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highpony-betty · 1 year

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Finals: Noah and Betty

Shared Class: Switch

@noah-andrews

Noah was nervous. There was no doubt about it, but it had to be done and he really did trust Betty. He just had to remember his breathing and his visualization. He was cleaning her place as a way to show his appreciation not as a submission. That was the visualization, but in real life he had to make it seem like he was and it already had his stomach in knots. He kept thinking he was going to have to actually repay her for all of this including dealing with his messed up self.

Betty wasn’t sure if she hoped Noah would kneel at the door when he got there like everyone else would. It would be nice, but at the same time it would put him on the defensive right from the get go. “Thanks for coming. Im not good at cleaning without getting obsessive. Hopefully I can learn from you.”

As Noah followed after Betty too late realizing that people knelt when they were submitting. It was like the friggin' bat signal or something. The starting position everyone used. So he'd already messed up. "Ummm yeah, yeah this is way cleaner than my place, but I definitely learned a lot of cool tricks in class." He hoped that in the end he could actually offer her something of real substance. He was about to just jump right in, but remembered if he was doing the submissive thing he wasn't supposed to jump into anything. Wait, Noah. Wait for instructions, he told himself. Instructions aren't bad. They're not D/s. They're just instructions. Instructions don't necessarily have to be orders.

Betty waited quietly until it looked like Noah’s gears in his mind were slowing up or had at least settled on one thought. “Let’s start with just dusting like..” She looked around quickly. “Everything!”

Noah looked around and noticed that there was definitely some serious dust going on. He grinned. "Yeah, umm, the home ec teacher talked about a process for dealing with dust. Some of it is like useful and shit, but some of it doesn't work for me. I like keeping the windows open and these places all of carpeting so there's not much we can do about that." He looked around. "But one of the biggest tricks that I never knew is that you gotta damp mop and dust. If you don't you just move the dust around. So ahhh... where's your cleaning stuff."

“That..sounds like something I should know,” Betty admitted. She’d probably zoned out in class. Dusting was a hard subject to pay attention to. “Under the sink, you can grab them.”

"Not sure 'should' is the right word," he said with a laugh, considering she had information and skills that were definitely should kind of things... life-saving kind of things. He headed to the kitchen before suddenly stopping in his tracks. At first his breathing kicked up, knowing what he was supposed to do, but he did the diaphragm trick and turned and added one more word to his sentence. "Miss." He turned so quickly he practically did a pirouette and raced to grab the cleaning things.

Betty hadn’t exactly expected to be titled, but she was hoping to hear it and was happy it came here at the beginning. She gave a hint of a smile, which she knew he didn’t see. “Thank you!” She went and sat down on tje couch for a few minutes, doing the hardest crossword puzzle in the newspaper- purposely, so she knew she’d hit a break. When she die hit two that she didn’t know, she went to check on Noah.

It was easy enough to just focus on the dusting and cleaning as long as he thought of it as a job that needed to be done because it just needed to be done, not because he was being ordered to and was submitting. He could lose himself in the 'work' of it. This was the first time he was trying that damp mop and dust thing he'd learned in class and it really did work better. Instead of things flying around and settling back down where he'd just dusted they stuck to the cloth. "Fuck yeah," he muttered to himself when he looked around the whole bedroom seeing it was dust free. He saw Betty out of the corner of his eye and tensed. Was he supposed to kneel or something like that?

“Sounds like it’s going well,” Betty chuckled when she came up behind him. If this weren’t an exam, she would push him to kneel, to see if he could do it. But here, if she didn’t make a big deal, it wouldn’t be seen as a big deal. She looked at his work and was pleased with what he’d done. She didn’t look too closely so as not to obsess about it, but it looked good. “Now if we could please teach me a quick way to do dishes, that would be appreciated.”

He could feel a moment where there was something he was supposed to do. Probably that kneeling thing. But even if that was it, he'd already taken too long and even thinking about it had his heart racing. "Umm... ahhh, yeah, yeah... I know some tricks about that too. Did you know that you're not actually supposed to rinse the dishes too much before you put it in the dishwasher. If they are too clean the dishwasher soap and the water shoots out, you can scratch and fuck up your dishes and stuff." He looked in the sink and kind of wanted to laugh. There were barely any dishes to wash. "Or do you want me to wash by hand. There ain't much. I got some water saving tips for that."

“The washer is dirty,” she explained. “I haven’t run it because it’s not full. I was working for a week straight on top of classes and things got piled up so I had to tidy things yesterday.” The place could be messy beyond belief during bouts of hard work and she wouldn’t notice; but the second she would have down time, she’d see the mess and had to immediately fix it. “So I guess you can show me tricks for both.”

"Oh yeah. Cool. I never used to really use the dishwasher." He laughed. That might have been because I was an animal who hardly ever like cooked or did anything like that at home. Cup o' noodles don't need no dishes, am I right?" He was still eating way more cup o' noodles than could possibly be healthy. It was cheap though and he wasn't going to be getting a job until he got to level three so dollar store food was the way to go. "But I'm trying to use it more because it's more environmental and shit." He started going through everything that he'd learned in class from how to scrub dishes in groups and then rinse altogether to save water to the most efficient way to load a dishwasher. If he avoided the way the teacher had told them being a good housekeeper was the duty of every submissive so that they could serve their dominant and all that, it was actually kind of fun. But as soon as he was done he looked over at her and kind of lost the plot. Was he supposed to kneel or wait to be ordered to something or fucking what. His heart rate jumped up. He didn't want to kneel and he didn't want to be ordered around, but he was supposed to want that or fuck at least not freak out at the thought of it. He wasn't aware that he was standing there hyperventilating and squeezing a sponge in his hand and letting it drip all over the floor.

Betty was proud of Noah for being so focused and vigilant in the scene, telling her everything there was to know about dishes. She hadn’t realized there was so much. She was drying a plate when she heard the water being squeezed onto the floor. “Noah,” she said cautiously. “Get out of your head, please.” Her voice was even, not pleading him or yelling at him- just being steady and firm. “We’re just washing dishes. You’re not in danger.”

You're not in danger. The words rang in his head. He wasn't there wasn't anything dangerous here. Of course there wasn't. They were just washing dishes. But why was he breathing like this than. There must be something wrong because he couldn't breath right. He didn't move, but he blinked and nodded his head anyway though, trying to play along. "I... I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Betty made clear. “We finished one thing. We’ll move to another. I really need my place clean now that I won’t be too busy to notice; and I’d just rather not do alone.”

Noah nodded, trying to do that breathing thing she'd taught him. "Yeah, yeah.. sorry. Don't know why I'm freaking out." He looked around. "You know I don't mind coming over and straightening up a little. I really owe you for everything you've ummm helped me with." He felt a little more in control though he knew deep down that there were a lot of 'submissive' things he was supposed to be doing and a lot of 'dominant' things she probably wanted to be doing. But she wasn't forcing anything. He owed her for that if nothing else. "What's next?"

“How about you vacuum while I make the bed and then straighten up my desks?” She had three small desks in her spare room, and all of them were atrocious. She wished the serial killers would be made to come and clean up their own chaos. “Let me know if you start feeling..whatever again. What kind of music do you like?”

"Should you be doing any of this? Like isn't that kind of against the rules or something?" He nodded though and got to work. "Yeah, yeah. I will. Sorry. I won't let it happen again." Jazz is good. Ahmad Jamal, Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk... but honestly pretty much anything. All music is good music in my head." He vacuumed the carpet in the cross over pattern they'd learned in class though he still didn't buy that it was any different than any other way. He knew he wasn't doing the submitting part of this even close to right though so he ought to at least do the cleaning part right. Speaking of... he hadn't used a title in a really long time. He probably should do that right? He swallowed and stopped the vacuum to call out. "Thanks ahhhh Miss." He distracted himself from the squirming in his stomach by winding up the vacuum cord and putting it away. He went to start on the desks and pulled up short seeing some rather graphic photographs out on one of them. "Woah."

“I can pretty much do whatever I want as long Im not irresponsible, so yes, I can.” She didn’t say it in so many words, but she was in charge of the scene. She knew it could go wrong, but she was pretty determined not to let that happen. Hopefully. “That’s why I said I’d tidy up the desks,” she pointed out, placing the photos into a folder. “This stuff is copies of evidence, so you can’t see it. And killing you during an exam would get me expelled which isn’t a scenario I care for,” she joked with a grin.

"S...sorry. I thought you wanted me to do it. Sorry. Shit... Sorry you have to look at that stuff." He gulped buy drew his eyes up to hers. "Ummm yeah killing would be totally bad so maybe let's not do that."

“I don’t look at those much. I just had to for a minute to get a detail right for my write-up. I mostly look at psych profiles and codes these days.” She looked around and found a paper that had a grid of small squares on it, some of them white, otheres seemingly random splashings of other colors. “That’s not classified,” she said, handing it to him. “Took me three hours to figure out. Luckily I got better at it.” She nodded to a stack of papers just like it, but all in different patterns. Or..really different lack of obvious patterns. “Each had it’s own decoder to figure out.” She put them all into a folder which she dropped into a large shipping envelope to send back to the FBI so she wouldn’t be responsible for it any longer.

He looked at the chart, but honestly he couldn't make any sense of it at all. He was definitely sure that her brain was on a completely different level than his. Probably than almost anyone's. It was cool though. "Well, that's some big brain shit for sure. Did figuring that stuff out save lives?"

“Saved mine,” she chuckled. “And saving mine saved others, so technically it saved six lives.” The first desk was easy to clear off: it was all photos and official documents. The second was easy too: all codes. The third was..well chaotic. Coffee stains, random papers, about 30 crumpled up papers, magazines, magnifying tools, an old-fashioned decoder ring that hadn’t actually helped her, and plenty more random things. “Okay this one’s gonna be annoying.”

"Cool," Noah said with the kind of awe that only a teenager could muster. As cynical as a teenager could be, they were also capable of genuine awe. "What can I do? Is there anything here that can just get trashed or cleaned. Like I could go get stuff to wipe up the coffee stains?"

“Thank you,” Betty laughed. She often got used to her work and would forget how cool it was. “Yeah, that’d be good. And the magazines can be thrown out. And the crumpled papers can be thrown out.”

Noah nodded and gathered up the magazines and the crumbled papers. His arms were pretty full by the time he'd gotten everything off of the desk. Luckily he didn't drop everything on the floor before he got to the garbage can, but it was a close thing. He found some disinfecting wipes under the sink and figured that might be a good choice for the coffee stains. He had no idea how long they'd been there.

“Only like three days,” Betty said, reading his mind. “Actually..okay maybe a week. Or two. Not more than three. I think.” She wasn’t exactly sure how far into her work hustle the coffees on her desk had finally gotten too numerous and two had spilled. She managed to get the other things put away, or at least out of the open. “Fuck yeah,” she mumbled as she sealed the big envelope and labeled it, glad to be done with it. The case had been personal- with an old rival of hers- and even now he was behind bars waiting for his trial, plotting his next four chess moves.

Noah narrowed his eyes at her. "How did you know what I was thinking?" He also looked at the coffee stains with a little bit more alarm. Eventually he shrugged and just scrubbed them up off the desk. It already looked so much better. As he worked he looked over at Betty as she stuffed a few more things into the big envelope and laughed as she declared victory in a way he would have. "Fuck yeah," he agreed. "Fuck them bad guys."

“Order of tasks. The desk was clear, so the coffee stains are next. And they look pretty old,” she explained her thinking. She was trying to stay up to task with his thinking, so she could prevent anything bad from coming up. “Bad guys suck,” she agreed. Hopefully this particular one never got fucked again for the rest of his life. Sex was too good for him to get to take part in it. “Alright, what do you think we should do next?”

"Oh.. umm yeah, that makes sense. It's like psychology and shit." Noah looked around. "Well, how do you feel about me cleaning your bathroom?" He knew that for some people the bathroom was a private place.

“Yeah, that works,” she nodded, about to go find something to do herself when her cell phone rang. She looked at the call screen and answered it while rolling her eyes. “No and no some more,” was her greeting which she quickly amended. “Guess that was rude. What I meant to say was no and no some more, Sir” She pulled the phone away from her mouth, but made sure the person on the other end could hear her as she spoke to Noah. “This loser wants me to take on another case while I’m a student and unable to come and shoot people. I’m not a fan of the cases where I have no chance of shooting the bad guy.” She didn’t shoot people often; but not getting to lie at night for a bit thinking about the possibility of shooting the damn bastards didn’t help her sanity.

He nodded and grabbed what he'd need for the bathroom. He was just rounding the corner when he heard her talking into the phone, but directing her words partially to him too. He bust out laughing. "Doesn't seem fair," he agreed.

“Doesn’t seem fair, Ryan,” she repeated his words into the phone. “I have a hard time believing other people can’t figure out the psychopaths. Give me a drug dealer or-“ He cut her off to tell her what she already knew: she wasn’t available to work undercover, so drug busts couldn’t happen. “Fine but I have a rule that only three psychos who want me dead can be alive at a time so no assigning me more until one of the current ones dies.” She rolled her eyes again, and took her call into the other room, wanting to get out of earshot of Noah before telling her boss that she was doing an exam. There was no need to remind Noah of that fact.

It was weird to listen to her. Not because she was being so dang badass. Not because she was talking about psychopaths and drug dealers. It was just weird that she was here. She was bigger than all of this. He knew that she was here for her sister though and that did make sense. She was a hero. He watched her head to the other room and figured she was about to talk about super secret stuff. He focused on cleaning the bathroom and not the reason why he was cleaning the bathroom. Betty had been a superstar. She had made the whole thing as far from a scene as it could be. He started to feel tight in his chest, but really didn't want to fuck up again.

“Just text me the info and I’ll tell you no later,” she told her team leader before hanging up. They both knew she wouldn’t actually say no. Well, she knew that anyway. But her team knee not to put anything past her. She was wondering now if she should push Noah more or not. She wanted to make sure they’d get credit for the scene. He’d titled her a couple times, but they both knew there was something else: kneeling. Hopefully she could get around the formality of it. While he was on his knees on the floor cleaning anyway, she walked into the bathroom and spoke to him from her position standing up. “How’s it going?”

Noah looked up at her. "Ummm... I'm done I think." He rocked on the outside of his heels and chewed on his lip. "This... Umm all of this," He gestured around himself indicating the cleaning or the scene, who knows. “Isn't like enough to pass the final is it?"

“It depends how technical they want to get,” she sighed. “If what’s going on right now is considered kneeling, it should meet bare minimum. I checked the class’s syllabus. But it’s not 101, so if we could think of some way to show dynamics, it would help because we picked a mark class.” She shrugged as she thought for a while. “Any chance you like denial? Cuz that would show sexual submission which could work.”

Noah felt panic bubbling up. But fuck he needed to do this shit. He needed to not be a dumb freak. "Ummm, sure, maybe...." It might have been a bit more convincing if he wasn't shaking his head no while speaking.

“Okay, so no to that,” she bit her lip. “I think we’ve maybe done enough,” she said thinking out loud. “You did cleaning, you titled me, you’re on hour knees..” she shrugged. “Im not sure that there’s anything else we have to do. So..I guess it’s aftercare time. Can I treat you to a coffee or something?”

He felt foolish as his lip began to tremble like some dumb little kid. He was glad it was over, but he knew he'd fucked up. What if they failed or worse. What if he got her in trouble or something because he'd fucked it up. He ducked his head hoping he couldn't see him crying.

“What kind of movies do you like?” There really wasn’t any use in pretending to be blind, but she didn’t have to call it out or make it a big deal. He wasn’t in current distress- he just felt bad. Probably.

He wiped at his eyes and nose, knowing there was no way she hadn't already seen. "Umm, anything. Old movie maybe? Singing in the Rain?" It was an old comfort movie. You could lose yourself in it and forget your troubles. "I'm sorry." He truly was. She had been nothing but understanding and helpful and he'd repaid her by being a total basket case. As if she didn't get enough of that in her work.

“Oh that has the dancer guy, right?” She hadn’t seen the movie, but she had heard of it. “We both did our best,” she told him. “And Im not disappointed, by the way. This coulda gone really wrong, so Im glad it didn’t.”

He sniffled and nodded. "Gene Kelly, yeah." He nodded again. "I really did try." Hearing that she wasn't disappointed was a freakin' relief. She'd gone to a lot of trouble for this and he didn't want this to all be a waste of time. He didn't dare ask her if she thought they'd pass though.

#finals #exams #events #para: finals noah #para: noah #paras

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tinkdw · 6 years

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I understand the thirst over Jensen's driving PSA, but as a lesbian, that video just made me laugh & cringe bc it felt like my dad giving me a driving safety lecture while trying to sound cool XD

As someone who thinks Jensen is hot AF I still had that reaction dw!

But it’s WAY more important to use ones celebrity for good things wherever possible.

J2 have both been accused recently by many “fans” on SM of not doing enough politically and socially so tbh I will defend him doing this to the hills. It seems people will moan about anything. I’m proud that he’s doing something with his celebrity to make the world a better place. If this ad saves ONE life it was entirely worth the cringe.

Let’s be positive about the people we are fans of for one damn minute!

#jensen ackles #I’m so over everyone having an /opinion/#friggin let them do something good without shitting on it #especially when they until literally that day it was released have been non stop attacked for not doing enough #sigh

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sunshine-zenith · 4 years

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Okay but like. Ratatouille from Linguini’s perspective tho

You’re some broke, awkward guy in his twenties who can’t keep a job down to the point that you Know that the letter your recently dead mom wrote to her also dead famous friend’s coworker contains Something about giving you employment. So you march yourself down to this fancy restaurant, submit yourself to verbal whiplash, fork over what might’ve been the last thing your mother ever wrote, and become the lowly janitor

Fine, right? I mean, shitty day/week/month/whatever, but you aren’t picky. You have a job, so you can pay rent. Except you accidentally spill like half a pot of soup and you panic. You literally got this job like fifteen minutes ago and you already fucked up. Rent is breathing down your neck so you do the Broke Twenty Something thing where you try to use water to hide the difference, throw in some spices because you have no idea how cooking works, and hope that no one notices despite the fact that one sniff tells you you fucked it up worse.

Then a rat fixes it.

A random rat fixes it.

(You’re broke, you’re mom is dead, and you cook worse than a rat. Imagine that.)

And somehow the soup gets served to a food critic that’s apparently well respected and now you have no idea if you’re gonna be flayed alive by your new boss or given a job you are in no way qualified for. Rent is still a thing.

Then you realize the rat understands human language and knows enough body language to communicate. Then you realize you’re own body is fucking weird because this completely random rat (that you had to explain morality to because he stole some herbs from your neighbor) is controlling your limbs by tugging on your hair. Also you become lowkey famous yourself because the rat is that good a cook.

And you have to go along with it because you need money to eat and not be homeless and you need a job to get money. It hasn’t even been a week.

