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emsylcatac · 4 years

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Questions regarding issues in ML & putting them in a French cultural context

Following this post about French culture & Cheek kisses with a ML interpretation, and these asks posts (part 1, part 2, part 3), I’ve been asked to analyse some aspects regarding the latest Chat Noir salt circulating around in a French cultural context.

While the post I made about cheek kisses was only light-hearted cultural information, this one deals with heavier issues so if you’re not interested about it and just like to enjoy the cute cartoon without digging into fandom salt discourses, feel free to ignore it.

I’m going to answer @flightfoot‘s questions here that will be copied and past; buckle up because it’s gonna be a VERY long post and I will dig deep but I will try to keep the tone as informative and neutral as possible and analyse everything step by step.

I will also remind once again that Miraculous, as a comic kids cartoon, exaggerates lots of things regarding behaviour and characters’ actions: all of that for kids to understand more easily what’s happening, the characters feelings and/or for comedic purposes. Not everything is to be taken literally and applied in a real life situation.

Again, this is my perspective as a radom French person and another French might give a different analysis, but here is mine.

/!\ WARNING: This post will give definitions of sexual harassment & aggression. While I don’t think I’m being too heavy on it (I’m still analysing a kids cartoon mind you), if these are a trigger for you, please do not continue reading or read at your own risks. The rest of the post will be undercut:

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First things first, I will translate as best as I can the definition of sexual harassment as it is written in the French penal code:

“Sexual harassment is characterised by imposing on a person repeatedly words or behaviours that have a sexual or sexist connotation and that:

harm their dignity by degrading or humiliating them

or create an intimidating, hostile or offensive situation for them.

Sexual harassment is assimilating any form of serious pressure (even if not repeated) with the real or apparent aim of obtaining a sexual act, for the benefit of the perpetrator or a third party.”

... And I will do the same with the definition of sexual assault, also translated as written in the French penal code:

“Sexual assault is any non-penetrative sexual attempt on a victim with violence, coercion or threat. For example, touching.

For sexual assault to occur, physical contact is required between the perpetrator and the victim.

Sexual assault can also occur by surprise if the perpetrator acts when the victim is not expecting it. For instance, in crowds in public transports.

In all cases, the perpetrator hasn’t obtained the clear and explicit consent of the victim:

Either the victim has expressed a clear and explicit refusal and/or defended themselves but the aggressor has applied on them a physical coercion; it is the case if violence is used.

Either the victim hasn’t expressed a clear and explicit refusal and/or defended themselves because they were under moral coercion.; it is the case when the victim is under psychological pressure, when the victim doesn’t dare to say anything in front of the perpetrator (e.g. between an employee and her boss).

Either the victim wasn’t in a position to give a clear answer (for instance, a victim under the influence of drug or alcohol, or the victim is vulnerable because of their state of health).

Attempt to a sexual assault is equally punished; attempt occurs if the perpetrator tried to assault their victim but failed because of something out of their control (the victim defended themselves...).”

Okay, theory part being dealt with, room for questions!

(I’m not going to comment on the fact that I’m legit bringing French penal code’s definition to apply in a kids cartoon and that people the characters’ age don’t even know but well here we are. I said I was going to dig deep, happy ride.)

1. So first question:

1 · “I also wanted to ask about the times when Chat has leaned in for a kiss - albeit never seriously, like in Prime Queen or Weredad. That would be taken badly in the U.S., since kissing is so serious, that that kind of more “joking” kind of kissing would likely get Chat written up in a U.S. school and placed in in-school suspension, and at the very least would warrant a stern and pointed lecture about never, ever leaning in for a kiss that’s not clearly wanted, even as a joke, even if it’s stopped. I wanted to get your perspective on that.”

I asked about what you said to some other American friends so that I could have more insights on the matter, and apparently not all of them completely agree about the fact that he would be suspended for jokingly leaning in and all. So maybe it depends how strict the school you go to in America can be.

Anyway, in France: once again this all depends on the persons involved, their relationship to each other, how comfortable they are together. Obviously a stranger (aka someone you just met for the first time) leaning in for a kiss even jokingly won’t be well perceived at all and definitely would deserve at the very least a lecture (and more than that I’d say). But Chat Noir is no stranger to Ladybug; he is her friend, her partner, and she doesn’t feel threatened by him at all because she knows him and how he reacts: they have established their boundaries. And more importantly, he stops when she asks him to: in all these regards, Chat Noir wouldn’t get a scold or a lecture in school because it is something that can be dealt with between the two persons involved.

What also needs to be understood is that the context where Chat Noir leaned in in Prime Queen for instance is very different to the one in a playground. And for that, I will have to give an analysis of the events in Prime Queen and why none of what happened is sexual harassment or assault. I will put that in parallel with Félix. (I warned you this was gonna be a hell of a long post). I’m not going to talk about Lila because I need the same person involved -- Ladybug -- but I could have. I’ve obviously rewatched the episode just before making this post so everything is fresh in my mind.

1. a. Prime Queen - analysis

There is a reason why it is in this particular episode that we see Chat Noir leaning in for a kiss and not another episode. And let me remind you about what happens at the beginning of the episode, specifically during Nadja Chamack’s interview to LB & CN:

Nadja is trying to make LB & CN admit that their relationship is more than solely partnership or friendship by showing them a bunch of photos taken out of their context. While they both know when these happened, one of them is still unknown to Chat Noir: the one where Ladybug kissed him.

(Translated form French because I’m too lazy to look for another video & it gives more French context since translations from FV to EV aren’t always the same, but anyway to remind you what is being said):

CN: What?! When did this happen?

LB: I was trying to save you, not to kiss you!

So Chat Noir learned that in order to save him & beat an akuma, Ladybug kissed him. Following by Ladybug saying: “It doesn’t mean anything, these images have been taken out of their context. All we were doing was our job, we save the city together every day, we are not a couple.”

... Yeah. You get where I’m going with this. All these information go to Chat Noir’s lovesick teenage brain and if Ladybug had to kiss him in order to beat the akuma, why can’t it be the solution again if the mission needs it? He’s certainly open to repeat this plan. Furthermore, Prime Queen is an akuma that seeks proof of them as a couple.

So, first instance Chat Noir leans in for a kiss: Prime Queen tells them that a confession isn’t enough; as proof, she wants them to take off their mask and give them their miraculous. Chat Noir, knowing what he just learned before from Dark Cupid, offers a kiss as a proof instead of their Miraculous: 1. It isn’t too far fetch of a reasoning, and Ladybug is the one who said to Prime Queen they were a couple and asked Chat Noir to ‘play along’ 2. There sure is ulterior motives since it would be an added bonus to be able to kiss Ladybug but she did it to him while he wasn’t aware of it, so maybe she wouldn’t mind doing it again 3. He leans in slowly, giving her all the time to pull back

LB: Now is not the time, my kitty.

As soon as she says those words, he stops and draws back. If you look at Ladybug’s reaction, at no point does she look uncomfortable or threatened: she knows Chat Noir will stop the instant she asks because she knows him. She doesn’t even budge or lift a finger to his lips because she knows she doesn't need to. She maintains her position, has an annoyed look on her face and says it’s not the time.

Second instance where Chat Noir leans in for a kiss: it’s basically the same except they’re stuck and Prime Queen threatens to drop Alya in the Seine. They’re both stressed so Chat Noir brought the kiss back jokingly again. I don’t think here he expects her to accept anyway. But it’s to him once again an option worth considering against the akuma since he has no idea what to do and she said cataclysm was useless when he asked if he should use it.

LB: Now is still not the time, my kitty.

Again, same reactions: he leans in slowly, she waits a bit before speaking and as soon as she opens her mouth he stops and draws back. Again, she doesn’t move at all from her position nor even feels the need to lift a finger.

All of that being analysed and put into perspective with the context of the episode which is, mind I remind you again, the one where Chat Noir discovers he had been unknowingly kissed by Ladybug in order to defeat an akuma, as well as an episode where the option of kissing isn’t too far fetch of a plan in this akuma situation, let’s check again the French definitions:

Regarding sexual harassement: there is no harm on Ladybug’s dignity by degrading or humiliating her, and Chat Noir doesn’t create an intimidating, hostile or offensive situation for her. At most, she is annoyed. It is therefore not a case of sexual harassment.

Regarding sexual assault: well do I really need to detail that one knowing that she explicitly gave her refusal of the kiss and he stopped right away? It is then again not a case of sexual assault.

I will add as well that nothing in Chat Noir’s behaviour indicates that he has a certain power over her or that he is dominating the situation: he is not. Ladybug is still in control of everything happening.

1.b. Félix comparison

Okay, now to compare this with the Félix situation in which I hope we’ll all agree there’s at the very least sexual harassment involved, otherwise an attempt to sexual assault.

(I think this scene has been analysed and analysed over and over again but if you don’t want to loose too much time to find a post about it, well here is my take on it that I’ll use to compare with Prime Queen.)

First of, let’s consider three things here:

Ladybug’s relationship to Adrien: while she knows him as Marinette and is friend with him, the both of them don’t have a close relationship like Ladybug & Chat Noir have. Therefore, between Marinette and Adrien, boundaries have been less established and tested. This is even more the case in Ladybug & Adrien’s relationship because they technically only have met a handful of times. So had Adrien just playfully leaned in for a kiss, it wouldn’t have been well perceived by Ladybug (well at least if she wasn’t in love with him, but still if it comes out of nowhere.. no) contrary to if it was Chat Noir who was playfully leaning in.

Ladybug’s relationship to Félix: she doesn't know Félix at all; Félix playfully leaning in for a kiss even if stopped would be even worse than Adrien as civilian doing it. Félix not even playfully leaning in is... Bad.

Félix is impersonating someone, aka Adrien, and tried to kiss someone.

We therefore already have major differences in this case compared to the Prime Queen situation: boundaries not established between the two persons, the two persons meeting for the first time AND identity thievery. And no akuma involved in which kissing could be a plan option.

Then, how does Félix proceeds on his attempt to kiss her and what is Ladybug’s obvious reaction?

He is moving towards her. She is immediately backing away, an intimidated & scared look on her face and her hands & arms are coming a bit up.

All of that to back her against the wall, where she won’t have room to escape.

Ok, so hand on the wall, and Ladybug’s position clearly indicating she feels unsafe. I think we can all see the differences in her reaction there compared to how she felt with Chat Noir in Prime Queen and we can all see the differences of behaviours between Chat Noir’s and Félix’s.

LB: Uh, what? Wait but NO!

Clearly, even if she loves Adrien, this is not the kind of behaviour she would expect from him given their current relationship and lack of established boundaries. It is made of course worse by the fact that it isn’t even Adrien.

Screenshots of Ladybug’s face that I’ll invite you to compare to the one she pulled in Prime Queen when Chat leans in for a kiss that I’ve put above:

And why does Félix stop? You all know that, we all loved that scene (I couldn’t find the gif and I’m very sad about it):

Ok so once again, let’s check in the French context (and I think we all agree this isn’t only a French cultural thing but we’ll look at the French standards definitions there):

Regarding sexual harassement: Félix clearly creates an intimidating and hostile situation for Ladybug. She feels unsafe and scared and it shows on her behaviour, body language & facial expression. It is therefore a case of sexual harassment.

Regarding sexual assault: there is coercion of backing Ladybug against a wall, giving her less room for escape. Ladybug has clearly and explicitly expressed her refusal, yet Félix is still trying to force a kiss onto her. The reason he failed is because something out of his control happened, aka Ladybug defended herself, aka Ladybug punched him. It is then an attempt to a sexual assault.

In conclusion to the comparison between Chat Noir in Prime Queen and Félix in, well, Félix, here are the key points differences that make one’s behaviour sexual harassment and the other not:

Chat Noir & Ladybug’s established boundaries; their friendship and partnership and the need for physical contacts due to fighting together. Communication. Refusal taken into account and respected. Akuma related. Ladybug has kissed him before for akuma related reasons.

Ladybug & Félix being stranger to each other; no boundaries established due to meeting for the first time & lack of friendship or any kind of relationship. No communication. Refusal not taken into account and not respected. Identity theft.

1.c. Weredad analysis

Ok so since flightfoot mentioned Weredad, I’m going to do a quick analysis of this instance where Chat Noir leaned in for a kiss because I feel like if I don’t do it, some people might point it out to me. Again, I rewatched the scene where it happened (not the whole episode though but it was not necessary).

And once again, there is a reason why Weredad is the other occurrence where this happens. For that we need to look at the general plot of the episode: the Marichat. The episode deals with Marinette falsely ‘confessing’ for Chat Noir and him rejecting her.

And for that, kids need to be reminded who each of their heart belongs to. It will help them grasp more the comedic and irony of the situation. So what better way to do it than starting the episode with a Ladynoir scene where:

Chat Noir is flirting with Ladybug and playfully telling her that ‘his heart is prisoner of her adorable eyes forever’, before playfully leaning in as if he was about to kiss her

Ladybug crashing in the Adrien billboard right after, sighing lovesickingly saying “Adrien’s lips, the dream!”

With that scene, we’re reminded (even if it’s obvious) that Marinette is still pursuing Adrien and Chat Noir is pursuing Ladybug. This is also simply a comical process: Ladybug unknowingly missing the very lips she is dreaming of. It makes the Marichat scenes even more ironic thanks to that.

It’s also not disturbing because they’re playfully bantering together, Chat Noir wasn’t really going to kiss her and they both know it ( someone as romantic as him wouldn’t want his first kiss with the girl of his dreams to be like that) and he is just playing the fool as always as suggested by his voice’s intonation (at least in French it’s super obvious).

Proof is, Ladybug doesn’t even react to what happened and teasingly rejects him back.

Conclusion to this question 1 :

Knowing the contexts of the episodes these events occurred, the dynamic of our characters, and the respect of boundaries: no, in a French cultural context anyway, Chat Noir wouldn’t get a scold or get in school-suspension and his actions aren’t sexual harassment.

As for my personal perspective, I’ve never been shocked by his actions and behaviour considering the Ladynoir dynamic. I’ll repeat once again what I said in an ask: that I’m someone pretty serious on the sexual harassment & all issues and definitely wouldn’t let it slide if it were the case.

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2. Second Question:

2 · I also wanted to ask about him calling her “bugaboo”; judging by his expression and her reaction, it looked like he intends it in a “lightly annoying, more teasing” way, and judging by her general reaction, that seems to be how she takes it, especially since she’s then teased him right back before, with calling him “Banananoir” and “Bugaboy” in return in Feast and Reflekdoll respectively. However, it can come off as being something much more serious by U.S. cultural standards, since she HAS asked him to stop repeatedly and he hasn’t, and since “Bugaboo” is a sort of pet name, it can come off as sexual harassment. What’s your perspective on this?

(Don’t worry everyone reading, this part will be way less long than the first question. If you’re still with me and I haven’t lost you yet, congrats! You deserve the ‘I’ve put up with Emsy’s long ramblings so I’m a warrior’ medal aware.)

Once again, I asked about other American friends and they didn’t all agree that him calling her ‘Bugaboo’ could be considered a form of sexual harassment. I guess it depends again on a lot of factors, but anyway: in France.

It is pretty common to give your friends silly and ridiculous nicknames. So I’m gonna make a list of instances where giving someone a nickname can be deemed inappropriate in France that come to mind:

a stranger giving you a nickname especially when they do not know your name; depending on the context of the situation (if it’s someone wanting to flirt inappropriately with you in the street for instance) it can be considered harassment or sexual harassment coupled with certain behaviours

a person or a group of persons you know but aren’t your friends, and are known to bully and harass you

if the nickname given by a friend has sexual connotation and you mind it.

‘Bugaboo’ doesn’t fit in any of these cases: it’s an affectionate nickname destined to a friend. You’ll notice that Chat Noir doesn’t start to call her that before a few episodes in in season 1.

Yes, she is a bit annoyed and that’s also precisely why he continues because he likes to tease her so she can tease him back. However the reason she asks him to stop is because it’s a ridiculous nickname in my opinion more than anything else. It’s definitely not as bad as ‘Adrikins’ (or ‘Adrichou’ in French) though but it is part of their banter and she indeed sees it that way.

She herself gives him plenty of nicknames that are as ridiculous so it’s give and take. As you said, she wouldn’t tease him by calling him ‘Bugaboy’ or ‘Bananoir’ back.

In French, the nickname is ‘Buguinette’. When you add an ‘-ette’ at the end of a name to make it a nickname, it implies ‘little’. So ‘Buguinette’ is basically him calling her ‘little bug’.

@coucouchatmoi also asked me if the reason him calling her ‘Buguinette’ annoys her is because it’s a teasing nickname or because it’s close to her civilian name, and I don’t think it has anything to do with her civilian name. It’s just because it’s affectionate and teasing.

