#iftext

[miss-ingno]

Commission: Flirting With Disaster

Fandom: ragehappy/fahc Ship: Trevredovin (Trevor/Alfredo/Gavin) Words: 2k Tags: hacker!Gavin, thief!Trevor, sniper!Alfredo, flirting, pre-fahc!Gavin

Summary: When the terror twins finally manage to chase down the elusive hacker, they offer him a way out. One that's beneficial to all three of them.

Commissioned by the lovely @ganglylimbs! <3 Thank you very much, this was fun to write!

Read here on Ao3.

The room was dark when Trevor dropped down from the vent. Blue and yellow lights blinked in one corner, and Trevor glanced swiftly over the setup. The monitors were in sleep mode, a quick flick of the mouse lighting up the screens. On one, CCTV cameras from the outside of the building showed up. On the other…

Trevor turned and swept the rooms, but no signs of the hacker. He tapped his earpiece as he returned to the computer bank, the only place of interest in the small apartment.

“Target not on site,” he murmured, moving the mouse to hover over the program.

“Dammit,” Alfredo’s voice crackled over the comms. “He’s not left the building as far as I can tell.”

Trevor hummed. “He’s left us a surprise,” he mentioned, clicking on the icon. A new window popped up- NOWYOUSEEME.

“Aww, he shouldn’t have,” Alfredo drawled on the other end. “It ain’t even our birthday!”

Trevor chuckled. A logo appeared, a golden V with pixelated sunglasses. Trevor tilted his head, moving the cursor around the screen, but nothing else happened. With a curious humm, Trevor clicked the logo. It burst into a thousand gold flecked pixels, and the screen changed to an old-school text window. MIDASOFT it said in big, capital letters, before those faded, leaving just the chat and a blinking cursor behind.

“I’m in,” Trevor said in his best impression of a hacker voice. He raised an eyebrow as green text appeared on the dark screen.

‘Welcome to my humble abode, Mr. Fake.’

“Oooh, baby girl, you’re turning me on,” Alfredo drawled into his ear after he read the message aloud. “Ask him what he’s wearing.”

‘Please, call me Treyco. I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now, after all,’ Trevor typed. The cursor blinked merrily while he waited for an answer, tension humming under his skin.

‘Is that so.’ The text stopped there. Trevor tilted his head.

“So?” Alfredo chimed up. Trevor rolled his eyes.

“You never ask me what I’m wearing,” he complained good-naturedly as he continued to type. ‘You’ve left quite the impression, I’m afraid. If you are, in fact, the one they call the Golden Boy.’

Phrased as a challenge to prove himself. Everything Trevor knew about the hacker pointed towards him taking pride in his work. The question was, would he take the bait?

‘Please, that’s an awfully complicated alias. Call me GB.’

“Aw, don’t be like that, babe,” Alfredo whined. A red dot blinked into existence, wandering down Trevor’s chest and lingering on his ass before it vanished. “You always look hot, but you know how much I love you in the catsuit.”

‘GB, then. Would you be so kind as to answer some questions?’

“Please,” Trevor huffed. “It’s a tactical stealth uniform.”

‘That depends.’

“Exactly. A catsuit.”

‘I just want to have a nice, little chat,’ Trevor typed back. ‘Why do you keep stringing me along, sweetheart?’

A pause. Then…

‘I don’t put out on the first date. Sorry, love.’

Trevor tapped a finger against the table, considering. Alfredo still hadn’t sighted anyone either on the roof or leaving the building. The hacker had to still be inside, hiding somewhere. But where? The stairwell, a different apartment?

‘Why don’t you come out and we go for a coffee? My treat.’

‘Considering I didn’t invite you up for coffee…’

A grin flashed over Trevor’s face.

‘Baby, I promise you won’t regret it.’

“Behind you,” Alfredo warned in his ear, just before he heard the click of a gun. Trevor straightened and turned.

“Really,” he drawled, even as he raised his hands, gesturing towards the other person, “that won’t be necessary.”

The hacker shrugged, keeping his golden gun pointed steadily at Trevor.

“A precaution,” the hacker said, quirking his lips into a smile. Trevor cocked his head. His accent sounded vaguely British, with something of a Southern drawl to it. Interesting. “You understand, don’t you?”

Trevor shrugged dropping his hands. “Of course.” He gestured at the hacker and the red laser dot appeared on his chest. The hacker flinched, lowering his gun. Trevor smirked. “Obviously, I’ve taken measures of my own.”

The hacker tilted his head, following the laserlight through the window to the roof of the building across the street. Then he turned back to Trevor and arched a brow.

“Just a friendly chat, innit?”

His voice was dry, but his eyes shone with challenge. Trevor grinned.

“You pulled a gun on me first,” he pointed out reasonably. The hacker grimaced, clicking the safety back on. Trevor’s grin grew into a smirk. “Much better. Let’s get to the point, shall we?” He leaned against the desk, crossing his ankles. “You’re the one who tipped off the cops.”

“Maaaybe,” the hacker answered, shifting nervously. Trevor hummed.

“But that’s not all you did, now is it?” Trevor pushed off the desk and circled around the hacker, making sure to stay out of Alfredo’s way. “In one day you single-handedly destroyed the Corpirate. And then-” He stopped directly behind the hacker, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. “-then you pinned everything on us.”

“Wouldn’t believe me if I said it was a gift, would you?” the hacker asked, craning his neck. He smelled nice, Trevor thought absently.

“Was it?” They both knew he’d acted in his own self interest first and foremost, but the positive side effects for the Fakes was undeniable.

“It gave you a boost in reputation and got rid of your major rival, didn’t it?” the hacker asked rhetorically. “I think that should count for something.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, baby girl?” Alfredo chimed in.

“Hmmm,” Trevor hummed, answering both of them. “Maybe.”

“Lemme talk to him, sugar bear.”

Trevor raised a hand, popping out his back-up comm. Then he brushed back golden strands, tipping the hacker’s head further, who froze under the unexpected touch. Trevor settled the comm gently over his ear, and the hacker’s hand rose to adjust it instinctively.

“Hey there, baby girl,” Alfredo purred, and Trevor felt the hacker startle under his hands.

“Why, hello there, love,” he said, sounding mildly bewildered. “Feeling left out?”

Alfredo hummed agreeably, and the hacker glanced over his shoulder at Trevor.

“So what now?”

“That depends entirely on you, darling.” He dropped his hands and lowered his voice suggestively. “It can be anything you want.”

The hacker’s eyes widened imperceptibly.

“So you’re not here to uh-” The hacker drew his finger across his throat. “Blagh.”

Trevor stared. Alfredo chuckled quietly in his ear.

“As a matter of fact, no, we’re not,” Trevor drawled. He sauntered around the hacker to face him. “In case the message got lost in all the recruitment efforts-” Trevor brushed imaginary dirt off the hacker’s chest, leaning in close. “We want you.”

“Hot,” Alfredo commented under his breath, the red dot disappearing. Trevor looked out of the window and winked, before stepping back. The hacker caught his sleeve, and Trevor stilled, returning his attention to the blond. Fingers wandered up his arm as the hacker regarded him coyly from under his lashes.

“Won’t your partner get jealous, Treyco?” he whispered, licking his lips. Trevor’s gaze dropped down to watch.

“By all means,” Alfredo drawled, his tone sending a shiver down Trevor’s spine. “Don’t mind lil ol’ me.”

Trevor quirked a small smile, wrapping an arm around the hacker’s waist and pulling him close.

“Not if you invite both of us in for… coffee,” he murmured, mouths brushing together. The hacker shivered in his arms, swaying closer.

“I lied,” he said quietly, free hand settling on Trevor’s hip. “I don’t even drink coffee.”

Trevor met him halfway, mouths brushing together tenderly. His lips were soft but cracked against Trevor’s own, insistent and curious as he pushed. Trevor felt his pants grow tight as heat shot down his spine, and he raked his fingers through golden hair, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss. Warmth spread through his limbs and Trevor gentled the kiss, reminding himself to take it slow.

It wouldn’t do to scare the hacker off now.

“Why are you stopping?” Alfredo complained when their hacker pulled back. “We were just getting to the good part!”

The hacker choked on a laugh, shooting a grin out the window.

“Why don’t you come inside,” he offered huskily, and Trevor noticed how Alfredo’s breathing hitched. His hand wrapped around Trevor’s waist, dipping low in the small of his back. “Wouldn’t want to get to the good part without you here.”

It could be a trick, Trevor acknowledged in the back of his mind, his arms tightening around the hacker. Alfredo’s gonna need a bit of time to come down from the roof and up to the apartment, and in the meantime, GB had a gun and Trevor lost his sniper. He’s not worried though because there’s a knife under his shirt, and the hacker is tracing the lines of it with his fingers, clearly aware that he’s armed as well.

“You know,” he murmured, hand dropping low to squeeze the hacker’s ass. “We wouldn’t need to chase you down if you just took the boss up on his offer to join us.”

“Now where’s the fun in that, love,” the hacker breathed, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Then join us for tonight, at least, pretty boy,” Alfredo suggested over the comms. There was a mechanical humm in the background, and then an electronic ding.

“I think that’s what I just asked of you,” the hacker quipped.

“Well, I’m here,” Alfredo shot back, and then the door rattled before popping open. Trevor grinned. Alfredo was getting faster with his lockpicks. He closed and locked the door behind him, a smirk growing over his face. The hacker turned in Trevor’s arms to watch him. “Heard there was a party going on without me?”

The hacker held out a hand, inviting Alfredo over. “Well, now that you’re here, love…”

“Come join us,” Trevor ordered at the same time, and Alfredo laughed but didn’t have to be told twice. He stepped up behind their hacker, sandwiching the blond between them. The hacker shifted, and Trevor kept a sharp eye on him, but he seemed comfortable enough.

“Well then, GB,” Alfredo murmured, ducking his head to nibble at the hacker’s neck. The hacker tilted his head with a sharp exhale, giving Alfredo space to work. “What’s on the menu for tonight, sugarpie?”

“Gavin,” the hacker blurted out, and they stilled, catching each other’s eyes. “If we’re going to… It’s Gavin.”

“Gavin,” Trevor repeated, lowering his voice seductively. “Why don’t we take this somewhere more comfortable, hm?”

“Yes,” the hacker- Gavin- agreed fervently, his grip tightening on Trevor as Alfredo trailed kisses along his shoulder. “Let’s.”

***

Alfredo woke to a rustling noise, the bed empty next to him. The sheets were still warm, though, and then Trevor rolled into the empty space, burrowing his nose against his chest. Alfredo scratched his nails lightly through Trevor’s hair, eyes flitting through the dark room. There, in the door left slightly ajar-

“Leaving so soon?” he asked quietly, but not at a whisper. Secrecy always woke Trevor from the deepest sleep.

Gavin paused and glanced back at him.

“Places to be, things to do,” he said lightly, voice tight. Alfredo shifted, staring at him intently.

