guest rooms.

And then the time for games had run out, the reality they’d all been ignoring coming collapsing back in on them when Juno had come of age, half an hour before Benzaiten. Such a small amount of time to make so much difference.

But Juno still did everything he could to give the two their time together. It was the least he could do, after all.

Even now he could see Mick’s eyes looking past Juno’s face, snagging on something in the background while they chatted mildly, joshing each other back and forth. When they spinned with the swell in the music, Juno saw exactly what he expected to. His brother, standing and watching them, not at all listening to the socialite he was supposed to be talking to. His expression broke Juno’s heart clean in two. Soft and sad and miles away. And accepting.

If Juno asked, he knew Ben would say yes. He’d tried to start the conversation a few times, in that fuzzy hour as they both fell asleep in the beds they insisted on keeping no more than a few meters apart. But Juno had stopped him every time, sharper than he’d meant to but he just couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear his little brother, his bright, smiling brother who’d gotten him through the worst years of his life and deserved only good things, he couldn’t hear him, out loud, give up the man he loved, had loved since they were ten, to keep Juno safe.

Because Juno didn’t want to feel the part of him that would long to let it happen.

“Mick, go dance with my brother already,” Juno let his arms fall as the song faded, speaking below the babble of the voices around them, “You’ve done your time.”

Mick bit his lip, a very unlordly habit he’d not been able to shake, “Aw Jay, you know it isn’t like that…”

“I know what it’s like,” Juno shook his head, straightening Mick’s tie where he hadn’t got the knot quite right, “It’s okay...just make it last for him, yeah?”

Mick swallowed a sigh and kissed the back of Juno’s hand, “I will.”

Juno found another partner within a minute, he was the belle of the ball as it were. But, as cruel as he felt, his eyes never stayed on their face for more than a moment because they were watching Lord Mercury and the prince share their dance. It was known throughout the court that they were boyhood friends, of course it was only natural that they should dance together, laughing and smiling as two young men at a party would.

Only Juno saw how Mick’s hand would brush Benten’s cheek as they moved between holds, over the scar there from when he’d fallen from one of the curtain walls on a dare. He saw how Benten’s long, graceful fingers played with Mick’s dreads as they swayed. He saw the myriad of subtle, tender gestures that were all that they could give each other even when they were so close, hearts beating side by side. It was beautiful and tragic all at once.

Juno watched, seeing what everyone else missed, even with one eye less than everyone else in the room.

A dance could last a lifetime, if you lied to yourself enough.

An hour shy of midnight. The ball was still in full swing, no self respecting noble dared yawn before it was technically the next day. The drinks kept being refilled, the plates of tiny desserts replenished themselves whenever you looked away, like fairies were working behind the scenes to keep the tableau as exquisitely crafted as anything from a stream or, hell, even a child’s picture book. This was a marathon of decadence, not a sprint.

Decadence Juno knew full well Harpyia couldn’t afford. Every meringue done up to look like a perfect cloud, every drop of wine rich as summer, was more gold that didn’t exist in the vaults. The queen may expect him to sleepwalk through the council meetings but Juno had long ago perfected the art of looking utterly bored while his eye missed nothing. Splendour was expensive but not nearly so much as war. The system wide conflict, the one that barely had anything to do with any soul on Harpyia, had taken great, greedy bites out of their creds, their resources, their populace. Larger planets with more corrupt governance could bear it quite easily but Harpyia was outer rim which meant small, beautiful and fragile. Not that this was spoken about, certainly not outside of the council chamber, but Juno could pick from the crowd who was really in the know by the vaguest hint of anxiety behind every sip of wine and every bite.

And in the way they looked at him, the formerly wayward princess who was going to save them all by lying down, opening his legs and keeping his mouth shut. As the night wore on, the jewellery that had been laid out beside his dress that evening, the bangles and cuffed earrings and strings of gold around his neck, started to feel like chains under those glances. The tiara, the one the eldest Steel child had been wearing for centuries, felt like a cage around his head. They could almost have been dragging on the floor as he tried to stand to the side and take a breath. Long, golden chains arching up into the ceiling and disappearing into shadows, someone unseen at the other end. His mother, the queen, the two sides of Sarah Steel that he often forgot was one person? Lord Takano, with his confidential smiles, playing at being his father from a safe distance, always with a flask on hand? The centuries of Steels who had come before him, all wearing that damned tiara, stretching back to when Harpyia was just a rock floating in space, content never to know the touch of human feet on its surface?

Or someone beyond even them?

Suddenly, all too fast, it was hard to breathe. Juno cursed silently, taking a seat on one of the long, satin pillowed benches that edged the hall. He bent his head as low as he could, under the guise of fixing a heel on his shoe, trying to breathe slowly.

Why did it have to happen like this, hitting him like a brick wall so he had no chance, like a sudden current grabbing his ankle and yanking him below the surface. It had always been like this when he would drink, feeling so loose and free one instant and his heart hammering against his ribs the next. Like he’d just stumbled wrong and fallen badly but there was no steadying himself.

Benten, where was Ben? Juno didn’t dare lift his head to look, just in case someone saw the panic on his face, the tears building in his eye. He couldn’t let them see, that would be the worst thing he could imagine, worse than if he’d drank three bottles of champagne himself and danced on the band’s stage. The off the rails princess narrative had been at least acceptable when he was younger, at least it had entertained the gossip streams for a while, but if any of them saw the very real cracks behind the dresses and the lipstick, the scars they couldn’t spin or monetize, then they would really be in trouble.

They’re all counting on you, he tried to tell himself to force himself to calm down, Ben, Mother, Jack, they’re all counting on you, all of them.

But it only made his lungs clench harder.

Juno could feel shadows creeping in around his already tilted vision, a taste like the gin in Jack’s flask but sharper, more metallic. He’d tried to sit apart but soon they’d hear, they’d hear his ragged breathing, whistling between his clenched teeth. They’d hear and they’d see and they’d know and everything would come crumbling down, everything he said he was caving in on itself like spun sugar. Pretty, sweet and utterly useless.

They’re counting on you, on you and if you mess up, if you ruin it, when you ruin it…

“Ma’am? Excuse me, are you alright?”

Juno thought he’d imagined it at first, how could there be a voice he didn’t know at this party? They were all the queen’s courtiers and servants, people he’d known all his life, suitors who had been circling since he came of age. How could there be a single voice he couldn’t place? A queen must know her subjects, he’d always been told that, he was good with faces and voices and names.

Juno looked up, remembering too late that he couldn’t let anyone see him like this, whether he knew their voice or not. But his face was so kind, too kind to look away, the way you couldn’t look away from a fire when you were cold down to your bones. He was young, Juno’s age, his eyes bright and alive in a way no noble born kid’s had ever been, his hair dark and looking impossibly soft. And he was smiling, gently curious, gently worried.

“Are you alright?” he prompted again, his voice softly accented in a way Juno couldn’t place.

“Yes,” Juno said quickly, realising how unconvincing it sounded, “Thank you, just…”

What could he say? Tired? Desperate for a drink? Ready to rip this ridiculous dress off at the skirt so his legs were free to run?

“Overwhelmed?” the man provided gently, lifting an eyebrow.

Juno swallowed hard but there was no judgement in the stranger’s gaze, “Yes...I suppose that would do.”

“We could step outside for a moment?” he offered, “Get some fresh air? It’s rather a lot in here, I do agree.”

Juno frowned, trying to make sense of this with his already exhausted mind. Didn’t he know? How was that even possible, how did anyone set foot on the palace grounds, hell on this planet, and not know who he was?

“I don’t know…”

His eye darted around the ballroom, quickly, not wanting to catch the attention of anyone else. The queen was dancing with Lord Takano, their faces warm with old friendship but Juno could tell at a glance they were in some kind of disagreement behind those smiles, a silent argument was taking place. They’d been fighting a lot lately. Benzaiten was carrying two drinks over to where Lord Mercury stood, chatting away to Sasha with his usual goofy smile, Sasha probably in the middle of exasperatedly explaining that she was supposed to be on duty tonight and couldn’t stop to chat. Cecil Kanagawa was talking to a pretty socialite whose expression was falling into poorly concealed disgust and fright at the exact same rate as he grew more animated and enthused.

He wouldn’t be missed for a minute. Just a minute, to breathe and settle himself again. Already he amassed excuses for the queen. He was preventing a bigger disaster, he was in the bathroom, he was integrating himself with this stranger, hadn’t she told him to win people to their side?

“You have some lovely gardens around this palace,” the man in question smiled, “Perhaps you’d like to show me them? If you have the time of course. I would hate to keep such a beautiful lady from his admirers.”

Juno felt his cheeks get hot at that, in a pleasant way. This man was exactly the type of person he’d try and snag at a party back in the day, tall and well dressed and a sharp smile. He’d been denied every other small pleasure tonight, every escape, why let them take this one too?

And he liked a mystery.

“I’d be happy to,” Juno stood before he could change his mind, making his stranger quickly straighten and step back, though not too far, “Just for a moment.”

He smiled, showing teeth that were more pointed than could be natural. Was he a journalist, new enough on the scene that he wasn’t included in Sasha’s dossiers yet? He certainly had the smile of someone who knew more than they should.

Juno took the offered arm, feeling very expensive silk with costly detailed embroidery. Far too nice for a gossip hungry shutterbug. He made for the large door but Juno shook his head silently and wove them a different way, one where they were less likely to be seen, slipping out from behind a curtain into a library, through the stacks to a much simpler iron door that led right out into the topiary.

“An impressive disappearance, ma’am,” the man smiled crookedly, eyes twinkling now there was moonlight to be caught in them, “Have I made off with tonight’s entertainment? The best magician in the solar system?”

He did know, Juno decided, smirking. But he was happy to play along, things would be so much easier if they were both strangers.

“Perhaps you have,” he shrugged, making his jewellery ring loud in the empty garden, “You should be flattered, I don’t often perform for private audiences.”

“Oh, my dear,” there was that smile again, sharp and almost hungry, “Just having you out here with me is flattering.”

Whoever he was, he flirted better than anyone Juno had ever met. His cheeks were getting warmer by the second.

He did show him the gardens, they were something of a pride of the palace, it was boasted that they were the only gardens even more beautiful by night than by day. The flowers that grew here were all native to Harpyia, carrying the natural bioluminescence that seemed inherent to their flora. The glow on their bare skin shifted between blue, green, pale yellow and a starlight white as they moved between the beds that hugged the winding paths. The scent was light, not overwhelming but pervasive, it would cling to their skin for hours after. Juno told him everything he remembered about them, everything he’d read in a book or picked up by osmosis when he was running through them carelessly as a child, bothering the gardeners.

“Incredible…” his stranger breathed, the awe on his face clearly not an act.

“Wow,” Juno chuckled, “You really aren’t from here, are you?”

The smile that won him made the hair on his arms stand up, “I’m from nowhere, my dear. And this planet certainly isn’t nowhere.”

“No,” Juno agreed, eye flickering back to the facade of the palace, sharply lit by flood lights so the soft biological glow didn’t touch it, “No, it isn’t.”

He felt his stranger’s eyes on him, like he could tease out what was behind those words with a glance.

Juno quickly cleared his throat and pinned his smile back into place, “There’s a little grove just up here, it’s a nice place to sit.”

“Lead the way, my dear.”

It was a cosy, secluded area and the stranger certainly wasn’t the first pretty face Juno had brought there. It was all encased in a grand, natural archway of the climbing, ivy like plant of blue glowing leaves with five points like how a child would imagine the stars. The butterflies that made Harpyia famous would nest here more that anywhere else in the garden, wanting the shade and the peace as much as their princess seemed to. Sitting on the ivory bench at it’s centre had always made Juno feel like a decorative bird in one of those grand, old fashioned cages. Especially now, in this get up with all the gold and gems and the flowing skirts and the attachment at the back that was basically a cape for fancy people.

“Beautiful,” the stranger murmured, again unable to hide how genuine his delight was.

Juno had to admit it was nice to see Harpyia through his dark eyes, not in the least because it gave him an excuse to look at them. But it reminded him that there were beautiful things about this palace and that helped his lungs open up and his heart slow down.

“We have a folk tale,” he explained, voice soft in the dim light, “It says the butterflies are gifts from an ancient king to make our planet beautiful and our people happy.”

“I can see why,” the stranger smiled, turning to look at him.

Juno realised he wore very little jewellery, just a simple cuff and chain on one ear and a bracelet of large links on one wrist. His clothing was expensive but the ornamentation was minimal, far more than a grand ball at the palace would expect. What made him seem so sure, so confident, more of a lord than anyone else on that dancefloor, was all in his face. Not in the paint on his lips or kohl on his eyes, it was in the way he carried himself. The way he smiled. Like he knew exactly where he was and where he needed to go after this moment.

Juno was so gripped with envy that, for a moment, he could taste it.

“What do I call you?” he asked, that instant of sourness making him want to press more, “I can’t very well keep calling you the stranger from nowhere.”

“Why not?” his companion smiled, “It has a certain mysterious ring to it... but I see your point. Call me Rex Glass, my dear, and we shall get along just fine.”