Nicknames Ladybug calls him in French (there’s ‘Kitty’ in English): Chaton, mon Chaton, Chatounet (I think once or twice and this is typically the kind of affectionate ridiculous nickname Buguinette is; the ‘-ounet’ for a boy also implies ‘little’. Though Chatounet sounds way more ridiculous than Buguinette), Minou, mon Minou... Side note: I’m actually kinda cringing with the ‘mon Minou’ one because there could be (’could’ being the key word, it’s a kids show so it’s not what is aimed for) perceived in France as having a little bit of sexual connotation. So it’s not at all used that way and the instances where it’s used are usually alright but yeah. Careful with the cat nicknames when you want to use them in French in your fanfics. Anyway, this to say that Ladybug’s nicknames for Chat Noir can be worse than his for her.

Again, I’ll put it into perspective with the sexual harassment definition so it’s dealt with:

Him calling her Bugaboo/Buguinette isn’t harming her dignity and isn’t degrading or humiliating her; it doesn’t create an intimidating, hostile or offensive situation. Therefore, it’s not a case of sexual harassment.

Conclusion for question 2:

No, in France, him calling her Bugaboo/Buguinette is definitely not considered sexual harassment even if she asked to stop because it’s all part of their banter and teasing. At least to me its seems reeeaaally far fetch to even possibly consider it that.

Again, it’s also all part of the Ladynoir dynamic and the comic tone of Miraculous as a cartoon.

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And this is finally the end of this very very long post. I hope I answered the questions as best as I could and that what I said was clear for everyone. Thank you & congrats if you have read it all ;)

I tried to stay factual as much as possible in this and take as much things into account as I could. You’ll also notice that I didn’t bring up anything regarding Adrien’s social skill, statue as an abused victim or age because I didn’t even need to to conclude what I did.

If some of you want to have more info on French culture & perspectives regarding the show feel free to ask me; hopefully I won't have to make other posts regarding sexual harassment because I feel like I’ve talked enough about the issue between this post and the asks posts I linked at the beginning, and I’d love to talk about other aspects than salt discourses.

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villainess-noble-girl · 3 years

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Title: Second-Year Valentine's Day

Author: meiberry

Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12852677/1/Second-Year-Valentine-s-Day

Fandom: Kenkyo Kenjitsu

Pairing: EnjouXReika

Photo: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/67148847

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"No. I'm not going to take it. It's going to make me sleepy. Plus it tastes like soap."

The muffled voice of Yukino came from beneath the covers. The IV drip tube poked out from the ball of sheets in the hospital bed.

Shuusuke sighed at his little brother's stubborn actions. Good thing he came prepared for this. "Yukino. Kisshouin-san wrote you a letter."

The ball of sheets shifted, and Yukino's head popped out from beneath the covers, his doe peering up at Enjou in surprise. "...Reika-oneesama?"

Shuusuke held up a small pink envelope with "Yukino-kun" written in neat handwriting in the center. Yukino reached for it when Shuusuke swept it back out of reach with a gentle smile.

"..." Sullenly, Yukino obediently drank the medicine. Watching as he finished it, Shuusuke patted his head and handed him a glass of water with a piece of candy to take care of the medicine's bitter aftertaste. Yukino popped the candy in his mouth with one hand and eagerly held out the other, looking up at Shuusuke expectantly. Shuusuke handed him the letter and watched as his little brother opened it earnestly.

In the beginning, Shuusuke was pretty surprised to see him get along so well with an older girl. Usually, Yukino was not so nice. He was a really smart kid for his young age, and many older girls had been trapped by his soft, harmless facade only to be humiliated and insulted beyond repair. But recently, Shuusuke found that with Kisshouin, Yukino seemed to genuinely act like his appearance.

Shuusuke could see why. Kisshouin clearly didn't have any ulterior motives when speaking to Yukino. Older girls usually saw Yukino as a means to an end. If they weren't patronizing then they were obsequious, obviously trying to use the younger brother to get to the older one. But when it came to Kisshouin… if anything, it was as if her treatment of the two brothers was reversed. In the ten years of knowing her, the very first time that Kisshouin started a one-on-one conversation with Shuusuke that lasted longer than one minute happened to be because Yukino. It was a dreadfully humbling experience. Yukino has sure put up with a lot these past few years.

In any case, no matter how devilish he was to other people, in the end, Yukino really was still a little boy, and Shuusuke was simply grateful that he was able to be just a normal, cute kid with someone, even if it was a girl who clearly didn't put Shuusuke in her eyes.

He watched peacefully as his little brother's eyes happily flew across the letter.

"Kisshouin-san really cares about Yukino."

Yukino shot a glance over at him, "What? Is oniisama jealous?" And then he continued reading his letter.

"And don't think that I don't realize you told her to write this to make me obediently stay in the hospital."

Shuusuke smiled wryly. When he could tell Yukino was finished reading, he continued, "Well, Yukino seems to really like Kisshouin-san. I thought maybe you would listen if she asked you personally."

Yukino smiled, happy from finishing Kisshouin's letter. "Yeah, I do like her. Reika-oneesama is really nice and she's not just pretending. Do you want to read it, oniisama? I'll let you read it, since you asked her to write this for me. I'm going to the bathroom."

Yukino handed the letter to Shuusuke as he climbed out of bed and grabbed at his drip stand to roll it into the bathroom in the room.

Shuusuke blinked at the letter in his hands. Although he didn't ask to read it, he was honestly pretty curious. What did she say to Yukino to cheer him up, anyways?

The letter was not very long, and it fit neatly on the cute stationary decorated with little birds and vines.

Yukino-kun,

Enjou-sama told me that you are admitted to the hospital. I am worried for your health. Your family must be even more worried than me. I hope you take care of your body because many people care about you very much, and we want for you to quickly become well again. With that said, I hope you listen to the doctor so that you can leave the hospital soon. I know that sometimes it is really hard to do something you don't like. But experts have their reasons for their advice.

Recently I have been learning to make desserts from a friend. To be honest, my dessert-making skill is much farther behind my cooking. I think I know what to do when I try to be creative and individual with my own ideas, but actually, my friend tells me that the greatest mistake in baking is not following from the recipe. This is completely different from cooking, where not following the recipe is not that big of a deal. When I listened to my friend, I made a dessert more delicious than anything I'd ever made in my life! I realized at that moment, ah, so that is the difference between a normal person and an expert. With that said, I hope you understand the importance of listening to experts such as your doctor.

When you come back, you'll be able to see your other friends and me in the Petite Pivoine salon again.

Wishing you a quick recovery,

Kisshouin Reika

By the time Yukino returned from the bathroom, Shuusuke had already finished reading the letter and had set it on the tray over the foot of Yukino's bed.

"So, what did you think of Kisshouin-san's letter? Are you going to listen to her when she asks to you listen to to doctor's advice?"

"I guess." Yukino sat at the foot of the bed and picked up the letter again, folding it and carefully putting it back in its envelope before he flopped back into bed, pulling the covers over himself. "The way she asks me to listen to the doctor is just less irritating than when you ask me to listen to the doctor."

Shuusuke helped put the covers over Yukino.

"I wonder why Reika-oneesama is learning to make desserts." Yukino looked at Shuusuke, his eyes widening. "Valentine's Day is coming up, isn't it? I wonder what Reika-oneesama is making…"

"Hmm. Who knows."

"I wonder if she's learning to bake something for the person she likes..."

"Hmm. Who knows."

Yukino's eyes widened like big dark marbles as he looked at Shuusuke.

"You're curious, too, aren't you oniisama? Ne, ne, what kinds of sweets has oniisama received from Reika-oneesama on Valentine's day?"

"Actually, I've never received anything from Kisshouin-san on Valentine's Day."

"Ehhhhh!"

Shuusuke thought about how in the ten years since he's known Kisshouin Reika, she has never given anyone Valentine's chocolates. Year after year, the whole school secretly held its breath in wonder at who the Goddess Kali of Suiran would afflict with her attentions. And year after year the answer was an anti-climatic… nobody.

Kisshouin Reika never gave anybody at Suiran chocolates for Valentine's day. Him and Masaya were not excluded.

Ah, wait, that's not right. Last year she gave courtesy chocolates to the student council president. In fact, Shuusuke was the one who pointed this out to Masaya... Even though she had done it in secret, for Kisshouin Reika to give chocolates to a guy at Suiran was no small matter and in the end the word leaked anyways. Because she had done it pretty secretively, there were no massive rumours, but the thing about secrets was that they always spread. Shuusuke heard about it from the more low-key sources.

Back then, he had remembered how she seemed to have had a crush on the same student council president back in middle school, but nothing had happened even after all these years. For nothing to have happened all this time, what other conclusion was it other than unrequited love? He hinted at this story of camaraderie to Masaya in hopes of inspiring him to move on with his life. Unrequited love was not the end of the world. Just look at Kisshouin-san.

Who knew that the whole thing would have worked out so beautifully at graduation. Tomoe Senju actually had a girlfriend! And he called Kisshouin Reika a sister in front of everybody. Masaya was so moved by Kisshouin's composure and courage. Shuusuke felt like he was watching Masaya watch a romance movie. Out of all the times that he's taken advantage of Kisshouin, Shuusuke felt most proud about the way that one turned out. Witnessing the way Kisshouin "handled" the student council president's "public rejection" totally inspired Masaya and brought him back from depression. He completely recovered from Yurie's rejection after that.

Yukino's marble eyes seemed to glitter in wonder as he looked up at the handsome young man sitting beside the bed.

"Wow, even though every year it seems like you get chocolates from every single girl we know, there is actually one girl who has never given you any chocolates… not even once! Hehhh..."

Yukino did not look or sound sympathetic at all with the the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

"That reminds me... when we first met and I introduced myself, Reika-oneesama made a 'geh!' face when she heard my name, like she was really saddened to hear that Oniisama was my oniisama... I thought that maybe she hated you!"

"Hmm. I sure hope Kisshouin-san doesn't hate me. But if she does hate me, then that's unfortunate."

"No, no. I don't think Reika-oneesama hates you, Oniisama! She probably doesn't even think about you at all."

"..." Shuusuke's expression remained serene as he stayed silent.

Yukino looked at his face and suddenly giggled. Shuusuke joined in with a few chuckles. For a short moment, they laughed together.

"Ahahaha…"

"Hahaha…"

"..."

Yukino turned over in bed. "Don't worry, oniisama. Maybe one day Reika-oneesama will also remember to give you chocolates, too."

"..."

"Oh yeah, oniisama, could you find me something to write with? I want to write Reika-oneesama a reply."

"...Alright. I'll go find you some paper."

The next morning, Shuusuke thanked Kisshouin for her letter to Yukino. She looked really happy that it helped. Yeah, it was really useful. She was pretty humble.

"Yukino said that it was fun to read about making sweets."

"I could only think of unimportant things to say… well..."

Hm, there it was. Shuusuke could always hear the instant whenever it sounded like Kisshouin was trying to wrap up a conversation and escape. Usually, he'd just let her go. But for some reason, he didn't feel like it this time. The words Yukino said yesterday skipped around his mind, reviving an old and annoying itch.

"So Kisshouin-san is making sweets. Could it be that on Valentine's day..."

"Umm…" He watched as Kisshouin's eyes lowered, her cheeks blushing very lightly. He could imagine her cheeks must have been warm to the touch now. "Yes..."

"Hn."

It'd be a lie to say that he never expected any chocolates from Kisshouin Reika. It wasn't to say that he wanted her chocolates or anything like that. In fact, the idea of actually eating Kisshouin Reika's handmade sweets seemed like something that belonged to the realms of extreme adventures and chemically dangerous thrill-seeking. Although, whether or not Reika's chocolates are edible, Shuusuke wouldn't want to eat them anyways, as he didn't have a sweet tooth, but...

...He still expected to get them.

It was about logic. If a girl knew Enjou Shuusuke, then she would give him chocolates on Valentine's day. (The same applied to Kaburagi Masaya.) Three of five of chocolates would be honmei. That was the rule. He knew it was a very unique and extraordinary rule. Certainly not every boy in the world had the ridiculous privilege of receiving a mountain of chocolates and sweets from all the girls he knew. But, that was his experience.

In accordance with his life experience, it was natural to expect chocolates from a girl he knew when he's always received chocolates from every girl he knew. With no exceptions.

Except this one.

#villainess noble girl #fanfic #light novel #kenkyo kenjitsu #EnjouXReika #Enjou Shuusuke #Kisshouin Reika #Japanese noble girl #isekai

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gerrystamour · 4 years

Text

the bittersweet between my teeth - Chapter 4

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

Some Important Notes:

The smut is available only on AO3! Link to the AO3 fic in my pinned post!

Nureyev is a gender euphoric trans man who has not had top-surgery and does not wear a binder. I use a mix of masculine and feminine terminology for his anatomy and genitalia, as I do for my own body as a transmasc individual. If this makes you uncomfortable, that is totally understandable, and I recommend skipping the smut.

This chapter is being posted early mostly because Chapters 3 and 4 were originally one whole chapter, which I split in half because of length. So consider this a bit of an Angel of Brahma style release. ;p

I am altering my update schedule for the last time! Please see my pinned post for the new schedule.

I'm working on a two-chapter Epilogue ficlet, which I hope to publish on Sunday, Nov 8, so keep an eye out for that.

Chapter Four [Previous Chapter] [First Chapter]

- - - - - Juno’s POV - - - - -

“My name is Peter Nureyev.”

Juno took in a shaky breath, trying to still his thoughts, which were suddenly racing with this new information.

“... What?” he asked quietly after a few moments, and immediately cringed at the stupid question. Juno knew Rex wasn’t his real name, he knew it all along so this wasn’t a revelation on its own.

Or at least it shouldn’t have been. At some point over their evening together, he had stopped thinking of ‘Rex Glass’ as a fake name, and this knocked Juno off balance.

But he could handle it, had demanded that information even. If Juno was a bit terrified to look at him though, he didn’t have to admit it.

“My name is Peter Nureyev,” the man underneath him repeated as he took a deep breath. “I’m a thief, and a very good one at that.”

Juno pulled back to look at Peter Nureyev, narrowing his eye at the stoic and hard expression the man wore. The corners of Nureyev’s mouth were tight and angled downward and Juno desperately wanted to kiss that stress away.

“I was hired,” Nureyev continued stiffly, the words sounding dragged out of him, “by a gentleman to regain some property that was taken.”

Ice filled Juno’s veins as he stared at Nureyev, something in his tone tickling the back of his mind. Why would a master thief be interested in him and look so tense as he confessed, he wondered. The answer came to him and felt like someone had punched him in the gut; he was Juno Steel, the one private eye in Hyperion City with a high-profile, nearly botched job on his record.

Humiliation burned in Juno’s gut and his face, and his mind began racing around how he was going to get out of Nureyev’s lap without looking like he was running away.

“Why does he need a thief.” He hadn’t even realized he was talking until the words were hanging in the air between them. It wasn’t a question as much as it was a statement, and the way Nureyev’s expression folded, his lips curving downward and his eyes softening at the corners, was all the confirmation Juno needed.

But he had to hear him say it. He had to hear the words come from Nureyev.

“No, finish that thought. I want to hear you say it.”

“Juno—”

“Just fucking say it, Diamond!”

Nureyev’s hands twitched where he still held Juno’s wrists, bringing Juno back from his swirling thoughts.

“Juno—” the thief began, and Juno could hear the excuses in his tone already.

“Why does he need a thief, Nureyev? Why didn’t he hire a detective?” Juno demanded, and he can feel himself shaking as well.

“Juno, I want you to know—”

“Just tell me, Nureyev!” Juno hissed through his teeth, and to his dismay tears had sprung to his eyes.

Nureyev licked his lips a bit nervously, and said, “His property was taken by the HCPD in a raid on an associate’s safehouse five years ago.”

Juno had begun laughing bitterly the moment Nureyev had mentioned the HCPD. A hollow, desperate ache settled in his chest, his eyes stinging from the pain. It was stupid to feel so hurt, but it was just the sort of prank whatever higher beings existed would play on him.

“Of fucking course,” Juno bit out, looking up at the ceiling. It was always too good to be true, he knew the other shoe would drop eventually, knew there was no reason someone as gorgeous and mysterious as Nureyev would even look twice at him if they didn’t have ulterior motives.

“That’s why you’re here. I knew it the moment I saw you at Hyperion Brewing, but I talked myself out of it. But that’s why you’re here,” Juno finally admitted to himself with a scoff, getting increasingly angry at himself for being so goddamn stupid. “You really know how to pick ‘em, Steel.”

“That isn’t why I’m here right now, nor why I’ve been seeing you,” Nureyev insisted, his voice pleading as Juno began to pull back. He let go of Juno’s wrists to gently hold his face. “Juno, please, believe that this is real—”

“Get your goddamn hands off me!” Juno snarled, jolting away from the touch as if he had been burned. Nureyev’s hands immediately fell away from Juno’s face, and he sat completely still while Juno climbed off his lap.