At least your coworkers are nice enough. You get a crush on one of them and get a crash course on cooking and working in a kitchen and sexism and oh my god like at least three of your coworkers are technically criminals aren’t they?? Also your boss gets you drunk and asks you a bunch of weird questions about pets. You only wanted a job

(The rat makes you kiss the coworker you kinda have a crush on that’s been teaching you everything. What the fuck. You probably have to explain consent to a rat now. Luckily the coworker likes you back and is okay with the kiss, but still. What the fuck)

(Also the rat now seems to have a rivalry with your new girlfriend. What the hell, rat buddy? You’re literally the reason these two are together, and also the girlfriend has been working in the food industry longer than the rat has been alive probably, she clearly knows her shit)

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the rat walks up to you with some documents about how your dead mom’s dead famous friend is your dad. Also your boss did DNA tests on you behind your back (invasive much??). Now you own an entire restaurant because of a deadline in you’re secret dead dad’s will that was like two days away from being moot.

(I dunno about y’all, but I’d need to sit down for like seventy years at this point because there’s like fifty different layers of fucked up here. You grew up without knowing your dad, then you learn you’ve been working at his restaurant. He’s famous and his face is on a bunch of frozen food dishes. Both of your parents are dead. Your mom never told you or your dad about the being related thing for some reason. Your boss did a DNA test on you. You own a restaurant and you can’t even cook. Your new pet rat somehow got this information before you and can apparently read. Your father was a famous chief, your name is literally a pasta, and you can’t even cook. It’s only been a couple months, what the hell)

Now you’re famous and the food critic they lowkey caused your secret dad’s death is after you because he has a weird vendetta going on, and also your rat (who’s like your best friend at this point let’s be real) is acting weirder than usual, but at least you have a better apartment and get to talk about how much you love your super cool and smart girlfriend in public.

Next thing you know, your rat is sneaking other rats into the kitchen, you have to explain that a rat can cook better than you, and everyone quits in the middle of the day (what the heck, one of them probably killed a guy and another was in the circus. The rat thing is weird but like. You can roll with the punches. Why can’t they??)

So while you’re like having a panic attack because of this, your rat unionized his rat friends and now the kitchen is being run by rats. What can you do? You wait tables because what the hell, you’re in way too deep at this point.

(Also, side note, Linguini totally missed out on his true calling as a professional roller skater or something. Dude’s graceless even when he isn’t being piloted by a rat, but on a set of roller skates he’s friggin amazing)

Luckily, your super smart (maybe ex?) girlfriend comes back (even if the whole rat thing is still throwing her off, but hey. It’s prolly nice to have Somebody acknowledge the weirdness of this entire thing without jumping ship). Apparently the food your rat cooks is so good that the food critic that lowkey killed your dad reevaluates his entire life, but now he wants to meet the person that made the meal. What do you do — your (maybe ex?) girlfriend is the only other human here, do you say she made it or do you show him the rat?

You decide to make this Super Important Super Harsh food critic wait hours, then you and your (probably) girlfriend have to show off how you’re weirdly drift compatible with a rat. The food critic just like. Thanks you for the meal and leaves. What do you do?

Also at some point during the night the rats kidnapped your weirdly invasive ex-boss and a health inspector. So yeah, you should probably deal with that.

Then the food critic that lowkey lead to your dad’s death writes this inspirational piece that critizes critics, tanking his own career in the process, only for the health inspector to shut down your dad’s restaurant. But okay, the now ex-food critic now takes the money he made shattering the dreams of other chiefs and invests in your rat best friend’s dreams, and now he’s kinda your friend and you work at the rat’s restaurant with your amazing girlfriend.

All this happened in only a few months. You just wanted a job.

Linguini’s a fucking champion for putting up with all this istg

#long post #ratatouille pixar #pixar #alfredo linguini #the sun shines #broke 100 #broke 500 #broke 1000

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Insatiable

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

WARNINGS : THERES JUST WAY TOO MUCH FILTH HERE !!!!!!!!

A huge thank you for the banner to @helenazbmrskai

Chapter 6

“You sure you don’t want to take that?” Yugyeom gave me a look as i rejected the call for the umpteenth time.

“Oh..uh... Yeah.” I shrugged it off feeling exhausted.

The whole point of going out with Yugyeom was to take a break from one Jeon Jungkook but that was impossible..... with said vampire calling me every five minutes.

“So...anyways.... Mingyu was way out of line and I really wanted to apologize on behalf of the idiot. Although your bodyguard seems to have put the fear of God into him....Kid was trembling when he came home last night. “ Yugyeom chuckled.

I smiled weakly.

“Yeah...he tends to do that.” I said hoarsely.

Jungkook was the one topic I was hoping to avoid. Because having sex with him hadn’t scratched the itch the way I had thought it would.... It had merely amped my lust by a few hundred thousand times and I was ill equipped to handle it. I didn’t know what to do with myself around him and I was so fucking terrified I was going to do something awful;.

Like jump him in front of everyone.

So I’d spent the whole day trying to be aloof but it hadn’t worked very well.

Jungkook stuck close me , tossing lingering glances that made my skin heat up, , hands brushing mine way too often, eyes trained on me without any restraint

And don’t even get me started on the touching.

Hand brushing my waist when we turned a corner , fingers brushing my hair off my face when I had my hands full with the kids, an arm wrapped around my shoulder when Minhyuk had asked me out again.

And I’m not saying i didn’t love it because it felt like Christmas and my birthday had come together but.... but... I had a job to do. With kids.

It wasn’t the place to be fantasizing about how good your bodyguard’s cock had felt inside you.

“Jungkook right? Jeon Jungkook ....” Yugyeom said thoughtfully.

“Uh ...yeah...”

“Tall dude? Black hair? Looks way too intimidating and dresses like he’s just stepped off a runway?” Yugyeom prompted and I blinked.

“You know him?” I asked surprised.

Yugyeom shook his head.

“No, but I think he’s over by the bar and he’s looking at me like he wants to tear out my jugular.” He said casually.

My gaze snapped to the bar behind us and I felt my eyes widen in disbelief.

Jungkook stood leaning against the bar, eyes narrowed dangerously and I groaned.

So much for avoiding him.

“He looks pissed.” Yugyeom commented.

“I kinda ditched him.” I muttered.

“did you tell him , I’m a friend?”

“Don’t think it would have made much difference. Gimme a minute?” I whispered, and Yugyeom laughed, waving me off.

I stood up slowly , bracing myself for the interrogation I knew was coming, before turning around and walking over to him.

Jungkook’s eyes stayed trained on me as I made my way over and I felt my throat go dry at the sight of him. He hadn’t dressed for the place today, a black turtleneck and a black jacket and black slacks with a silver belt buckle. Hair tousled all over his forehead as he stared, unsmiling.

“Is this whole angel of death thing really necessary?” I whispered as soon as I reached him.” I’m sorry. I just needed to ...” stay away from you for a bit and last night was so amazing and i can’t stop thinking about it.

“ You couldn’t take a few minutes to tell me where you were going?” He asked casually and I swallowed.

“Jungkook, Yugyeom’s ...a good friend.” I muttered.

“How about you let me make that call?” He said coldly, eyes narrowed in annoyance and I felt chilled.

“I’m sorry... To be honest, I missed you. I’ve gotten used to you being around and I was going to cut the night short. I promise.”

He scoffed.

‘Really? I don’t believe you. For someone who spent the better part of a month begging for my cock, the novelty seems to have worn off pretty fast for you.” He said casually.

My head snapped up , the words stunning me into silence.

I could only gape at him.

He gave me another lazy once over.

“And it made me wonder.....did I not fuck her good enough?”

Oh, Christ.

I felt my face turn a flame red , my fingers going clammy.

“Jungkook, stop.” I whispered , glancing back at Yugyeom quickly. He was fiddling with his phone,

“What’s wrong? You need to head back? YOur boyfriend’s gonna be upset?”

I frowned.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I muttered.

Jungkook grinned.

“Right...he’s just the clown you wanted to suck off when you were younger...”

“God, what’s gotten into you?” I groaned.

Jungkook shrugged.

“I don’t like being ignored. It’s a character flaw of mine.”

I gaped at him.

“I am not ignoring you.... I... I was out with a friend....It’s been less than an hour since I saw you... I literally spent the whole day with you.” I said shrilly.

“Really? Then why’d you not pick up when I called....?” He waved his phone and I flushed, looking away.

“Because I wanted an hour with an old friend....Without anyone interrupting.” I lied.

Because you’re driving me in sane and I need an hour without you around so I can get my friggin body under control before I get arrested for public indecency.

He clenched his jaw.

“I see. “ He reached for a glass of wine on the countertop in front of him and turned around. “ Here” He held it out for me.

I took the drink, suspicious.

“Go on , then.... I won’t interrupt...” He shrugged.

I nodded, relieved.

Turning around I made to move away.

“Thought you’d be interested in a little gift I got you.... but if you’d rather spend time with the clown... I get that.”

His voice was low and deep, a drawl that made the hair on my skin stand on end.

I turned back to him, eyes narrowed.

“What gift?” I demanded.

He shrugged.

“Nevermind.”

I felt my hackles rise.

“Jungkook...”

“Are you sure.. what if that clown misunderstands... ...” he pointed a finger at my table and I glared at him.

“Stop calling him that , God..his name is yugyeom. “ I snapped.

Jungkook’s smile was positively feral.

“Don’t know .Don’t care. So, you want it? You sure ?” He asked casually.

i nodded, holding my hand out.

“Gimme .” I said quickly.

He shook his head.

“Can’t give it to your here, angel.”

I frowned , drawing my hand back.

“There’s a ladies room on the fifteenth floor. It’s being renovated ... no one goes there... Meet me there in five?”

I stared at him.

“There’s a firework show in half an hour. I don’t wanna miss it.” I protested.

Jungkook gave me a thoughtful smile.

“You wanna watch the fireworks?”

I nodded. “ Yugyeom booked it for me. I wanna see it.”

“Alright.. I’ll get you back in time for the fireworks.” He nodded, face frustratingly neutral.

“Okay..then .. and I’ll meet you there.”

“Can’t wait ...” He murmured softly.

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

The restroom on the fifteenth floor was deserted like he said and looked less like the ladies room and more like a luxurious parlor. The stalls were further in and the waiting space had beautifully upholstered couches and armchairs. Ornate mirrors hung on all the walls and I found Jungkook seated on one the couches, legs spread wide as he casually browsed his phone.

I stepped in carefully , shutting the door behind me.

Jungkook looked up at me, smiling.

“Lock the door.” He said casually and I hesitated.

“Jungkook, we shouldn’t be-”

“If you need to be at the firework show , you need to stop wasting time baby...” He said firmly.

I locked the door quickly, making sure it couldn’t be opened.

I turned back around and jumped when I ran right into Jungkook, who had crept up on me.

He smiled at me.

“Hi.” He said gently.

I felt myself melt .

“Hi.” I laughed.

“Don’t like it when you ignore me.” He muttered. bending low and nipping my jaw.

I grabbed his shoulders, knees weak.

“Uh... is this the gift...?” I gasped when he bit down hard, teeth sharp on the skin and he licked the little abrasion, wet and warm.

“Not really but I’ll get to it. Before that, “ He pulled away, “ I just realized I never got to eat you out yesterday.”

The gears in my head stopped spinning.

I could only stare at him, stunned/

“But, I like to be thorough and we don’t have that kind of time right now. So I’m just gonna ask you this.....Do You regret last night?”

I blinked.

What even...? I couldn’t keep track of his thought process.

“No.. no of course not...” I said harshly.

“You wanna keep doing this?” He tilted his head, eyes boring into mine.

Only for the rest of my life.

“Yes!!” I said angrily and he chuckled.

“Okay...but angel, I don’t like it when you run around doing as you please without letting me know what you’re up to. What you did today...” He shook his head. “ That doesn’t work for me.”

I flushed.

“I said I’m sorry.” I muttered.

“But are you?” He said thoughtfully.

“what..What does that mean...?”

“Apologies don’t mean shit if you don’t back them up with actions. I’m just saying... you ready to back up your words by doing as I say?” his eyes flashed red.

I hesitated.

“What do you want me to do. ?”

“Just don’t ignore me.” He shrugged.

“Okay...” i agreed at once.

“ You can do that?” He asked with a frown.

“Uh...sure. “

He hummed.

“I’m not so sure... I think you need a little help with that.”

“Jungkook , what are you even -”

“Go lie down on the couch for me. “

I stared at him.

“Hurry up baby, your boyfriend’s waiting upstairs remember? .” He grinned.

“Please stop calling him that...” I whined, moving to the wide couch in the corner and lying down after toeing off my shoes.

. Jungkook grabbed an armchair, dragging it close to the couch. He sat down , close enough to touch and I swallowed.

Jungkook shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on the arm of the couch , near my feet.

He spread his legs and my eyes nearly popped out of my head when he began unbuckling his belt, dragging the leather out through the hoops before fiddling with the buttons on his fly.

“I was thinking of last night. Was your first time right angel?” He asked casually and I stared as I watched his hands. Long nimble fingers gripping the zipper of his slacks and yanking the metal down , revealing black briefs.

“Uh... I.. yes?” I felt my thighs clench in arousal, toes curling into the fabric of the couch.

“ I’ve been around enough women to know that I’m bigger than average. “ He sank his fingers into his briefs, hands curling around the hardened length of his arousal and I flushed when he pulled his cock out, hard and thick.

“Jungkook!” I whimpered, moving to scramble to my feet but he pressed a hand to my shoulder, pushing me back down.

“ Stay there angel.... Let me finish” He said sternly.

I pouted, not entirely sure if I liked this Jungkook. Where was the sweet man who wanted to let me call the shots?

“ This is what I’m like. “ Jungkook said , grinning as though he could read my mind “ Just because I indulged you last night, doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you walk all over me ....Running off without telling me where you went? That’s not gonna happen again angel and I’m gonna make sure of it. ” He reached out and gently gripped my chin before squeezing down enough to make me wince.

I glared at him before my eyes slipped back to his cock and my mouth watered. It looked so good, thick and hard and he was close enough for me to see the precum beading up at the slit. I wondered what it would taste like. How it would feel,

“Can I suck you off?” I asked softly, batting my lashes.

He gave me an amused look.

“No. You can’t. Anyways... Like I was saying , I know you said you were a virgin but then, you also took my fat cock like you’d been doing it all your life. “ He frowned.

Blood rushed to my face in embarrassment.

“That’s... you...” I spluttered.

“And that’s when I realized... Just because you’re a virgin, doesn’t mean you haven’t fucked yourself. “ He grinned devilishly.

I buried my face in my hands.

“Oh god...” I choked.

“Guess what I found in your room...”

My eyes snapped up to him and he was rummaging in his jacket pocket.

I shrieked when I saw a very familiar vibrator , a pale mauve in color. It wasn’t very long but it was really thick, only a hairsbreadth smaller than Jungkook.

I glared at him.

“You went through my things!!” i yelled affronted.

He rolled his eyes.

“Hardly. It was literally on your bed when I went looking for you in the evening because I couldn’t fucking find you.. “ He snapped.

I shut my mouth.

“Okay...fine ..yeah I use sex toys. Big deal.” I muttered.

He shook his head.

“No it isn’t. Which is why I want you to show me. “ He leaned back, casually wrapping a hand around his cock. I stared at him as he casually began stroking the hard length of his dick, after licking his palms.

Did he really think I was too shy to put on a show?

Boy was he in for a surprise.

Smiling evilly, I pulled my dress up quickly, hooking my thumbs into my panties and yanking them down quickly, kicking them off.

I gave him a smile.

“Can I turn around? You’ll have a better view.” I smirked.

His eyebrows shot up.

“Go ahead, princess. Better impress me.”

I rolled my eyes at that.

Sitting up , I sat back down against the cushioned arm rest, keeping my eyes trained on his and I bent my knees and spread my legs, utterly shameless because well... because I had always liked the idea of being watched.

Jungkook wasn’t shy by any standards and his gaze flitted right between my legs without any hesitation.

“Pretty.” He murmured gently and I fought the rush of embarrassment. I’d started this and I was going to see through it.

“What am I supposed to get turned on by?” I asked innocently running my fore and middle finger up andn down my slit gently. I was really fucking wet on the inside but he couldn’t know that.

And just for good measure, I let my gaze drop to his cock and back up, looking bored.

His eyes narrowed.

“How about the way I filled your sloppy little cunt last night? Remember that? Remember how fucking wet you got, just from me licking your nipples....?” He smiled.

I felt my throat go dry and my pussy clenched, damp wetness seeping out and coating my hand and my fingers slipped right in before I could do anything about it.

Jungkook laughed, eyes trained where my fingers had disappeared.

He kept his hands on his cock and leaned in closer, kissing the edge of my earlobe.

“Thought so. “ He whispered right into my ears, :” My horny little slut. Bet you walk around all day with that cunt dripping wet and ready. Bet I could fuck into you with ease, anytime I want...just flip that skirt up, push your panties aside and drive my cock into you, yeah? “ He licked a stripe up my cheeks and I shuddered, pumping my fingers into my pussy faster, “ Virgin..??? what a fucking joke... You are the farthest thing from a virgin my sweet little whore...”

“Jungkook...” I whimpered and he gripped my wrists, stilling my fingers and pulling them out. He pulled my hand closer, right up to his mouth and I groaned when he wrapped his lips around the wet and messy digits, licking up all the wetness there.

“Sweet and spicy , just like I thought...” He directed my fingers back down between my fingers...” Get more of that wetness for me baby...want you to jerk me off with that hot slick you have dripping between your thighs...”

:” On your knees.” He prompted and I sank down in front of him. “Jerk me off, baby...Make me feel good...” He whispered, spreading his legs and I wrapped shaky hands around his cock. I swallowed , gazing at him , licking my lips as I stroked his dick, faster. He took one of my hands and directed them down to his balls.

“Like this... This makes me feel good..”He whispered, showing me just how he liked to be touched .I nodded, following his lead and speeding up my movements, gripping a little tighter, using my thumb to trace circles on the head, rubbing the wetness around his slit and the thick vein on the underside of his cock.

He groaned and shuddered a little. And then he leaned forward, gripping my chin.

“ I want you to get on my lap now.... and then I’m gonna cum inside you “

I whimpered, already scrambling to my feet but before I could get on him, he gripped my waists.

“ Let me finish, angel.I’m gonna fill you up with my cum and then I’m gonna stick this , “ He held the vibrator up, “ inside you . If you can keep your slutty little pussy tight enough for me, keep this thing and my cum inside you till tonight...maybe you’ll get your gift. “

I stared at him, my jaw coming unhinged.

What.

WHAT.

He pulled me closer, maneuvering me onto his lap and I swallowed.

“I’m not... I can’t..” I whispered.

“Sure you can.. I believe you. But if you don’t want to.” His gaze softened. “ We can forget all about it.”