“Rex, huh?” Juno arched his eyebrow at that, not believing for a moment that it was the name he was born with, “What does that mean?”

He smiled knowingly, “Not all names have histories stretching back centuries. Some names are just sounds. Signifiers.”

Juno gave a grunt of assent, turning his eye up to the canopy of flowers. The night sky could just barely be seen through them, patches in a quilt. Scatterings of tiny dots that could be raging balls of gas or long dead rocks shrouded in deadly cloaks of radiation or even other planets where other people went about their lives and made their own choices. They all had names, names they’d been given or names they’d chosen themselves. Some names would have history, but a softer, kinder, familial history that didn’t feel like a weight around their necks. A name that wasn’t a prize others competed for. A name that wouldn’t mean they had to sell themselves in a wash of pomp and luxury, calling it tradition.

“Dear? Are you sure you’re alright?”

The tear had reached his jaw before Juno even realised it was there. He struggled with feeling things around his eyes sometimes, remnants of the old damage.

“Yeah,” Juno quickly wiped it away before it could beckon friends, “Just...what was the word you used, Rex? Overwhelmed? That’s it.”

“I must admit,” he seemed to be choosing his words carefully, “I’ve never had a ballroom full of people force me to get engaged. But it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to see it would be unpleasant. And overwhelming.”

“Not pretending you don’t know me anymore, huh?” Juno smiled sadly, mourning quietly for his false anonymity.

“I don’t know you,” Rex insisted, “Knowing your name and knowing you’re a princess does not equal knowing who you are, knowing your heart.”

Juno looked over at him, confused by that at first, the way you would be if something you’d always wanted to hear had just been plucked from your mind and said aloud. You’d feel a guilty responsibility for its presence in the real world.

“What if that’s the only good thing about me?” Juno joked thinly, trying to throw up the same shields he always had, only now seeing how thin they were, “The only thing people could now and still tolerate me?”

Rex frowned a little, “I don’t think that’s true, Juno Steel. Not from what I’ve seen in only half an hour.”

“We’ve been out here for half an hour?” Juno nearly shrieked, latching onto that because it was easier than everything else, “The queen’s going to kill me, she’ll have noticed by now…how does she not have half the guard out looking for me…”

Rex had a soft expression of regret as he put a hand on Juno’s shoulder, the touch warmer than it ought to be in the cool night air, “You can go back if you’d like, Juno, but I mean it. I think the only reason you worry there’s nothing to you other than your crown is because no one’s ever really asked. But I’m here, I’m asking. I want to know.”

Juno felt like a light had come on above the surface of the water he was submerged in, finally showing him which way to kick. But could he reach it? Did he have the energy to try?

But it would be nice to pretend.

Intending it just to last a moment, Juno leaned in, inviting Rex to come the rest of the way. And he did, eagerly enough to make his heart kick. His lips were as soft as he’d thought they’d be from the moment he saw them and he found himself hoping there’d be a trace of his lipstick lingering when he moved away. Which he should have done by now. That had been the plan, a brief, sweet thing he could think about later when he was in bed, then run back to the ballroom and do everything he could do to calm the storm that would be waiting for him.

But it was so nice. It was so achingly sweet and simple in a way nothing had been for as long as Juno could remember. Rex kissed him like nothing else would ever be as important, like there were no unanswered questions between them, like this pure delight could go on and on forever even after the kiss had to end.

Juno leaned closer, bringing a hand up to rest lightly on Rex’s cheek, thumb stroking against those sharp cheekbones. Rex’s hands moved in answer, one hand slipping around Juno’s waist, pulled tight by the corset of his dress, hand splaying over the curve of him under the billowing silk, drawing him close. The shrinking, unoccupied part of Juno’s mind noted that this was moving beyond the realm of chaste kisses in the garden, edging up the royal scale of scandalousness if anyone stumbled upon them. But he found it very hard to care, especially when Rex moaned and those sharp teeth grazed Juno’s lower lip, when he pulled him close until their chests were pressed flush against each other, silk whispering against silk.

Juno smirked against his stranger’s lips. So he wouldn’t be the only one in trouble.

Eventually they had to stop, both panting, noses close enough the bump into each other, making them giggle breathlessly.

“My, my,” Rex exhaled and his breath smelled of mint, “I believe my first guess was correct. You, my dear, are simply magic.”

Juno grinned, not moving away just yet, heart beating in his chest like bird wings, “Now who’s flattering?”

Rex laughed, the hand on his ass squeezing lightly, shamelessly, “Always me. Was that enough to convince you to stay, dear heart? Now I want to know you even more…”

“Well you can’t stick around too long either,” Juno murmured, resting his forehead against Glass’s, “Not with half of the queen’s jewellery box in those hidden pockets of yours.”

Juno had to admit, for someone who’d been underestimated almost consistently since he could walk, it was damn satisfying to feel Rex Glass stiffen in shock against him.

“Ah…” his voice was surprisingly smooth, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear…”

Juno chuckled dryly and slipped his hand into Rex’s jacket. It was pretty clever and could only be handmade, sewn so cunningly you’d never know what was there. Unless he was pulling you close and kissing you.

Juno didn’t recognise the necklace he withdrew, the queen had so many jewels it would have been impossible to keep track of them all. But all of them would have that gold seal pressed into them, on the latch or the chain or even worked into the design for the days she was feeling ostentatious. On this one it was small, set into one of the pearls, the butterfly that was the crest of their house.

“Not exactly the wisest move,” Juno hummed, drawing away and passing the necklace through his fingers, toying with it the way the queen had let them do when they were toddlers. On her good days at least, “Unless you’re taking them far off planet where someone won’t know that symbol. Or if you’re gonna melt them down. Which one were you planning?”

Rex did seem to be a gentleman through and through, accepting graciously when he was caught out, “Both, actually. I was going to take them into the Solar planets and break them into smaller pieces that could then be passed off as antiques.”

“Smart,” Juno nodded, “I mean, you’d have to be. I know how good our security is, one of my best friends works in it and I do listen in all those meetings the queen thinks I sleepwalk through. How did you come up with an ID good enough to fool our systems?”

He smiled then, “Well, I’m hardly going to reveal all my secrets on the first date, am I?”

“Cute,” Juno grunted, handing him back the necklace, hands shaking softly as he did so, “I guess you were going to go for the crown jewels next, huh? They’re on display in the ballroom. Taking them in front of all those eyes should be a breeze for you, Rex.”

“I wouldn’t blame your guard so harshly,” he allowed, “This night has been a long time in the works. Though…” he looked down at the necklace, “I fear you’ve lost me?”

“You think I’m gonna stop you?” Juno arched an eyebrow, feeling acid in the back of his throat, “My mother has enough jewellery on her person right now to feed every hungry child in our capital, let alone what’s in her bedroom. And those crown jewels? Stolen centuries ago from the indigenous aliens that lived here before it was settled. They’re not ours. I couldn’t care less whether you take them.”

Rex was clearly deciding whether or not to believe him, clearly he wasn’t used to his plans going awry but was trying to make the best of things.

And Juno couldn’t stop now, the words were coming out like oil bubbling up from beneath the ground, “It’s all a big fucking game, isn’t it? Let’s play at being kings and queens like all the old Earth storybooks, making the exact same mistakes they made without even tasting the irony. Let’s dress up our princess, paste make up over his scars, paint over his depression with gold and silk and trot him out for the highest bidder so we can scrape together just enough to refill our vaults so we can keep on getting gout, stabbing each other in the back and looking the other way while our children overdose on designer drugs just to feel alive, for another hundred years. And then maybe, just maybe, he gets to grow up and sit in the big fancy chair, looking beautiful and wondering where his humanity went, just like me.”

His voice, cracking with anger and guilt and despair he hadn’t realised was building up, echoed off the shining faux stars that arched above them, making them shudder slightly, as if in grief. The butterflies shifted and stirred, wings fluttering in fear. But the words went no further, thankfully caught in the greenery. The flowers would keep safe his truths, the ones he’d never dared say out loud.

“Juno…” Rex murmured, he hadn’t taken his arm from around his waist, “Juno, dear, it’s alright…”

Juno gave a bitter laugh and shook his head, not even knowing where to start with how wrong he was. He reached up and took the tiara from his hair, the spun gold and otherworldly diamonds tugging painfully as if they were trying to cling on. But he got them free.

“Here,” he muttered bleakly, holding it out to Rex, “Take this too. I mean, you were probably planning on it anyway. I guess that’s why you took me out here, to flirt and flatter the gullible princess and rob him blind while he was still reeling? Not bad. You are a clever thief.”

“Juno,” Rex breathed, not moving to take the tiara, “I know I have no right to ask you to believe a word I say but, please. That is not why I approached you. I brought you out here because you looked like you needed it and...and I wanted to help. I know that sounds completely preposterous coming from me but it’s the truth. And, if it’s any proof to you at all, I will not take your tiara.”

It was the truth. Juno had spent enough of his time around people built entirely out of falsehoods to know that taste of something real, the way the water would taste slightly different on another planet or the air felt fresher after rain.

“You might as well,” Juno didn’t pull back his hand, “I hate the damn thing. Consider it a gift.”

Rex sighed softly and looked from side to side. Something in his face had changed, Juno realised, something subtle and hard to pin down but he could see it now in this light. He looked less sure of himself, wary, odd that he hadn’t up until now when he was planning one of the most ambitious jewel heists in Harpyia’s history.

But now he looked like he was taking a real risk.

“How about this…” Rex put his hands gently over Juno’s and took the tiara. He moved away and placed it between them on the bench where it shone with the bioluminescence, “Let us say I did mean to take this beautiful piece from you but, rendered careless by your beauty and that wonderful kiss we shared, I forgot it here. Now…if it is still here in an hour, when I realise my foolish error, I will take it back and steal away, never to be seen again on Harpyia.”

Juno nodded, biting his lip.

“However,” Rex lifted his eyes to Juno’s, “Say you find it first and take it back with you. I cannot leave this planet without such a lovely thing, of course I can’t. If it was gone then...I’d have to come back for it another night, wouldn’t I? And...on that night, maybe I would steal something far more valuable. If he wished to be stolen, of course.”

Juno inhaled in the softest gasp as he realised what Rex was saying, what he was suggesting, “Rex…”

“Don’t call me that,” he pleaded gently, rising up, “Not now. Call me...call me Peter Nureyev. An orphan from a small, battered planet much like this one who is trying to make something of himself. And who would gladly take on a partner.”

“Peter Nureyev,” Juno murmured, to feel the words on his lips. That was his real name, there was no doubt about it. He suddenly felt as if he’d been given a very precious gift.

The stranger, this Peter Nureyev smiled and bowed his head slightly, “Juno Steel. I am an expert on disappearances and I am offering you a ticket on one. I understand what you’d be leaving behind and I understand if the consequences are too great. But...I want you to see what you are worthy of, Juno. I want you to watch as someone truly sees you, for everything you are beneath that crown, and wants this for you.”

“I...I don’t know if I can…” Juno felt old excuses, old fears press up his throat, “And there’s no time, I’m supposed to be betrothed by the end of the night…”

“Then don’t take it, dear,” Nureyev said gently, “This is a choice. I feel it’s high time you got one of those.”

A choice. A chance to choose another one of those faces he saw at the bottom of his champagne glass. A chance to wear a name as lightly as Peter Nureyev did, to feel so free. To not feel the golden fetters around his ankles, tugging him into a life he didn’t want.

At such a high price.

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured, wiping away the last of his tears.

Nureyev nodded and smiled, leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips before saying, “Then goodnight, Juno Steel.”

Juno breathed in the scent of other planets, the scent of fresh, clean air and rain speckled earth, “Goodnight, Peter Nureyev.”

He straightened up, flashed those fox-like teeth and walked away into the shadows of the garden. Juno felt a flash of worry for him, there were guards all around the palace but he told himself he would have a plan to escape. Of course he would.

And he had left Juno with one too.

He lingered in the garden far longer than he should have, looking at his tiara, resting slightly crookedly on the bench, looking fragile and beautiful. He sat until goosebumps rose on his bare arms, possibilities blooming and dying behind his eyes, a hundred arguments raging inside his head.

And then he heard them, footsteps in the gravel.

“There you are,” Benzaiten was breathing heavily, “God, Juno, mother nearly called off the ball, she’s in there right now crushing macarons to dust so she doesn’t scream in front of everyone. She’s so mad, Juno…”

“I know, Ben, I’m sorry,” Juno stood, smoothing his skirts, “I just needed some air and I lost track of time. I’ll go see her now.”

Guilt and sorrow flickered over his brother’s face, “I...I don’t have to tell her I saw you…”

“No,” he took his hand and squeezed it, “It’s time I went back. Not like she’s going to get any less mad. I’m just sorry you had to tear yourself away from Mick.”

“Juno…” Ben groaned, blushing as he’d known he would.

He chuckled, nudging him with an elbow, “Come on. Any last words for me before mother tears me to shreds?”