Juno could feel his hot blush as his dress fell open before he was able to catch it. He couldn’t even remember when the belt had been taken off, which just served to embarrass him even further.

“Juno, please listen—”

“If you say any of that ‘this is real’ bullshit, I will walk out right now, Nureyev,” Juno growled, and Nureyev’s mouth snapped shut.

They were quiet for a few moments while Juno located his belt and struggled to cinch it around his waist. His eyes were burning, his already limited vision blurry with his tears.

“No, you only started sniffing around me after that day at Hyperion Brewing. You’re just sticking around for information, or to spy on me, or whatever, so none of this is real!” Juno said bitterly, his hands shaking so badly he almost dropped his belt.

“I have never even come close to pressing for details about the job!” Nureyev defended himself, his tone annoyed. “All evening, I could have asked you about your eye, or your scars, under the guise of getting to know you, but I didn’t.”

Ice flooded his veins as Juno finally got the belt done up, the mention of his eye and his scars almost more painful than everything else. Of course Nureyev would have noticed, and he likely thought they were hideous just as everyone else did. But Juno was useful, Juno might have had information, so Nureyev was willing to tolerate him.

For a moment, all Juno could think about was Diamond pointing out his eyepatch constantly, the persistent suggestions to get a prosthetic eye and cosmetic surgery to clean up the scars. He was back in that apartment, after a year of surgeries and physical therapy, pleading with Diamond to understand just how much he didn’t want to go under again.

The humiliation of begging his fiance to still love him flared in him.

The moment Juno lost any semblance of usefulness, the disgust for his eye jumped to the forefront. It was the same sad story, one that Juno thought he was used to, but it hurt so much more with Nureyev.

“Oh, should I thank you then?” Juno asked, laughing bitterly. “Thanks for not asking about my worst job, my biggest goddamn failure, and amateur eye-surgery when you could have?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Juno—” Nureyev said, sounding frustrated.

“Do I?” Juno countered, and that seemed to give Nureyev pause. When the thief opened his mouth to refute, Juno shook his head. “There’s something called ‘the long game’, Nureyev. You not asking me tonight means nothing.”

Nureyev wisely kept his mouth shut and Juno had to look away. He looked miserable sitting there on the bed, his expression deeply sad with his mouth, jaw, and throat smudged with Juno’s dark lipstick. There was a twist in his gut that felt like doubt, and for a moment Juno wanted to crawl back into his lap and kiss him, to take back his angry words and resume the perfect evening.

Shaking himself, Juno remembered the months of fear, of keeping his head down and his mouth shut, of trying to hold everything together. Then Nureyev had the nerve to seduce him when he worked for the person who was responsible for all of that.

“I actually thought the Piranha was done having her lackeys follow me,” Juno laughed. “This is really cruel though, even for her.

“Juno, I’m no one’s ‘lackey’,” Nureyev said pleadingly, shaking his head. “I was interested in you before I knew you were involved—”

“And after?” Juno interrupted, crossing his arms tightly.

Nureyev looked up at him, confused and thrown off guard by the question. “After what?” he asked eventually, quiet and unsure.

“After you found out, Nureyev. When you found out, you kept coming, you made me—” ‘fall for you’ Juno thought, and just barely managed to stop himself. Taking a deep breath, Juno started over, his voice low with his anger. “When you found out who I was, how close I was to this, why did you keep coming around?”

Nureyev took a deep breath, and said, “I was immediately taken with you from the moment I saw you—”

“Come off it, Nureyev,” Juno scoffed, rolling his eyes even as butterflies swarmed his guts. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t ‘expect’ anything from you, Juno,” Nureyev said flatly, and that annoyance was back in his voice. “Except perhaps that you allow me to answer the questions you ask me.”

Juno huffed a loud breath and looked away. He wasn’t keen on admitting that Nureyev had a bit of a point.

“I saw you at the restaurant, and I was drawn to you, and I can’t explain why. You were handsome, and the way you looked at me… I was intrigued,” Nureyev explained haltingly and shrugged. “I found out your name from the owner. I didn’t know your connection to my job at the time.”

“Why would you be so interested in a complete stranger?” Juno asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, Juno!” Nureyev burst out, and he ran his hands back through his long hair. “I don’t normally let a pretty face capture my attention or distract me from a job! Remember, I’m a very good thief, which makes falling in love with part-time private eyes incredibly inconvenient.”

Juno’s insides froze as he said that, searching Nureyev’s face for a lie, especially surrounding the word ‘love’. Nureyev looked honest, his expression open and earnest for Juno to read, which was somehow the scariest thing in that moment.

But that wasn’t how the world worked, he thought bitterly. That man, the thief, came into his life— only occupying space in it for two weeks— and he was already making claims or allusions to feelings a partner of over a decade didn’t even have. It was impossible, and he would have to be pretty stupid to believe it.

“So ‘love at first sight’. That is what you’re trying to sell me?” Juno asked mockingly, emulating some of Benten’s sharp tone.

Nureyev’s jaw visibly twitched and a dark blush overcame his features. He was clearly getting frustrated with the conversation, and Juno prepared himself for anger, for the admission of his guilt.

“I’m not trying to sell you anything, least of all something so fanciful,” Nureyev finally replied, and his voice was softer than his intense gaze let on. “But I do care deeply for you now. Your ‘buying it’ has no bearing on the truth of it.”

Juno ground his teeth viciously, anger flashing through him that the thief would continue the act. That he wouldn’t just cut it out and admit it.

“So you were curious, we’ll go with that. Any smart criminal would find out that the tail they’re chasing is a part-time private eye and run the other way,” Juno said. “But you kept coming around, getting closer to me. Why?”

“I was selfish,” Nureyev admitted after a steadying breath through his nose. “I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”

“So, you played with my feelings?”

“I did not play with your feelings, Juno,” Nureyev replied earnestly, almost desperately. “But when it became obvious you reciprocated, I couldn’t hurt you by just disappearing.”

Juno laughed loudly at that. “And this is better?” he asked coldly, and Nureyev’s expression crumpled under it.

Juno wanted to stop, to shut his mouth and leave. He wanted so badly to just go home, crawl into his bed and hide.

“That job, Piranha and whoever she works for, ruined my life, Nureyev. The people you’re working for destroyed everything, and you come along and just—” Juno interrupts himself with a watery, harsh laugh, shaking his head. “You should’ve just left, Nureyev. I have plenty of experience with that. I would’ve survived.”

Juno immediately regretted the words the moment he said them, especially with the way Nureyev’s expression went slack and his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Your piss-poor attitude was only cute when you looked like—”

Juno opened his mouth to take it back but Nureyev just cleared his throat and stood, towering over him once again.

“Of course,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “As I said, it was selfish.”

Juno pinched the bridge of his nose as Nureyev left the bedroom to sit at the desk in the living room.

“Nureyev, listen, I didn’t mean—” Juno began as he followed Nureyev, watching as the man opened his laptop.

“No, you were right, Juno. I should have left you alone from the beginning,” Nureyev insisted. “This was foolish on my part.”

Juno felt his anger and hurt wane as he watched Nureyev. There was nothing too obvious to let on to his emotions, but there was the slightest slump to his usually perfect posture, which only served to break Juno’s heart further.

When Juno properly paid attention to what Nureyev was doing, he realized he was looking at surveillance feeds. “What are you doing?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“Deleting any surveillance video with my face, and also your arrival at the hotel,” he answered quietly, not even looking away from the monitor.

“You’ve been doing this every night?” That bloom of doubt was back, and Juno hated it.

“Yes, which has been getting exhausting. I’ve put off finishing this for too long,” Nureyev sighed. “I’ve been reckless, and it’s only a matter of time before I make a mistake if I haven’t already.”

Juno immediately recognised that fact, and the rest of his anger left him so suddenly he felt dizzy. “Why would you risk so much?”

Nureyev did not even pause in his work on the laptop as he smiled sadly and replied, “I’m sure you can divine my reasons from my previous statements, dear detective. You’re very clever.”

Juno felt his face heat up at the praise and felt annoyed at himself all over again. He was making himself the easiest mark ever for people like Nureyev.

Then the thief’s fingers faltered in their typing and he tipped his head thoughtfully. “What did you mean by ‘amateur eye surgery’?” Nureyev asked. “Or ‘the Piranha’ for that matter?”

Juno raised an eyebrow when Nureyev turned to look at him. “You haven’t met your employer’s pet thug?” he asked sceptically. “She’s a real piece of work, you know? Sadistic, and I mean, I go for a little pain—”

“Juno,” Nureyev interrupted softly, and snapped him out of his sarcastic tirade.

“Fine. She’s really ugly, missing an ear, tons of scars? Her teeth are all sharp—” Juno began, but he stopped abruptly as his heart rate picked up just thinking about her.

“She has an underbite?” Nureyev supplied and Juno nodded gratefully.

“That’s the one. I call her the Piranha. Didn’t really catch a name between her stun blast and…” Juno said, trailing off to gesture at his eye. At Nureyev’s blank look, he shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “C’mon Nureyev, you knew I lost my eye during that job. You said it yourself.”

Nureyev turned back to the laptop and clicked the keyboard a few more times before slowly shutting it. “I was under the impression— no, told your eye had been an injury sustained in an altercation,” Nureyev replied when he turned to meet Juno’s gaze again. “An accident.”

Juno frowned with a sceptical snort. “I mean, if torture falls under the ‘altercation’ umbrella, then yeah. But it wasn’t an accident.”

It was obvious that several pieces of information were clicking into place for Nureyev if his narrowed eyes were anything to go by. “Either my employer is unaware of this ‘Piranha’s’ true actions that day, or he lied to me,” Nureyev finally said after a moment, sucking his teeth a bit before saying, “I’m not sure which is worse.”

“Normally, I would say he lied to you. But she worked overtime to keep my mouth shut, so,” Juno said, trailing off with a shrug. The distinct feeling of panic overcame him, and he tried to calm himself down.

“What do you mean, Juno?” Nureyev asked, and his voice was so gentle, it made Juno want so much. He wanted to be held again, he wanted to crawl into bed and have strong arms wrapped around him tightly, he wanted Nureyev to kiss him again, if only to remind him that he was sitting in a hotel room and not in that dark, terrible cellar.

“She said whoever she worked for wouldn’t be happy if I died,” he replied, his words stilted as he said them. “Didn’t stop her from carving up my eye and stalking my loved ones, but hey. I survived.”

Juno sat heavily in the armchair near the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looked up again, he saw that Nureyev had turned to fully face him, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“When I was in the hospital, one of her goons came by and dropped an entire folder of pictures of Benten and Rita in my lap. Nothing else, just that. The asshole didn’t even say anything,” he said, his voice breaking a bit and his face felt hot as tears stung his eyes again. “She had me followed for months, and every couple of weeks a new goon would hand me a new folder full of new pictures.”

“Juno—” Nureyev began, lifting his hand as if to reach for Juno’s, but appeared to think better of it. Juno wished Nureyev had followed through, which he knew was ridiculous after the scene he had been making, so he shook it off with a deep breath.

“The worst was—” Juno choked on the words for a moment, the fear gripping him. “The worst was a picture of Benten. It was taken from inside his apartment. It was some guy Benten had brought home, someone he met at a bar. But the message was loud and clear.”

“Juno…” Nureyev murmured sadly, but said nothing else.

“So, I kept my mouth shut, accepted the pictures, confirmed that I understood, and kept my head down for months,” he finished explaining, shrugging a bit.

Nureyev was silent, watching his face with an unreadable expression.

“Fuck, all of that, and for nothing. Just to get dragged back into it all,” Juno muttered as an aside to himself. With a disgusted noise, Juno met Nureyev’s eyes. “Who’s your employer anyway? I know it’s one of Pereyra’s opponents, but I never found out who.”

“Ramses O’Flaherty,” Nureyev responded without hesitation and was startled at Juno’s bark of laughter.

“O’Flaherty? Bullshit,” Juno said with an eye-roll.

“I assure you, dear detective. It is Ramses O’Flaherty who is signing my paycheque,” Nureyev replied, a bit confused.

“But that makes no sense,” Juno argued, his incredulity almost palpable. “His political ads, his speeches, hell, his entire platform is built on being anti-crime and anti-cop! The Piranha and the crap I found at her safehouse are the complete opposite.”

Nureyev’s curiosity was piqued at that. “You saw what was in the cases?”

“Yeah?” Juno replied, a bit confused. “O’Flaherty didn’t tell you what was in them?”

“He was insistent that I refrain from looking,” Nureyev replied thoughtfully. “He was also going on about the Greater Good, though I had stopped listening at that point.”

“Yeah, that does sound like O’Flaherty,” Juno sighed. “The one case had a little chip in it. Something called the THEIA something or whatever. The other stuff was some tech, looked like drones with a ton of firepower. The inscription said they were—”

Juno cut himself off to think back, trying to remember the inscriptions and what they said. He jolted when he remembered that the items were from New Kinshasa, and they all were marked with G.A.S. preceding a series of numbers.

“Juno?” Nureyev prompted him gently, his voice filled with concern.

“The tech was from New Kinshasa,” Juno started cautiously, sucking in a deep breath when Nureyev tensed. “Some… hyper-mobile update to their Guardian Angel System.”

All of the colour left Nureyev’s face as he asked quietly, “... What?” Juno could see in Nureyev’s eyes that he was living a waking nightmare, and he wanted to stop the entire conversation and hold him.

“Back then, I sent Rita a picture of the stuff and had her look it up. Turns out, about twenty years ago, New Kinshasa started pouring a ton of money into R&D,” Juno explained instead. “I guess some radicals almost destroyed the whole city, so they wanted something that wouldn’t be so easy to take down.”

“And how did O’Flaherty come into possession of this?” Nureyev asked, his voice shaking with barely concealed anger. Juno could understand that feeling.

“Well, with the end of the war and Brahma joining the Solar government, they needed money,” Juno replied with an angry laugh. “They started selling units to interested parties to test the whole thing. Nothing says ‘peace’ like a government institution selling weapons to private investors.”

Nureyev smirked at the sarcasm, but his voice was tight as he asked, “And what did you learn about these radicals?”

“Not much,” he replied with a shrug, and is startled a bit by the sharp look Nureyev gives him. “I mean, Rita probably knew more at the time, but then she went off about some betrayal plot on one of her streams.”

“But after the case—”

“Nureyev, everyone I loved was being threatened after the case,” Juno reminded him. “I told Rita to get rid of all that info she dug up after the first goon threatened me in the hospital.”

Nureyev nodded woodenly, his eyes distant as he apparently stared at Juno’s knees.

“You okay, Nureyev?” Juno asked, and it came out far more tenderly than he wanted it to be, but he couldn’t help it.

Nureyev snapped out of his thoughts and met Juno’s gaze again with a distracted, “Hm?”

“You went somewhere far away,” Juno said, and he wanted to hold Nureyev’s hand, to bring him back and soothe that troubled expression from his face.

Nureyev watched Juno as well, obviously debating something behind his bright eyes. Something shifted in Nureyev’s expression, something sharp and dangerous, and Juno felt his breath catch in his throat.

“I’m planning to steal the weapons and have them destroyed,” Nureyev said firmly. “They shouldn’t be in anyone’s hands.”

“Glad to hear it,” Juno said, aiming for sarcastic, but it came out sincerely pleased. “I mean, I figured, because I know, roughly, what happens on Brahma, but—”

“I was one of the so-called ‘radicals’. Twenty years ago, with my mentor,” Nureyev confessed, the words rushed and hitting Juno hard in the chest. “We were hardly radicals, honestly. We were thieves, stealing the core to the Guardian Angel System.”

“But… Rita told me the same core that powered the weapon—”

“Also powered the levitation system for the city, yes. My mentor misled me about the job, and when I found out the city would be destroyed, I tried to reason with him. Or stop him. I was…” Nureyev trailed off, looking haunted before he snapped himself out of it. “It doesn’t matter. When he refused to stop, I— I killed him.”

“Nureyev…” Juno started, but he had nothing he could say to that.

Looking at the thief now, Juno realized how young Nureyev would have been when that all happened. It made Juno’s heart ache for Nureyev, and then he remembered what Nureyev had said over dinner. His mentor had saved him from the streets, and later he felt he had to kill the man to save a whole city.

“I don’t regret it. I couldn’t see the justification in destroying an entire city, and I still can’t,” Nureyev said after a few moments, his tone clipped and rehearsed. It sounded defensive, like something the thief repeated to himself daily. It was the first thing Nureyev had said that felt like a lie the whole evening, but Juno knew it wasn’t a lie for him. “He was wrong, and I couldn’t let him leave with the core.”

Juno wanted to leave it there, but he never could stop asking questions. “Then why does it look like you regret it?”

