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threadofdestiny · 3 years

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Magnolia (Bakugou x F!Reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Taglist: @bakugous-mamas, @bnhastories, @brittkimm, @ ellieitstimetosleep, @belladonna-the-aphrodisiac

Chapter 1, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Crumbling down

"You can't be serious, Kacchan...This is going way to fast! I am sure that we could make him keep quiet until we are past the traditional engagement period! If not, I could send her to some of my relatives until the rumors had died down. Away from the capital. Away from society."

"Damn Deku! Are you really that fucking starry-eyed to take a chance like that? Your sister was attacked a mere few hours after you were publicly declared as the heir to the throne! As if she would be safe anywhere else than with you or me."

"P-Perhaps no one realized what happened on the festival. Even if, such a swift action will only make people more suspicious, maybe even casting you in a bad light! In the worst case they'll think you've laid hands on her before your wedding."

"What do I care about that? Let them think that I couldn't keep my hands off of her long enough. In their eyes, I'm already the bad guy anyway. It's better than having followers of Shindo trying to spread lies and people to start questioning the hell out of you in response. When they are going to question her reputation, they are going to question yours as well!"

"Like that's even remotely better, when they are going to question yours!"

"Are you deaf, you dumbass? It does not fucking matter! They should fear me anyway!", the shogun interrupted his interlocutor in a sharp voice before continuing his explanation a bit more quietly but just as urgently after he paused for a second to take a breath:"He could lay a claim on her, forcing you to concede, if you want to prevent a scandal. You'd be forced to break off the engagement between her and me to give her to Shindo at worst. Do you really want to give that slimy liar the power he would automatically receive as the brother-in-law of the next emperor?", Bakugou growled dangerously agitated behind the closed doors of Izuku's study.

All the servants of the household had to retire earlier that night by Lady Midoriya's instructions in order to put the illusion of privacy to their noble masters minds. The now dead silence in the halls of the mansion was only broken by the dull sounds of the quarreling men which sounds penetrated through the thin walls, giving the lonely almost creepy mood a dramatic atmosphere. The banging of shattering porcelain and the vigorous shouts of the men, startled the two lady's who were standing in the hallway all alone by themselves. Sobbing, (Y/N) pressed her head against her quivering mother's shoulder, flinching every single time when either one of the men exchanged too harsh words with one another. Both ladies listened to the heated argument between the furious shogun and the equal upset head of their family, not daring to interrupt them in any way. With trembling fingers, the young girl clawed at the fabric of Lady Midoriya's kimono, hiccuping every few seconds due to the endless tears that streamed down her face. Her mother tried to calm her down by gently stroking over her now loose hair, but the resounding sounds of the quarrel, made her flinch over and over again.

"I'm so sorry... I-I'm so so sorry!", (Y/N) repeated desperately against her mother's neck, who tried to soothe her daughter, by rocking her back and forth like a child that cried out of the loss of its most precious toy. "Shh, you're not to blame. Everything will be fine!", she whispered into (Y/N)'s hair as she hugged her tighter against her soft, motherly chest, hoping to shoo her daughters inner fears away. Clanking and rumbling sounds came from the study as Bakugou began to shout again:"Do you think I feel like tying a damn, troublesome woman to my leg right now? I've got more important things to do than to deal with your family's shit, but we don't have a fucking choice, because all the other ways this could turn out are even shittier!", Bakugou's aggressive voice echoed through the walls, like the roaring of thousand thunderstorms as he loudly stomped around the closed room like a rampant bull. Wincing, (Y/N) dug her face deeper into her mother's shoulder as she heard him talking about her like she was a nuisance. The young girl clutched at Lady Midoriya, like she was the only thing that prevented her from drowning in her own sorrows. As if the woman was the only one that could save her from the path she would have to take after that life changing night.

How could she have been so careless? What had she done to deserve that fate? By a single moment of not thinking straight, her entire world had turned upside down once again. Only to boost her unstoppable fate to the immeasurable. With each passing second her control over the situation had slipped away, like grains of sand incessantly trickling between her fingers. She had conjured up a disaster that had fueled his dislike against her and her family and had managed to become a burden for her brother and her fiancé in a mere few hours. How should she survive such a start to her predetermined future and turn it around for the better?

"Kacchan, please! It was not my sister's fault that she was attacked. If anything, it was my fault. I should have taken better care of her. I should have anticipated that people would try to use her to get to me.", Izuku replied in anguish. Even through the barrier, (Y/N) could hear her brother's voice breaking as he blamed himself. He, too, was on the verge of tears. She heard it loud and clear. Her compassionate brother blamed himself, though he could do even less about Shindo's act than she could. If she had just stayed with him, or asked him to accompany her, none of this would have had to happen.

It had taken an eternity until both men had calmed down enough that their voices could no longer be heard through the thin walls. Another eternity had passed until, all at once, heavy footsteps sounded near the door before it was pushed open with a loud thud, revealing the illuminated study. Wincing, mother and daughter pulled apart as the looming shogun appeared in the doorway. His vermilion eyes scanned the hallway until they finally landed on his quivering fiance. When he caught sight of her teary eyes, his grim expression softened minimally, while he beckoned her over with a gesture of his right hand:"Come here, girl. There are some things we need to discuss!"

Nodding obediently, (Y/N) followed her future husband into the room where her brother was standing by the window, looking dejectedly through the cold glass. The darkness swallowed up the details of the garden behind and plunged everything into barely discernible shadows. The dimmed light of the individual candles, gleaned on the glassy surface and reflected Izuku's lamenting face. Without hesitation, the young girl knelt down on the soft tatami mats before stretching out her hands in front of her in a pleading pose, asking for forgiveness. Her forehead almost touched the ground as she quietly raised her thin voice: "My actions has brought grave repercussions upon our family. No matter what the consequences will be, I will endure them without hesitation!", the youngest Midoriya announced with a trembling voice, before she heard her brother draw in his breath sharply. "By the gods, (Y/N)! You can't help what happened tonight! I should kneel before you and beg for forgiveness!", exclaimed Izuku after turning to his sister, trembling resentfully. With brisk steps, he had run up to the youngest Midoriya to hastily pull her up by her upper arm, pressing her against him in a firm hug. Bakugou was silent as he watched the spectacle for a few moments with an unmoved face, before shortly after he cleared his throat to draw the sibling's attention:"We don't have time for this sentimental nonsense!", the blond shogun growled softly as he turned his gaze exclusively on his fiance's quivering frame, to address her directly:"It doesn't matter at all who is to blame for this fuss. As you had said, we're in a predicament now. So either way, you're not going to avoid having to endure the consequences.", he added as he busily began pacing the room with long strides. Izuku broke away from his sister, nodding sadly, as he placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "Bakugou is right.", the newly appointed heir confirmed as he briefly pressed his fingers against his sister's collarbone, looking her straight in the eyes. Nodding, the young girl bit her lower lip as she waited for the consequences to be revealed.

An uneasy feeling spread through the area of her stomach as she gazed with teary eyes from her brother to her grimly looking betrothed, just to look back to Izuku, when he spoke up again: "I am sorry, sister, but we do not have time to wait for the proper engagement period to be over. To counteract certain rumors we will have to hold the wedding at the end of this week. That means you'll be leaving together with Bakugou in a few days to accompany him to his lands!", Izuku explained softly as he sadly averted his eyes.

A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine as her brother uttered the words she had secretly feared to hear. She hadn't even noticed that she had been holding her breath with pent-up tension, but she couldn't explain otherwise where the slight dizziness came from after she finally exhaled thin air out of her aching lungs. Nodding dejectedly, the youngest Midoriya clutched the thin fabric of her robe before letting her gaze drift to the side to look ultimately at her future husband's face. When her glassy eyes collided with Bakugou's vermilion ones, her breath caught within her throat for a brief moment. All of a sudden, it felt as if the youngest Midoriya's heart had burst out of her chest with all its might. It raced in unison with her thoughts as she slowly became aware of the full extent of her situation, clenching achingly, as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

Gone was the time to prepare herself for her inevitable future. Gone were the future opportunities to get to know Bakugou before their wedding. Gone was the vast amount of time she previously had left with her family, suddenly vanishing into thin air. All at once the memories she could have collected with them before her departure were torn away from her because of one single moment. One single mistake. One single power hungry man. In a mere few days she would belong to Bakugou Katsuki. She would have to ultimately leave her home to go with a man she had met only twice. Never in her life had she left her family for more than a few hours at once.

Forcing herself to come to her senses, (Y/N) ripped herself out of her depressing thoughts, shaking her head absently, before she averted her gaze away from the Shogun's captivating expression. She nodded again, accepting her fate, as she swallowed hard. "I-I see!", she murmured relentingly, as she turned her saddened gaze back to her older brother, who's eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Good, then we can now move on to the short term planning. We don't have much time to prepare, since I can't postpone the journey.", declared Bakugou bluntly, without trying to sugarcoat the situation as he sat down at the table and picked up a quill and some sheets of paper. With a faltering breath, (Y/N) listened to her future husband's words, after she and her brother had joined him at the table. Izuku sighed heavily as he briefly reached for his sister's hand to give it a firm squeeze before responding to his guest's statement: "...That would mean we barely have time to organize a proper ceremony!", he remarked gloomily as he briefly glanced in (Y/N)'s direction. Bakugou, however, just shrugged disinterested, before replying nonchalantly: "I don't mind. I'm not interested in throwing a huge celebration and having my feet kissed by some lickspittles, anyway.", the shogun grumbled, before he suddenly paused, turning his eyes towards his fiance. (Y/N) took a moment to realize that Bakugou was looking at her questioningly. He hadn't said it, but it seemed surprisingly like he was waiting for her opinion. The young girl blinked a few times before she dared to speak up: "A-ah.. a small ceremony sounds pleasant, I guess. P-Perhaps only with our closest confidants. It would be quite... private.", she breathed uncertainly, though truthfully, while she tilted her head to the side in thanks. When Bakugou nodded in satisfaction, the youngest Midoriya relaxed a tiny bit, watching how her betrothed began to write down some notes on the blank paper. The scratching of the quill on the paper echoed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room, before Izuku cleared his throat to share his own thoughts as well.

"We already handled most of the details in the previous contract. However, I have decided that I would like to send my sisters personal maid with her, so that she has someone around her who is not a stranger to her...", Izuku began slowly, before hesitating for a moment. He watched as the blond man included his request in the supplemental contract before the heir began again: "A-As for the dowry..." "I'm still not interested in the dowry, Deku. Save it for your sister, or do something else with it.", the Shogun interrupted brusquely, surprising (Y/N) who listened in astonishment. Her dowry was extremely high. She had never thought anyone would let that much money slip away, but Bakugou brushed it aside as if they were talking about some pocket money. Izuku caught himself, clearing his throat before nodding in defeat:"Very well, then, as it is customary from the bride's family, we will at least cover the cost of the wedding ceremony. I'm sure we can get the temple master to organize a mass in short notice when we offer a larger donation.", he murmured as he also reached for his own quill to write down a few sentences in the process. It took some time for Bakugou and her brother to finally agree on all the last minute changes, but in the end they both signed the amended contracts, finalizing the youngest Midoriya's short-term change of fortune.

Finally, Bakugou clicked his tongue as he rolled up his copy of the contract. Rain pattered against the pitch-black window, which successfully warded off the cold of the looming night. Red eyes gazed scrutinizingly in the flickering candlelight over the masses of scrolls and books which rested on the shelves against the walls, while the shogun let his rolled-up document disappear into the inside of his traditional robe.

"We are getting married this Saturday and will leave early the next morning. Use the rest of your time to prepare yourself.", the Shogun spoke as he turned his attention to his fiance. After receiving a sad nod from (Y/N), he slowly rose from his seated position. Izuku did the same to escort his future brother-in-law out of their home, but before Bakugou started to move, the blond man silently bent down once more to place a small box on the tabletop in front of the young girl.

"I would have actually given it to you before I left, but now that you're coming along, you get your second engagement gift now!", the blond shogun grumbled dismissively as he turned his face away with the corners of his mouth pulled down. Astonished, (Y/N) glanced up at Bakugou, before she accepted the gift as she slowly reached for the small box.

When she opened it, she caught sight of an ornately designed fan. The intricate woodwork of the dark handle was set with gleaming auspicious-looking copper-colored gems, while the silken fabric shone in a velvety black. Gulping, the young girl carefully lifted the gift out of its box so that she could open the fan with equal care. On the dark background, forest green and blazing orange lines formed a carefully drawn stylized dragon, which was surrounded by its own brightly burning fire. In its sharp claws it clasped a white flower, protected from the flames that surrounded the majestic beast. The motif seemed almost bizarre to her. As if the monster would want to crush the fragile flower in its paws, while at the same time it almost seemed as if it wanted to guard it. Its sharp eyes flashed dangerously up at her and reminded her in a strange way of the man who had given her this gift. A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine, but she tried to pull herself together in front of her fiance. Never in her entire life had she seen anything so fierce looking on such a delicate object. Holding her breath for a short moment, (Y/N) gazed at the precious craftsmanship before looking up again to try to smile gratefully at the Shogun. "It is beautiful, your grace. Thank you!", she breathed truthfully. Bakugou nodded briefly in response before turning away from her. (Y/N) could hear the two men moving away from her as she looked back down at her engagement gift. Her fingers carefully traced the fine lines of the sublime dragon as she took a shaky breath, asking herself if her fiance associated her with the delicate flower just as she had associated him with the mythical creature which gloomily looked up to her.

"Knock, knock!", sounded the gentle voice of Lady Midoriya, who cautiously entered her daughters chambers some time after the shogun had left their estate. Startled, (Y/N) spun around from her position at her small table, but smiled sadly as she caught her mother heading towards her with a tea tray in her arms. Her young daughter had been sitting alone for what felt like an eternity, unable to fall asleep after that dreadful night. "I thought a soothing tea would be just the right thing right now.", she murmured in a put-upon cheerful tone as she carefully set down her favorite tea set.

"Thank you, mother!", murmured (Y/N) as she rose slightly from her kneeling position to reach for the warm pot in trained expert fashion, to pour her mother and herself a soothing cup of warm herbal tea. Silence enveloped them as they both let their gaze drift aimlessly around the room after (Y/N) had leaned back again. Sighing, the older lady ran her fingers through her green hair, untied from it's usually elegant knot, before finally turning to her daughter and smiling lovingly at her. Seeing her grown-up girl dejectedly trying to suppress the quivering of her lips, Lady Inko raised her hand to place it reassuringly on (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Don't worry, my little one! It'll be alright!", she whispered comfortingly as she patted her daughter's arm.

Hoping to take away some of her mother's worries, (Y/N) tried again to put on a small smile, but she failed miserably. Taking a deep shaky breath, the young girl tried to sort out her thoughts, before she dared to speak her mind: "What do you think about the Shogun?", she finally asked uncertainly, reaching for her cup of tea to occupy her fidgeting fingers. Rain pattered against the cool window, which was covered by velvet curtains to block out the darkness of the night. A few candles illuminated the comfortably furnished room in dim light, wrapping it in a soft blanket of warm shades. Humming silently to herself, Lady Inko lifted her gaze toward the ceiling as she pondered over her daughter's question.

"Well... The Shogun is an excellent match.", her mother replied after a moment. "Despite his reputation?", (Y/N) quietly probed further after taking a sip of the warm liquid. Lady Inko nodded after a moment's consideration before looking at her daughter again. "You know, your father and I are old acquaintances of Lord and Lady Bakugou. The young Shogun's father, worked side by side with your father in the Emperor's court. And Lady Bakugou is from the same province as me. I have known Mitsuki since childhood. We lost touch after she moved to the countryside with her husband, but I know that she is a good person just like her husband. They wouldn't be able to raise a cruel man. It's a pity that the two of them can't attend the ceremony, but by the time they would have arrived in the capital, you would have left long ago.", her mother began, smiling bittersweetly. Seeing that she had (Y/N)'s full attention, Lady Inko continued her descriptions with mild amusement:"Probably the shogun got his brusque trait from his mother. You should know that Mitsuki was incredibly fierce even back when we both were still unmarried. I remember that she never minced her words, no matter who was in front of her."

The youngest Midoriya's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at her mother in disbelief:"But it's not looked upon favorably when a woman simply speaks out what she thinks." Giggling, Lady Midoriya nodded in agreement. "You're right, but just because the noble society determines what's proper and what's not, doesn't mean there aren't people out there who think differently. Besides, not every man prefers a silent woman, you know? And hardly anyone shows his true face in public. I think there's more to the Shogun than the cold-blooded warrior everyone thinks he is, and I know you feel the same way."

Thoughtfully, (Y/N) let her mother's words sink in while she fixed her gaze on the liquid contents of her cup. On the moving surface, she could see a distorted vision of her own face, but instead of looking at it, she tried to imagine the man she and her mother were talking about.

In less than a week she would have to leave her entire life behind to follow Bakugou. The thought frightened her, no matter how much she tried to give herself courage throughout, but her mother was right. She truly believed that there was more to the Shogun than what met the eye. He was temperamental and aloof, and yet he had proven that he intended to protect her in spite of it all. He had told her in the gardens that he would not agree to marry a woman who let herself be trampled upon and had encouraged her to speak for herself.

But... Was it perhaps naive of her to interpret more into a person she only met twice?

#bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou x female reader #my hero academia

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jason-pipers · 4 years

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the jason/piper breakup and jason’s subsequent death

it is a long and angry post so you have been warned

I’m really sick of seeing Jason Grace/Piper McLean slander in their own tag, and I’m really, really sick of seeing people justify their breakup/his death as good writing.

As I’ve been studying literature and text for the past four years at Uni- I can say with absolute confidence that The Burning Maze utilizing Jason and Piper was horrible. Like a bag of shit mixed together then smeared on paper and published kind of horrible. Actually, you don’t even really need a degree to be able to point out the very basic absurdity of them appearing in TBM. So even though I have a paper due on a completely unrelated topic and a lot of homework, I naturally decided this was a much better thing to write about:

Maybe in another world, Rick’s ghostwriters will be better at writing his books. The reason why the Jason/Piper breakup was extremely confusing and done very poorly in the sense of their character arcs was that there was no buildup to the breakup. In fact, I think these two got together off-screen and broke up off-screen. Yet, I’m sure Riordan sat at his desk thinking “now why don’t people just like Jason and Piper?? I give them so much!” Actually, you gave them nothing. It’s also considerably easy to disguise their breakup as logical when it isn’t. Now, people will argue that the basic foundation of the relationship was poorly made because of Hera’s meddling and that’s why they broke up. This is a lazy way to think about it because it’s obvious you don’t care about the characters so you should just say that and go. Hera’s meddling (putting false memories of Jason in Piper’s head and wiping Jason’s brain) really only gave Piper a vague notion of Jason (based on real attributes the Mist pulls) and also gave PERCY and Jason multiple relationships after the switcheroo. But Piper actually meets Jason and then has a subsequent breakdown that maybe he’s not her boyfriend. However, once she gets to know the real Jason (very accurate to the one she knew in her memories because Aphrodite said she could sense real possibilities hinting at their romance), she is still developing romantic feelings for him. It’s implied that the reason why Piper is falling so fast is because the memories she has of Jason are based on the real Jason. It’s easy to establish that Piper has real romantic feelings for Jason, not the made up Jason because the majority of TLH is them getting to know each other. If she felt like there was some confusion on her part about developing feelings for him because of Hera switching Percy and Jason- why did it not come up EVER? The months where Jason and Piper started dating. How about that long ass quest on the Argo? It could have been a valid plot line but it never came up. If it had come up near the end of the series or maybe even if it was a small subplot in the series, it would make the breakup logical, at least narratively. But no, we end Blood of Olympus with Jason and Piper coming full circle with the moment in the stars. Flash forward three years later to TBM where everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) about Piper and Jason are thrown into the trash. They’re broken up due to the false memories and overall I guess it’s implied Piper doesn’t have feelings for him anymore or something? Or the trauma of being in something like that prophecy was a lot for her to handle and she needed some time to figure things out? Yeah of course! Just like when she will go through another trauma (Jason dying for her) and start dating someone new right after. This would be so much easier to read and digest if these things are shown- in their own series and maybe not as a side thing to Apollo’s series. Reading it in TOA was completely out of left field. I know SO MANY PEOPLE were like that makes so much sense! Good for you Piper! But I was like girl, who are you? I feel like I have not spent any time with you and none of what you’re saying is connecting to anything you were like before. Which leads me to believe people just did not like Piper in HOO but just say that and go. HOO Piper is not TBM/TOA Piper. RR doesn’t know how to characterize his own goddamn characters. Furthermore, everything in canon up until TBM implies and directly states that Jason and Piper are endgame. It’s not to say they didn’t have problems that were resolved or that the way they got together was conventional. There was not even a smidge bit of reluctance to admit they were canon endgame- I think RR even had Cupid involved. There was no prediction or even hint of what would happen in TBM in HOO, which is a very big narrative problem. Jason, always isolated by loved ones and quite frankly always shouldering way more than a human can handle dies exactly the way he suffers. There is no growth or even a small lovely moment where we can see Jason.

This brings me to the most unnecessary death I’ve ever read in my life. I know RR’s ego hurt from the complaints about Jason/Piper/Frank/Hazel/Leo (basically a non-Percabeth character) being underdeveloped. I know his ego was fucked when he “killed” Leo but didn’t really kill Leo so everyone was like what the fuck. I know he wanted to prove he is a good writer but like any other bad writer, he decided to jump the shark. And I know he wanted Jason and Piper to be more likable but the fandom really wanted a Leo-esque character. The breakup really happened because he wanted to demonstrate to critics that he could live with couples not being endgame and knew Jasiper was relatively unpopular compared to Percabeth/Caleo/etc. He wasn’t thinking in terms of ‘does this fit what I’ve created’ but in terms of ‘people might be like oh shit this is violent and they’re finally gone!’. I don’t know what idiotic thought process made him reach the point of killing one of them but he obviously got there. See, there is no difference between Jason or Piper dying in TBM. It could’ve easily been Piper who was impaled by Caligula and reminded Apollo “what it’s like to be human”. They were made *that* insignificant in TBM. Pretty much fucking interchangeable. IN DEATH. It also could’ve been anybody else in the world. It could’ve been that cheerleader from The Battle of the Labyrinth. It could’ve been Piper’s dad. It could have been Sally Jackson. Not a single part of Jason’s death was really related to Jason or his growth. Jason was the main/lead from HOO and if he was destined to die (which he wasn’t because RR doesn’t think anything through anymore), he should have died in his own series. That would make his sacrifice more compelling and important, but dying in TOA is just a big fuck you to his character. I think the only equivalent I can think of is if HOO had solely been Jason’s series but RR pulled up Percy to simply kill him and then just kept writing. What the fuck does TOA have anything to do with Jason or Piper? Or even Leo? I usually love when characters make cameo appearances to remind us of the past we loved them in. Kind of like when Lynda Carter appeared as Asteria in WW1984. Conversely, involving them in the plot and then using them as a plot device for the main character- AKA USING YOUR MAIN CHARACTER AS A PLOT DEVICE FOR ANOTHER MAIN CHARACTER IN A SEPARATE SERIES- is not only dumb but it truly makes everything else you’ve written for the first main character devoid of any real significance. Jason was never a fully fleshed-out character, the way he deserved to be written, because RR couldn’t world build as well as he thought and that ‘every single character gets a POV’ didn’t do the legendary thing he thought it did. However, anything that mattered about Jason was pretty much killed in TBM because he was easily killed by a villain that was not even remotely interested in Jason or aware of his existence. What does FUCK does Caligula mean to Jason? Nothing. Did the final battle create a full circle for Jason other than the line “remember?” which is not really related to his amnesia- no. His character arc was about an identity crisis- being pushed and pulled in two directions. Jason barely means anything to Apollo so RR using Jason as a convenient kill to send home a message is also shitty for Apollo. Lead hero characters can die- they sometimes just have to. Marissa Cooper’s death in the OC narratively makes sense due to the nature of the character being a damsel in distress from the very beginning- a foil to her counterpart, Ryan Atwood. But in this case, RR knew he had to shock people to keep getting $$$. I never got the impression RR cared about Jason or Piper, especially since he was incredibly disrespectful and lazy when writing about Piper. (For that- I can link really detailed posts explaining his racism). The truth is Riordan cannot live without putting his characters in relationships- Frazel, Caleo, Tyson/Ella (?), Hedge/Mellie- but he wanted to prove that he could which is why Jasiper broke up.

Piper’s girlfriend in TON- I didn’t read TON for the reasons above and I don’t think I’ll ever read a Riordan book again: I did find out that Piper gets a GF in TON which at first I thought was incredibly neat but then later became angry when I learned it was only months after Jason’s death? I have always wanted Piper to explore her sexuality but RR has this case of never giving important things the development it deserves. He’s incredibly messy and inconsistent when he creates lgbtqia+ characters, usually only including them so he can get credit for including them. He’s never actually explored Piper’s sexuality fully in the series, but he threw her in yet another relationship we didn’t get to read about right after she was almost beaten to death and then witnessed the murder of her ex-boyfriend. If you think that is representation, please rethink that. We don’t get to hear her talk about anything at all, except maybe mentioning the girl’s name. A subtle hint. Just representation is not good representation and it is right that we demand better representation. Don’t settle for less. For fuck’s sake, Riverdale is only really good at queerbaiting but they get so much praise. (Do they? At this point I can’t tell). If we wanted to explore Piper’s sexuality, it could have been done while she was with Jason or even broken up with him in her own series- why didn’t RR explore the nature of being lgbtqia+ in an Indigenous family? He had the chance to demonstrate an awareness of intersectionality through Piper but he fucked up. He had so much to write about. So, people who are yelling happily about that Piper appearance in TON-???

This was long and frustrating to write. But I had feelings.