“Not funny,” Ben walked closer to him than he needed to as they started back towards the palace, their hands still joined. Though just before they stepped back into the golden glow of the lights, he stopped them, “...oh, wait.”

“Hm?” Juno looked over as his brother reached up to the top of his head and brushed a few curls, neatening his hair with deft hands.

“There. Your tiara was crooked.”

#jupeter #juno steel #peter nureyev #benzaiten steel #mick mercury #sarah steel #angst #jack takano #tpp #the penumbra podcast #tpp fic #junoverse #juniverse #royalty au #juno is a princess #Nureyev is a thief #you know where this is going #please to enjoy!

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infernwetrust · 4 years

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f**k, i luv my friends [Fem Reader x Michael Langdon x Jim Mason x AHS 1984]

BRIEF INTRO: This takes place in alternate universe, combining Cody’s characters Michael, Jim, Duncan (supporting), and Xavier. The 1984 gang is included as well. The Michael for this series is a cross between Sojourn and F&R.

Summary: You and your best friends gather around the beach for some fun. The beginning of this series.

Warnings: A WHOLE LOTTA CUTE SHIT.

WC: 3.0k

A/N: Holy fucking shit I’m so excited to share this massive series I’m working on with you guys. I don’t know what to call it yet so for now under my master list it’ll be called “THE BESTFRIENDS UNIVERSE”. This was inspired by the artist renforshort and her song “f**k, i luv my friends”. There will be PLENTY of smut, angst, fluff, and MORE across this series. I am so unbelievably excited. If you would like to be in my tag list for this series please let me know! My ask box is open, so if you have any ideas or requests for this series, please, please, please ASK ME. There is no plot to this, therefore there are no limitations. Thank you so much for reading! -Juno

You smiled as you took a sip of the drink your boyfriend, Michael had made you. As you sat in the sand between his legs, him laid out on his beach towel, arms behind his head, eyes closed as he breathed in the ocean air. Your smile grew even wider as you scanned the rest of the beach, spotting the rest of your friend group. There was Xavier and his girlfriend Montana, who stood barely in the water, arms wrapped around each other as they kissed slowly under the sunset. Then there was Jim and his girlfriend Brooke who lay on their surfboards lazily, letting the waves carry them away, being careful not to get too far away. And then Chet and Ray, each with a bottle of Jack in their hand, taking sips as they took selfies and laugh at what you were sure were their usual stupid jokes.

You curled your toes as you took another sip, loving the feeling of the sand between them. How did you get this lucky to have this many people in your life that loved you and you loved them too? What had started as a small friendship with Montana, turned into something so huge. She introduced you to her boyfriend, Xavier, who then introduced you to the rest of their group, including Brooke's boyfriend, Jim. All of you met in freshman year of college and have been friends since. Michael was the last to enter the picture, but how everything changed when he did.

While you had finally found a stable friend group that you quickly grew to love, you were longing for something a little bit more. And that's when Michael came in and swept you away. He had come in as a transfer student from another college, sophomore year, and what a coincidence that you had him in all of classes first semester. He was a face you saw regularly around campus and you couldn't help but be drawn to his quiet nature. Slowly you began talking to him and you noticed how timid and reserved he was. He didn't really go out of his way to speak to anyone, besides when you would speak to him. He would give half smiles, and either one word or half sentences.

Soon you began walking with him to all your classes, the two of you never leaving each other's side. You'd help him with his homework for a class he didn't understand all too well and in return he would do the same. Lunch and dinner together became a regular thing. Your friends noticed your interest, often glancing at the two of you from another table afar, giving smiles and making stupid faces. When it came down to exams, you two met up every night 2 weeks prior, in the library, studying diligently, learning from each other's notes. He opened up to you rather quickly after that and when you were sure that he was comfortable enough you introduced him to everyone else, who immediately took a liking to the blonde boy with the soft, but vibrant blue eyes.

It was the small and subtle acts between the both of you, that drew you closer together. When you could sense that Michael was getting overwhelmed in a social setting, your hand found it's way into his, giving him a reassuring smile before the conversation continued. Or how when he spoke to you, you tuned everyone else out in the room to let him know that it was about him and no one else. It was you rubbing his back when he got frustrated, throwing his textbooks to the floor because he simply did not understand or when he would get into a spat with his older brother, Duncan over the phone.

It was him, picking up your favorite snack and coffee from the grand cafe before your 8AM. It was him, walking you back to your residence hall in the middle of the night to ensure that you made it safely. It was the way his blonde hair moved with the wind, the endless laughter, the stressful nights. Before you knew it, you had fallen in love with Michael. 9 months of an unbreakable bond.

You still remember the first time he kissed you. Both of you stood drunkenly in the middle of a frat party, not really wanting to be surrounded by the crowd of sweaty bodies and other screaming young adults. You screamed in Montana's ear over the loud music that you and Michael were going to step outside for some fresh air. She drunkenly gave you a thumbs up, not be able to remove her lips from Xavier's who roughly grabbed at her ass, pulling her closer into him. You finally felt like you could breathe once the cool air hit your skin.

As you stared out into the distance, you couldn't help but feel like a set of eyes were burning into your skin. When you turned your head, you met Michael's gaze and before you could even ask him what was wrong his lips were on yours. He quickly pulled back, shocked by what he did and he moved his lips to say sorry, but you grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him back towards you. A fire danced inside the both of you as he wrapped his arms around you, you doing the same. You could feel yourself melting away at his touch, his soft lips against yours, the occasional brushing of noses. For the first time, this was a kiss that felt right. You felt safe in his hands and knew you wanted to be his.

"Y/N!" Xavier called out to you, immediately snapping you out of your thoughts. The air had gotten a little bit cooler, which you welcomed. You looked over in his direction. He motioned the action taking a picture with a camera, and bringing his fingers to his lips like he was smoking. This signaled to you that he wanted you to come over with your Polaroid camera and that he going to light another joint. You enthusiastically gave him a double thumbs up, letting him know that you'd be over there soon.

You turned around to look behind you, down at Michael who looked so peaceful as he became one with the beach. His mouth hung open slightly and you knew that he was falling asleep, which caused you to giggle, moving a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"Hey..." you said softly, running your hands down his chest, watching as his eyes quickly fluttered open in a daze. He groaned sleepily, a smile forming on his face when he looked into your eyes. He grabbed onto your hands, holding them in place and running his thumbs along them. "Don't tell me that you're falling asleep already. Our night hasn't even really begun."

"I was resting my eyes." he said, chuckling a little bit at his obvious lie.

"You can do that for the rest of the night when we get back. Xavier wants to take pictures."

"Why is he so obsessed with taking pictures?" Michael questioned, propping himself up on his elbows as you rose to your feet, dusting the excess sand off you. He couldn't help but bite his lip as your bikini top fit you perfectly, combined with the booty shorts you wore that was snug to your figure. He ran his hand through his messy hair, sighing.

"We're making memories Michael." you answered. "I don't want to hear anything when you literally have all the Polaroid pictures I took of us and everyone else scattered around your dorm room and on your car dashboard. You love taking pictures as much as he does. You're just feeling lazy."

"You enjoy reading me to filth, don't you?"

"Only sometimes." You walked over to your belongings, grabbing your camera and your tripod. Michael soon got up, also dusting the sand off of himself, shaking his hair in the process before following you down to where everyone else was.

"We were hoping you two would join us soon." Montana said, smiling at you and Michael. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug that you gladly returned.

"Well don't you look more alive than ever, Mike." Xavier said to his friend. "Enjoy your nap? I mean we've been here for like what, an hour?"

"Fuck you, Xavier." Michael said, shoving him playfully in his shoulder earning a smirk from him. "It could have been a longer nap. It should have been."

"You don't want to miss out on this do you?" Xavier questioned, waving the joint in front of Michael's face. "It's your favorite strain, wedding cake."

"I suppose you have a valid claim." Michael answered, reaching for the joint, but couldn't grab it because someone else did.

"Don't mind if I do." Jim said, grabbing the joint out of Xavier's hand, immediately putting it between his lips and lightning it.

"Eager are we?" you asked Jim as you set the camera up, earning a smile from him as he stuck his tongue out at you, walking back over to Brooke who now stood only a few feet away, conversing with Chet and Ray.

"That's why I rolled two." Xavier said, taking another one from behind his ear and handing it to Michael. "Too many of us for just one, right?"

"More like Jim will inhale half of it before passing it to anyone else." Montana chimed in, rolling her eyes as she rested her elbow on Michael's shoulder, letting the smell of the freshly lit joint consume her.

"That sounds more like it." Michael said as he exhaled, passing it to Xavier.

"I strive to be a stoner like him though." she continued. "Detached from reality for most of the day, but still functional? That sounds like heaven."

"No it sounds like Jim's tolerance is through the roof." you said, to which Xavier nodded in agreement.

"He's been smoking since he was like 12. I'm jealous." Xavier said, handing the joint off to Montana who took a few hits before passing it to you. As you inhaled, you felt your body relax tremendously. A few more hits and the joint was back in Michael's hand.

"Okay everyone!" you yelled, getting everyone's attention. "Camera is all good to go!" You took a couple pictures of Montana and Xavier, your heart too warm at their various poses. He would wrap his arms around her from behind or she would climb on his back, wrapping her arms around his chest. A couple of off guards of the two were taken as well. You told them to act natural, just to converse with each other as you snapped pictures. Pictures of you and Michael followed. He made sure to always make a statement in the pictures that he took with you. He stood behind you, a hand wrapped gently around your throat as he snapped your head back to make you look at him, blissful smiles on both of your faces.

"Hey!" he yelled towards Jim who had his phone in his hand, taking Snapchats of everyone and posting them to his story. "Take a picture of Y/N and I like this. I want to post it to my Instagram." Jim gladly did as Michael asked, immediately sending the photo to him after so that he would have it to post later. The next picture was simple. You and Michael stood next to each other, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and yours wrapped around his waist, the both of you giving a soft smile. The final picture was of him holding you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as you pressed your lips against his, the both of you smiling in the kiss.

Jim and Brooke were wild and spontaneous and you loved it. Taking pictures of them were by far your favorite. Brooke held Jim in a headlock, a wild smile across his face and gripped onto her arm as you took the picture. Then she got on his shoulders, Jim holding her securely in place as her hands laid in his hair. Their last picture was of them, backs to the camera as they held hands, staring off into the sunset. You quickly turned the tripod around, taking an off guard of everyone who sat to the side around the fire. Xavier held the joint in his hand, mid sentence in conversation with Chet. Ray, Montana, and Michael were laughing their asses off at God knows what. All the emotions you were feeling inside, you swear you could cry at the sight. You fucking LOVED your friends.

You gathered all the boys up for their group photo. Xavier stood next to Jim, arm around his shoulder, hand slightly over his chest. Next to Jim was Ray, with a tooth pick in his mouth as he leaned into Jim's shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest. Michael stood next to Ray, his hand place on Ray's head as if he were holding a basketball, his other arm wrapped around Chet's shoulder, hand perfectly displaying a middle finger in the middle of Chet's chest.

"God, I fucking love y'all." Brooke said as she stood behind you, watching you take the picture.

"They're cute, aren't they?" you asked, putting on your best focused face as you snapped the picture. You told them to hold their pose as you snapped a couple more, wanting everyone to have a copy of that picture.

"Too cute for their own good." Montana said. "A bunch of shit heads."

"Our shit heads." you said. "Okay guys! Just two more. One of us girls and then all of us together and then we can figure out plans for dinner!" You bit your lip, holding hands with Brooke and Montana as the 3 of you stepped in front of the camera. Montana stood in the middle of you and Brooke, throwing her arms tightly around your shoulders, bringing the two of you closer to her. She stuck her tongue out for the photo, while you held up a peace sign with your hand, a wide, closed eyed smile on your face. Brooke held onto Montana's arm, her own wide, but opened eyed smiled, forming across her face. You can tell that Michael had taken a few extras for everyone else, consider how many time the cameras flashed behind your closed eyes.

Finally, the moment you, and you're sure everyone else was waiting for. The big, family, photo. Xavier and Chet took the ends. And in this order everyone stood: Xavier, Montana, You, Michael, Brooke, Jim, Ray, and Chet. You set the timer on the camera, all 9 of you trying to come up with different poses quickly for the camera. Your favorite one as you went through them had to be the one where you and Michael sat in the sand in front of Brooke and Jim who now stood between Xavier and Ray. He let you wrap your arms around his torso, your nose nestled perfectly into his cheek as you gave him a small kiss.

"Okay." Xavier sighed as he hopped into the drivers seat of Jim's midnight blue Tahoe. Jim himself in the passenger seat. Brooke and Montana took the second row. You and Michael snuggled together comfortably in the very back row, your feet sprawled out in Chet and Ray's laps as they both got lost in their phones scrolling through Facebook and sharing memes with each other, which reminded Michael to post the picture of the two of you Jim had sent to him. "Anyone have any dinner ideas before we leave? Anyone in the mood for anything particular?"

"Honestly could just keep it classic and go for a burger and a shake right now." Ray said from the back.