Nureyev’s features closed up, like shutters being pulled. “Is that relevant right now?” he asked curtly.

Juno watched him, a sadness for Nureyev so deep in his heart he felt close to crying, and his anger from earlier was all but forgotten. Eventually, he shook his head with a heavy sigh.

“No, I guess it’s not, you’re right,” he said before he added a bit awkwardly, “Thanks for… telling me, I guess. You didn’t have to.”

Nureyev shook himself a bit, straightening his posture, and raised an eyebrow. “My name is attached to that job, so the moment you would’ve had Rita look me up, you would have known. She likely already knows my name without realizing it.”

Juno was quiet for several long moments, rolling Nureyev’s words around in his head. That was all true, and he was sure Rita would have pulled up any information on him that she wanted. Hell, there was probably information out there Nureyev thought was completely hidden, but Rita could find.

“I wanted to hear what stories you have in your own words…”

He bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he remembered Nureyev’s words from dinner.

“I wasn’t going to ‘look you up’,” he finally said.

Nureyev looked visibly shocked, and then sceptical. “And why not?”

Juno shrugged with a sad chuckle. “Why didn’t you look me up?” he countered.

It was almost funny enough for Juno to laugh when realization dawned on Nureyev, his eyes widening with a soft “oh” as he looked down at his hands in his lap.

The conversation had gotten too emotional, too vulnerable for Juno to handle at the moment, so he changed the subject. “So what’s the plan? What are we doing?”

Nureyev met his gaze again, deeply concerned. “We?” he asked.

“Yeah, ‘we’. You and I both want those weapons destroyed,” Juno replied firmly. “I want to stop Pilot and Ramses, and you brought me back into this mess whether you meant to or not. I’m coming with you, and you’re not going to stop me.”

Nureyev made a small noise and shook his head. “But Juno, your eye—”

“—Isn’t coming back any time soon! And hey, I figure I owe it some payback anyway,” Juno interrupted with a shrug, his tone flippant and deliberately infuriating.

Nureyev was flustered, visibly stressed at the thought of Juno joining him. Juno would have found it cute, even flattering, if he wasn’t still coming down from his hurt and anger.

“Juno, I can’t— it’s dangerous—” Nureyev started again and Juno laughed a bit.

“I’m a private eye, Nureyev. ‘Danger’ is in the job description,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Give me a real reason.”

Nureyev paused for a long time before leaning forward to gently, tentatively touch the back of Juno’s hand. Without hesitation, Juno turns his hand and allows Nureyev to hold it.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt by them again,” Nureyev confessed very quietly, barely loud enough for Juno to hear.

Juno felt his heart flip several times, his breath leaving him in a short whoosh, and he had to fight to be annoyed at the coddling. “I can handle myself, Nureyev,” he snapped with a pout, though it held no heat.

“Oh, I know, my dear detective. I would never doubt your resilience,” Nureyev said with a small laugh, reaching up with his other hand to cup Juno’s cheek. His expression turned so soft and earnest, Juno felt overwhelmed with his want for that gentle concern. “I only wish you knew you didn’t always have to. You could just let me do this and be done with it entirely.”

For a moment, Juno very nearly gave in to that soft request, to let Nureyev take care of him, of their combined mess, but that was just not possible for him.

“You don’t seem to get it,” Juno said with a shake of his head. “This is my problem, my screw-up, my responsibility. Plus, you got me involved again.”

Nureyev stroked the back of Juno’s hand and cheek with his thumbs thoughtfully, and the sensation of the smooth leather of his gloves sent shivers up Juno’s spine. “Fair enough,” he said eventually, nodding. “Just know that I’m not used to working with someone else.”

The two of them spent the better part of an hour going over Nureyev’s existing plans for the heist, working Juno into them and reworking the parts that wouldn’t work with two people. The plan had been brilliant to start with, and Juno almost felt bad about coming in with a sledgehammer. However, when all was said and done, Juno was legitimately confident in the new plan.

That— being confident in the plan— was enough to plant a seedling of doubt in his gut. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Benten calling him ‘Lady Raincloud’ and dismissed his nerves. He and Nureyev were both professionals in their own ways, and they could handle an in-and-out job.

Juno was standing at the desk next to where Nureyev sat, bent at the waist and propped on one hand, idly chewing on his thumbnail while he stared at the laptop screen. “I can have Rita look into finding a different way in, but the sewer is really our best bet. And maybe a better way to deal with the security cameras,” he murmured, mostly to himself but Nureyev hummed his agreement. “I’m not liking how tight that window is.”

If Nureyev was uncomfortable involving Rita, he didn’t say anything.

“So,” Juno said slowly, looking at Nureyev. “Two nights from now?”

“That should give us enough time to collect what intel we need,” Nureyev confirmed, before looking up at him and slyly adding with a smirk, “It also gives me at least twenty-four more hours to convince you to stay out of it.”

Juno smirked right back. “Don’t count on it.”

A moment of absolute silence stretched between them as they looked at each other, and slowly Nureyev’s smirk softened to something fond. Juno jumped a bit as gloved fingers slid gently against the outside of his bare thigh before he shivered. With a shaky sigh, Juno leaned into the contact.

“Juno, I—” Nureyev started hesitantly before taking a deep breath. “I want you to know that I care very deeply for you, and that I never thought of you as a mark, that— I meant everything I’ve said and more.”

“I know,” Juno said in a quiet voice, and he was surprised by himself. The sincerity in Nureyev’s eyes was overwhelming, and enough to break through his usual cloud of doubt for the moment.

“The true depths of my— my feelings are unknown even to me,” Nureyev continued earnestly, apparently on a roll. “They terrify me, Juno. Whenever I try to understand them, and the thought of leaving after all this…”

Juno stood back up to his full height and turned toward Nureyev, holding his face in his hands. When Nureyev allowed his eyes to flutter shut, Juno released a shuddering breath. “You don’t have to go,” Juno whispered, surprising himself yet again with his soft begging.

What right did he have asking that of Nureyev?

Nureyev’s face twisted sadly, and his lashes looked a bit wet. “Juno, please—”

“You can stay,” Juno pushed, talking over Nureyev desperately. “Rita can clear any record you have, set you up with everything you need, I have connections—”

“Juno, stop, please,” Nureyev pleaded, his voice so soft Juno’s heart ached. When Nureyev opened his eyes again to look up at him, his eyes glassy. “You know I can’t stay, even if I wanted to give everything up. I do not want to retire, and I cannot stay on Mars, my love.”

Juno closed his eyes and nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I know,” he replied.

Nureyev took a deep breath and Juno could feel him shaking nervously. “Would you come with me?” he asked, in a voice so fragile Juno held completely still lest he break something. The question hit him like a solid punch to his gut, and for a few wild seconds the ‘yes’ was on the tip of his tongue.

But then he thought of Benten, and Rita, and where would they fit in his brave new future with Nureyev? A man he knew for all of two weeks? It was absurd.

“I’m sorry,” Juno whispers, his voice barely audible, even to himself. “Nureyev, I—”

“Hush, dear detective,” Nureyev said soothingly, lifting a hand to gently hold one of Juno’s wrists, the other still stroking his thigh. The contact is chaste, but it was intimate beyond anything Juno had ever experienced, even with Diamond. Now that he was looking down at Nureyev, seeing him with his hair loose, heart open, and Juno’s lipstick still smeared in places, Juno felt heat returning to his gut.

“I… I would like to spend whatever time we have left together, however you wish,” Nureyev said, his eyes soft and wet with emotion. “I will understand, however, if you wouldn’t want that.”

Juno sucked in a slow breath, shaky as it was with his conflicting thoughts. He was still upset, still angry, and normally he would have made someone who made him that angry work to get his favour back. But Nureyev didn’t have that sort of time— they didn’t have that sort of time. Here in this hotel room was possibly the last time they would be together like this, and there was the entire possibility that one or both of them would be killed in two days.

So Juno stepped closer to Nureyev, bracketing one of his knees with his legs so he could stand flush to Nureyev’s body. Nureyev tipped his head back obligingly, with his eyes half-lidded and lips parted. Without hesitation, Juno dipped his head and kissed Nureyev, soft and sweet, swallowing the quiet sound of surprise the thief made.

Nureyev immediately wrapped an arm around his waist, his strength surprising given how thin his arm felt, and his hand twisted in the fabric of Juno’s dress. The hand on his thigh squeezed with sudden bruising strength as Nureyev deepened the kiss, Juno meeting him halfway with his tongue.

Juno had tangled his hands in Nureyev’s hair once again, twisting in the length of it and holding him in place, whining petulantly when Nureyev began to pull back.

“Juno, wait—” Nureyev began, their mouths still together and panting. Even as he was trying to talk, Nureyev was pressing small kisses on and around Juno’s lips.

“Nureyev, c’mon,” he managed to mumble through their needy kisses.

Nureyev slid his hand further up Juno’s thigh, slipping under the straps of the flower harness he wore and nearly grabbing his ass. The straps pulled tight against the soft flesh of Juno’s thigh, pulling a desperate gasp from him. At that, Nureyev pulled away from the kiss completely, meeting Juno’s eye. He was panting already, and Juno quite liked the image he made, dishevelled as he was with hair a mess and dark red lipstick smeared over his lips.

“Juno, I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you,” Nureyev said, and Juno could tell he meant it. That doesn’t mean he didn’t try to laugh it off.

“I like a little pain, don’t worry about that, Nureyev,” he said with a smirk. “My safe word is—”

“Juno, I’m being serious!” Nureyev snapped lightly, though interestingly enough there was some legitimate interest in his expression.

Juno sighed and stooped to kiss Nureyev again, sweet and chaste, and he hoped it was full of everything he was feeling. Words were hard at the best of times, but especially when things were intense. Juno had always been better with his actions, or at least he liked to think he was. And right then he just wanted so much, so deeply, he could hardly breathe with it.

“Nureyev, I want this, I wouldn’t start it if I didn’t. And yeah, I’m still pissed at you, and yeah it’s going to hurt like hell when you leave,” Juno finally said, leaning his forehead against Nureyev’s. “But that’s at least two days away, and I just want to… have this while I can. If you don’t want to after all, I get it. I’ll go home and see you tomorrow at the cafe.”

“Are you sure?” Nureyev asked.

“Nureyev, I’m sure,” Jun replied impatiently.

Nureyev’s lips spread into a shit-eating grin. “Absolutely positive?”

“Knock it off, Nureyev,” Juno growled, moaning softly into a kiss that suddenly captured his lips.

Nureyev smiled warmly up at him when he pulled back. “Just need to hear you say it,” he sighed, and Juno rolled his eyes.

“Glad we cleared that up, then, now can we—”

Juno let out a squeak of surprise when Nureyev stood up, the arm around his back and gloved hand on his thigh steadying him. His mouth was seized in a hungry kiss, the pressure rough and full of teeth, as he was half-walked, half-carried the handful of steps back into the bedroom.

Nureyev let him go once they reached the edge of the bed to work on Juno’s belt. He hadn’t done it up quite right when he put it back on earlier, so Nureyev did have to pull away from the kiss with a laugh to undo it properly. Juno grinned up at him like a dope at the laugh, and accepted the kiss that was dropped to his mouth once the belt fell away and the drape of the gown fell open again.

Juno tried to think about it as a fling, that he wasn’t impossibly far gone on Nureyev already, that his laugh didn’t fill him with so much light he feared he might burst from it.

Nureyev reached up to gently touch Juno’s eyepatch in silent question, and panic flooded his veins with ice. He wasn’t ready for Nureyev to see his eye just yet, not ready for him to look at him with disgust or pity or that terrible combination of both.

When Juno jerkily shook his head, Nureyev smiled gently and backed off without question.

“Now how does the rest of this come off, love?” he asked, tugging at Juno’s dress a bit.

Juno’s relief was so overwhelming, he almost had to sit down. Instead, he huffed out a soft laugh and dragged Nureyev back down into a needy kiss, happily swallowing his soft sound of surprise.

- - - - -

Juno dozed a bit after his athletic evening with Nureyev. He had closed his eyes while Nureyev got up to get a washcloth, and truthfully hadn’t tried too hard to stay awake.

However, he must have slept deeper and longer than he had meant to. When Juno opened his eyes again, he found that he was cleaned up and tucked in under the duvet. Juno sighed contentedly as he registered the warm, naked body he was cuddled up against, a strong lean arm wrapped loosely around his shoulder. Nureyev’s long, slender fingers traced little symbols into the skin on the cap of Juno’s shoulder, the sensation ticklish but pleasant. Juno shifted so his legs were tangled with Nureyev’s, sighing when the arm around him held him tighter.

With a hum, Juno wrapped an arm around Nureyev’s waist and pressed a lazy kiss to his chest where his head rested. He didn’t move away immediately, instead inhaling a deep breath through his nose. Juno’s head swam with the scent of Nureyev’s cologne, the smell of it somehow stronger with the musk of sweat and sex in the air.

Juno couldn’t help the little groan he made as he adjusted himself on top of Nureyev. When Juno nuzzled his nose against the skin of his throat, Nureyev made a small, happy sound and Juno grinned tiredly.

He never wanted to leave that bed, a realization that sunk heavily in his gut.

“That was amazing,” Nureyev said around a huge yawn, sounding perfectly blissed-out and sated.

Juno snorted, even as tears gathered in his eyes again. ‘Amazing’ was an understatement, which was a problem for Juno. Part of him had hoped sex with Nureyev would have been boring, or even bad, so it would have been easier for when Nureyev had to leave him. But of course, it hadn’t been; it was amazing, like nothing else Juno had ever had with another person.

Things could never be easy for Juno Steel.

“Yeah,” Juno sighed, closing his eyes. “It was.”

They laid together in comfortable silence, and Juno began dozing again as Nureyev scratched his back lightly. His eyepatch was getting uncomfortable, and he began debating taking it off. Maybe it would be okay. Nureyev was different, Juno was sure of it. Panic kicked up his heart rate, and the thought of testing that after something so perfect was nauseating.

“Juno? Are you awake?” Nureyev asked hesitantly, snapping Juno out of his spiralling thoughts. With a relieved sigh, Juno tilted his head up to look at Nureyev’s face.

“What’s up?” Juno asked, his voice laced with exhaustion. Before he could think about it or stop himself, he kissed Nureyev’s shoulder gently before propping himself on an elbow to better meet his gaze.

Nureyev was smiling at him, his eyes half-lidded and bright even in the low lighting. He looked so warm and perfect with his long hair loose around his face and shoulders. Lipstick still stained his mouth, jaw, and throat, tempting Juno to retrace his steps.

When Nureyev lifted his hand to cup his cheek, Juno turned his head to kiss his palm, closing his eyes and breathing that intoxicating scent in again.

“Oh, love,” Nureyev whispered, sliding his hand back to pull Juno into a slow, languid kiss. Juno sighed into it and pouted a bit when the thief ended it. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“You chose me, so that’s what you get,” Juno said cheekily, but was very aware that Nureyev had something serious on his mind.

“You asked me earlier why I—” Nureyev began hesitantly, his voice strained until he cleared his throat. “You asked earlier why I appeared to regret killing my… mentor, Mag.”

“Yeah, but you don’t actually have to answer that,” Juno replied. Curiosity burned in his gut, but the warm flush had left Nureyev’s face, and Juno could feel how tense he was. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“I want to answer it. Or I at least want you to know,” Nureyev insisted, pushing himself up to recline against the pillows more upright. “After all of that, you should know.”

“I mean, if it’s that important to you, go ahead,” Juno replied, shifting to straddle Nureyev’s lap and meet his gaze easily. Nureyev smiled gently at him before leaning in for a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, he took a deep, fortifying breath.

“He was going to kill a city of innocent people, so I knew I had to stop him. But when my knife sank into his back…” Nureyev trailed off, closing his eyes as he worked through something in his head, Without thinking, Juno reached up to tuck some of Nureyev’s hair behind his ear.

“I wasn’t sure if I did it to stop him, and that there truly was no other way to do so,” Nureyev continued after a few quiet moments, “Or if I only did it because he lied.”

Juno took a deep breath and nodded, unsure of what to do with a confession like that. “About the Guardian Angel System?” he asked to clarify his meaning.

Nureyev shook his head with a soft, bitter laugh. “It would have been easier if that was his biggest lie,” Nureyev replied. “But he lied about my father.”

Juno waited for Nureyev, watching his face as he thought about his next words. It hit him suddenly that Nureyev likely hadn’t said any of this out loud to anyone before, that Juno was the first to hear this particular dark corner of Nureyev’s history.

Something small, yet terrifying fluttered to life in the back of Juno’s mind, which he quickly squashed.

“He saved me from the streets, raised me, taught me everything I know now, all while he fed me this elaborate tale about a father who was a martyr for the cause,” Nureyev continued, and he couldn’t meet Juno’s gaze anymore. “I built my entire identity around my name, that idea, that story. I wanted so badly to live up to my father’s legacy, to make everyone proud of me the way he did.”