“This is your flat, you know, baby girl,” he reminded him. “You can kick us out whenever.”

Gavin smiled, a small, shy thing. “It’s yours now, love.”

Translation: Gavin considered the apartment compromised since they knew about it. But not burned. Alfredo cocked his head and raised a brow.

“Then next time, how about you come here instead of leading us on a merry chase?” he suggested, waggling his brows. “As fun as that was, this is more fun, wouldn’t you say, sugar?”

Gavin hesitated. “I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Mhhhm,” Alfredo hummed skeptically. “Doubt you could. But just in case keep the card. Call us.”

Gavin subconsciously reached for his pocket, and a thrill of triumph rose in Alfredo’s chest. He’d already decided to take the card with him, even though he was sneaking out. Alfredo settled back down, wrapping an arm around Trevor.

“Stay safe, babe.”

Gavin watched then, gaze lingering on Trevor’s sleeping form.

“You too, love.”

And then he vanished into the darkness of the night. Alfredo closed his eyes and listened to the muffled steps. Close now. One day soon, Gavin will stay.

They just had to be patient.

Early access, Behind the Scenes, and more can be found on my patreon!

[miss-ingno]

Lover’s Embrace (A Patron Prompt)

Fandom: ragehappy Ship: Freewood (Ryan/Gavin) Words: 1.9k Tags: king au, fluff and angst, Prince!Gavin, guard!Ryan

Summary: Ryan sneaks into the prince's chambers at night. Gavin wishes the night would last forever, even though he knows it won't.

For @gavinwasrightaboutthecoins! Thank you for your support <3

Read here on Ao3.

There was a thumping noise in the wall, a muffled sound as if someone had thrown a pillow against it. Prince Gavin paused, his quill leaving an ugly ink blotch on the missive he’d been writing. Grimacing, he dabbed at it with a small, ink-stained cloth, before cleaning the quill and putting it away. The letter remained unfinished, left to dry.

“I’m retiring for the evening. Please make sure I’m not disturbed,” Gavin announced to his guards. One of them saluted, new to the rotation. The other one, a man called Michael, gave him a dry look.

“Uh huh. ‘Retiring’. Sure,” he drawled.

Gavin flushed a deep red, mouth opening with a retort on the tip of his tongue. A glance at the new guard, he closed his mouth. Normally he wouldn’t mind the banter, he trusted Michael. He didn’t know the new guard. Gavin cleared his throat, lifting his chin haughtily. “Indeed.”

Michael shook his head and chuckled. “Whatever you say, Your Highness.” The Have fun, idiot went unspoken.

Gavin held his breath, counting slowly to ten after the door closed behind his guards. Then he hurried over to the far-end of the room, pulling one of the heavy leather armchairs out of the way. A small hole opened in the wall, a panel being shifted to the side.

Ryan crawled into his chambers, and Gavin hurried forward to help him up.

“I’m sorry, I hope you didn’t have to wait long,” Gavin worried, brushing dust off Ryan’s sleeve. Ryan snorted, catching his hand and pulling it up to his lips.

“Nothing of the sort,” he assured the prince, lips grazing over his knuckles. “Forgive my impatience. I found myself missing your company.”

“You’ve just had the one day off, Ryan,” Gavin pointed out wryly. Ryan turned his hand over to kiss the inside of his wrist.

“It was still an entire day apart,” Ryan mused, nuzzling his palm. “An entire day spent without seeing that beautiful face, without being graced by your smile-”

“Alright, alright, enough already,” Gavin laughed. His cheeks and the back of his neck felt incredibly hot. Ryan gave him a cheeky grin.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t keep waxing poetic. It’s not like you have something better to occupy my mouth with,” he lamented. Gavin slapped at his chest.

“Oy, stop being a prick, you swot,” he ordered, grabbing Ryan by the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

Ryan cupped his face as their mouths met eagerly, moving smoothly against one another in a practiced dance. Gavin slid his hand up Ryan’s head, fingers burying in his hair as he pressed closer, gasping as teeth grazed over his lower lip. Ryan took the opportunity to push forward, his tongue caressing along Gavin’s, licking over his teeth, the inside of his mouth.

His thumb stroked gently along Gavin’s cheek, Ryan’s other hand trailing down his back, coming to rest in the small dip of his spine.

Gavin hummed into the kiss, twisting his fingers into (dark) blond locks. His other hand danced along Ryan’s collarbone, before travelling down his arm. He squeezed the muscles he found there, smiling contently into the kiss. Ryan broke away first, arching an inquiring brow at him.

“Wot? Can’t I admire how fit my lover is?”

A grin stretched over Ryan’s face.

“Let’s move this to your bed and I’ll show you exactly how ‘fit’ I am,” he suggested huskily. Gavin shivered in delight, leaning into him. For a long, glorious moment he basked in the wave of arousal crashing over him. But then he sighed.

“I’m too tired to do much of anything tonight,” Gavin apologized as he pulled back, searching Ryan’s eyes. “Will you still stay with me the night?”

He didn’t mention how risky that was. What might await Ryan if they were caught. They both were well aware.

“You’re worth the risk, any time and a hundredfold,” Ryan promised, brushing their lips together once more. “I will take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

Gavin held out a hand, and Ryan took it gently. He pulled him over to his bed, where Gavin shed his night robe, and Ryan dropped his trou, his shirt falling down to his knees. He’d simply haphazardly stuffed his sleeping shirt into his pants, pretending it was a daily garment to wear while he sneaked into the royal chambers. They laid down together in the expansive bed, surrounded by plush pillows and soft sheets. Gavin curled up on his side, laying his head on Ryan’s arm, his own wrapped around Ryan’s waist and pulling him closer.

For a moment, he let himself enjoy the quiet of the night in his lover’s embrace.

“How was your free day? Did you go anywhere exciting?” he finally asked, drawing figure eights on Ryan’s chest between the strings of his shirt with his free hand.

“I visited the stables, if that counts,” Ryan drawled. His breath ruffled through Gavin’s hair. “Borrowed one of the horses and rode to the outskirts. Went to see my mother and sister.”

“Yeah? How are they?” Gavin inquired lightly, glancing up to watch Ryan’s face. He gave Gavin a small smile.

“Well enough. They’ve been setting money aside for my sister’s dowry-”

Ryan kept talking but the words seemed to rush past Gavin’s ear, drowned out by the noisy river of thoughts cascading down in his head. He didn’t want to think about marriage or courtship and what it might bring.

Finally, Ryan stopped, seeming to notice his distraction.

“What’s on your mind?” he murmured, lips brushing over his cheek. Gavin sighed.

“Geoff keeps blathering on about marriage, about finding me a match,” he admitted, turning to press his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder. He didn’t want to see the same hopeless look in Ryan’s eyes whenever the topic came up. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You know it’s inevitable though,” Ryan pointed out, his voice inscrutable. “You can’t avoid it forever.”

“I know,” Gavin groaned. “But I don’t wanna marry some bird I could care less about. I want-”

You. Gavin swallowed the words before he could blurt them out.

“Geoff only wants the best for you,” Ryan said hesitantly. A long moment passed where he waited for a response, but Gavin just buried his face further. Finally, Ryan sighed. “I’m sure he’s trying to find you a suitable, nice bride.”

“Maybe I don't want nice,” Gavin muttered crossly.

“I’m sure if you tell Geoff that he’ll find you a not-so-nice bride,” Ryan returned dryly. His hand stroked over Gavin’s back, and Gavin closed his eyes and drank the contact in. “Geoff can’t remain Regent forever. You’ll be crowned soon.”

“I know,” Gavin whispered. “And I know he means well, and that I need heirs, but…”

“You don’t feel ready,” Ryan guessed. Gavin grimaced and nodded against his chest. Ryan rubbed small circles on his back, smoothed back his hair. “You’ll make a fine king, Gavin. You’ve had the best tutors, and the wisest advisors by your side. And most importantly, you’re smart. I have faith in you, dearest.”

“That- that’s not it,” Gavin protested, glancing up. At Ryan’s skeptical look, he amended, “Not all of it, at least. I-”

Gavin swallowed, the words stuck in his throat. He averted his gaze, afraid what Ryan might find there.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed under his breath. Ryan’s arms tightened around him.

“You won’t. I’ll still be part of your guard,” Ryan promised fervently. He ducked his head and buried his nose in Gavin’s hair. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Always.” Gavin bit his lip, leaning back and glancing up at him from under his lashes. “There’s not many things I lack in life, Geoff made sure of that.”

Ryan snorted. “You mean he spoils you rotten.”

“Ryaaaan.” Gavin pouted. “I was gonna say something really romantic, you knob.”

“Uh huh. Sure,” Ryan teased him, smirk playing around his lips.

“I was too,” Gavin huffed, crossing his arms. Ryan kissed the top of his head, fingers trailing down his neck.

“You are very romantic,” Ryan assured him. “I never doubted your adoration, your l-” He cleared his throat. Gavin glanced up curiously, watching the red flush spread over his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Your devotion.”

Something warm unfolded in Gavin’s chest, curling around his heart. He reached out, cupping Ryan’s face and tilting it until their eyes met.

“And I never doubted yours. Ryan…” He leaned in, their noses almost touching. “Swear you’re mine, Ryan. Please.”

“I’m yours,” Ryan swore immediately. “Always and forever.”

Gavin angled his head, and Ryan surged forwards, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss. Gavin’s fingers trailed up behind Ryan’s ear and twisted in the short hair, urging him closer. Ryan mouthed at Gavin’s jaw, at his cheek, before returning to his mouth. Gavin let himself be pinned to the bed, catching Ryan’s tongue between his lips and suckling on the tip.

They broke apart gasping for breath. Ryan’s eyes were nearly black and his face flushed brilliantly. Gavin carded his fingers through his hair idly, and Ryan closed his eyes, head dipping down to rest on Gavin’s shoulder as he exhaled shakily.

“You’re sure you’re not interested in making love tonight?” Ryan asked breathlessly, mouthing at his collarbone. Gavin shivered, but shook his head ruefully.

“‘Not interested’ isn’t quite the right phrase,” he teased, hand brushing over Ryan’s hair. He held him close for a moment longer, enjoying his lips and teeth working his skin, before he nudged him away. “Very interested, more like. Ryan, you don’t play fair, Ryan.”

Ryan rolled onto his side and eyed him keenly, propping his head up on his elbow. Gavin remained on his back, stretching out with a content sigh. He caught Ryan’s gaze as it wandered along his form and smirked playfully.

“So many things I could offer you,” Gavin lamented, arching his back. Ryan’s eyes tracked the motion, and Gavin’s smile turned satisfied.

“Riches, and power, and titles, and fame- yet all you want from me is my young, nubile body.”

“‘Nubile’? Really?” Ryan queried, deadpan. “I thought we were avoiding the topic of marriage.”

Gavin stuck out his tongue. “I meant hot, you mong. Mature. Inviting. Seductive. Sensuous.”