"Ooo, from where though?" Jim asked, turning around to look at him. "That shake sounds really fucking good. Chocolate shake. I want a chocolate shake."

"Tommy's!" Montana, Brooke, Ray, and Chet said in unison.

"Michael? Y/N?" Xavier questioned, pushing his sun glasses down so he could look at the both of you.

"A cookies and cream milkshake is calling my name right now." Michael said as his hand lazily brushed through your hair.

"You had me at burger." you agreed.

"Tommy's it is." Xavier said, finally starting Jim's car, his blue LED strips, dimly illuminating the car, the last song on his phone beginning to play as Xavier single-handedly backed out of the parking space.

Despite how tired everyone was, the car ride was far from silent. For the first 30 minutes anyways. It would take over an hour and a half before you all got back into downtown LA. You finally sat up in your seat, Michael throwing his arm around your shoulder to keep you close to him. So needy , you thought, but you loved that about him. He always wanted to be close to you. He always wanted to touch you. He made sure you felt loved and secured. You watched at the front as Jim and Xavier currently sang and half danced to the song that played. You glanced at Brooke and Montana who had fallen asleep rather quickly, heads leaned against the car window. Chet and Ray had resorted to playing Among Us to pass the drive time, Michael soon joining them.

"Okay, fucking seriously." Michael said as he furrowed his eyebrows, pissed that he was killed by the imposter yet again. And the imposter just happened to be Chet, but of course he kept silent, not wanting to alert Ray. You giggled to yourself, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You wiped them anyway, inhaling deeply before exhaling.

"Everything alright?" Michael asked, noticing your change of mood. "Why are you crying?" He made sure to whisper, not wanting to draw attention to the both of you.

"Michael." you said. "I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N." he smiled.

"And all of our crazy friends."

"I love them too." he laughed.

Fuck, I love my friends

Without them, I'd be dead

I know they're the only ones who'll love me till the end

We're all such a mess, lonely and depressed

Been so long and I can't wait to see them again

Fuck, I love my friends

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger @fernfiction

Again, let me know if you would like to included in the tag list for this series!

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alexandenigtscreations · 3 years

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Chapters: 4/? Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Summary:

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Part 4:

Somewhere in the distance and fog of his mind he registered a door swinging open. There was a loud clatter and shredding of metal that set his teeth on edge, scattering what little assemblance of thought he’d managed to collect.

Something- something wasn’t right.

Shrill beeping cut deep into his skull- Juno pressed a hand to his temple, opening his eye to stare up at the canvas.

Nureyev was out there- fighting.

Nureyev was out there fighting while Juno was cowering under a blanket like some god damned child- But no, ‘worse than a child’ , even as a kid he’d probably be out there right now, fists swinging to protect those important to him.

Damn, even dead Ramses O’Flaherty could still talk his ear off.

Stop it Steel. He shifted, groaning as stab of pain shot through his stomach-

He- oh- he didn’t feel good-

There were more sounds from outside, sparking metal and weighty clangs- accompanied by the the telltale hum of a blaster charging- Nureyev didn’t fight with a blaster, which meant-

No-

Juno forced himself into a sitting position, a sodden cloth sliding off his forehead. The world washed out in vertigo, the nausea once again clawing at his insides. Damn it-

He groaned, clutching at the couch arm for dear life.

It felt like an eternity for him to get his bearings- He needed to get to Nureyev, he needed to help . That little black box wouldn't mean a damned thing if something happened to his knight in stolen armor.

You’d just get in his way- a nasty part of himself hissed. You’re no good to anyone like you are now-

And god was he aware of that, couldn’t so much as sit up without feeling sick- he gritted his teeth cursing himself for getting hit in the first place.

Hell, hadn’t Nureyev proven time and time again how he didn’t need Juno? How could he fend for himself? He’d practically carried Juno the last leg to their pick up point, probably making his injury worse. .

The battle wages on in Juno's mind, to go or not to go- To go or not to go, To go- God, he's had hangovers that treat him more like a lady than this.

Or not to go- He hunched over, hugging himself tight-

To go - even the THEIA Soul hadn't done him this dirty-

Or not to go- admittedly he'd been heavily sedated in a hospital ward at the time and couldn't remember much of the whole thing-

Or not to go-

Juno was just about to let his aching body sink back into the cushions when he heard something that flooded him with fear.

Nureyev screamed-

The last time he’d heard the man scream was in Miasma’s compound. It was something that his nameless thief just didn’t do.

He was hurt-

He needed help-

Juno lurched to his feet, barely able to disentangle himself from the canvas and take up his blaster.

He heard Nureyev again, this time softer than before. It only served to spur Juno on.

Juno flung the door open. Propping himself up on the frame, he surveyed the scene. A handful of drones were closing in on where Nureyev was tangled in a series of bins. He was struggling to get upright and not getting very far-

Juno took aim and fired.

It was hard to aim true with his shaking arms. The shots never seemed to line up quite right and for a heart stopping moment, he thought he hit Nureyev. Terror bit deep into his chest as Juno watched the man fold in on himself, getting impossibly small.

Oh, no, no, no, please no-

The next thing he knew, the thief leaped up with a flourish. A flash of silver arced through the air, knocking something to the ground next to Juno’s feet.

A drone.

He- hadn’t noticed it- which seemed impossible, it was so close- He hadn't noticed it until Nureyev acted-

“Nice- shot-”. He gasped, feeling his face twisting into a grimace. The knife sensation reared its ugly head; cutting edges worrying away at his core. It was too much, too much! God. It drowned out all thought leaving only pain.

He let out a low whine and sagged against the door frame, feeling sicker than ever. Dimly aware of that musical baritone talking to him, saying his name and cool hands cupping his face-

He could scarcely make out the words over the rush of blood in his ears. But he wanted to. He’d do anything for that wonderful voice.

“uno- Juno-” Nureyev was saying “love, do you think you c-can stand for me?”

All Juno could do was let out an unhelpful groan. Long thin arms wound their way about him, attempting to pull him upright. But it hurt - it hurt so much. He folded over the pain, dropping even lower.

“I need you- to work w-with me- Detective-” Nureyev said through gritted teeth. That’s when he remembered the blaster shot.

Hell

He needed to help out- he needed to stand- He rearranged his leaden legs to gain leverage from the ground, pushing up underneath him and-

Something tore within. Like so many wet chords snapping- breaking apart. Juno cried out in agony.

“I know love- I know- but I need you to keep up the stride-”

Nureyev didn’t know- couldn’t . How would you know what it would be like? To come undone from the inside out- To have every step unravel you piece by piece.

How could you know something like that?

He wished to be belligerent, to argue back or something, but instead he just keened into Nureyev’s side, his body on fire.

“Just- a bit- more-” Juno’s stomach lurched as he was deposited back onto the cushions. Nureyev muttered something soothing in a language he couldn’t quite focus on, before messily transitioning back to Solar. “I’ll be back Love, I’ve s-strings to tie up.”

Strings to tie up- that seemed pleasant. Juno felt like his strings had been cut. He curled in on himself trying to bite back another pathetic sound. Trying to hold himself together even as his heart threatened to hammer him apart. Trying to breathe.

Just.

Breathe.

By the time Nureyev returned, Juno was feeling- not better- but certainly more stable. The thief, however, was limping worse than ever. His hair worked free of the careful styling, his complexion pallid and flushed under what remained of his foundation. He was shaking too. At least, Juno thought he was shaking, it was hard to tell through the mental fog.

“ ‘Reyev- ” he croaked.

Nureyev’s expression softened, “Juno- How are you feeling?”

“Like I ate nails fer’ breakfast- you?”

“Nails f-for breakfast? What an unusual culinary choice.”

Juno huffed in amusement immediately tensing around another throb of pain. They seemed to be getting more frequent. “Don’ make me laugh- naugh’ fair-”

“Apologies Detective.” Juno didn’t miss the way Nureyev peered out the window- Worried about being followed- the thought surfaced hazily.

“Is- are they tracking us?” Juno inquired.

“I’m not sure how they’d be track-” he trailed off, those bright eyes flashing in a shock of recognition. “Of course- Juno- that’s it!” Nureyev pressed an excited kiss into his knuckles before hobbling off to retrieve his coat, where it had been left to dry.

“Babe?” Juno asked, not following the frenzied search through all the rubbish packed in those bottomless pockets of his.

Nureyev made a triumphant noise, extracting a small bundle of cyan fletched darts, their noses buried in a cork. Juno wanted to ask, but found himself instead enjoying the flush of triumph on Nureyev’s face. It was an expression that was all Peter Nureyev without a hint of a mask, a smile pulled wide over those pointed teeth, eyes sparkling behind his glasses, hair tussled with strands framing his face.

“Do I wanna know?”

“If I told you they caught my eye- w-would you hold it against me?”

“You telling me you took ‘em because- they were shiny?” Juno chuckled, regretting the act instantly as the pain flared.

“I s-suppose that’s one interpretation-” he affirmed, freeing a dart and analyzing it. Looking for ways to disassemble the thing. The miniscule vial within was still full, which was something.

__________________________________________________________

Nureyev scrutinized the dart, turning it this way and that before gleaning an understanding of the shell’s mechanics. Sure enough, a simple twist was all it took to remove the fletching, revealing a small honing chip.

He let out a short, disappointed hum.

“I regret to inform you that your hunch was- correct.” He held the chip up for the Detective’s inspection.

“Ya-you jus’ don’ like surprises-”

“Don’t be absurd, surprises k-keep life interesting. However-” he glared at the offending chip over his glasses “T-today has already been more interesting than what w-would be comfortable.”

Juno rewarded him with a snort, his gentle hand came to rest on Nureyev’s back.

The touch was light, but sent an achy chill through him even as he chased the pressure. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t feeling well at all- and it was more than the pain in his leg. Juno’s fingers drifted up to his shoulder, his thumb tracing clumsy circles into the damp material of his shirt.

A trickle of sweat trailed down his brow accentuating the pounding in his temples. A few minutes rest- then he could deal with the microchips- somehow.

Perhaps he had said something out loud because Juno rasped “Rita-” Nureyev frowned, wondering why Juno would be bringing up his ex-secretary now. “She’ll know wha ta do-”

It snapped into place so fast it made his head spin. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d have kissed Juno on the spot. Still might.

Of course! Rita would surely be able to help them deal with the chips! Of course!

He settled in and made the call.

“Hiiiiii~ This is Rita’s Work Space Spectacular!” came her usual upbeat tone. Nureyev put her on speaker between the two of them, nothing subtle way Juno perked up.

“Rita- how god it is to hear from you-”

“Ohh! Mista Ransom! I thought you was gonna be the Captain! Checking in on the- well- never mind. But I heard you was held up somewhere safe till old Rita here can get back to you all but I’m so sorry Mista Ransom! I don’t know when the Carte Blanche will be able to circle back! I am trying my best, I really am but this is just like Delton: Age of Destruction! Where the bad guys weave a real dense net of radioactive algae to capture-”

“Rita-” Juno cut in.

“Princes Valkyrie of-”

“Rita!” he was louder now, raising himself up on an elbow with a pained hiss. “Rita- please- there's a- chip-”

“Not a Soul -” she gasped, sounding utterly terrified “Mista Steel! That took a hundred and ten percent of my energy last time, and a whole building collapsin’ on you! With everythin’ that’s going on right now I don’t know if I can-”

“N-not that Rita- we’re- ugh- ” Juno’s chest stuttered as another spasm passed through “We’re- alrigh-”

“Really Mista Steel? You don’t sound alright.” Rita’s concern mirrored Nureyev’s own. He almost envied her the luxury in indulging it instead of shoving it to a dark corner of his mind in favor of the more immediate threat. The only one he was qualified to handle.

“We have k-kept Vespa in the loop, she is aware of our situation. Juno is referring to t-the-” he trailed off pinching the bridge of his nose trying to think past the fog “the- locating- er- tracking chip. Half dozen of the things really- we require your assistance in d-dealing with them.”

“Oh! Tracking chips? Why didn’t you say something soona Mista Ransom! I can do that for you no problem! One Sec!”

Nureyev hummed appreciatively, smoothing back his slackening hair and plucking off residual crawlspace cobwebs.

“Just put the coms in front of the chips and let me see what’s what.”

“You c-can do that?” Not for the first time, Nureyev was left in awe by the resident hacker of the Carte Blanche.

“Little trick I picked up with Mista Steel!” he could practically see the large warm smile lighting her face from here. “Just gotta hack into the Universal Positioning System and tap into the uplink relay and-”

He left her to it, listening to her chirp away about anything and everything that came into her mind. He’d long held a suspicion that this display was an advanced system of a free association memory palace- rather like those remarkable drawing notes of hers. Something that seemed to be unique to Rita.

Nureyev leaned back and focused on breathing, threading his fingers with Juno’s and taking the opportunity to search the lady’s wrist for his pulse point. The Detective gave a violent full body shiver before he could locate the beat.

“Nur-” he puffed “cold-”

“Apologies.”