“But it was a lie,” Juno finished for him, his breath leaving him in a whoosh at the thought of being lied to like that. Sure, Diamond’s deception had hurt, but that was so small and petty compared to what Nureyev was telling him.

“I was so confused and lost after I killed him, and I just stopped thinking about it. Filed it away and moved on,” Nureyev said with a sigh, rolling his eyes at himself. “I was just afraid of what it would make me if I only killed him for lying.”

Juno frowned as Nureyev finished, opening his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He wasn’t sure how much Nureyev would appreciate his lame insights, so instead he stretched upward to place a soft kiss to the corner of Nureyev’s mouth. Nureyev immediately tilted his head to accept the kiss with his lips, even as his brow furrowed in confusion and shock.

Juno pulled away and settled back against Nureyev, dropping his head onto his chest to doze off again.

“That makes sense,” he said softly, listening to the frantic heartbeat under his ear.

Nureyev was quiet for a while before he asked, “That’s all? Just ‘that makes sense’?”

Juno shrugged, suddenly concerned he had read the entire conversation wrong. “I mean, thanks… for telling me? You didn’t have to?” Juno said awkwardly, cringing at himself.

“Juno, please look at me,” Nureyev requested, and that was the last thing on the planet Juno wanted to do.

Nonetheless, Juno sat up again and met his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek. Nureyev’s eyes were wet with unshed tears, and confusion was written across his face.

“I just told you I murdered someone I considered a parent, and you… don’t care?” he asked, his voice weak with his uncertainty.

“I care, Nureyev, but I just…” As always, Juno struggled for the right words at the worst time, letting out a frustrated huff. “I care about you. And, I don’t know, the problem or moral dilemma you’re having with it makes sense. I guess I would be worried if you weren’t torn up about it. But you did it twenty years ago and saved an entire city. If you want me to hold it against you now, you’re out of luck.”

Nureyev looked baffled before he reached up to pull Juno down into a deep, but chaste kiss. When Juno moaned softly and opened up for him, the thief sighed.

When Juno pulled back, Nureyev was smiling so softly up at him, it broke his heart.

“Stay the night?” Nureyev asked quietly.

Juno wanted nothing more than to say yes, to say that he would stay forever if Nureyev would simply ask. He thought about everything Nureyev had told him, how open he had been, and suddenly Juno wanted to tell Nureyev about Diamond. He wanted to lay in that bed and whisper confessions, and kiss, and make love into the early hours of the morning.

He wanted it all with Peter Nureyev.

As if on cue, Juno’s comms began to beep and he scrambled to the end of the bed. He found it on the ground and quickly put it in his ear.

“Juno Steel,” he answered curtly, glancing back at Nureyev.

“Juno, where the hell are you?” Benten scolded shrilly, and Juno flinched. “It’s after midnight, and you said you would call!”

Juno cringed and stuck his tongue out at Nureyev’s smug smirk. “Yeah, sorry Ben, we just got busy talking,” he said, and it wasn’t a complete lie. “I’m just waiting for the cab and I’ll be home soon. Go to bed.”

Benten was quiet for several long moments before he said, “Talking, huh?”

“Yes, Benzaiten, talking,” Juno said through gritted teeth, his face hot with embarrassment. “Go to bed.”

Benten sighed dramatically. “Fine. You owe me a full play-by-play in the morning, though,” he said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Juno said with a snort. “See you in the morning.”

The commes beeped as Benten hung up and Juno looked back at Nureyev properly. He was struck all over again by the image Nureyev made surrounded by pillows, long hair messy and knotted, lipstick stains all over and completely naked. Had he been younger, Juno knew he would be hard again and ready for round two.

Nureyev smiled at him and leaned over to the bedside table for his own comms. “You try to get cleaned up a bit, and I’ll call you a cab,” Nureyev offered and was already dialling a number in.

Juno crawled back up the bed to kiss Nureyev deeply before slipping away into the bathroom.

He stared at his face in the mirror, at the way his lipstick was smeared from their kisses, and his mascara and eyeliner had run with his tears. Closing the bathroom door and locking it, Juno took the eyepatch off and grabbed the make-up wipes provided by the hotel.

They were decent quality, and did a decent enough job in cleaning up his racoon eyes, but proved useless when he tried to deal with the mess of lipstick that was smeared up his cheek. It appeared that Benten exclusively purchased make-up for demons, he thought bitterly before wetting a washcloth and giving himself another quick wash.

Stepping back into the bedroom, Juno found it to be empty. He could hear Nureyev on his laptop out in the living room, humming quietly, so Juno picked his dress and shoes up off the floor and went to join him.

Nureyev was sitting cross-legged on the couch with his laptop. The image of him sitting there was striking, with Nureyev completely naked except for his glasses, with lipstick stains all over his pale skin and his hair still a tangled mess around his face. Something about seeing Nureyev like that— sleepy and dishevelled, head tilted upward while he squinted through his glasses thoughtfully— had Juno wishing for more time or a different life, whatever it took to keep it.

It was so soft and intimate, Juno’s heart ached and he wanted nothing more than to drag Nureyev back to bed and kiss him senseless.

Instead, Juno pulled his dress back on, doing the belt up as he stopped to stand behind the couch. Bending at the waist, Juno wrapped his arms around Nureyev’s shoulders and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of Nureyev’s throat before looking at the computer screen.

It was a window full of different surveillance feeds for the hotel, and Juno raised an eyebrow. “What’re you up to now?”

Nureyev turned his head to capture Juno’s lips in a searching kiss, groaning when Juno opened for him. When he finally pulled away, he said, “I’m going to walk you out.”

“You might need to put on more clothes, Nureyev,” Juno said with a suggestive lilt, running a hand down Nureyev’s naked torso teasingly. He delighted in Nureyev’s shiver, pressing another kiss to his throat, aiming higher so his lips teased just below Nureyev’s jaw.

“No, my dear detective, I’ll be walking you out my way,” Nureyev replied, shuddering again.

“And that means…?” Juno prompted, keeping his mouth pressed to the thief’s heated skin.

“You will be on your comms, and I will coordinate looping camera footage while I direct you through your escape,” Nureyev elaborated, and the excited tone to his voice brought a smile to Juno’s face. “The cab I’ve called will meet you where the stairway lets out on the street.”

Juno stood up to finish adjusting his dress, shifting the draping fabric to cover his front more securely. He made a mental note to give Nureyev a proper lecture about using knives on his underthings later.

“Sounds kinda fun. I’m game,” Juno eventually said, sitting down to put his boots back on.

Nureyev smiled and winked playfully at him. “That’s only partially why I want to do this.”

“Your other reasons?” Juno asked.

“I want to see how well we can work together, first of all,” Nureyev replied and then gave Juno a suggestive smile, showing off his teeth. “I also enjoy bossing you around a bit.”

Juno scoffed, even as heat flooded through him. Standing up, he crossed the distance to Nureyev and bent to give Nureyev a soft kiss. The thief sighed and lifted his hands to hold the back of Juno’s head gently, opening up for Juno’s tongue.

“Don’t get used to it,” Juno teased as he pulled away and stood back up. Putting his comms in his ear, he walked over to the door. “Let’s do this then.”

“Alright, love,” Nureyev began with a grin. “Down the hall to the left there is a door to the stairwell on the right. Once you’re on the landing, call me.”

Juno saluted, resolutely ignoring the curl of heat in his gut at the commanding tone. “Got it,” he said, hoping it sounded steadier than he felt.

Nureyev smirked knowingly. “Go no further than the landing though, Juno,” he added, the firmness in his tone hardening. “Can you manage that for me?”

Juno felt his face grow hot and bit his cheek, nodding quickly. Not trusting himself to speak, he muttered a quick mm-hmm and turned fully toward the door.

“Juno,” Nureyev chastised lightly, and Juno dropped his forehead against the door.

“Yes, Nureyev, I can manage it,” he said, his voice a bit strained.

“Good girl,” Nureyev said, and Juno could hear the smirk in his voice at his shudder. “Let’s begin then.”

Juno quickly stepped out into the halway, leaning back against the door to take a deep breath. His pulse was jumping, with excitement about what they had done and what they were about to do, anxiety and anticipation for the heist to come. A grin overtook him, and Juno had to work not to laugh a bit out loud.

With that, he hurried down the hall, and slipped into the stairwell, already halfway through dialling Nureyev’s comms by the time he opened the door.

“Excellent work thus far, darling,” Nureyev purred as he answered.

“Knock it off,” Juno grumbled, smiling. “We have work to do.”

“Knock what off, dear detective?” he asked, sounding excessively innocent.

“You know what I mean,” Juno replied.

Nureyev sighed, and Juno could hear his eye-roll. “Fine, we can do this the boring way for the sensitive detective,” he complained and Juno snorted.

It went smoothly from there, Juno stopping and going all the way down the stairwell according to Nureyev’s directions. Soon enough, Juno found himself pushing through a door and out onto the street. Parked at the curb, there was a cab waiting, the driver barely blinking at Juno’s sudden appearance before he opened the back door.

“Mr Dahlia Rose?” the cabby confirmed as Juno stepped closer.

“That’s me,” he said with a laugh, and then into his commes, “Thank’s Duke, I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Nureyev chuckled warmly, and Juno felt something pull in his chest. “Of course, my love,” he said softly, making Juno’s heart stutter. “I wouldn’t miss breakfast for the world.”

The comms beeped as Juno disconnected, and he gave the cabby his address as he slid into the backseat.

The drive was quiet, disturbed only by the sound of the cabby’s radio, leaving Juno to his thoughts. Juno looked out the window, watching Hyperion City roll by with a wistful smile.

He’d had an amazing evening, even with the emotional argument with Nureyev in the middle of it. Juno felt his chest squeeze as he thought about it, biting his lip as he leaned against the window. He thought about Nureyev saying “my love” all evening, about the feeling of Nureyev’s body under his as he dozed, about the quiet confession regarding the death of the man who made him.

“Stay the night?”

The memory of that quiet, vulnerable question, the hope that filled Nureyev’s tone, struck Juno in the chest. With sudden, intense clarity, he knew he would never be able to write the night off as a casual fling. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given that Juno knew going into it that he was completely disinterested in sex unless his heart was in it. Juno didn’t do ‘flings.’

Juno knew he was in love with the thief, no matter how stupid that was, and for the brief seconds before the fear and heartach could catch up, he felt overwhelmed with joy.

“I do not want to retire, and I cannot retire to Mars, my love.”

Remembering that felt like a solid punch to the gut. Unshed tears stung his eyes and Juno hated himself for them. He knew the entire time that Nureyev would be leaving. He knew he wouldn’t get to keep him.

The cab stopped outside his apartment, and the cabby shook his head when Juno went to transfer the creds.

“No need. Mr Rose has already paid the fare and tip,” the cabby said, smiling at Juno’s indignant expression.

“Of course he did,” Juno grumbled but still transferred the creds. “Take it.”

“Uh, Mr Rose insisted—”

“Take the money, it’s a tip,” Juno said sternly, and slid out as the cabby thanked him profusely.

Approaching the front door of his and Benten’s apartment, he was relieved to see that there were no lights on inside. Juno didn’t want to deal with Benten while he was so close to crying and his lipstick was smeared across his cheek.

Once he was inside, he worked on getting his boots off, the first one having him curse under his breath as he struggled to untie it. Juno was exhausted and sore, and he just wanted to go to bed.

The tears welled up too quickly for Juno to blink them away, and he pulled off his eyepatch before he really started crying.

The light from the kitchen clicked on, startling a small shriek out of Juno.

“Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?” Benten shouted, his tone teasing, but Juno was not in the mood for it.

“Har har, Ben. That’s super hilarious and not old at all,” Juno grumbled, trying to keep his tone light as he struggled with his boots, pointedly keeping his back turned toward his brother.

Of course, Benten could easily hear the barely restrained distress in Juno’s voice and he could hear Benten crossing the living room. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Juno was frantic in his fight with his boots, needing to get them off so he could hide in the bathroom and get cleaned up. He couldn’t let Benten see him like that, especially not after what they had talked about before his night out.

By the time Juno had gotten free of this first boot, Benten was close enough to catch a glimpse of his messed up make-up and the hickeys on his shoulder and neck. Worst of all, he could see Juno’s unshed tears and Benten was instantly angry.

“Juno, what the fuck—”

“I know, Benten, I fucked up,” Juno said quickly, and he finally got the second boot off and hurried off to the bathroom. He locked himself inside, and when Benten began knocking, Juno shouted, “Go away, Benten! I honestly don’t need your lecture right now!”

“Lecture?” Benten asked, sounding legitimately confused and pausing long enough for Juno to answer.

However, Juno chose to try to ignore his brother, taking out a washcloth and wetting it to try and wash the make-up off. At Juno’s silence, Benten resumed his assault on the door.

“Did he hurt you?” Benten demanded, and Juno was completely thrown off by the question.

“What? No, Benten, I’m fine!” he replied, flinching when his voice cracked a bit. It didn’t sound convincing at all.

“Juno, seriously get out here! I will hunt him down right now and kill him if—”

Juno flung the bathroom door back open and dodged Benten’s fist, which was mid-knock. His brother was wild-eyed, looking so worried, and suddenly he understood his brother’s concern.

“It’s fine, Ben, seriously,” Juno insisted, grabbing Benten’s shoulders. “He didn’t— it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Juno, you’re crying—”

“I know! I know. Seriously, he was great, he was nice, he was just…” Juno trailed off, unsure of what to say to make Benten leave him alone about it. Juno knew what he looked like, what they discussed before his Not Date with Nureyev, and what it all meant in the long run. “It was fine.”

Benten did not look convinced. “You’re upset. It can’t be fine—”

“Yes, I”m upset!” Juno burst out with an explosive sigh, shaking his head. There was no point denying it, and he wasn’t getting out of the discussion before bed. “If you’re going to insist on doing this tonight, then help me with my make-up. I’m not talking about it while I look like this, and this lipstick is terrible.”

Benten crossed his arms with a frown before rolling his eyes. “Fine, go get out of that dress and meet me in the living room,” he said, turning away to head to the kitchen.

Juno got changed quickly, shivering at the soreness already settling in his hips, thighs, and ass. He knew he was going to be feeling it in the morning, but he didn’t regret a moment of that evening, even with how broken his heart was.

When Juno left his room, he found Benten set up with a tub of coconut oil, a few washcloths, and a bowl of water. There were also two separate pints of ice cream set off to the side on the coffee table and a stream playing quietly on the monitor.

“Ben,” Juno grumbled at the special treatment, sitting down heavily.

“Nuh-uh, Juno. You’re not going to bed like this,” Benten said sternly, warming up the coconut oil in his hands and smearing it over Juno’s face, particularly on his lips and eyes. “You know you can’t go to bed upset. I heard you in the bathroom the other day or whenever that was, by the way.”

“Sorry,” Juno mumbled, embarrassed that Benten had not only heard him, but was bringing it up at all.

“Why the hell are you apologizing to me?” Benten asked, pulling his hands away from Juno’s face to wipe them clean on one of the washcloths. “I said all of that shit to you, let you go to bed upset, and didn’t stick around to make sure you were okay the next morning. That was super shitty of me.”

“Ben—”

“No, shut up. Just this once, let someone else take the blame,” Benten interrupted, picking up another cloth and wetting it a bit. As he began wiping the oil off of Juno’s face, he sighed. “So. What happened?”

Juno actually let out a laugh at that and gestured vaguely at himself. “Well, he took me out to dinner, then we went back to his hotel room, and then I’m pretty sure you can guess what happened after that,” Juno said, trying to be as vague as possible about it.

Benten pulled back and dropped the hand holding the washcloth into his lap. “What does that mean, Juno?” he asked, but it was obvious he knew exactly what Juno had meant.

“We went back to his hotel to talk,” Juno said, blushing hotly when Benten raised his eyebrow at him. “And then we did, uh, a bit more than talking. And then a lot more than talking.”

“We had one rule! Which you agreed to!” Benten scolded, throwing the washcloth onto the coffee table.

“I know,” Juno said with a weak nod.

“It was ‘absolutely do not sleep with the criminal!’ And I even thought it would be easy for you to manage!” Benten continued, grabbing one of the pints of ice cream open and digging into it.

“Yeah, Ben, I remember,” Juno said miserably, grabbing his own ice cream and starting in on it a bit slower.

“And you still slept with him?”

“Yeup,” Juno replied sadly.

Benten made a disgusted noise, almost a gag, and said, “The man put an entire sandwich in his pocket, Juno.”

Juno frowned at him. “He didn’t have the pockets on while we fucked, Ben.”