Ryan struggled to contain his laughter. “Did you swallow a dictionary?” he teased, draping his free arm over Gavin’s stomach.

“Maybe.” Gavin shrugged. “I was bored. Jack had me research old treaties.”

“The horror,” Ryan said, deadpan. Gavin hummed, closing his eyes and beckoning him closer. Ryan complied, lying down beside him. “So did you find those in a lexicon or were you reading smutty novels?”

“Ryan!” Gavin slapped his chest and blushed furiously. Ryan chuckled. “You bloody tease! I’ve changed my mind, I’ll have you transferred to the garrison come morning.”

Gavin was joking, but Ryan’s laughter died abruptly. Gavin turned his head, catching Ryan’s eyes.

“I will. You know I will,” Ryan stated seriously. A cold shiver ran down his spine. “If it makes things easier for you-”

“No,” Gavin interrupted him fiercely, desperately. “No, please, Ryan. Stay.”

Ryan eyed him quietly. “If that’s what you wish,” he conceded. Gavin swallowed hard.

“It is.” He grabbed Ryan’s hand, intertwined their fingers. “Whatever others say, I don’t care. Just please. Stay.”

“Alright,” Ryan agreed.

Somehow, Gavin didn’t believe him. He squeezed his hand and curled up around Ryan’s side, closing his eyes and trying to enjoy what time they had left.

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[miss-ingno]

Tightrope (A Patron Prompt)

Fandom: ragehappy Ship: Jeremwood (Jeremy/Ryan) Words: 2k Tags: pre-fahc, soulmate au, violence tw, background character death

Summary: Ryan has a soulmate. He knows because of the bruises that keep appearing on his skin, bruises that are not his own.

For @armadil-lo! Thank you for your support <3

Read here on Ao3.

Many people wonder why the Vagabond wears a skull mask.

As they walk through the tight hallways, Ryan can clearly see the thought on his employer’s face. It’s in the flicker of his eyes as he looks back at the mercenary he hired, in the micro-expressions on his face. Theatrics, he probably assumes, to scare his enemies. His employer tells himself that to remain unaffected, even as a shiver races down his spine. Ryan watches him and his fellow bodyguards closely. They’re tense. Keeping their distance. All for the better, he supposes.

The truth is rather simpler.

Ryan takes up position in the back-right corner of the room they enter, surveying the inside with a quick glance. The pair his employer is meeting are sitting with their backs turned towards the door, observing the spectacle in front of them with bored miens. The woman’s hair is pulled back in a high top-knot, the man’s dark locks frame his face in a tousled, rough-and-tumble look, emphasized by his five-o’clock shadow. There’s two guards, one to either side of the couch. The woman beckons his employer forward without turning to look.

The pair of them are rumoured to be soulmates.

Soulmates are something of a scientific oddity. Many have tried to explain the metaphorical connection between two or more people, to quantify and qualify what makes someone a soulmate and why. There’s a lot of theories, and Ryan has read quite a few of them. The one thing they can all agree on is the undeniable fact that soulmates exist, and that there’s an easy way to test for it. Because, you see, any mark, any colour, any bruise will show up on your soulmate’s skin. Paint fades quickest - bruises linger.

Ryan’s soulmate has a bad habit of getting black eyes.

As such, the mask is very literally that, a mask. A mercenary that seems to be perpetually beat up, bearing lingering, visible bruises - employers tend to underestimate such a person, and more importantly, underpay. Before long, Ryan had to find a solution, since his soulmate didn’t seem inclined to let up on the regular discoloration. Under the dark mask, aided with dark paint around the eyes, no one could see the bruises. With time it build into his mythos, the untouchable Vagabond, harbinger of death.

“Please, join us,” the woman says, voice a pleasant lilt. Like silk hiding the steel of a dagger. “The fight appears almost over.”

In front of the couch is a long panorama window, separating the owners of the establishment from the raving, noisy crowd gathered for the spectacle. Inside the ring three combatants face off against each other. One hulking, bulked up man hits a short one straight across the face, snapping his head around. The third man quickly darts in, kicking the short man in the stomach, forcing him to keel over. What follows is a brutal beating as the two taller men team up against the shorter combatant, lying curled up on the mat.

Ryan averts his eyes, sickened by the display.

“He tried to betray us,” the man on the couch speaks up, voice a weird mix of nasal and gravelly. “Tried to run and tattle.”

The bulked up man picks the short one up from the floor, holds him up over his head, before flinging him out of the ring. The crowd roars loud enough to cause the window to vibrate. The woman crosses her hands over her knee.

“Just a reminder,” she says lightly, and his employer flinches visibly. “We don’t suffer fools lightly here.”

His employer glances nervously at the window and swallows. “I can see that,” he replies tightly.

The woman cocks her head, like an eagle eyeing its prey. “Do you,” she says dryly. She waves to one of her guards. “Bring Dooley up here. I think introductions are in order.”

The guard salutes her, “Yes, Ma’am,” and leaves quickly.

She turns to glance at the guards his employer brought with him, her gaze catching on Ryan.

“Well, now,” she purrs, standing up swiftly. She glides around the couch, nails trailing over his employer’s shoulders. “I see you brought a new face.”

His employer’s eyes flick between him and the woman. He licks his lips nervously. “Call it insurance. To ensure negotiations stay fair.”

“Negotiations?” the man on the couch says silkily. “Why, I dare say we have quite different expectations of where this is going.”

The woman watches Ryan, a small, secretive grin curling around her mouth.

His employer stands up slowly, hand dropping to his gun. “What are you-”

A shot, and his employer crumbles to the ground. Her grin widens.

“Like I said,” she purrs, taking a step back and turning to address his fellow mercenaries. “I don’t suffer fools lightly.”

There’s a shout as his fellow guards go for their guns, but the man on the couch and his guard are quicker to point theirs at them. Ryan stays perfectly still. The woman watches him intently.

“The infamous Vagabond,” she murmurs, dropping her gun. “Why, I didn’t expect to have the pleasure all so soon. Please,” she adds facetiously in an aside to the others, “do stop being stupid and drop your weapons.”

The bodyguards glance between themselves before lowering their guns. As if on cue, the door opens. Two men drag the bloodied fighter in and throw him in the middle of the room, before leaving and shutting the door behind them. Ryan watches from the corner of his eyes. They’ll be guarding the hallway, he assumes.

The woman steps forward, digging her heel into the wrist of the fighter. He cries out in pain, hoarse and pitiful. His colourful costume is ripped in pieces, flimsy gold and purple cloth shredded during the beating. Only the orange and purple helmet on his head appears intact. Small wonders.

“Perhaps we could come to an arrangement,” the woman continues as if she wasn’t interrupted in the first place. “Loyalty is easily bought, these days. But skills of your calibre - now those are hard to find.”

She steps past the downed fighter, poking at his leg with the toe of her shoe. An angry ring of red forms on his skin where she dug her heel in.

“We have work for the likes of you, Vagabond,” she states, sneering down at the beaten up man in disgust. “If you are interested, that is.”

Ryan nods cautiously. He isn’t stupid - his odds here aren’t great. His employer’s dead, he’s no longer getting paid for this. He’s at the pair’s mercy now. Showing off a traitor is a powerplay, proving there’s consequences of going against the leaders. At the same time it doesn’t feel like a place he wants to work at. He just knows better than to make that opinion known while in the belly of the beast. A glance at his fellow mercenaries shows them properly cowed by the theatrics.

“You two,” the man on the couch speaks up. He flicks his cigarette carelessly, the ashes falling onto the cushions. “Downstairs. I want you in the ring in the next hour.” He smirks. “Loser gets to live.”

The goons tense, exchanging startled looks. But when the ring leaders’ guard beckons them they follow him out of the door. Like sheep off to the slaughter.

The man on the floor whimpers. The woman scoffs in disgust.

“I’m sure we have much to discuss, Vagabond.” She kicks the downed man in the guts, rolling him over forcefully. “But perhaps in a different setting. I’ll have someone take the trash out-”

“I can do that,” Ryan offers impulsively. The woman glances up, surprise the first emotion showing through the cracks of the carefully crafted facade. She eyes him uncertainly, glancing back at the man on the couch, before turning to him again. Ryan stays still, muscles loose and ready to fight. This is his chance to get out of here before they trap him in a contract. Finally, the woman nods sharply.

“Fine. Take out the trash first. We can go through the minutiae of the agreement after he’s dead.”

Ryan waits until she steps back from the body, before kneeling down and hefting him over his shoulder. The guy is surprisingly heavy, and Ryan grunts as he carries him out and down the hallway under watchful eyes. One of the guards littering the building points him towards the back entrance, and they come out in a little alley. Ryan looks left and right, but no one’s out here. He lifts his hand as if to wipe the sweat off his brow, before remembering the mask.

There’s a red mark on his wrist, between the sleeve of his jacket and his leather glove. It’s round, like a penny maybe, and for a wild second he wonders if his soulmate is adding burn marks to their repertoire.

He doesn’t have much time to contemplate it, though, because the moment he starts walking deeper into the alleys, the man over his shoulder starts struggling. An elbow hits Ryan hard in the temple, a knee digs into his side, and Ryan has to twist out from under the fighter and drop him to the floor. The man lands with a grunt, just laying in the dirt for a moment, dazed.

His hand lies palm up, and there on the side of his wrist, the red mark from the woman’s heel.

Ryan stares. Then he glances down at his own wrist. Back to the stranger’s. Back to his own.

There’s no way, he thinks wildly.

But there’s an easy way to prove that. The man stares up at him, eyes flickering across the alleyway, calculating. Ryan pulls off the glove on the unmarked hand and pushes a finger under his mask. Gathering some of the black paint from around his eyes is easy. He pulls his finger back and smears it next to the angry red mark.

A streak of black appears on the stranger’s wrist and starts slowly fading to dark grey almost immediately.

“Fuck me,” the man groans, letting his head drop back to the gravel. Ryan eyes him critically. Then his gaze flicks back to the building they just left.

“We need to keep going,” he mutters, kneeling down next to the man who flinches. Ryan holds out his hand. “Can you walk?”

“Dunno,” the guy mumbles. He reaches out, fingers tracing carefully over the red mark on Ryan’s wrist. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Ryan replies dryly. He wraps his arm around the man’s shoulder and pulls him up, holding him steady as he swayed. “Once we’re out of here, we need to have a talk about your abysmal habit of getting beat up.”

“Not really my choice,” his soulmate - his soulmate - grunts, leaning into Ryan’s side. He gingerly takes a step forward. “Could we start with names? That seems easier.”

“Sure,” Ryan chuckles. Together they make their way down the alley. With each step, his soulmate seems to regain confidence in his balance, leaning on him less. “I’m Ryan.”

“Jeremy,” the other introduces himself.

“Jeremy,” Ryan repeats slowly. He props his soulmate up against the wall, before peeking around the corner. All clear. “Let’s get you out of here and then you can tell me what the hell is up with that garish costume.”