Juno hummed, pulling Nureyev’s arm closer to the heat of him. He was being drawn in, like a moth to a flame. A beautiful goddess by the name of Juno Steel. It was nice there, he could feel his heart through his shirt, where his arm rested against his chest. He drew nearer still, lulled by the rhythmic clacks of Rita’s fingers as they danced their way across the keys.

“Ah Ha! And there you have it! Those nasty drone demons can’t be following you any more, Mista Ransom!”

“Wait-that’s- that’s it?” Nureyev could scarce believe it.

“Yep! You’re all set! Rita took care of it for ya! Actually a lot easier than I thought it would be, which is good cuz it’s really buzzy at the moment!”

Nureyev gave her profuse thanks, a weight lifting from his chest.

“What was that Mista Ransom? Couldn’t quite understand ya there-”

“Oh- Just- t-thank you...Rita.”

“Sure thing Mista Ransom! If there’s anythin, and I mean anythin else that little ol’ Rita can help you with, don’t be afraid to give me a hollar! And, well, Just take care of yourself and Mista Steel okay? I know that ain't somethin I gotta ask with you but, you’re far away and I’m just worried sick about you two! Okay? And just in case, you should keep an eye on those little devices, just cuz I-” she cut off. Someone in the background seemed to be talking to her. “Oh, right away Captain A! Sorry Mista Ransom, I gotta go!”

“Understood, and thank you again-” but she was already gone.

Conversations with Rita usually left him mentally reeling and oddly touched in a way he couldn’t truly begin to unpack. This conversation was no different, adding to the mounting folder that was Rita in his mind.

He thought about filing this discussion away in future consideration too, but- that didn’t fit- perhaps it would be saved for an upcoming poetry session when they were once again safe aboard the Carte Blanche.

Yes- that would have to due.

And again- more evidence that something was happening on the ship-

He bit his lip, thinking- and trying his best to blot out worst case scenarios.

A hand searing with fevered heat, brushed the nape of his neck. “Babe- come under tha covers- ge-warm.”

Nureyev hummed, it sounded so inviting, and he was so cold.

“Perhaps-for a moment Love-”

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #jupeter #peter nureyev #rita redacted #juno steel #fic #fanfic #my writing #AlexandeNight #junoverse #blaster shot wound #poision #tw description of illness #etc #it's getting finished #slowly but surly!#:D

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

88. I dropped my watch in an open grave, jumped in to get it, and while you were visiting your dead grandmother, you saw me climbing out of the grave (credit to @enchantedcass)

Indruck, sfw or nsfw, please!

Here it is! This is technically SFW, though there's some discussion of sex and a bit of steaminess at the end.

“Here, these are fresh.” Indrid sets the wildflowers on the small, stone marker, so covered with moss and worn with age that no one can read it. He only knows where to find her because he watched from the Barrens as she was put in the ground.

Temperance Leeds. His grandmother, the one who narrowly avoided accusations of witchcraft, the only human who ever set foot deep enough in the trees to bring him food, to drape blankets over his shaking shoulders. She never forgot him, and he shall return the favor as long as he lives.

There’s a thump of earth behind him and he whirls; it’s midnight in a graveyard, who could possibly be here? The ghosthunters usually wait for darker nights to come. In his periphery, a hand rises from an open grave.

Great, if the dead rise he’ll probably be blamed for that too.

“Fuck” A young man pulls himself from the grave, staring at his cell phone, “c’mon, please don’t be fuckin cracked.” Light illuminates his face and sighs, “thank fuckin christ.”

The light disappears and he blinks, eyes adjusting to the dark. Indrid, too caught up in working out why he’s in the ground, hasn’t bothered to hide as he should. The human notices.

“Uh. I. Uh. Dropped my phone checkin the time. I, uh, definitely wasn’t smokin in the off limits, uh, fuck, graveyard I, uh, I fuck, promise I’ll clean up my beer bottles I mean, uh, fuck.” He scratches the back of his neck, “please don’t call the cops?”

“Can you see me?” Indrid cocks his head.

“Yeah?”

“And you are worried about me alerting the police?”

“I mean, guess we’re both breakin the rules but I kinda figured you were staff here because of the clothes.” He gestures to the ensemble Indrid cobbled together from clothes lines.

Indrid stands, stretches his wings, flicks his tail and watches the human slowly notice the color of his eyes and the outline of his horns.

“Fuck. Look, man, whatever you are, I swear I won’t tell, I’m just tryin to keep busy, please, my folks are already worried about me-”

“I’m not going to harm you.” Lightning cracks through the sky, flashing his shadow across the frightened human, “I just wanted you to see me clearly.”

Rain patters on the leather of his wings. The man looks up at the sky, face seeming even younger as it fills with resignation. Indrid recognizes it’s source.

“You have nowhere to go, do you?”

“No. I, uh, decided I wanted to get outta town and never come back, made it as far as here before I ran outta money.”

Indrid offers his hand, watches the man’s face zero in on the claws, “You may spend the night with me, if you wish. My home is a ways into the woods, but it is dry and warm.”

“Okay.” The young man replies softly, letting Indrid help him up as the dirt turns to mud. Indrid shelters him as best he can with a wing until they reach the cottage. Indrid kneels by the fireplace, lumps kindling into a pile as the young man sets his backpack on a chair.

“Nice place. Gotta admit I was expectin somethin more dilapidated. On account of the whole, uh, y’know.” He gestures to Indrid’s horns and cloven feet.

“It was much like you expected, once upon a time. But a human named Arlo Thacker took pity on me and helped me build it with the aid of a few friends. There.” The fire flickers merrily, “that should keep us warm. You may--ah, what are you doing?”

The young man has removed his jacket and shirt, revealing what Indrid recognizes from human magazines as a sports bra. His hands are now on the fly of his jeans.

“You said I was supposed to, uh, spend the night with you?”

“Yes, in that you may sleep here to be safe from the weather and any who might wish you harm. Not so that you may keep me warm. So to speak.”

“You’re not gonna fuck me?”

Indrid flicks his tail, surprised, “You would offer yourself to me, looking like this?”

The man nods in a way that suggests he’s run a calculus in his head and decided Indrid’s desire was less abhorrent than some other option. Indrid crosses the small living room, bringing them face to face. He reaches out a hand, runs his claws through black hair until the human closes his eyes. Then his hand slides to cup his cheek, one nail tracing fond little shapes on the skin as the man sighs. Against his better judgement, he tilts his head down to nose the dark locks; smoke lingers there, just as alcohol hangs on his breath. He’s so warm, so willing and so very soft. Indrid wants nothing more than to undress him further, carry him to his cozy bedroom and discover what sounds come when he fits their bodies together.

“What’s your name?”

“Duck. It’s a nickname.”

“A charming one. But no, Duck, I will not take such advantage of you. I may be called a devil, but I do not believe in making one trade their body for basic kindness. Come along, the bedroom will allow you more privacy.”

“Thanks.” Duck sways, and Indrid senses a weariness he’s not certain a good nights rest will fix. Tomorrow he will be sure to be gone when Duck awakens, leaving his dry clothes and a map back to town outside his door so that he can do what Indrid can dare to; leave the Barrens and find a life waiting for him in the world beyond.

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

There are some days when Duck thinks his encounter in the woods was a dream. The hand-drawn map he keeps folded among his books tells him otherwise.

He’d come home after that night, made his peace with Kepler for a few years more, and often awoke from dreams where he was pushing through brush in pursuit of a strange shadow. He never cites these as a reason for his taking a job at a state forest in New Jersey that includes the Barrens.

Now, he’s decided to upgrade from his apartment to a house in the woods that’s been listed for over two years and is a goddamn steal because of that.

“As you can see, there’s another residence across the clearing; that’s why the company that built this lovely dwelling was able to do so. They intended to build a nice little community here.”

“The fact that ain’t happened got anythin to do with the reason I gotta stay the night before I make an offer?”

Ned’s smile falters, “Indeed, dear boy. I like you, so I’ll be forthcoming; we’ve never seen anyone in the other house. But they have most certainly seen us.”

Duck settles in for an uneventful afternoon and evening, reads his book and considers whether he could fit some windowboxes on the house for garden space. It’s not until it’s pitch black outside that it starts; footsteps on the roof, followed shortly by red eyes peering in through the living room window.

He opens the front door, the undergrowth rustling hurriedly to his left.

“Uh, hey there. You may not remember me but, uh, we’ve actually met before. About ten years ago. You uh, you let me stay the night?”

Only some crickets, unaware of the tension in the air, reply to him. Then the bushes grow two, ruby red flowers.

“Duck?”

“Yep. Y’know, you never told me your name. If we’re gonna be neighbors, feels like I oughta know what to call you.”

A shadow moves from the trees, stopping when it reaches the light spilling from the windows. He’s as Duck remembers him; short horns sprouting from a mop of silver hair, claws on his fingers and black wings folded on his back. His skin is a swirl of ashy grey and ember red. And his face, while striking, is human. That was the part that always tripped Duck up; the Jersey Devil was always drawn with a goat or horse face, making him question whether that’s who he met all those years ago.

“Indrid. My name is Indrid.”

“Nice to see you again, Indrid.”

The other man smiles, and Duck knows what will replace the mad hunt through the brush in his dreams, “Likewise.”

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

“You know, she had three more children after me. None of them suffered the same curse.” Indrid kicks idly at the long decayed remains of his family home. Their nightly walk brough them close to it this time around, and Duck had been curious. His interest is never prurient or morbid; Duck wants to get to know Indrid, not his legend.

“That fuckin sucks.”

Indrid chuckles, “I do enjoy how you put things so plainly.”

“I’m serious, what kind of folks put their kid out when it’s a baby? I mean, mine weren't always the fuckin parents of the year but at least they understood lookin after me was part of the deal.”

“It was a different time.”

“Fine, but I’m still judgin the hell outta them.”

Indrid looks fondly down at the human, “That’s as fair a fate for them as any.”

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

“It don’t weird you out?” Juno indicates Indrid’s house from where she and Duck are sitting on his front porch. The twin Adirondack chairs are a new addition, as the warmer months mean he and Indrid spend ample time trying to see the stars through the treetops.

“Nah. Indrid’s a real good neighbor when he’s around. He’s uh, from an old family so he don’t gotta work. Part of why he keeps such weird hours.” Duck wishes he could introduce them; it’d be nice for the three of them to have dinner before Juno heads south again. But Indrid has several centuries of shitty human encounters that dig under his skin like splinters, and Duck will never push him to ignore that pain. Besides, there will be other visits.

The summer and fall pass in much the same ways last winter and spring did. Duck works in the park, visits friends in town, runs errands, and generally goes about all the mundane moments that make up a life. Then he spends his evenings in one of the two cottages, or walking alongside Indrid on long-overgrown pathways.

The hardest part of it all is not mentioning Indrid in every single conversation; Duck is already tempting disaster being unable to lie and the neighbor of a cryptid. He doesn’t want to also drive his friends up the wall talking about said cryptids art, or his laugh, or the little herb garden Duck is helping him grow.

They’re in the stretch of days between Christmas and New Year, and Indrid has just finished opening the gift Duck brought him; a thick, soft sweater that Duck stitched a “I” into the front of along with a few little pine tree patches. Indrid smiles at him and notices that Duck’s sweater is done in a similar fashion (in fact, everyone in the Newton family wears one like this). The grin turns bashful and Indrid rubs his cheek against the fabric.

“Thank you, Duck. I, ah, I’m sorry I do not have anything to give you. Holidays are not my strong suit.”

“Just gettin to see you is enough.” Duck stands to refill his tea, Indrid’s gaze caressing his back as he moves through the room. He almost hadn’t gone home, had offered to stay and keep Indrid company. But his friend insisted, reminding him that while it felt odd to be without each other, they both had spent plenty of time apart and been fine. All the same, when he got home yesterday Indrid was knocking on his door before he even put his bag down.

Duck didn’t mind at all. No more than he minds when Indrid sleeps with his head in his lap or strokes his hair while they read on the couch.

The cryptid stokes the fire as the snow gives way to sleet, streaking the windows with icy drops.

“Goodness, what a frigid night.”

“No kiddin.” Duck sets his mug down, turns just as Indrid gets to his feet, “can’t say I mind, kinda reminds me of the night we met.”

The colors of Indrid’s skin make a blush difficult to spot, but Duck’s learned which dip of his head and quirk of his lip means it’s there.

“‘Drid? Did you ever think about that night? Because I did. I, uh, I do.”

“Yes.” Indrid’s tail twitches.

“What do you think about?”

“I, ah, I...you first.”

Duck crosses the creaking floorboards, looking up into red eyes, “I think about how safe it felt when you brought me here. How when I woke up, I felt like this was some kinda weird sign, that I needed to rethink some things and that’s how come I went home, which turned out to be a good call. And” he smirks, “I think about how I was drunk and desperate enough to ask the fuckin Jersey Devil if he was gonna fuck me.”

Indrid blushes once more, studies the ground as Duck touches his shoulder, “I must say that is the part that dominated most of my thoughts. Not right away; for the first few weeks when I thought of you I only hoped you were alright. Then I would let myself imagine that I had been devilish indeed.”