Benten made another disgusted noise and fell quiet, silently fuming into his ice cream. Then he gasped. “What about the Chastity Thong? Between it and the harness, you were supposed to stop and think!” he insisted.

Juno rolled his eyes. “First of all, the harness just got him really excited, and second of all, I did stop to think,” Juno said, smiling smugly at Benten’s disgusted face. “But then Rex… cut the thong… off of me.”

Benten’s eyes widened. “Like, with scissors?”

Juno smirked at his brother. “With a knife.”

There were several moments of Benten just spluttering. “Wait, let me get this straight,” he finally said, his voice full of indignant shock. “Not only did you fuck a criminal, but you let his knife near your lady bits?”

“The knife didn’t get anywhere near my lady bits, Ben,” Juno replied, and he couldn’t quite keep the wistful note out of his voice.

“And you sound disappointed about that!” Benten cried, horrified by this revelation, and Juno couldn’t pass up the opportunity to mess with his brother.

“So what if I am?” Juno asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Eugh, gross, I’m suing for damages,” Benten whined, glaring while Juno laughed.

After a while, Benten sighed and began mostly picking at his ice cream. “Joking aside, you don’t do casual,” he said softly, and Juno laughed humourlessly. “Like, I know how you’re very much about… needing those intense romantic feelings to get things going like that.”

Juno nodded, biting the inside of his cheek as tears welled back up. “Yeup.”

“And… you slept with him,” Benten continued slowly.

“Yeup,” he confirmed, laughing a bit.

“So… is he, like, staying then?” Benten asked.

“Nope,” Juno huffed, lifting a hand to wipe away a tear that was about to fall.

“Juno…” Benten started, but let himself trail off.

“It was so impulsive,” Juno elaborated, sadly shovelling some ice cream into his mouth. He let the ice cream melt before he said, “I just… I wanted to have whatever I could get, even if I couldn’t keep it, you know?”

Benten was quiet for a long time before pulling Juno into a tight hug, which Juno was more than happy to accept. With some adjusting, Benten got the two of them snuggled under a pile of blankets on the couch, their legs tangled and shoulders touching, leaning their heads together as they worked on their ice cream.

“I really know how to pick’em, huh?” Juno asked eventually.

Benten hummed a bit. “I mean, I hate him, but he seems to really care about you, and he is hot, so I mean, other than the whole criminal and leaving thing, you didn’t do too bad.”

Juno snorted. “Seriously? You hate him?”

“‘Course I do, Juno. He wants to mess around with my brother! I mean, it’s been a struggle to hate him since his obvious disgust at seeing me at that gala, but you know…” Benten trailed off before he asked, “So, you had a good time?”

Juno smiled, his face feeling hot again. “Yeah, dinner was great,” he said a bit wistfully. “Rex took me to that super fancy place, Rouge-something.”

Benten tensed. “Isn’t that where…?”

“Diamond proposed? Yeah,” Juno said with a sigh, smiling down at his ice cream. “But it was fine. It was… it was really nice.”

Juno finished his ice cream, and put the container down on the coffee table. He snuggled into the blankets and relaxed against Benten’s side even more. After a few minutes of quiet between them, he asked, “Why is it always like this for me?”

“Hm?” Benten hummed curiously around a mouthful of his ice cream and Juno shrugged.

“The more I want something, the more the universe does to fuck it up for me,” he answered, and it sounded pathetic to his own ears, and humiliation flooded him when Benten sighed.

“Do you want me to be honest with you, or just let you feel sorry for yourself?” he asked, and Juno let out a bark of laughter.

“Would my answer actually change what you were planning to do?” Juno asked.

“Nope!” Benten said cheerfully and took a deep breath. “Juno, you ignore red flags like it’s your job. You think the flags are decoration, a feature and not a bug. You’re famous for it!”

Juno scoffed before sitting up to face Benten. “And you don’t?”

“Shut up, this isn’t about me, it’s about you,” Benten snapped, glaring. “Listen, you pegged him—”

“He actually pegged me—”

“Ew, shut up, I’m being serious and you’re being gross,” Benten said with a cringe. “You figured him out the instant you saw him. You knew he was bad news, and you knew he would leave since day one.”

Juno glared a bit but he couldn’t actually argue it.

Benten’s face and tone softened as he said, “So, it’s a lot less of the universe ‘ruining’ things and more just… the universe operating as normal.”

“Hmph,” was all Juno said before snuggling deeper into the blankets against Benten’s side.

“I just… really like Rex, Ben,” he confessed quietly, and sighed when Benten rested his cheek on the top of his head.

“He told you his name, then?” Benten asked, and Juno furrowed his brow, wondering if he slipped up somehow.

“Yeah, he told me everything, why— how did you know?” Juno asked.

“I remember you saying something about not calling him ‘Rex’ until you knew his actual name or something like that,” Benten said with a chuckle. “It was super dramatic, and I approved even if I called you an idiot about it.”

Juno laughed a bit and rolled his eyes. “Then yes, he told me his name, and no, I won’t tell you,” Juno said quickly, knowing that was going to be his next question.

For a bit, Benten just pouted into his ice cream until he smirked, meeting Juno’s gaze. “So… does he have an ass?”

Juno groaned loudly. “Goddamn it, Ben, seriously?”

Ben shrugged, scooping up the last big spoonful of his ice cream into his mouth and tossing the empty container onto the coffee table. “It’s a yesh’r no quesh’in, Juno,” he mumbled around the ice cream in his mouth.

“Ass isn’t all there is, Ben,” Juno said, and realizing that was enough of an answer on it’s own, he quickly added, “And it’s not like I really saw him from behind much!”

“Ah, so it’s just as I thought,” Benten hummed, nodding sagely. “No ass. Tragic.”

“Not confirming that assumption, but even if he did lack certain… assets,” Juno started with a sly smirk. “He more than makes up for with his amazing cock—”

“Oh! Gross!” Benten gagged pushing Juno away. “Both the terrible pun and the image of him fucking you in my head. Disgusting. I’m suing for damages!”

Juno laughed just before a huge yawn overtook him. “Can we finish this in the morning? I’m really tired.”

“Yeah, we can do that, Juno,” Benten said, his tone fond and Juno couldn’t help but smile..

With that, the two of them dozed off together on the couch, Juno’s head on his brother’s shoulder, and Benten’s arms wrapped loosely around him.

[Previous Chapter][Next Chapter]

#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #juno steel #jupeter #bittersweet #gerry writes #full fic

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nebula-horizon · 4 years

Note

🍺 Celeste and Jericho

Send a symbol for a drabble or thread [ Not Accepting! ]

🍺: Our muses drinking together

I listened to Lover is a day while writing this

((In Which Celeste gets dating advice while listening to Lo-fi))

It was an unusually uncrowded night at the bar. Celeste had come alone without her friends just to see and talk to her favorite bartender. Having dressed up a little nicer than she usually did, but nothing too flashy especially with how she did her makeup. A tan colored sweater crop top and high waisted jean shorts were picked out as she hoped to get his attention, but she'd find out that her efforts were wasted.

Darius calling in sick? Who knew a workaholic like him would concede to a cold and call out for the day. Celeste sat on the bar stool she usually did as Darius's co-worker let her know the situation. Her shoulders slumped at the news -- it was hard to not feel like she wasted her time coming here since he was the only reason she liked going to this bar to begin with. The pastel haired woman sat there with her hands folded on the bar counter as she debated whether it was a good idea to go see him or if that would make her look desperate. She grumbled something in Tagalog before putting her head face down on the bar and her arms over her head.

Thanks to the less rowdy energy in the bar tonight, Celeste's ears picked up on the chuckle coming from the person seated a couple seats away from her. She nervously peeked out from under her arm at the source which was a young man with dark purple hair and one arm leaning against the bar. He had a rather chic look to him as he took a sip of his martini which is why Celeste was unsure if he was the one laughing at her. She sat straight up, looking from him and then around her.

“Were you laughing at me?” she asked with a slight accusatory tone. The purple haired man gave another low chuckle which somewhat confirmed it.

“What’s not to laugh at? There’s something amusing about watching someone this grown up acting like a child.” he admitted. Celeste so badly wanted to pout and get defensive, but that would only prove this stranger’s point.

“I’m not childish,” she muttered looking away. “I just feel like I wasted my time coming here…”. Celeste sighed, it’s not like this guy would understand and besides, she just made herself sound desperate. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him getting up. Oh great, she just embarrassed and weirded out yet another patron -- this was not the reputation she wanted to have at Darius’s workspace.

“Well, do you not go out to bars to drink?”. Celeste looked back up, only to find the same man she thought she weirded out seated on the bar stool right next to her. The pastel haired woman jumped back in her seat a bit causing the man to laugh at her again. Which in turn made her face flush with embarrassment. It’s a good thing that the lights in the club started slowly shifting colors to conceal her reddened cheeks.

“L-look… I don’t… I don’t drink.” she quietly stuttered. “I hate alcohol, it’s a personal preference, but I just don’t like getting even a little tipsy.”. Celeste sighed, listening to the Lo-fi music that started playing over the speakers. “I usually come to this bar specifically because I-I… I kind of have a small crush on one of the bartenders.” she admitted, using crush very loosely.

“A crush, huh? Hahaha… How cute.”. Celeste didn’t know how to respond without sounding like a nervous and flustered mess. She noticed the stranger flagged down the bartender, before leaning towards her just a bit. “What’s your favorite drink here?” he asked, fully intending on ordering her something non-alcoholic.

“M-mango lemonade, why-”. And it just dawned on Celeste. “Wait no, you don’t have to buy me a drink, mister-”. He waved off her protests with a gloved hand as he went to order the drink, leaving Celeste covering her face. Once again, he gave her a smirk, tilting his head to the side acting as though he were confused at her little reactions. It was clear this girl didn’t fit in with the whole bar or club scene; like watching a fish out of water. "What are you even trying to do?" She asked him as though he had some kind of ulterior motives. Still hiding her face behind her hands, she was starting to feel flustered with this guy sitting right next to her this closely.

"What am I trying to do?" He repeated. "Well, I'm typically a busy man, but I figured I'd take some time to entertain myself.". Celeste moved her hands from her face as she watched the man sip some more on his martini.

"Is making girls feel embarrassed how you entertain yourself?". She huffed.

"Not exactly -- it's just mildly amusing seeing drunk people humiliate themselves. I've already seen quite a few tonight.". The bartender came back sliding over the fruity concoction to Celeste. "What’s your name?" The stranger asked. There was no way in hell she was giving this guy her real name.

“...Celeste, and you?”. She took a sip of her mango lemonade as she stared at him; the slow changing colorful neon lights of the club illuminating both of them.

“Jericho.”. He held a gloved hand out to shake hers and Celeste hesitantly reciprocated. “So do you only come here for this bartender?”. Despite being thirsty and infatuated by Darius, Celeste wasn’t going to let Jericho say it out loud.

“A-at first it wasn’t like that. I usually only like going out with friends because I like dancing.” She noticed him raising a brow when she said that, making her look away -- she hated when people stared at her like this. “Then I met Darius here while he was working… He was so nice to me. Protecting me from creepy men and talking with me when I felt scared to head to the dance floor. It’s like he could read me so easily when I was upset and he always knows how to make me smile when I need it.”. Celeste paused for a moment as she felt herself smile softly at the memory of their first meeting. Her mind taking in the music on the speakers as she almost got lost in thought.

♫Suffocated from the radiated air around us

Full of happiness we don't have

Brightness gone so dark

Without you girl♫

She could feel Jericho’s stare on her, almost snapping her out of her trance. Shyly looking back to him to meet his electric blue gaze, Celeste gave a weak smile.

“Sorry, I’m rambling. I just… I know he wouldn’t date me.”. Jericho stared at her then at his empty martini glass, setting it down before leaning his arm against the bar as he spoke to the shy starry eyed girl across from him. It was so oddly comforting to let out her woes to a stranger because in her mind she wasn’t expecting to ever see him again after tonight.

“And why not? You seem like a nice young lady,” he said, catching Celeste off guard. “Have you actually tried asking him out?”. That was a good question and in all honesty, she really hadn’t. There was something almost endearing with the way she thought about the question before looking down at her hands that she had firmly on her lap. “Heh, I’m guessing that’s a ‘No’?”. Jericho stared curiously as the shorter of the two sighed before she moved a strand of her pastel purple hair from her face and looked back at him. Her deep tan colored skin had the neon lights of the club illuminating it as the two of them had shades of blue and purple wash over them from spotlights.

“Yeah… You’re right, I haven’t tried asking him. I guess I’m just not confident enough in myself.”. Celeste watched as Jericho chuckled at her again. “H-hey come on, what’s so funny?”.

“Heh, nothing. It just seems so strange to me that a girl -- who’d willingly put herself out there and dance with such confidence in herself -- believes that she’s lacking in the ability to charm someone.” he stated. It seemed like Jericho was trying to insinuate something to boost her a bit, but was it a genuine compliment or was he just curious to see how she’d react out of boredom? It didn’t matter as Celeste hadn’t picked up on the tone in his voice.

“Well… Yeah. I do think that. You don’t really think I’m actually charming or cute enough to boldly ask him out, do you?” Celeste sighed. That smirk appeared on his face again except Celeste didn’t look away nervously from him again. Her eyes didn’t break eye contact with his own.

“And what if I do?” he asked. “What if I thought you were cute in a demure way?”. Jericho said all this knowing very well she couldn’t respond properly -- it seemed like he was enjoying seeing her quickly become sheepish. Even under all the slow changing colored lights, he can tell her face was blushing at his words. “Haha, you should try asking this Darius fellow out,” he expressed with that laughter Celeste has now come to find sickly captivating. “I’m sure he’d love to see you blush in embarrassment when you attempt to.”.

There was a moment of peaceful silence between them besides the music on the speakers while Celeste quietly sipped on her mango lemonade drink till she was finished.

“Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn’t an alcohol drinker…” he thought to himself. Jericho saw as Celeste slowly stood up, hands fidgeting with the end of her sweater crop top anxiously.

“You’re right, I-I can’t ever know the answer if I never try shooting my shot, you know?” Celeste stammered. “Er… O-Okay! I’ll go home and call to see if I can visit him later…” she shyly said with a nod, Jericho’s words reassuring her. It was a little hard to find a proper response to being enamored by an utter stranger, yet Celeste wanted to give him some kind of thank you. Awkwardly holding her hand out again, the bracelet around her wrist jingling. “Thanks for listening to me… I-it was nice meeting you, Jericho.”.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” he responded without missing a beat, shaking her hand once more.

“U-um… D-do you think I’ll see you again sometime?” Celeste asked. She hadn’t noticed her hand lingered in his hold for a bit before pulling it back quickly.

“Perhaps you’ll see me again,” Jericho lied, knowing how dangerous it’d be if she found out what he did for a living. “Besides, I’m sure I won’t forget your face.”. He really had to get that last jab in, huh? It looked like his last little compliment worked as Celeste gave him one more shy sweet expression, only this time she was smiling. “See you, around, Celeste.”.

“Y-yeah… see ya, Jericho…”. The starry eyed woman left in a hurry, covering her face with the sleeve of her sweater on her way out. Jericho grinned as she left before ordering another drink from the bartender. As the song came to it’s last chorus, he began humming along softly, thinking how nice it would be if he allowed himself to see her again .

♫Time changed

We're different

But my mind still says redundant things

Can I not think?

Will you love this part of me

My lover is a day I can't forget

Furthering my distance from you

Realistically I can't leave now

But I'm okay as long as you

Keep me from going crazy

Keep me from going crazy♫

#Drabbles.#Pending Jericho Tag.#((PHEW this took a bit))#((also i know technically they'd be listening to something more early 2000s on the speakers #but I like this song soooo))#((also I wasn't sure if I had the greenlight to make Jericho flirty so I did half flirty and half not))#cardsbizarreadventure #cσмιηg яιgнт υρ! ☕ (Answers)#((Also shouldve put in the post but Darius belongs to Vvolgarov))

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kindofcashton · 4 years

Text

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 • chapter 9 (Calum Hood AU)

HANGOVERS WERE SUCH a bitch. Not only was my head pounding like a jackhammer, my body felt physically ill. I could barely move when I woke up the next morning, not to mention the night before took a while to even remember. I pieced together flashes until a succinct timeline began to form. I remembered fruity drinks and loud music and a scratchy beard and a dark-haired boy that I kept pushing away whenever he reached out to help me. As soon as I remembered Calum practically peeling the stranger off of me, my stomach twisted into knots. It was humiliating, and my reaction to him didn’t help my case. I didn’t necessarily regret having fun with a random guy in a club, but it wasn’t my finest hour for sure. And though I was beyond irritated that Calum thought he had to save me, he deserved more of a thanks than I gave him.

But would I admit this to him in the light of a new day? Absolutely not.