I bit my lips, staring into his gorgeous face and and really, it was a no brainer. I wasn’t going to say no to Jeon Jungkook. It was just not going to happen.

I spread my thighs and he grabbed his cock, tracing the tip on my slit.

“Ready?”

I nodded, sinking down on the hard length easily. My breath caught , fingers curling into his shoulders as I swallowed the whimper that threatened. God he was so fucking big inside me. So hard and real and good and I wanted to sit on his cock forever. Wanted to stay locked in a room with him forever, just fucking and teasing and fucking again and only stopping to shower or eat.

“Don’t cum.” He said gently.” You don’t get to cum till I tell you to. You understand baby?”

I whimpered as he fucked into me just once or twice. Warm wetness flooded my insides and I clutched his shoulders, burying my face there as he groaned, fucking me full of his release.

He grabbed the vibrator from the couch and I swallowed when he brought it down to my entrance.

“Ready baby? Gonna pull my cock out and put this in.....Need to you clench down on it and keep my cum in... Don’t make a mess alright?” He kissed my cheeks sweetly, the affectionate gesture a complete contrast to his filthy words.

I did make a mess...

A little bit and the vibrator was thick enough to stay lodged in, and I felt my eyes roll back in my head as he pushed it in fully.

“You okay?” He whispered, kissing me softly before running his palms up and down my thighs. “Gonna help you put your panties on, baby. okay? keep your pussy clenched for me. ”

I nodded weakly, trying to keep my muscles clamped around the hard length of the toy inside me as he helped slip my bikini briefs back up my thighs.

“You okay?”

I nodded.

“Good. Let’s go see those fireworks, shall we?” He grinned devilishly.

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

Jungkook stood leaning against the wall of the rooftop restaurant , arms crossed as he watched her, a smile playing around his lips as he watched her squirm, shifting her weight from on thigh to the other as she tried to sit on the hard backed chair, her eyes glassy and unfocused as the Kim vampire talked to her.

Dude didn’t seem to realize that she was so out of it she probably didn’t understand a word he was saying.

He stayed in the shadows because the front of his thighs was stained with cum, a little bit of white streaks, stark against the black of his slacks. She had let a little of it spill out of her when he’d pulled out...which was a little sloppy of her and usually, Jungkook would punish something like that in a partner but...well because it was the first time he would just let it pass. Besides, he was sure she would improve with time.

He trained his eyes back to her hips and his lips quirked when gripped she armrest, shivering a bit.

This felt better, he thought.

Watching her with other men was easier when he knew that he was the one on her mind. Knew that all she could think about was keeping his cum inside her, the hardness of the toy a reminder that he was the one she was trying to please and impress.

He slipped a hand inside his pocket, playing with the tiny little remote .

Should he?

Would it be too much?

He smirked.

Only one way to find out.

He thumbed the small knob at the top of the remote, eyes trained on her .

The moment he flipped it on , at the smallest setting possible, she went completely still.

And he wondered how it felt, the electric vibrations of the toy against her insides...he wished he could see it...she her pussy spread out for him, pink and wet and swollen and wrecked.... God, the things he wanted to do to her.

It annoyed him a bit, how shamelessly she’s spread her legs on that couch, let him see the pink of her cunt without an ounce of shame .....annoyed him because he wasn’t sure if it was for him or because it was what she was like....

Annoyed him because if it wasn’t for just him.... would she do it for other too?

He couldn’t stomach the idea of it.

That pretty pink pussy, so wet and wanting...he wanted it all for himself . He wanted her legs spread out on his bed, her arms tied to the fucking bedposts so he could show her just how dangerous he could be when he wanted to....

That just because he’d let her take the lead didn’t mean he would settle for anything less than her complete submission.

Smiling, he turned the vibrations up a little bit, smirking as he watched her.

Sera gripped the armrest gently, raising her hips off the chair a bit and turning around slowly to stare right at him.

He grinned wide, relishing the shocked desperation on her face. He pushed away from the wall, sauntering over to her slowly till he was right behind her.

“Doing okay? baby?” He whispered gently for her ears only.

“Don’t do this to me.” She said softly, nails digging indents into her part as she clenched her fists , resting her hands on her knees.

He hummed.

Poor baby, he thought fondly. . When this night was over he would shower her with kisses. Giver all the affection. Cuddle the fuck out of her, brush her hair back and make her feel so, so , good.

But the night was far from over.

He glanced at her companion.

Yugyeom gave him a smile and nod, went back to talking about art or something.

Sera had her eyes fixed straight ahead, glassy and unfocused.

He leaned over to whisper into her ear.

“Don’t forget...You cannot cum.”

And then he sauntered back over to his place near the wall, before slipping his fingers into his jacket and turning up the tempo for her.

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

“Was fun catching up, Sera... I’ll text you, yeah?” Yugyeom gave me a light hug and I stared at him, slightly teary eyes and about a second away from collapsing into a heap on the floor.

I was sore and tired and a little out of my mind. The fireworks had lasted fifteen minutes.

It had felt like a year.

And I hadn’t even watched them because I had kept my eyes screwed shut, concentrating only on not cumming, because if I did, not only would I literally drip all over the chair , but I would likely scream loud enough to wake the dead.

Jungkook had turned the toy off when the show ended but it had done nothing for me...in fact it felt worse because the lack of stimulation was even worse than the steady thrum of the toy against my walls.

Jungkook looked entirely unaffected as he watched me bid good bye to Yugyeom and it was only when he had driven away that he lightly took my arm.

“You okay baby?” He gave a me a slow smile and I glared at him through wet lashes.

“I won’t go anywhere without you again. I promise. Please just get this out of me.”

He cooed, pulling me into a hug.

“Alright angel. I believe you. Come on...”

He led me to the large black Palisade , grabbing the keys from the valet.

“Get in the back seat.” He prompted.

I nodded, too out of it to even question it. I climbed into the seats and sat down, whimpering when the toy moved inside me, shifting in deeper. My clothes were damp , almost soaking wet and my thighs trembled.

He glanced at me.

“Can you hold on till we get home?” He asked gently.

I stared at him, unseeing. Tears filled my eyes and spilled over.

“Please.” Was all I could get out.

“Fuck, okay baby. Hang on.”

Jungkook drove quickly, pulling out of the hotel premises and into the road. But instead of taking the left like he usually did, he took a U turn, picking a side road that led away from the city’s bustle .

I gripped the seats as he drove in further away from the crowded city light , only blinking when he took a right into secluded side road, empty except for us.

I stared in confusion as he parked the car , turned off all the lights in the car. I watched him climb out of the front seat, slamming his door shut before prying mine open.

“Lay back for me baby. Up against the door.” He said gently. And then when I didn’t move he climbed, in all but lifting me up and settling me down till, I was leaning against the door, staring down at him.

He didn’t waste any time, spreading my legs, and pulling my panties off before pushing my knees up and apart.

“Gonna eat you out.” He growled and my eyes flew open, the first pang of lucidity hitting me.

“Wha-Wait...your...there’s...inside, there’s....” I couldn’t even say it.

“My cum? Yeah... i know my cum’s inside there...” Jungkook laughed, fingers gripping the base of the vibrating and twisting it just a little bit. “ i know angel, and now I’m gonna lick my cum out of your sopping wet pussy..”

Jungkook pulled the vibrator out of me and I sobbed at the gush of wetness that dripped out of me. But it didn’t spill, because he chased the wetness with his tongue, curling the hard length of it inside me, scooping up every last drop of the filthy mess inside me, taking it all into his hot, wet mouth .

He hummed a little before pressing a thumb to my clit, rubbing the nub till I began quivering already way too overstimulated to experience anything but a throbbing pain disguised as pleasure. I stared at him , vision swimming as he crawled to his knees on the back seat, head bowed because of the car’s ceiling and I watched him fumble with his belt, pulling out his cock and lining it up against my entrance.

He drove straight in, without any hesitation, leaning over me till his face was just a little away from mine, staring down at me, cheeks a little puffed. He fucked into me with a force that shook the car on its wheels, the large vehicle somehow shaking like a leaf from how hard he thrust into me. I felt like my body was on fire, breath getting punched out of me with every thrust of his cock inside me and I could only whimper , fingers curling and uncurling on the seat as I rode the high of being fucked into incoherency.

Jungkook grunted, hipped my waist hard used one hand to rub my clit harshly.

And then he bought his other hand up to slip two fingers into my mouth, prompting me to open my mouth. The digits slipped in , rubbing the flat of my tongue before pulling out.

I stared wordlessly, as his fingers slipped down to cup my jaw, squeezing till I opened my mouth wide. I stuck my tongue out instinctively and he groaned.

Jungkook gave me cheeky little wink, eyes flashing red before he opened his mouth, spitting the wet mess of his cum and my juices right onto my tongue just as he pulled back and drove into me, his cock going so deep I saw actual fireworks.

I went completely still, the sheer filthiness' of the act and the force of his thrust driving me straight over the edge , even as he groaned and kissed me full on the lips, tongue swooping in to swirl the mess on my tongue all over, his fingers gripping my hair as he fucked me harder, chasing his own pleasure now.

My body hummed, exhausted, drained, completely wrung out and wrecked.

I went limp as he gave one last thrust, spilling into me again.

He was panting against my neck as he came down from his high and I raised a shaky hand to gently stroke the back of his head as he shuddered against me.

When he pulled back to stare at me, brushing my damp hair off my face he had a smile on his face.

“Did you enjoy the fireworks baby?” He whispered.

It took me two whole minutes to even remember what he was talking about.

Author’s note :

Jungkook sure knows how to get her attention back on him doesn’t he?

@ladyartemesia @veronawrites @alpaca1612 @bonyg @unseejuice21 @sppvjj @ggukkieland @tae-by-tae @blr1004 @yoongichild @stussyjeon @jellybearo @sumzysworld @carolsummerlove

@bunniechoon

@preciouschimine

#jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook vampire au #bts vampire au #jungkook fanfic #bts fics #bts fanfics #bts smut #bts au #bts smut fic #bts fanfic #bts jungkook

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Blind mistake

Rowaelin month - day 8

So, this fic was fighting me at the beginning. as I started, deleted and restarted a million times.

Then slowly the idea came and here it is. What I was not expecting was to write a A Little Braver AU.

Aelin and Rowan meet under different circumstances and are two different people from thee actual story. Aelin is still the captain at east station and Rowan still the airforce captain.

Yes, this is a happier fic but as Aelin said in KoA... she loved Rowan because it was him, the man who had known pain as deep as hers.

IN order to enjoy this fic you do not need to have read ALB. A part from Pete popping up for a brief second at the end, this is a complete stand alone story and no knowledge of ALB is needed.

Rowan sighed. His love life sucked so much that he ended up using a dating app. Since Lyria dumped him a year before he had been struggling to go back in the game. He had been on a few dates but so far none of the women he met had sparked his curiosity. Far too bland and with almost no personality or far too bothered by looks. Some of them had been downright stupid and he had been a gentleman and played along when all he wanted to do was run away screaming. The last nightmare had been a woman called Remelle who Lorcan had recommended to him. He had to feign food poisoning and pay the chef to let him escape from the back of the restaurant to flee the monster. He had paid the bill sneakily, and once home he had insulted Lorcan and his poor taste in women.

Now he was again in a restaurant, ready for probably another fiasco. He and the woman had chatted a bit and she had seemed interesting so he had dared to ask her out and she had accepted. On the paper it was all good. In reality he was getting ready for another crazy escape. Maybe he should just give up and live alone and become a grumpy old man.

He had a kingsflame on the table near him, their code to recognise each other at the restaurant. The fact that they knew very little about each other made him nervous. It was a recipe for disaster. He knew she was a personal shopper and that she liked movies and music. He was really dreading the encounter now, and started to realise that perhaps it had been a mistake. She could have lied.

Until he raised his head and he noticed the woman who had just entered the restaurant. He then spotted the flower pinned on her green dress as they had agreed. Gods, the woman was way too hot for him. There was a catch somewhere. His heart raced when realisation dawned on her face and she waved and started to walk to him. The smile. Damn, the smile could stop a man’s heart. The woman walking toward him was a goddess. He was expecting her to turn away for another table until she sat down in front of him at his table. Rowan was speechless.

“Sorry, I am late. Accident on the ring road. I stopped to give a hand to west station.” She used her hand to brush off the smudge of grease he had only just noticed she had.

“You stopped?”

“Yes,” she looked at him with a strange light in her eyes “I am a firefighter. I am the captain at east station.”

Rowan blinked twice. Shit. She was the wrong woman. She was not here for him. Of course. It was too good to be true. She had sat at the wrong table and a part of him was sad.

“I am Aelin.” she said and he knew that it had dawned on her as well that he was not her date “You are not Chaol.”

Rowan shook his head “I am Rowan.”

“Holy shit. I saw the kingsflame. The restaurant. And you smiled at me when I came in. I just assumed...” He did not want her to go.

“Ach, I was having second thoughts anyway.” He shrugged.

In that moment the waiter came and they were hesitant for a moment then Aelin grabbed the menu and started ordering, surprising him. Rowan got some wine for both and they placed as well their order.

“Our dates are late anyway. Maybe stuck in the horrendous traffic out there.”

“You will not hear me complain.” Said Rowan with a smile “so, you stopped and helped?”

Aelin nodded, sipping a bit of her wine “I couldn’t resist it. West station was there but there were so many cars involved that I had to something. The traffic wasn’t moving anyway.”

Rowan could not believe the woman in front of him. Not only she was a goddess. She had even stopped to help her colleagues save people from a car crash on her way to a date. Where had she been all his life?

The waiter came with their order and smiled at the expression of joy when Aelin looked at the amount of food in front of her. Another point for her. She had an appetite. He had no need of another date ordering a boring salad. He was a healthy eater but loved a woman with an appetite, especially because he loved cooking.

“So Rowan, what do you do?” She asked him while tackling the gigantic prawn on her seafood tagliatelle.

“I am an airforce pilot. I am a captain.”

Her face lit up “as in the uniform and all? And the awesome planes?”

Rowan nodded.

Aelin was about to take another sip of her wine when two figures stopped at their table. A brown-haired man and a blonde woman. Both had a kingsflames pinned on their dresses.

“Excuse me but you are with my date.” Said the stranger.

Rowan looked up from his risotto “finders keepers.”

“And he is my date.” Said the woman in a shrill voice.

“What he said.” Added Aelin while eating another prawn.

“We got stuck in traffic. There is a massive road accident on the ring road.” Chaol complained, not letting it go.

“Yeah I know. I stopped to help and I still made it here before you.”

“So what does this mean?” Asked Chaol.

Aelin stared at Rowan. It was a no brainer. Chaol was cute but Rowan was sex on two legs. Between the silver hair and the green eyes he ticked all of the boxes. And he was a pilot. Chaol was an accountant.

“You two can go on a date together.” She suggested and hoped they took the hint.

“That is rude.”

“Oh shoot,” said Aelin covering her mouth in fake surprise “I must have left the fucks I have to give in my bunker gear.”

Chaol looked at her aghast. The blonde woman turned on her heels and left.

“You missed an opportunity.” He added before he left as well.

As soon as he left Rowan burst into laughter and she joined him “no fucks to give…” he said trying to catch his breath “I have to steal this when my CO drives me nuts.”

“Ansel, one of my firefighters, she taught me that.”

“It’s fucking perfect.”

And both resumed their dinner without the awkwardness of a blind date. No stupid questions like how many siblings do you have or what is your favourite colour. No, with Rowan there had been a connection from the start and the joke had been the final proof.

“Most guys would have left running at my joke. I have a big and foul mouth. Not very lady-like.” She apologised. “I work in a male dominated place. Apart from Ansel and my two paramedics, I am surrounded by guys and well, they are not easily scared.”

Rowan chuckled “I am in the military. My CO uses fuck you as a term of endearment and one of my lieutenants has the record for the most innuendos in a sentence.”

“How many?” Asked Aelin curios.

“Ten.”

“No friggin’ way.”

Rowan nodded solemnly. Then looked at her and he was glad she sat at his table mistaking him for another man. They had known each other only for twenty minutes but he was dumbstruck by the woman.

She was fierce, intelligent and with a wicked sense of humour.

The meal had been perfect. Aelin had polished every single plate in front of her and also ordered dessert. And when she offered to pay for half the bill he had smiled. He had plenty of dates where the woman didn’t even offer. She took it for granted that he, being the man, was the one paying. He had no issues with that, he was happy to pay, but the fact that Aelin offered made him realise that she was different.

They left the restaurant and he gasped when he saw a red pickup reading Terrasen fire department on its livery, parked just outside the restaurant.

“Way to scare the patrons away.” He joked.

“Sorry. Yesterday I took a lift to work from a colleague and I forgot for a moment that I had a set the date for tonight after my shift. So I grabbed my work pickup to get here. I need to go back to the firehouse and return it.”

“I’ll follow, you drop off the pickup and then I drive you home.”

“I can take a cab, you don’t have to come all the way to the station and back.”

“Humour me,” he said giving her a beautiful smile and she accepted.

Ten minutes later they were at east station and she parked the pickup in its corner at the side and out of the way.

She saw Rowan getting off the car.

“Welcome to east station.” She said extending her arms. She pushed a button and the rolling doors slid up and two big trucks appeared in front of him. He had always wanted to see one up close.

“Cap,” said a man at her back “what are you doing here? I thought you were on a date?” He smiled “that bad? I told you accountants were a bad idea.”

Aelin laughed “looks like I got myself an airforce pilot instead.” She winked at him and Rowan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll tell you next shift, Pete. I just brought back the pickup before Dorian kills me.”

She waved at her relief captain and followed Rowan in his car and told him her address.

While he drove she studied him. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a shirt and a black leather jacket. She should have guessed he was military. Aedion had the same posture and he was ex-army.

“Which house?” Asked Rowan, waking her up from her thoughts.

“The one with the blue door.”

He parked and walked with her up to the door “I had so much fun tonight,” she said to him, not wanting him to leave her.

“I am so glad that you sat at the wrong table. This was the best blind date ever.” He looked at her and wanted to kiss her so badly but they had just met and he did not want to pass a a pig.

She moved a step toward him “I am glad too.” And her lips brushed his cheek in a kiss “perhaps we could go on a proper date. One where we are actually meant to meet each other.”

Rowan sighed relieved “It would make me very happy.”

Aelin rummaged in her bag until she found a pen then grabbed his wrist and pulled up his cuff a bit and wrote down two numbers.

“The first one is my personal mobile number. The second one is the direct number to my office. I am known to leave my mobile in my bunker gear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know a date and if I am not free we can find a better one. Us firefighters have crazy long shifts so I need to be off.”

He took her pen and her wrist and wrote his number “then you text me. A day that you are off shift. I work regular hours. This makes more sense.”

He took a step down from the few step and she hated the idea of him leaving.

“Goodnight, Rowan.” She opened the door and looked at him one last time.