Gently, Duck raises Indrid’s hand and cradles his cheek with it as they did that night, “What would you have done, devil of mine?”

A snicker, “I will answer that only if you tell me whether you are angling for the demonstration that I think you are.”

“Damn right.” He closes his eyes, heart swelling and skin prickling as Indrid steps closer and nuzzles the top of his head.

“I would have asked if you were tired of running. If you wanted a home. And would you like to make it here, so that we could keep each other company. I know in my heart this would have been a selfish offer. I am glad I did not make it, did not trap you here, resign you to a fate that was not what you would have chosen freely.”

“I’m pretty fuckin free these days.”

“And that all on it’s own fills me with joy. But yes, there were nights where I wished I’d been selfish.”

Duck tips his head up, brushing their noses together, “Say you made that offer and I accepted. What then?”

Indrid cups his face with both hands. The kiss is chaste, Indrid sighing against his lips as he twines his claws in his hair. Duck wraps his arms around his waist, lightly teasing the edge of one wing.

“Then” Indrid murmurs, “I’d carry you to bed.”

“Yeah, that part woulda been easier when I was seventeEEN” he laughs as Indrid scoops him into a bridal carry with ease. He’s never been in Indrid’s bed, so he giggles again when he discovers it’s ten times squishier than his own. The cryptid sinks onto it with him, guiding him so they’re face to face on their sides.

“May I undress you?”

“Knock yourself out, darlin.” Affection deep and warm as a thermal spring wells up in him as Indrid carefully removes his sweater and shirt before dainty setting his claws to work on his fly. When Duck is down to his boxers, hunger enters Indrid’s eyes for the first time.

“Oh you are divine.” One hand strokes his leg, pausing at the crease of his thigh each time it reaches there. The other curves along his belly up to his chest before caressing his face, the black claws making his skin seem oddly pale and very fragile in comparison.

Duck touches the hem of Indrid’s shirt and the cryptid freezes.

“‘Drid? Is this okay?”

“Do you...truly wish to see me unclothed?”

Duck surges forward to kiss him as he rucks up his shirt, the movement a sufficient answer for Indrid to raise his arms and let him pull the sweater and battered shirt beneath it away. His skin here is the same swirl of colors as the rest of him, but there’s a dusting of peach fuzz fur across it. It’s delightful under Duck’s tongue, though the little keen of pleasure from Indrid is even better.

“It’s strange” Indrid traces hearts and zig-zags with his claws along Duck’s sides as the human continues kissing his chest and neck, “I thought that seeing you like this would so overwhelm me with need that I’d beg to have you this instant. But it seems I feel much the same way I did in my fantasies of that night.”

“Oh” Duck reaches up to toy with the base of a horn and Indrid groans happily before continuing.

“Had you stayed, knowing you were now mine, I’d have taken my time. Nestled you under the blankets, opened you up on my tongue until you were weak from pleasure. That way it would be easy to take you when I was ready. Perhaps on your back, so you had me to hold onto if you needed. Or on your belly, so you would be even more sheltered from the cold, cruel world by my body and wings. And I’d stay there for hours, make up for decade after decade of touch starvation by glutting myself on your young, willing body.”

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid.” Duck pulls him down into a kiss, “christ that’s a fuckin good image.”

“Mmmm” the cryptid licks his cheek, “it is, isn’t it. But since you are not going anywhere, and we are not limited by the confines of my imagination, I am even less inclined to rush. Will you indulge me with just kisse tonight?”

Duck brushes silver hair from his forehead, planting a kiss there when he’s done, “Of course.”

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

The morning brings several feet of snow and announcement that those who can stay in their homes and shelter from the ongoing storm should. The pines drop heaps of white across the ground, and frost makes the windows so icy it’s better to draw the curtains and stay curled up in the dark.

Duck doesn’t mind at all.

#indrid cold/ duck newton #indruck #meet ugly #monster boyfriend

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this-is-a-podcast-fanblog · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday @rudzik-art!

As many of you know, Robin (@rudzik-art) is turning 20 today. As a surprise gift for them, I took an AU we talked about and turned it into a fic! (So, today is not only a celebration of Robin’s birthday, it’s officially my return from fic hiatus.)

But that’s not enough to mark an occasion as important as a 20th birthday, so I got some of our favorite artists involved as well! Read it on AO3 to see it with the art.

Fic Summary: Juno Steel, pirate of the ship Carte Blanche, did not expect to net a mermaid today.

I give you: Juno Steel and the Brine of Deception

The day seemed ordinary when Juno woke up. He lay in his hammock, watching the square of light on the floor waver as the Carte Blanche rocked in the waves. Or maybe just because he was still really hungover. The crew had stayed up late making toasts and singing shanties last night, and that had involved quite a lot of rum.

“Ughh.” Juno sat up and began to unwrap his hair.

"Mornin', Mate Steel!" His roommatey, the exceptionally clever Rita, beamed at him from her hammock. "How are ya feeling?"

"Sick," Juno grumbled. He climbed out of his hammock and padded over to the washstand. "I've got to get off this rum."

"Yeah, Mate Steel, I told ya that swill Ms. Vespa brewed ain't good for ya."

"I know." He glanced at her in their broken mirror as he lit a candle, which hung from the ceiling in a glass bottle. "Did Buddy say if we're docking today?"

"Nah, she said last night that we’re just doin’ chores again." Rita watched Juno adjust his eyepatch in the mirror and rocked forward in her hammock. "Why? Did you wanna go ashore?"

"Eh, not especially." Juno tied his eyepatch on and started towards the door. "It's not like I mind being on this stinking ship where my legs feel like jelly and…." He sighed. "You know what, Rita, let's talk about this later. I've got a busy day to start on."

“See ya, Mate Steel.”

Juno stepped out into the hallway of the ship. He stuck his head into the galley to grab an orange from a bowl on the counter and plucked away the curling peel with his rough, uneven nails as he creaked into the hall. Down the hardwood floors and the few puddles from leaks, he bounded towards the staircase that led from the ship's quarters to the main dock.

“Captain’s waiting for you,” snarled Vespa as soon as Juno’s head appeared above decks.

“Morning to you too, Vespa.”

Vespa frowned and went back to twisting a knife around in her teeth. A briny sea breeze rustled the bandana tied around her forehead. “Good morning,” she muttered, like it was a concession. Then abruptly she crossed her tattooed arms and cleared her throat. “Now get a move on. The captain doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Duly noted.” Juno ducked past the first mate’s glare and strode down the deck. He tossed his orange peel overboard, but a breeze caught it, and spun it back onto the deck, where it was pinned abruptly under a heeled leather boot.

Captain Aurinko’s dark eye studied Juno from under her hat. In her broad-shouldered coat, criss-crossed with belts that dangled swords and pistols, she was intimidating with a streak of devilish intrigue, and she smirked as she lifted the orange peel from the deck. “You ought to clean up your trash, Juno.”

“Captain A.” Juno rubbed the back of his neck and sheepishly plucked the peel back from the captain. “Sorry about that.”

“Not to worry, darling. Shall we sit down?” Captain Aurinko neatly unfolded a scroll from her belt and spread it over one of the barrels nearby. She and Juno perched on surrounding barrels. “Our schedule is fairly lowkey today.” Her leather-gloved fingers traced Juno’s name, written in ink on a list. “I want you to check the nets and get some fishing done. Don’t complain,” she added, as Juno rolled his eye. “You’re the best at it, darling. After that, go over the stores with Jet, and then I’m sure Rita would appreciate it if you tied up your shared room a bit.”

“Seems like a slow day,” Juno observed. “What happened to ‘high adventure’ and all that?”

“That’s taking a back seat at the moment.” Captain Aurinko pursed her lips. “To be honest, darling, I worry that our current crew isn’t… properly equipped to handle missions of the capacity I have planned.” She rolled the map shut. “But that’s no concern of yours. On your way, darling. Come find me if you need anything.” The captain stood, dusted off her coat, and glided away to take her place at the ship’s wheel.

This job is somehow way more than I expected and not what I expected at all. Juno sloshed through the inch of water in the cargo hold. The nets lay all tangled together, and it took a few long minutes of blistering his fingers on their ropes to untangle them. Hell, I probably should have just stayed on the Mars continent.

And yet the Mars continent had never been home to him, not really. Not since the constables and the law had seen to condemn him over a few childhood tavern brawls and turn him into a wanted lady. As a child, Juno had always promised his brother (may his soul rest in peace) that he’d leave and be an explorer one day. That just ended up looking different than he imagined.

Still, Juno reflected as he dragged a net up the stairs. It felt like something was missing from his life. Some final adventure he needed to conquer, or maybe some event that would set a grand adventure in order. Right now he just existed, drinking rum in the mornings and evenings and sloshing about on the sea with all the rats and the treasures and people he didn’t know if he could trust. Rita aside, of course.

The net rigged into the pulleys, Juno cast it over into the ocean. Within a few seconds, it vanished beneath the rolling blue waves. Juno rested his arms on the railing and sighed. What he needed, once he finished his tasks today, was a good long nap, and maybe a cup of coffee instead of rum, assuming they still had coffee in the stores. Then he should mend the patch in his work breeches, and afterwards -

The weight in the net shifted abruptly. Juno frowned and stood up from his slouch. Sure enough, when he tested the rope, there was an uncommon weight to it that hadn’t been there a moment ago. A large school of fish? A small whale? Maybe an octopus. They’d caught an octopus last week, and Captain Aurinko still wrote with the ink they’d extracted from it. Whale oil could be useful too, plus good for trade too. Juno eagerly tightened the opening of the net and began to pull it up. It was heavy, but Juno was a strong lady. He ground his feet firmly to the deck and pulled again, harder, heave-to heave-to against the struggling of his catch. Finally, a splash confirmed that the net had risen above the surface of the water. With a few more final pulls, Juno hefted the net alongside the ship. He quickly tied the rope around a wooden post nearby, to secure it taut, and ran over to see what he’d netted; and there, lying in a tangle of rope of seaweed, was the most supremely beautiful man Juno had ever seen.

No, not a man, or at least, not a human one. Because, Juno realized upon closer inspection, humans didn’t have a silver-blue tail where legs should be, or gently pulsing slits along their throats, or webbed ears, and they certainly didn’t have nails as long and sharp as knives. The mermaid turned his head. His ink-black hair sat plastered to his face with dripping seawater, and when he opened his eyes, Juno saw that they were the same ink color all the way through. Blue scales glimmered along his cheekbones. His face and body sparkled with droplets of seawater, like small diamonds, and here and there wet strands of seaweed clung to his bare chest and arms. He was utterly terrifying, and yet, Juno had never seen anything so exquisite.

“Well?” hissed the mermaid.

Juno blinked. “Well, what?”

“Oh, honestly.” It was hard to tell with no irises, but Juno thought the mermaid might be rolling his eyes. “You pulled me out, you quite clearly wanted me for something. I suppose you’re one of those humans that eats mermaids, aren’t you?”

“Huh? What the hell, of course not.”

“Hmmm.” The mermaid plucked a lock of seaweed from his neck and flicked it back into the sea. “Now you’ll say you’ve grabbed me by accident.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He imitated Juno’s tone and smirked, slightly. His teeth were just as sharp as his nails. “You’ve never seen a mer before, have you?”

“‘Course I have,” Juno scoffed, suddenly on the defensive. “In… storybooks and stuff.” The mermaid lifted his eyebrows. “Listen, I’m new to this whole pirate thing, okay? I just wanted to grab some fish for my crew’s larder. You weren’t exactly part of the plan.”

“Ah.” The mermaid shuffled forwards and wrapped his hands around the ropes above his head. “So you’re not going to eat me.”

“I’ll chuck you back in, if you want.”

The mermaid giggled. He leaned forward and reached one of his hands through the net to grab Juno’s chin. Juno jolted and, with instinct, brought up his knife and pressed it to the mer’s sternum. “So defensive,” the mermaid purred. His thumb swiped over Juno’s jawline. “You have a shaving nick right there.” The very tip of his nail pressed into Juno’s skin for a minute, and then he retreated. “Well,” he said. “I’m afraid you can’t chuck me back in, love. You see, in your eagerness to haul me up onto this rowboat of yours, you tightened your net quite fiercely. Now my poor tail is injured. I can’t possibly swim.”

“What?”

“So you may as well cut me down. It looks like you’ll be stuck with me for a while.”

Juno narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Oh yes, because I would lie so I could spend several days hanging around with a crew of pirates? You’re not that cute, love.” He reached out his hand again. “But, if you’re so determined, I’ll tell you my name. You may call me Glass.”

“Glass. Hi, I’m Juno Steel.” Juno sighed heavily. The Captain’s gonna love this. He pulled the net over the railing and lowered it carefully to the deck. Glass smiled up at him as Juno freed him. Juno stepped back and rubbed his forehead. “Great,” he sighed. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you now?”

“That depends, how adventurous are you?”