#jason grace #Piper McLean #percy jackson #pjo #jasiper #jasper #jiper #toa #trials of apollo #Heroes of Olympus

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silent-scythe · 4 years

Text

Roses & Mirrors - Chapter I

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: mild cursing, self hate, alcohol abuse

• ──────✧✦✧────── •

“Il la voit partout

Il l'attend debout”

༺༻

“Have you finished packing?”

Nesta Archeron turned to glare at the male at her doorway, her spine rigid and her fists clenched. She wore a simple, thin nightgown, a grayish-beige one that went down to her knees.

“Pack?” she spat, as if the word was the most poisonous thing in the world, second only to his cursed name.

“The-” he started.

“The gray, drab clothes you dislike?” she finished for him. “The alcohol your High Lady forbade me from drinking?”

Cassian lowered his head ever so slightly, looking towards the left. A few strands of wind-kissed hair fell forwards, framing his face. His eyes fluttered with barely restrained exasperation, and Nesta inwardly berated herself for taking note of his long eyelashes.

“You know there’s more than that,” he said at last, looking up to meet her gaze. “And if you forget something, we won’t be able to come back to Velaris to get it.”

Nesta sneered derisively. As if she possessed anything of value, as if her slanted and damp apartment was actually worth anything. There was nothing here save for empty whiskey bottles, a crooked and unmade bed, an unused bathtub, and whatever other things were required to be in the most basic apartment possible. And in the air was the scent of a Fae male from last night that she was sure Cassian could smell, from the cross expression he had given when he arrived. Nesta was not sorry in the slightest.

She liked to think of herself as a shattered mirror, one whose surface casted a distorted and haunting reflection of her too-skinny bones, sunken cheeks, and bruised-looking eye bags. The pieces of this mirror lay scattered, each accompanied with a tale she was too lazy and too afraid to pick back up. What use would it be if she did indeed collect the shards? They would simply slip from her cold, trembling fingers, back onto the ground, perhaps splintering into more fragments, which was just more for her to pick up. Either way, the mirror was destroyed. Put it back together and you’d still see the cracks.

Death and darkness did her bidding, yet she found herself to be nothing but glass; broken yet sharp, the metaphor disgustingly ironic.

She took two steps forward, towards the Illyrian, and from his reaction- which was hidden, although she had a knack for assessing emotions that seemed ever present, even when she was only half sober- she surmised that he had not expected her to respond.

“I won’t forget anything,” she replied, “because I have nothing to forget.”

Her lips curled back into a cruel smile as she raised her right hand, holding a small purse made of snakeskin. She gave it one shake, and the coins’ clinking noise could be heard. “Unless you count your High Lady’s charity.”

༺༻

Nesta heard the chirp of a bird and she looked up, eyes leaving the pages of her book.

She watched as the bird flew higher and higher, until she could no longer see it, then turned her gaze to the ground.

The sunset reflected onto the fresh snow outside Cassian’s cabin, illuminating it with blindingly white light, stark against the backdrop of jagged mountains that stood proudly, reaching towards the sky.

Illyria is beautiful, Nesta thought. At least, Illyrian nature is.

Nesta was no fool. She might’ve thought winter was pretty, but she knew precisely how harsh it was for the less-privileged Illyrians, especially unfortunate children and females. On their flight here, Cassian had explained just the basics, but Nesta felt as if she were a hellcat, bristling and snapping when he mentioned the backwards treatment of the females.

They were supposed to land in Windhaven. The name rang a bell in her head, and she realized it was the camp led by Devlon, who she remembered as little more than a pathetic asshole.

“Windhaven, like most other Illyrian camps, have banned wing clipping, but discrimination against females is still unfortunately existent,” he had said carefully, his tone soft, as if she were a young doe in the woods. There was true sorrow and anger on his face. She knew Cassian was proud to be Illyrian, proud of Illyrian culture, although clearly he didn’t condone this part in the slightest.

Nesta remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Wing clipping was outlawed by Rhys centuries ago, although in some rural camps, it’s still done.”

Nesta didn’t bother to ask for an explanation as to what wing clipping was; she could infer enough from the term itself.

“The war has caused a lot of unrest. We’ve worked against the misogyny in the camps, but the discrimination is rooted deeply. It is not present in true Illyrian culture whatsoever, but the sexism has been here for so long that few accept any other ideology. Not only that, many families are angered at the way they are treated by the Night Court and the fact that so many died in the war.”

He seemed hesitant to go on, and Nesta narrowed her eyes, despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at his face. She waited expectantly for him to explain, although he seemed to refrain from giving any further explanation.

“There is a lot of civil unrest in Illyria right now. Be careful,” was all he ended up saying.

The rest of their flight was spent in silence, Cassian focused on flying and Nesta ignoring the warmth and comfort she felt in his embrace.

Now, as she watched the sun succumb to night’s darkness, sinking behind the mountains, she shivered. The house was insulated enough, but it was only the beginning of winter, and she was well aware that the winter nights of Illyria were not cozy in the slightest.

She hated to admit it, but she did miss Cassian’s warmth, even if she wanted nothing more than to strangle that bastard and run away from this place until she was as far from here as possible.

Nesta frowned at her conflicting emotions, closing her book shut with a snap. She had gone nearly twenty hours without alcohol, and she was not used to her feelings being so prominent, preferring the numb fuzziness of inebriation.

Cassian being a living heater was not an option. Fire was not an option, and asking for anything was definitely not an option either. That left her with only one choice, which would be to suffer in silence.

The cabin was different from her predictions. She had expected either a small and broken house, similar to her apartment, or something obnoxiously grand like the House of Wind. It was neither.

The cabin was made from some sort of sturdy wood, varying in shades of brown, some dark and some lighter. Nesta had begrudgingly come to the conclusion that she liked the cabin itself despite its owner and occupants. The house had many rooms, some of which Nesta had yet to explore. There was a dining room, kitchen, living room, and bathroom near the entrance. Near the back of the house was a hallway, with bedrooms, more bathrooms, a study, and some other rooms that she didn’t yet know the purpose of. The single-floored cabin was designed in such a way that all the bedrooms were in the middle of the house, surrounded by other rooms.

Immediately after arriving in the cabin, Cassian had unpacked and went to go buy some supplies, which was abnormally vague, but Nesta didn’t question him further lest she presented herself as actually caring about that bastard. Nesta stayed in the study for nearly an hour; in it was a desk with a few papers, which she assumed were Cassian’s, and besides that, it was shelves upon shelves of books. There were way more than she expected, for she swore the cabin looked tiny from the outside. Most of the books were ancient tomes of war strategy, which Nesta regarded with a snort, but she did find a section of fiction. And after some time, she managed to find two books she was somewhat interested in.

She had headed straight to her bedroom. It was simple and undecorated, connected to a bathroom, and had a bed and two nightstands both with lamps. The closet and drawers remained empty. She left the little snakeskin pouch on the left nightstand, close to the door, and her books on the right side of the bed. She really didn’t like the novels all that much, but she had nothing to do in this cursed place.

After absentmindedly recalling earlier events, she yawned and returned to the present for a few fleeting minutes, moving to put her book back onto the nightstand before withdrawing inside herself and staring at the wall until all the damned light in her room leached out of the window, the dying light turning the shadows into dancing ghosts.

Minutes- or maybe hours, for she did not care to keep track of time- later, she heard the creak of a door and a few thumps; most likely Cassian dropping things onto the kitchen counter or the floor.

“Nesta?” came his voice, drifting up the stairs. “Nesta, I’m home,” he called.

She did not deign to offer him a reply. In fact, nothing about her posture remotely indicated that she heard anything.

Footsteps sounded, and sooner than she liked, they drew closer until they stopped before her door. “Nesta, I know you’re in there,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, and I know you’re frustrated with the situation.”

Oh, frustrated, how interesting, she inwardly sneered. Frustrated, what a simple term to describe me. As if I chose to be in Illyria.

“I’m not going to make you talk to me all day, but- could you at least come out every day to eat dinner?”

Nesta continued to stare at the wall. “No.”

“Nesta-”

“I said no. Unless you would like to further intrude in my life and invalidate my decisions?”

She could hear Cassian’s sigh from behind the door. “Fine, we can compromise. Eat in the kitchen just for today so that we can talk.”

“Just for today,” Nesta responded, voice clipped. “Don’t expect any more.”

His footsteps disappeared into silence, and when Nesta was sure he was gone, she let her guard down and once more let her mind suck her into an empty black void of self-deprecating thoughts, both too full and too vacant at the same time.

Nesta missed the whiskey that burned as it fell down her throat. She did not turn on the lamps. Soon, the darkness of her bedroom became akin to the phantoms in her mind, and she let herself wander once more in the mist, fumbling for shards of a mirror, only to step on them and bleed.

༺༻

Nesta didn’t eat much. It surprised her that Cassian could cook, but she didn’t let her revelation show. He had given her a plate of some Illyrian dish that she didn’t recognize, and a bowl of broth. Nesta would’ve found both delicious, had she not been prior starving herself to the point where anything more than the bare minimum was too much. Thus, she had drunk only half the broth and taken a few bites of the dish before setting down her fork.

Cassian, to her relief, did not comment on how little she ate, although she did not miss his gaze edged with worry that flickered her way many times throughout.

Their dinner was in silence, one that wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable but also far from comfortable. It was filled with tension, like a rope pulled taut, waiting to be cut. There was no conversation or banter between them, and Nesta was content to keep it that way.

Cassian cleared his throat. Nesta immediately stiffened and she felt her walls go back up; walls of stone around her heart and tall bushes of prickly roses around her mind.

“May I ask a question?” he asked.

Nesta’s previous relief was short-lived at his words, and she felt annoyance wash over her. She knew Cassian well enough to know he would only say that if his question was about a heavier subject, sensitive, or in any other way displeased Nesta.

“Only if I can ask one in return,” she answered at last. A thought for a thought, a truth for a truth.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, a small grin flashing across his face, likely surprised and pleased that she was actually engaging in any sort of conversation, but he made no taunt.

“Okay. I’ll ask first,” he said, expression settling back into one of seriousness. Cassian swallowed, a short sigh escaping him. “Nesta. I want to ask you this for your own good. I know that this is private to you, but-”

“Get on with it,” Nesta snapped. “I have no need for your monologue.”

Cassian nodded. “Alright, then. Do you have any triggers? If so, what are they? I just want to make sure that I don’t accidentally trigger you, or make you uncomfortable…”

His voice trailed off in uncertainty, another thing the bastard rarely did.

Nesta hated the inquiry, half wanting to rip his head off for even having the audacity to ask such a personal question.

She didn’t want to answer it in the slightest. She did not want to offer that part of herself, a vulnerability, a weakness, a doorway through her stone walls. She knew Cassian had good intentions, but this was her gods-damned privacy. Cassian was nothing in her sad excuse of a life, and he was not entitled to know anything about her.

On the other hand, Nesta herself had a burning question for Cassian, something that she had pondered over for a while, and now was the perfect time she could ask it. If she gave him an answer, he had to give one back.

Nesta took a deep breath. “Fire, and water, especially baths,” she said, her tone a shade wobblier than she would have liked. “I cannot stand the crackling sound of fire, or anything where I am submerged, either partially or fully.”

She had left one out, but he didn’t know that. He didn’t need to.

Cassian took a few seconds to process this, dipping his head once. “Okay. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, and I can get extra blankets-”

“You don’t need to,” she cut him off sharply.

Cassian didn’t respond to that, knowing better than to push further. A heavy and unpleasant pause hovered between them for a moment before she continued.

“My turn. What is going on between you, Azriel, and Morrigan?”

Nesta was blunt and straightforward as always. She did not bother sounding pleasant.

Cassian visibly flinched, shadows crawling over his eyes. “Nesta, I’m not sure that’s something I should say.”

“Not sure?” Nesta countered. “Or do you just not want to? You promised a question for a question, or can you not hold yourself accountable for this promise either?”

Cassian’s jaw tightened and his hazel eyes hardened, clearly knowing exactly what Nesta had referenced. He crossed his arms, wings flaring for a second before settling, a telltale sign of his uneasiness.

“Fine. I’m going to make this as brief as possible,” he said. “Kier wanted Mor to marry Eris Vanserra so that he could forge an alliance between the two courts. Mor didn’t want to marry Eris and asked me to take her virginity so that Eris would no longer want her. Azriel loves Mor and Mor has not openly shown any feelings towards Azriel, nor has she rejected him. I’m not going to say any more than that. This whole thing involves them both and it is not my place to spill secrets they might not want me to share.”

Nesta’s livid eyes narrowed, and Cassian could’ve sworn a flame ignited in them, swirling as it arose from the ashes. “So what you’re saying is that the three of you, as centuries old Fae, have not been able to resolve an incident that happened five hundred years ago?”

Cassian let out a sigh. “No-”

“No? You and Morrigan are not in a romantic relationship, have no interest in each other, and yet you give her lingerie?”

Cassian stiffened at that, nostrils flaring. “What? Nesta, how and why does this tie into Solstice?”

Nesta didn’t bother answering, only pressing on, temper rising, the fire in her gaze burning brighter. “And you’re also okay with Morrigan using you?”

Cassian got up from his chair, clearly agitated. “Nesta,” he snapped. “Mor did not use me. Don’t insult her like that. I-”

“Did not?” Nesta shot back, scoffing. “Do you even hear yourself? Morrigan could have fucked anybody yet she chose you because of your background and upbringing. And now she uses you as a barrier between her and Azriel. Can you not see the toxicity? This is ridiculously unbelievable.” Her eyes blazed with a raging, devastating intensity.

“I told you this already, Nesta,” he said, his voice low and firm. Nesta reminded him of a snake, striking swift, and right where it hurt. “Don’t insult Mor like that, she is a close friend of mine, and-”

Nesta rolled her eyes at that.

“-and look, I don’t want to argue, not over this.”

“You’re the one who started this damn argument.”

“Nesta, now that you said something in opposition again, you’re also still arguing with me.”

Both glared at each other fiercely, like fire on fire. Neither relented until Cassian finally tore his eyes away, fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose.

Just as Cassian sank back onto his chair with a defeated huff, Nesta stood up, ever the epitome of elegance.

“I’m done.”

Cassian opened his mouth.

“Don’t talk to me.”

With that, Nesta turned around and left the table, steps measured, chin neither raised nor lowered. The silver flames in her eyes extinguished and replaced itself with ghosts.

• ──────✧✦✧────── •

First chapter of Roses & Mirrors is finally up! I’ll be trying to write a chapter and upload it every other weekend (so bi-weekly updates), however, depending on the time I have, it may take longer for me to update.

I don’t particularly like editing stories, so this is very minimally edited. If you find any mistakes, typos, or inconsistencies, don’t hesitate to point them out!

This first chapter was kind of boring, I had to set everything up so nothing that exciting has happened yet. Just so y’all know, there won’t really be much action (like battling and such) in this fanfiction, it’s more focused on Nesta and Cassian’s relationship. Because I only have 7 chapters planned, this will probably be a faster-paced book in regards to how their relationship progresses.

I think Nesta’s emotions in this chapter are sort of all over the place, which is what I intended, although it comes off as messy. To me, Nesta isn’t a character that is always stuck in deep depression, I believe that occasionally she will be happier than other times. I also believe that alcohol helps numb her emotions and since she is forced to be sober, it also contributes to why she’s all over the place.

As for why I have only seven chapters planned, it’s because I took seven lyrics out of the song Love Story by Indila. I think the song itself talks about a relationship different from Nessian, but I took the lyrics since I think it fits them. I then used the lyrics i took to plan out this fanfiction. The lyrics in this chapter are, “he sees her everywhere - standing, he is waiting for her.” (I am not French, please tell me if this translation is inaccurate!)

Wow this is a long author’s note. Thank you all for reading, comments are muchly appreciated! Taglist is below, if you’d like to be added or removed, feel free to @ me.

- Scythe

• ──────✧✦✧────── •

Taglist:

@dead-on-the-inside666 @nessian-archeron @greerlunna @sjm-things @sannelovesreading @silvernesta

#nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian acotar #nesta and cassian #cassian and nesta #nessian #nesta x cassian #fanfiction #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #sjm #sarah j maas

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

Text

Jake's POV Descendants of Despair Part 59

Though having a purpose helped to distract me from what could have been, I still could not shake the mixture of feelings. The fact that she loved me so much she would commit herself to me, it was something I never really imagined would happen. Especially not with someone that genuinely loved and trusted me. I didn't deserve her. I wanted to be strong enough to leave her, before I hurt her. I was making myself miserable with it. I forced myself to focus on what we were doing, temporarily forget what had happened, but it was tough.

Finally, I was drawn into the nuances of human behaviour. As I read, the lies, the deceit..it was no wonder she had never trusted anyone. They all had a hidden agenda. Usually it was for an entirely selfish reason. Where MC and I had both been selfish in ways, they had usually been either for survival or to protect each other. The selfishness I saw on these websites were all purely to protect the self from their own lies and betrayals. So many people cheating on the people they supposedly loved. When I considered my relationship with MC, there was no way in hell I could see myself ever wanting anyone else. I knew she felt the same. It was inconceivable to me that this many people thought it was okay to have sex with whomever they pleased.

“Jake...uh...I’m glad you’re not a real boy...if being a real boy means this shit.” She sighed as she indicated the screen. “I’m not sure we are going to be able to pull this off too well. I won’t be able to see her reaction to things so won’t be able to know whether she is lying or shielding things and you won’t be able to tell me what your thoughts are. I think our best bet is going to have to be to make the meeting as short and to the point as possible.”

I nodded, both perplexed and horrified at what I was reading on the screen. “I guess this is one reason I am glad I went into hacking...the other people that are hacking as well all know that we are hiding stuff and very likely lying to each other. It’s like an unwritten social code. But this…” I groaned, indicating the screen with disgust. “We may have to do this soon so I don’t have too much time to freak out.”

“How quickly can you get an earpiece sorted?” She asked. My mind quickly drifted to the pieces I already had. I was relatively sure I had everything I'd need. “That won’t take long, I think I can piece one together myself. Can you sort out a meeting. Uh...I’m not sure where to take her that doesn’t look like a murder house.” I replied hesitantly and was somewhat taken aback when she giggled in response. “It’s nothing, just you didn’t mind giving Dan the illusion of a murder house, taking him to the abandoned warehouse,” She grinned. “Dan needed a good dose of fear,” I snickered. It was unfortunate that the surroundings hadn't seemed to get through to him. I'd have to try harder next time. “Can you sort a place? I trust you to find somewhere that won’t terrify her or out me.” I suggested.

I began to work, examining the small pieces I had as well as the tech that I could connect remotely to it. As I worked, I glanced at her every now and then. “Wait...I’m thinking about this all wrong,” She stated, breaking the silence and causing me to pause in my work. “I was thinking of a building that would give the illusion of comfort for Lilly and security for us, but I realised that is just stupid. What about the lake in Duskwood. We take an offshoot away from the main area and wait there. There won’t be cameras and it’s highly unlikely anyone will be around.”

“Hm, as long as we stay away from the forest, although if we go near it we could possibly run into the man without the face and then we may get a chance to end it once and for all.” I grinned, then forced myself to stop. Knowing her, somehow the man without a face would track her down and I'd be stuck with Lilly somewhere else. There was no way I should have been joking about it. “You’re right, that’s probably the most comforting place for Lilly. If we leave quickly we won’t be too likely to strike anyone else. Can you set it up?”

She grabbed her phone and as she looked for Lilly's contact, I quickly pulled up the mirror of her phone and Lilly's on my screen.

Lilly

MC: Hey Lilly

Lilly is online

Lilly: OMG where have you been?

MC: Something happened so I had to leave where I was staying, but I’m good now.

Lilly: Really? Is there something that you aren’t telling me MC?

I wondered briefly how she would tackle this. Would she tell Lilly the truth? Would she talk about me? Would she mention her love? Logically I knew that it was much safer if she was vague, but still I couldn't help but hope.

MC: Yes actually, Jake has asked me to set up a meeting with you. He was a bit nervous reaching out himself in case you refused.

Lilly: OMG really, he wants to meet up? Oh I’m so nervous!

MC: Listen, it won’t be a long meeting, you know how his life is. Just don’t get too excited for something he may not be able to provide for you.

Lilly: OH yes I do understand but still...I’m going to meet my big brother!

MC: I will contact you soon with timing, but it will be at Duskwood lake. Can you find a private area somewhere around there and then give Jake the coordinates or let him track you?

Lilly: Yes I think I know a place. I’ll do that. I’ll be waiting by my phone!

As I watched Lilly's phone, I saw she had disconnected too. That gave me a bit more faith in my half sister. She hadn't told anyone of the impending meeting. I hoped that it would stay that way. I closed MC's screen and kept Lilly's open, just incase.

She had disconnected quickly, cutting Lilly off before she could ask anything more that might elicit too much information being shared. I turned to her with a smile. “Nicely done.” I partially expected an angry reprimand at breaching her privacy, but to my pleasure she just continued speaking. She really did want me to know her as much as I wanted her to know myself. “Sorry I lied a bit. I thought it was best that she didn’t know too much.” She murmured. I smiled. “It’s fine, you did well. I’ll have this up and running soon. Do you want to sort out some food? It’s been a while since we last ate and we should still have something in the car.” She nodded thankfully, which pleased me too. I was getting good at taking care of her...and myself in the process. Maybe I was the nurturing type.

I busied myself with the fine art of piecing together an ear piece out of bits and pieces I had pulled out from a small pouch I kept amongst my tech gear. It was a tedious process but it felt good to be doing something worthwhile. I was interrupted in my work when she carried a meal over to me. She had put a fair bit of effort into her presentation, was I was thankful for. It made the unappealing array of food somewhat more palatable. We ate in silence then I began working again while she watched. When I glanced at her, she was looking at me.

“Okay, I’m going to test this. So, I have managed to hook up a rudimentary microphone as well as the ear piece. It will transmit okay, but it may be staticky so you will need to be aware it may be hard to hear things. I should be able to hear you fine from this part here.” I said, indicating various parts of the creation. Her expression confused me. “Uh, I’m pretty sure it will work…” I mumbled, suddenly self conscious.

“You’re incredible,” She murmured, instantly wiping away my self conscious feeling and replacing it with joy. I became oddly proud of the small part I played in this. “Let’s give it a go then I’ll message Lilly. We will try and do this tomorrow!” I smiled nervously then gave her a quick kiss, attempting to refrain from pouncing on her then and there. Together we tested my equipment. I walked various distances away to test the range. It seemed pretty reliable, and it was probably the best we had anyway. “Contact Lilly. Set it up,” I mumbled into the microphone, nervous about the direction my future would take now that my half sister would be involved. Maybe she could talk some sense into me. Help me save MC from pain...

Part 60

#duskwood jake x #duskwood jake pov #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #fanfiction #fanfic #duskwood jake #jake x mc #jakexmc

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 5

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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Chapter 5

[Ron]

How do people live in Las Vegas? Accustomed to the mild English sun, Ron finds himself wondering why the bloody hell someone would choose to reside in this heat. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he glances back at his phone. He's over halfway to his destination and can surely stand five more minutes of walking in the sun. Wishing he brought water, or even thought to put on sunscreen, he groans and continues on his way.

He's far beyond the flashy streets of the Las Vegas Strip, having ventured into a more run-down and understated part of town. The buildings no longer stand out, but blend together like a colorless mural, and his destination, Erised Elopements, is easy to miss. He's looking for a building marked by the number twelve, and it takes him a few passes down the block before he spots it. It's a skinny building, shoved between numbers eleven and thirteen, almost as if it's trying to be invisible. It gives Ron an eerie feeling, like it's hiding dark secrets inside.

However, any uneasy feelings vanish when he opens the door and steps into a wall of cool crisp air, inhaling a cold and nourishing breath. Thank goodness for air conditioning.

"Hello, sir! Welcome to Erised Elopements!"

Ron locks eyes with the bubbly receptionist beaming at him. He sends her a friendly nod, then scans the room. There's a large refrigerator stocked with bottled water, an indoor forest of tropical plants that look like prisoners in the dry heat, and in the corner of the room sits an elegant gold mirror that he recognizes from the logo behind the front desk.

Then his eyes wander to a pink plush sofa in the mirror's reflection. Sitting stiffly in a light blue sundress with her arms crossed in front of her body is Hermione Granger. Shit.

His heart rate spikes, and a prickling heat begins to rise up his neck as he dodges behind a pillar, sucking in a quick breath. Here he is again, hiding from women behind walls. It's becoming a theme.

"Sir? Are you okay?" The receptionist suddenly looks concerned as she rises to her feet. "You don't look well."

Coughing, Ron tries to obscure his voice. "Yeah, I'm fine," he huffs at a lower octave than feels natural.

"Well, there's water in the fridge if you're overheated, and you can have a seat on the sofa; we will be with you in a second."

"Erm, thanks."

Ron wants to leave. He's tempted to turn out the door and run away, right back to the hotel, heat be damned, but his curiosity roots him to the spot.

Why is she here? Does she know?

He takes a deep breath and approaches the pink fluffy sofa with trepidation. Hermione must sense someone nearing because she snaps her head in his direction and meets his gaze.

Her jaw drops, and her cheeks flush crimson. "What are you doing here?" she hisses.

"Hi, Hermione," he splutters. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Ron, seriously, why are you here?" Her eyes flit around the room as if looking for a hidden camera, some kind of confirmation that this is all a prank.

Sighing, Ron shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out their marriage certificate. "I'm here because—"

She interrupts him. "Did you know?"

Ron gapes at her, utterly confused as to how she found out, then nods.

"And you didn't say anything?"

Sighing, Ron shrugs. He meets her icy stare and sends her a look of apology. "I was hoping I could fix it before you found out."

"You could fix it? Without telling me? Don't you think I have a right to know?" She rises to her feet, uncrossing her arms to place them on her hips. Her frizzy hair crackles with static electricity, giving her the appearance of someone deranged. Theoretically, it should scare him into submission, but instead, her confrontational stance ignites a flame from somewhere within him. It gives him an adrenaline rush, and he doesn't hate it.