Rowan waited for her to disappear behind the door and then went back to his car and was grateful for the best blind mistake of his life.

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #fluff

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curlynerd · 3 years

Text

Just Say It

Happy gift posting day for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! I had two assignees, so I'm posting two fics today! My 2nd gift recipient is @deanwinchesteradjacent! She requested canon-adjacent Destiel with fluff, action, and a happy ending. I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 7.5K Rating: T Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong? Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Dean is bad at feelings, case fic, beach fic.

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

“Those fancy hair products? Cuz there’s just. So. Many--”

“Dean! I’ve lived my whole life on the road. I know how to pack a damn dufflebag!”

Dean smirked, unperturbed by Sam’s whining. “Yeah but Eileen is a classy lady. She’s not gonna put up with your usual road stank.”

Sam sighed in annoyance as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’m not the one who wears his underwear three days in a row, jerk.”

“Better leave that attitude at home, bitch,” Dean said cheerfully. “It’s your anniversary, after all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a shy grin despite his best efforts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, letting Dean have one last bit of fun before he left. “You and Cas too. Don’t get into trouble.” He nodded in farewell before he climbed the stairs to the bunker door.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Sam paused at the top of the stairs and turned around. Almost like he could sense what was coming, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. Dean hucked a box up to the landing, and Sam fumbled to catch it. Dean flashed a shit-eating grin as Sam read the Trojan label and fixed him with a scowl. “Make sure you wrap it before you tap it, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

Dean laughed to himself as he turned back to his laptop, scrolling through news articles looking for a hunt. He was still at it an hour later when Cas came shuffling into the room still in his pajamas, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean crooned cheerfully. Cas’ hair was in wild disarray, and between that and his worn, brown sweatshirt and loose pajama bottoms, he looked more like a bear stumbling out of hibernation than a guy just waking up. “Sam already left.”

Cas set a mug down in front of Dean before slumping down into the chair beside him. “I hope he and Eileen have fun this week,” he mumbled as he hunched over his coffee.

Dean smiled at how adorable Cas looked, all grumpy and sleep-ruffled. He was still an angel...somewhat. He had Grace, if only a little. So close to mortality, Cas often needed mundane human things like sleep and food. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. In fact, he was so irritated about the whole thing that Dean hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to invite him to sleep in his room, instead of alone. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe after this case, things would change.

“Are you looking up a case?” Cas asked, tilting toward Dean’s screen.

“Uh...yeah.” With forced casualness, Dean turned the laptop so Cas could read a headline from last year: “Gruesome Death at Bed and Breakfast Leaves Locals Worried.” “Over the past forty years, there’ve been six deaths at this B&B. All either heart attacks or a brain hemorrhage. All without a scratch on ‘em. Always a couple. Always on the same night: this Friday. That sure screams ‘ghost’ to me.”

“Key West?” Cas asked as he scanned the article. “Florida? That’s quite a drive.”

Dean shrugged. His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “It is, but hell, why not? Sam gets the week off with Eileen, why can’t we have a little vacation too?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He was suspicious. Was a little time off really so bad? “You haven’t taken a vacation the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean struggled to come up with a good excuse. “That was, ya know. Before.”

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Before everything.” He gestured around his head. Before Cas told him he loved him and immediately died. Before Dean rescued him from The Empty. Before they wound up in this awkward, stilted Angel’s-First-Romance training wheels relationship Dean found them in.

That seemed to placate Cas. He nodded and took another sip of coffee. “The beach would be nice…”

Dean broke into a grin. “Better than nice! Toes in the sand, drinks with little umbrellas… That’s better than paradise.” He gave Cas’ shoulder a friendly pat. Then--because he could, couldn’t he?--Dean let his hand run along the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and gently cup the back of his neck.

This was okay, right? He’d held back on any sort of real PDA because of how uncomfortable Cas would act. And that was okay. He understood. Angels and intimacy...Well, angels just worked differently than humans. And it was all new to Cas! It took him over a decade to say he loved Dean. It would probably take awhile before he was ready to hold hands.

But this wasn’t very much, right? Just a light hand on the back of his neck. This was about as innocent as things got!

Except Cas went stiff under Dean, and Dean took the hint and pulled his hand away as he bit back a sigh. So much for that.

His eyes trailed back to his laptop. Hopefully this getaway would change things, help Cas loosen up and finally see that they could act even a little like a couple now. A romantic beach, warm sunshine, half-naked romps in the water, a cozy and only slightly haunted bed and breakfast…

What could go wrong?

----

Three days and one slightly terrifying highway over the ocean later, Dean and Cas pulled into a parking space for a charming bed and breakfast painted in a lovely pale--

“Lavender?” Dean balked at the decidedly dainty color of the siding. “I know they like their pastels here, but geez…”

“It’s just a paint color,” Cas said as he crossed around to the trunk and started unloading their bags. The duffle full of salt, shotguns, and various iron weapons clanked ominously. He shouldered it carefully so it wouldn’t make so much noise.

“This whole street is like friggin’ Candy Land.” Dean eyeballed the canary yellow house across the street suspiciously as they made their way to the front door.

The inside was clearly the result of a scandalous love affair between a Jimmy Buffet concert and a Hallmark store--All tacky tropical themed furniture and a dizzying array of porcelain figurines.

Dean grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Cas. At Cas’ inquisitive eyebrow, Dean nodded his head to a shelf full of long-haired, sad-eyed blonde angels. Cas rolled his eyes while Dean laughed to himself.

“Hello! Can I help you?” An older woman sat behind a small reception desk, smiling warmly at them in the glow of her ancient computer.

Dean put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Yes you can. Hi, I’m Dean, and this is my, uh…” Dean glanced over to Cas and his eyes crinkled in delight. “Cas. This is my boyfriend, Cas.” Just the word caused a giddy bubble of effervescence to float inside Dean’s chest. After all this time, they were really here. This was real.

Cas offered the receptionist a small, tight smile before turning his studious gaze to the figurines on the wall shelves. The woman furrowed her brow, so Dean charged forward with the conversation before Cas’ awkwardness put her off. If they were going to pry into the case here, they needed her to be friendly with them. “I booked a reservation for this weekend. It--Are you guys still open? It’s kinda quiet in here.” Dean glanced around the empty living space. There weren’t any other cars parked outside either.

The woman waved off his concerns. “Oh yes, it’s just the off season right now. Some weekends are like that.” She spoke a little too quickly as she clicked through her computer. Dean suspected all the news articles about bloody deaths had something to do with it. “Not hard to find your reservation. You’re our only guests tonight.” She grabbed two keys off a hook and held them out for Dean. “You’ll be in room 4, down at the end of the hallway upstairs. It’s the largest one. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know. I’m Susan.”

Sensing they were about to be dismissed, Dean swerved into a distraction. “You know, we’ve been on the road for ages. Do you have any coffee or anything like that? A little wakeup before we hit the beach?”

Susan pushed back from the desk. “Oh of course! I was about to get some for myself, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Cas,” Dean muttered as Susan disappeared down a hallway. “Anything out of place or really old. You know, haunted stuff.” Cas nodded, and Dean covertly pulled his EMF reader out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on. It was silent. They both made a pass of the room, pretending to look around.

“Here we are!” Susan said brightly, expertly holding three coffee mugs in her hands. Dean jumped a little and hastily put his device away before turning around. “I hope cream and sugar is okay.”

“Any caffeine is fine,” he assured her as he and Cas took their mugs. “So Susan, what is there to do around here? You know, other than what Yelp says. The insider’s scoop.” Dean winked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Susan smiled. “Well, if nightlife is your thing, there are some great spots within walking distance.”

Dean chuckled. “C’mon, Susan. Does this guy look like much of a dancer?” He grinned fondly at Cas as he draped his arm over his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much his stomach fluttered from the small action, but dammit, after all they’d been through to get here, Dean had earned a few butterflies. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder even though Cas didn’t really react. Dean was definitely going to have to clarify that the personal space rule didn’t apply anymore.

“Well, the restaurant down the street also does an excellent brunch,” Susan offered instead.

“Now that’s more our speed.” Maybe if the hunt went well they could actually stay the night, instead of getting the hell out of Dodge before the cops chased them down. Keep their salt and burn quiet and enjoy a nice night in. Dean tried not to get his hopes up for sharing a bed with Cas.

And he did mean sharing a bed. Things were moving so slowly between him and Cas he’d be thrilled just to spoon, nevermind anything else. Dean bit back a sigh as he swept over all of the knick-knacks and decorations, hoping for some sort of clue as to the identity of their ghost. “I’ve gotta say, I love the decor. Is all of this your collection?” Maybe a haunted object? Or a cursed one?

“Most of it.” A faint twinge of wistfulness colored Susan’s words as she looked over the porcelain figurines. “My Marcy liked to collect the angels, but that was years and years ago.”

On a high shelf was a large urn next to an oil painting of a young woman that immediately pinged Dean’s hunter’s instincts. “That’s a lovely painting over there,” he said, catching Cas’ eye meaningfully. Cas turned around to look too.

Susan’s face melted into a quiet, sad smile. “Yes, that’s my Marcy right there. A self-portrait. She was such a talented artist.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was your...wife?” he guessed.

Susan’s face crumpled. “No. No we were never…” She took a deep breath and continued in a steadier tone. “She was my business partner, but I loved her. Very much. And I knew she loved me too. So I suppose you could say we were almost together. Should have been together.” Her lower lip trembled.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what stopped you?” Dean felt bad for pressing her for information that was clearly upsetting, but people’s lives were at stake. Possibly Susan’s own.

Susan curled her hands around her mug, staring into the steaming coffee with a far off look in her eyes. “I was afraid. Of my own feelings. Of opening myself to getting hurt. So I...When Marcy needed me to be honest about how I felt I...I let her down. She got mad...We fought...She ran off. There was an accident, and...Well...” Susan took another deep breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears and heavy with regret. “Today is the anniversary of the day she died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dean said, injecting even more sincerity into his words even though he expected as much. Marcy was the best lead so far. Was she attacking people on the anniversary of her death? She was obviously cremated, but perhaps there was something keeping her tied here?

“Not your fault,” she said with the heaviness of one who had heard those words hundreds of times. She shook her head. “You’re not the reason she--” Susan cut herself off and swallowed down her tears. Despite her best efforts, a single tear trailed down her cheek.

“It sounds like you loved her very much,” Cas said, his voice infused with genuine sympathy.

“She was my world. I loved her more than she’ll ever know...” Again Susan fell silent, this time lost in thought.

Then, with a deep, resettling breath, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her finger and forced a cheerful expression. “But enough of that. You’re my guests. You don’t need to hear all of that! Do you need anything while you get settled in? More towels? Recommendations for restaurants?”

Dean shook his head, “Appreciate it ma’am, but we’ll probably just grab whatever’s convenient around here.”

“Well, would you like to eat here? Usually I don’t serve dinner for guests, but since it’s only the two of you, I can cook up something if you’d like. I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Sensing another opportunity to interview Susan, Dean smiled his very best ‘comforting the bereaved’ smile. “We’d like that very much, Susan. Thank you for offering.” Then, carefully timed almost like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and what’s the wifi password?”

Upstairs their room was somewhat small but airy. The walls were a crisp, breezy blue, the linens bright white. There was even a gauzy white canopy draped around the four-poster bed. Dean grinned. One bed. Surely that was cause for some optimism about tonight.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster as he grabbed the weapons bag off Cas’ shoulder and deposited it on the duvet. “What about you? Think you’ll need a couple z’s?” ‘Please say yes.’

Cas eyed the bed. Something strange flickered across his face. Something heavy, even sad. Dean immediately felt like a jackass for reminding Cas about his weak Grace. “I mean, who knows how you’ll feel tonight,” Dean added hastily. He started digging through his bag for his laptop. “Get some sea air in your lungs, and you might wake right up.”

Cas pursed his lips. “I suppose so,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. He turned away from Dean and started roaming the room, looking over the artwork on the walls and the little beachy decorations on the furniture. He came to a stop.

“This looks like Susan and Marcy,” he said, letting his fingers trail along the frame of a painting over the dresser.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up from his booting laptop. It was an oil painting like the one downstairs, with a young couple in bright dresses making each other laugh in front of a backdrop of a stormy gray ocean. One was undeniably a much younger Susan. Marcy looked the same as she did in the painting downstairs.

Cas frowned a little and pulled his hand back from the frame. He glanced around the ceiling and only relaxed when he saw an air-conditioning vent gently humming nearby. Dean shrugged it off and turned back to his laptop. He set right to work searching through the local newspaper archives and breaking into the coroner’s office servers. Finding their ghost was only a matter of time.

“Got it. Marcy Daniels. Died forty-three years ago tonight.” Dean flipped his laptop around so Cas could read the news article. “Hit by a car. Right outside this house. Died before she even got to the hospital.”

Cas squinted at the screen. The photo attached to the article looked just like the woman in the paintings. “And you think she’s the ghost?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems as good a guess as any. Violent death. Susan said they were fighting right before. Probably something happened between them that left Marcy pissed off enough to stay in the veil.”

Cas nodded. “We should ask her about it.”

“Nah, she’s not gonna let us grill her about her dead partner like that. We’ll strike up a conversation at dinner. That should give us enough time to figure out what’s keeping Marcy here before she attacks tonight.”

Cas deferred to Dean’s hunting experience. “Well then what should we do until then?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “What do you think we should do? To the beach!”

---

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala and straightened his back, lifting his face to the breeze blowing in from the sea. He breathed in deeply. “God, smell that salt air…” he said with a wistful smile. When he turned to Cas, the angel was looking at him with fondness, warmth making his blue eyes brighter. Dean’s smile grew, and he lifted up his sunglasses to flash Cas a playful wink. Cas quickly ducked his head and started walking.

Dean bit back a groan as he followed behind him with their beach bag. What was he doing wrong? He was trying to be gentle, to give Cas enough space to adjust to the idea that they were together now on his own. After all of the crap they’d been through together, after so many things keeping them apart, he understood why Cas was struggling. Hell, he’d been squashing down his feelings for so long, Cas probably didn’t know how to let himself have this happiness.

At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself. Deep down, though, he was afraid that Cas’ feelings were changing.

“There’s a good spot,” Dean said, jogging up behind Cas and forcing down his depressing thoughts before they could meet up with his self-loathing and really cause problems. He grabbed Cas’ arm and tugged him toward an unoccupied part of the sand. The weather was a little too temperamental this time of year to attract huge crowds, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine.

Cas let himself be led, his flip-flops flapping awkwardly over the sand. Dean laughed a little, even though his footing wasn’t much better. When they’d walked far enough away from the boardwalk, Dean unceremoniously dropped their bag and dug out a large blanket to lay out.

“Perfect,” he declared as he tipped up his sunglasses to survey his work. He plopped down on the blanket and shucked off his shirt. A quick glance up let him catch the way Cas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed over. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, but he didn’t see because he turned around like a friggin’ Victorian lady in order to pull off his own shirt before he sat down in front of Dean, facing the ocean. Dean’s gaze swept down the broad, muscular expanse of Cas’ back, and he could barely contain the heat in his eyes and in his grin.

Only then did Cas glance over his shoulder and catch Dean’s eye. Dean bit his lip suggestively, his grin widening, but Cas’ cheeks turned lightly pink and turned his head away. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Nervous, huh? Well that was alright. Dean could lighten the mood.

He held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, let’s spackle your back.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Dean,” Cas said, not turning around. His voice sounded even more gruff than usual, which was certainly saying something.

“Nonsense!” Dean was already squirting a healthy dollop of sunscreen in his palm. “You can get sunburned, same as the rest of us.”

Cas sighed heavily. His shoulders twitched, tense, but he didn’t protest when Dean slapped his hand at the middle of his back.

Dean set to work rubbing the cream into Cas’ warm skin. “See? This is nice. It’s like a mini-massage.” He made sure to move slowly, almost caressing him. His stomach fluttered with the faintest whisper of excitement. This was the closest thing he’d gotten to action in months, after all. And Cas’ back was nice. Broad and firm and far more muscular than Dean would have guessed. His heart did a little tapdance at knowing that he was allowed to freely ogle now.

“I like seeing you out of the trenchcoat,” Dean said, now using both hands to stroke up and down Cas’ skin. Cas tensed again. “I mean, you look good under all those layers,” Dean said hastily, afraid that the reminder of his waning Grace was too painful. “When did you get so beefy?” Dean slid his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and then down his thick arms. He squeezed them playfully as he shifted closer, letting his knees bump against him.

He leaned in close so he could almost whisper, “Wish I could see it somewhere other than the beach.”

Cas’ back became hard as marble. He lowered his head. “That’s enough, Dean,” he said softly. His voice trembled with some barely contained emotion Dean didn’t understand.

Disappointment rose up Dean’s throat like bile. “Seriously? I’m almost done!”

Cas twisted around, his face pulled into a scowl. His cheeks were flushed. “Dean! I’m an angel! I don’t need this!”

Dean pulled back. “What? I can’t even put sunscreen on you now?” he demanded.

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He only glared, his eyes flickering with something Dean couldn’t quite figure out. Pain? Longing? Regret?

Knowing Dean’s penchant for screwing things up all the time, it was almost certainly the latter.

Cas breathed out a long, frustrated breath and rose to his feet. “I’m...going for a walk,” he said. He folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. What had he done wrong? Why was Cas so mad?

Cas shook his head. “Please, Dean.” With one last glance filled with that strange, heartache-inducing emotion, Cas turned and started walking down the beach alone.

Dean stared after him as he left. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. The sting of rejection quietly throbbed in his chest as he turned his gaze to the ocean. What had he done to piss Cas off? Had he really crossed a boundary, or was something else wrong? Cas had been so weird since he’d been back. Shouldn’t he be happy? Hell, telling Dean he loved him was the happiest Cas had ever been, right? That was part of his deal with The Empty!

Did he regret it? Did he change his mind? Maybe Cas really didn’t want to have Dean. Not for real. Maybe that was why Cas never told him how he felt before. He had to have known Dean loved him long before his deal with The Empty came along. Maybe there was a reason Cas hadn’t said anything about it before.

Maybe Cas knew that Dean would screw things up if they got together. Maybe he was trying to pull away from Dean, make it easier to break things off when it all came crashing down.

Dean stewed in his thoughts, his expression dark as he watched the waves. He lost track of time until a pair of children came racing past him, screaming in delight and startling him out of his thoughts. He pulled at his phone to glance at the time. Cas had been gone over half an hour. Way too long. Dean looked down the beach, almost expecting to see Cas trudging back up the beach back to him, but he didn’t see any sign of him. But Cas couldn’t have left left. Dean had the car keys! Quietly cursing, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’ number.

...And heard a familiar ringtone coming out of their bag.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled as he hung up. He stood up, but he still couldn’t see Cas. Had something happened? What if he’d gone in the water? What if he’d gotten pulled out to sea by a riptide? Despite knowing Cas didn’t even know how to swim, worry dripped ice cold down Dean’s spine, and before he knew it he was walking down the beach along the path Cas had taken.