“Hey!” Jeremy protests, but follows along gamely. “I happen to like purple!”

“Alright,” Ryan says agreeably. There’s an old car down the street they might be able to jack. “Doesn’t explain the orange though.”

“Okay, first of all, screw you,” Jeremy mutters, pointing a finger at him. “And second of all-”

By the end of the day, Ryan’s pretty sure his soulmate got hit in the head a couple times too often, but it’s eclipsed by the giddy feeling of knowing. Jeremy is funny and stubborn, and once he gets him out of the awful fighting costume, he doesn’t look half bad.

Maybe it’s not how it happens in the movies, but this is Ryan’s life. And Jeremy slots in perfectly.

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[miss-ingno]

In Somnis Sirena

Part 2 of the Concubus series

Fandom: ragehappy Ship: Turnwood (Meg/Ryan) Words: 3.5k Tags: modern AU, demon AU, demon!Meg, dream sex, blowjob, drowning tw

Summary: Ryan can't stop thinking of her. Dreaming of her. Meg. It's driving him crazy.

Read here on Ao3. Previous.

The meadow stretches before him, rich greens and blooming yellows and florescent reds dotted along the bank. The sky is the purest of blues, the sun warm on his face. Her dress trails behind her like a white banner, her laughter tinkling through the air.

He chases after her.

They tumble across the shore, water lapping at their feet. She looks beautiful spread out under him, her hair fanning out around her head, breathless with laughter. He trails kisses up her neck, along her jaw, nips at her ear.

‘I keep dreaming of you,’ he confesses, brushing a stray strand out of her face. She smiles.

‘Don’t stop,’ she says, her melodic voice enveloping him. A soft breeze ruffles her dress, wet and translucent from the lake. He dips down to mouth at her perky breast, cups the other with his hand. She gasps and arches her back. He brushes the fabric aside and takes her in his mouth, sucking on the supple flesh.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he breathes against her lips between kisses. Her mouth is warm and wet and perfect on his. ‘I want you. I want you so bad.’

‘Then take me,’ she replies huskily, cupping his cheek and wrapping her legs around his waist. His shaft presses against her warm folds, and for a thought he wonders what happened to his clothes.

‘I’m dreaming, aren’t I?’ he realizes. Meg laughs at him.

‘Does it matter?’ She cups his head and pulls him to her chest. Fingers gently card through his hair. ‘Don’t you want this?’

‘I do,’ he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her. He sinks into her easily, wet and warm and tight. She kisses the base of his throat, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. ‘I shouldn’t-’

‘Ryan,’ she breathes, like a prayer on the wind. He meets her thrust for thrust. ‘Ryan, Ryan, Ryan-’

‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ he admits with a shaky exhale, burying his face in her shoulder. ‘Can’t stop thinking of this.’

‘Then don’t,’ she moans, tightening around him.

He knows she just says that because that’s what he wants to hear, but the words zip through him like electricity. He groans, burying deep into that welcome wetness, spilling deep inside her.

‘It’s just a dream,’ he thinks, head lying on her chest, her fingers playing with his hair.

“Stop thinking,” she says, a note of annoyance in her sweet voice. She sits in his lap, pushing him down onto the sand. Ryan opens his mouth, but she presses a finger tenderly to his lips. ‘Psssh. Just enjoy.’

She’s glorious on top of him, framed by the setting sun. The breeze plays with her hair, blowing it into a soft halo around her beautiful face. Ryan groans, hips bucking up.

‘Meg,’ he gasps. She sinks down on him, palms flat on his chest as she moves up and down, breasts jiggling gently with the motion. ‘Meg, I-’

‘Shhh,’ she shushes him. The waves lap softly over their legs. ‘Stay with me. Just a little longer.’

Ryan opens his mouth. His tongue feels dry, and he licks his lips. He wants to remain with her, he does, but he can feel the strands of sleep pull away from him as wakefulness creeps into his brain. For a moment he holds on, wanting to linger until she rides him to completion at least, but-

He stared up at the ceiling and groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. He shifted and grimaced. His undies were wet, and he was half-hard again already. With a muffled curse, Ryan threw the blanket back and headed to the shower. He’d have to start a load of laundry if he wanted fresh sheets tonight. He stared groggily into the mirror, rubbing a palm over his face.

He’d dreamt of Meg every night since he met her.

A shower chased away the last cobwebs of sleep, but he couldn’t shake the thought. Every morning like clockwork he woke up hard and yearning. It was confusing, almost irritating even. Ryan had never fallen head over heels for someone, and even now he wasn’t sure where the attraction was coming from. Yes, Meg was a beautiful woman, but he didn’t know her well - ran into her a couple times in the hallway, on the staircase, but aside from that first time they hadn’t talked much.

They’d talked more in his dreams than in real life.

Normally, it took Ryan a while to warm up to new people, nevermind developing a crush. His past relationships had all been friendships first, before they became romantic in nature. He wasn’t even sure he was interested in Meg like that. His dreams were always, always sexual in nature.

In sleep, he was almost possessed, obsessed with Meg. It scared him.

He could clearly recall the curl of her lips, the long arch of her neck, the melodic harmony of her voice. The vibrant glow of her hair, the fullness of her breasts, the softness of her skin as her fingers brushed against his - all but imprinted in his memory. Yet the most personal thing he could remember about her was that Meg liked pizza, and even then he forgot what chain and why.

It wasn’t like him. Not at all.

Ryan kept mulling it over on the way to work. The bus was unbearably full this morning, elbows jostling him, the mass of bodies causing him to sweat. He was grateful to reach his stop and walk the last block to the agency. His job in the archives really boiled down to IT work and troubleshooting, but due to the supernatural nature of the files it never got boring.

He greeted Steffie with a nod as he passed the reception area. Immediately, one of the men waiting in line peeled off to intercept him. His slouched, harmless demeanour was belied by the horns curving over his head and the tail flicking behind him, hellblue flame burning at the tip.

“Hey Ryan!” the demon greeted him cheerfully.

“Geoff,” he returned evenly, biting down a smile. “Bit early for you to get called in.”

Geoff shrugged languidly.

“Kidnapping case,” he explained, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. “Been up all night. Thought my favourite human might expedite the boring paperwork process?”

“Flattery gets you nowhere,” Ryan felt like he had to insist, sighing as he unlocked the archive.

“I beg to differ,” Geoff chortled, following him in. Ryan shot him a dark look. Geoff held up his hands. “Pinky promise to have the paperwork filed by tonight.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “You always say that.”

“But Ryan,” Geoff pouted. Ryan dropped into his chair and booted up the computer, keeping a wary eye on the demon. “There’s this little girl, right? All cute and flowers and puppies and rainbows. Don’t you want to help her?”

Ryan chewed on his lip, watching the screen light up. He shouldn’t - Geoff was a manipulative bastard at best, and besides, there was a procedure to these things for a reason - but… He glanced up at Geoff who was lounging on his desk, eyes half-lidded to hide the unholy light glowing within. The demon consulted with the police about supernatural elements in crimes, and Ryan would even tentatively label him a friend from work. Geoff seemed to know everything there was to be known about other creatures and beings, and maybe more importantly, he shared that knowledge openly.

“A bargain,” Ryan offered slowly, and the demon perked up immediately, tail stilling mid-swing. “A favour for a favour.”

“Why, Ryan,” Geoff purred, leaning across the desk, staring into his eyes. “I didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff, you kinky motherfucker. Alright, let’s make a deal, you’ve got my attention.”

Ryan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Information for information,” he clarified. Geoff grimaced.

“Spoilsport.” He leaned back, watching Ryan intently. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s gotten into you, buddy?”

“Geoff…” Ryan trailed off, shaking his head. “You first. Who are you looking for?”

The demon cut him a sharp look, eyes flickering with blue flame for a second, before he shrugged.

“Fine by me. Meredith Kendall, a young woman living on 69 River Ave. She vanished forty-eight hours ago.”

“A fifty-nine year old woman is your cute kid?” Ryan snorted, typing along as he was speaking. Geoff didn’t bat an eye. “There’s three beings living on the same block that are filed here - a bunyip, a kelpie, and a selkie.”

Geoff hummed thoughtfully. “Print those out for me, would you.”

“Sure.” Ryan shrugged. The printer buzzed, and Ryan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely in front of his chest. Geoff kept staring at him, ignoring the papers.

“So. What’s got your panties in a twist?” Geoff asked, cocking his head. Ryan’s face felt hot, and he ducked his head, causing the demon to chuckle. “Oh ho ho! I didn’t mean that literally, but I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?”

“Shut up,” Ryan muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair. Then he sighed. “You know demons and beings and stuff, right?”

“Right,” Geoff agreed cheerfully, his tail waving almost pointedly over his shoulder.

“Right.” Ryan took a deep breath. “As such you would know about beings that are particularly… tempting… to humans. Right?”

“Right…” Geoff said more slowly, sitting up straighter. “Several of us employ some sort of lure. Why are you asking?”

“There’s this girl-” Geoff gave him an incredulous look, and Ryan flushed. “Not- not like that!” Geoff’s stare turned skeptical. “Okay, maybe a little like that… That’s not the point!” Ryan exclaimed, tugging on his hair. “It’s like- look I’m not normally like this, Geoff. Sure, I notice if someone’s pretty, but- not like this. Not to the exclusion of all else!”

Geoff hummed thoughtfully. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Ryan groaned, his head hitting the desk. “She’s always in my thoughts, and in my dreams, and I don’t even know what type of pizza she likes!” He made a frustrated sound. “It’s like my brain got stuck on her!”

“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” Geoff chortled, and Ryan rolled his eyes.

“I can’t just reboot my brain, Geoff,” he pointed out plaintively.

“You could try getting laid,” Geoff drawled in response, waggling his eyebrows. “See, it’s quite normal among humans who haven’t had sex in a while to start fantasizing about the hot people in their life. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I starred in a dream or two-”

“Geoff,” Ryan interrupted him desperately. “I know how this sounds, but I’m telling you, it doesn’t feel normal.”

“Alright, alright.” Geoff chuckled, leaning forward and patting his hand. “I see how serious this is.” Ryan shot him a skeptical glare, and Geoff cackled. “Okay, serious to you, maybe. And since you went to the trouble of trading favours…”

Geoff trailed off and stretched, hopping off his desk. Ryan watched him suspiciously as he grabbed the print-outs.

“If you’re looking for alluring women, I’d look into sirens, if I were you,” Geoff advised, nodding wisely. Ryan squinted at him.

“Sirens,” he asked dubiously. Geoff shrugged.

“Yeah. Good place as any to start.” He leveled Ryan with a steady look. “We do live close by a big body of water. Various nymphs and similar beings tend to flock to cities like ours.”

“Alright,” Ryan said slowly, frowning contemplatively. “I’ll take that under advice. Thanks, Geoff.”

“Anytime, buddy.” Geoff gave him a quick, sloppy two-fingered salute. Then he turned and sauntered out of the archive, tail swishing back and forth.