"I thought you'd prefer not to know, based on how horrified you were this morning," he challenges back, his voice matching hers in strength and volume.

"So how was I supposed to find out we were," she says, her eyes darting vigilantly around the room, "married?"

Even in the frigid air, Ron's palms begin to sweat. He shrugs. "Honestly, I didn't think that far ahead."

She scoffs, folding her arms across her chest again. Like Ron's palms, her forehead glistens with sweat that doesn't belong in the abrasive air conditioning. "That's the attitude that got us into this mess; how did you figure it would get us out?"

Matching her stance, Ron hardens his gaze. "What would you have done?"

"I would have told you," she says with an air of finality.

Ron laughs. "If that's the case, why are you here alone? Why did you ask if I knew?" When she doesn't answer and her eyes narrow, he adds, "You weren't going to say anything either, were you?"

She exhales audibly and stiffens her jaw, tense and trapped without a response.

"That's bullshit, Hermione, acting like I'm the dishonest one here."

"You're infuriating," she says, shifting her gaze out the window.

"You're just as responsible for this! Don't put it all on me!"

"Oh, come on, I never do stuff like this."

Scoffing, Ron says, "Trust me, I know. Spontaneity isn't your thing."

"Impulsivity isn't my thing. I generally think before making big life decisions."

"And I don't? Believe it or not, Hermione, this is the first time I've accidentally gotten married. And I was just as horrified as you to find out."

When she whips her head back to face him, her face is expressionless, and Ron wonders what it's masking. Like the building's secretive facade, it looks forced. "Well, at least we agree that it was a mistake. Let's just straighten it out, then pretend it never happened."

Pretend it never happened. That's what they both want, right?

"Okay. Let's just make it disappear," he says, and they both take a seat on the sofa, separated by a wall of thick, icy air.

"Well, hello! Can I help you two?" Ron and Hermione look up to see a short, stout man with circular spectacles and the beginning of a handlebar mustache. He's dressed in black golf pants and a polo shirt that's at least one size too small, and something about him puts Ron on edge. "I'm Dave, the owner and CEO of Erised Elopements."

Hermione is the first to speak. "Yes, actually. We have a problem, sir."

"So do I!" says Dave cheerfully. Ron and Hermione stare blankly at him, confused. He diffuses it with a hearty laugh, color flooding his cheeks. "Just a joke, just a joke. Come on into my office!"

They share a nervous glance as they follow his lead. Dread pools in Ron's stomach. Oddly, he feels like he's approaching the witness stand in a courtroom and makes a note to be careful what he says.

"Go ahead, have a seat! Make yourselves comfortable," says Dave, motioning toward two armchairs in front of his desk. They're upholstered with green velvet, and Ron wonders when they were last cleaned. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi, sir—" starts Hermione.

"Dave."

"Sorry?"

"Just call me Dave. 'Sir's' too formal, and here at Erised Elopements, we're all friends." Dave beams, revealing white, unnaturally straight teeth.

"Okay...Dave. Here's the problem. We got married last night." Hermione motions vaguely between herself and Ron.

"Oh, congratulations!" Dave claps his hands together in excitement.

"No sir…I mean Dave—"

"I knew I recognized your faces from somewhere. Hold on one second." Dave silences them with a finger, reaches for a remote control, and points it toward a large black flatscreen monitor on the wall. It lights up, and Dave scrolls through a few photographs, eventually landing on one of Ron and Hermione. Ron's holding her up and pressing his lips to hers, her arms snaking around his neck. Above them are the words "Just Married." Ron is horrified and glances at Hermione, but for some reason, she doesn't seem surprised by the photo. "There! It's Ron and Hermione, right?"

"Yeah," says Ron tentatively, still staring wide-eyed at the photo.

"Well, congratulations again. You two make a lovely couple!"

"Thank you," he mumbles without meaning it. The words feel like they've been extracted from him, and it's unsettling.

Dave leans back and stacks his feet onto the table, paying no attention to the stacks of paper, empty picture frames, and take-away lunch container he's knocked aside in the process. Hermione looks on with wide eyes. "Honestly, sometimes couples waltz into Erised Elopements and have everyone thinking 'oh for fuck sake, these two should not be getting married', so it's incredibly refreshing to see such a happy couple. Really, congratulations again."

"About that. We didn't mean to get married," says Hermione hastily.

"Ahhh."

"Yeah. It was kind of a shock to us this morning, actually," she says, shrugging. She smiles at Ron in a sheepish manner that doesn't match her fiery demeanor.

"How lovely!"

"Sorry? Lovely?"

"Yes! It's perfect!" Dave reaches for a pen and notepad and begins scribbling as if taking notes on their conversation. Ron shifts uneasily. "I just love the idea that the best things in life are surprises. It speaks to how important it is to keep an open heart and let life happen to you."

Ron and Hermione exchange confused looks. "I think you misunderstand."

Ignoring them, Dave continues. "We've been working on a new ad campaign, and that sums up our message perfectly."

"Sir—"

"Sometimes, you don't even know your heart's truest desire until it's on your doorstep—"

"Dave," says Ron firmly.

The pen stops. "Yes?"

"We don't want to be married," says Ron, his tone stiff and forced.

"Sure you do!"

"No," adds Hermione. "This was a huge mistake. We need to undo it, if possible."

"Undo it?"

"Yes, cancel it. The whole thing," she says, gesturing between them again.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Excuse me?" Hermione's eyes are wide and disbelieving.

Dave removes his feet from the table and sits up straight. Although short, he appears commanding. "What you're asking for is an annulment, and unfortunately, you waived your right to an annulment yesterday when you signed your marriage license." He opens a drawer, shuffling for a piece of paper. "See, here's a copy of our contract; it's all there if you read the fine print."

Hermione snatches the document from his hand. "This can't be legal."

"It's perfectly legal in the state of Nevada," he says, shrugging.

"You don't let anyone get an annulment?"

Dave laughs. "Wouldn't be very good for branding, don't you think? We pride ourselves on marriages that last. For most people, when they see a high annulment rate, they don't exactly think 'Happily Ever After,' you know? In fact, we go beyond that. We promise 'Blissfully Ever After.'"

Ron and Hermione join heads to scan the document. "So, you're saying we're stuck married?" Ron asks finally.

"Well, I wouldn't think of it as stuck, per se. You're starting to sound like my wife."

"You're married too?"

"Sure. Technically," chuckles Dave. "But you're not 'stuck.' With that mindset, your marriage will never work."

"We don't want it to work. It was a mistake," says Hermione, slowly and clearly. Ron feels his stomach clench at her words, but he's unsure why.

"Give it a chance! Even the good things in life require effort!"

"Listen, we barely know each other—"

Dave cuts her off. "Perfect! You have no history, no past that'll keep coming back to screw everything up."

"I'm sorry," says Ron. "I'm not sure what you mean by that—"

Dave gestures toward Hermione, who looks affronted. "Listen to me. This is an opportunity. She hasn't broken your heart yet, so when you see that she has an 'office happy hour' on a Friday night, you're not tempted to show up at the bar just to check on her. Even if you do show up and see her alone with her 'coworker'," his fingers make air quotes as he speaks, "she doesn't know about your 'addiction' to porn, or how much money you lost at the slots. She doesn't know anything about you, and that's a beautiful thing, Ron, because she can't use any of it to justify her affair and make you look like the controlling one. She has nothing on you, at least not yet. Trust me; a blank slate is a beautiful slate. You have a chance to keep it that way, so I'd recommend not fucking it up."

Ron's mouth drops open, and he glances at Hermione, who is also wearing an expression of horror. This is not about them anymore.

"Turn around," demands Dave. "Go on, your chairs swivel."

Reluctantly, they swivel their chairs and turn to face another mirror, identical to the one in the lobby and the one on the logo. Engraved on the golden frame are the words 'heart's desire', over and over again, in fonts that don't seem to match. Ron assumes it's not meant to be stared at too closely.

"What do you see?"

"Us," states Hermione plainly.

"Well, yes, you, but more importantly, this mirror shows your heart's one true desire."

"It's just a mirror," says Ron.

"It's your heart's desire," responds Dave firmly.

Ron stares at their reflection; his face is red and peeling from the sun, new freckles invading his features. Hermione is scowling, hair erupting from her head like a volcano, arms and legs wound tightly into knots. They don't look happy.

"Now, if there's anything else I can help you with, by all means, shoot. But if not, then enjoy your Blissfully Ever After!" Dave motions for them to stand, and they oblige. He moves toward the door, opening it and gesturing them through.

"If it's not working in six months, you're more than welcome to file for divorce," he calls after them. "But give it a chance, don't disrespect love. Honor your heart's true desire."

Speechless, Ron and Hermione stumble out back into the lobby.

"Come again soon!" says the receptionist as they pass her desk.

They press open the door and emerge back outside, once again engulfed by the aggressive heat. Ron glances at Hermione. "That was a disaster."

"I'll say."

"Er, I guess we just should go back to the hotel. Try to enjoy the rest of the day?"

Hermione nods. "I guess. And file for divorce as soon as possible."

Ron sighs. "You read my mind," he says, although it's not entirely true.

"I guess we're just so in tune," she chuckles, and Ron, surprised by her sudden pleasantness, suppresses a smile.

"That's why you're my wifey," he risks, glancing nervously at her to gauge her reaction.

"Please, don't say that," she groans, and her cheeks flush adorably red, most likely a result of the Las Vegas heat.

#Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ronweasley #hermionegranger #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hp fanfic #hpromione #muggle AU #waking up in vegas #romione au

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awhiskeyriver · 4 years

Text

@eggplant8 said: I would love to see Madge’s POV of picking him up from his family and response to his blurted out confessions.

+++

“Your grandma seems nice.” My words cut through the silent air, the first thing either of us had spoken in the twenty minutes that had passed since I picked Gale up.

A grunt was the only indication he gave me that I’d been heard, and he kept his gaze focused outside the window. Leg bouncing uncontrollably. Jaw clenched with tension.

Oookay, so he didn’t want to talk, then.

I tapped the beat of the music on my steering wheel lightly, focusing on the dark stretch of road ahead of me leading back to Panem.

There’d been something exciting about the impromptu road trip when I’d first headed out to Waukesha. I liked being the person people depended on. The one that got calls in the middle of the night because a car broke down. I was curious what he was doing out there on a Thursday night, though. Last I’d heard from him he had a major test to study for. It wasn’t like I needed the play by play of his life, but it did seem strange no conversation of him going home had come up.

For all of the conversations we’d had, all the truth and dare games at Hoffman’s, I didn’t know all that much about his family. I knew about his three siblings, two brothers and a sister, but I didn’t even know their names. Not that I’d exactly been an open book with him either about my family. It was just that there wasn’t much to tell. We were boring in that sense.

There was nothing boring about Gale’s family dynamic though, and the more he kept tight lipped the more curious I became.

The first small glimpse I’d gotten of any of his siblings came from the little boy asleep on the couch. Even with a blanket curled up around his shoulders and face pressed into a pillow, the resemblance to Gale was uncanny. There was no denying their familial relation.

“I can’t believe how much your little brother looks like you,” I laughed. I almost wished he’d been awake, so that I could’ve seen his eyes and his smile. Heard his voice. I wondered if their personalities were anything alike. Gale continued with his silence, only nodding his head a little and I sighed.

“Do they live with her? Your grandma?” It seemed that way, just based on the small bit of the house I’d seen. There were backpacks and school books scattered in the dining room. An open pantry with all kinds of kid-friendly cereal inside. More than one pair of small shoes at the front entrance by the door.

For as little as I knew about Gale’s siblings, I knew even less about his parents. Thinking back, I wasn’t sure if the conversation had ever come up at all. If it was true, that the kids did live with Hazelle, it must’ve come with good reason.

One of the girls in my neighborhood growing up lived with her grandparents because her mother died shortly after giving birth to her from complications. I didn’t know what happened to her father, never asked, but I remembered going to the graveyard with her every year on her mother’s birthday to place down daisy’s at the tombstone.

For a dark moment, I wondered if something similar had happened to Gale’s parents, too.

“Yep,” he answered, shortly, only adding to my terrible theory.

“Oh. How long?”

He finally looked at me, or at least turned his head in my direction. His eyes went straight through me though, lost in a thought too deep for me to reach.

“A while.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, trying to do the math on how old the brother I’d seen on the couch might’ve been. He’d told me his sister was eight, if she was the youngest that meant his mother couldn’t have died all that long ago. I felt a lump forming in my throat at the thought.

“Did you grow up with her, also?” I asked quietly and then he was back in the present, eyes boring into me with irritation as his eyebrows pinched.

“Stop,” he told me harshly, turning back to the window. “Just not tonight, okay? I’m exhausted and not in the mood for your psychoanalytical bullshit.”

Psychoanalytical bullshit? Wow, okay.

“I was just asking a question,” I muttered, annoyance clear in my tone.

I wasn’t the only one.

“No, you weren’t.”

“Okay, why are you mad at me right now?” I shot back, unable to help it. It wasn’t like I’d dropped everything I was doing to pick him up in the middle of nowhere at two in the morning. Granted everything I was doing included hot chocolate, a face mask and a Friends re-watch, but he didn’t need to know that. I hadn’t minded the change of plans at all, but Jesus, I wasn’t going to be the scapegoat for his bad mood, either.

I understood his frustration. I’m sure I would’ve been stressed beyond belief if my car broke down unexpectedly in the middle of winter two hours away from campus. But everything had worked out…

“Because you think you know everything, but you don’t,” he replied back, voice rising.

“That’s not true…”

“I’m not some project for you to figure out!”

The air was tense between us with his words and I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting to keep silent until I felt that I was in control.

“I never said that you were,” I muttered.

“Right,” he scoffed, tone accusatory. “You can’t help yourself, you have to get into people’s business. Well, fine, what would you like to know Dr. Undersee? That the reason my siblings live with our grandmother is because our mother is a junkie who chose drugs over her own goddamn kids?”

His voice cracked with the confession and when I looked over he seemed on the verge of a panic attack. His breaths were shallow, as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs and his leg was bouncing uncontrollably.

“Gale,” I tried in what I hoped was a soothing tone rather than the anxiety I felt welling up inside of me.

“Oh, maybe you’re dying to ask how many of us share the same father. Spoiler alert: four kids, three dads, two of which were such scum they wanted nothing to do with their kids and the third so bad it would’ve been better if he’d just left too!”

“You don’t have to--”

“You want to get into how he used to beat me over something as stupid as a lost remote control?” No. No, no, no. “Or how I had to beg our neighbors for food to feed my siblings because no one remembered to go to the store? Go ahead and diagnose the hell out of me, tell me about all the reasons why I’m fucked up trash now that you’ve got all the pieces to your puzzle.”

I wasn’t sure if he was even aware of the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over, or not. He seemed lost. Floundering. Trying to find purchase to tether him to reality but coming up short.

We needed to stop driving. I searched the road signs passing by quickly for the nearest exit. Five miles.

From the corner of my eye I saw him lower his head between his knees, back rising and falling with each breath, hands clenched in hair that was coming loose from his bun.

“It’s okay,” I promised quietly. “Just breathe.”

I pulled over as soon as it was safe off the highway, near a farm and a cornfield because of course. It couldn’t have been a well-lit parking lot or something.

Gale jumped out of the car without a word, heading closer to the creepy cornfield with his head turned up towards the sky. I wanted to go after him, but reason told me to give him a moment. Let him cool off.

His confession still had me stunned. After months and months of vague answers and subject changes, he’d poured it all in such haste I was almost positive he would have regrets over it.

When minutes passed, but he remained outside, I tentatively got out to join him.

“You can go,” he told me as my feet crunched closer in the snow. “I’ll call Peeta or something.”

Yeah, sure. I was going to leave him in the middle of nowhere at two in the morning where the children of the corn could feast on his body before sunrise.

“I’m...not going to do that.”

He jerked out of my reach as my hand touched his forearm and took a few steps further down the field.

That’s fine. I didn’t like being touched in the middle of an attack, either. I remember my mom read one time that pressure helped to calm people down and she came and wrapped her arms around my body in a hug that felt closer to a straight jacket. I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak to tell her to stop, and when I finally managed to get air out, I screamed so loudly that she cried.

Focusing on Gale, not you.

Right.

“You’re right,” I whispered to him, and he turned his head half a fraction. Listening. “You’re not a project. I’m sorry if I treated you that way.”

“It’s not your job to put me back together.”

“I know that.”

He nodded silently and turned back towards the field as the wind whipped, picking snow up from the ground with its fury. It burned my exposed skin and I hopped a little in place to keep circulation flowing but didn’t get any closer to him.

“Truth or dare?” I asked. We could both use the distraction, and somewhere along the line the game had become our weird way of communicating when regular forms felt like too much.

“Truth,” he said back quietly and I couldn’t help but smile in relief.

“Tell me something you like about yourself.”

When he laughed, like the idea was a preposterous one, I felt my heart clench.

“Just one thing. Anything.”

He thought about it for a few painstaking minutes before folding his arms over his middle.

“I’m a good brother,” he croaked. “I think.”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “I think so, too.”

“Your turn.”

I took one step closer, then stopped.

“Truth.”

“How do you always find the best in people? Even when they don’t deserve it.”

The real question was easy to see between the words he spoke. How do you always find the best in me, even when I don’t deserve it?

Like he didn’t deserve it.

“There’s very few people in the world who don’t deserve any benefit of the doubt and you aren’t one of them,” I told him sternly, chancing another step. He didn’t move, or seem to be upset that I was closer to him, so when I chanced placing my hand in his and he didn’t flinch, I gave it a comforting squeeze.

When his hand tightened back around mine, something inside of me jolted.

“Wouldn’t you rather live in a world where we all saw the best things too?”

“Reality makes it difficult.”

“Hmm. That’s true,” I mused. “It’s not always easy.”

He looked down at me, exhausted and broken, and frowned.

“I’m sorry.”

I know.

“Come on, it’s freezing,” I said, motioning back to the warmth--and let’s be real, safety--of the car. “Let’s get back in the car.”

Gale was silent the rest of the way home, staring out the window with his arms folded protectively over his chest. And I let him be. When we pulled in front of his apartment, he seemed surprised that we were there, as if his mind had drifted somewhere else entirely, and he waited until he was almost out of the car to turn back and say thank you.

“It wasn’t a problem,” I promised. It was never a problem. “Gale, I--”

“You should go, Madge,” he interrupted. “Thank you but, you should go.”

The door shut without another word, leaving my unfinished words in limbo.

Gale, I’m always here.

+++

Darius was still awake when I got home. At the sound of the door opening, he wheeled out into the hallway in his chair to look me over expectantly.

“Well?” he asked when I said nothing. “Did all your dreams come true? Did he thank you for rescuing him with sexual favors?”

I burst into tears, adrenaline finally giving out now that I was back in the safety of the apartment. Darius was up in a flash, coming towards me to put a hand on either one of my shoulders.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, like Gale wasn’t the same guy who brought me soup when I was sick. It was a reflex reaction for him, though. To assume the worst.

I shook my head and he brought me in closer to his chest.

“No,” I hiccuped as he stroked my hair. “Someone hurt him.”

#eggplant8 #madge pov #the challenge #trigger warning: panic attack #the challenge spoilers #fanfic #gadge fanfic #unedited: all mistakes are mine #ill probably be editing this for like days lmao #thg

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raguna-blade · 3 years

Text

Ok and before I forget and i Likely will and I don’t have the attention span to actually try and take this anywhere right at this precise moment but there’s one musical thing that’s likely as not a just a musical ref cause haha I can do it it’s my soundtrack, my game you can’t stop me but-

There’s this song I ran across ages ago that toby fox did also compose. 74, Sung by Itoki Hana, and I Honestly have to wonder how much of it is also supposed to link in thematically. Like this wouldn’t be the first time Toby’s done this, what with Megalovania being from 1 and then 2 different stories and each pulling a generally similar vibe and intent behind them near as I can tell (there was an essay that explained this way better but I cannot for the life of me tell you where I actually read it save the greater seas of Tumblr so you know, that’s probably lost forever)

And I’m sitting here looking at the lyrics of this song, and Where I at least hear the music parts, it is in Welcome to the City, which is the bit where it’s just Kris, The Soul and Noelle, and given the whole song and all i have to wonder if there’s any intended link.

Cause man, looking at the picture used, and then the lyrics it certainly feels like it.

Now purposes of this here analysis I suggest you go listen to the song. 74, Itoki Hana, Toby Fox should get you where you need to be. If nothing else it’s a good song.

Now probably not, but it does at least put me in the mind to look at it like it does even if it’s only more a thing i vaguely heard that sorta sounds like this sparked an idea and honestly there’s worse places to grow your thoughts.

So, in 74, the song more or less comes from the pov of the Princess in a tower, watching a brave knight ascend to rescue her, through the various traps and trials that are within the tower...That she set and put there. And she is not (or she is in addition to being) actually a princess. She’s a dragon, pretending to be a princess to lure in knights to feel a degree of validation, to feel well...Important. Valuable. Special you know?

And I guess it’s not hard to see some potential parallels going on given that we find that Kris is opening the Fountains. Or is ALSO opening the Fountains. We’ve seen one for sure, and the implication SUGGESTS that they’re the one doing it in general, but we won’t know for sure til the game’s completely out. But for now, let’s assume they’re doing them all.

With that, We have Kris the Hero fighting through a land of trial and tribulation that he made himself to do...Something. Like in the song, the Knight in question looks gallant cool and really shows their stuff, even though in the end they bit it.

So that’s something, but then, we’re still asking why is Kris doing this? It’s shown that basically any Lightner can open a Dark Fountain whenever they want (Berdly got slapped out of it like 3 times in a row, and he seemed to be doing it pretty trivially as far as difficulty was concerned. Now that was in the Dark World, so perhaps it was easier there, but the Queen didn’t even really consider Berdly Strong enough to do it, though part of that likely as not had to do with her concern for Noelle.

But like...I dunno, I go back to the Knight in all this, and that’s a position of special import in the game. It’s very actively called attention to it, and the Knight is positioned as an apocalyptic force that’s...Creating Worlds, giving life and value back to the Darkners, who were cut off from the Lightners, which has seemingly left both sides lesser. The Darkners seeming to be doomed to fade into the dark, while the Lightners are unable to interact with this world that seems to have the ability to massively improve their wellbeing.

Like, Knights are typically heroes in stories with princes and heroes and kings and queens you know? When the story takes place in a kingdom, it’s the loyal knight who, while perhaps not the main hero, is a steadfast compatriot. Well that’s the general idea right?

But the Knight is positioned as a terrible force of ruin and destruction...Except in chapter 2 here, we get the notion that creating the Dark Worlds really can be an improvement life. Indeed, the game doesn’t even seem to suggest that creating more Dark Worlds is inherently a bad thing, but there’s the critical issue of the balance between the two being off and that’s a critical problem that at least as of now doesn’t seem to be able to be addressed.

Still, if this game is keeping on with Parallels to Undertale, The Knight isn’t all bad. Hell even the Spade King wasn’t all bad and he’s pretty objectively the most evil character in the normal route of the game.

And the game really does seem to posit that the interaction between the dark world and the light world is inherently good for both of them. The Town looks Way healthier and lively in Chapter 2 than it did in 1. Susie’s Rude Stat has been dropping since go, and Even Kris, while we don’t get to see their thoughts, seems to be becoming considerably more expressive. Now admittedly pretty much every expression we do get to see from them that isn’t prompted from The Soul seems to be negative and frustrated and angry and all that, but then, I think that’s probably a better place to be than shoving everything down and being completely unresponsive and not acknowledging anything that they’re feeling, which seems to be the case whenever you start to touch on anything remotely intimate.

I mean The Soul seems to be a part of them as well as apart from them, which is confusing at the moment, but they’re capable of scarfing down a whole entire pie, slash their moms tires, and open up portals to parallel realites without it so it doesn’t seem to be something that they particularly NEED to survive or do anything.

Going back to the song though, and i suppose the most basic barebones aspect I wanna look at, is that Someone who’s Apparently In Trouble is actually the Threat, or more generally, that the Appearances Are Opposite to the Actual Reality of the situation I’m wondering.

Because last thing before I cut this off, is that We have the Queen going all in on her plan and being unaware that going through with it would lead to the end of all things, I have to wonder if the Knight is Similarly Ignorant as to what they’re actually doing.

I’m also wondering if Perhaps Asriel is perhaps actually the antagonist. Because while the game’s claim of your choices having no meaning is inherently unquestionably suspect, the game also makes it extremely clear, doubly so as of the point of chapter 2, That there are people you’re simply going to have to fight, and perhaps you’re going to have to fight them with the full intent of killing them, and that that is an option that you genuinely may need to consider. Or at least, that you may well need to destroy that relationship and cut them out of your life. Not everyone should be recruited, so to speak.

Which is advice that shows up, if my memory isn’t failing me this quickly, in the manual that Ralsei provides...And advice that, if taken to extremes as shown in the Corruption route, can cause genuine problems.

Or I suppose I guess to put this in another context, the first words of advice you’re given, that are a full on lie, in Undertale is that this is a world of kill or be killed. Asriel tells us this is a world where you do not have to kill anyone, and while the game has yet to have you actually bring the axe down on anyone in the Normal Route, it’s also extremely explicitly stated that it’s not so simple as spare everyone or fight everyone. There’s shades of grey here and you shouldn’t just ignore them. There are people you can’t just spare, you have to fight it out (and interestingly, those people do not include the secret bosses, who seem to have a greater level of understanding of the world, if also are borderline incoherent in both cases.)

I dunno. There’s more to percolate on here i think, though obviously some of this isn’t gonna be answered until we get the rest of the game.

And as a last note, there’s 7 showing up again as a recurring number so that’s...Interesting.

#Deltarune #Music Stuff #Analysis #spoilers #Rambling

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c-optimistic · 4 years

Note

Happy prompt: the Danvers sisters discovering the joy of couch cuddles, and how they perfected the art over the years?