“Cas!” he called out, but he didn’t see him. Dean started walking faster. He scanned the beach for a familiar dark head of hair and the bright orange swim trunks Dean had picked out for him. “CAS!” He was beginning to fear the worst.

“You lookin’ for someone?” a concerned voice called out. Dean whipped his head around to a small family sitting underneath an umbrella.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my buddy Cas.” Dean jogged over to them. “You see him walk by? Kinda beefy, kinda dorky. Dark hair, orange trunks, about yea high.” He held his palm flat about eye level.

The woman who spoke nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I saw him walking back toward town, though.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Dean furrowed his brow. Did Cas walk back on his own? Irritation flared in his chest as he forced a cordial smile and thanked the woman before jogging back the way he came. He didn’t see any sign of Cas back at their blanket either.

Dean scowled. Maybe he had walked back. Running off without a word was infuriatingly in-character for him. Dean cursed under his breath as he hastily packed up their things and started stomping up the beach toward the car.

What was even such a big deal? If Cas supposedly loved him so much, was rubbing his back that bad? Dean was trying to give him space, he really was, but the way Cas was acting, it was like he didn’t even like Dean, nevermind love him!

The thought clenched tight around Dean’s heart as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe Cas was getting sick of him. Twelve years in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maybe what angels considered love and what humans considered love was just different.

Dark thoughts still swirled in Dean’s head as he returned to the bed and breakfast and marched up the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Dean charged into their room, anger burning hot as his glare zeroed in on the angel sitting in a chair. “You can’t just go running off like that! You left your phone behind!”

Cas carefully closed the book he was reading. He was fully clothed again. “It’s not a long walk back here. I assumed you’d know where I’d gone.”

“I was worried sick about you! What if you went in the ocean and something happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t swim.”

“You can’t just go stomping off whenever you get mad!”

Cas closed his eyes. “I’m not mad,” he said, though the growl in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Like hell you’re not!” Dean shot back. “So what is it? I can’t touch you now? It’s freakin’ sunscreen, Cas. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Cas’ eyes flew open. “Yes!” he said, deeply pained. “Dean, does it really matter so little to you that you’re okay with just ignoring it?”

Dean was brought up short. “Does what matter?”

“Me!” Cas plastered his hand over his chest. He almost looked like he could cry. “I told you how I felt and you insist on acting like nothing happened!”

Dean blinked. “What? That’s...that’s not true, Cas!”

“Dean! You didn’t say anything! Not once since you brought me back, have you said anything about the fact that I love you! And you may think that by ignoring it and trying to force things back the way they were before that you can lock up that Pandora’s Box again, but you can’t! I can’t. I can’t…”

Dean took a step forward, his expression darkening with confusion. “Cas, what’re you talking about?” He didn’t understand. Why did Cas look so hurt? So heartbroken? Cas loved him. Dean loved Cas. So why wasn’t he happy? What had Dean done wrong? “Cas, I--”

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

They both went tense and still as they noticed just how cold the room had gotten. The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the open dufflebag on their bed with all of their weapons.

He made a move for it, but a figure flickered into being in front of him. She was wearing a torn, bloody sundress. Her long, straw-colored hair was plastered to the half of her gaunt face where it was smashed in, blood staining it crimson. The ghost took a step toward Dean. Thick, dark blood dripped from her head but never reached the floor.

“Marcy,” Dean breathed. Guess she didn’t need to wait for nightfall after all.

“Coward,” the ghost menaced as she took another step closer. Dean carefully backed up. “Can’t even say it. Even when you’re hurting him. Coward!”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas, who was edging toward their weapons bag. He tried to make the movement quick, but the ghost noticed. With a vicious growl she flung out her hand and Cas went flying into the far wall.

“Don’t worry,” the ghost said to Cas, and the venom in her voice dropped into twisted sympathy. “I’ll take your pain away soon.”

Cas struggled to his feet as the ghost rounded on Dean again. Her outstretched hand aimed directly at Dean’s head, fingers curled into a wicked claw. But before she could touch him, Cas made another attempt at the duffle. She shrieked in fury and sent it spinning through the air toward the window. A single iron poker tumbled out of the open zipper as it flipped over and smashed against the glass, shattering it. The bag tumbled to the ground below.

Cas lurched for the poker. “Dean!” he called as he tossed it through the air, directly through the ghost. She howled and dissipated into smoke while Dean barely managed to close his fingers around the weapon. Cas and Dean stood back to back as they circled the room, Dean holding the iron poker at the ready.

“Salt,” Dean barked. “We need salt!” Except all of theirs was now two stories below. Dean silently cursed. “The kitchen! Go! I’m right behind you!”

Cas nodded and made for the door. The lights were flickering again. He and Dean narrowly made it into the hallway when their bedroom door slammed shut behind them. They raced for the stairs and nearly collided with Susan.

“Cas, Dean, what’s going on?” Her eyes were panicked, taking in the cut on Cas’ temple and the iron poker in Dean’s grip. Mist followed her words out of her mouth.

“Look out!” Dean reached for Susan, but he was flung backward by an invisible force. Marcy flickered into existence over him again. “Salt, Susan! We need salt!” he cried out before the ghost clamped its cold hand around his throat. Dean scrambled from his poker, but it had fallen just out of reach. His other hand grappled with Marcy’s, trying to pull it away.

He couldn’t see with the ghost pinning him down, but he was pretty sure he heard Susan’s footsteps racing away. Good. Even if she didn’t come back, at least she was somewhere safer. Black dots started to swim in Dean’s vision.

“Hey! Marcy!” A ceramic angel went flying through the air and smashed into a framed photo on the wall next to them, shattering the glass. Marcy snarled and whipped her head around. Her grip on Dean’s neck loosened a little, and Dean sucked in as many painful gasps as he could get.

“This is what you’re about, huh?” Cas goaded. He stood next to an accent table full of figurines, another ceramic angel in his hand, fat load of good that would do against a ghost. “Exacting revenge against shitty lovers?” Dean stretched his arm until his muscles strained. He could barely feel the length of the iron rod brush against his fingertips. If Cas could keep stalling for just a little longer... “I think anger has clouded your judgement.” Cas’ lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “You have no reason to attack Dean. Can’t you tell? He doesn’t love me.”

The statement caught Dean completely off-guard. His hand stilled as he gaped at Cas. “What?” he rasped around the ghostly hand on his throat. Didn’t love him!?

The ghost growled at Cas. She raised her arm as if to psychically toss him toward the stairway, but right at that moment, Susan barreled up the stairs, a blue canister of salt in her hand.

“I have the salt!” she said, and with panic and desperation in her eyes she blindly flung the open canister at Dean and the ghost. Salt flung in a wide arc and rained down on Marcy, who screamed and disappeared instantly.

Dean rolled onto his side, coughing weakly as he grabbed onto the iron poker and clutched it against his chest. Cas ran to him, only stopping to grab the canister of salt. He hastily drew a circle around them, draining the last of the salt on their protection ring. “Susan, get in the circle!” he commanded as he knelt beside Dean.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean choked out between gasps for air. His head was spinning. Cas’ hand on his shoulder helped a lot, but when Dean asked his question Cas quickly yanked it away. “How could you think that?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What’s going on? Why did that...that thing look like my Marcy?!” Susan nearly flung herself into the circle with them. She clutched at her chest, casting her terrified gaze around the room.

“Her ghost,” Cas said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Dean. His brow furrowed. “Dean, you haven’t--”

“Ghost?!” Susan screeched. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here?!”

“Salt repels ghosts,” Cas replied with way more patience than Dean would have had. “She can’t come into the circle.”

“What’s going on?” Susan’s eyes went huge, her face going pale. “She...She killed those people last year, didn’t she? How do we stop her?”

“Usually burn her remains, if anything is left,” Cas said, “but she was cremated, wasn’t she? So something else is tethering her here. Perhaps a locket? Something she cherishes.”

Susan frowned, panicked eyes darting around in front of her as she mulled it over. “Her painting,” she said with a gasp. “The one in your room. She finished it right before our argument! Right before she ran out into the street and was hit by the car. It was precious to her. She put her everything into it, tried to use it to confess her love for me, and I...I was too much of a coward to say it back. That’s why we fought.”

Cas and Dean’s eyes met, and they both nodded. Dean grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, poker still clutched to his chest. “Susan, stay here. Whatever happens, don’t leave the circle. Cas, I’ll keep her busy. You burn the painting.”

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

Immediately the hallway burst into chaos. Doors slammed shut everywhere. The knick-knacks and travel guides on the accent table went flying through the air. The lights flickered until their bulbs burst, leaving only the light of the window at the far end to help them see.

They ran.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean demanded, because a deadly ghost hunt seemed as good a time as any to have this conversation. Some things were too damn important to wait for downtime.

“Because you don’t!” Cas snapped. He threw himself at the shut door of their room, but it was supernaturally sealed. He grunted and tried again. Marcy appeared at his side, a ghostly hand reaching for his chest, a snarl on her lips.

“Cas, of course I love you, you idiot!” Dean swung at Marcy, forcing her to disappear again. Cas slammed himself against the unmoving door. “How could you think I don’t?”

“Dean, I died--” Cas slammed into the door again. His eyes glowed faintly with his weakened Grace. “Telling you how I felt. And you said--” Another crash; the door cracked ominously. “Nothing about it since I’ve been back!”

Marcy flickered into being next to them again. Dean knocked her away with the poker.

“I thought you knew! I thought you didn’t love me and that’s why you never said anything!”

“I told you!” With one final crash, Cas burst through the door and into the room, Dean hot on his heels. They ran for the dresser. “I told you the one thing I wanted, I couldn’t have! That thing was you, Dean!” Cas yanked the painting off the wall and threw it on the ground, shattering its glass and exposing the paper.

Marcy screamed in fury and appeared in front of him. She flung him at the dresser just as Dean dispersed her with a forceful swing. He flipped the poker in his hand, readying himself to strike again while Cas scrambled to his feet, lighter freed from his pocket and held at the ready.

“Because of the Empty!” Dean insisted. Marcy’s form materialized again, and Dean raised his weapon as she approached. “You couldn’t have me because of the deal with the Empty!”

Cas fumbled with the lighter. “I can’t have you because. You. Don’t. Love me!” It finally lit. Cas threw it onto the painting, sending it up in flames.

Marcy howled in agony as her body sparked and burned. She raised her head skyward as if to escape from the rising flames, but in a flash of heat and bright orange light, she was gone, and Cas and Dean were left standing alone in the room.

They stared at each other in the sudden, violent silence. Cas’ face was a mask of frustration and pain.

“Dean, I’ve been back for months. Months. And you have said nothing about how you feel. Do not lie to me now because you feel sorry for me.” With one last heartbroken glare, Cas stomped out of the room, leaving Dean behind to stamp out the flaming remains of the painting.

Once Dean didn’t need to worry about burning the house down, he went looking for Cas. He found him outside, loading up their scattered weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

He looked shattered. His face was crumpled with pain, his eyes dull, deep furrows in his brow. It brought Dean up short. Guilt welled up so intense that Dean almost couldn’t say anything at all. Except, well, that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

“I thought you knew,” Dean called across the distance between them. Cas stopped and turned to look at him. The bitterness in his eyes made Dean’s stomach churn. “I thought you knew,” he said again. He took a step toward Cas. “For years I thought you knew. But, you know, you’re an angel. I thought you didn’t...I thought you couldn’t…” He trailed off. Cas’ forehead was furrowed in confusion, but he was at least listening, so Dean swallowed down his discomfort and barreled forward. “I thought angels couldn’t fall in love. Except...then you died telling me you did. Telling me that the reason you couldn’t even tell me how you felt was because being happy would trigger your deal and…” He shrugged.

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

“Because if you told me you felt the same, then we’d be together and you’d be happy and you’d die.”

The bitterness had faded from Cas’ eyes, replaced with something that Dean was loath to acknowledge looked a little bit like pity mixed with profound frustration. “So when I came back, you thought there wasn’t anything left to talk about?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took another step forward. “Yeah well…What else was there to say? You said you, you know, loved me. And I thought you knew that I, you know…” He trailed off.

“Dean.” Dean had never heard Cas sound so pained just saying his name. “You.” Cas scrubbed at his face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to find words for all the ways Dean had screwed up. Was continuing to screw up.

“The hoops that you jump through to avoid talking about your feelings astound me,” Cas finally said. He dropped his hand with a sigh of defeat, and Dean’s heart sank. This was it. The death rattles of a relationship that hadn’t even really started. Dean never had what he truly wanted, and he never would.

Dean ducked his head, unable to look Cas in the eye. “Right. Yeah. That’s me, alright.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. The long drive back to Kansas was going to be awful.

“Say it,” Cas said softly. His words were a command, but when Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes were pleading. “Please,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t deserve to even ask, and something inside Dean cracked.

“I love you, Cas.” One step, two steps, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around Cas’ shoulders, clinging to him the way he wished he could have before the Empty took Cas away. “It’s you, Cas. It can only be you. It’s only been you for years. I promise.”

Cas’ next breath stuttered in his lungs. His arms wound tightly around Dean, desperate. “Dean,” he sighed, this time like a prayer.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Dean held him tightly, the way he should have when he first got Cas back from the Empty. The way Dean wanted to all these months when he thought...Well, when he was an idiot. “You can have me, you know. You already have me.”

Cas pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. His eyes were glassy. Dean’s didn’t exactly feel dry either. ‘I wonder if I can kiss him,’ Dean thought, milliseconds before Cas did just that.

Cas’ lips were warm against his own, and Dean gasped softly as his hand wound through Cas’ thick hair to cradle the back of his head. His kiss was eager, if not clumsy, and Dean smiled a little as he let Cas take the lead anyway. When they finally pulled apart, Cas’ normally pale lips were flushed pink, and Dean’s soft smile morphed into a huge, affectionate grin.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly husky after a largely innocent kiss.

Cas smiled back. “Hello, Dean,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. God, how he loved this angel.

“So whadya say, Cas?” Dean said when his laughter quieted. “Ready to get the hell outta Dodge?”

Cas’ hands slid down Dean’s back until they were resting on his hips. “Actually…” His gaze turned wistfully in the direction of the distant beach. “I had a different idea.”

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Cuz I mean, I want to respect your boundaries.”

“Dean!”

“And I totally understand if I’m crossing a line here.”

Cas twisted around and gave Dean and his closed bottle of sunscreen a baleful look. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “If I get sunburned, you can get your own room tonight.”

“You’re probably not even going to sleep anyway,” Dean shot back.

“I’ll sleep just to spite you.” Cas scowled, but Dean could see the corners of his lips twitching playfully. With a rush of affection, Dean shifted so that Cas’ bare back was pressed against his chest and Dean could rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder. Cas went stiff against his body, but it only lasted a second before he practically melted into Dean’s hold. Dean wrapped his arms around him as he watched the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said with a sigh.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the sea.

Heat rushed to Dean’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze solidly on the ocean. “You’re such a sap,” he grumbled weakly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dean could see Cas’ smirk in the corner of his eye. Dean tightened his embrace.

“I dunno if I ever will,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he finally got to hold his angel.

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #userstarry #deanwinchesteradjacent #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #katie writes things #long post

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years

Text

The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

This is a request for anon, who asked:

i don’t know if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do one where the reader has tattoos that dean doesn’t know about and then he sees them when he has to stitch them up after a hunt? (maybe like season 1 or 2 dean) thank you!!!

And then wrote to me privately that they have a dragon tattoo on one shoulder.

It was a lot of fun to write; tons of opportunities to slip in some good classic rock references! I miss in the super early seasons when Sam and Dean seemed to rag on each other pretty much constantly. I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Title: The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2589

Summary: Dean is surprised to discover the reader has tattoos.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence/mention of blood, swearing, fluff!!

Sam moves to the middle of the front bench to shuck off his coat as Dean is getting out of the car, and gives it to you with a long arm over the leather. “Can you hand me that blue jacket?”

You have to over-rotate to use your other hand to grab it, keeping your grip tight on your own shirt in the most bastardized version of a sling. Sam, of course, notices.

“You think it’s broken or dislocated?”

A hard chuckle blows out of your nose. “Really hope it’s just dislocated, I’ll tell you that.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile as he throws on the blue jacket and zips it all the way up to his neck. It looks like he’s covering something up and naturally, he is, thin hoodie and t shirt underneath drenched with enough werewolf blood that it’s clinging to his chest almost pornographically. But his face is untouched and he has use of both his arms which is more than can be said for you or Werewolf Shiner Winchester, making him the only reasonable choice to send for gauze and ACE bandages at the closest pharmacy.

Dean stops his grimace-covered stretching just outside the car and opens your door with an outstretched hand as Sam slides into the driver’s seat. “You coming?”

Taking his hand with your good one, you let Dean close the door behind you without any of the normal grumbling about treating you like you’re made of porcelain, in an effort to keep your face neutral around the jolts of pain through your shoulder. Sam pulls out of the motel parking lot ultra-gently like it’s his first day with a learner’s permit the way he does when he knows Dean is watching. It makes you smile to yourself as exhaust dissipates across the cracked blacktop.

Crossing the asphalt with tired strides Dean opens the motel door for you too, and you walk in before him. “Is that yours?” he asks, dropping his coat on the cheap couch and wincing through the removal of his flannel. In the light of the room you’re better able to see his black eye and realize it’s going to take weeks for that to go away, not relishing another inevitable conversation about makeup to sell a G-man cover story. It makes it so much easier for the families of victims to believe you’re legit when none of you look like you’ve been in a bar fight, but getting Dean to believe cover-up is in the name of the greater good is an uphill battle on the best of days.

“Is what mine?”

“The blood you’re covered in like nacho cheese. Dude, if that’s all over the car—”

He deserves credit for trying not to smile as you try to look over your shoulder like a puppy chasing its tail, but he does guide you over to the mirror on the wall to see. He’s right, blood has seeped all down your coat, sticky and shiny like syrup. It’s far too wet to be from near 30 minutes ago when you got in the car. “Fuck, I really like this jacket.”

“You have like 5 just like it taking up space in my trunk; you’ll live. Here, take that off, I’ll stitch you up.” Dean starts rifling through his bag for supplies, rolling some kinks out of his neck.

“It doesn’t even hurt, I just need you to pop my shoulder back in so I can take a shower.”

“I don’t give a shit what hurts, slugger. You’re going to pass out in the tub if you keep up the stuck pig act.”

You roll your eyes and reluctantly try to slide your arms out of the jacket, wincing when you jostle the dislocated arm. Dean takes the sopping coat from you and tosses it into the kitchenette sink from where he stands, the concern coloring his face when you look back at him not reassuring you at all. He puts the floss-threaded needle he’d had in his hand between his teeth and starts pulling on your collar.