“You better have that paperwork filed by the end of the week!” Ryan called after him.

Geoff’s words whirred through his head all day. During his lunch break he googled sirens, but after the third forum post fantasizing about sexual encounters, he closed the tab, mortified.

And yet the thought hounded him on the way home, too. He stared at the Savannah River as the bus passed by, wondering.

By the time he got off the bus it was raining steadily. Ryan pulled his jacket over his head and ran for the drab, old apartment building. Even so, his pants and shirt got wet enough, he’d have to hang them up to dry for work tomorrow. With a sigh, he opened the door, keys jingling in his hand. He pushed past, about to let it drop shut-

“Hold the door!” a familiar voice squeaked, and Ryan turned to see Meg wave at him, running up the pavement.

She looked drenched to her toes. A thin, white tank top clung to her body, but it might as well not exist. It was wet to the point of transparency, and her boobs bounced with every step, drawing his eyes there. As she came closer, Ryan could make out the lace of her white bra underneath. Her knee-length leggings were thankfully black, but tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination. Ryan stared, his throat drying up as he held the door open. Her chest brushed against his as she slipped in past him.

“Thanks,” Meg panted, bending over her knees as she caught her breath. The lines of her panties were clearly visible against the tight fabric of her pants, the same pattern of lace as her bra. Ryan tore his gaze away when she straightened, pushing her wet hair out of her face. “Gosh, that rain shower came out of nowhere, huh?”

She grabbed her hair with both hands and started wringing it out like a towel.

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan agreed awkwardly. With the way she leaned forward, he got a clear look into her cleavage. He tried very hard to keep his eyes on her face. “You, uh. You jog?”

“Yeah, in the evenings. Helps me keep up my stamina,” she said and winked at him. Ryan flushed, desperately searching for a change of topic.

“You dyed your hair,” Ryan blurted out, then winced.

“Huh?” Meg pulled a strand over her shoulder and looked at it. “Oh! Yeah, I felt like going red.”

“It suits you,” Ryan mumbled shyly. The back of his neck felt hot and sweaty. “It’s very... you.”

“Thanks!” Meg grinned brightly up at him, before lowering her lashes coyly. “I’m glad you like it.”

His heart was beating in his throat. Ryan licked his lips and opened his mouth, intend on saying something-

“Sorry, I really need to go,” Meg spoke up, giving him an apologetic smile. She tugged on her white top where it clung to her chest. Ryan’s gaze flickered down, before he forced it back up. “Need to take a shower before I catch a cold.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ryan stepped to the side. He lifted his hands before dropping them awkwardly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Meg laughed, her face glowing. Ryan couldn’t look away if he wanted to. “Talk to you later, kay?”

“You know where I live,” Ryan joked weakly. At her questioning look, he added hastily, “You know. If you wanted to hang out. I’m free most evenings.”

“I’d love to!” Meg smiled brilliantly. “Definitely gonna take you up on that.” Then she glanced down at herself and grimaced. “Probably not today though.”

“Probably for the best,” Ryan agreed, swallowing. His throat felt dry. “See you later, then.”

“Later!” Meg gave him a jaunty wave, then jogged up the stairs. Ryan watched her leave, the sway of her hips, the bounce of her breasts-

He shook himself.

He really needed to get his shit together. Especially now that he invited her over. Shit. Had he really just…

Ryan slowly walked up the stairs and to his apartment, cursing himself.

***

The lights glint off the calm water. The distinct smell of chlorine clings to the air. Ryan stands at the edge of the pool and stares.

‘You gonna jump in or what?’ a feminine voice asks. Ryan glances to his left. There, clad only in a skimpy bikini and a translucent, colourful cloth wrapped around her hips, stands Meg. At first her hair is a dark purple. Then Ryan blinks, and it is as wet and red as it was when they met earlier.

She turns to him and smiles.

‘Wanna go for a swim?’

Her clothes fall off as she steps back and sinks into the pool. He traces her curves hungrily with his eyes, drawn to her cleavage as she settles on the edge, breasts and arms resting on the tiles. Ryan tears his gaze away, catches her eyes. She beckons him with a smirk.

‘Meg? What are you doing?’

‘The important question is what are you gonna do,’ she responds slyly. ‘And unless the answer’s me, I don’t wanna hear it.’

She giggles, holding out her hand. Water cascades down her shoulders, covers her breasts, hugs her curves. He takes her hand and is pulled into the pool.

The water rises around him, enveloping him. The world swims into a mix of dark greens and blues. Only Meg remains crystal clear, mouth curving into a smile, hair floating around her head. Belatedly, he realizes there should be a splash as his body hits the surface, and the sound resonates faintly in his head.

‘Are you a mermaid?’ The words burst out of his mouth without his permission. He swallows. ‘Or a nymph?’

‘Do you want me to be?’ she asks curiously. Scales brush against his legs, and he looks down. Where there should be legs, a fishtail skims through the water. With a flick the fins on the end sweep across his thigh, the tail coiling between his legs. Hands cup his head, pull him in to meet soft lips.

He loses himself in her, in the familiar motions and sensations, floating. Her nails scratch over his scalp, her hair tickles his shoulders and neck. Her skin is soft under his palms as he strokes down her sides, her hips. The scales don’t feel different until he realizes they should, hard and smooth and beautiful.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, her chest rubbing against his. He sinks into her silken heat, burying his face in her shoulder. One of her hands comes to rest on his head, the other caressing his back. He tightens his grip on her and thrusts, legs wrapped around her tail.

He wonders how this works. Fish aren’t mammals, but how do they have sex? For that matter, could a human sleep with a mermaid? How would that work? And shouldn’t he be drowning by now?

Don’t sirens lure sailors into the sea to drown them?

The water presses down on him, swallows them whole as they sink deeper and deeper into its depth. Tendrils of pressure drag him down as her mouth sucks on his neck, her hands wandering over his shoulders, his arms. Ryan’s eyes snap open and he struggles, trying to escape her grip.

She groans, shifts.

“Shhh. It’s okay, you’re fine,” Meg’s voice breaks through the roaring of the water. “You’re not drowning. This isn’t a nightmare. Shhh. I’ve got you.”

Ryan blinks and in the next moment he’s sitting at the bottom of a cliff. Water laps up over his knees, covers his thighs for a short moment before receding into the sea. The sun warms his skin, and he can breathe easy.

‘There you are,’ Meg murmurs, lifting her head from his lap. Wet hair clings to her cheeks, his thighs. ‘Better?’

Ryan takes a deep breath and brushes his fingers through her hair.

‘Yeah,’ he whispers hoarsely. She smiles.

‘Good,’ she murmurs, kissing his thigh. Her silken hair slides through his fingers. ‘Relax. Let me take care of you.’

Her lips brush over the head of his cock, and Ryan drops his head back against the cliff. Her mouth envelopes him, head bobbing up and down. He buries his fingers in her wet, red hair, urges her on. Her hands press against his thighs, spreading them for her. Her tail flicks through the ocean, waves cashing up to her waist.

Her hair drapes over his thigh, wet and cold compared to the warmth of her mouth.

She presses her tongue flat up against the underside of his cock. Her lips are red and swollen as they move up and down his shaft. She pulls off, tonguing at his slit before closing her lips around the head.

The waves crash against the rocks with a thunderous noise, threatening to overwhelm him as he reaches his climax. Only Meg’s hands on his heated skin keep him steady as he comes down. He blinks and realizes she’s cradling his head against her chest, fingers carding through his hair. They’re floating in the wide open expanse of the ocean. The waves calm down.

It feels warm. Safe. The rocking motions start lulling him to sleep, when her breath hits his ear.

“I don’t mean you any harm,” she whispers. Her arms tighten around him as he drifts off into the deep unconsciousness of the dreamless. “I just want this.”

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[miss-ingno]

Devil’s Deal

Fandom: Disney's Descendants Ship: Harlos (Harry Hook/Carlos de Vil), Jaylos (Jay/Carlos de Vil) Words: 5.3k Tags: pre-movies, Isle fic, manipulation, implied abuse

Disclaimer: I have not read the books. The story is based on the movie canon, with a handful of glib references to the events of the first three books thrown in. This is the extent of my knowledge of said events, so the chronology might not match up.

Summary: Carlos and Harry make a deal. Jay is totally not jealous when he finds out the two are dating. Nope.

Read here on Ao3.

Happy Birthday @davidelizabethbowiestrider! I hope you like your surprise gift :D

Jay noticed Carlos’ aversion to touch pretty early on.

It wasn’t rare on the Isle, where any form of bodily contact was seldom kind. So Jay registered the way Carlos flinched when somebody grabbed him unexpectedly, the way he tensed when he saw it coming, and filed it away as a weakness to explore. Made it a point to lean in close, the threat of contact bolstering his intimidation factor when he wanted something from him. Mind games that everyone on the Isle played. But he avoided touching him whenever he could, aware of Carlos’ sharp eyes tracking his every move.

He even fancied that Carlos had relaxed somewhat in his presence.

It didn’t explain the sight that greeted him that morning, though. Averse to touch as he was, Carlos never endured even the friendliest gesture for long, shrugging anyone off as soon as he could. Jay had tested those limits himself, and the longest he’d gotten away with it was a casual press of leg to leg for about a minute. The subtler, less threatening the touch, the longer Carlos would tolerate it.

Harry had his arm draped across Carlos’ hunched shoulders for the last five minutes now.

It bugged Jay. There didn’t seem any reason for Carlos to stay under Harry’s arm, tense as the pulled string of a bow. Harry wasn’t threatening him, on the contrary, he seemed to be ignoring the de Vil boy. He talked to some of his crew - Jonas, and what’s-her-name - seemingly content to just. Sit there and hold Carlos. And Carlos just kept still, like a deer caught in the headlights, and endured.

It didn’t make any sense.

Carlos caught his eyes across the street, held his gaze for a long moment. Finally, he started pulling away from Harry, turning his head to break eye contact with Jay. Harry, however, tightened his grip, holding him still. Pulled him closer even, and Jay hadn’t known Carlos could grow anymore tense, but he visibly did. Jay frowned.

“Well, well, I didn’t expect this from you, Jay,” Mal drawled, stepping up beside him. She settled against the wall he was holding up, crossing her arms. Then she followed his gaze and raised a brow. “Jealous?”

Jay tore his eyes away from Carlos. “What?”

“Don’t try and lie to me about your little crush.” Mal tilted her head and smirked. “Everyone knows about you’re thing for Freckles.”

“Me? Got a crush? On de Vil?” Jay huffed a laugh, waving her off. “Psssh. Nah.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Mal quirked a brow at him, before letting her gaze roam over the street. She didn’t sound like she believed him.

“Really, I could have anyone I wanted on the entire Isle, and you think I’d go for itty bitty Carlos?” Jay questioned incredulously. “Really?”

“Hmm,” Mal hummed, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. “You got a type, Jay.”

“What, bleached hair? Freckles?” Jay snorted. “What’s de Vil got that I’m supposedly into?”