The first time was out of pity.

Kara had only been on Earth for a measly few months, and school was decidedly not going well. The humans made fun of the way she talked, the careful way she walked, how she jumped at noises no one else could hear, how she locked herself in the restroom during lunch to avoid the crowds. Eliza and Jeremiah assured her it would get better over time, had given Alex a look (as if blaming her for the actions of Kara’s classmates), and then offered Kara an extra hour of television that night (as if hoping a Star Trek re-run would get Kara’s mind off her dread at going back to school the next day).

Alex stared at Kara from the other end of the couch, looking terribly uncertain. Her fingers twitched, as if she wanted to reach out or maybe click off the television or (more likely) maybe point an accusing finger at Kara and blame her for Eliza and Jeremiah’s quiet disappointment. Kara turned her head, looking away from Spock and Captain Kirk and all the inaccuracies of human imagination, and focused her eyes on Alex.

“They shouldn’t have done that,” Alex blurted after a moment, turning to stare at her lap. Her fingers twitched some more.

“Who should not have done what?” Kara asked, adjusting her glasses and tilting her head slightly to the side. She wasn’t quite good at controlling her powers yet, so along with Alex’s unsteady heartbeat, its hard pounding, she could also hear the rush of blood, the scratching of joint and bone as Alex continued to fidget. A part of Kara—an unfortunately significant part of Kara—worried that Alex was about to blame her.

“The kids at school,” Alex clarified, meeting Kara’s eyes. For the first time, there was something other than impatience and annoyance in them. There was a lot of pity—too much for Kara’s liking—but something else. Something softer, something familiar.

(She thought it was reminiscent of the way Eliza or Jeremiah looked at her.

The way her own parents looked at her back on Krypton.

Warm. Familial.)

“I am...different,” Kara said, frowning. “Your species doesn’t like those who are different.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, shifting on the couch so that she was sitting right next to Kara. After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed Kara’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Humans are an unevolved species, I think. We have really bad tendencies.”

“And good ones, too,” Kara offered, trying to mollify Alex. She gestured towards the television. “You humans are creative. Funny. Kind, when you want to be. And you’re a young species, with a yellow sun. You have so much to learn.”

Alex squeezed Kara’s hand again. “You don’t have to worry about those kids anymore,” she said, her eyes taking on a dangerous glint. “I had a talk with them.” Kara blinked, realizing talk wasn’t the word Alex had in mind, only then noticing the scattering of bruises on her knuckles.

“You—” Kara stopped, frowning. “Why would you hurt yourself for me?”

“What are sisters for?” Alex asked, shrugging easily. Then, while Kara was still struggling to catch up, to come to terms with the easy way Alex had finally offered her acceptance, Alex shifted and put an arm around Kara’s shoulder.

“W-what’s this?” Kara asked, pressing awkwardly against Alex, knowing her elbow was digging into Alex’s side, their legs uncomfortably stiff.

“Well, it’s supposed to be a hug.” Alex sounded vaguely amused, and didn’t move even though Kara knew she couldn’t have liked their hug. “Let’s make it a thing, yeah? You and me, whenever something happens. Ice cream, shitty television, and unlimited couch cuddles. A...sister night.”

Kara leaned into Alex’s one armed hug, her so-called couch cuddle, and she grinned. “Sister night,” she repeated, watching Star Trek cut to commercial. “Ice cream, cuddles, and shitty television sounds good.”

From where she’d just passed by, Eliza shouted language! but Kara’s focus was on Alex, who was nodding somberly in agreement.

Alex. Her sister.

The hundredth or so time came when Alex was supposed to leave for college.

They were in their living room, where they sat and cried together after Jeremiah died, where Alex talked about her dates with a lackluster tone, where Kara discovered her love for potstickers.

Tonight, they were watching The Princess Bride for the thousandth time, Alex mouthing all of Inigo’s lines, making Kara laugh. They were sitting right next to each other on the couch, Kara with her legs curled under her, Alex with one leg propped up on the coffee table and the other pulled up to her chest. Their arms were linked, Alex’s head on Kara’s shoulder. An empty pint of ice cream sat on the floor in front of them.

“This is the best movie,” Kara said as Westley fought the Rodent of Unusual Size. “But I never understood why Buttercup just stands there for most of the fight. Surely she could do something.”

“Kara, she’s a princess. Obviously she’s not supposed to do anything. How else would she know Westley’s love is true?” Alex said sarcastically.

“I would do something,” Kara complained.

“You also have super powers. I don’t know if that’s fair.”

“National City is really far away,” Kara muttered, getting to the point of their sister night. Alex sighed and pulled away, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and pausing the movie.

“I know it is,” she said, sounding contrite. “And it’s not forever. You know that.”

“What about Sister Nights?” Kara asked, glaring at Alex now. She was leaving, abandoning her. And for something as silly as college? Kara could teach her everything she wanted to know herself. Earth was, after all, fairly primitive. If wondrous.

“They’re not going anywhere, Kara. We’ll have Sister Nights when you visit, when I come home, when you eventually go to NCU. This little thing can’t get in the way of the Danvers Sisters.”

“I could just fly over and see you.”

Alex fixed Kara with an unimpressed look. “No, you can’t.”

“I meant in an airplane, what were you thinking?”

Alex laughed, though her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Kara knew she could expect frequent phone calls to the landline in the near future, Alex making sure she was safe and at home and definitely not using her powers.

(A side effect of having a sister, Kara learned, was that she’d protect you from anything—even, and especially, from yourself.)

“You know,” Alex said a long time later, when Kara was leaning on her shoulder, comfortable enough and close enough to Alex that she was okay with the casual contact—with their shoulders pressed together, heads close. “One day, we might be too old to have Sister Nights.”

Kara scoffed. “Never. Even when we’re old and grey, Alex Danvers, we’re having ice cream, shitty television, and cuddles.”

At some point, Kara lost count of their Sister Nights.

(There were years and years of them. After first dates, after heartbreaks, after deaths, after weddings, after every tiny life thing and every big life thing.

Through it all, a constant. Her sister, Alex, and her sister’s first promise, faithfully kept: ice cream, shitty television, and cuddles.)

This time, they were both sore: Kara from having to chase an alien around all day, nearly blowing out her powers, and Alex from chasing Kara around. Alex handed over a beer and took a sip of her own before settling on the couch next to Kara.

There was an ease to their movements now, a practiced sort of muscle memory. Kara always sat to Alex’s right. They’d always start with Alex’s head on Kara’s shoulder, then would switch. They’d always hook arms, shoulders pressed tightly together. They’d always eventually put away the alcohol and the ice cream, pause the movie they were watching, and would just talk.

It was routine. A comfort. A thing that the others learned they could never intrude on—not even wives or kids were allowed in on Sister Night.

“Kelly wants to try private school. But I don’t. Public schools are good, great even. You and I turned out okay.”

“You’re a secret genius and I’m an alien whose people were highly advanced. I don’t know if we’re exactly the shining examples of a public school education.”

“Plenty of people went to public school and did just fine.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Kara said, handing over the ice cream and setting her beer aside. “Just that maybe you need to talk to your wife about what school you want to send your kid.” Kara shot Alex a look, raising her eyebrow like Lena taught her. “Your daughter is also only two. I don’t know why this is a thing right now.”

“Sure, take Kelly’s side,” Alex joked, rolling her eyes. “I can’t wait till you and Lena have kids and I can make fun of you panicking over everything. Lena,” Alex said, putting on an affected voice, clearly trying to imitate Kara, “what if they have powers like Clark’s kids? Lena, please let me teach them how to fly. Lena—”

“—joke’s on you, Lena has already said I can teach our kids to fly. As long as she’s the only who handles bedtime stories. Apparently, no Princess Bride.”

“Fair. We may watch that movie too much.”

“It’s a classic.”

Alex hummed in agreement, shifting slightly so that Kara could rest her head on her shoulder. “We should retire from the saving the world business,” Alex said, groaning as Kara got comfortable, accidentally jostling Alex and exacerbating her soreness.

“The world would fall apart without us,” Kara said.

“Very fair. The Danvers Sisters—”

“—we should come with a warning,” Kara finished, grinning widely. She felt Alex tug on her arm, pulling her into a comfortable side hug, and her eyes slowly shut. “Thank you, by the way. For being there with me every step of the way today. I know you’ve been pulling back from the field for Kelly and your daughter.”

Alex hummed again, this time just indicating she’d heard. She tightened the hug. ��What are sisters for?” she asked.

Kara grinned. Nearly two decades later, Alex. Her sister.

#supergirl #fanfic #danvers sisters #noracharlesandherdogasta

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jamiedc-they-them · 4 years

Text

Sibling Duty Part 2.5 (Platonic)

Requested Imagine - “I know you're vibing with your Sibling Duty series but I've imprinted on Bobbi acting like a mother hen/big sister and would adore some more of that with the reader? Not sure when to set it besides before they left the show though, only if you're up to it, of course! Love your work a lot!”

AN/ Hope it’s ok that I made it tie into the series :) I apologise if it wasn’t what you wanted. But I hope you like it!

To be honest, maybe running away with no plan wasn’t the best plan. In fact, the issue was that there was no plan at all. You just ran as far as you could. You had let your sister down; you had let anyone down. You had burnt yourself up trying to save her and everyone.

As bittered as you were by the sadly sobering fact that you couldn’t do that, you also realised that you weren’t fully burnt out.

You were still here. That candle wasn’t fully burnt out yet.

The truth about not being able to save everyone was a hard pill to swallow. But drinking alcohol? That was piss easy, just sip, and swallow the devil’s drink that seemed to soothe your darkened soul.

You knew that you could easily solve the issue of the candle not fully being out yet, all you needed was a blade from your ability then you were done.

Yet, something was keeping you here. Threw the drunken nights, you would remember it; those words from your sister….which one, you couldn’t remember fully. But that didn’t matter, you remembered the words.

“You’re not expendable, Y/N. No one is, ever. No one has a life you can just throw away.” You drank from your bottle again, trying to go into a peaceful slumber once again.

To forget the lies those words held.

You had no idea where you sister was, you just hoped far away from what you were doing.

You weren’t dead, you weren’t SHIELD; but you weren’t fully done yet with the whole stopping evil thing. Although, now it was stopping evil by evil. You weren’t legally allowed to chase the Watchdogs and kill them.

Did that stop you though? Of course, it didn’t.

If you were going to go down as a drunk, you might as well doing something not completely shitty.

However, as you laid down, a knock at the door got your attention. You sat up, cautiously, grabbing the pistol that lay by your pillow at night. You cocked it as you picked it up.

You put your hand to the door, taking a tense breath, before opening it and putting the pistol to the chin of the newcomer without a second thought.

The sight of who it was, however, made you stop.

Bobbi-fucking-Morse was the woman whose chin was currently being pressed against with your pistol.

Your eyes widened, freezing for a second as you looked at your old friend that had sacrificed but her life for SHIELD. She was gone, pronounced….something, you forgot. You had forgot, or rather tried to forget all the details in the binge.

No thoughts of those you cared for, maybe it’d make it easier for you to disappear too from theirs when you were gone.

You immediately pulled the pistol back, trying to pretty much dive back into your van and – well, you didn’t really have a plan after that. The main one being to just get away and start again.

“I’ve already punctured your tire, Y/nn. You can’t get far.” She said. You sighed, of course she’d thought of that.

Continuing that sigh, you faced her, putting a confused smile on your face, “What the hell are you doing here Bobbi? Why did you find me? Why did you find me? – Wait, is Daisy ok?” You started off easy with the questions but became panicked near the end.

Bobbi smiled, shaking her head, “Got a tip that you might be I came here to see you; And I have no idea, sorry, kiddo.” She said, listing the answers to your questions.

You nodded, “Wait….who gave you the tip?” To that, Bobbi held out a coin.

“Flip it, I’ll tell you if you’re right or wrong.” She simply said.

You took the coin, doing just that. It landed on the heads, “Coulson?” You asked. Bobbi nodded her head.

Your gaze then turned more suspicious, “How the hell did Coulson get a hold of you and know what I was doing?”

She cocked her head to the side, “You really think that Phil Coulson, of all people will just give up on you or Daisy? Or anyone on that team? He sent me because if he went, it’d look suspicious. So, he sent someone whose off the grid.”

“But….you’re happy with Hunter, aren’t you?” You questioned, worried that you would be the cause of the death of a metaphorical thing this time.

“We are,” She assured, seemingly noticing your bubbling anxiety over it, “We agreed I should be the one to come see you, though. Both agreed I’d be better at handling this.”

“You mean the broken sister? Trust me, Bobbi, you don’t need to sugar-coat it.” Normally, that would be in a joking manner, but this time it was played completely straight.

Bobbi got into the passenger seat when you moved to the drivers side, “I’m not here to do that, I’m here to help you.” She sat in the seat, looking over at you as you only stared out the window.

You scoffed, “With what?”

“With this whole Watchdog thing. Your not as careful as you might think you are, Y/N. Noise is still noise.” She told you.

“You really aren’t going to leave, are you?” You asked.

“Y/N, Coulson may have asked me to come here, but I did of my own volition.” She softened her voice as she said that part.

You met her eyes, seeing nothing but warmth, love, and honest in them. She held you look with those emotions, only awaiting your reaction.

You bit your lip, bit it hard as you knew that she wouldn’t leave you. You knew she had too much of an instinct when it came to you younger folk.

“Here,” She said, handing you a button “It’s a beacon, just press it and I’ll come to you. Just in case we get split up.”

“Fine.” You said, turning on the engine and taking the beacon.

You did your best to ignore the grin she held as you did so.

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As said before, Bobbi seemed to have an instinct when it came to you guys (you, Simmons, Daisy and Fitz) she just had a way to know when something was wrong and whatnot. Granted, you had that as well, but Bobbi had more experience with it.

When you first met her, a part of you may have felt a bit threatened at the idea of her taking over the elder sisterly role. Despite Daisy’s assurances, it was Bobbi that had calmed your nerves.

“I’m not replacing you, Y/N. You were first, I’m just here as a kind of backup, to lighten the load a little. Make sure you take care of yourself, too.”

That load now seemed to be your own shit, not someone else’s. That, in Bobbi’s book, was a vague step in the direction known as, “good”.

Even if it meant driving to a local hangout of Watchdog members. You knew that they were going to be having a big meeting later, you just had to find out where.

So, Bobbi just looked out the window as you drove, it was a nice place you had chosen to bunker down it; remote but completely isolated from life. However, the Watchdogs had chosen it too for those same reasons.

Now, she didn’t really know this area, but you obviously did. That was shown by the way you got you both to where you apparently needed to go in pretty much no time at all.

“Here, this is where some of the sons of bitches are.” You told her as you cut the ignition and leant back in your seat as you looked at the place, a simple warehouse. Granted, it was simple on the outside, but on in the inside was people you were anything but good.

“Alright, let’s take this slow,” You rolled your eyes, “I mean it, Y/N. We go in through the back, get some sort of surprise one them.”

You debated it, knowing who you’d normally do it, a quick run and gun. But, thinking about it, you knew she had something in that plan.

“What if they’re gone by the time we get in?” You questioned.

“Well, better to miss and track them, then go in the front and they be the only ones to come out.” She fired back at you.

“Fair.”

You both went around the back, the van parked at the front to cut them off. You entered, crouching, and using the crates that were in there as cover as they had their meeting. God it was disgusting, about how Inhumans needed to be taken out.

You looked at Bobbi, the woman hidden a little ways away from you. She met your eyes; and, despite being the one who brought you around the back, from here she seemed to be open to whatever way you wanted to handle it.

You knew that they had been after Daisy for a while now, that she had been disrupting them, just like you. It wasn’t exactly a connection or similarity you had wanted with your sister. In an attempt to fix what you had broken by protecting her, it seemed she had only gone out of her way to make it worse for herself.

You sighed, knowing that you had failed even more in your role as the elder sister.

You looked over, seeing the dogs as they spoke, “So, we meet up with the others later, talk about Quake? Or the other one?” One of them asked.

Before they could even get an answer, a gunshot went off, his blood hitting his mask, but part of it spraying through the holes in it. You continued to fire your weapon, Bobbi moved from behind the crate, shooting one in the leg as you went for the kill shots.

They were all gone, all except for one. One who crawled on the floor was he went for his gun.

“That was reckless.” You forgot that about your friend, she was blunt when it came to you all and you scared her, or she was worried.

“I was not.” You defended.

“You went in without a plan.”

“You looked to me for one, look how that went.”

“We have one –” You both stopped when you – out of the corner of your eyes – saw him bring out a pistol and you both fired at him in sync, “—Had one to find out this meeting place from. We find that, we find them, and we stop them. They’re after Inhuman’s –”

“They’re after Daisy.” You said, firmly, bringing it back to your main reason of being after them. You knew what you did before wasn’t right, and it had caused a strain, but doing this could maybe help a little. It wasn’t what you were doing before, so you were aware of the damage you had caused. Besides, this time too you were well away from her, helping her with everything that was happening from afar by doing a little, not as much as you did last time.

Besides, they were after other people too, your sister just happened to be atop of the list. You didn’t know where you were on it, you didn’t care to be honest. You just cared those others that were on it didn’t die.

“They’re after Daisy, and others. We’ll find the fucking meeting place, this place isn’t exactly big, Bobbi.” You snapped, rooting around in a guy’s pocket for something, only to come up blank.

When you turned to announce it to Bobbi, you saw her holding up a broken phone with a cracked, but still readable screen. On it, was a text message.

“It’s coordinates, to a place not far from here. That’s probably the meeting place.” She told you.

You breathed a sigh of secret relief at the fact you had found it. That you had this moment of victory.

That soon changed to worry, at least in Bobbi’s parts as she held out a phone to show you what else was on it.

A name that you had hoped she would’ve missed.

Your own.

“Y/N….why the hell didn’t you tell me?” She asked, voice holding a slight bit of both worry and betrayal to it.

She then continued to scroll, finding something that made her eyes widen, “They’re planning a big attack on an Inhuman safe house.”

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Bobbi had been angry; she had been loving and caring. It all seemed to meld into one when it came to the four of you. However, this time, you were focus of that.

“When were you going to tell me?” Was what she had moved onto now as you both drove back to where you had started, there was shop nearby for you to get supplies from. It wasn’t exactly a ‘shop’ but more of a black-market kind of place.

Either way, it was the only place to get what you needed to take the bastards down.

“I wasn’t.” You were blunt, deciding to not beat around the bush and try and lie, seemed you both were just as bad as each other when it came to trying to lie to your loved ones.

“Why not?” She was being confrontational now. To be honest, so was your response.

“I never asked for you to come here, Bobbi. I never asked for you to help me. If you hadn’t, I’d have already gotten the information out of the guy by now and be on my way there.” It was harsh, and you saw the hurt that she was hiding behind her eyes.

“I’m not going to leave you, not like this –”

“God, you’re just like them.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” She asked.

“No, it’s worse. I don’t need this whole older sister talk, Bobbi. Worse comes to worse, I don’t make it out of there and stop them,” She hated that you shrugged, “I’ll just be a name on a list. They’ll get over it. Besides, if anyone needs this talk, it’ll be Daisy.”

You had parked up and left for the shop, this time Bobbi hadn’t stopped you. You both seemed to know that you needed a small break, as much as you were a younger sibling to her, she knew when to hold back a little.

It as an alleyway, one that changed every time, but still an alleyway none the less. You walked down the newest pick, finding your guy at the end of it with a van that he then opened. He had made a name for himself as a reliable weapons vender, he had quickly become one of your favourites.

“There she is.” He said, smiling at your approaching figure, “What’ll it be today.”

“Heavier shit than usual.” He nodded, but looked a tad impressed.

“Finally giving what’s what to them, huh?” He asked as hr brought out an assault rifle.

You chuckled as you took it, putting it in your bag, “Exactly, they’re planning something, so I’ve got to at least try and stop it.”

“Good luck to you sweetheart. But…be careful? Can’t have me losing my most loyal customer.” He laughed, but you could tell the words were sincere.

Either way, it didn’t sit right with you. You felt off at it, but knew he was mostly harmless (Despite the massive amount of weapons behind him).

You took the bag, swinging it over your shoulder and making your way back to the van. Just as you reached it, it erupted in a fireball. The blast knocked you back but didn’t drop the bag. In fact, it only made your fall more uncomfortable.

“Bobbi!” You cried out, remembering that she was in there. A black van appeared, parking with a skid as Watchdog members pilled out, firing at you as soon as their feet touched the floor. You pulled out one weapon, firing all the rounds to cover your escape. When you ran out, you grabbed a another, doing the same thing.

“Bobbi!” You called to the van you used to call home, but (obviously) didn’t get a response. Your power started to take hold and you felt it. More than that, you let it. You knew that this was most likely it, why not go own swinging?

Your power fully took control, darkness becoming you as you let it rip. Cars were flung and people thrown up only then to come back down.

Your power was darkness, you had plenty of that within you.

As it died, however, you felt a pain in your body. You looked down, seeing a blood stain on you that only grew more and more.

Your power made you almost unstoppable in terms of offense, not defence. Daisy’s power could do both, yours could only do one.

As you fell, you heard someone calling out your name. Hands then pressed against your wound. As you opened your eyes, you saw it to Bobbi.

“Hey, Y/N, stay with me. Stay with me. Come on. Comme on, kiddo, breath.” She begged you. You did your best to give her what she wanted, but you were fading.

You made your peace with the fact that this was it, that you would die here at your lowest point.

You let the dark take you, only this time in a different meaning of the term.

What surprised you, however, was that you woke up. You woke up and felt something where your wound once was. It was a bandage, one that had been put tightly onto said wound.

You tried to move, but footsteps immediately started to come towards you. A bottle of water was placed down in front of you, “Don’t rip your stiches. I worked hard on them.” Bobbi admonished, slapping your prying hands away from you body that was previously losing blood.

“You brought me here.” You immediately felt stupid for saying it like that.

“Of course, I did. I told you, people still need you. Plus, you’re my friend, I’m not just gonna leave you to bleed out.”

You sighed, putting your head against the wall, “Thank you.” You were quieter, but she still heard the words. It wasn’t like there was much else to hear, besides cars passing.

“You’re welcome.” She meant the words; she took a sip of her own water.

She then held up the button you hit, “Turns out it was useful after all huh?” She said in a, ‘I told you so’ kind of way. You smiled a little at her words.

“Turns out it did.” You agreed.

“They’ll be doing that attack, soon.” You said, slowly trying to stand. Bobbi made her way over to help with that, getting you to a table where she had laid a map, “We need to get to them before that happens.”

“Which way in, though? It’s a barn, so there’s a few.” She said, pointing to those entrances you could take.

“Not the front door, that’s for one.” She looked at you with a smile, glad that you were putting that off the table.

“There.” You said, pointing to one.

“Ready to go save some Inhumans and kick some ass?” You asked your older sister.

“You know it.” She answered, bright smile not leaving her face for a moment longer.

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Together, you entered the barn through the back, this time both on the same page with the plan. As you both crouched through it, you listened to them once again talk about it. This time, though, the big guy was there, the leader of this op was there.

You looked to Bobbi, seeing she had noticed the same thing. She thought about it, before shaking her head, knowing that it wouldn’t work in your favour. Still, she didn’t seem against trying to bring him down.

You both then fired at the same time, bringing the Watch Dogs down. They fell, others trying to escape. For once, their bravado and confidence had died, instead replaced with fear.

Seemed the Inhuman hater’s had flaws. They weren’t as big as the thought. Some tried to fight back, but you used cover instead of tried to get the shot off first. The shots hit the crate. Bobbi, seeing the Watchdog member shooting at you, she turned her pistol to him and took him down.

You shared a nod together, before something caught your eyes, “He’s getting away!” Bobbi called out, pointing to the leader escaping.

You knew you might be able to catch him, but you then saw the other Watchdog truck’s pull up. You looked to the leader and back to the truck. Old you would’ve gone for the man no mater what. However, you knew that you would be cut down if you tried.

“Hold them back!” You yelled to your sister. She looked and nodded, the two of you shooting at the new batch of Watchdog members.

However, another car pulled up. This one had the logo of the place you were tyring to run from big and centre on it. The SHIELD logo.

It was a group of SHIELD agents, all getting out to help you not be so outnumbered.

You fired, hitting one Watchdog member, before the SHIELD agent fired at the last one.

Finally, it was other. The plans of the Watchdogs was thwarted, at least for a moment. It was a start.

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The agents were getting ready to take you back, to take you home. As you got ready, Bobbi approached you, “So, end of the line.” She told you, the two of you sharing a timid smile.

“Yeah….That button wasn’t just for you, was it?” You asked her.

She tried to keep a straight face, before she smiled, “Told you some people need you.”

You smiled, sneaky bitch.

“Thank you.” Oh, you must’ve said that out loud.

“Yeah, that too.” She laughed, “I’m gonna miss you, Y/N. This was kind of fun.”

“In a fucked-up way.” She nodded, “Thank you….for taking some of that load off of me.”

“Of course, we’re family. It’s what we do.”

You smiled, hugging your older sister. She returned it, chuckling before pulling away, “Time to go home.” She told you.

“Yeah.” You agreed, going to the open door in the SUV. As you got ready to enter, you looked back at Bobbi. She gave you a smile and a nod, on your returned.

You had a long way to go, but this was a start.

#agents of shield imagine #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #bobbi morse imagine #Bobbi morse x reader

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willadisastercry · 4 years

Text

Retrieval mission gone horribly wrong: nearly everyone is whumped...

tw: discussion of blood, breathing difficulties, impalement, loss of conciousness, discussion of the aftermath of an explosion

The mission should’ve been simple. All they had to do was blend in, which meant no armor, only concealed bayards. Everybody knew the deal, Pidge has the tablet that tracts the artifact, the rest follow and protect Pidge who retrieves said artifact. They were supposed to get in and out quickly, to not leave time to dawdle, or room for error. And most importantly, not get caught. But the entire team was off that day, leaving little that went according to plan and multiple members of the group badly injured and in need of tending. It didn’t matter if it was a lack of focus or proper intel... but who was left to save them?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Hunk had refused to enter the crudely lit corridor and watched in horror as his teammates were enveloped into darkness aside from the shrinking green and red and grey glows of their bayards.