I couldn’t stay in my room forever, and I didn’t want to give Calum any suspicion that last night meant something or had rattled me more than it did. My head was hurting way too much to study the details and figure out if Calum had any ulterior motives. Besides, so what if he did? I didn’t like Calum and he didn’t like me.

When I stumbled into the kitchen, surely looking like a zombie fresh out of a grave, Luke gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Morning, sunshine,” he joked lightly as I grabbed a box of cereal and collapsed in the chair next to him. His blue eyes were kind as he took in my awful appearance. “Fun night?”

“You could say that,” I grumbled, blindly reaching into the box as I ate the cereal dry. It was sugary and vaguely reminiscent of cardboard, but since I was hungover it tasted like the best damn food I’d ever had.

Hannah was sprawled across Ashton on the living room couch, and she gave me a half-hearted wave. He was rubbing her shoulders and she looked half-dead too. I bet her hangover was just as bad as mine.

“Why do we drink?” she groaned, rubbing her temples. Ashton laughed and toyed with her hair, but she swatted at him. “I’m serious, I always forget how much being hungover sucks.”

I took a big handful of cereal. “Because being drunk is fun.” It was true; I don’t think I’d ever laughed as much in one day as I did last night. Sure, being drunk made me slightly stupid and naive, but at least I was blissfully ignorant.

“You would call what happened fun?”

My guard flew up as soon as Calum walked in. His tone was sharp and accusing, and I grit my teeth. I hadn’t told Hannah exactly what happened with the blonde guy; when she’d asked if I ever found him, I said I did and that he was a half-decent kisser. I left out the part where he nearly took all my clothes off in a crowded club and Calum came in to save me.

My skin prickled as he sat in the chair diagonal to me, eyebrows raised in expectation.

I chewed slowly on the cereal, tentatively asking, “What?”

“You’re eating my cereal.”

Blinking in surprise, I glanced at the box. It was the stupid frosted stuff he ate every damn day, and I had my hand buried in it. Flushing a deep red, I handed him the box and swallowed the half-chewed lump of cereal in my mouth, choking slightly as it went down the wrong pipe.

“Sorry,” I wheezed, avoiding his gaze as per usual. I had no idea what he thought of last night, and I wasn’t about to find out in front of all our friends. They began to clear out one by one though, as Luke and Michael left for work and Ashton attempted to disconnect from Hannah who held on to him like a child.

“You’re girlfriend is dying and you’re just gonna leave?” she cried, dramatically throwing a hand across her forehead. Ashton rolled his eyes and moved her legs off his lap.

“You’re not dying babe, you’re hungover. And you have Calum and Scarlett to take care of you.”

Hannah pouted. “Scarlett’s hungover too, so that leaves Calum alone to take care of both of us.”

“I don’t need Calum to take care of me,” I muttered, not even fully aware that I said the words out loud. Fortunately I said it too quiet for Hannah or Ashton to hear, but Calum visibly tensed in front of me.

“Oh, really?” he fired back, jabbing his spoon roughly into the bowl of cereal before him.

Leaning back with my arms folded, I forced my face to remain neutral. “Really. I don’t need someone coddling me, I can deal with things myself.”

This made him look up, and piercing brown eyes trapped my green ones. He looked almost angry. “And what exactly are you dealing with?” His question left me floored, and I couldn’t help the surprised gasp that left my lips. But then I straightened in the chair, controlling my shock.

“What are you talking about?”

He leaned closer so his words only reached my ears. “I don’t believe this bullshit about being on a break from school. We all know Hannah lied, so how do we know you aren’t lying too?”

“We should be respecting my damn privacy, because it’s none of your business.” Panic bells were sounding in my brain. I thought no one questioned my half-assed explanation for leaving school, but clearly one person saw right through the bullshit.

Calum exhaled through his nose. “Whatever it is you’re trying to hide from just became my damn business last night when I had to save you from yourself.”

“I’m not hiding anything!” I hissed. “And you don’t have to save me from myself, like I said I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” he whispered, and we had both leaned forward to the point where we were only inches away from each other. “You were drowning your sorrows in cheap cocktails and gross guys. People who are fine don’t do that.”

My chest was rising and failing erratically, my heart pounding just as hard as the migraine in my head. “You don’t know anything about me, Calum.”

The intensity in his expression had me by the throat, and I couldn’t have looked away even if I wanted to. From such a close proximity I saw the way his jaw was set, how his brows were low with concentration. I also noticed the two small moles on his cheek, and how his hair had the gentlest of curls. I wondered what he was noticing about me.

Finally, painstakingly, he replied, “You’re right. I don’t have a clue.” And then he leaned back, breaking the brief connection we’d had and leaving me with a wall of cold air between us.

“What are you guys bickering about now?” Hannah called distractedly from the living room as she flipped through channels. Ashton had left and the three of us were alone. Calum shrugged his shoulders, still watching me even after our conversation had been forced closed.

“Nothing important, apparently.”

With that, he stood up from the table and left me alone. I thought he’d disappear in his room, or even leave in his car. But instead he went over in the living room with Hannah, and the two of them started watching some show they both liked. I didn’t have work today, which meant I had nowhere to go and no reason to leave. I thought I’d do something with Hannah, but with Calum suddenly very interested in spending time with her I couldn’t just steal her away.

I remembered what she said about being friends with Calum before anyone else. The way they laughed and joked together about whatever they were watching made me wonder how she was so close to someone that was so cold. But Calum and Hannah had some sort of understanding; they squabbled all the time, but were never mad at one another. They could go from criticizing one another to laughing about it a second later. I almost wanted to beg Hannah to tell me all of his secrets. What made him tick? Why was he so closed off to new people? Was there something about me he didn’t like?

I almost felt like I was invading something private, and so I stood up to go back to my room. But then Hannah waved me over. “Come watch, this episode is so funny.”

Glancing at Calum, who was very pointedly looking at the TV, I slowly made my way over. The only place for me to sit was next to Calum, as Hannah had stretched out on one side of the L shaped sofa. He had his long legs resting on the coffee table, looking nonchalant and comfortable. I tried to mimic my position to be just as carefree, but as I sat on a crooked leg I felt stiff and awkward. Why did he have such an effect on me? I couldn’t even sit properly in his presence, for god’s sake. Sighing, I shifted uncomfortably, and I felt his eyes on me for a brief second. But as quick as they came, they left.

For the rest of the day, we were an unlikely trio. We’d binged nearly a whole season of a TV show, and then got so collectively sick of it we had to do something else. Hannah said she wanted to make “something exotic” for dinner, so we spent the afternoon combing the cupboards for the proper ingredients. The most exotic thing we could think of making was a box of pasta with miscellaneous vegetables in the fridge.

Cooking together was actually sort of fun, and I was reminded of making that damned grilled cheese with Calum. A few times we locked eyes, and I was sure he was thinking of that afternoon as well. Having Hannah with us diffused a lot of tension, and a few times we even shared a laugh. The intensity of this morning had evaporated as the three of us worked on our concoction.

“Add garlic powder. No dish with garlic powder could possibly be boring,” I suggested to Hannah as she went through all of the seasonings.

Calum snorted. “I always thought cilantro was the secret key ingredient.” I smiled, stirring the tomato sauce as it bubbled in the small pot.

“You’re burning the mushrooms,” he warned me, and I let out an oh shit as I realized that the crackling sound in the background was my mushrooms turning to black. I frantically scraped at the pan, hoping I could salvage them. Calum came over to lower the stove-top temperature, and examined the wreckage.

“I think they’re done for,” he announced, and I sighed, hands on my hips as I rolled my lips into my mouth. A smile played across his face as he dumped the burnt remains into the garbage. “It’s alright, mushrooms are shit anyways.”

“Hey,” I protested. “I like mushrooms.”

He chuckled, resting the pan in the sink to be scrubbed off. “Duly noted.”

By the time dinner was almost ready the other guys had returned home. Michael immediately said he could smell our burnt food from the driveway, and Luke questioned if what we were making was even edible. Hannah angrily yelled at them and went on and on about how the three of us had spent all day kindly making them a meal and that they better shut up and eat it.

“I love when you get angry,” Ashton complimented as he gave her cheek a kiss. Hannah waved him off.

“Can’t kiss now babe, I’m working,” She was wiping down the plates and preparing them as if this was a cooking competition, while Calum and I leaned against the counter snacking on slightly burnt homemade croutons.

“You know, these don’t suck,” I said, referring to Calum’s handiwork with the croutons. He’d chopped some nearly stale bread and seasoned them with a bunch of things, and seemed fairly proud when they’d come out of the oven.

“Thank you,” he accepted graciously, a note of sarcasm in his voice. “I wish I could say the same about your mushrooms.” I elbowed him with a small chuckle, popping one last crouton in my mouth before leaning forward and joining the others at the table.

Hannah presented everyone with a plate of our pasta, which sort of looked like a lump of penne drenched in sauce with a bunch of nondescript vegetables. I took a seat next to Michael, and Calum took the one on my other side.

Luke poked his fork at a fairly limp looking piece of broccoli. “Yum,” he said with a wince.

Michael coughed slightly. “You guys love you some garlic, huh?”

My jaw dropped. “What, is it too much? I swear I only sprinkled the stuff.” Calum chuckled beside me.

“I told you cilantro was the better option.” I was about to come up with a witty comeback, but then my phone went off in the living room. I quickly went over and scooped it off the coffee table, thinking nothing of it as I answered.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Scarlett Mercer?” I recognized the sound of the woman at the bank. I’d spoken to her quite frequently in the recent weeks, since dealing with my parents’ accounts and what little savings I had required the expertise of an accountant.

I gripped the phone, lowering my voice so the others couldn’t hear. “This is her. Is anything the matter?”

“You received a bill in the mail recently, yes?”

Biting my lip, I responded, “Yes, from school.”

“And have you received the one regarding the pipes?”

My brow furrowed. “Pipes? What pipes?”

“At your parents’ house. A pipe burst in the basement and now there’s no water in the taps.”

I huffed, confused at everything she was saying. “I-I put the house on the market, it’s supposed to be sold to someone else. It’s supposed to be someone else’s problem.”

“Well, unfortunately it hasn’t been closed on yet, so you are still the one responsible for fixing any damages. No one would want to buy a house without working pipes.”

I didn’t appreciate the smart remark at the end of her explanation. I was already worrying about paying off school and did not need another useless expense. I hadn’t even thought of my old house in weeks, I thought someone had already bought it or it was being handled by someone else.

“Um,” I stalled, pressing my fingertips to my forehead as I fought to concentrate on her words. The others were laughing and chatting enthusiastically in the kitchen, sending a stab of remorse into my chest. “I-is there anything left in any of the accounts that I could use to pay for this? It’s just, I’m at a new job and I can’t--”

“There’s nothing else to tap into, unfortunately. The last amount went to finishing off hospital bill payments.”

“Right,” I said, panic bubbling up in my throat. “I...how much time do I have? It’s just, I have to figure out...some things before I can pay.” Yeah, figure out where the hell I’m gonna get the money.

“It’s not a pressing issue, but the sooner the better would be preferable.”

I wanted to throttle this woman. Which was it, not a pressing issue or the sooner the better? I sighed, pacing across the floor to quell some of my nerves.

“Okay. I will...call you, when I figure this out. I’ll call as soon as I can.” I didn’t wait to hear her reply, as I ended the call and dropped my phone onto the couch. My head was spinning as I returned to the table, suddenly sick to my stomach at the sight of my half-eaten food.

“Everything okay?” Ashton asked, stealing a crouton from Hannah’s salad. I nodded, not even really paying attention.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I ignored the way Calum’s hand stilled by his glass of water, obviously hearing my bullshitted answer and remembering how I’d said the same thing this morning.

I pushed the food around my plate until everyone else was done, and didn’t hesitate before fleeing to my room to be alone. I knew Hannah wanted me to relax about schoolwork, but for some reason hearing from the bank just made me desperate to dive into studying. It was a coping mechanism that definitely didn’t hurt anyone, just made me a little crazy and overworked. But now more than ever I wanted to reconnect with school, and what better way than to learn about the fascinating field of psychology?

Only I couldn’t study if I couldn’t find my textbook. I tore my room apart looking for the damn thing, finding only my notebook and a different textbook from my physics class.

“Where is it?” I murmured, pushing a hand through my hair as I left my room to check downstairs. I thought everyone had gone to sleep, but when I heard someone in the kitchen it made me jump. Calum was doing the dishes, alone and illuminated by only one light in the ceiling.

“What’s up?” he asked upon seeing my stricken expression. I shook my head at his loaded tone and looked around the kitchen for the book.

“I can’t find my psych textbook, and I really need to study right now.” I was well aware of how crazy I sounded, considering it was late and Calum knew I was bullshitting.

He didn’t say anything, just dried off his hands with a towel and left to go upstairs. I rolled my eyes, wondering how I’d pissed him off this time. Exhausted and defeated, I fell onto the couch and stared at the blank TV screen. A day that had seemed to be going alright ended shitty, as things always seemed to end with me. I didn’t think I’d ever catch a break, and knew that whenever I got comfortable something would come along to fuck it up.

“Forgot I had this.” Calum’s voice broke through my thoughts and I looked up as he entered the living room, handing me the very textbook I’d lost. I was so stunned it took me a second to actually take it from him, and once I did he casually stuck his hands in his jogger pockets. “I was bored out of my mind the other day and thought I’d give it a go.”

I frowned, flipping through the freshly dog-eared pages. “You felt like reading a psychology textbook for fun?” I closed the cover and held the book on my lap. Calum fell onto the sofa next to me, shrugging.

“It was fairly interesting, although I disagreed with a lot of theories. That Adler guy has inferiority complexes all wrong.”

My eyebrows shot up, not quite believing what I was hearing. “So you read it, but you also remembered a specific theorist and his ideas?”

Calum shrugged again. “Like I said, light reading.”

I narrowed my eyes, looking back down at the textbook. “You’re a lot smarter than you let on, huh?” I voiced aloud. Calum didn’t appear particularly book smart, and I wondered if he was ashamed of it or wanted to keep it secret.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, and I frowned at his unsatisfactory answer.

“No, you should be proud of it. Being smart is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Who ever said I was ashamed?” His voice was freezing, and for a second I was worried I’d pissed him off. But there was a glint in his brown eyes, and I shoved him lightly.

“Alright, wise guy. If you’re so unashamed then why don’t you help me study? Quiz me on anything.” I leaned my head back against the couch cushion, eyes closed as I giggled. Calum took the textbook from me, and opened to a random page to begin asking me questions.

I had my eyes shut most of the time to concentrate, but somehow I still knew he was smiling.

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huntertales · 4 years

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Part One: Unwanted House Guest. (Devil May Care S09E01)

Episode Summary: In the aftermath of the fall, Sam and the reader are taken by surprise when they learn Crowley is still alive--and stuffed in the trunk of the Impala. A temporary situation before the reader and the Winchesters relocate him to the Men of Letters dungeon. Kevin is anything but enthusiastic about seeing the king of hell under the same roof as him. However the three hunters want the demon close, hoping Crowley will provide useful information about others of his kind. Meanwhile, Abaddon re-emerges and plans to take over hell. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,098.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You knew better than anyone that if things seem bad, it could always be worse. Somehow it always managed to get to that point for you. The months you spent trying to close the gates of hell turned out to be more complicated than you lead yourself to believe. Heaven was in shambles and you had your own personal business you were trying to push off from thinking about for long as possible. The best way to do that was to sleep. You managed to get a few extra hours after the stop for gas, when you woke up you discovered you were almost back to Lebanon. Dean wanted to hit up a rest stop after driving all night to get some fresh air and take the opportunity to stretch your legs. Nothing like taking in the sight of nature to help ease one’s troubled mind.

While you and the boys enjoyed the mostly empty scenery, you were able to catch each other up on the events that unfolded while you were both away doing your own thing. You couldn’t be sure if Dean had learned anything from his brother over the two days you spent at the hospital. All of you had been dealing with...unexpected events. You wouldn’t have put it past Sam if he didn’t want to talk about what happened that night.

Dean told you the reason why he was called away from helping with the demon trials after Cas appeared out of nowhere needing his assistance with something big—shutting the pearly gates of heaven big. It was connected to the angels dropping out of the sky. The poor bastard was tricked into doing a series of trials like you had completed in the span of a few months, only it took him one night. He thought this was going to fix up heaven and turn it back into a place like how he wanted. Cas had gotten some help from Metatron, an angel the four of you thought was one of the good guys. Turned out he was a selfish dick like the rest of his siblings.

The supposed trials that Cas had done that night turned out to be a spell. He had gotten every ingredient that Metatron had needed, except for the most crucial one of all: an angel’s grace. Instead of wasting his time trying to find someone vulnerable enough to extract it from, Metatron went for someone who had been useful to him. Cas was drained of all his grace and thrown down to earth with the rest of his siblings. You didn’t know if the rest of the angels were weak as him. You knew for sure that an angel needed their grace, it’s what powers them up. Without it they were like the rest of humanity. Powerless. Useless.