“Bite,” Mal answered promptly, playfully snapping her teeth at him. She smirked. “You might be an incorrigible flirt, but you don’t actually care to put any effort into any of them, except to prove that you could.”

Jay rolled his shoulders, arching a brow at her. “So? I’m a catch, you gotta admit.”

“Hold your horses, stud,” Mal said, rolling her eyes. Amusement curled around the corners of her mouth. “I’m just saying, you like them feisty.”

“Feisty,” Jay repeated dubiously. He watched as Harry jostled Carlos, who grimaced before blanking his expression. “You sure about that, Mal?”

She just gave him a pointed look, then turned to eye Harry, who was fiddling with his father’s hook.

“So if you don’t care about those two fucking,” Mal drawled, jutting out her chin, “What are you watching them for?”

“Fu-” Jay sputtered, dropping his crossed arms and turning to face Mal, blinking confusedly. “Wait, what?”

“Fucking,” Mal repeated bluntly. When Jay blinked uncomprehendingly, she rolled her eyes. “Ugh. They have been ‘dating’-” Mal made air quotes with her fingers. “-or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Really?” Jay’s brow furrowed, and he glanced across the street, trying to see what she saw. “Who?” His eyes widened, and he whirled on Mal. “Harry and Carlos?”

“Uh, duh?” Mal eyed him with downright amusement. “You did know that, right?”

“No!” Jay protested loudly. The pirates across the street looked over, Harry in the middle of caressing Carlos’ cheek with that stupid fucking hook. Jay lowered his voice to a hiss, “What the fuck? Since when?”

“Since last week.” Mal shrugged carelessly, glancing at him from the the corner of her eyes before moving back to study Carlos and Harry in front of them. They watched as Carlos barely contained a flinch, eyes locked with Harry’s.

“How do you know?” Jay demanded, clenching his jaw. His fingers dug into his arms, nails biting crescent marks into his skin.

“Uma told me,” Mal explained, trying to sound nonchalant. Jay shot her a sharp look, filing her tension away for later. “You know how she and Harry are like-” Mal held up her hand and crossed her fingers. “-tight.”

Jay glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut. No need to piss Mal off when she had more information.

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” he asked incredulously. “Carlos isn’t-” like that. Like Jay. “He doesn’t-” like touch. Didn’t date at all. Carlos was the kind of guy who stayed distant, aloof- in the background. Watching and judging them in the safety of his mind. Harry on the other hand- “Harry’s such a creep.”

Mal cocked her head, eyeing him intently. Jay shifted on his feet, uncrossed and crossed his arms, uncomfortable under the heavy gaze.

“Why do you care?” Mal finally questioned, blunt as always.

“I don’t,” Jay bit back instantly, bristling. He straightened from his slouch. “It’s just- Harry’s up to something. I’d rather find out now than later.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Mal rolled her eyes. “That’s totally what this is all about.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Mal held up a hand, stopping him short.

“I mean, not that I don’t agree - Harry is a fucking manipulative bastard - but this isn’t like you. You don’t care about others’ plots if they don’t involve you.” She paused and raised a brow, mouth curving into a smirk. “Unless… You do have a crush, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Jay grumbled, face flushing with heat. “He’s less objectionable than others on this stupid island, that’s all.”

“He’s friends with Evie,” Mal pointed out causticly, her lip curling up at the mention of the other girl.

“So?” Jay challenged, pushing away from the wall. One last glance back at Carlos - the other pirates had left, leaving him alone with Harry. Something twisted deep in Jay’s gut. “You’re not still holding a grudge for something that happened a decade ago, are you?”

Mal huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Who do you think I am?” she snapped, breezing past him down the street. “Of course I’m holding a grudge.”

Jay snorted, shaking his head, but followed her. He didn’t look back.

***

Carlos stared off into the distance, eyes unfocused as he imagined the machine before his inner eye. He was missing at least two key components, but if he switched out the CPU and maybe upped the RAM, then he could exchange the teflon sheet for-

The hand on his shoulder jostled him, tearing him out of his thoughts. Carlos blinked, before leveling a deeply unimpressed look at Harry.

“You listening to me, darlin’?” Harry smiled widely, eyebrows raised and black-rimmed eyes wild. Carlos scrunched up his nose and suppressed a shiver. He knew Harry was laying it on thick to get a reaction out of him, and he would not give him that pleasure.

“No?” he responded dryly, swallowing down the more snarky comment. Not the right time.

“Aye? Is that so?” Harry inquired fake mildly, a warning note in his voice. Carlos rolled his eyes, but sidestepped the rhetorical question.

“Are you done here?” he asked instead, glancing over to Uma, who was watching them with ill-concealed bemusement. Harry’s expression tightened in anger. Carlos waited another beat, before deciding not to push it.

“I need to be home by six, and I wanted to talk to you first. Alone,” he added with a pointed look at Uma, who raised her hands in surrender and smirked.

“Don’t mind me, lovebirds,” she sing-songed, taking a step back.

Carlos tilted his head, wondering. It was rare to see Uma without Mal, the two had been practically attached at the hip for almost a year now. Where one went, the other usually wasn’t far, and Mal was the possessive type. She didn’t let Uma out of her sight for long. Whatever that thing between them was, nobody could deny they were close.

It was weird to see Uma on her own instead of dogging Mal’s every step.

“Why, you little-!”

Apparently, he said that out loud.

Uma’s face twisted until it resembled a thundercloud. Snarling, she lunged, sharp nails scraping across Carlos’ jacket like claws as he flinched back. But before he could duck under Harry’s arm and retreat further, Harry darted forwards and grabbed Uma’s wrist in a steel-tight vice.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted, the white of his eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun, his grin maniacal and hard. Uma bared her teeth, and Harry responded in kind. “Don’t forget yourself now, Uma. He’s mine.”

Uma tried to tug her arm out of his grasp, but Harry held her tightly. Carlos’ heart beat hard in his throat, and he wet his lips. He hadn’t meant to set her off. Uma and Harry locked eyes, a battle of wills between equally stubborn and proud people. Carlos stared at them wide-eyed, not daring to blink. Finally, Harry lifted his chin, grin stretching. Uma mirrored him, snarling angrily. Then she tugged on her arm again, and Harry let her go.

“Then you better teach him some manners,” she spat, cold eyes turning to Carlos. He froze, holding his breath. Uma narrowed her eyes. “Next time, he might not be this lucky.”

“As you wish, my fair lady,” Harry agreed idly, bowing mockingly. He took a step back and to the side, breaking Carlos’ line of sight, and, more importantly, Uma’s. Carlos let himself be pushed back, taking the protection it offered.

“We meet at noon,” Uma said. Carlos peeked over Harry’s shoulder curiously, and she glared at him. “Don’t bring the brat.”

“I’ll be there,” Harry promised, waving her off. Then he grabbed Carlos’ wrist, nails digging into the sensitive skin. “Let’s go,” Harry hissed.

Harry dragged him through several alleys before Carlos dug his heels in, shaking off his hand. His wrist hurt, red crescent marks where the nails dug in. Nothing permanent, Carlos assessed quickly, rotating his hand idly. Possibly a bruise. Easy enough to hide with long sleeves.

“Don’t embarrass me like that again,” Harry snarled, whirling around to face him. Carlos glanced up from inspecting his wrist.

“Since when is Mal persona non grata for Uma?” he asked curiously, ignoring the statement.

Harry eyed him suspiciously for a long moment. Then he relaxed, grin slowly returning to his face.

“Since two days ago. Haven’t you heard about the shrimp incident?” Carlos shook his head mutely. Harry’s grin dimmed. “Don’t ask her about that either.”

Carlos held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t have a death wish,” he protested. And he wouldn’t ask Harry for more information. It was clear he wouldn’t get anything else from him.

“No, just stupid,” Harry said, smirking. Carlos rolled his eyes, paying that statement just as much attention as it deserved. Harry wouldn’t have come to him if he really thought that, and they both knew it.

“When can you smuggle me back onto the ship next?” he inquired instead, changing the topic. “I’ve got most of what I need, so I can start working on it any day now.”

Satisfaction crawled across Harry’s face, creasing the skin around his eyes.

“Not while my dad is home,” he insisted in a bored tone, lounging against the wall. He threw the silver hook up in the air, catching it idly. “Unless you want to swim with the sharks?”

“Can’t very well do repairs while underwater,” Carlos shot back, crossing his arms. Unlike most kids on the isle, he actually knew how to swim - but there was no need to let Harry know why his threats weren’t working. “Besides, if you don’t uphold your end of the deal, neither will I.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, and he grit his teeth.

“I got my hands on the first part, you’ll get it after the first repairs are done.” Harry caught the hook and stepped closer. He pushed the hook under Carlos’ chin, forcing it up. “You better hold up your end, too. There’s nowhere on this isle for you to hide if you fail me.”

“As long as you protect me until the end of our deal, I have no reason to. So really, it’s up to you,” Carlos pointed out reasonably, raising his chin an inch further. Then he grimaced. “Though I don’t get why you insist on pretending to date.”

Harry dropped the hook and snorted.

“I told you, I don’t want anyone to know about this.” He gestured between them. Carlos quirked an eyebrow. Harry leered. “Nobody would believe I suddenly decided to hang out with you. If you weren’t so pathetic, you wouldn’t need my protection.”

Carlos grit his teeth.

“And if you actually had anything valuable to offer in trade,” he shot back, and Harry snarled. Carlos smirked mirthlessly. “I’m not the one who came to you,” he stated pointedly.

Harry turned his back on him, started pacing up and down the alley. Carlos crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. Finally Harry stalked back towards him, sneer firmly in place.

“Day after tomorrow, at noon,” he declared, and Carlos nodded.

“The usual place?” he asked, pushing off the wall. Harry stopped short of him, staring down like he was a particularly bewildering puzzle. Carlos met and held his gaze wordlessly. After a long moment, Harry nodded curtly.

“Noon, sharp,” he repeated, eyes drilling into his. Carlos shrugged and shouldered past him. The uncomfortable weight of Harry’s attention followed him until he cut behind a stall and vanished from view.

A glance at his wristwatch had him cursing. At a quarter to six, he would have to hurry home to make it into his room before Mother returned. He started to run.

***

Things went surprisingly well. Despite his posturing, Harry took his duty of protecting Carlos seriously for the next two weeks. They flew under Captain Hook’s radar, and the few curious eyes who watched them - well, Harry took care of that. They probably assumed they were fucking in there, Carlos thought and wrinkled his nose.

He didn’t know why the old grandfather clock was that important.

He didn’t ask either.

Probably wouldn’t even if he thought Harry would give him a serious answer. Asking questions meant being asked in return, and Carlos valued his privacy above all else. And besides - there was no way he’d get away with trading components and protection if Harry knew what those parts were actually worth and what they were for. Or worse- he might want in.

“You alright there?”