The vibes were just off, he’d argued in protest since the power hadn’t wavered once when they combed the previous floor. We don’t have our suits and cannot afford to blindly walk into an ambush with only our bayards. Not to mention, there is not a single guard around—absolutely nothing to protect this artifact located down a dark and mysterious hallway, does not mean go and check it out anyway?!

But Pidge’s radar confirmed the signal was emitting from just a couples yards ahead and the other boys couldn’t argue with that.

“You don’t have to come with us, bud.”

“Yea, don’t sweat it...”

“...we gotta get moving.”

They were already running short on time for the estimated window of opportunity to retrieve the artifact they were tracking before the security system rebooted. They just couldn’t pass up the chance, but Hunk also just wasn’t going to be caught dead following them down there.

“I guess I’ll cover you on this end...”

There was nothing on his end though. Not a single thing.

He relished in the steady influx of their voices discussing what they saw over the coms. Nothing for a while, Lance stepping on Pidge’s heel, Keith bonking his bayard on the wall accidentally and it scaring them, Pidge saying they were closing in on the artifact. But immediately after they started closing in the clear stream became crackled and unintelligible.

Hunk wanted to throw up, he knew something had gone really really wrong when their coms went down completely but Shiro and Allura could still be heard urging everyone to move faster, that they wouldn’t be able to hold the attention of their defense fleet much longer.

They had drawn the patrol fleets’ fire and were serving as a distraction for nearly thirty dobashes now, their lions had taken a substantial amount of damage and wouldn’t hold up much longer.

“Guys?! Pidge, come in! Lance? Keith? ANYONE?!”

“Yelling! In my ear! Why are we yelling?”

“Shit—yeah, hi Shiro. So... Keith, Lance and Pidge followed the signal down this sketchy hallway, but I didn’t go because it looks like the type of hallway you get murdered in—I shouldn’t say that, but it looks like that. It’s pitch black, zero visibility, I can’t see them at all. Man it felt so wrong down there! I knew something was up, I felt bad about not going with them but I couldn’t, I couldn’t go, something wasn’t right!”

“Hunk! Focus! I need you to calm down and tell me you’re exact location, better yet send it to me.”

“Gosh—okay, yeah, I can focus. I can—“

But Shiro never got to calm Hunk down enough to have him even describe where he was because his end of the coms went out and was replaced with a similar static.

“Crap, Allura I’ve got to go in and help them,” Shiro stated as he sprayed the battle ships with a hail of fire before stealing the castle away.

“I’m coming, guys,” Shiro assured even though they likely couldn’t hear him.

Allura stayed back to draw base’s defensive fighters away and then get them off her tail while Coran cloaked the castle. Once they were out of range, Shiro used their last drop ship to bypass the planets defenses while they were still distracted and landed on the base near Pidge’s green lion.

Shiro had no idea what he’d be walking into when he tracked the artifact on the server Pidge created to identify quintessence.

He sure didn’t think he’d first find a passed out Hunk at the beginning of said sketchy hallway with a heavy plume of smoke billowing from it. His forehead bleeding pretty significantly and he didn’t stir when Shiro shook him.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he lugged the larger boy up by his arms and draped him over his back, using their combined momentum to keep them both upright as he trudged into the thick smoke and dense darkness of the sketchy hallway.

It was so dark he couldn’t see five feet in front of him, but it wouldn’t have mattered with the smoke anyway, the only reason he remembered it was there was how it filled and sat heavy in his lungs.

He called out hoarsely. But nothing for the longest time until he followed the blinking light from the server and turned the corner.

The first thing he heard was heavy breathing. He called out, but no one responded. His glowing hand casting a vague purple sheen that illuminated his path slightly and allowed him just enough visibility to not to eat shit over the debris that littered the floor.

There had been an explosion.

Hunk had been right. There was no one guarding the suspicious hallway with the precious artifact because the guard was the spooky hallway itself.

Shiro slowed and began scanning the entire width of the hallway as he moved, looking for the first sign of life or anything that looked like it would set off a bomb, but wasn’t too worried about that since his team had obviously made it that far without...

He forced any thought about what he might stumble upon when he found them out of his head. All he needed to focus on was finding them in the first place, which got a little tricky when the hallway forked. The server wasn’t precise enough to pinpoint the difference of fifteen feet accurately. So he stopped altogether now and called out again.

He heard nothing for second, but then he heard wheezing, the strangled rattle of someone’s chest working and darted down the right most corridor.

Before he turned down the next corridor he was stopped dead in his tracks when his purple hand illuminated a shaggy haired form crumpled around the corner of the wall. Keith.

He knelt down and grabbed the shuddering boy’s shoulders. His raspy breathing was what he’d been hearing. He refrained from rolling him onto his back to check for further damage because it was peppered with shards of metal, so instead he assured him that he was safe now and that he’d come back for him once he checked on everyone else. Keith only grunted.

Shiro let Hunk down next to Keith and activated his hand once more to begin scouring the hallway.

He called out again, and this time someone responded. Shiro took off on a weary trot as he followed the weak response, he told them to keep talking as he scanned the floor, very aware of each skinny twist of metal that looked remotely like an arm or a leg until he actually saw a leg attached to one. Lance.

Lance was on his side, his shoulder tucked unnaturally under him, with the tip of a jagged wrench of metal sticking into the fleshy part of his thigh.

“I’m okay,” he huffed as Shiro eyed him worriedly, “I just can’t get up. My shoulder is done for but the bleeding on my leg has sort of stopped or slowed at least, it’s not even that deep it’s just very securely in there.”

“Okay, do you think you can stand?”

Lance laughed dubiously, but extended his uninjured arm out to Shiro anyway.

“That was not at all convincing, but I guess we’ll find out... hook your arm around my neck, yeah just like that, now I’m going to brace your bad arm against your side so nothing moves weird and you’re going to put weight on your good leg... on three, one—three!”

As soon as Shiro hoisted Lance up he nearly topppled back over with the wave of excruciating pain that washed over him, he yelped and writhed as he breathed through it, his legs wobbling while he gripped Shiro’s shirt to keep himself upright.

From what Shiro could tell as he carefully manuevered his arms around Lance’s waist and good arm to keep him from falling, his shoulder appeared to be very much dislocated. But it was now safely clutched against his side, so any jostling of it would be awful, but no further damage would be made.

Lance took a shakey breath and stepped back, giving himself a second to sus out if he could make do with his bad leg. A fresh gush of dark red welled around the shard protruding from his thigh and dribbled slowly down his leg. He grimaced, but it carried his weight.

Shiro’s heart sank. An explosion like this wouldn’t have hurt his team as badly if they were wearing their armor, not just the under suit. It was his order, to be discreet. This was his fault.

“Hey, I’ll live. Pidge was father down, she was closer to this explosion,” Lance mused as he leaned heavily on the wall while he made his way forward.

“There were like several. Keith got the brunt of the first one, is he okay?”

“Uh, ish. I had Hunk with me, he’s out so I left him with Keith.”

“Shit...”

“I know, usually takes a lot more to take out the big—“

“No, look.”

Lance pointed to Pidge with the light of his bayard. She was slumped against the wall and looked like she was mostly okay asides from being unconscious, that is if you didn’t mention the glistening pool of blood below her.

Shiro rushed forward and his stomach turned. Only when he got close did he realize that the entire right side of her body was torn up by metal debris.

A lot were minor knicks, but there was one particularly jagged gash in her side that was likely the source of all the blood.

“Pidge? Hey, you with us?!”

The smaller teammate hummed when Shiro shook them.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? This probably won’t feel good, I’m sorry.”

Shiro lifted up Pidge’s limp form effortlessly, ignoring her pained cries as he held her against his chest so that her head rested on his shoulder, one arm clutching the back of her thighs and the other free to help Lance limp back to the rest of the team.

Hunk was responding by the time they got back. A large hand pressed firmly on Keith’s arm as his chest worked, his breath ragged and his lungs wheezing while he breathed through the thick smoke. Shiro made a mental note that he probably had some other injuries to his chest that were making him so susceptible to the effects of smoke inhalation.

“Okay, Hunk how you doing? Can you walk?”

“I ‘on know,” he slurred, “pro’ly.”

“I can help him. You get the mullet, he’s not looking too hot.”

Lance hefted a dazed Hunk to his feet with his uninjured arm. He swayed, but Lance steadied him.

Shiro knelt beside Keith, balancing Pidge on one side while he probbed his stomach.

“Anything hurt over here?”

“No, agh! Not really, mostly my chest... and my back,” he groaned through labored breaths.

“Good, hold on to me,” he postured before pressing the boys hips against his own and bringing him up with him.

Keith’s breath hitched as he adjusted to the new orientation, but he got his feet under him and clutched Shiro’s shoulder before doubling over. He was almost retching like he was going to be sick, but he just couldn’t breathe.

Hunk who was hanging on Lance held out his arm for him to grasp and he did, grateful for the extra support while he struggled to fill his lungs.

“Easy, Keith. Just relax. I know it hurts, but we have to get back to the Castle. We’ll fix you up soon you just gotta work with us for now,” Shiro soothed, dragging him along sluggishly.

“Shi— o— iro— Shiro? Shiro can you hear me?”

As they moved farther and farther away from the artifact, the coms grew clearer until they could hear Allura’s voice distinct and worried.

“We’re here Princess, we’re all here,” Lance answered.

They heard Allura let out a sigh she tried to repress, she didn’t even know she was holding her breath.

“Are the paladins alright?”

“Uh...”

“Ish.”

“Should I patch Coran in and tell him to prepare a pod?”

Pidge let out a particularly pointed whine as Shiro shifted her so she wouldn’t slip lower, his moving also tweaked something for Keith who moaned a very deep and crackly ‘ouch’.

Shiro eyed the darkened expanse of Lance’s thigh, Hunk’s wavering balance.

“Have him prepare a few... just to be safe.”

“Oh dear, alright.”

They had to move quickly but carefully. Shiro had never tread so lightly during an escape except for now when he was toting two very injured and in pain paladins. He moved even quicker when he realized that Keith had gone from only clutching at his shoulder to leaning entirely into his side, his feet at times merely dragging along. Shiro’s grip on his hip pressing it against his own was uncomfortable for them both but there was no other area untouched on his upper body for him to lug him by.

Lance and Hunk made their own way together, swaying and stumbling the entire time. Lance’s leg had pretty much stopped bleeding, the metal protruding from it effectively staunching it for now, but the damage around it grew more and more apparent. His muscles felt both excruciatingly taut and achingly loose as they squelched around the piercing metal.

It would altogether buckle beneath him every now and again, leaving Hunk mostly holding up Lance but relying on him to reorient himself when his head ached so bad that his vision blurred. Hunk was always careful of his shoulder when he’d stop and hang on him, Lance’s bad arm remaining clutched tightly against his side and out of the way anyway.

“We’re almost to Green, come on buddy,” he said as he urged the larger boy forward, practically hoping now.

No one really knew how they made it out without getting stopped, but the robotic foot soliders seemed to only take into account that the perpetrators who set off the explosions would be running, not hobbling.

Green’s whines were present in everyone’s head with Pidge’s conciousness wavering, the jaws of the smaller lion opening up as soon as they neared.

My paladin! Green lion save paladin! Green lion fly paladin to castle!

“We’ve got her, Green. You just get us back and we’ll do the rest,” Shiro assured, settling down on the ground of the cockpit with Pidge between his legs, her back against his chest so he could put pressure on the gash in her side.

He had guided Keith to his knees where he then practically pitched forward onto his stomach.

Looking at the wounds on his back with some of the metal bits still sticking out in better lighting made Shiro want to hurl.

Then again holding Pidge’s insides in place also made him want to hurl but that was why she was positioned the way she was, so he didn’t have to see it.

Her breathing was fast but it was better than Keith’s. Every now and then she’d make a pained sound and he would just whisper in her ear that she was safe and she would calm down soon after.

And then he’d take her pulse. It had gotten slightly weaker but he could still feel it.

Lance had lowered himself to the ground slowly but his good leg was tired and cramping from the effort of getting out of there and so the descent down was anything less than smooth, his legs giving and his back hitting against the wall. It jarred his shoulder so badly he was wailing.

Hunk held his hands against his ears when Lance screamed out, he hated the fact that his friend was in pain but the shrillness of his cries sent stabbing pains into his skull where a pulsing welt had been growing. There had been an explosion at every key checkpoint on the way to the artifact, including the entrance he was supposed to be covering.

When the wave of nausea and blinding pain subsided, Hunk placed his hand on top of Lance’s who didn’t have the energy to tighten around it while he clenched his teeth together, hissing as every movement Green made only hurt him further.

Keith could sympathize.

The only option was for him was to lay on his stomach, shifting his weight to the side of his ribs that hurt less was all he could do. He could feel every one of Green’s movements reverberating in his chest, riling up every bit of hurt that was now present and dialing it to well past ten.

He just wheezed through most of it, the smoke from the explosion still thick and heavy in his throat, but when his lungs ached so bad he couldn’t help but cough it made his bruised and broken ribs hit the ground and his vision whited out several times.

It wasn’t until one fit racked his body so badly he coughed up a bit of blood that hands were on him pulling him to his knees and putting his head between his legs so he could calm down enough to breathe.

“Hey, Green? Please hurry...”

#voltron fic #vld #voltron whump #whump scenario #keith whump #vld lance #pidge whump #hunk vld #takashi shirogane #space dad #whump for everyone #whump fic #explosion #injuries

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ashdoesfandomarchieved · 4 years

Note

Hey!! Could you write something shippy about Boimler and Mariner? What if Boimler regularly spent time in the holodeck acting out certain scenarios and situations with Mariner? 👀

A/N: This was way angstier than I meant it to be. And way less sexier. I apologize in advance.

ao3

She glares at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. “What happened to having each other’s backs? I put my ass on the line for you. Repeatedly.”

He winces. This conversation is not going how he’d planned. “Mariner, I-”

Mariner clenches her fists and straightens. “No, you don’t get to say anything after what you pulled. Fuck you.”

The image freezes and Boimler resets the simulation.

What seems like years ago, he remembers lecturing Tendi overusing the Holodecks for fun. The details are fuzzy. It was before the “GUYS I MADE US INTO A MOVIE'' incident with Mariner, but after that weirdass thing with Rutherford and his rogue program. He thinks she and Mariner had been using it to watch Ransom in an array of—what he now admits-hysterical situations—but can’t be sure.

She and Mariner have gotten up to so much shit, he can’t keep track.

He doesn’t know why he’s remembering it now. It was a random conversation that happened a long time ago—a few months after Tendi was assigned to the Cerritos? –so there’s no reason why he should be thinking about it right now.

Liar, a smug voice intones in his head. It sounds vaguely like Mariner. Boimler aggressively shoves it down.

This isn’t for fun, he anxiously tells the voice in his head. The voice is quiet. It does nothing to soothe the turning of his stomach.

It’s been three months since Boimler requested a transfer back to the Cerritos. Three months since he’d run into Rutherford and Tendi on shore leave and the three of them got swept up into a ridiculous, interplanetary civil war that took three different starship crews to settle out. Three months since he’d almost died more times than he can count on all his fingers and toes, three months since he thought Tendi had died, miles away from her home, on a world which would never remember her name, three months since Mariner swept in and fixed everything.

It’s been three months.

Not that he’s counting.

Somewhere between being in a remote alien prison with Tendi and hiking for a month in a perpetually dark wilderness with Rutherford, Boimler had come to the belated conclusion that his career didn’t take precedence over his friends.

(Also, if he’s being completely honest, he missed the chaos of being a lower deck ensign. Not that he still doesn’t want to be in the upper ranks. Just not without his dumb, dumb friends.)

After it was all over—and he’d realized that Tendi was alive—he put in his transfer request, surprising all his peers.

“This just isn’t a good fit for me,” was his official statement.

Captain Riker gave him a bland look. “You worked with Beckett, didn’t you.” His voice was flat, but his eyes were amused.

“Is it that obvious?”

“She rubs off on people. Don’t let her give you a hard time,” he added, signing off on the request. “It was nice working with you, Boimler. If you ever need anything, let me know.”

And so here he is, a newly minted ensign again, on the lower decks of the Cerritos.

(Captain Freeman is thrilled. “All operations have been down by 18% since you left. Good to have you back, Boimler.”)

Tendi and Rutherford seem hyped to have him back-Tendi especially, who’s been a little clingy with everyone since her near-death experience-but are acting uncharacteristically nervous around him. This isn’t a surprise. The tension between him and Mariner when she’d shown up on Roxadt II was insane and was only getting worse with every day. It’s been six weeks since he’d transferred, and she’s found a reason to be in a different room for all six of them.

Hence the simulations.

That makes absolutely no fucking sense, the Mariner-esque voice in his head sneers. Just talk to her you fucking wimp.

Boimler ignores it.

“Scenario A-187,” the clinical voice of the simulation intones. The simulation restarts.

It goes exactly the same way 186 other scenarios had gone. He corners Mariner. She stays quiet. He apologizes. She explodes.

Mariner’s anger had always burnt red hot. He’d first experienced it when an ensign got a little frisky with Tendi after she’d repeatedly told him no. Mariner’s fury at the situation felt justified. Vindicated. The ensign had been demoted so hard, Boimler was certain they’d seen the last of him for like. Well, forever. At the time he’d been astonished that she’d managed to pull it off, but after finding out about her familial connection to the Captain, it made sense.

He’d seen a glimpse of that anger a few more times—when Captain Freeman had forced her to go to therapy, after Rutherford had been captured by rogue Klingons, that one-time Ransom tried to promote her. But never toward Boimler.

Oh, she’d get irritated with him. “Loosen up, Boimler, it’s not that bad.”

“Look, the worst that’ll happen is that we get a note to file-stop yelling!”

“Dude if you don’t chill the fuck out I might actually throw you out of an airlock.”

Standard Mariner reactions, right? Yeah, she’d been pretty pissed when he took the promotion (his voicemail had been blowing up for the first 48 hours after he transferred), but it had died down fairly quickly so he had logically assumed that she had gotten over it.

He assumed wrong. If her icing him out was to be taken into account. So here he was, six weeks in, desperate and stressed from his friend’s apparent dismissal. The obvious solution, his sleep deprived brain decided, was to simulate a conversation with her using his high-tech program on the holodeck.

This may have not been the best idea. But he’s calculated the probability of anything going wrong and it’s under 3%, so he’s almost guaranteed success.

(So, of course, it blows up in his face, in true Boimler fashion.)

“Okay, I have a pretty high threshold for weird, but this might take the cake,” a voice slowly says.

Boimler startles. Whirls around. Shuts down the simulation. “Ohhh shit-”

“Yeah shit,” Mariner says, stalking into the room. “What the hell, dude?”

“This isn’t what it looks like!” Boimler sputters out, panicked. The simulation is shut down, leaving them in the empty holodeck room, but the echoes of Holo-Mariner’s rage still resonate between them. Actual Mariner is staring at him, face somewhere between completely shocked and furious.

“Did you use your dumbass hyper realistic program to simulate a situation with me so that you could cheat later?”

“I mean, kinda?”

“Then it’s exactly what it looks like!” Mariner slaps a palm over her eyes.

“Well what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know—maybe talk to me like a person? Not use your creepy, hyper realistic simulations to roleplay it?” She drops her hand and glares up at him.

Boimler rolls his eyes. “You literally created a simulation to kill the entire crew because your mom made you go to therapy.”

“Yeah and it fucking worked.”

“Then why are you yelling at me?!”

“I’m not!” she shrieks. “I’m very calmly telling you to fucking talk to me next time!”

“There’s not going to be a next time!”

Mariner stops, mouth open. “What?”

“Look, I get it. I fucked up and you apparently don’t do second chances! I was trying to make things right but clearly it isn’t working. I’ll stay out of your way now.”

Instead of pacifying her, this seems to make Mariner even more furious. “You fucking asshole. what am I supposed to say to that?” she shouts, stomping up to him.

He groans in exasperation. “Apparently nothing, considering you don’t want to talk to me!”

Her hands grab his collar, pulling him down to eye level with her. “I literally just said to talk to me next time!”

“And how was I supposed to do that if you’re avoiding me?”

“You’re the one who fucked off in the Titan to god-knows-where,” Mariner grits out.

So they’re actually doing this. Boimler swallows hard. Takes a breath. Tries to quell the anxiety welling in his gut. “I’m sorry.”

“Right after you said you didn’t care about rank or shit,” she adds, twisting the knife.

“Yeah. It was really shitty of me.”

“And then you ghosted me for like six months.”

Boimler winced. “Yeah—I. Yeah.”

Mariner’s iron grip on his shirt loosens, but she doesn’t let go completely. “That was really shitty of you.”

Not sure what to say, beyond apologizing again, Boimler gives a jerky nod.

“You came back.” She stares at him, eyes unfathomable. “The Titan wasn’t everything you dreamed it would be.”

It’s not a question.

Boimler still has an answer, though. “It was.”

She stiffens. He pushes forward, intent on getting this out while he still has her attention. “It was everything I wanted in a career. I was doing what I wanted, everyone took me seriously. Our missions came straight from the Admiralty and they treated us like we weren’t a joke. I loved it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I care more about my friends then I do about people taking me seriously.”

Mariner freezes and then lets out a strangled laugh. “Now I think you’re the simulation. Who are you and what have you done with Boimler?” She pokes at his cheek.

He grins. And then falters. “For what it’s worth—and I know it’s not worth much—but. I am sorry. I wasn’t a very good friend.”

“Yeah you weren’t.” She lets go of her grip on his shirt completely and draws back. “You said you were my best friend and then you left. For Riker.”

“That makes me sound like the love interest in a cheesy drama. And like I’m hooking up with Riker.”

“I said what I said.”

Boimler laughs. It feels real for the first time in a long while. “Are we good?”

“No.” Mariner smiles. “I’m going to give you so much shit and you’re gonna grovel for like months and then I’m going to tell my mom that you used to holodeck to simulate certain situations with me.”

“If you do that I’m transferring back,” Boimler tells her. “Your mom finally likes me; I don’t need her ejecting me out of an airlock.”

“She wouldn’t do that.” Mariner waves him off.

“She totally would.”

“Yeah, she totally would,” she agrees. Grabs his arm and begins dragging him out of the holodeck. “So maybe I won’t tell her. I am telling Tendi though and she’s gonna give you so much shit considering you reemed her out over misusing the holodeck.”

Boimler makes a face. “I’ll probably let her too. I’m such a hypocrite.”

“You are, but it’s super weird to hear you be honest about it. Stop being all apologetic, it’s weird.”

They’ve reached the corridor. Mariner steers them in the direction of the bar. “Only if you promise to deck me if I ever make a dumb decision like that again,” he says, giving in and allowing himself to be manhandled. It’s the least he owes her.

“Deal. And the next time you use your weird, hyper realistic simulator—which doesn’t even fucking work by the way, I’m not that much of a bitch—you gotta promise you’ll use it for sexy reason only.”

“Sexy reasons only,” Boimler deadpans. “You know they log everything we do down there.”

Mariner wiggles her eyebrows up and down. “I know.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re uptight, but you’re the one who was playing with simulations of me.”

“That sounds way worse than it actually is,” he cringes.

“No, it doesn’t. I would take some sexy action over your sad, sad trauma simulations any day. Next time I catch you, you’d better be having fun with it.”

“Mariner, what the fuck—”

They dissolve into good natured bickering. She says something lewd and he rolls his eyes and elbows her and she squawks in protest and threatens to get him thrown in the brig. It’s normal, but it’s also not. There’s something new in the air between them that wasn’t there before. Tension, but not negative. It’s charged with. Something else.

Boimler doesn’t examine it too closely. Better to let it work itself out naturally. After all, he has all the time in the world now.

#star trek lower decks #marinler #beckett mariner #brad boimler #fanfiction #my fanfiction #lower decks #star trek lower decks fanfic #prompts #lofi writes

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thekingslover · 4 years

Text

(popstar!cas/fanboy!dean part 6/7; read parts 1/2/3/4/5 or on ao3)

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Cas says, much much later, when they are next to each other in bed. The lights are off, the sun’s setting over the trees through the window, and the warm glow of dusk sparkles in Cas’s eyes.

Dean’s blissed out and exhausted. They’d talked about this, and he planned. But nothing in his wildest imagination prepared him for the real thing. The real incredible joy of having this perfect man in his bed.

Still, he fights off sleep, heart squeezing, remembering the last time Cas was here. He’d promised he wouldn’t just leave again, no matter how cute Dean looks asleep, but a curl of dread lingers in his bones. Remembering. Always, remembering.

“I love you,” Cas whispers.

Dean has his head on Cas’s chest. He’s counting the strong steady heartbeats beneath his ear. Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, soothing.

Stay awake, he commands himself, as his eyes drift closed.

When he opens them again, the sun is bright and the bed beside him is empty.

“Cas?” Dean says. Then louder, “Cas?”

He crawls out of bed and throws on a pair of boxers. He’s in the hall, around the corner. Is there a taxi? Maybe Dean can catch him this time. He has the front door half open when -

Behind him.

Soft talking.

Dean closes the door. He swivels on his bare heels and storms toward the kitchen.

Sam’s leaning against the counter, holding a bowl of cereal, spoon lifted halfway to his mouth.

Across from him, near the fridge, stands Cas in one of Dean’s t-shirts and a pair of soft pajama pants. The coffee mug in his hands reads World’s Best Brother.

“Oh. Hello, Dean.” Cas gives him a soft, secret smile that makes Dean warm all over.