“Shoulder first,” you insist, done wiggling and writhing out of clothes before your shoulder is where it belongs.

Dean’s mouth tightens into a firm line but he backs up to give himself enough room to shove, an exasperated hand beckoning you. “Okay, you ready?” he says around the needle, looking like a farmer field medic with a piece of hay.

“Yeah just let me—FUCK,” you grunt when he catches you off guard without any preamble, clutching at the shoulder for a moment until you could take a deep breath. You do a test rotation and are happy at the relative lack of pain, trying not to be frustrated that Dean didn’t warn you so you wouldn’t tense up.

“Shirt off.” Dean’s tone is firm and precise, no room for discussion, as he gets out a lighter and watches intently to heat up the needle.

“Wow, you sure know how to make someone feel special,” you hum, feeling much looser without the shooting pain from your shoulder. The buttons of the flannel come undone relatively easy, but the fabric makes a sickly wet thwack as you snap it down to rest around your elbows.

From his spot at your side, you see Dean’s face contort in surprise and watch as he reflexively reaches out a thumb to rub the skin of your shoulder.

“Ow, what the hell?” you flinch.

“Has this always been here?” he asks, partly amazed but mostly incredulous as his eyes trace the inky lines of the dragons where they wind around your skin.

“I wasn’t born with them if that’s what you mean.” You can tell he’s truly shocked because he doesn’t even react to the jab, just hovers a gentle fingertip over the tattoo. “Earth to Dean? I thought you were all scared about me bleeding out.”

He gulps and clears his throat before covering with a smile that’s a combination of cheeky and shy. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just didn’t realize I was in the presence of The Tattooed Wonder.”

“Hardly, I only have a few. Now start stitching before I change my mind and wait for Sam; his are way neater than yours anyway.”

“Few? Where are the other ones? Girls on the back of your leg that hula when you walk?”

“Nice try.”

He bites his lip before shifting the strap of your tank top off and sponging the back of your shoulder with a wet towel. When he unceremoniously pours a slug of whiskey over the wound you feel it for the first time and hiss, adrenaline and distraction of the joint pain worn off.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, already dragging floss tight on a stitch with his teeth and moving on to the next as quickly as he can, half-humming that old Queen song, “gonna get me on the track, got a dragon on my back.”

You weren’t lying earlier when you’d said that Sam’s stitches were usually cleaner, but Dean is being very careful in a way he usually isn’t—Chicks dig scars, Sammy! Stopped the bleeding, didn’t it?—and you tip your head back to check his work. The extra time he’s taking is to match up the back of one of the dragons, ripped open by a werewolf claw and currently held together by the delicate pinch of Dean’s index and thumb.

It’s tough, but you manage to grab the reins on a smirk. Dean doesn’t notice, too focused on trying to keep the damage to your tattoo at a minimum. The gesture and the concentration are impossibly sweet, even though you’d long accepted that ink injury was inevitable with your lifestyle.

When he’s done, callused fingertips tugging the last knot in place, Dean grabs the whiskey again. “Hold still,” he breathes, close enough you can feel it dance across the skin of your neck, and you hope he can’t see the goosebumps trailing down your arms like ivy. “That should do it. You can grab the first shower, but it’s big enough that some gauze on top for a few days wouldn’t hurt.”

“Thanks,” you answer, startled and annoyed at your own voice when it creaks a touch. The flannel feels gross and heavy with blood, so you pull your arms out entirely and reach to drop it in the wastebasket.

“I can deal with that if you want,” he offers, ruffling the velvet-short hair at the back of his neck. “The coat too. Not the first time getting blood out of clothes.”

“Oh, okay. Uh, thanks. That would be really nice.”

Dean only meets your eyes for the most fleeting moment when he takes it before biting his lip again and nodding to himself. You get to your feet and gingerly slip the displaced straps back over your shoulder, feeling the shift in energy in the room and not knowing what to do with it. Settling for a jocular little punch to Dean’s bicep, you grin at him. “Thanks for putting me back together, doc.”

Sam comes back a couple minutes after you’ve closed the bathroom door with a translucent plastic bag full of first aid supplies. “In the shower?”

Dean looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch and hands Sam the beer he’d already gotten out of the fridge in anticipation, his leg bouncing rapidly. “Yeah. They have everything?”

His younger brother nods and accepts the bottle, taking a sip before laying out his haul on the coffee table and tossing the bag. “You okay?”

He glances up with a quirked eyebrow. “Just tired, man.”

Sam waits a silent beat, giving Dean a chance to spill whatever it is.

“Did you, ah—did you know Y/N’s all inked up like a friggin’ sailor?”

Sam chuckles and runs his tongue over his teeth. “A sailor? Y/N’s only got a few tattoos, dude.”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, some people like to learn things about their friends. That’s why you’re acting weird?”

Dean scowls over the glass lip of his beer before taking a long pull. “Not acting weird, sue me for being surprised we’re working with the goddamn Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo.” His voice is low and surly like a kid on the edge of a tantrum even he knows isn’t worth it.

“Y/N can do whatever they want, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you like the tattoos, you’re not their dad.” Sam’s barely keeping the giggle out of his voice, enjoying Dean’s frustration the way only a little brother could.

“No, I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like them,” Dean stammers, the end of the statement fading off as a flush starts rising in his cheeks. He knows he’s said too much and Sam jumps on it.

“Wait—you do like them, don’t you?” He crashes onto the couch, long limbs just enough in Dean’s space to be irritating. “I bet you loooooove knowing about those tattoos—I bet you’re dying to see them.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean growls, kicking Sam in the thigh with a socked foot. Sam blocks him and starts laughing hard enough it makes him rattle all over like he’s on a rickety rollercoaster. When he finally catches his breath Dean is still pouting to whatever syndicated sitcom he’d thrown on. Over the tinny TV speakers they hear the shower turn off.

“You know, if you’re feeling shy I could say something for you.” Sam’s grin is ten steps past cheeky, firmly planted in devilish, and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively over top of dimples perfectly sliced into his cheeks.

Dean’s eyes widen like a cartoon and his voice is a gravelly hiss as he grabs a tight handful of Sam’s t-shirt, now crisp with dried blood. “Sam, I fucking swear to God—” but the threat is ineffectual, sheepish panic clear as anything on his face. The glint in Sam’s eye brightens and he twists out of his brother’s grip before he can react, crossing the room in a few huge steps so he’s nearly face to face with you when you open the bathroom door, Dean leaping off of the couch to chase him and slamming into Sam’s back when he stops short.

“Whoa, Jesus—you scared the shit out of me,” you breathe, one hand on top of your fresh t-shirt to still your racing heartbeat, fistful of dirty laundry in the other.

“Just need that second shower, didn’t mean to freak you out!” Sam smiles, warm and light and genuine. “Thanks! Gauze is on the table if you want it.” he says as he slips past you with a friendly and familiar kiss on the cheek, wink that you can’t see to Dean over your shoulder as he closes the bathroom door fast enough that the mirror next to the frame barely even steams.

“Hey, could you—” you start.

“Hey, do you—” Dean says at the exact same time. You both chuckle, and you can’t tell if you’re annoyed or not that the little charge in the room didn’t dissolve while the dried blood on you had rinsed down the shower drain. Dean holds up an open palm to indicate that you should go first.

“Could you cover those stitches for me? The skin is kind of catching on my shirt.”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

Shaking your hair loose and hanging the towel it was in on the back of a kitchenette chair, you sit on the edge of the bed to tug the collar of your t-shirt as far onto your shoulder as you can. Dean snatches some medical tape and a couple 4x4s from the table and sits down next to you, the heat coming off of him soothing the chill of the few remaining drops of water cooling on your skin. “I’m gonna need more slack than that,” he says, trying to be matter-of-fact but not quite covering the gooey softness around the edges that are making his voice more sultry than gruff. You try to pull harder on the collar but it’s already digging into your neck. The hand holding the gauze floats down to Dean’s lap while he rubs his jaw with the other. “Do you—could you just take it off?”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Or live with it, see if I care.” He holds your gaze, and that stubbornness you recognize.

Reluctantly, you move your arm inside the shirt and slip it out from under the bottom hem, squirming in a way that covers your chest while exposing your shoulder. When he sweeps the shirt back you reflexively jolt away from him like you’ve been shocked. “Not being fresh, just don’t want to tape it in,” he murmurs.

“I noticed you put the lines together really straight; thanks for that.”

“Only took an extra second.” He rips another piece of tape off a roll with his teeth and is being so deliberate that now you’re sure he’s stalling for another few seconds to keep touching you but you don’t care; the feeling of his fingertips on your skin is tender and delicious.

“If I knew you were going to be that careful, I would’ve been letting you do my stitches this whole time.”

“Guess I’m just a regular damn seamstress,” he smiles, finally smoothing the last tape and only surreptitiously glancing out of the corner of his eye as you tuck your arm back into its sleeve. “So seriously, what’re the other tattoos?”

“I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough,” you whisper as you stand up, committing to memory the way it makes Dean’s pupils flare as you ease under the scratchy motel sheets on the opposite bed.

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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bunnirs · 4 years

Text

Yandere! Gon and Killua with a S/O who tries to leave

Requested by: Anon!

“I don’t know if you do any yandere stuff but if you do I was wondering how would yandere killua and gon react to thier s/o trying to leave them for Accidentally Cheating. Thx love your blog”

First Gon and Killua request!! I’m so excited! For the sake of all things holy, ALL CHARACTERS WILL BE AGED UP A BIT. especially with the cheating thing 👉👈 UMM ALSO THIS IS MY FIRST EVER YANDERE TYPE THING SO IM SORRY 😭

Gon:

Alright this dude doesn’t see anything wrong with the fact that he cheated

HE THINKS ITS NORMAL??

And to think you’d get so upset over him ‘cheating’ on you??

He would never! He was just being ‘nice’ to one of tourists of Whale Island

A little to nice.

He’s the type of Yandere that thinks what he does is completely fine! He thinks he’s doing the right thing!

So that’s where you had enough.

Gon was a lunatic and you had to get away

Maybe you’d call Leorio or Kurapika, they’d help you

That’s all you had to do

Get to a pay phone and dial Leorio or Kurapika

So while Gon had left to do God knows what..

You packed your shit and walked out the door

Surprisingly.. you got to the pay phone rather easily

Your paranoia had shot up with the risk of getting caught

Like 📈📈📈📈📈

You made the decision to call Kurapika. He was more serious with this stuff.

You waited for Kurapika until it was dark out

But he came all the same

But you hadn’t expected to see Gon right behind him

That’s right. Gon had said something about visiting Kurapika. Shit.

You were an idiot not to pay closer attention

Fuck fuck fuck he looks mad

His eyes were avoid of anything,,,

His soulless hues stared into your own, and you felt like you could throw up

Kurapika seemed rather worried, asking what happened while Gon was gone

You couldn’t tell him about Gon being a psycho

He wouldn’t believe you.. right?

You made the choice in saying that someone had tried to hurt you, and with Gon away, you didn’t know what to do

Kurapika sighed and said he’d get a hotel and would scout the island for any suspicious behavior,,,

But he didn’t know that Gon WAS the culprit.

Soon after that, you went home with Gon.

“....You lied to him, Y/N.” There was a pregnant pause before your name, almost like it was hard for him to pronounce. “You never lie.”

“...Gon....” You said quietly, not prepared for whatever the hell he was going to say.

“Is this about the woman?” Gon narrowed his eyes at his feet, which moved as the both of you took the road to his house.

“No I just-“ you went quiet, not knowing what to say. Make something up. Fast. “I just wanted to.. get away from the island a bit.”

“Get away?” Gon’s dark expression changed into one of confusion. “Do you not like it here?”

“No! I like it here!” You said abruptly, your eyes widening. “It’s just, I was thinking of visiting my parents! See what they’re up too!” You nervously laughed, praying he didn’t notice your smile faulter.

“...Oh well...that’s easy.” Gon smiled at you, and for a second, you thought you did something good. “They’re up to nothing.” His eyes darkened, his smile widening a bit.

“Nothing?” You questioned, confused.

“They’re dead.” Gon hummed. “They kept trying to get in my way.. so I put them out of their misery. They missed you a lot.. and kept saying I kidnapped you! Which isn’t true right?”

You didn’t say anything. Nothing at all. The only thing that escaped your mouth were the harsh sobs, which seemed to shake your whole body. You fell to the ground, the rough asphalt slicing your knees, the stinging couldn’t compare to the state your heart was in.

“...Oh..” His voice lowered, the slight evidence of worry laced his tone. “.....Can you not speak..?” He grabbed your hand, kneeling before you.

You smacked his hand away, falling onto your back. “G-get the hell away from me!” You screamed, your hands slipping on the bloodied gravel below you. You kept trying to stand up, but it seemed that gravity pushed against you even harder than before. “Go away! For gods sake just leave me alone!”

He stared at his hand for about a minute, his mouth wide and agape. “Leave.. you alone? While your upset?” He seemed hurt, his eyes swelling up, tears appearing. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you like this! You’re hurting!”

“Because of you! I’m HURTING BECAUSE OF YOU!” You screamed in his face, somehow gaining the strength to sit up.

“.......I didn’t hurt you! I would never hurt you!” His voice gained in volume, almost like he was panicking. “I just did what was best for both of us!”

“You did what was best for you!” You shoved your finger into his chest, your nail almost bending due to the pressure. “You never think about me! You force me to stay with you! I never wanted something like this! I-“

“Shut up.” Gon said suddenly, shadow overcasting his facial features. “Everything I do is for you... don’t you dare say it isn’t!” His hand quickly grabbed your wrist, the sickening sound of bone being crushed seemed to echo in your ears.

“Y-you’re hurting me... right now... you’re hurting me..” you whispered, trying your best not to cry even more. Your head already hurt from the screaming, the pain adding to your desire to pass out.

“You don’t know real pain.” He said coldly. “But you’ll find out soon.”

That’s all you heard before you eyes seemed to close, your body falling forward into someone’s warm embrace, the air being knocked out of you.

“But everything I do... is for you.. Y/N.”

Killua:

Thing is I don’t see him cheating :(

He’s so closed off as is, so it’s surprising he’s in love with you anyway!!

He’s definetly the Yandere who thinks that you need him

Like you’d be in danger without him

He’s definitely convinced himself that you’d die if you weren’t with him

And that makes him so friggin sad

He wants you to be happy

But he wants you to be safe first.

So, if you try to escape, that’ll make him even more broken inside

He’s a tragic yandere tbh

Wants to give you happiness and love, but he can’t let you out of his sight 😭

So you probably try to leave when he kills someone that was close to you

Probably a guy friend of yours

He felt like he was dangerous, and couldn’t have him taking you away

So he murdered him on the spot with a quick hand through the heart, his nails bloodied.

That was the last straw. You were living with a murderer.

How you would get out? You had no idea

You were in the Zoldyck Mansion. Locked away.

If anything, you could try talking to Canary. She liked you. A lot.

So that’s what you did. You told Canary everything.

She believed you almost immediately. She knew the Zoldycks were cruel... Killua included, no matter how much she liked him.

She’d try to smuggle you outside the gate

Hopefully the security guard would understand

That’s what got you here, standing from right inside the testing gate, Killua before you.

Canary was long gone. She had to stop the butlers from following you.. so you were alone.

“....What are you doing so far from home...?” He questioned, his eyes widened at the sight of you with bags in your hands. “It’s dangerous out here.”

“Killua, we’re inside the gate. You know it’s plenty safe out here.” You narrowed your eyes, nails digging into the leather holsters of your bag. You couldn’t back down now. “Besides, I can protect myself if need be.”

“.....Of course you can. I don’t doubt your abilities.” Killua rolled his eyes, his attitude returning to normal. “I wouldn’t date someone who can’t protect themselves.”

“....Then why don’t you act like that?” You felt a pang in your chest. He made it seems like you were weak.... He made it seem like you were helpless. Why would he do that?

“Act like what? Protective? I can’t do that?” He questioned, his defensive tone making itself clear.

“That is not what this is.” You countered, stepping back a bit. “You know this isn’t you being protective! You act like I’m fragile! Some glass vase that’ll break if someone pushes me to hard! I’m not! I’m a professional hunter just like you!”

“...You don’t act like it.” He pouted, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“How can you be so childish right now!? This is why I need to leave!” You stepped forward, your voice gaining in volume.

“...Leaving is a need? Are you sure you just don’t want it?” He stepped towards you, his voice getting low. He was definitely getting pissed off now.

“I haven’t been outside the gate in years Killua! You know how ridiculous that sounds?! Last time I interacted with someone from outside this gate, you fucking murdered them! He was my friend!”

“He was trying to hurt you!” Killua responded, his eyes darkening. “He was inviting you outside the gate! And by yourself no less! He could’ve hurt you!”

“Going out the gate isn’t a death sentence! I need fresh air Killua! I need to see people!” You continued to yell, throwing your hands up in the air dramatically, the bag in your hand almost being flung off to the side.

“You see my family everyday! They’re people!” Killua scoffed. “barely...” he muttered to himself, getting lost in thought.

“What if I don’t want to see your family anymore?! What if I don’t want to see you?!” You gasped right after the words left your mouth, hands covered your lips, almost in disbelief of what you had just said.

As your thoughts consumed you, you felt a slight pain in your abdomen, your body falling to the ground. Your bags cluttered around you, creating what ironically looked like a crime scene. He had just pushed you. That’s never happened before.

Killua stood above you, his eyes pulsating with dark intent, his aura covering for what seemed like miles. “....Don’t you ever say that!” He yelled out, tears almost appearing in his empty voids. “I might believe it one day! That you don’t need me anymore!” He grabbed the collar of your shirt, so his eyes could look into yours. “I can’t lose you like everyone else! Don’t leave me behind! I used to think you needed me but now I think it’s the other way around!” He cried out, tears threatening to spill. “I have to protect you with everything I have! I’ll continue to kill the people who try to take you away! So please don’t make this hard! I know you want to leave! I understand! But that can’t happen!”

You were quiet, your body feeling limp as he had hit a sensitive point on your body. “O-okay...” you muttered out, tears brimming the corners of your eyes. “I’ll stay.... I-“

Before you can finish, Killua hugged you tighter than ever before, knocking the air out of you. You felt like you could pass out, that feeling soon coming to reality as black dots filled your vision. He had somehow managed to manipulated you again. His worry getting the best of you.

Curse you for being so damn sympathetic.

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twistedtranslations · 4 years

Text

Rook Hunt - The real culprit is... you!

You can unlock this story by getting Rook’s SSR Dorm uniform

Translation under the cut

Rook calls Epel “himeringo”, the Japanese word for plumleaf crabapple. I shortened it.

As we know already, Epel sometimes slips in his country accent, hence the weird wording.

Chapter 1

Courtyard

Vil: …8…9…10! Next up is the camel pose. Push your chest out and lean your upper body backward. Hold your ankles with your hands and keep that pose.