The sudden voice startled Carlos out of his thoughts. His head whipped around, his neck muscles straining, and he had to stifle a wince where it pulled at the bruise across his back. He hadn’t made it home in time after the last repairs to the clock yesterday and had to sneak in through the window. Except Jasper had caught him as he’d climbed up the trellis and told Mother. She had been… very displeased, to say the least.

“Carlos?”

Jay watched him with a raised brow, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His brown eyes were sharp, and Carlos cursed himself. Surely he noticed the grimace, if not the wince. Heat crept up the back of his neck as he stared at Jay, mortified at being caught… wait. What was Jay doing here?

A quick glance around revealed them to be alone, and the heat spread up to his ears.

“What do you want?”

Carlos cringed. That sounded both too aggressive and too snappish to his own ears. Usually he wouldn’t worry but… this was Jay.

“Easy there.” Jay held up his hands and laughed awkwardly. “I just wanted to talk to you for a sec. If you have a moment?”

Why was he so stupidly eloquent, too? It wasn’t fair. He already got tall, dark and handsome down in a way that followed Carlos into dreams he never dared lingering on. And his voice… Fuck, it was so stupid, but hearing Jay always made his heart beat faster. Hearing his name in that voice-

“No, I’m too busy just standing here and doing nothing,” Carlos snarked, stomach dropping out as he realized that they were alone. Shit. He took a deep breath and exhaled softly. “What do you want, Jay?”

Jay dropped his hands, expression turning serious.

“I really just wanted to check in with you for a moment.” The corner of his mouth quirked up into what could almost be considered a grin. “You’ve been, uh. ‘Hanging out’ with Harry a lot. Rumour is- well. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright?”

“Oh.”

Carlos stared at Jay stupidly, mouth hanging open. That… that was unexpected. He didn’t realize that Jay worried about him. His stomach churned with butterflies, and he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“That.”

And- shit, Jay thought he was dating Harry. Harry of all people. He knew Jay didn’t get along with the pirates on his best days, but- If he denied it, Harry would have his hide. He’d been very insistent about using dating as an excuse to cover their activities, and he would not appreciate Carlos giving out vital information to someone he saw as an enemy. Jay was tricky, too, he might put the pieces together where Carlos carefully hadn’t tried to.

“It’s, uh. It’s fine?”

Jay eyed him skeptically. Carlos frantically tried to think of something to say to convince him, but his mind was drawing a blank. Instead, he couldn’t let go of the fact that Jay was concerned. For him. He swallowed. Concerned enough to corner him, away from Harry who might object, or might stop him from speaking his mind, and if he actually was forced to date someone against his will-

Jay wasn’t a knight in shining armour, Carlos knew that. Rationally. Not that he needed someone to rescue him anyway.

“No, really. I’m fine,” Carlos insisted. He put on a smile and hoped that’d be enough. He quickly changed the topic. “Thanks for asking though. I appreciate it. Really. No one else-”

He stopped, smile dropping. Jay’s brow furrowed, his lips curling. Shit. Carlos hadn’t meant to say that.

“Nobody asked about you and Harry?” Jay straightened, pushing off the wall. The muscles in his arm bulged. “Not your mom? Not even Evie?”

“Evie’s been… busy.” An understatement, with what she and Mal had been getting into. Carlos was doing his damndest to stay away from all that. He steadfastly ignored the question about his mother - ha. “I’m not sure she’s actually, uh… aware.”

“She doesn’t know,” Jay asked dubiously. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been dating Harry for what, three, four weeks now? And she doesn’t know?” Jay shook his head in disbelief. “I thought you two were friends?”

“Nobody has friends on the Isle,” Carlos shot back, starting to feel annoyed. What was up with the interrogation, anyway? His brain finally kicked into gear, and Carlos started thinking past his crush. Jay couldn’t possibly actually care. What was his goal? Was he fishing for information on Harry? On Evie? What was he trying to gain? Carlos tensed at the thought.

Jay raised his hands again and took a step back.

“Fair enough,” he said agreeably. Carlos crossed his arms.

“And it’s none of your business,” he added sternly. Jay opened his mouth, and Carlos was genuinely curious as to what he’d have to say to that- But then his mouth snapped shut, and he glanced over Carlos shoulder, jaw working. He dropped his hands, and Carlos took the moment to look back over his shoulder.

Harry was swaggering towards them, lips twisted into a dark scowl.

When he turned back, Jay’s straightened from his harmless slouch, body language closing off. For a long, bittersweet moment Carlos wondered if his care might have been genuine after all… Then he shut down the thought, promising himself not to indulge in daydreaming.

“Hello darlin’,” Harry greeted him, dropping his arm around his shoulders. Carlos forced himself to remain loose, to not give away how much he hated this part of their deal. He didn’t want to give Harry more ammunition, who enjoyed making him uncomfortable way too much, for one. And on the other hand, Jay would notice right away.

“Hi,” he replied dryly, eyes not leaving Jay’s, who glanced suspiciously between him and Harry.

“This guy’s not been botherin’ you too much, has he, darlin’?” Harry asked sweetly, threateningly. Carlos cocked his head, not looking at Harry.

“No,” he said slowly, deliberately. “He hasn’t.” He swallowed the knot down his throat and added, “Not yet.”

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, fingers caressing over Carlos’ cheek and forcing him to look at Harry. Carlos kept his face blank, trying not to let any of his inner turmoil show. “That so, darlin’?”

“Yes,” he said flatly. Harry searched his face for a long moment before letting go and stepping forward, between Carlos and Jay.

“Anything else, little thief?” Harry asked mockingly. Jay arched a brow at him.

“What’s it to you, shark boy?” he shot back, and Carlos had to stifle a snort. He hadn’t heard that nickname before.

“Oh? Didn’t you know?” Harry sneered, stepping back and wrapping his arm around Carlos’ waist. Carlos grunted as he was pulled closer. “Me and Carlos-dearie, we’re… well.” Harry’s grin grew wider. “Let’s just say, I got there first.”

Carlos blinked rapidly, feeling slightly confused. He hadn’t realized it was a competition. That he was a prize to be fought over- Jay watched them grimly, and Carlos felt his stomach sink. Then the anger welled up, turning his skin hot red. Oh, Harry was gonna pay for that comment later. He was as good as done with the repairs, just needed to adjust one small thing really, but he was gonna leave him hanging-

“Isn’t he just the cutest?” Harry drawled, and Carlos elbowed him in the side. “Aww, don’t be like that, darlin’.”

There was a note of warning in his voice that Carlos promptly ignored. Jay’s sharp gaze turned to his, and there was a question in his eyes that made Carlos’ heart skip a beat. He nodded once, just a subtle dip of his chin, and Jay relaxed immediately. He slouched, pushing his hands into his pockets, and shot Harry a droll look.

“I doubt your boyfriend appreciates your talk,” he drawled, turning on his heels and sauntering away. But before he left, he tossed one more comment over his shoulder, “He’s not a piece of meat, after all.”

Silence descended on them as Jay left. His parting words whirred through Carlos’ head, distracting him even from the uncomfortable pressure around his waist. It was rather well known that Jay chased skirts for thrills. He wasn’t shy about bragging about it either, even if he never shared any details.

He was jarred out of his thoughts as his back suddenly hit the wall, teeth clicking together. Harry scowled down at him, hand pinning his shoulder.

“What did he want,” he snarled, close to frothing. Carlos slowly raised a pointed eyebrow.

“That’s really none of your business, either.”

A fist hit the stone above his head, and Carlos couldn’t contain his flinch in time. Harry eyed him darkly for a long moment, then bared his teeth.

“Fine. Be like that, fur boy.” His grin widened, a wild look in his eyes. “But you know he just wants into your pants because he thinks I beat him there, don’t you?”

“Who says I want him there?” Carlos bit back, a terrible feeling crawling up his spine. He pushed Harry away, stepping after him. “For that matter, you better keep any comments about such matters to yourself, or I will make very sure everyone knows the truth.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Harry barked, face twisted into a dark scowl.

“Try me, Hook,” Carlos challenged him. Harry’s jaw worked, but he didn’t say anything. Carlos raised his chin, lifting his backpack from the grass. “Thought so. You brag about bagging me, and everyone will know everything about our trade.” He hitched his bag over his shoulder, staring Harry dead in the eye. “Now walk me home, like a good boyfriend.”

“Fine,” Harry grit out, sloping his arm over Carlos’ shoulders almost as if in retaliation. “You better be done soon, though, or else-”

“Just get me back on the ship,” Carlos shot back. “It’s just a matter of time at this point. You figure it out.”

They walked in silence. The spark of triumph even made the arm around his neck bearable. He’d won that exchange, and they both knew it. Carlos bit down his grin.

***

It took another two weeks for the annoyance to outweigh the gains, and Carlos finally told Harry the repairs were done. They parted more or less amicably at the end of the deal, both convinced they got the better part of the trade. Carlos was fine with letting Harry believe he pulled one over him - no sense in letting him in on what a total rip-off it was.

He strolled down the street on his way home - alone for the first time in over a month, but he wasn’t worried. Word still had to spread about their ‘break-up’, and even then he gave it at least a week before people tried to start anything. They’d wait first to see how things played out between Harry and him. If Harry was still feeling… possessive. If they got back together.

As he strolled down the street, he spied a familiar face. Jay was napping fruits from one of the vendors as he sauntered by. An apple slipped into a pouch here, a banana vanishing into his coat. The sight of him reminded Carlos sharply that Jay was the only person to inquire about his well-being during the entire trade. Carlos bit his lip, then turned and followed Jay down the alley.

He kept his distance while Jay stole a trinket here, some jewelry there. He didn’t give any indication of noticing his tail. Then Jay took a sharp turn into a dead-end, and Carlos ducked in behind him.

His back hit the wall with a thud and an arm pressed against his throat the moment he turned the corner.

“Why are you follo-” Brown eyes blinked, startled, and then widened. “Carlos?”

“Hey.” Carlos swallowed, and the pressure on his throat abruptly vanished.

“Were you following me?” Jay sounded less harsh now, more confused.

“Uh, yeah,” Carlos admitted, rubbing at his arm. Oh shit, this was a stupid idea. Why was he doing this again? “I, uh. Wanted to talk to you.”

Jay’s frown took on a distinctively worried slant.

“Is everything okay? Is this about Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Carlos hurried to assure him, mouth tipping into a smile. “And, uh. About Harry…”

“Yes?” Jay’s eyes sharpened. Carlos grin turned sheepish, and he shrugged.

“We, uh. Broke up. So, you know,” he rambled, fixating on a point above Jay’s shoulder. Why he felt the need to tell Jay was beyond him, but Jay’s reactions set his stomach fluttering. “Youcanstopworrying.”

Jay watched him impassively for a long moment. Carlos fidgeted with his sleeves, pulling them over his fingers.

“Is that why you’re running around on your own?” Jay finally asked, face a blank mask. Carlos bristled.

“I can take care of myself,” he spat, and Jay laughed, the asshole.