He didn’t leave. He’s here. He’s in the kitchen. Talking to Sam.

And everything’s okay.

Sam stares at the ceiling. “Dean. Could you please put on some pants?”

They have a great visit. And when Cas has to go to the airport, Dean drives him, helps get his luggage out of the car, and then kisses him goodbye.

Dean rides the high of their visit for a full two days. Then they run out of milk. Dean stops on the way home from the garage to get a jug and a few other groceries. Only one checkout line is open, and the lady in front of him decides to pay with a check.

It’s okay. He’s not in any real hurry.

In boredom, he scans over the magazines in the checkout aisle.

He drops the milk.

WHO IS CASTIEL’S SECRET HOOKUP? the headline reads, on one of the tabloid magazines. And there, right beneath it, is a close up of Dean’s face. It’s fuzzy, like taken from a distance and blown up. A smaller picture beside it shows Dean and Cas in Dean’s front yard, arms around each other, deep in their kiss.

It’s fine, he reasons, as he grabs the whole stack so no one else will see. Except the cashier who looks at the magazine, and then up at Dean. “No way,” she says, and Dean leaves it, leaves everything. He goes to his car and drives home.

“You get the milk?” Sam asks when Dean walks through the door. He looks up, sees Dean, and concern etches across his face. “Dean? What happened?”

“I...” He can’t explain it, really. He knew it would happen, someday. Cas was ultra famous. They couldn’t be together without Dean being pulled into the limelight at least once. But he thought it would be under different circumstances. Controlled, somehow. They’d talked about it. Cas was going to take him to an awards show. They’d wear suits and hold hands.

“This is Dean Winchester,” Cas would say. “My boyfriend.”

They didn’t talk about this.

“Sit down.” Sam guides Dean to the couch. “What happened?”

“I don’t...”

“Breathe,” Sam urges.

Dean tries. “They got my picture.”

Only it’s worse. Because later, after watching the news - “Something to distract you,” Sam says - Sam goes to the bathroom and the celebrity gossip show comes on. The top story?

“We’ve got the scoop from an inside source,” says the host. “All you could ever want to know about pop star Castiel’s new secret lover, Dean Winchester.”

Inside source?

Sam comes back from the bathroom, sees the show, whitens, and rushes for remote to change the channel.

“Leave it,” Dean says, because whoever is talking to these shows about his life, he wants to know.

Their “source” if a fifty year old guy with a British accent who Dean has never seen before in his life. He gives a list of Dean’s personal details - his birthday, his sign, his job. Too much time is spent describing his appearance.

“Who is that?” Sam asks. Dean shrugs.

“Honestly, he works hard,” this guy says. “But he’s a lousy mechanic.”

“Hey!” Dean hops to his feet.

The guy’s expression turns grim. “I don’t think he’s worthy of our Castiel. But I’m sure Castiel sees that too. We have no reason to assume this is more than a fling.”

Anger turns to ice, and Dean sits back down.

Sam flips off the television. “Don’t listen to a word of that garbage.”

Dean nods.

When Cas calls that night, before he even says, Hello, he says, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean says.

“We wanted to do this differently. They must have followed me.”

“I was surprised,” Dean says. “But...” For Cas, he’d do anything. “It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

I don’t think he’s worthy of our Castiel.

“We will figure it out. Together,” Cas says, and Dean lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he held. “I love you, Dean.”

“I... I know, Cas.”

The next day is worse. Strangers come up to him on the street. Most of them are okay, asking if he’s really that guy, if he really knows Cas. Dean gives them vague answers. Some ask for selfies. Dean shies away. Only a few say he’s not good enough for Cas. Dean walks away without a word.

But its those few he remembers.

“Are you okay?” Cas asks, later on the phone.

“I’m fine,” Dean lies. Even he can hear the rattle in his breath.

Cas is quiet for a while, so long Dean thinks he might have hung up. But then he says, “I have an idea. If you want.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Let’s set the record straight.”

A few days later, Dean is backstage at an amphitheater. Cas is onstage in tight pants and a white t-shirt with black wings on the back - the same as when they met. He’s halfway through the show. The crowd is roaring, singing, cheering.

They love him. Dean loves him too.

Between songs, Cas is sweaty and smiley and breathy as he says, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Cas looks over, the bright lights behind him, glowing around his dark hair like a halo.

Dean, helpless against those blue eyes and that smile and the wave of his hand, starts moving forward without really thinking.

When Dean gets close enough, Cas takes his hand and brings it to his lips. Dean steps closer. It’s warm under the lights and his skin tingles.

“This is my boyfriend, Dean,” Cas says, and though there is a microphone between them, it’s Dean he’s speaking to. “And I love him.”

This is how it should be. Them, and the fans. Their terms. That smile.

“I love you, too, Cas.”

And they kiss.

And the crowd cheers on and on.

Three months later, they do attend that awards show. Both wear tuxes and smiles, and Dean holds Cas’s hand like a lifeline because he’s never seen so many cameras or had so many flashes go off in front of his eyes before.

Then they get to the interviewer, who asks about Dean.

“This is Dean Winchester,” Cas says, just like they talked about. “My fiance.”

#i wrote something #destiel #deancas #//////////#///////////////////////#popstar!cas #secret fanboy!dean #part 6/7 #uuuuuuuuuh tags tags tags #the world finds out about dean #self loathing cw #sort of?

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gerrystamour · 4 years

Text

the bittersweet between my teeth, Chapter 6

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

Some Important Notes:

I choose to believe that anything is possible in the future and that includes ridiculously quick turnaround times after near-death and also Getting Sexy New Teef bc I personally find it really hot.

The smut is only available on AO3! Link is in my pinned post! There is nothing in the smutty parts that is plot heavy, so you aren’t “missing” anything that isn’t covered in the PG-13 parts.

Nureyev is a gender euphoric trans man, as in he does not experience any dysphoria, and has not hat top-surgery, and he does not wear a binder. I use a mix of typically masculine and feminine terminology for his anatomy, particularly his genitalia, as I do for my own body as a transmasc individual.

Nureyev is never depicted with dysphoria in my fics, or having discomfort with his body because describing such a thing with a character I deeply identify with will trigger discomfort in my own body, etc.

Chapter Six [Previous Chapter][First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev woke up slowly, his entire body feeling heavy and fatigued with a dull pain in his back and across his stomach, along with lesser pains all over his body. He swallowed and grimaced at the sensation of bandages across his throat.

The memories of the heist were slow to return to him. He could remember the sewers before entering, remembered getting to the vault and collecting the weapons. Then Nureyev remembered the Piranha, Juno coming to rescue him and the slice of pain as the knife plunged between his ribs. He remembered only flashes of their desperate escape, mostly just perfect, stupid, noble Juno refusing to leave him behind, even after discovering the wound.

Straining a bit, he could remember the sewers, laying on the ground while Juno was on his comms, panicked and pleading. The memory of Juno’s outrage at the thought of Nureyev—a thief, a murderer, a nameless criminal, a wanted terrorist—dying in a gutter like he deserved, his conviction that he wouldn’t…

“I love you, Nureyev.”

Jolting at the memory, Nureyev found himself properly awake and looking around for his beautiful detective.

Dread settled in his gut as Nureyev noticed multiple things at once. First, Juno was not anywhere to be seen. Second, he was in a hospital room, which did not bode well. Third, he had no glasses, which made it difficult to get an accurate impression on his situation.

The room he was in appeared to be either rundown or unfinished. The bed he was on felt new, however, so he was inclined to assume the latter. Swallowing thickly, he realized just how dry his throat was and looked around again.

He startled when he realized that someone had actually been sitting beside him, and Nureyev wondered how strong of painkillers he was on were. At first, with how groggy he felt and how fuzzy his vision was, he thought it was Juno, but quickly realized it was Benten.

Benten was reading a book but looked up as Nureyev moved around. He snorted a bit before standing to hand Nureyev a pair of glasses.

“Juno grabbed those for you from your hotel room,” he explained as Nureyev put the glasses on, adding, “He paid for a reservation extension, by the way.”

Nureyev attempted to thank Benten, but only a croak came out. When Benten handed him a water bottle and a straw, he nodded gratefully and took long sips. With his throat soothed a bit, Nureyev tried again and asked, “Where’s Juno?”

Benten stared at him, his expression stony before he sucked his teeth and said, “Taking care of whatever you idiots stole.”

“Ah, right,” Nureyev said with a nod, leaning back and trying not to feel disappointed. That was the smart thing to do, and Nureyev knew it. But waking up, remembering the panicked confessions, and not seeing the lady himself… “That’s good, then.”

“Don’t be too upset, Rex. He was here day and night until you were given the all-clear,” Benten said blandly at Nureyev’s sulking. “It would have been romantic, but he’s my brother, so it’s gross.”

“I’m sure,” Nureyev said with a laugh, looking around again now that he could see. Sure enough, the room he was in was unfinished, with most of the equipment missing and wires hanging from where there would someday be cameras.

“Okay, you know what? No,” Benten burst out, startling Nureyev out of his thoughts abruptly. When Nureyev looked back at him, Benten was glaring at him. “It wouldn’t’ve been romantic, because what you two did was stupid , and reckless , and so far beyond selfish, even I am disgusted with it.”

“Pardon?” Nureyev questioned, bewildered. “We were stopping—”

“Yeah, yeah, you were saving the world, whatever ,” Benten snapped, and it was at that moment that Nureyev realized there were tears in his eyes. “I’m just a little sick of hauling my brother out of gutters, covered in blood. And worse, you two and Rita hid it from me!”

“Benzaiten,” Nureyev started, but he quickly closed his mouth when he realized that nothing he could have said would be helpful.

“Like, fuck,” Benten said with a heavy sigh as he slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “When Juno told us to open without him, and Rita was jumpy all day and then you didn’t show, my first thought was you two dumb saps eloped—”

Nureyev actually choked a bit, blushing deeply. “I didnʼt— We wouldnʼt—”

“—That was literally my worst-case scenario, you know that, Rex? Then Juno’s call happened, and then…” Benten trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Nureyev in the bed before he pouted at the wall next to him.

“Benzaiten, I’m— There’s nothing I can say that can make up for what we did, but I am sorry,” Nureyev said slowly, carefully, and he barely refrained from flinching when Benten looked at him sharply out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Benten said sternly, heaving a huge sigh. “Still mad as hell, though.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said with a nod before asking, “So, what happened after I passed out?”

Benten shrugged before saying, “Rita and I closed the cafe early, raced over, you were… bad , and Juno was…”

When he trailed off again, Nureyev remembered the hysterical edge to Juno’s voice just before he faded completely, and nodded.

“I called Mick, since he’s a security guard here, and he pulled some strings to get you up here,” Benten continued after a moment. “No cameras, and no records at all. Juno threw a ton of creds at the doctors and nurses. Rita’s checking constantly to make sure they keep their end of the deal.”

“Thank you,” Nureyev said after a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“It was Rita’s idea, mostly,” Benten said with a shrug of his shoulders and an eye-roll. “She heard you say ‘no hospitals’ like one of those ridiculous characters from her cheesiest streams and hatched the whole idea.”

Nureyev smiled at that and leaned back against the pillows. “Still, thank you, Benzaiten.”

“Whatever, Rex,” he replied with another eye-roll.

Nureyev actually chuckled, feeling exhaustion coming over him again. “Careful, Benzaiten. You’re almost being nice to me.”

“I’m contractually required to do anything my brother asks for twenty-four hours if he cries,” Benten said flatly. “He asked me to wait with you and ‘be nice’ when you woke up.”

Nureyev laughed out loud, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Licking his chapped lips, he flinched when he found the gap where his teeth used to be. He pressed his tongue into the hole, and made a face, resolving to fix that as quickly as possible.

“Plus, I mean,” Benten began with an explosive sigh. “I can’t really listen to my brother sob about how much he loves a guy while he’s bleeding out in a gutter and then get right back to bullying him when he wakes up. I have some morals or whatever. Yelling at you for being stupid does not count as bullying, though.”

Nureyev froze, eyes flashing open to look at Benten sharply. “How much… did you overhear?”

“Some of it. Enough of it, I guess,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug. “Juno already tore into me about your name, by the way. I get it, my lips are sealed, I’m leaving it alone. You’re ‘Rex’ until you tell me otherwise, okay?”

“Sounds agreeable,” Nureyev said tensely, but he forced himself to relax. This was Benzaiten Steel, the love of his life’s twin brother, with whom Juno shared nearly everything. If there was another person in the galaxy Nureyev would have eventually told, it likely would have been him.

“Just don’t be too hard on him about it,” Benten said quickly. “He’s been working himself into at least three ulcers over it.”

Nureyev merely nodded before he closed his eyes again and laid back. He would think about it more later when he had the opportunity to do so alone.

Benten made an unimpressed noise. “You have to choose your meals, Rex. It’s the paper on your tray.”

Nureyev sighed and shook his head. Exhaustion was dragging on his limbs and he couldn’t be bothered to choose what awful hospital food he would have forced on him.

“Fine, go to sleep. Gonna set you up with a liquid diet,” Benten said sourly. “Nothing but smoothies and broth.”

Nureyev laughed a bit before allowing himself to drop off back to sleep.

It was the next day when Juno returned.

Nureyev was picking at his meal, having eaten everything remotely palatable while Mick sat with him, shuffling a deck of cards. They had played a few rounds of various games up until someone delivered him his meal.

He could hear Juno’s heavy boots in the hall and looked over at the door moments before the detective walked in. Seeing him again, after everything they’d gone through, took the breath right out of Nureyev’s lungs.

Juno’s clothes were dusty and rumpled in a way that made Nureyev think heʼd slept in them, and he had more than a little bit of stubble on his jaw. Nureyev remembered that Juno loved him, and a thousand butterflies took wing in his stomach. He wanted to leap out of the bed and embrace Juno, shower him with romantic verse and tell him over and over and over again that he loved him, too.

But when Juno’s eye met his, he froze in the doorway, his expression open and easy to read for only the briefest of moments. It showed relief first, and then fear before it was closed, like shutters being pulled to keep Nureyev out.

That was concerning, but he wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions.

Mick looked over and grinned, his big goofy one that was usually contagious. “Hey, JayJay! Welcome back!”

“Hey, Mick,” Juno greeted, biting the inside of his cheek but not entering the room any further. “How’s everything?”

“Everything’s great!” Mick replied, turning to scoop up his cards and put them away in their box. “Especially now that you’re back, everything’s perfect!”

“Where are you going?” Juno asked, a look of panic overcoming his expression when his big friend stood and walked toward the door.

“I mean, I was going back to work? I do actually have a job here, you know,” he replied with a full laugh, looking between Juno and Nureyev with a suggestive look. “That, and I figure you two lovebirds would like the chance to catch up.”

Before either of them could say anything, Mick was already out the door, only pausing to clap a heavy hand on Juno’s shoulder as he passed. Once the door shut behind him with a loud clap, silence fell over the room.

After a minute or two with nothing said between them, Nureyev motioned to what was left of his food. “Hungry? I’m not eating the rest of this,” he said, sneering at the remainder of his meal.

Eying what Nureyev had left on his tray, Juno snorted. “Too good for jello and applesauce, Rex?”

“Yes,” Nureyev replied flatly.

With a chuckle, Juno picked up the applesauce pouch and opened it, eating the stuff slowly while Nureyev watched him. The detective was obviously thinking about something, and it wasn’t sitting very well on his mind either. Nureyev just wasn’t quite sure how to bring the topic up in a way that would be productive with his detective.

“Juno, darling—”

“I have to check on the cafe. It's been closed for a couple days,” Juno said suddenly, furrowing his brow down at the pouch of applesauce. “Gotta make sure it’s still in one piece.”

“I—” Nureyev started, his mouth twisting with hurt but he didn’t know what to say. Despite saying he should go, however, Juno hadn’t made any move to leave which gave Nureyev some hope. “O-of course, I understand. Could we talk before you leave, dear?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Juno asked, still pointedly looking at the pouch in his hands, and Nureyev’s frown deepened.

“Well, we can start with something small. How did disposing of the weapons go?” Nureyev asked, working hard to keep his voice steady.

“Went fine, your friend isn’t very talkative,” Juno replied, still not looking at him. “Feel like he kinda overcharged for his services, but hey, I’m not about to argue with someone twice my size. Plus, seemed kind of fitting to use Pereyra’s hush-money.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said, and the sigh escaped him before he could stop it, and he asked, “Have I done something wrong, Juno?”

“What?” Juno asked, finally meeting Nureyev’s gaze with an alarmed look.

“I mean, of course, I’m struggling to think of anything I could’ve done, given that I’ve been unconscious—”

“Rex, why the hell would you think you’ve done anything wrong?” Juno interrupted and Nureyev laughed at the question.

“You have barely looked at me since you returned and were planning to leave the moment you saw I was conscious,” Nureyev listed back at him, raising an eyebrow, trying to calm the rising panic in his gut. “So, either I’ve done something, or… I don’t know, Juno. I don’t know what else all of that could mean.”

“No, Rex, that’s not—” Juno abruptly cut himself off, and just like that, the wall came crumbling down. “I’m—I fucked up, so much, and didn’t listen to anything you said. I know you said no hospitals—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know it was really selfish of me to risk your identity—”

“My love, please—”

“—But I couldn’t just let it happen like that. And then Benten reminded me about Mick—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know Benten overheard your name, I fucked up, forgetting the comms—”

“Juno! Please,” Nureyev finally managed to get in, and Juno shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. Nureyev swivelled his tray out of the way and looked at Juno. “Yes, I said I couldn’t go to the hospital, but you seem to have sufficiently worked around the issues I have with them. As for your other point, yes it was not ideal, someone else learning my name, but I’m not— you didn’t do anything wrong. It can’t be taken back now, regardless.”

“But Rex—”

“I’ve talked to Benzaiten about it already. Now answer this for me: would I have survived if you had not brought me here?” Nureyev interrupted curtly, and he could feel himself shaking as he waited for Juno’s answer.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, and his eye went glassy and wet with emotion. “No,” he replied, his voice something quiet and delicate.

“Then I’m grateful you ignored my wishes, Juno,” Nureyev said with a smile, holding his hand out to reach for Juno. “Now, please, can you just come here and lay with me?”

Juno was quick with tossing the empty pouch of applesauce in the trash and removing his boots before climbing onto the bed next to Nureyev. Juno only paused in laying down to give him a kiss, deepening it with a keening whine and a swipe of his tongue, straddling his lap carefully. The rasp of Juno’s stubble against Nureyev’s face was novel and exquisite, and he almost pulled the detective in for even more.

Then Juno pulled away with a bit of a grimace, laughing at Nureyev’s puzzled expression. “Sorry,” he laughed again, not sounding sorry at all. “Feels kinda weird with the missing teeth.”

Nureyev groaned. “I’m well aware, dear.”

Juno chuckled and kissed him again. “I’m sure I can get used to it. You know, if we practice a bit,” he said suggestively, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in for another kiss. Nureyev smirked and deepened it just enough to warrant a quick nip at Juno’s lower lip as he pulled away.

“That is certainly something we can do,” he agreed, grabbing the front of Juno’s shirt and pulling him in for more.

They made out slow and easy with no sense of urgency and very little heat for some time. Juno brought his hands up to hold Nureyev’s between them, sighing happily as Nureyev licked into his mouth.

After some time passed languidly like that, Juno pulled back to grumble, “How is it you can be out cold for two days and not have just rancid morning breath?”

“They do let me out of this bed, dear detective,” Nureyev replied with a laugh. “That is actually a requirement for them to discharge me. I’ve both bathed and brushed my teeth today.”

“Right, yeah,” Juno said sheepishly. “That makes sense. So you’ll be discharged soon?”

Nureyev nodded and said, “In a few days. The wound on my back has one more round of treatment before I can resume most normal physical activity.”

Juno nodded but was startled by a very big and very loud yawn. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Rex, I’m not bored, just exhausted,” he grumbled a bit as he rubbed his eye tiredly.

Nureyev smiled sweetly at Juno, which had the detective looking at him with a wide eye and chewing on the inside of his cheek. The expression was so strange on his face, so vulnerable that Nureyev expected the shutters to be pulled any moment, but then they weren’t. Another flock of butterflies burst to flight in his stomach.

“You’re fine, darling. Come and lay down with me,” Nureyev finally said, beckoning Juno into his arms, an invitation that was immediately accepted.

Nureyev let out a contented sigh as Juno wrapped around him like an octopus, his mouth and nose pressed into his throat, against the parts of his skin that weren’t covered in bandages. Nureyev shivered at the brushing touch of Juno’s lips, at the hot breath against his neck and felt the fluttering in his gut settle as he wrapped an arm around Juno’s shoulders. Held tight in Nureyev’s arms, Juno sucked in a deep breath through his nose, seemingly holding it before slowly releasing it and burrowing deeper into the nape of his neck.

“Is everything okay, Juno?” he asked quietly, feeling his entire body relaxing with the warmth of his lover against him.

“Mm-hmm,” Juno mumbled, his voice already thick and sleepy. “I was just… just needed to check something.”

Nureyev smiled at that and turned to press his lips against the top of Juno’s head in a gentle kiss. “Juno,” he said quietly, his heart jumping when he remembered Juno’s confession again. “I wanted to ask you something.”

There was no response from the detective except for a quiet, gentle snore. Juno was sound asleep within the handful of minutes it had taken him to settle in against him, and Nureyev couldn’t have helped the smile that came to his face if he wanted to.

- - - - -

It was dark when Nureyev was woken up, and he was immediately tense. Something was wrong, and for a delirious moment he thought it was the weight holding him down that was the issue. Then the memories of the hospital, Juno returning, and both of them falling asleep together came back in a rush.

Juno twitched and let out a low groan, his fingers curled tightly into the front of Nureyev’s medical gown. He was clammy, his sweat soaking through to Nureyev’s skin, and he was shivering. Then Juno gagged, dry-heaving as he woke up and looked around wildly.

Nureyev grabbed the little bucket he had been provided by the hospital and handed it to Juno, who immediately used it with incredible enthusiasm. The whole time, Nureyev rubbed his back gently, pausing to massage the back of Juno’s neck when he was done unloading the contents of his stomach, humming quietly as the detective tried to calm his breathing. A few minutes later, after successfully staving off another bout of puking, Juno finally leaned over to place the bucket on the bedside table.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he groaned, covering his face and his voice sounded entirely too upset for Nureyev’s liking. “They come back when I’m stressed out. The nightmares, I mean.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Nureyev asked, reaching up to gently pull Juno’s hands away from his face.

Juno blinked at him as if the answer was plain as day, baffled that he would even have to ask. “I woke you up,” Juno said flatly, as if that was enough of a reason. “I woke you up, almost puked on you, and shit, I’m so sweaty—”

“Juno, dear, do you realize how low those things are on my list of priorities?” Nureyev interrupted, lifting his hands to cradle Juno’s face. “Right now, I’m worried about you, love.”

He could feel Juno’s face heat up against his palms, the detective clearly embarrassed and perhaps a bit overwhelmed. “It’s— you need your sleep, so I should go,” Juno quickly said, but before he could get up, Nureyev adjusted his hands to hold the back of Juno’s head.

“What you’re going to do, Juno Steel, is go into that bathroom and use one of the toothbrushes provided by the hospital,” Nureyev said firmly, and Juno went still next to him. “Then you’re going to come back here and lay with me again.

“You don’t have to do this, Rex,” Juno whispered, and Nureyev pulled him down so he could press a kiss to his forehead.

“Of course I don’t, Juno. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Nureyev replied, sighing as he let Juno sit back enough to meet his gaze again. “If you refuse to let me do this for you, then do as I ask for my own comfort. I’m worried about you, and would very much like to hold you.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek as he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he eventually asked and Nureyev laughed softly.

“Of course I am, darling,” he replied, pursing his lips tightly. “Now go and brush your teeth. I expect you to come right back here.”

Juno huffed a weak laugh and as he slipped off the bed, he muttered a quiet, “Yes, sir.” Nureyev found himself a bit breathless at being called “sir” and decided that might be something for them to explore properly later.

A few minutes later, Juno crawled back onto the bed, squawking a bit when Nureyev yanked him forward by the front of his shirt. Tucking the detective in beside him, Nureyev dipped his head to capture Juno’s lips in a chaste kiss, sighing when Juno pressed up into it.

“Would it… help to talk about it?” Nureyev asked a bit haltingly when they pulled apart. He personally had very little experience with nightmares and even less with the nightmares of a loved one.

“I don’t know,” Juno replied after a bit, and he flopped down next to Nureyev, tucking his head under his chin. “They’re just about when I lost my eye.”

“Ah, I see,” Nureyev hummed, rubbing Juno’s back soothingly.

“But now you’re there,” he confessed, wrapping his arm tightly around Nureyev’s waist. “When I was so busy fussing about my aim that she got you. Keeps replaying.”

“Juno, please understand that I am incredibly grateful for you taking what time you did to aim,” Nureyev said firmly. “Also, understand that she was going to ‘get me’ whether you shot her or not.”

Juno stiffened in his arms before propping himself up to look at Nureyev’s face. “What?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure if this will be comforting to you or not,” Nureyev started, before sighing. “I felt the knife before you even lifted your blaster, Juno. It was likely her plan to stab me, and let me bleed out while she continued taunting you.”

At that, Juno sat up fully to meet Nureyev’s gaze properly. “Seriously?”

“She underestimated you, dear detective,” Nureyev replied, smiling. “She didn’t do it as some sort of last moment revenge on you. She truly believed she had won.”

“That’s…” Juno trailed off before chuckling a bit. “That actually is kind of comforting.”

“I should hope so,” Nureyev said with a laugh of his own. “You were amazing in there, and I cannot thank you enough for doing literally nothing I told you to.”

Juno laughed out loud and bent to kiss Nureyev, slow and searching before pulling away to snuggle in tight again.

“I’ve always had a problem with authority,” he joked around a yawn.