Everyone: Yes!

Epel: Ugh… Rook…

Rook: What is it, monsieur Crabapple?

Epel: I came to help with the shooting of the next work of the cinema studies club, but… Argh! Why are we doing yoga… Ugh?

Rook: Epel, you know, it's because we wanted you to take part in relaxing activities. If people relaxed, they will become more flexible mentally, and more active in discussions and communication. Yoga is the best exercise to improve your blood flow, metabolism and it soothes your mind. Moreso, your posture and physique will become much more beautiful! That's why Vil does yoga before his cinema studies activities.

Epel: I, I see… Is there…. An easier method?

Rook: By the way, Epel. You should bend your back more if you want to call it a camel pose. Okay, I will help you out and pull your arms back!

Epel: Eh, no, I'm fine- OUCH!!!!

Rook: Hahaha, monsieur Crabapple, you're body is quite stiff.

Savanaclaw Student A: Hey, look, it's the guys from the cinema studies. What a weird-looking pose is that! Man, I'd be way too embarrassed to wriggle like that in front of everyone.

Cinema studies Student A: Why are you guys butting in suddenly? This is just yoga…

Cinema studies Student B: Leave it be. Those muscle brains from Savanaclaw wouldn't understand our graceful bodybuilding.

Savanaclaw Student B: Huh? Are you picking a fight!

Rook: Oh please, there's no need to get angry! Why don't you join us? We can polish our beauty and deepen our friendship with yoga!

Savanaclaw Student A: Who'd do that! Beauty won't fill your belly. C'mon, let's go.

Epel: … friggin' irritatin'. Rook, I don't know how or why you could invite those guys…

Rook: I thought they might understand the benefits of yoga if they did it. How regrettable. Oh, me of all people! While I was talking, I forgot to help you out. My bad, let's continue.

Epel; Um, no, I don't need it… OUCH!!!!

Vil: Epel?

Epel: Ah… Vil.

Vil: I thought I heard a crushed frog's ugly cry, but that was my imagination, wasn't it?

Epel: Ugh… I'm sorry, I'll pay attention to it.

Vil: Rook, I think there will be no problems if you are by his side but… If anything happens, I hope you will "properly" discipline him. Not only does he lack in manners and aesthetics, but many other facets as well.

Epel: Is… that so?

Vil: Didn't you get frustrated when the Savanaclaw students reprimanded you? Do not involve Pomefiore in trivial arguments. Understood?

Epel: Understood…

Vil: Rook. If Epel quarrels with other dorm students during the shooting period… I will expel you two from the cinema studies- no, the dorm.

Epel: … I'm only here because you asked me to help.

Vil: Did you say anything?

Epel: Nuthin’- I mean, I said nothing.

Vil: In any case. Please refrain from idiotic behavior that could tarnish Pomefiore's name.

Rook: Oui, Roi du Poison. Leave it to me!

Cinema studies Student A: Those three seem to get along well as usual…

Cinema studies Student C: Epel and Rook are amazing. Leaving out the fact that they're from the same dorm, they can talk to Vil so casually. Perhaps I'm still too nervous because I saw him on the TV and in magazines before I entered the college?

Cinema studies Student A: Right. They're amazing for being able to to talk with him without constraints.

Interior Hallway

The next day

Epel: Ah, Rook.

Rook: Hello, Epel. You're here early.

Epel: Yes. My class finished early…

Students: Congratulations!

Rook: You guys too… We are the most enthusiastic people in the club today.

Classroom

Rook: Vil isn't here today because of work, therefore I will instruct you on the activities…

Cinema Studies B: … Is something wrong?

Rook: La vache (Oh the cow)… how terrible. Look at that.

Epel: Argh! Vil's clothes are torn into pieces!?

Cinema studies Student A: And it's not only his clothes but also the photo sets on the wall…

Everyone: !!

Epel: The heck, what are those weird words written in red…

Rook: "A defective beauty"… It must be a message from the one who tore up the clothes. Fufu, this is quite a case… And a direct declaration of war on us!!

Chapter 2

Classroom

Rook: Fufu, this is quite a case… And a direct declaration of war on us!!

Epel: Is there anyone in the cinema studies club who’d tear up his clothes with ill intent…? Who would do that…

Cinema studies Student A: Hey, those marks on those ripped clothes… Don't they look like they've been made by sharp claws?

Cinema studies Student B: Claws… Then this could be the work of the Savanaclaw students. But why would they…

Cinema studies Student A: … Could it be those guys from yesterday?

Epel: Do you mean the ones who made fun of us..?

Cinema studies Student A: Yeah. The guys from Savanaclaw said it then, right? "Beauty" won't fill your belly.

Cinema studies Student B: So a Savanaclaw student with a grudge from yesterday wrote a message on the wall and tore up Vil's clothes?

Epel: If they didn't like it, they can face us up front. This is cowardly.

Cinema studies Student A: Epel, you are a good person. Even though you aren't part of the cinema club, you still get angry for us.

Epel: I ain't forgivin' them for goin' behind our backs… I mean, we cannot allow them to do this.

Cinema studies Student C: Yeah. We won't stay quiet about these precious clothes being destroyed!

Epel: Yeah! Let's search for those guys from yesterday and have'm complain to our face!

Everyone: Yeah!

Cinema studies Student A: Hey, wait everyone- ... And they went.

Rook: Oho, everyone seems very passionate.

Cinema studies Student A: Rook, are you not following them?

Rook: The sadness of losing such a beautiful thing stunned me for a moment.

Cinema studies Student A: … I see. I'll stop Epel and the others.

Rook: Oh my, to be in such a situation on the day Vil isn't here. Or to be more precise, "because he isn't here". Moreso… "A defective beauty". I should solve this case before Vil returns.

Rook: I should investigate to see if I can find evidence that links to the culprit. Let's start at the place where the fabric was torn. …As I expected. It's not a scratch even though it resembles one. They used 25 cm long scissors with 9 cm long blades to cut it. From the angle of the tears, I can guess that the culprit is right-handed. They held it with their left hand by the torso and used their right hand to cut from the shoulder to the waist with the scissors…

Rook: The culprit is probably around 168-172 cm. That narrows it down a bit! Fufufu… Even though I've experienced the hunt for an animal's traces many times, it still elates me. Oho, I can't let myself get carried away. I have to concentrate on the investigation… … Aha. I see… Fufu, I have deduced the animal. Now it's hunting time!

Courtyard

Savanaclaw Student A: Shut up! We didn't do it. Who gives a shit about your clothes!

Epel: If there's anythin' you wanted to say, tell 's up front instead of harassin'… you're so unmanly, senior.

Savanclaw Student A: What!?

Cinema studies Student B: If we cannot agree and don't progress then… We will have a duel!!!!

Savanaclaw Student B: Hah, come at me. I don't think you culture boys will be much of an opponent though.

Everyone: HAAAAH!!

/Fighting sounds

???: Stop it!

Savanaclaw Student A: Huh…

Cinema studies Student A: All our magic was swept away!?

Epel: Rook!?

Rook: Turn your magical pen in, everyone. It's forbidden to use magic for your personal struggles. Besides, you’re in the wrong by blaming them. They have nothing to do with what happened.

Epel: Huh…

Savanaclaw Student B: Pf! You got us involved in some weird stuff. We did nothin' so we're off.

Cinema studies Student B: … How foolish! If they didn't do it, then please tell us who did such a horrible thing!

Rook: The cause of this tragedy is deep love. The real culprit is… You!

Chapter 3

Rook: The cause of this tragedy is deep love. The real culprit is… You!

Courtyard

Cinema studies Student B/Epel: Huh…

Cinema studies Student C/D: No way…

Cinema studies Student A: …

Cinema studies Student B: He can't be the culprit, Rook! He's the costumer of the cinema studies club!?

Cinema studies Student A: That's right. You saw it, right? That "A Defective beauty", what a disgusting and criminal declaration!!

Rook: Yes, I saw it. That felt out of place. As the Savanclaw students said, they don't only not care , but even negate the very existence of "beauty". Despite that, do you think they would use an eloquent expression like "Defective"? While I was thinking about that, I inspected the garment that seemed to be torn apart by claws carefully.. And followed the clues to you.

Cinema studies Student A: Why… Me?

Rook: The scratches on the garments. They were cut by scissors in the shape of a beast's talons. And by examining the traces of your cut, I could deduce their height and their dominant arm, which happens to concur with yours. And there's more evidence. What I hold in my hand right now is a piece cut from the garments… Look at the lining?

Epel: The lining? What's wrong with it?

Rook: It's loosely sewn. This garment hasn't been used once for a photoshoot, and it's not the only part that doesn't harmonize well on the camera… Vil is the kind of person who strives for perfect quality from the fabric to the sewing and the accessories. He wouldn't have let this shoddy tailoring pass.

Epel: Um, so someone tore up the garments of the cinema studies club. But it was a fake, and not the real one…? I, I'm confused.

Rook: He hesitated at the moment of the crime when he was about to tear Vil's clothes, so he replaced it with a fake. The essential part is that the fake was made intending to fit Vil perfectly. There are only two people besides Vil that know his measurements exactly. The first one is me. And the other one is…

Epel: The costumer… who is in charge of taking his measurements?

Cinema studies Student A: Ugh…

Rook: I suggest you don't make more excuses now. Won't you tell us your reason?

Cinema studies Student A: I-, I did it because… I was jealous! You and Epel get along great with the esteemed Vil!

Epel: Huh! You think we're getting along great? The only thing he does is scold me though…

Cinema studies Student A: That's plenty! I admire Vil, studied what he likes, and devoted myself with all my might to the cinema studies club! Even so, I never got any closer to him since I enrolled! So I tried to make you two fight the other dorms… and have you expelled from the cinema studies club.

Epel: Well ain't you a peach…

Cinema studies Student A: … I'm sorry for causing an inconvenience to everyone in the club. I'll take responsibility and quit the club.

Rook: Quit the club? Non!! That would be outrageous, my dear costumer!

Everyone: Huh!?

Cinema studies Student A: W-Why…

Rook: This case. His love for Vil created and destroyed it. Thus… Love only won't make you able to finish a piece that can be mistaken for the real thing. The way your fingers assembled this with thread and needle, it's actually beautiful. If the cinema studies club were to lose a talent like yours, Vil wouldn't be pleased. Your atonement will be your contributions to the club.

Cinema studies Student B: It's just as Rook says. You are the best out of us at dressmaking, if you weren't here it would stump us. Come on, let's go back to the clubroom. Let's repair this garment before Vil comes back from his work!

Cinema studies Student A: ! Y-Yes!!

Rook: Okay! That settles one case.

Epel: Rook! That was splendid. You are so observant, to tell it's a counterfeit just by the seams.

Rook: Ah. That was a lie! No one hand-sews anything these times. They all use a sewing machine. You can't see that with the naked eye, right? It was a trick.

Epel: Huh… Huuuh!? Then how did you know it was a fake?

Rook: Fufufu, the truth is much simpler. Smell. The counterfeit clothes didn't have a single atom of the characteristic and unique mellow fragrance that Vil has, so I knew immediately.

Epel: What!? That investigation method is kinda… gross, you know?

Rook: Listen, Epel. I regard the information you can get by smelling highly, as it's useful for hunting. You can know the places one visited or in this case, the person's characteristics, by the traces of their smell. For example… sniff sniff. What you had for lunch today-

Epel: Argh!? S-Stop this!

Rook: Hahaha! Just kidding. My nose isn't that good either.

Epel: I thought you were amazing like a detective, but… maybe you're really just a weirdo.

#twisted wonderland #epel felmier #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #translation #personal story

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noizplayssomestuff · 3 years

Text

Okay, so, as promised: I will rant about/discuss Majima and the way I perceive him and the way he changed between y0 and y1

This is absolutely just my opinion, but I just saw someone on a message board rage about how they "broke" Majima by making him be the way he is in Y0 and by making him only ever fake all the crazy persona and that this ruins him

But. Hear me out. Just a second, if you please.

First things first: Do I think giving Majima a soft interior fitting to his back story was a bad decision? No. To me, this just gives him depth. Sure, I *love* our crazy dude and all the shenanigans he gets up to. I really do. But those little moments, even in later games and the facts that he calms down somewhat later? That, to me, elevates him from being a caricature and easy, overdrawn one off joke to a full, thought-out character with a psyche and reason to the madness.

That is the second thing. The person I read the rant of went on about how it was a shame that Majima only "acts crazy because he is afraid of other yakuza". I would humbly disagree. Yes, I do agree that realizing Shimano and others used him as a puppet and being predictable played a huge part in wanting to be more unpredictable- but: I think he took more than just "let's be random now" from all of this. When he said "I'm gonna have more fun and live crazier than any of 'em",you might think it's for the fun and games of it. However, I would like to point to the dialogue between Majima and Awano, after you beat Awano. Majima reflects on how he knew people who "lived like idiots and died like idiots" "but that batshit crazy lifestyle... I'd say it made 'em some of the finest bastards I'd ever known." He thought of the obvious Nishitani, but also of Wen Hai Lee. And this, THIS together with the goodbye scene with Sagawa drives me insane in the good way.

Sure, he took obvious fight moves and other mannerisms from Nishitani. But I have 2 points of contention here. 1) When fighting him, you keep getting into situations in which they mirror each other pre Majima snapping/deciding to "change" (I will explain the "" in a bit) 2) In my opinion, if there was no prior interest in being like this/some sort of seed within Majima himself, none of this would work. Hear me out. The way Majima fights (even without the Lengendary style) is batshit. And he always does it. He learns it by himself. It's a natural progression to him. Even Komaki points out at the very beginning that there is a fire in Majima, that there is a hunger for something more. We all KNOW he was caged in in civilian life. He even says so. He is meticulous and good at what he does, because he is friggin SMART and knows how to get what he needs/wants so he can get the hell out and back to what he actually wants to do.

So, I propose to you all, who had the patience to read all this: Both sides ARE Majima. Yes. He goes overboard in his Mad Dog persona. But I do not think that it is entirely fake. It is him letting lose on impulses he had anyways and pushing them a little farther than reason dictates- this is what he learned from Nishitani BUT he also learned a lot from Lee and (hold the Pee Pee man jokes, please) Sagawa. From Lee, whom he mentions in the same breath AS Nishitani, he learns that he can be insane AND compassionate. He can be insanely compassionate, if he is so inclined. He can be whatever the fuck he wants to be, who will stop him? And his stubbornness? The way he lets nothing get in his way? He points out how, even when shit hit the fan, Sagawa was always steadfast, tenacious and even literally says he will strife to have that quality, too.

That is the next point. He finds his strength. Nobody can get in his way, as soon as his mind is set. And why? Nothing left to lose. He realizes that that, as sad as it is, makes him a lose cannon. His fighting prowess covers the rest. Who wants to stand in the way of a mad man with nothing left to lose and the physical means to get pretty darn far? Hardly anyone, huh? Essentially, as he puts it himself, "Goro Majima is gonna live his own way".

This way being: He listens only to himself and his own impulses (rationality or not) honesty is the best rule, stop at nothing to get what you want and use your brain so nobody can use you. (And sometimes the kindness he can only show as insanity still shines through aka why the fandom has fallen in love)

So. Is it all fake? I don't think so. Was is a conscious decision? Yes. Does he go overboard with it? HAVE YOU SEEN THE GUY?! But, and that is my last sentiment, I think to everything he does, there is a thought and a glimmer of truth to every batshit thing he does. At heart he still is kind and he still has traits from Y0. He is not just a cut and dry one way or the other kind of character and THAT is what makes him so interesting. At least to me.

#This got longer than intended #but it really had me furious #this is not coherent at all #but I hope my point is somewhat clear #unlike my head #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #majima #majima goro #character anlysis #(?)#of sorts

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lexpressobean · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Kikaichu as actual Parasites.

Knowing how skin and the body generally works on a medical level, the "hive" aspect of the Aburame clan really drives me crazy. 'Cause parasites are real, obviously, but the size of Kikaichu beetles makes absolutely no sense in comparison to irl skin parasites. At least not in a bee hive sort of way lol

rambling because my mind craves logic and I'm specializing as a wound care nurse but it's literally anime so what do I expect lol

No, wounds don't freak me out, I'm more terrified of generally handling vomit and babies than I am a dehiscence of a 15cm long surgical site lol. The human body can literally take so much abuse before it really starts to give and try to alert you that you need help! And once you give it help, it really can come full circle to the wound 100% looking like it was never there. The body is an amazing thing <3

However the first thing that comes to mind when I hear the word "parasite" is always going to be "tapeworm". That's not gonna change. However, kikaichu are not worms and CERTAINLY don't grow that fucking huge or live that long. (A tape worm can live long enough to graduate with a fucking PhD. Can you believe?) I haven't been exposed to any urgent situations involving parasites yet, however, the one I would compare a Kikaichu to that is (unfortunately) also common is the scabies mite.

Very briefly, scabies mites (Sarcoptes scabiei) are technically a type of arachnid that grow no bigger than a bout 0.5mm in size, but CAN be seen with the naked eye if you're looking for them. They crawl around the skin and burrow specifically in the top layer of skin, called the epidermis. The epidermis is that protective layer of skin and can be between 0.5mm to 1.5mm thick depending on which part of the body you're looking at. After the epidermis, you have the dermal layer, which is where sweat glands, nerves, and capillaries are found. Scabie mites will not burrow that deep because they only burrow to lay their eggs and such. As they do this they can cause visible tunnels and other marks that can be mistaken for acne or other skin conditions if not properly identified. You'll most likely know because the itch is VERY BAD.

They're very easily spread by close contact and a scabies infestation needs to be treated with a prescribed pharmacological means.

However, kikaichu are definitely a lot bigger than 0.5mm. In the case of size, I would compare them at minimum to fruitflies/medflies, which grow up to 3-5mm and maximum to ladybugs 4-7mm.

3-7mm > 0.5-1.5mm... obviously. And the holes which Kikaichu swarm out of that the audience has seen before are about a size comparable Shino's nostrils, IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!!

You're telling me those things were in his mouth?????????? S H I N O N O

That would mean, in realistic terms, the Kikaichu are fucking around in Shino's body to the bone and muscles and THAT'S A REALLY SCARY THOUGHT. Even just passing the epidermis to the dermis is alarming! Compared to the dry, protective epidermis that can and does take damage, the dermis can be 1-4mm thick depending on where you're looking and is where skin does it's business. All together that becomes 0.5-5.5mm of space BARELY big enough for a fruit fly do mess around in. It makes just enough sense in terms of THAT size, but last time I checked, having the skin penetrated to the dermal layer is just asking for infection to happen. You're first natural line of defense has been breeched, there's a pretty good chance you're gonna be bleeding (blood vessels) and general body fluids are going to be draining, which is bad for a multitude of reasons, and there's damage that gonna affect the nerves, and realistically this shit is going to be ABSOLUTELY painful if they're constantly manipulating those areas near nerves. These kinda of things CAN make new connections and things like that, sometimes damage is forever. (Case by case basis).