“God damn it.” Juno tossed the net aside. “It’s too early in the morning for me to have a mermaid hitting on me. You just - stay there while I go get the Captain.”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” Glass called after him, but Juno pretended not to hear.

II.

“So,” said Buddy delicately. “This is quite a predicament.”

“I’ll say,” Vespa snarled, smacking her fist into her palm. “We have a crowded crew already, and then Steel goes and lands us with an injured fish to take care of.”

“Hey, don’t drag me into this.” Juno raised his hands innocently as Vespa shot a glare in his direction. “Listen, I’m not the one responsible for this. It was this guy who swam right into my net.”

“Oh sure, the fish is to blame for your stupidity.”

“The fish can hear you,” Glass trilled.

The crew stood in their spare hold, positioned awkwardly around a basin of seawater. Glass lay primping in the water, finger-curling his hair and watching the five pirates from under his long lashes. Juno couldn’t help but notice that the mermaid’s gaze seemed mostly to be fixed on him. Rita, who watched countless plays about mermaids, hung star-struck at Juno’s elbow, clutching her face in her hands.

“Ain’t he so preeeeeetty, Mate Steel?” she whispered into Juno’s ear as the captain and the first mate deliberated amongst themselves. “He’s just like one of them old paintings, or like, like something right out of a play, ya know? He’s kinda scary too, though, but in a really nifty way, don’tcha think! It just - just -” She scrunched her forehead as if searching for the words.

Frannie, the parrot perched on Rita’s shoulder, squawked, “Shiver me timbers!”

“Yeah, exactly!” Rita beamed. “It shivers me timbers! Shivers ‘em real good, don’t you think he’s pretty, Mate Steel?”

Glass lolled in his basin, running his sharp nails over the fine webbing at the end of his tail. He winked at Juno. Somehow, the lady got the sense that Glass could hear everything Rita was saying; but more than that, it was as if he could hear everything Juno was thinking. Like those solid black eyes could see things normal eyes couldn’t.

“He’s something, alright,” Juno murmured.

“What I do not understand is how he came to be injured.” The quartermaster, Jet, stood by Rita’s other side with his arms crossed. Jet always wore the same thing - baggy brown breeches, a ragged white shirt, and a brown jacket so enormous that it could probably serve as a backup sail if the Carte Blanche ever needed one. He wore his long silver hair tied up in a ponytail. Despite their difference in personality, pirating ability, and three feet of height, Jet and Rita were close friends, second only to Rita’s bond with Juno. “I do not believe our simple fishing net would be strong enough to damage a mermaid’s tail.”

“Well, you’d have to ask him about it.”

“There is no need to be defensive, Juno.”

“Whatever, you’re all on my case, and I’m getting pretty tired of it, big guy.”

Across the room, Vespa and Buddy drew away from each other and turned to face the rest of the group. “Alright, darlings,” said the captain. “We’ve thought this over -”

“More like we’ve argued it,” Vespa muttered.

“Peace, love.” The captain laid her hand on Vespa’s arm. “After some deliberation, Vespa and I have decided that we cannot abandon the mermaid back to the sea with an injury. We may be pirates, but we are not monsters. He will stay here until he recovers from his injuries.”

Glass giggled and slid his tail back into the water. “So generous of you.”

“You’re welcome, darling.” Captain Aurinko smoothed back a stray lock of her hair. “Additionally, since Juno was the one that injured him, Juno can be the one to attend to him.”

“What.”

“You heard me, dear. You’ll bring him his food, refill the water in his basin, and see to any medical needs he may have before he’s recovered. Any questions?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a question, how come I’ve got to -”

“Then if there are no questions, the meeting is dismissed.” Buddy smiled and took Vespa’s

arm. “We’ll see you all later. First we have some things to... attend to.” Vespa shot one last glare in the others’ direction before following the captain away to their cabin.

“Well,” said Jet. “If that is all, I will return to my repairs of the Ruby 7 lifeboat.”

“Hang on, you can’t all just -”

“I’ll go with ya!” Rita said, ignoring Juno’s protests. “Bye-bye, Mate Steel and Mistah Mermaid!” And she skipped after Jet, Frannie flapping behind them both.

Juno sighed heavily and turned back to Glass. The mermaid had his arms folded on the rim of the basin, and his head cocked at an inquisitive and seductive angle. He smiled. “Well,” he said. “It seems that it’s just you and me.”

“Don’t get too used to it, I’ve got lots of chores to do.”

“Oh, but the Captain said you needed to look after me,” Glass beamed. “Doesn’t that mean I’m at the top of your chores list?”

Juno glared down at the mermaid. “Fine. Tell me what you want and make it quick.”

“Oh, it’s quite simple. I just want someone to talk to.”

The pirate blinked. “Are you kidding? You want me to hang around here and talk to you?”

For a moment, the mermaid’s flirtatious smile vanished. His inky eyes narrowed, and he glanced away from Juno before speaking again. “I’m not trying to force you if you don’t wish, Juno, I simply… hoped to get to know you better.” He glanced back at Juno quickly, and Juno started.

He’s not… no. He can’t be. Not me.

So he shrugged and grabbed a nearby stool. “Sure,” he said. “Great.” He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I’d like to hear more about you, of course.” Glass lifted his eyebrows. “Juno Steel. Juno. A goddess on the high seas. Although - pardon me - you don’t seem entirely suited to this profession.”

“Yeah.” Juno fiddled with a spare thread on his blouse. “Didn’t plan to be a pirate, originally. I wanted to go into law, but then I found myself on the other side of it. With my brother.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’d always planned to leave the Mars continent together, but then...” The pirate sighed deeply. “He… he’s not around anymore.”

Glass watched Juno quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Juno cleared his throat. “Anyway, Rita and I have been friends for decades. Business partners. She’s a locksmith, and I’m an informant, so sometimes we worked together.”

“I see.” Glass leaned forward on his elbows, and his smile sharpened a degree. “Not such an upright lady, are you?”

“Hey, careful. I still have my morals.” Juno crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back. “Anyway, she did a job for Captain Aurinko and put two and two together that she’d been hired by a pirate. Suggested that I could give the Captain any information she needed, and together Rita and I got her out of a tricky spot. So, the Cap offered us spots on her crew.”

To Juno’s surprise, as he narrated to the mermaid, he found himself enjoying the conversation. Glass was a good listener, and seemed interested in Juno’s life in a way that few people had been for a long time. Every lady needed to feel special every now and then, and Juno was no exception.

“So,” he said eventually. “Mermaid. What’s your life story?”

The mermaid still smiled, but something about his demeanor had changed. “Oh, Juno,” he said. “I don’t have a story, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t tell it to anyone.”

“Huh.”

Glass sighed and leaned back in the water, lounging with his arms on either side of the basin. “I’ll leave you be,” he said theatrically. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“Yeah.” Juno got up, feeling strangely regretful. “No problem.”

Juno finished up his chores and took a nap to sleep off what remained of his hangover. Afterwards, it was time for dinner, and for the first time since joining the crew, he didn’t eat with everyone else. Instead, he brought two plates to Glass’s room and they ate together, chatting about things they’d seen on the sea.

“I swear, it looked like an underwater city. Whole thing, made of coral.”

“Oh, I’ve been there. It’s not a very long swim from here.”

“Really?”

“Mmm. Pretty place.”

And Juno kept thinking about the mermaid that night, as he lay in his hammock. The ship’s rocking and Rita’s snoring usually lulled him to sleep, but tonight felt different. Every time he tried to doze off, he was struck by the thought that Glass lay just down the hall, with his dark eyes and his sharp smile. Maybe the mermaid was lonely. Maybe he was having trouble sleeping, too, and would want company.

Finally Juno’s curiousity overpowered him, and he got out of bed. Rita and Frannie were both deep asleep, but he put on his slippers to be extra quiet, then lit a candle. He was about to slip out the door when he heard a loud thud. But not from the direction of Glass’s room. It sounded like it came from the ship’s treasury.

What the hell?

He snatched his pistol and slipped out of the door. Juno crept along the hall, keeping close to the wall with his candle outstretched before him and his pistol at his side. He moved along the right-hand side, so that nothing could creep into his blind spot, but still the creaking of the ship and the uneven sway of it unnerved him. Again, the clinking noise sounded from the treasury. He could see the doorway. Juno took a deep breath, counted to five, and whipped around the corner.

Glass looked up from the chest he was elbow-deep reaching into and frowned. “Ah,” he said. “Well, hello.”

It was Glass, but… human. As far as Juno could tell. He had legs, normal ears; his eyes were regular eyes, with gorgeous dark brown irises. He wore a short white dress belted with a corset, as well as a knife strapped to one of his distractingly gorgeous thighs.

The pistol trembled in Juno’s hands. “What,” he breathed, “the hell.”

“Careful, now, there’s no need to wave that thing around.” Glass raised his hands, both of which clutched long ropes of pearls. His teeth were less prominent, but still looked thrillingly sharp. “I can explain everything.”

“Yeah?” Juno stepped closer and pointed his gun at the mer’s - the human’s - heart. “Start talking.”

“I understand this is confusing, Juno. In some ways, I’m glad you’re the one who caught me. It means we get to have a secret.” Glass stepped closer to the pirate. “Just for the two of us.”

“You were a mer,” Juno sputtered. “You were injured.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” Glass covered the quivering barrel of Juno’s pistol and pointed it away from himself. “Juno, listen to me. Whatever you think I am, you’re wrong. But I can tell you. I will tell you. I’ll tell you everything, if you want to know, but you must promise me you won’t alert your captain.”

“Why not?” Juno snapped. “You’re robbing us. You lied your way onto our ship and - and just so you could get our shit while we slept?”

“Well, it’s not really yours, now is it?” He was so close now. Juno could feel Glass’s warm breath on his cheek, followed a few seconds later by his knuckles. A shiver ran through him involuntarily. Glass chuckled. “I trust you, Juno, and I can’t have you giving me away now. Please.” He leaned down and whispered in Juno's ear, “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The words drifted into the pirate’s mind and melted over his senses like slow honey. He shivered in the brine-aired night, and in the warmth radiating from Glass’s presence. It was a sensation so strong, so all-encompassing, that for a second Juno didn’t even notice that warmth had retreated. He snapped to his senses just in time to watch Glass disappear out the door.

“Hey - HEY!” he shouted. “Get back here!” Juno sprinted after Glass as the long-limbed thief bounded up the stairs towards the deck, and into the open air. The deck’s rocking motions were more obvious here, swaying Juno back and forth on his own feet as he fired a warning shot into the night air. “Glass, you bastard -! get back here!”

Glass paid him no heed. Dripping pearls and laughing, he crossed the deck in a burst of speed. Juno stumbled after him. He can’t get away, the pirate thought, he has nowhere to go - and as soon as the thought entered his mind, Glass leapt over the edge of the railing and out into the open night.

“NO!” Juno shouted. His momentum carried him the rest of the way, and he ran right into the banister, wrapping his arms around it. Below, he saw a flash of silver scales as Glass disappeared beneath the rolling waves. Juno stared, dumbfounded. He had no time to process, or to call for the captain, before suddenly the ship lurched again beneath his feet and sent him tumbling headfirst into the waves.

III.

The water crashed into him. Juno gasped as the cold ensnared him, but the gasp let in a rush of frigid water into his lungs, making him sputter. His arms struggled weakly. His fists clutched handfuls of seawater as the weight of his clothes and the tossing of the waves dragged him under. For a singular moment his head parted the surface of the waves, but before he could even taste oxygen, the water closed over him again. Juno couldn’t breathe. His lungs burned. All he could feel was that burning and the numbing coldness. And then, suddenly, he felt something wrap around his waist.

Juno looked down and gave a garbled yelp of surprise. Glass was at his side, holding him close. He wore the strings of pearls around his neck, and he wrapped one of them gently around Juno, holding them together in the tumult of the water. Juno fell still. Black dots swam before his vision, and the cold seemed to sting his bones, but the mer’s arms were warm, and Juno instinctively drew closer to him.

“Juno?” Glass murmured. His voice sounded distant. “Juno, stay awake. I can help you breathe, but you have to stay awake -” His hands clutched Juno’s shoulders, but the detective could barely feel them. Glass’s face moved closer to his. “No, stay awake - I can only help you if I breathe for you, and I can’t do that if you’re not awake to say so - no no no, keep your eyes open for me! Please, Juno -” His grip tightened in almost frenzy. The black dots blurred the edges of Juno’s vision. His entire body felt made up of this pain intensifying in his lungs. “Juno, I can save you, just give me a yes, please don’t black out, please don’t -”

Juno could barely feel, but with what little strength he had left he tried to nod. His forehead tipped against the mer’s shoulder. Glass drew back and cradled Juno’s face in his hands, and then, strongly, he pressed his warm lips onto Juno’s mouth. Oxygen entered his body slowly, like warmth dripping slowly down his throat. Juno felt something like life beating in his chest, and he almost tasted sea salt, but before he could reflect on anything he was feeling, the black dots swelled to cover his vision, and everything faded away.