Nureyev chuckled at that and squeezed Juno against his side. Within a few minutes, Juno was asleep again and Nureyev was drifting off to join him.

- - - - -

Nureyev discharged himself from the hospital a day early. He had managed to convince Juno to go home early in the evening, and that he would come by the cafe the next day at dinnertime, so there was no need to visit him again. There was part of him that knew leaving Mars immediately was wiser, that staying was just asking to get caught again by Ramses or even Pereyra.

But Nureyev was fairly confident that the information dug up and subsequently leaked for both mayoral candidates would keep them busy for the foreseeable future, at least long enough to spend a couple more nights however he pleased.

And what he wanted most was to spend his last night on Mars with a cranky private investigator. He also had another appointment.

So he changed hotels to something fancier, though discreet with very few surveillance cameras in the halls, as the establishment catered to guests seeking a more romantic experience. They would not be watched, nor bothered, and the rooms all had incredible sound-proofing between units.

Nureyev decided he should go all out for his romantic evening with Juno, and rented the honeymoon suite. It was a corner suite on the highest floor, which would give them an almost panoramic view of Hyperion City and the surface of Mars beyond the dome through uninterrupted floor-to-ceiling windows. Just off the spacious living room through a set of double-doors was the bedroom and it’s ensuite.

Nureyev was particularly enamoured with the king-sized four-poster bed, which was on a raised platform and tucked right into the corner of windows. There were gauzy fabrics hanging from the ceiling and secured at points above the corners of the bed, though they only draped to curtain off the two sides of the bed facing into the bedroom. The gauzy fabric was lined with thousands of dots of gentle, amber lights that twinkled like stars.

The ensuite itself was massive, with a huge soaker tub and luxurious shower stall, both also situated against floor-to-ceiling windows.

Nureyev spent the better part of his afternoon chatting with the concierge about arrangements for the next evening and then, after asking her a few questions about local stores, he headed out to do some shopping.

The next day, Nureyev properly groomed himself for the first time since the heist, which had been… a bit of an ordeal he hadn’t anticipated.

It was the first time he had seen himself naked for any amount of time without bandages and there was a vain part of him that cringed away from himself, that squirmed at the idea of Juno seeing him like that.

The scars on his face would be easy to hide with make-up, he decided, especially the thinner ones that decorated his cheeks and the line of his jaw. The ones on his throat would be trickier, and he cursed his lack of foresight during his shopping trip the day before. He could have gotten a nice collar or something to cover them up. He would have to use make-up until he found a more suitable alternative.

It was the mess of slashes on his chest and the electrical burn scars on his abdomen that caused him the most distress, given his penchant for revealing tops. He didn’t have much in the way of sexy clothing that would hide those, and make-up wouldn’t be ideal.

What would Juno think?

But then he remembered that Juno wore his scars, if not with pride then with defiance. What would that say to Juno, if Nureyev went to such great lengths to hide his own wounds? What would that communicate to his sensitive detective?

So with a determined sigh, Nureyev got dressed without consideration for hiding anything, putting on a black, cropped top with a plunging neckline that showed off all of the jagged scars across his chest, and if not for the corset-waisted slacks he wore, the burn scar would also have been almost completely visible.

He finished his look off with a loose braid, tied off with a black ribbon, keeping his hair quite nicely out of his face.

Nureyev looked at himself in the mirror again, and hated what he saw, but he would learn to be okay with it. If Juno could, so could Nureyev.

As he left the hotel that afternoon, he stopped by the front desk to verify that the special accommodations he set up the night before were still happening, and to inform them he was leaving for the day for their convenience.

The cab ride to his first destination was short and sweet, and Nureyev asked the driver to keep the meter running, regardless of how long it took him to return.

It did not take long, as he had been promised it wouldn’t when the specialist had visited him at the hospital. It was only thirty minutes, and he was returning to the cab with a new set of teeth. The marvels of modern medicine and cosmetic surgery had allowed him to easily and almost painlessly fix the mess the Piranha had made of his iconic smile. He even paid a little bit extra to get something a bit flashier than boring old white, going instead with something that looked like rose gold, inspired by the ear cuff Juno always wore.

In the back of the cab, Nureyev was beside himself with excitement to show Juno, bouncing his knee and drumming a beat on his thigh. By the time they reached the cafe, he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.

“Keep the meter running again, please,” Nureyev said breathlessly to the driver, sliding out and walking into the cafe

Juno was behind the counter with Benten and Rita, the three of them chatting while Juno was balancing an empty serving tray on the tip of his finger. Juno was less rumpled—wearing a pink sweater-dress that exposed his shoulders and just enough of his collarbones to make Nureyev’s mouth water—though he still had quite a bit of stubble defining the sharp edge of his jaw.

Nureyev may have commented on the stubble at one point while he was in the hospital, perhaps in the middle of a heated make-out session with his detective. There was also the possibility that he had made a crude comment about where else he might enjoy feeling the burn of it. Juno had since been conspicuously lax on shaving, and that excited Nureyev greatly.

Juno looked over, and when he properly registered that it was indeed Nureyev he was seeing, his face lit up. It wasn’t a grin, but there was a way his face would shift when he smirked at him that felt like the entire sun was being channelled through it. Juno’s posture straightened and he grabbed the tray between both of his hands to avoid dropping it.

“They let you out early for good behaviour?” Juno asked teasingly, pushing a grumpy Benten out of the way so he could lean against the counter as Nureyev approached. “Thought you wouldn’t be here until after dinner.”

“I actually discharged myself last night to get a few things prepared. I also had an appointment today,” Nureyev said as he stopped at the counter. He placed his hands on the counter top and leaned close, grinning broadly at the detective.

The moment Juno saw the new teeth, his eye widened and the tray slipped out of his hands, clattering loudly against the counter before hitting the floor.

Benten let out a low, begrudgingly impressed whistle before turning a judgmental look on Juno.

Rita however shoved herself up as tall as she could get on the counter short of standing on it, letting out a high-pitched sound of excitement. Without hesitation, she grabbed Nureyev’s face with both hands and turned it side to side before squealing again.

“Wow, Mista Glass, that is so cool! And preeetty!” she gushed before gasping dramatically and letting go of his face. “They’re pretty-cool! Not pretty cool as in cooler than normal, boring cool, but pretty-cool as in they’re both pretty and cool because they’re cool and pretty!”

She barely paused to catch her breath before she smacked Juno’s arm with a stern look. “Mista Steel, aren’tcha gonna say something nice about Mista Glass’ new teeth?” she growled in a tone that she possibly thought was quiet, but the entire restaurant heard her.

Juno swallowed thickly, taking in a shaky breath before nodding. “Uh,” he began, his voice too hoarse to continue right away, so he cleared his throat before saying, “They’re, uh, they’re really great. They l-look, uh, good.”

Nureyev took a moment to bite his bottom lip, feigning shyness to show off the teeth pressing into soft flesh. Juno’s breath left him in a quick whoosh at that, his expression taking on an even more dazed quality.

“Holy shit,” Juno whispered dreamily, quiet enough that only the three of them with him at the counter could hear.

At that, Benten pulled a face and gagged audibly. “Oh, gross. Get a room,” he groaned loudly, and Juno spluttered for a moment, successfully snapped out of his stupor.

Nureyev turned a broad grin on Benten, not missing the way Juno’s eye locked on his mouth again.

“I did, in fact, get one,” he said, and turned to look at Juno again, adding, “I’m here to collect my dear detective for the evening.”

Rita actually screamed with her delight, gaining the attention of every patron in the cafe, and abruptly turned to start pulling Juno’s apron off.

“Aw, Mista Glass, how romantic! C’mon, Mista Steel, get outta here!” she commanded, growling when Juno kept knocking her hands away.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, finally managing to get Rita to stop grabbing at his clothes. For the first time since Nureyev arrived, Juno looked unsure and Nureyev wanted to pull him into a kiss.

“I’m not really dressed for a date, Rex,” he said, and Nureyev could tell he was pulling down the back of his dress nervously. Nureyev smiled at him, feeling utterly fond of Juno in a way that was almost smothering.

“You look beautiful, radiant even, my love,” he replied and Rita made that sound of hers again, the one like a rocketship revving, while Benten groaned and rolled his eyes.

“What a line, Rex,” Benten said flatly. “Juno’s not that easy—”

“Y-yeah, okay. Yeah,” Juno interrupted, his gaze turning dreamy again as he fished the keys to the cafe out of the pocket of his dress and finished taking off his apron.

“Wow, I stand corrected,” Benten murmured, eyebrows raised as he accepted the keys from Juno. “Are you going to be home in time to open tomorrow, or should I post a sign?”

Juno glanced at Nureyev, who merely smirked at him suggestively, relishing Benten’s gag and Rita’s snickers.

“The sign might be a better idea, Ben,” Juno replied with his own little smirk before he came around the counter and followed Nureyev out.

They slid into the backseat of the cab, sitting flush together and the moment they were settled, Nureyev pulled Juno into a kiss. It was chaste, for the sake of the driver if nothing else, but he desperately wanted to deepen it. Juno, the absolute minx, tested his restraint when he dragged his pierced tongue along the seam of his lips.

However, the driver cleared his throat and Juno pulled away so quickly, Nureyev feared he might exit the vehicle entirely.

“So, where to now, Mr Rose?” the driver asked, his expression unimpressed in the rear view mirror.

Nureyev only smiled at the man’s sour look and said, “Back to the hotel, please.”

“Your hotel?” Juno asked, and when Nureyev looked at him, he was delighted to see the confused little pout.

It was obvious Juno was thinking about the seedy little hotel room he’d booked before the heist, and it was endearing that he had expected better. Nureyev smiled soothingly down at Juno, grabbing his thigh and squeezing lightly.

“Do you trust me, love?” Nureyev asked, low and quiet.

“Well, yeah,” Juno said without hesitation.

Nureyev leaned down and gave Juno a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and the detective immediately turned into it. Nureyev was almost sad that he had to pull away, lest he get carried away.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t take you to a hovel for—” he paused, realizing what he was about to say, and that it would be the first time he was saying it aloud. Nureyev took a deep breath, and said, “For our last night before I leave.”

Juno’s expression faltered, becoming deeply sad before he visibly rallied himself with a small smile. “Okay.”

When they pulled up to the hotel, Juno let out a low whistle and looked down at his sweater-dress and clunky leather boots. “Damn, Duke. Now I’m definitely underdressed,” he said, and while it was said as if it was a joke, it sounded a bit too self-deprecating for Nureyev’s liking.

Nureyev paid the cabby handsomely for being a chauffeur and got out when the doorman opened his door. Reaching back into the cab, he helped Juno slide out with a firm grip on his hand.

“I said you looked radiant, love, and I meant it,” Nureyev soothed. “And if it worries you so much, I do have something up in the room for you to change into.”

“You bought me clothes?” Juno asked him incredulously, his face the picture of annoyance but his tone lacked all heat.

“Only a few items, love, and at quite the discount, too. A steal even,” Nureyev said cheekily, kissing the top of Juno’s head and tangling their fingers together. “So don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

“Duke, is this… okay?” Juno asked quietly as Nureyev led him inside by their clasped hands. When Juno tucked himself in close to his side, Nureyev looked down at him and while the detective looked unsure, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

“This hotel is very discreet, very few cameras,” Nureyev explained, squeezing Juno’s hand a bit. “Also, we aren’t hiding from mayors, aspiring or otherwise, nor their shared criminal bodyguard.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Juno said as an adorable smile curved his lips, and Nureyev was very nearly about to bend and kiss him senseless right there in the lobby.

“And,” Nureyev began in a lower voice as they arrived at the elevators. “The staff might think it’s odd if we walked in acting like we barely knew each other.”

“And why’s that?” Juno asked, looking up at him through his lashes.

“I requested a few romantic accommodations earlier,” he replied with a smirk, pausing at Juno’s shaky inhale. “And, I did rent the honeymoon suite.”

“Are you serious?” Juno asked as the elevator dinged with its arrival, his hand twitching in Nureyev’s.

“Of course I am,” Nureyev says with a winning smile as they stepped inside. Juno’s gaze, as Nureyev expected, was immediately drawn to the new teeth. “Only the best for my beautiful lady, after all.”

As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, Nureyev was dragged down by the front of his loose and flowy shirt, his mouth captured in a hungry kiss. Juno whined, pressing as close to Nureyev’s body as he could, tongue pressing into his mouth insistently. The sudden armful of solid detective had Nureyev stumbling back against the wall, chuckling into Juno’s mouth before meeting his tongue halfway. He allowed the kiss for a few moments before he gently pushed Juno back, grinning at the detective’s dazed expression.

“Slow down, love,” he said soothingly as the elevator slowed to a stop. When the doors reopened, Nureyev took Juno’s hand again and began to lead him down the hall. “We have all night.”

“That a promise?” Juno asked huskily, and Nureyev was shocked at how slick he felt between his legs already.

“Well, I’m certainly up for the challenge,” Nureyev replied as they arrived at the door to the suite, pulling out his key and smirking down at Juno. “And I fully expect you to stay the night this time.”

“Sounding pretty confident there, Rose,” Juno teased.

“I can be quite persuasive, I’ve been told,” Nureyev replied, beckoning Juno inside once he got the door open.

Upon seeing the suite, Juno gasped and let go of Nureyev’s hand to cross the room to the windows overlooking his city.

Nureyev took the time that Juno was distracted to survey the room for his requests and remove his gloves. There was a small table set up with a tablecloth and a beautiful flower arrangement, ready and waiting for their dinner to be delivered in the next hour or so. The monitor was on, set to a station that was playing gentle, romantic music.

Overall, he was pleased with the hotel’s work and had faith the bedroom and ensuite were to his specifications as well. Joining Juno at the windows, he looked down and his breath caught at the stunned expression on the detective’s face. Juno finally turned his gaze away to look at the suite, his eye wide.

“Nureyev,” he started, and it was that moment that Nureyev realized he hadn’t heard his name from those lips in days, a realization that almost knocked him off his feet. “This is… really nice.”

Nureyev was very suddenly unsure of his plans, whether they were the right course of action or if they were more likely to scare the detective away. Juno looked overwhelmed, his eye wet with unshed tears, his bottom lip quivering a bit before he bit it lightly. Nureyev cupped Juno’s cheeks in both hands, wiping away a tear that was about to fall.

“Juno, is this okay?” he asked, truly worried he’d gone too far.

“Yeah, jeez, sorry. This is amazing, just,” Juno said with a laugh, tilting his head into one of Nureyev’s hands and closing his eye with a watery sigh. “No one’s ever done something this nice for me.”

Not for the first time, Nureyev was overcome with the urge to hunt down and strangle the life out of every single person who had deemed themselves worthy of Juno Steel’s time. They had all swept him up and they took, and took, and took from him, not once putting in the work to deserve him, leaving Juno to tear up over the bare minimum.

Instead, Nureyev stooped to kiss Juno, deep and searching, drawing the soft little gasping moans he loved so dearly from his gorgeous detective.

“Well, then I’m glad to have been the first,” he said as they parted for air. “Dinner should be arriving in just over an hour. The bathroom is just inside the bedroom if you would like to freshen up a bit?”

Juno took a deep breath and nodded, stepping out of Nureyev’s embrace. “Yeah, I’ll go do that,” he said, a bit dazed still, and when he turned to walk away, Nureyev followed him.

“You know, I’ve been running around all morning, so I think I’ll get cleaned up as well,” he said with a cheeky grin, the expression widening at Juno’s sceptical snort.

“I doubt we have time for both of us to take a shower, Nureyev,” Juno said.

“I’m sure we could think of some sort of arrangement, love,” Nureyev purred suggestively, thoroughly enjoying the confused look on Juno’s face when he glanced back.

“What the hell does—” he began, but at Nureyev’s smirk, his expression went slack with realization, an expression Nureyev found as beautiful as it was priceless. “—Oh.”

Juno swallowed thickly and stammered, “Y-yeah, I mean sure—yeah, we can do that. Totally.”

Nureyev smiled wide when Juno cut himself off shyly, biting the inside of his cheek. Juno glanced at the new teeth again, and Nureyev took that moment to drag his tongue lightly across the points of them. Juno took a shuddery breath before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bedroom.

The opulence of the bedroom actually tripped Juno up a bit, Nureyev running into him when he staggered to a halt with a gasp.

The curtains around the bed were freed from their tie-backs, and the twinkling lights in the billowy canopy were turned on. The gauzy fabrics obscured the view of the bed and windows beyond by quite a bit, but Nureyev did like that they wouldn’t offer complete privacy.

Taking a deep breath, Juno continued into the ensuite, only to come to an abrupt halt all over again.

The room was lit up in the gentle, amber light of the chandelier hanging above the huge round soaker tub to their left. It was set into a ledge which sat against the massive windows overlooking the city. The tub was already full of steamy water, and there was a near-solid layer of rose petals across the surface. The petals were also scattered across the edge of the tub, the window ledge, and the floor around it.

“Jeez, Nureyev. Are there any roses left in Hyperion City?” Juno all but whispered next to him, and he flushed deeply.

He had requested a romantic set-up for the evening, certainly, but he had expressed that his date would not appreciate a spectacle. The concierge had confirmed a subtle, understated romantic feel, and Nureyev shuddered at the thought of what the full romantic package would have looked like.

Nureyev turned to defend himself and saw the expression on Juno’s face. His eye was wide with wonder and delight, as well as something intense like yearning— no, it was love that overtook Juno’s expression. Nureyev was winded when he realized that Juno loved it, every part of it, right down to the floral massacre in the bathtub. The sass was an attempt at deflecting, at trying not to let on just how much he wanted it.

With a tug of their clasped hands, Nureyev spun Juno into his embrace and dipped down for a searching kiss, hands twisting in the knit of Juno’s dress. Juno whined and opened for him, pushing up onto his toes with his hands holding Nureyev’s biceps. They stood flush together, mouths moving slow and perfect, and Nureyev sighed when Juno’s tongue pressed against his own, the piercings sending a thrill through him.

Nureyev pulled back to catch his breath, and Juno tipped back onto his heels to stare up at him, dazed and smiling. He took in the face of his detective, his gaze lingering on the plain black eyepatch for a few moments before lifting a hand questioningly. It wasn’t even particularly important to him if Juno wore the eyepatch or not—that was Juno’s decision, and his decision only. Nureyev only figured that it would be an inconvenient obstacle in the bath.

Juno sucked in a sharp breath as Nureyev’s fingers lightly touched the eyepatch, and Nureyev waited for a sign to continue or back off. There was a beat before Juno gave him a quick nod, and Nureyev slowly lifted it off, tossing it onto the vanity.

Turning back to his detective, Nureyev took in the full view of Juno’s face for the first time since meeting him.

Nureyev found himself surprised to see that Juno still had his natural eye. For whatever reason, he had expected the eye to have been completely removed, but that was not the case.

“They were able to save the eye itself,” Juno muttered quietly, tensely as if hearing Nureyev’s thoughts. “Couldn’t get the vision back.”

Nureyev nodded with a comforting smile and looked his face over, really taking it in and cataloging each new thing.

There were three very distinct scars running vertically over the eyelid. Two of them were quite shallow and short, just enough to have drawn blood and cause pain, but minimal permanent damage. The third, however, was deep and jagged, starting just under Juno’s brow and ending just about his cheekbone. While the eye itself had been salvaged, it was murky where the scarring and blood vessels had formed over the damaged iris and pupil.

The injury would have been brutal, the pain immense, and for a moment Nureyev was deeply disappointed that the Piranha had been given a quick execution.

Juno’s breathing quickened as Nureyev took his time, his eyes glancing down before he began to turn away, biting the inside of his cheek. Nureyev made a small sound, a gentle tsk as he cupped Juno’s jaw with both hands and turned him back to meet his gaze. The detective was shaking, waiting for Nureyev’s reaction and it was obvious he expected the worst.

And Nureyev wasn’t sure he could blame Juno; if anything Piranha had said about this supposed fiance of Juno’s was true, he had every reason to fear such vulnerability.

Slowly, Nureyev bent to place a gentle, lingering kiss to Juno’s cheekbone, waiting out the bout of shuddering breaths. The moment Juno released a soft sigh, and the tension leaked out of his shoulders, he moved his lips to the corner of his eye. There he waited again, humming happily when Juno almost immediately tilted his head back, and leaned his body closer to Nureyev.

Nureyev dropped a hand to wrap around Juno’s back to hold him firmly, soothingly, and gently brushed a gentle, barely-there kiss to Juno’s scarred eyelid.

“You’re gorgeous, my love,” Nureyev breathed, and he could feel tears pricking behind his eyelids with the ferocity of his emotions for Juno. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Juno made a soft, almost wounded sound before he tipped his head back and surged up onto his toes to capture Nureyev’s lips again. With a happy sigh, Nureyev gathered Juno up into his arms, pressing closer and deeper, wanting to taste and feel Juno as much and as quickly as possible. He was overwhelmed by the way the detective clung and squirmed against him, making soft and desperate sounds against his tongue.

Nureyev pulled back with a groan and dropped his mouth to Juno’s shoulder, exposed as it was with the open panels of his dress, and bit it lightly. Juno gasped, tipping his head back with a shudder, and Nureyev let go to place an open-mouthed kiss against the spot, lapping at it soothingly as Juno let out a sob.

He startled at the metallic tang of blood and pulled back to check on Juno. There were two cuts, each tiny enough to have stopped bleeding already, but Nureyev still cursed himself under his breath for being reckless.

“I’m sorry about that, my love,” he said sheepishly, kissing the spot soothingly again. “These new teeth are quite sharp.”

“Yeah, they are,” Juno sighed dreamily, and when Nureyev properly looked at him, the detective appeared perfectly blissed out. “They’re amazing.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, are they?” he asked with a smirk, and at Juno’s rare, unrestrained grin, Nureyev pressed in for another searching kiss.

- - - - -

They sat in the bathtub for some time, slowly making out while they caught their breath after their impromptu romp. Nureyev was floating above the clouds it seemed, weightless and blissed-out with his lady in his lap and in his arms.

Juno made a small sound in his throat at one particularly languid pass of Nureyev’s tongue and squirmed against him. Heat was building again, and Nureyev was happy to be swept away by it again. He knew there was a reason not to, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember it when Juno shifted to straddle his lap, sitting flush to his front and playing with his tits idly.

“The hell was that?”

Nureyev actually whined when Juno wrenched away from his mouth, and he chased after the kiss. His lips found Juno’s throat instead, which was perfectly fine for him.

“Duke, knock it off, I heard something!” Juno hissed and that caught Nureyev’s attention.

Pulling away, Nureyev and Juno sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the sound of movement in the living room. At a sound that was clearly the clinking of cutlery and crystal, Nureyev cringed.

“That is likely the serving staff,” he said slowly, tipping his head back against the cushioned lip of the tub and closing his eyes. “Delivering our food.”

“Duke… did you close any of the doors coming in here?” Juno asked quietly, drawing the question out and pulling a chuckle from Nureyev.

“I did not,” he confessed. “I foolishly had not planned for us to have… appetizers, so to speak.”

“So they heard at least some of that?”

There was something odd in Juno’s tone, and Nureyev opened his eyes again to meet his gaze, worried that Juno was upset. “It’s entirely likely,” he replied carefully.

Nureyev did not miss the look of intense interest that crossed Juno’s face, and he was a little shocked that the detective would be inclined toward a bit of exhibitionism. Then again, he thought, Juno had been the one to wear fancy lingerie to work under a sweater-dress that barely covered his ass. Excitement pulsed through Nureyev at the thought of Juno wanting to show off a bit, about taking Juno where they might get caught, where they could be heard and possibly seen.

He quickly filed that away, however, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he got too hot again.

“Perhaps we should wash up while we wait for them to leave?” Nureyev suggested, and Juno nodded quickly, smiling openly at the thief.

They took their time wiping each other down, slowly kissing while they did. Nureyev paid special attention to Juno, keeping his touches light and chaste, though their intent for later were quite clear. Juno leaned heavily against him, accepting the pampering with a sigh while he mouthed at Nureyev’s pulse.

When they had finished up, Nureyev cradled Juno’s cheek gently and smiled lightly when their gazes met again. Juno leaned forward with a sigh, and Nureyev happily accepted the slow, sweet kiss, wrapping his detective in his arms loosely. It was utterly perfect, and Nureyev almost cursed when the noises from the living room quieted and they heard the door to the hallway close.

“I think it is safe to get out now, dear,” he murmured against Juno’s lips, gently pushing him away and encouraging him to stand up.

Juno grumbled as he did, unclipping the collar of his harness and peeling it off of himself. Nureyev watched Juno move around the bathroom in all of his naked glory with an appreciative eye as he got out of the tub.

“I have something else for you to wear this evening,” Nureyev said as Juno moved to grab his sweater-dress off the ground, touching his arm lightly and smiling when the detective looked up at him questioningly. “It’s in the closet just inside the room. I’ll meet you at the dinner table.”

Juno blinked up at him, a bit dazed by the gentle commands, and nodded as he returned the smile.

Nureyev watched the detective leave before he turned to the cabinet in the bathroom, where he kept his own outfit for the evening.

It could hardly be called an “outfit,” though.

After seeing Juno in his harness on their first date, Nureyev simply had to get his own, a sleek black and gold number that had straps and the gold detailing all the way down to mid-thigh. The embroidered design decorated his abdomen with a chevron that ended just below his sternum, framing his pelvis along the outside edge of the piercings lining his hips.

Over the harness, Nureyev pulled on a short, sheer black robe which tied shut at the waist with a thick black ribbon. The entire back of the robe was lace and completely see-through, showing off all of the straps of his harness where they hugged his pale skin.

Slipping his glasses back onto his face, Nureyev looked around the room and made a face at the smudges, huffing with some annoyance. He picked his pants up off the floor and dug for the cloth he kept specially for cleaning them, cursing his hoarding tendencies for the first time in his decades-long career. After a few too many moments of struggling, Nureyev made a small sound of triumph when his fingers finally closed around the little scrap of material.