So my first thought to more or less "magically" solve the problem with anime logic, is that first of all, it's an anime and logic doesn't have to apply haha.

On a more sci-fi level, in which kikaichu are smaller than we've seen them shown, maybe they have been purposefully been allowed to burrow into the dermal layer of the skin at least because the blood vessels seem to be in direct contact with the chakra system. Kikaichu's prefered food is chakra, but they WILL mutiny and eat their respective Aburame from the inside out if they don't balance their chakra smartly. So it's safe to say Kikaichu are at least carnivorous as well, and so I only imagine these absolute nightmares would swarm their prey in the wild, and actively bite through and burrow into the body of the prey until they found the chakra system and went to town on that poor unfortunate soul. Eaten alive, how the hell did they "tame" them in the first friggin' place??

I like to think two things:

1) Kikaichu are passed down from parent to child, and the parent has control over the Kikaichu until they have been RIGOROUSLY trained for generations to comprehend that this baby/child isn't food, it's a new hive. If bees can comprehend time, Kikaichu can comprehend what an Aburame is. If they insist on trying to drain the babe or the babe just can't tolerate them, the parent takes the Kikaichu back and the babe is assigned another insect or position in general. Like hell they're gonna try to force a relationship like that.

2) As part of the successful symbiotic relationship, Kikaichu regularly debride the tunnels and borrows that they carve into their respective Aburame, and are naturally intuitive in avoiding as many nerves and blood vessels as possible. The chance of infection is never 0%, however, kikaichu are pretty good about taking care of their tunnels, and so it gives the Aburame more time to focus on their things, like increasing the amount if chakra in their system. To ensure that they stay healthy, Aburame are encouraged to eat as much protein and Vit C possible every day, whether it be meat, beans, lentils, eggs, oranges, tomatoes, or even supplements as times modernize. The dermis is living tissue and as long as debridement/tunneling is going on, it needs to be nourished as much as possible.

I don't know how the hell Aburame deal with the obvious drainage that would be coming from their bodies, assuming the dermal layer really is free game for the Kikaichu. But the magical solution is that... they don't? Because... drainage is minimal. The Kikaichu just do such a good job lol. Maybe they purposefully... carve entrances to be flappy, or they purposefully create pocket spaces underneath seemingly healed areas of skin to easily burst open when necessary. That's the biggest thing for me, leaking body fluids. There's no way around that shit besides straight up denial lol Maybe they wear a special kind of dressing underneath their clothes, or that's directly applied with their clothes. Maybe that's what that cute little backpack is filled with, who knows!!

Idk man. I'm sure the Aburame authority forces encourages many of their non-hive members to pursue medical nin training in order to give the clan more privacy in general too. All medics that claim the Aburame name are exclusively used by the Aburame Clan. A non-Aburame medic may end up healing tunnels and burrows that were meant to stay open because "oops" and now you have an X amount of insects possibly suffocating within a completely sealed pocket of the skin, and also now there's a very good chance that after those insects die, that whole area is gonna frickin' abscess and cause infection induced tunnels the longer it's left alone and GROSS THAT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! THERE IS A DELICATE, ORGANIZED, SELF-SUFFICENT PROCESS TO ALL THIS!! A PROCESS!!!

Like... the other ninja in the NartVerse can make as many jokes, jabs, and comments about the Aburame as they please (INO? BITCH??? but to be honest I still love her lol). But these MFers are constantly playing Russian Roulette with these high maintenance demon spawn from hell, and there are VERY little defences against Kikaichu, virtually none. Like the only thing I've ever seen actively thwart Kikaichu across all media is killing them with mass fire, countering them with large amounts of poison gas (both very exterminator like) or literally just feeding them chakra until they're so stupid full, they can't move, the little gluttons. As far as genjutsu, it's been stated that it's both effective and ineffective, so idk about that. But the Aburame are just SO set up to be the living breathing embodiment of Shinobi as defined by the NartVerse. They're whole clan culture relies on the threat of enemies. If they have no enemies, the whole relationship is an exhausting endeavor for literally no reason. It's not worth it if there's no one to fight or protect! But when there is a threat, you want them on YOUR side.

I suppose the best bet is to incapacitate the Aburame individual asap and the Kikaichu will tend the individual, making escape easier. But, if you DID manage to kill that Aburame right away, that particular Aburame's swarm is now suddenly without its food source and without restraint.

What do you THINK is gonna happen, bro?? The second an Aburame loses their grip on their consciousness due to external influences, the bugs go bonkers because I'm pretty sure Kikaichu are simply persuaded to be in this relationship and have NO tolerance for bullshit like alcohol and overheating temps. If their Aburame dies, they probably cause just as much chaos as they would as a wild, unattended swarm. Then YOU BETTER HAVE fire or poison gas or SOMETHING handy. The only way to calm them down is to offer them chakra and a new host with equal or even more chakra reserves. Otherwise the mutineers must be eradicated.

And for serious... Like, any deeper and the kikaichu would be in the hypodermal/subcutaneous layer of the skin and that's where a lot of connective tissue is located. Let's NOT mess with that shit, shall we? NOT a good idea. It's called connective tissue for a reason first and foremost...

#tis i #anime: naruto #shino aburame #aburame shino #if you need me to tag something lemme know #i wouldn't know exactly what to tag #i bet medics DREAD having to work on Aburame because their situations are so complex haha.#the best medic for an aburame would be a hyuuga clansman.#otherwise it's just gonna have to resolve itself cuz if they're unconscious #they can't help you help them

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thanksjro · 4 years

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More Than Meets the Eye #31 - Ammo and the Anti-Glowup

So, the Lost Light disappeared, stranding all the crew in space in their little escape pods. 200-some robots just lost their homes and worldly possessions. That’s absolutely horrible. What a devastating thing to happen.

Anyway, here’s Drift with a flashback sequence.

No hips, fingers all the exact same length, hockey pucks embedded in his forearms- Rojo, this is a crime you’ve committed. When will the long arm of the law stop your sinful, pancake-shaped hands?

About two years prior to current events, Drift, Riptide, and Pipes- yes, Pipes!- were wandering around trying to find a ship for the space yacht trip. The gang’s here to see who owns the big honkin’ ship outside. Problem is, Drift is unintentionally terrifying because he has a great deal of swords.

Now, you may say to yourself “isn’t it a bit odd that the species that has members who literally turn into guns would be nervous around a guy with swords?” This is a valid critique, until you remember that at least some of the folks who turn into guns were born that way, and Drift was very much NOT born bladed the fuck out. There’s an entire miniseries devoted to explaining this, it’s called Drift. The swords are a choice, one that he makes every day.

Drift is willing to pay an honestly absurd amount of money for the ship, if he can just find the dude with the paperwork- don’t ask where he got the money. Pipes isn’t being terribly helpful in finding them, so Riptide decides that now is the time to start practicing being proactive and pulls a Coyote Ugly.

No, no, he doesn’t.

He does climb up on a table and start yelling for the ship’s owners to reveal themselves, though. Which they do.

Now it’s time for the world-building portion of our comic issue. Let’s learn about chirolinguistics.

Drift, staying true to his Mary Sue nature, uses his near-perfect Hand skills to strike up a deal with the owners of the ship. This would be impressive, if it didn’t just look like the most convoluted hand-holding session in the friggin’ universe.

Still, Drift is rich enough to make Jeff Bezos weep with envy, so the arrangements are made and the lads go on their way, talking some mad shit about the original name of the ship as they do.

So it is revealed to us that the Lost Light is named after a festival for honoring the dead and disappeared, which makes the fact that Rewind and Chromedome were there all the more sad.

Back in the present, Megatron tells Riptide to shut up so they can figure out what the hell they’re going to do about this whole “our home and also ride has ceased to exist” situation. He’s putting an awful lot of distance between himself and the rest of the Autobots as he does it, something that isn’t lost on the more bitter people of the crowd.

But why were we even talking about the Lost Light in the first place? Not to reminisce, believe it or not. See, it’s time for Nautica to get a little panel time, and she’s going to use it to be a massive fucking nerd and explain how the quantum engines work. As she does, Ratchet notes that his hands feel funny. Must be the weight of his hand-stealing sins manifesting itself in his joints.

Nautica explains that the engines run off of improbability- it is highly unlikely, but not impossible, that the ship can reach light speed, and riding the fine line between what can happen and what can’t, results in the creation of power for the engines. If this sounds familiar, it’s because Brainstorm gave us a watered down version of this explanation back in issue #2. If it sounds familiar for a different reason, it’s because this is how the Heart of Gold runs in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Again, I’m not sure why it is that the British love this concept so much, but there you are.

Oh, it appears someone has a question. Let’s see what they want to know about, shall we?

…Rojo, what the fuck is this.

Our muppety friend here isn’t too keen on how much of a smarmy asshole Nightbeat is being right now, though I’d assume it actually has something to do with the fact that Nightbeat got smacked around with the pretty-boy stick while Getaway very much did not. While the two bicker- there’s a lot of bickering in Season Two- Nautica presents a theory on what happened to the ship; it went too far in the direction of “can’t” and made itself cease to be.

Megatron gives not a shit about quantum improbability, though. He only cares about how they’re going to get out of this mess. Which, y’know. Valid.

Blaster picks up a radio from Rodimus, who tells the gang that they’re to meet up on a nearby planet to regroup and figure out their next move. The call drops before he can get more than a couple Megatron-directed insults in, however. Megatron, in response, tries to be the bigger person, and almost immediately fails. We do get a headcount though, which is good, logistically speaking. This information is communicated to us by way of a splash page full of character head shots. We’ve got 20 ‘bots on board this ship.

Yep. 20. No more, no less.

As our friends approach the planet, we’re informed that it’s actually a Lectureworld- a planet devoted to the study of a single field. Except it’s actually a Smartplanet now, and it’s been privatized by the Galactic Council, so you’ve got to pay to go there. Cyclonus thinks that that’s bullshit, and I can’t help but agree. Crosscut tries to network with they guy about his play, probably because word got around that Cyclonus is rich as hell, when the lights cut out. When they come back on, Crosscut is nowhere to be found.

It’s time for a Whodunnit.

Tailgate immediately pegs Megatron as the culprit in this disappearance, and breaks out a gun over the matter. Megatron thinks that this is absolutely adorable, which only serves to further infuriate our marshmallow friend. I guess he’s still mad about the whole “I was a Decepticon for five minutes and got brainwashed over it” thing, and wants someone to pin the anger on who’s socially acceptable to hate.

Cyclonus and Ratchet both think that Tailgate’s not going about this the right way, but the guy is simply too het up to listen to them. Tailgate suggests that they lock Megatron in the engine room for the time being and-

OKAY WHO LET HIM HAVE THAT

Riptide breaks out his gun, and soon we’ve got a standoff going between the three of them. Cyclonus tries to deescalate, which makes Gears and Huffer break out their guns. Then Hound breaks out his gun, though he seems to be doing his own thing, by pointing it in Nautica’s direction.

Broski, I think that might be animal cruelty.

Megatron manages to shoot Ravage “unconscious” and catches him by the friggin’ throat, stating that he has zero idea how this guy got here. With the heat off the two of them for a moment, Megatron communicates to Ravage to play ‘possum for the time being. Ravage responds, and I wonder exactly how he’s doing that, considering I don’t think he has enough fingers to effectively utilize Hand as a language. Or fingers at all, really.

While this is going on, Cyclonus snatches the gun out of Tailgate’s hand, admonishing him for being reckless about picking his fights. Generally speaking, you don’t want to try to go toe-to-toe with a guy who’s responsible for the deaths of literal billions. Getaway swoops in to comfort Tailgate, calling him gutsy. I wonder if this will become a trend.

Swerve says a thing, as he is wont to do, and it’s made known that multiple folks have disappeared during this incredibly brief standoff.

Wow, Chromedome just fucked off, huh? He wasn’t even in that sequence, just left.

Everyone’s positively baffled by the current happenings. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to who’s being taken. I guess we’ve got a mystery on our hands.

And who better to solve a mystery than a detective?

Nightbeat wrangles all the leftover folks into a corner of the room, so they can figure out what the common denominator is with all the disappearees. He starts with the easy stuff.

And by “easy”, I mean the super-special racism Tyrest subscribed to.

If you’ve read Eugenesis, you know that Nightbeat was also part of the first wave of cold-constructed bodies there. However, the general populace wasn’t nearly as chill about it as they were in IDW. Also, Wheeljack was his dad. No word on if that particular tidbit made it into IDW lore.

It’s at this point that we learn about M.T.O.s- made to order soldiers. They were cold-constructed ‘bots created en masse during the war in order to keep up with the demands for troops. Pretty fucked up, if you think about it, being born to die like that.

Now where have we heard that name before…

Chromedome, can your love life not be part of the plot for five minutes, my guy?

Nautica makes the honestly horrific claim that a lot of folks owe their existence to Megatron being a warmongering fuck, and even Megatron himself seems rather uncomfortable with the idea. Some thoughts we keep to ourselves, Nautica, even if they might be technically true. And even if Ammo wants to tack on his two cents on the matter.

What did they DO to you, Ammo? You’re supposed to be hot! Where are my three-paragraphs of description as Hound stares slack jawed the entire time? I miss Polyhex Wars.

Anyway, it’s Megatron’s turn to get poked with the questioning stick, and he’s not having it. He claims that by revealing his mode of creation, he’s risking a repeat of Functionist ideology. This would be valid, if people weren’t literally disappearing without any sort of explanation as to why. As it is, he’s being a stubborn asshole, but I guess he didn’t get his reputation by being a decent person who knew when to back down, now did he?

It’s at this point that Ratchet remembers he knows all the info Nightbeat’s looking for, and the conversation on Megatron’s birth is shelved for another day. I’m sure it won’t be a major plot point later, not in the slightest.

As it turns out, Nightbeat’s theory doesn’t hold water, and folks are still popping out of existence. We get another splash page, this time with everyone’s mode of creation listed under their names, and we move on to other theories about what the fuck is going on. While Nightbeat has a minor crisis over what the answer could possibly be, the MTOs in the group reminisce on the Ten-Step Program, a series of tests they were put through to make sure they worked well enough to get handed a gun and shoved out the door. Riptide wasn’t a fan.

Riptide has more wood panelling than a 70’s-style ranch house, and I think that’s very brave of him.

It’s at this point that Ratchet remembers it’s been quite a bit since he last shat on religion, and takes the time to do so while informing the reader about Information Creep. This is a concept we’ve seen mentioned previously, during Chromedome’s runaround in Overlord’s brain, but it’s here where we get the juicy implications.

Because memories can become corrupted in the brain due to extreme age, what ought to be objective fact has to be reinterpreted due to missing pieces. This is why nobody knows what the Knights of Cybertron got up to, or if they’re even actually real at all.

The lights go out again, and when they cut back on, Cyclonus is missing, leaving only his sword behind. Tailgate is extremely distraught by this, but Nightbeat gives not a fuck about Tailgate’s impending breakdown. He only cares about the truth!

And then a giant eyeball shows up.

It’s Ultra Magnus, coming to us live from his shuttle, via holomatter avatar! He shrinks down to a far more reasonable size, in a panel reminiscent of the first time IDW readers saw Megatron.

Don’t get me wrong, this is a neat parallel, I’m just… not terribly sure why it’s happening. One could say it reflects a reversal in power dynamics, but that theory gets tossed out the window when you remember that this isn’t actually Verity. I suppose it’s just a cool little thing.

Because the comms aren’t working, Ultra Magnus has been forced to use this avatar to communicate with the folks in the Rod Pod. Megatron asks just what the hell is going on, but unfortunately Magnus isn’t sure either. Then his shuttle disappears, and it’s bye-bye grunge girl Magnus.

It’s at this point that Nightbeat decides it’s time to stop pussyfooting around and get serious. He tells Ratchet to throw HIPPA directly in the garbage and write down everything he knows about the Autobots who crewed the Lost Light. And he does mean everything, as we get the splash page again, this time with lots of neat info on our friends, including spark type.

Spark types will become plot-relevant in the storyline after this, but for now let’s focus on some weird gender essentialism that got slapped into the first print of this issue.

As we know very well by this point, Transformers as a franchise has a tumultuous relationship with the idea of women existing. You would think that the awkward introduction of other genders we got in “Dark Cybertron” would have been the end of things being weird in IDW. However, you would be wrong.

In an effort to explain why genders exist, Roberts had the idea to make it spark-based. Nautica, in the solo print of this issue, has an estriol-positive spark. Estriol is a type of estrogen, which is the hormone that develops and maintains feminine secondary sex characteristics, when present in certain levels, in conjunction with other hormones. Biology

This “spark = gender” idea is, generally speaking, not a great idea to be presenting us with, especially when the writer is a cishet male, because it implies biological essentialism- the idea that a personality trait/quality of a person is innate and predetermined by their biology, as opposed to social, cultural, or individual experiences. Because this story doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s irresponsible to reduce the experience of being a woman to a single, physical, unchangable asset, especially when all other assets of the same class have zero effect on one’s gender identity. You don’t exactly see many nonbinary robots running around, now do you? And there are definitely more than two spark types, despite the Transformers as a species being... very binary.

It also makes female Transformers into an “other”, which is a problem that has existed from the very start of the franchise, in some form or fashion, and really doesn’t need to be perpetrated anymore than it already is.

The estriol spark type was removed in the trade edition, and Roberts has expressed regrets over its inclusion, having realized that it was potentially offensive.

Getting back to the story, Swerve, Tailgate, and Ratchet have disappeared, though Ratchet seems to have left his hands behind. His stolen, Pharma-original hands.

That’s still fucked up to me. I don’t think it’ll ever not be fucked up.

Riptide reveals the reason that he wasn’t in Season One of MTMTE was because when he went back to grab a receipt for the ship two years prior, he’d discovered that the original owners were worshipers of Mortilus, Cybertronian god of death, and knew about the nasty little problem that was the sparkeater from the first storyline. When Riptide went to confront them about it, they beat him up so bad he was unconscious for two solid days.

Which is a long-ass time to be unconscious. That might have been a coma, Riptide. Jesus, I hope someone got him to a hospital after this beatdown happened, or at least scraped him off the floor.

With this last piece of the puzzle, we finally have the common denominator in this big ol’ mystery. Everyone who disappeared was on the Lost Light when it took off from Cybertron in issue #1, and everyone left behind- Skids, Getaway, Nightbeat, Nautica, Megatron, and Ravage- didn’t join until afterwords.

Of course, having the answer doesn’t do us much good when everyone is still missing, and Megatron seems to agree with me, because he’s about to throw hands, when Nautica lets them know that they’ve arrived at the rendezvous. Problem is, so has something else.

...

I’m sure it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #issue 31 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #incoming analysis #overthinking about robots #comic script writing

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