When Juno came to, he found himself lying on a cool stone. The world above him slowly came into vision: a cool, dark cave, striped with damp vines that dangled from the ceiling. He felt cold water lapping at his ankles, and heard soft singing in the air in a haunting language he didn’t recognize. Weakly, he lifted his heavy head and looked around to get his bearings. Through the mouth of the cave, Juno could see the sun rising on the horizon, and the golden glow bled into the cave as if it were paint spilled across the water’s surface. Glass lounged on another rock, drawing ripples in the water with his fingertips, still in his mer form and glistening with pearls. After a few seconds all of Juno’s senses fell into place, and he realized the mermaid was the source of the music.

“Glass?” he called weakly.

Glass stopped singing and looked over. His shining face lit into a smile. “You’re awake.” He rolled off of the rock and vanished with a faint splash into the water, and then a moment later emerged dripping wet by Juno’s side. The hand shifted and a moment later Glass’s face appeared above him.

“Juno,” he sighed. “Here, let me help you sit up. How are you feeling?”

“Unghh.” Juno rubbed his head as the mer helped him into a sitting position. “What the hell happened?”

“You blacked out.” Glass shifted back a few inches to give Juno breathing room. “Are you feeling alright now?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Juno sat up higher on the rock. Glass leaned on the side, with his arms folded and his head tipped to one side. His scales shimmered. “You saved my life,” Juno said. “Didn’t you?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you die, Juno.”

“You kissed me.”

Glass stirred his fingertips through the foam brushing up against the rock.

“You kissed me. You stole from my crew, and then you saved my life. Why the hell would you do that?” The water lapped quietly at the edges of the cave.

The air misted before Glass’s lips while he breathed, and his gills pulsed. A drop of water slid down the slope of his forehead.. “I had a very straightforward plan,” he murmured eventually. “I’d been tracking your ship for a while now, you see. I saw that big fellow rowing above me one morning, so I swam to the surface to see what was going on. When I noticed that chest he was loading onto your ship, I decided to track you all. I knew you must have some kind of treasure, and I wanted it. I hid under your prow, or swam near you. Then one morning, a net dropped, so I seized my chance and swam into it, and then….” He turned his head and fixed his black eyes on Juno. “Well, then you messed up my whole plan.”

Juno started to speak, but Glass talked right over him.

“You, all fascinating and charming, with your fed-up attitude and your adorable pout.” He smiled. “I don’t meet people very often. I’m usually on the move, either on land or in the water, and I never have time to… to chat with someone I find attractive. And then,” he chuckled, “I decided to forget you and go through with my plan anyway - and you came to stop me! Leaving me to save you, in the end.” He shrugged delicately. “What can I say, darling? You are beautiful. I want to know everything about you.”

Glass closed his eyes and rested his head on his folded arms. Juno watched him, with his heart drum beating in his chest. Around them the water was turning golden. Juno watched him, and thought, He thinks I’m beautiful.

“What are you, exactly?”

The mermaid lifted his head. “Hmm?”

“I mean, you’re a mermaid, right? But then when I saw you in the night, you had legs, your eyes were normal -”

“Ah. Weren’t you listening?” Glass smirked. “Shapeshifter, love. I can be a mer or a human as it suits me, but I’m never just one for very long.”

“Huh.” Juno thought about that for a moment. He could feel his pulse in his throat. “And you’re a thief, apparently.”

“You can have your pearls back if it bothers you that badly.”

“Honestly?” Juno took Glass’s hand in his. “Right now I kind of just want to pay you back for saving me.”

Glass looked up. He met Juno’s eyes and let the pirate draw him up onto the rock, and as the golden light spilled far enough across the water to light them up, they kissed.

It was like oxygen-giving, but better. Glass’s lips were soft and sweet, and he tasted like the ocean. Juno felt the sunlight falling across their shoulders, and both of Glass’s hands twisted gently in the front of Juno’s shirt. He dragged him closer and their kiss grew deeper, with Glass’s tongue slipping into Juno’s open mouth, and Juno wrapped his legs around the mer’s waist. They didn’t break apart until it was physically hard to breathe, and even then, only far enough for the mermaid to press his forehead to the pirate’s.

“Glass isn’t my real name,” he said, breathless.

“Yeah, no shit,” Juno gasped. “Christ, you’re a good kisser. Okay. What is your real name?”

“It’s in Mer. You won’t be able to pronounce it.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

“Nąuhréyęvhve.”

“What the fuck kind of name is that.”

The mermaid with the unpronounceable name laughed and dropped a quick kiss onto Juno’s cheek. “It means dancer.”

“Yeah, I still can’t pronounce it. I’m just gonna say Nureyev.”

“Nureyev.” The mermaid tried it, head tipped to the side. “Nureyev” He turned to face Juno again and smiled. “Hmm. That does have a nice ring to it.”

And they kissed again while the sunlight grew around them.

IV.

Captain Aurinko liked to think of herself as a level-headed person, but right now, Juno Steel had her worried. “It’s no big deal,” Vespa had told her. “He vanishes at the same time as the mermaid, so what? The mermaid guy probably talked his ear off, and Steel just got annoyed and chucked him overboard.”

“Then where is Juno?”

“It is possible we overlooked some part of the ship when we checked,” Jet suggested.

Vespa smirked. “Or he’s screwing the mermaid somewhere.”

“How would that -” Rita had begun, but Buddy decided that Rita should go check the stores, and Vespa should go check the crow’s nest, before they could have that conversation.

Now, she stood on the deck by the ship’s wheel and watched the horizon through her telescope. All she saw were the unchanging waves. Buddy sighed and lowered the telescope from her eye. “Come on, Juno,” she murmured. “This crew won’t work without you.”

Behind her, the deck creaked under footsteps. “We checked the crow’s nest,” said Vespa. “Didn’t see anything.”

“Us, either,” called Rita as she and Jet emerged from the lower stairs. “Mate Steel just ain’t here at all.”

“Rraw! Mate Steel ain’t here!” squaked Frannie.

Jet furrowed his brows. “I think,” he began heavily, “that perhaps we must consider -”

“No,” said Buddy. “We’re not giving up yet.”

“Buddy.” Vespa laid a hand on her arm. “Listen, we don’t know what this mer guy might have done, okay? We should start makin’ the assumption - Rita? Are you okay?”

Rita had begun to cry, holding the end of Buddy’s long coat and using it to dab her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, matey,” she sniffled. “It’s just, I’m rememberin’ that in plays mermaids eat people sometimes, and I don’t want Mate Steel to get e-eaten, ya know? An’ that mer-guy had such really sharp teeth an’ I don’t wan Mate Steel to di-i-i-ieeeee.” She sobbed loudly and blew her nose on Buddy’s lace trim.

At that moment, a loud splash sounded from the ocean. The four turned around in time to watch the Juno and the mermaid course up on a jet of seawater and collapse onto the deck, where they lay sputtering in a puddle. Juno’s clothes clung to him, soaking wet, and the mer wore a tattered white dress. “Hey, guys,” Juno coughed.

“What the hell?!” exclaimed Vespa.

“MATE STEEL!” Rita ran across the deck and threw her arms around Juno’s shoulders. “You’re alive! Oh, Mate Steel, we was so WORRIED, I thought somethin’ terrible’d happened to ya, where’ve you BEEN Mate Steel? Did he kidnap ya? Did he hurtcha?” She glared at the mermaid and fumbled for her little dagger. “I swear, if you hurt one curl on my Mate Steel’s head, I’m gonna -”

“I’m fine, Rita.” Juno sat up and helped the mermaid to his feet. Buddy blinked, sure she was seeing something wrong - perhaps the rum had gone to her head. The mermaid had legs now. “Guys,” said Juno. “Nureyev’s here to return some stuff he took.”

“Oh.” The mermaid laughed nervously. “I thought I was just dropping you off.”

“Nureyev.”

“Fine, fine.” He reached into his pockets and pulled out all the strings of pearls that should have been in the Carte Blanche’s treasure stores. Buddy raised an eyebrow as the mer-turned-human - Nureyev - held them out to her. She took them from his hands and eyed him.

“I was under the impression that mer usually only have tails,” she said lightly.

“I’m a shapeshifter.”

Vespa and Jet said, “a what?”

“A SHAPESHIFTER?!” Rita exclaimed. “Wow!!! That’s so COOL, Mistah Nureyev! Like, like in that really great play that came out last month, Squares and Triangles and Also Sirens? Wow, that play is so GOOD! Can you turn into anythin’ you want, or just a mer and a human?”

“More importantly,” said Buddy, “how long were you planning to use your abilities to rob us?”

Rita fell silent. Nureyev smirked. “Quite a while,” he admitted. “Juno simply… altered my initial plan when he spotted me last night.”

“Ah. So that’s where you’ve been.” Buddy smiled as Juno blushed and ducked his head. “Well, it seems there’s simply one way to resolve this whole mix-up.”

“Yeah!” Vespa drew her scimitar and pointed it at Nureyev. “I say we tie him up and make him walk the plank!”

“Rraw! Walk the plank!” agreed Frannie.

“That is impractical,” said Jet. “If he walks the plank, he will simply transform underwater and swim away. I propose that we throw him in the brig until we reach port. We can decide from there.”

“Hey, c’mon, none of this is making sense,” snapped Juno. “He gave all the pearls back.”

“You’ve certainly had a change of attitude.”

“Yeah, well you could use one, Vespa, and here’s another thing -”

“Enough, darlings!” Buddy held up her hands. “That’s enough. I have an alternative proposition.” She marched across the deck and stopped before Nureyev. “You possess interesting skills, Nureyev. Skills that I think our team would find very useful. And, since I’m sure Juno will vouch for your character, judging from the fact that he’s wearing your lipstick -”

“Hey-”

“- you have an in.” She held out her hand. “If you want it, darling, there’s a place for you here aboard the Carte Blanche.”

Nureyev glanced over at Juno, who stood watching him with hopeful eyes. A smile grew across his face. “Well,” he said. “I must say, it’s nice to finally be appreciated.” And he shook Buddy’s hand.

~~~~

“...aaaand that’s my idea for a stream about us!” Rita set down her stack of papers and beamed around at the rest of the crew. “Whaddaya think? It’s good, ain’t it?”

“It is exceptional,” said Jet in a grave tone. “I am moved to tears.”

“I dunno, I think it’s a little unrealistic in a few parts.” Juno gestured to the portion marked as chapter five. “I don’t really see why I’d let a mermaid kiss me while I’m drowning.”

“You totally would, Mistah Steel!” Rita clutched her story defensively. “You’re just horny for death!”

“I’m what?”

“In my case,” said Nureyev, over the laughter of the rest of the crew, “I don’t see why I’ve been characterized as a mermaid.”

“Every pirate stream has to have a mermaid, Mistah Nureyev? Ain’t you ever seen High Seas of Saturn? The Ghost Ship that Also Has Zombies? Pirates of the Carribean 207: Oh My

God When Will This Franchise End?”

“Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell, I’m afraid.” Nureyev shifted Juno’s position on his lap and rubbed the lady’s thigh. “My introduction scene was on point, though. After all, Juno does love me in fishnets.”

“Shut up,” Juno mumbled, blushing. Nureyev chuckled and kissed his neck.

Buddy took another sip of her tea. “You’ve created quite an interesting story, darling. I’m glad it’s kept you entertained. I know our long periods between heists can get tedious, but I’d say this has been fun for all of us.”

“Oh yeah, this part.” Vespa waved a section of Rita’s script. She’d been writing notes on Rita’s finished pages throughout the reading process. “Where it says my arms are covered in tattoos. I’ve only got twenty tattoos and only six of them are on my arms, so I thought that was kind of unrealistic, kid.”

“I’m taking artistic license, Miz Vespa!”

Vespa narrowed her eyes and grabbed her knife. “Are you saying my tattoos aren’t already artistic?”

“N-no! Fine, I’ll change it!” Rita snatched the page back and began to doodle furiously on it. Jet leaned close.

“Do not listen to the haters,” he whispered. “You have created a masterpiece of television.”

“Thanks, Mistah Big Guy.”

“You are welcome.”

“Well, this has been entertaining.” Nureyev tapped his fingertips on Juno’s knee. “If there’s nothing else that you require, the two of us will probably go to bed…”

“No, you can’t go to bed!” Rita frowned. “Whaddaya mean? We’re just gettin’ started!”

“Rita, you’ve read us your entire story,” said Juno. “What else is there.”

“I’ve read you the pilot episode.” Rita reached behind her and grabbed an enormous stack of blank notepads. “But now, you’ve all got to help me plot the rest of the first season!”

The rest of the crew looked at each other. Juno sighed and got up from Nureyev’s lap.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll get some coffee started. Looks like we’re gonna be here a while.”

The End

Big thanks to @in-consist, @awalkingparadox11, @scintillart, @hemaris, and @acadieum for all the incredible work they did!

#happy birthday @rudzik-art!#love you #the penumbra podcast #juno steel #peter nureyev #rita penumbra #jet siquliak #buddy aurinko #mermaid AU #the art in this is incredible #do yourself a favor and go see it on AO3 #or see if the artists have posted it here on their personal blogs

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