“Not what I meant-” He chuckled, taking a step back and raising his hands. Then he waggled his eyebrows. “But good to know.”

Carlos squinted at him, but Jay seemed sincere, if far too amused for Carlos’ tastes. Jay watched him back with glittering eyes.

“So Harry’s not gonna object if I offer to walk you home, then?” he finally asked, mouth curving upwards. Carlos arched a delicate brow.

“That depends,” he shot back.

“Oh, yeah?” Jay shifted, flexing the muscles on his arms. Carlos let his gaze drop to trace the movement. Jay smirked. “On what?”

“On whether or not you offer, for one,” Carlos drawled, gaze slowly crawling up Jay’s chest before meeting his eyes steadily. His answer startled another laugh out of Jay, his warm, brown eyes dancing with amusement.

“And if I offer?” he asked lowly, and his voice rolled down Carlos spine like honey. He had to suppress a shiver.

“Then it’s up to me to take you up on it, isn’t it?” Carlos quirked an eyebrow, grinning up at Jay. “Shall we?”

Jay snorted, but offered him his arm, as if he were a real gentleman. Carlos shot him a quizzical look, but hooked his elbow through Jay’s. They walked down the street in silence, drawing quite a few curious eyes.

“I can walk you home from school for the next week or so,” Jay offered quietly. Carlos had to strain his ears to actually hear his murmur. “Just until the thing with Harry blows over.”

Carlos bit his lip. “I’m not worried.”

Jay eyed him from the corner of his eyes. “Offer stands.”

“Thanks.” Carlos ducked his head, trying to hide his blush. He had to be blushing, with how hot his cheeks felt. “I might take you up on that.”

Not because he was worried Harry might come after him, for any sort of slight or revenge. He had too much leverage on the other boy for now. But Jay nodded, satisfied by his answer, and Carlos felt too hot in his skin, anchored only by the point of contact where they hooked arms. That touch alone was worth it. Not crawling creepily like Harry’s fingers brushing over his skin, not the heavy, suffocating weight of Harry’s arm around his neck. No, it was light and solid and warm. Nice, where touch rarely was, and Carlos soaked in every second of it.

To relive this moment every day for a week? Hell yes was he gonna take Jay up on his offer.

To his utter dismay his stomach grumbled as they turned onto the street leading towards his house. Jay laughed, unlocking their arms and stepping away from him. Disappointment sank like a heavy weight in his stomach.

“Here, catch,” Jay called out, and Carlos raised his hands instinctively, fingers closing around a hard, red… orb? He glanced down at the apple, blinking slowly. “Go on, it’s yours.”

He’d seen Jay steal the fruit earlier, Carlos realized. He must have been saving it for later, or wanted it himself. Carlos couldn’t just- He glanced up to see Jay watching him, positively vibrating with anticipation. Carlos bit into the apple, closing his eyes and savouring the sweet juice. When he opened them again, Jay was grinning smugly down at him.

“Good?”

“Yeah.” Carlos licked his lips. Was he imagining things, or did Jay’s gaze drop to his mouth right then? “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Jay shrugged and took a step back. Carlos glanced up - they were nearly at Hell Hall. “Seriously, anytime. Offer stands.”

Carlos glanced down at the apple, up at his house, and then back at Jay, a hopeful, expectant look in his eyes. He took another bite to buy himself time, chewed and swallowed.

“Sure,” he agreed flippantly, and Jay’s face brightened. It set butterflies fluttering through his stomach. “Why not.”

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So You Wanna Be A Beta

First Steps in Beta-Reading

A lot of people think of beta-reading as either a simple spellcheck or this mystic power they could never achieve. If you’ve wanted to try out beta-reading or wanted to help out a friend but didn’t know where to start, here’s a list of things to consider and hopefully boost your confidence in your beta skills!

Correcting typos and spelling. Keep an eye out for homophones (e.g. they’re/their/there) and other common mistakes.

Grammar. If you’re unsure if the sentence you’re stuck on is correct, don’t be afraid to give the rules a quick google.

Talk To Your Author. Different people expect different things - it’s good to be on the same page. Keep any special requests in mind; an author might worry about characterization, pacing, the start or end of a story, etc. These should take priority in your feedback.

Positive Reinforcement. Let your author know what works, if there’s a part that made you laugh or cry, or if you like a specially witty phrasing. Encouragement makes a writer thrive.

Don’t worry about coming up with a solution. While suggestions on how to fix a problem are nice, the most important thing is telling the author that a part tripped you up, and if possible why.

Stream of Conscience Commentary - ask your author if they’d like this. Some don’t, but most authors I’ve worked with appreciated it. Just give a running commentary of what comes to mind as you read. This gives the author feedback on what emotions and images they evoke, and might give them hints on what works and what doesn’t even if you aren’t aware of it.

Don’t worry about being annoying. More is better than less since it gives the author more to work with - and if it’s bothering the author they can let you know and you can work out together what to leave out. If you’re still worried, ask your author about it.

Similarly, don’t be upset if an author chooses to ignore a suggestion. You’re doing a good job! It’s up to the author to decide how to edit their own story. Whether they stick with their phrasing, use yours or go with a third option, you’ve already done your job by informing the author that there’s a choice to be made.

In the same vein, your style is not the author’s style. You can remark on stylistic choices and make suggestions on how else to achieve a similar effect. It helps if you can articulate why you would change that specific thing to another. But in the end, it’s the author’s choice how they want to format and present their story.

Practice your analytical reading. You can do this anytime you read a story: keep an eye out for things you like, figure out why you like them. If something pulls you out of a story, give it a moment of thought. This is good practice for your own writing and your beta skills.

Not every beta fits with every author. Neither of you is to blame for that. It’s okay to move on.

After the first reading, give a small summary of overall impact and what stuck with you off the top of your hat. Then check what your author may have requested or specified, make a note on what your first impression was regarding that area. You can give more focussed feedback on that topic on a later readthrough, but this is reassuring to the author and helps you keep the request in mind for next time.

It’s okay if you can’t do all of it at once! Focus on one aspect on your first readthrough, and on another on the second. It’ll become easier with practice, I promise <3

(I’ll pull some examples from my own stint as beta-reader to showcase these in a post soon. Check this link for more beta-reading advice.)

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Different Types of Betas

Beta readers can fullfil a number of functions. One of the most important things is to realize what kind of beta the author is looking for.

Alpha or cheerreader. A person who’s there to encourage the author, with whom the author can spitball ideas and bring up plot points that just don’t seem to want to work, talks out writer’s block with and is in general something of a cheerleader for the story. Do not underestimate their importance.

Spellcheck beta. This is your most basic type of beta: Someone who looks for typos, spelling mistakes, grammar, and maybe for difficult to understand phrasing.

Editor-type beta. Someone who tells the author what works, and what still needs work. This tackles a variety of topics, from character consistency over story structure to plot plausibility. Pacing, characterisation, where the story flow is interrupted, where it gets boring, where you were about to cry - all of those and more fall within this category.

Sensitivity beta. So the author has included a deaf, trans, Korean character, but has no life experiences from any of those categories. In this case, they get a sensitivity reader or two from within the communities they represented in their story, to sort out and flag issues with the various *isms and *phobia. This way, they avoid misrepresenting those communities and there’s less of a chance of perpetuating harmful stereotypes. Of course, different individuals from the same community might have differing opinions. In general, this practice is (should be) more common in published fiction rather than fanfiction.

Expert or research assistant. The story is set in a bakery in the 16th century in Monaco. Now, the author does their own research, of course, but certain cultural, historical aspects are hard to ferret out. Asking someone who knows about the stuff you need in depth, or someone who has done this kind of research before helps cut down on the time spend on research and probably leaves the story more accurate. Might overlap with a sensitivity reader if the area of expertise is that community.

Of course, a sensitivity reader can also be a spellcheck beta, or a topic expert can give you advice on pacing. Here’s where the communication between author and beta is important, so both sides know what’s expected and needed.

(Beta-Reading Advice 101)

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[miss-ingno]

Why Get A Beta?

AKA what betas can offer to writers

In the corner of fandom I grew up with, there’s been this implication that beta-readers are for people who are bad at grammar and spelling. That they have great ideas but need help with their English. Meanwhile, a ‘good’ writer can do their own edits. I believe this fallacy arose from the idea that a beta’s main duty is spellcheck work, which is why I’ve illustrated different functions of betas in this post.

So. What do beta readers have to offer?

A second perspective. The author is usually too close to their own story - we compare it to what it looks like ideally in our heads, we already know the outcome, what connections and hints should be picked up on. It’s hard to distance yourself from all that, especially in a short amount of time. Getting a fresh pair of eyes helps figuring out what works and what doesn’t.

A unique point of view. This gets really obvious when you have several betas. Everyone latches onto different bits and details, and has different opinions about plot and character, different life experiences. It helps to figure out scenes, especially when you’re not happy with how they turned out, and with a sensitivity reader it helps to avoid pitfalls. It can give your story more depth, make it multi-faceted.

Spellcheck is still a valuable set of work for betas. As a writer, I’m sure you’re familiar with the phenomenon: you’ve re-read your own story so many times, your eyes just skip over the typos. You’re just happy you’ve got the words out and having to edit on top of that is exhausting. Again, a fresh pair of eyes is always helpful.

Encouragement. Sometimes it’s hard to keep writing. Sometimes the story feels like it’s going nowhere. Sometimes having to edit the existing story gets in the way of finishing it. A beta can provide positive reinforcement, feedback and help you figure out how to possibly get out of the corner you wrote yourself into.

Reassurance. We’ve all had that creeping doubt when writing that it’ll come off all wrong, that this character is totally OOC, that the clues are too subtle and everyone will miss them, that they’re too obvious and it’ll be boring, that no one will read it, it’s all garbage anyway... having a beta is really helpful to get rid of these self-doubts. This is why it’s so important for betas not only to point out what still could use some work, but also when the author did something really good!

World-building. As a beta, I like to ask questions about the world, how things work, how they apply to the characters. As a writer I’ve found these questions super useful because sometimes it’s hard to think of the right questions to ask, but even just considering one of these can spiral out and create a more fleshed-out world to set your story in!

Help with applying writing advice to your story. Maybe you want to write a fight scene, so you read up on advice, but it just won’t come out right and you don’t know why. You’ve followed the steps but it still doesn’t feel right. Get a beta who has an understanding of this area! Or just fumble through it together. That’s also a valid tactic and hey, two pairs of eyes see more than one.

Not all authors are looking for a beta. I’ve known writers who feel like they would never post anything if they had to wait for a beta to read it over, who don’t feel like editing, who are just happy they wrote anything at all. And that’s fine! Especially with fanfiction, a beta is not a must-have. I myself only tend to get betas for stories that are either very important and dear to me, or longer projects. Sometimes I just get one because I’m tired and on a deadline and don’t want to deal with the typos.

But whenever I do work with one, I feel a lot more satisfied with the end result.

(Beta Advice 101)

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