Wiping his glasses clean and putting them back on, he completed the ensemble with a pair of black silk slippers. Then, fixing his braid, Nureyev walked out to the living room to join his lover.

Nureyev was nearly winded at the sight of Juno as he stood by the windows and looked out over Hyperion City in the long, sleeveless robe Nureyev had bought him. The fabric was gauzy and pale pink, sheer enough to see the outline of Juno’s legs through it with the neon of the city shining in on him.

Juno must have heard him and turned around a bit with a warm smile. Nureyev could see a hint of the new harness he procured for Juno through the V of the robe, pink and cream flowers decorating his chest and ending in a pretty collar of flowers at the base of his throat. The robe itself was tied by three delicate ribbons at the thick panel of pink and blue flowery lace just above Juno’s natural waist.

Nureyev wanted nothing more than to untie those little ribbons and devour Juno.

When he finally snapped himself out of his own thoughts, he realized Juno was staring. Their gazes met in the next moment and they both swallowed thickly. Juno’s expression was so beautiful, full of want and love, that Nureyev was ready to forgo every plan he had to leave the next day and stay.

Juno cleared his throat and he glanced away. “The hell do you have such long legs for, Nureyev?” Juno asked, his tone so offended and accusatory that Nureyev couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“And why are yours so thick and enticing?” the thief countered, looking pointedly at where he could see Juno’s gorgeous thighs through the opening of his robe.

Juno merely bit the inside of his cheek, and the smirk he wore was tinged with something distinctly pleased.

Nureyev motioned at the table set with their dinner and asked, “Care to join me, dear?”

Juno smirked and crossed the room. “Thought you’d never ask,” he teased and sat down.

Their dinner was quite lovely, filled with casual chatter, laughter, and more than a few glasses of champagne. Juno looked so happy and relaxed across from him, smiling and laughing openly. Nureyev couldn’t help but watch him dreamily as he animatedly told a story from his childhood.

Juno looked so beautiful in the dim, amber lighting of the living room, and Nureyev’s heart ached with the weight of knowing he could not keep him.

Nureyev remembered the pleading “I love you’s” from the sewers as Juno ended his story, and he placed his glass on the table.

“Juno, I distinctly remember I had asked you to accompany me to a gala,” Nureyev started, drawing it out only in part to enjoy the way Juno pouted. “I had done so with the hope that I would have the honour of dancing with you.”

Juno cringed. “Yeah?”

Nureyev nodded and stood, his gut churning with anxiety about what he was about to do for the first time that evening. Offering his hand to Juno, he asked, “May I have this dance?”

“Here?” Juno asked, biting the inside of his cheek. “Now?”

“There’s music, there’s space, and there’s two of us,” Nureyev replied, smiling winningly down at Juno, even as his stomach roiled. He was only comforted a small amount by Juno’s hungry look at his new teeth. “So why not here? Why not now?”

Juno made a face of mock disapproval, but accepted the offered hand and allowed Nureyev to tug him in close. They were hardly dancing, only holding each other and gently rocking, but for Nureyev it was perfect. When he looked down at the detective, he could see tears in Juno’s eyes, belying once again just how much he loved it. It only took a few slow turns for Juno to melt completely against Nureyev with a sigh, resting his ear against the thief’s chest.

They danced together quietly while Nureyev contemplated how best to bring up what he heard in the sewers. He didn’t want to scare Juno off, but Nureyev couldn’t leave Mars without telling the beautiful detective the depths of his own feelings.

“Juno, I wanted to ask you about something,” Nureyev started tentatively, and frowned when Juno tensed in his arms.

“Mm-hmm?” Juno prompted, and Nureyev really wished he’d started this when he could see the detective’s face.

“Well, it’s more I would like to tell you something, but,” he babbled a bit nervously before he took a deep, calming breath that did nothing to help calm him, and said, “I remember hearing you say something in the sewers before I passed out.”

Juno went rigid and pulled back, though they did not pause in their dance. Nureyev’s stomach twisted when he realized that Juno had that unreadable expression on his face that he’d only seen once before.

When he had told him his name and confessed to working for the people who ruined his life.

“You do?” Juno asked, his voice flat and Nureyev realized too late he had brought it up all wrong and began scrambling internally for the words to defuse the situation.

“Yes,” Nureyev said after taking a deep breath. “I was still lucid enough to hear you, when you said you lo—”

“Shit, I didn’t—” Juno hissed, pulling out of the embrace, and Nureyev let him. Then he growled at himself, “Shit, Steel, there you go ruining things again.”

Nureyev stepped forward and gently grabbed Juno’s hand. “Juno, just let me finish—”

Juno wrenched his hand away and looked around the room. His expression was so intensely sad for just a second that Nureyev felt his own eyes prickle with tears. Then the shutters behind Juno’s gaze slammed down, and when Juno’s eyes met his again, he saw anger.

“I always do this, get too attached, too soon and then—” Juno muttered, mostly to himself before cutting off with a bitter laugh and eye-roll. “That’s why you did this, isn’t it?”

“Well, the short answer is yes, Juno, but—”

“All of this, it’s all just a joke. Or I’m an easy lay until you find the next stupid sap on some other stupid planet who’ll spread their legs for you,” Juno spat, but then his expression changed, filling with something like humiliation. “Or worse, you felt bad.”

“Juno, please—” Nureyev began, reaching for the detective again, frustration building in him when Juno stepped away from him. For how intelligent and logical he knew Juno to be most of the time, Nureyev was genuinely surprised by his commitment to jumping to the worst possible conclusions if the truth meant happiness for him.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” Juno cut him off again, and though he worded it like a question, it was spoken as an accusation with such bitter anger that Nureyev almost flinched. “You feel bad for me because I was stupid enough to fall in lo— fall for you in two weeks like some fucking teenager. About what the Piranha said about my ex. About my eye. All of it.”

Nureyev’s thoughts were swirling as he felt everything falling apart. He loved Juno deeply and fully, and he had desperately needed him to know it, but now their last few hours together were unravelling because he tried to say it. He berated himself for his impulsiveness, for jumping the gun and breaking the fragile truce he’d come to with Juno’s sense of self-worth.

He wanted to drop it and ask Juno to forget he had said anything, but the longer Nureyev said nothing, the surer Juno became in his conviction.

Tears brimmed Juno’s eyes when Nureyev met his gaze again for just a moment before he strengthened his glare.

“Admit it, Nureyev,” Juno demanded, crossing his arms over his middle.

Nureyev reached forward to grab Juno’s hand with both of his and held tight when the detective tried to pull it away again. “Juno, I promise—”

“Just admit it, Nureyev!” Juno all but growled, fighting the grip on his hand.

“You won’t even allow me a word in edgewise, Juno, even for that much!” Nureyev snapped, not quite yelling but close to it, and Juno’s mouth shut with an audible click.

Nureyev softened, pulling Juno closer and cradling his jaw gently in one hand while the other wrapped around his waist. He held tight when Juno made a half-hearted attempt at breaking free, and after a few moments Juno’s breath left him in whoosh.

When the detective relaxed almost completely against him, Nureyev felt hopeful that he could turn this evening around for both of them.

“You are so clever, so good, and absolutely gorgeous, Juno,” Nureyev said fondly. “You are also frustratingly committed to self-sabotage, love.”

Juno pulled a face, and he looked almost embarrassed. “What the—”

“No, I’m talking now, detective,” Nureyev said sternly, and Juno instantly closed his mouth again. “Do you truly believe I would do all of this for you as a… a pity fuck?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Nureyev,” Juno snapped. “Had a guy almost marry me, and it turned out he only stuck around as long as he did because he felt bad for me.”

Nureyev felt rage wash over him at that, wanting to know the name and last known location of Juno’s former fiance. Perhaps this was information he could get from Benten or Rita before he left, he thought briefly but dismissed it in favour of focusing on the conversation at hand.

“Juno, I would never do that to you,” he said instead, tone gentle and earnest. “This isn’t a pity fuck, I’m not using you, I’m— if you wanted to leave right now, I wouldn’t stop you. You could walk right out that door, and that would be the end of it. You’ll never hear from me again.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek and glanced around. For a heart-stopping moment, it looked like Juno would actually pull away and get changed. Nureyev was prepared to stand by his promise, but he felt gutted at the mere thought of having to.

Then Juno sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head to lean into Nureyev’s palm, and asked so quietly Nureyev almost couldn’t hear him over the music, “What the hell else is this, then?”

Nureyev lifted his other hand to cradle his face in both, lifting Juno’s gaze to his own again. “I’ve done all of this—the room, the clothes, the dinner—as well as given you my name, Juno, because,” Nureyev paused to take a deep breath, “I believe I’ve fallen in love with you as well.”

Juno sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, a tear falling as he quietly asked, “W-what?”

Nureyev wiped the tear away with this thumb with a gentle smile. “I love you, Juno. I thought that much was obvious since our first night, but I suppose you could benefit from hearing it being said.”

“B-but you— that— you barely know me,” he stammered, trying to look away but Nureyev held fast.

“You know even less about me, Juno,” Nureyev pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Yet you love me?”

“That’s different,” he said stubbornly, and Nureyev’s heart broke.

“How is it different, Juno?” he asked gently. “If you truly believe that, help me to understand it.”

Juno let out a gusty sigh and his eyes teared up even more. Seeing both eyes—one a deep blue and the other murky white—glassy with unshed tears had rage boiling in his gut all over again. He wanted to hurt every single person who taught someone as beautiful, and good, and caring as Juno to feel shame and guilt for being told he was loved.

And suddenly Nureyev understood why Juno couldn’t readily accept his confession; Juno saw himself as inherently unworthy of love and affection while giving himself completely to everyone, hoping they would finally see he had something to offer. That was where it made sense to Juno that he could fall in love with someone he barely knew, but those feelings could not be reciprocated.

“It’s just different,” Juno repeated firmly and with such finality that Nureyev knew he couldn’t push for a proper answer without damaging something between them beyond repair.

So Nureyev stepped closer to Juno instead, their bodies pressed flush together again. “Do you trust me, Juno?” he asked, stroking both of the detective’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“Yes,” Juno said without hesitation.

“Do you trust that I wouldn’t lie about something important?” he asked, and when Juno’s expression twisted, he added, “If we were having any other conversation right now, would you trust I was being honest with all of the important details?”

“Yeah,” Juno answered quietly, almost reluctantly.

“Then allow me to put things into perspective for you,” Nureyev said earnestly, meeting Juno’s gaze and holding it. “You are the first person to have learned my real name with my consent in twenty years.”

Juno took a shaky breath, and though his expression was still sceptical, it was also so soft. Nureyev could see that Juno wanted to believe everything, that he wanted to accept what he was offering, so Nureyev continued.

“Do you think a master thief would have risked courting you the way I had just for fun?” Nureyev asked, and did not wait for Juno to respond before he wrapped an arm around his waist. “I have given you the key to a past I’ve tried to bury, as well as the very thread that could unravel my entire career for the past twenty years.”

Juno looked up at him, his expression unreadable as he lifted a hand to cover Nureyev’s still cradling his cheek.

“Look me in the eye and tell me none of that means anything, Juno,” Nureyev offered, and shivered when Juno closed his eyes and turned his head just enough to press his lips to the middle of his palm. “I wouldn’t give any of that to just anyone, Juno.”

Juno was quiet for what felt like an eternity, his eyes closed and breathing softly against Nureyev’s palm. Eventually, the detective sighed and kissed him gently before turning to meet Nureyev’s gaze.

“You’re about to sign up for one hell of a time trying to convince me, Nureyev,” Juno said lightly, and though it was said as a joke, Nureyev could tell he was also completely serious.

Nureyev smiled broadly and stooped to kiss Juno, sweet and chaste.

“Then I gladly accept that challenge, starting tonight,” Nureyev said against Juno’s lips before kissing his way up his cheek, taking a small detour to press a light kiss just below Juno’s right eye. He finished his journey at the hinge of Juno’s jaw and whispered, “I love you, Juno Steel.”

Juno exhaled sharply and sobbed, angling his mouth up for the searching, needy kiss Nureyev had for him.

“I love you…” Juno whispered when they pulled apart for air, and very quietly, almost reluctantly, he added, “Too. I love you, too.”

The quiet concession, even if it was clear he didn’t quite believe it but was willing to try, made Nureyev’s heart pound and butterflies burst to life in his gut. Just hearing those three words again, this time when he was meant to hear them and he wasn’t knocking on Death’s door, brought tears to Nureyev’s eyes.

It was at that moment when Nureyev realized, or allowed himself to realize, that he hadn’t let himself get close enough to anyone since Mag to be loved. He kept himself unreachable and unknowable for twenty years, leaving Mag as the last person to have said they loved him and meant it.

Several moments of heart-stopping terror followed that revelation, and Nureyev wanted to run from it. He did the calculations instantly; he knew the flight schedule for every ship off of Mars by heart for the next week and a half, and with a good distraction, he could catch one within the hour. His fingers itched for his comms and he instinctively began to slip out of Juno’s arms, pretty words and a prettier lie already on the tip of his tongue.

Juno pulled him in tighter, however, clinging to him as he brought their lips together again, and Nureyev was shaken from his thoughts.

“Shit,” Juno all but sobbed against his lips, laughing wetly as tears fell down his cheeks. “I love you, Nureyev.”

Just like that, Nureyev dumped every contingency plan and escape route he had drawn up. There Juno was, giving him everything he had, and Nureyev was thinking of leaving him with nothing. Master thief though he may be, Nureyev was determined to not become one of the people to steal Juno’s heart. He would make a fair trade for it, give himself to Juno, and share the heartbreak of their parting.

Nureyev recognized the desire to run, to leave and never look back, but he knew that he would never be able to compartmentalize his love for Juno.

At Juno’s shivery whine, Nureyev hauled him up into his arms and groaned when Juno’s legs locked around his waist. With one arm around Juno’s waist, and his other hand holding his thigh, Nureyev stumbled in the direction of the bedroom. Juno’s hands were in his hair, messing his braid up and pulling on the freed strands, and Nureyev couldn’t help the soft, needy sounds he was making. Losing focus and rapidly losing his balance, Nureyev stopped just outside the bedroom, and pinned Juno against the wall next to the double-doors, licking deep into Juno’s mouth while he slid his hand up to grope at his ass.

When Juno turned his face away to catch his breath, Nureyev latched onto his throat, kissing, biting, and licking the length of it, paying extra attention to the underside of his jaw when Juno’s cries grew higher in pitch.

“N’reyev, the bed,” Juno whimpered and Nureyev moaned his agreement into the bruise he had just worried into Juno’s skin.

After a few more stumbling moments and close calls, Nureyev found the bed, which was tall enough that Juno was almost sitting on it already when he let him go. As he stepped back a couple paces, Juno looked up at him with eyes still glassy with unshed tears, but the softest smile Nureyev had ever seen on his face. Juno reached out to hold Nureyev’s hand, as if needing some sort of physical contact and Nureyev could understand.

Stroking the back of Juno’s hand with this thumb, Nureyev asked, “How do you want to spend the rest of our evening, my love?”

With a shiver, Juno shifted onto his knees to undo the belt of Nureyev’s robe and admired the view as it fell open. Nureyev shuddered a bit as the silky material slipped down his arms and pooled around his feet. Juno pressed in for another kiss, wrapping one arm around Nureyev’s shoulders and walking the other down his stomach teasingly.

“Think it’s pretty obvious what I want, Nureyev,” Juno replied cheekily as his fingers reached his lower abdomen.

“Use your words, dear,” Nureyev scolded lightly, grabbing Juno’s wrist gently. “Or you get nothing at all.”

Juno huffed, but it had no heat to it. Nureyev did not doubt that Juno was a bit frustrated—used to being tipped over and tumbled without ceremony as he was—but he also knew Juno thoroughly enjoyed being told what to do.

“Do I have to do this every time?” Juno asked with a pout.

“With me?” Nureyev replied with a chuckle, stooping to kiss Juno’s cheek. “Yes.”

Juno shivered and nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek before he pressed up against Nureyev, both arms around his shoulders as he untied the ribbon holding Nureyev’s braid together.

“I-I want you to fuck me into this mattress until the neighbours complain,” Juno whispered in a bit of a rush, and Nureyev’s breath hitched.

“The sound-proofing in this hotel is almost absolute, dear detective,” Nureyev responded huskily.

Juno laughed lightly before looking up at Nureyev coyly through his lashes. “I’m sure it is,” he said softly and deliberately.

Nureyev groaned and recaptured Juno’s lips, bringing both hands up to cradle the back of his head and keep him there while he kissed the breath from his lungs.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Nureyev all but growled between kisses and swallowed Juno’s excited laugh.

- - - - -

Nureyev worked to catch his breath, his arm slung around Juno’s waist so he could run his hand up and down his back soothingly. Occasionally, he would sweep his palm further to massage the muscled thigh thrown over his hip.

“Are you okay, love?” Nureyev asked around a yawn when Juno stretched with a bit of a pained sound.

“Yeah, I’m golden,” Juno said softly with a dreamy sigh, nuzzling his forehead against Nureyev’s chest before meeting his gaze with a blissed-out smile. “I’m perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear it, my love,” Nureyev hummed, stealing a chaste kiss from Juno before saying, “We should wash up before bed, though.”

Juno groaned and snuggled in closer, shaking his head with a little hmph. “Don’wanna,” he mumbled petulantly.

Nureyev laughed, just as disinterested in the prospect of getting up, but there were some general hygiene items they needed to take care of. “Come along, love, up we get,” Nureyev said, sitting up and giving Juno’s ass a sharp slap.

“Babe, if you want me out of this bed, you better knock that off,” Juno teased with a sexy sprawl, but the effect was lost when he yawned hugely.

“No offense, dear, but I don’t think either of us have the stamina to make good on any threats like that,” Nureyev laughed, and eventually dragged Juno out of the bed and into the ensuite.

The shower stall was ridiculous in its size, and set in the bathroom so one of it’s walls was just windows. The windows in the shower weren’t quite floor to ceiling, and had a tiled ledge that was about half a foot tall. There was also a safety bar that travelled along the window. The spray of the shower came from a fixture right above them, the water coming down like a perfect, warm rain. It reminded Nureyev of a rain storm he had found himself caught in the one time he had gone to earth, and Juno hummed thoughtfully when he told him as much.

Neither of them was particularly keen on turning on the lights, so they showered by the lights of the city coming through the window. Juno was looking down at Hyperion City, his city, with his hands resting on the safety bar while Nureyev lathered up a plush washcloth and began wiping his body down.

Standing flush behind Juno, Nureyev wrapped an arm around his shoulder and chest, holding him tenderly as he washed his stomach and lower. With a contented hum, he pressed a kiss to the hinge of Juno’s jaw and frowned when the detective sighed a touch too wistful for Nureyev’s comfort.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” he asked before mouthing at Juno’s throat.

“What if you could stay?” Juno asked, his tone flat but curious.

Nureyev hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you want me to answer that?”

“Yeah,” he replied after a thoughtful hum. “The honest one.”

“That would be the only one I would give you, dear detective. You’re too important and too smart for any of the others,” Nureyev sighed, and he couldn’t help the teasingly bitter tone out of his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Juno snorted, and Nureyev could hear the eye-roll. “You’re deflecting.”

“We would be happy for a bit, I think— No, I know we would be happy, at first that is. Then I would get bored,” he confessed in a sigh against Juno’s ear, and when he felt Juno tense in his arms, he added quickly, “Not of you, my love. Never of you. But I would go mad sitting still. Doing busywork.”

Juno chuckled, as if laughing at some private joke, but the humour didn’t quite reach it.

“Like a caged fox. Or something,” Juno supplied, and leaned his forehead against the glass.

“Exactly,” Nureyev replied quietly, a sad smile of his own twisting his mouth. “And if you could come with me?”

Though he couldn’t see Juno’s face completely, Nureyev could tell there were tears in his eyes with the way he bit his lower lip.

“I… I would be miserable without Benten and Rita,” he admitted, his voice watery. He lifted his hand to wipe a tear that fell away and Nureyev’s heart broke. “I don’t think I’d be happy without them at all, even in the beginning. I’m sorry—”

Nureyev turned Juno around and kissed him soundly, sighing when Juno opened for him readily. There was no way to measure who would hurt the most when it came time for Nureyev to leave, the one who could stay and would hate it, or the one who could leave but would suffer. But they didn’t have to think about that tonight.

Nureyev just wished they didn’t have to think about it at all.

“Don’t apologize, Juno,” Nureyev whispered when he pulled back to finish washing them up. “I understand.”

A short time later, they slipped back into the bed, still damp and naked from their shower. Nureyev propped himself over Juno, kissing him breathless with lazy and slow motions. With a contented noise, Juno kissed his way to the line of Nureyev’s jaw, lips pausing over the raised line of the new scar there. Nureyev shivered a bit when Juno pressed his fingers against his chest, gently feeling the jagged lines before sliding down to press his whole palm to the burn on his abdomen.

When he didn’t move his hand any further, Nureyev pulled back to look at Juno’s face.

Juno was thoughtful, looking down at the lines of his scars, stroking the burn gently with a furrowed brow. Nureyev reached up to brush his thumb across Juno’s cheekbone, below his blinded eye. The detective almost flinched away as if the touch burned before he settled and leaned into the touch.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Nureyev asked, dropping a soft kiss just below his eye.

Juno shivered under the gentle affection with a little sigh. “Are you going to get your scars reduced?” Juno asked after a bit, scrunching his face up adorably when Nureyev moved his lips to the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Why would I?” Nureyev asked, pulling back and meeting Juno’s gaze.

The detective shrugged, glancing away and chewing his cheek. “Your whole anonymity thing?” Juno offered in a quiet mumble. There was obviously more to that thought, but Nureyev wouldn’t pry.

“Going under for surgery is risky, so I typically avoid doing so outside of emergencies,” Nureyev replied with a small smile. “I’ll simply cover them as needed if I must.”

Juno hummed at that, nodding and moved his gaze away to look at the jagged lines that criss-crossed his throat.

“Besides,” Nureyev continued, lowering himself to lay his full weight against Juno, his legs straddling his thick thighs. He gave Juno’s eye another soft kiss, and said, “I find scars to be quite… sexy.”

“Of course, you do,” Juno said with a snort.

“I do,” Nureyev replied seriously, figuring Juno didn’t have to know how much he hated the scars at the moment, and coaxed Juno into a searching kiss.

Juno didn’t respond as readily as he had expected, so Nureyev pulled back and met his eyes again. The detective was still pensive and even a bit sceptical, which was far too serious for Nureyev’s liking.

“Juno, darling,” he prompted gently. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong, just thinking,” Juno said almost flippantly, but he seemed to realize he was dismissing and deflecting. With a sigh he said, “I don’t… believe you when you say the scars don’t bother you, but that’s not— You didn’t— I get it, if you didn’t like them. They’re ugly—”

“They’re not ugly,” Nureyev interrupted firmly, and Juno glared a bit up at him. “If we’re to have these sorts of talks, dear, we should keep this… negative self-talk to a minimum.”

Juno snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” Juno conceded and took a deep breath. “My ex wanted me to get mine fixed, or reduced, or whatever. He was really pushy about it, and wanted me to get a fake eye, too. Even just a basic glass one. Nothing fancy.”

“But you didn’t,” Nureyev encouraged.

“Well, obviously. I didn’t want to spend Pereyra’s hush money, and I just… didn’t want another surgery,” Juno said quietly. “I didn’t really get that it was such a big deal for him until he— until I ended things. Or, when he left.”

“Do you know why it was such a big issue with him?” Nureyev asked, even as he planned the very painful way he would dispatch the bastard. When Juno raised his eyebrow at him sceptically, it hit him instantly.

Juno had looked like Benten, until he lost his eye.

“It’s the past, and it should stay there,” Juno replied eventually, and hummed when Nureyev drew him into a gentle press of lips.

“I will be honest with you, Juno; I hate my scars, as they are right now,” Nureyev confessed when he pulled away, smiling weakly at Juno’s curious expression. “Perhaps once they’re less fresh, I will find them more tolerable, but I was considering covering them up before meeting with you tonight.”

“Why didn’t you?” Juno asked.

“Because of you, honestly,” Nureyev said, smiling openly at Juno. “I thought of you, and how beautiful I believe you to be, and your scars are part of that.”

“Jeez, Nureyev,” Juno huffed, glancing away bashfully and chewing the inside of his cheek. “You’re laying it on pretty thick.”

“All of it is the truth, my love,” Nureyev sighed with a grin. “I just can’t believe no one else had figured it out as well.”

“Well,” Juno started with a shrug, “I got you out of it, didn’t I?”

“I was avoiding celebrating decades of people being incredibly stupid and cruel to you, dear,” he chastised lightly, pulling a laugh from Juno.

“Go ahead and celebrate. I mean, I am,” Juno said, accepting another kiss with a quiet moan.

“Are you?” Nureyev asked teasingly, their lips still pressed tightly together.

“Little bit,” Juno sighed and Nureyev laughed, deepening the kiss.

Nureyev kept it up until Juno began faltering in returning the kisses, his eyes fluttering shut. The detective would shake himself awake every time his mouth fell slack under Nureyev’s, returning the kisses with renewed fervor and enthusiasm, hands finding their way into his hair to ground himself.

Eventually though, when Juno drifted off, Nureyev pulled away and let him sleep.

Nureyev laid next to Juno for a while, watching the love of his life sleep peacefully, partially lit up by the city beyond the windows. The next day, he knew he would have to leave, but he thanked every entity from every planet orbiting every star that must have answered whatever secret prayer he had whispered.

Juno Steel was such a gift he didn’t deserve, it had to have been divine intervention.

With a sigh and one last chaste kiss to Juno’s cheek, Nureyev lowered his head to his own pillow and quickly drifted off to sleep as well.

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#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #juno steel #jupeter #gerry writes #full fic #bittersweet

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