“So, what,” You made your way back to the picnic table to take a seat next to Sam to continue the conversation with the boys about the angel who once was. “Cas is human?”

“Ish. I mean, he's got no grace, no wings, no...harp, whatever the hell else he had.” Dean told you of the unfortunate news of how your best friend was affected from the fall and the part he played in it. He pushed himself back up into a sitting position when he saw the overwhelmed expression on your face from how everything seemed to be unraveling all at once.

“Okay.” Sam wasn’t exactly positive on how Cas could handle himself against his siblings that were trying to hunt him down and seek a little revenge after being cast down to earth. Who knew how vulnerable Cas was with all of his grace gone. If it made him human like the rest of you, he was going to have to deal with things he never experienced before. Hunger, thirst. The need to sleep. Basic instincts that were going to be all new to him. You wondered if it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to find the guy before he could somehow get into even more trouble than he already was “Where did he crash land?”

“Called me from a pay phone from Longmont, Colorado.” Dean said. “I told him just to make for the bunker.”

“Well, you think he can handle a road trip like that?” You shared your concern for letting the angel travel alone with everything unfolding.

“Well, Cas is a big boy. Things go Breaking Bad, he knows our number.” Dean reassured your worried mind about the potential threat to your friend’s safety. Cas had a target painted on his back, but it wasn’t the first time something like this happened. He always managed to come out of this unscathed. “Right now we have bigger worries.”

“The fallen angels?” You wondered if that’s what he was hinting around.

“Yeah.” Dean said. “I mean, thanks to Metatron, we now have a couple of thousand confused loose nukes walking around down here.”

Sam couldn’t help himself when he let out a chuckle from the newest problem that fell into your lap. “What do you think they’re gonna do?”

“I got no damn clue.” Dean muttered.

"What about Crowley?" You asked about the demon you had almost forgotten all about. Your mind had been so wrapped up in trying to catch up on the things you had missed out on, you didn’t realize you had left the king of hell chained up back at the church. You wondered if he was still there. “Did you…” You gave the oldest Winchester a curious expression as you mimicked slitting your throat with your index finger, wondering if he killed the demon once and for all.

“I would’ve loved nothing better than to ice that limey bitch.” Dean admitted to you. You gave him a slightly confused look as to why he didn’t do that in the first place. He pushed himself closer to the edge of the picnic table and told you the ulterior motive he had to keep the demon still breathing. “But then I thought to myself, ‘What would Y/N Y/L/N do’?”

“Easy.” You answered the hypothetical question without hesitation. So easy and casual from the things you were discussing. “I would’ve stabbed him in the brain.”

“Oh.” Dean was a little surprised at your violent response. Normally it was him who liked to pull the trigger and dispose of the monster without question, not wanting to deal with the headache it would bring later on. You and Sam liked to think of a logical standpoint, which was what the older man did in this situation. He thought what benefit Crowley might bring if you kept him around for a little while longer. Considering how the demon helped you out a few times in the past, he might do it again with a little persuasion. “Well, I figured the king of hell might know a few things, so why not ‘Zero Dark Thirty’ his ass?”

“Wait.” You pushed yourself up from the table and back to your feet when the boys did as well, following them to the back of the parked Impala several feet away. “So Crowley is alive?”

Dean answered your question by unlocking the trunk and opening it up, revealing someone you thought was long dead by now. Even Sam was surprised to see the king of hell himself and the circumstances he landed himself in; handcuffed and quiet with a piece of duct tape over his mouth to keep him from attracting any unwanted attention. “He’s the junk in my trunk.”

You placed your hands on your hips and stared down at the demon from the vulnerable state he was in. A smirk creeping at the ends of your lips when you realized he was still at your mercy. You were tempted to take a picture to mock the demon for the predicament he got himself in. However you knew he wasn’t going to live longer than you needed him. For now you enjoyed his humiliation for the sake of your own entertainment. All the crap he put you through over the years, how powerful he thought he was, and this was what came of the demon. And it was only the beginning for what you had in store for him.

+ + +

A few more hours and you were back in Lebanon and pulled up into the place you had been calling home over the past several months, the bunker. It felt like years since you'd been back here. The sight made a comforting ease wash over you. You could unwind and catch your breath from the past few days. The first thing you were going to do after you got Crowley settled in was taking a shower to unwind your aching muscles and digest everything. Dean busied himself with checking up on the prophet he abandoned over the past few days without even a call to update the kid on the reasons why all of you were gone longer than expected. Along with the news that sat in the back of his mind.

Dean made his way inside the bunker while you and Sam took care of getting your guest out of the trunk without much fuss. You made sure to go the extra mile to make sure to keep Crowley from knowing your whereabouts. The bunker might have been warded against all evil and monsters, still didn't mean there would be trouble waiting outside your front door if demons even caught a whiff of where you lived. Patience was a virtue anyone could have if it meant they could kill the enemy once and for all.

The older Winchester managed to take a few steps inside before he found himself being attacked in his own home. He saw something move from the corner of his eye and land directly not too far from where he was standing. It took him a few seconds to figure out there was an arrow sticking out from the handrail not too far from where he stood. Dean walked forward to the ledge and broke the wooden arrow off. His brow furrowed in confusion from who could have done it. Someone who had no sense of aim, that’s who.

“What the hell?" Dean muttered to himself just loud enough for his voice to echo through the quiet air.

His words drifted down to the lower level of the bunker and to the library where Dean heard what sounded to be ruckus, causing his eyes to wander over to a sight that he wasn't expecting to see. It seemed Kevin had grown paranoid while you and the boys were gone. It was him who had shot the arrow at Dean from the comfort of his hideout. One of the tables was overturned to its side and a barricade of books for some kind of added measure for his safety. Kevin stood up with a crossbow in hand. It explained the unexpected attack, but not enough for Dean to understand why the kid went to such great lengths to keep himself safe.

"Dean?" Kevin sounded surprised at the sight of the oldest Winchester standing on top of the staircase. After everything that happened over the past few days Kevin wouldn't have put it past himself if he started hallucinating a familiar face in some kind of attempt to calm himself down. Maybe he was suffering some sort of mental breakdown from the traumatic stress he endured over the past few days. The annoyed expression on the man's face made Kevin realize that it was very much in fact Dean Winchester. "You're alive!"

"Yeah, 'cause you're a crappy shot...Katniss." Dean tossed the arrow to the ground and shook his head at the kid's itchy trigger finger.

"Sorry. It's been a bad couple of days. I-I haven't kept, or eat." Kevin admitted about his well being. Dean made his way down the staircase to meet the kid in the war room, the crossbow still in Kevin's hand as he carried out of the library. He felt a little embarrassed about what he was about to confess, but it was the truth. The things he witnessed…scared the crap out of him. Yet he hadn’t experienced much luck when he tried to relieve himself. "I'm pretty backed up."

“Okay, overshare.” Dean muttered, not really needing to know that little detail.

“After we talked, this place went nuts, all right? There was some alarm, and all the machines were freaking out. And the bunker just locked down. I couldn’t open the door. My cell phone stopped working. I thought the world was ending.” Kevin gave the man a glimpse into the catastrophe he witnessed himself on his end. He wanted to believe that he was just going insane, but the look that crossed Dean’s face was easy to read. Nothing good came of it.

“Close.” Dean told the man. “The angels fell.”

“What does that mean?” Kevin asked, not sure if he was supposed to understand.

“Nothing good.” He said, leaving it at that for now. Dean reached for the crossbow to take it out of the prophet’s hand, not sure where he even got it in the first place, and set it down on the table next to them. “Listen, next time the world’s ending, grab a gun.” Kevin stood there for a moment as he tried to wrap his mind around what the older man meant by fallen angels. Dean shoved his hand inside his pocket for his phone as he took a few steps away from the younger man, wondering if there still wasn't any service. However he saw a full set of bars like he always did. Everything seemed to be running as usual. "I got service."

Kevin went over to the control panel and flipped a switch, powering back up the machine as some lights above turned back on while noises of life came from the panel. He looked around to see that everything had returned back to the way it was before.

"It's back online." Kevin noticed. The Men of Letters machinery and technology was dated back decades, far inferior compared to the advancements of today. However Kevin thought he might have had a slight understanding of what happened and how it all worked. "Maybe when you opened the door from the outside door, it reset the system."

"Yeah, okay, let's go with that." Dean didn't have a single clue what the kid was talking about, so he agreed with whatever came out of his mouth. It sounded smart enough to be right.

Dean looked back up to the staircase when he heard the heavy metal door open and shut, followed along with three pairs of footsteps approaching. You headed down first with Sam following behind you, your temporary houseguest tight in the man’s grip. You slipped a black bag over Crowley's head so he couldn't see anything except pitch black, along with some noise cancelling headphones you found buried in the back of the Impala. You used them a few times when you were learning how to shoot a gun many years ago after you complained about the noise being too loud. Dean gifted them to you to help practice until you adapted and they ended up useless, until today. They made the perfect accessory for Crowley. This way the demon couldn’t hear or see a single thing.

"Hey." Sam stopped halfway down the staircase and called out to his brother.. "We good?"

"Is it ever." Dean said. "Come on."

You joined Dean in heading to the dungeon to set things up for Crowley as Sam dragged your guest down the stairs without too much trouble. While the sight of the demon falling down the steps would have been amusing on your part, you needed him in one piece from the things you were about to ask of him. Whether he wanted to participate or not, you weren’t going to give him much of a choice.You and the boys thought having the king of hell occupying the one place in the entire bunker where he couldn't escape would have been a fool proof plan. Crowley wasn't going anywhere from the devil's trap on the floor along with the handcuffs around his wrists.

However you didn’t seem to ask about how someone else might feel about living under the same roof as the king of hell. The demon who had kidnapped him several times. Who cut off his pinky finger. Who made his life a living hell on earth. Possessed his mother...killed the only family member he had left in this world. Kevin didn’t need to see the face to know who it was. The dread that filled him was enough to put the pieces together on his own.

Sam settled Crowley into a chair you were kind enough to give to the demon for the duration of the stay, however that was going to be. You figured it wasn’t going to be too long from the way he acted at the church. The devil's trap and handcuffs might have been enough to keep the demon in one place, but you went the extra mile when you placed the chain around his neck to stop the demon from doing anything stupid. Dean ripped off the bag from Crowley's head when he was finally settled in, blinding the demon from the floresignt light he wasn't used to seeing. The last to come off was the duct tape still on Crowley’s lips, giving him a chance to speak for the first time in days.

Crowley winced in pain at the feeling of the tape's residue ripping off a few of his facial hairs from his beard. After his eyes adjusted to the light, the demon was welcomed by the sight of three of his favorite humans. "Hello—” Before the demon could say his usual greeting, Dean cut him off by punching him straight in the face. The punch was unexpected as Crowley let out a slight noise of pain, almost like a groan.

“Never get tired of doing that.” Dean said. He would take every chance he could get to punch the demon in his face. He threw the bag to a corner of the dungen and stepped back, joining you and Sam for the little talk you were about to have.

Crowley took a moment to look around the place after discovering he was finally out of the trunk of the Impala and given a chance to stretch his legs. The sight was a little on the duller side for his personal taste from the concrete walls and shades of grey. But when Crowley discovered all sorts of torture devices to his right, the demon’s interest perked up in curiosity. “Homey. Where did you get this fantastic little tree house?”

“All right, here’s how it’s gonna go.” Sam spoke up, bringing the demon’s attention over to him. You crossed your arms over your chest when you noticed Crowley’s eyes wander to the pad and pencil the younger Winchester was holding. He had a feeling all of you weren’t here to hear about Crowley’s upbringing and rise to power. “You’re giving us the name of every demon on earth and the people they’re possessing.”

“Am I?” Crowley asked. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

"Sam and I saw you break down, Crowley.” You called out the demon on his past behavior that told you a much different story. The night you completed the final trial might have been a blur, but you clearly remembered the revelation you and Crowley had together. What he was willing to do in order to be forgiven from his past mistakes. “When I was trying to cure you, I know a part of you was human again, maybe still is."

"Blah-blah. Boo-hoo. Done?" Crowley raised his brow from the touching moment you were trying to have with him. You rolled your eyes in annoyance from the way he was acting. It meant he was back to his arrogant self. Not a care in the world for anyone but himself. "Good. 'Cause this is what I know. I'm not giving you anything. You have no leverage, darlings. You're not gonna close the gates of hell because you didn't. You're not gonna kill me because you haven't. So, what's left?"

“We have a few ideas.” You reassured the demon.

“Torture? Brillant. Can’t wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier really putting the S-A-M into S-and-M.” Crowley must’ve thought he was hilarious from the smile that settled to the edges of his lips. A joke that was too easy to make. "Honestly, Kitten, what are you gonna do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?”

Psychical torture was the first thing that crossed Crowley's mind. It was something that, if done properly, would have made the toughest of demons talk. The three of you had your fair share done to you. Sam spent God knows how long in the cage being a personal toy for Michael and Lucifer, Dean learned everything about the craft from Alistair. Not to mention you had enough inflicted upon you to learn how to break someone. Much as you would have enjoyed slicing Crowley up, you had better things to do than try and crack him. You didn't need to hurt someone to break them down. Hell, you didn’t have to lift a finger.

You didn't waste the effort to respond to Crowley. Instead, you made your way to the door as the boys followed behind, showing the demon about what his punishment was going to be if he didn't cooperate. They slid the shelves back into place as Dean told the demon to have fun. You snickered to yourself as you flicked off the lights and slammed the door shut when all of you stepped out into the hall. The demon was alone all by himself in complete darkness. He was so used to having demons waiting at his beck and call, fearing about what sort of punishment would be inflicted upon them if they didn’t do their very best for their king. Now he was in time out. Maybe a little solitude from any kind of contact was what Crowley needed.

You made your way back to the library to see the mess that you had walked into was cleaned up by Kevin. The table was put back to normal and all the books on the floor were now properly back on the shelf. You were about to ask the kid about how he was handling himself from the dishelieved appearance, obviously having a bad few days himself. Before you could get the words out, Kevin was bombarding you with some questions of his own. You didn't seem to think about how Crowley's stay wasn't going to settle well with Kevin.

“What’s Crowley doing here? Why isn’t he dead?!” Kevin yelled at you and the boys when you made your way into the library. You understood that he was upset about what you had done, but you weren’t in the mood to deal with his attitude. You were up to your eyeballs in stress, among other things you really didn’t want to think about. “Why aren’t you stabbing him right now?!”

"All right, all right. Chill out, Kevin, okay?" Dean told the kid. "We need him."

“What?” Kevin hissed at all of you, sounding nothing short of confused at the reason why you would do something so stupid as to trust a demon to tell the truth.

"Kevin, look,” Sam tried to explain best as he could for him to understand your reasoning, “if we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he's got topside, we can hunt them down—all of them."

"He will break, okay? And when he does, we'll hold him down while you knife him. Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers." Dean reassured the prophet about your plan, along with the happy ending to all of this once Crowley gave you what you wanted. Kevin wasn’t convinced.

“Just stay away from him, all right?” You told him. “Pretend like he’s not here.”

Kevin rolled his eyes from your crappy advice that that wasn't going to help his nerves. He knew there was no way he was going to get you to budge on moving the king of hell elsewhere, it was him who was going to have to adjust. Much as it was going to pain him. “So, now what?”

“I got to make some phone calls. You need to hit the angel tablet, see if you can find anything on the spell that Metatron used to empty out heaven.” Dean instructed the prophet, giving him one task that only he could handle.

“Yeah, maybe we can reverse it before the God squad does too much damage.” Sam said.

"If we're lucky. All right, check the net for anything angel-y." Dean instructed you and his brother, figuring the best way to start on tackling the disaster was by finding a lead and going from there.

"Or demon-y." Sam added on.

"Or monster-y. Or ghost-y. Or..." Dean listed off everything else you normally looked for when you searched the internet for a possible case. Not only was heaven in disarray, you still had to deal with the aftermath of hell and a knight on the hunt for a new meatsuit after you set her old one up into flames. She was most likely planning her revenge on you, waiting for the moment to peel your flesh off the bone. Dean let out a sigh from the trouble coming your way. "It's gonna be a busy year."

"I need a drink." You muttered to yourself. You rubbed your eyes from the stress that seemed like it was never gonna end. Everything was happening so fast, faster than your brain could process. "Sammy, I'll help you in a little while. I just want to shower. Maybe make a call myself. See if we can't get an extra set of hands looking around for us."

“You think of calling up Josh?” Dean asked you. He tried to make his voice sound like he was curious about finding out the person you wanted to get into contact with, in some kind of attempt to hide the heistantance of bringing him involved. There was too much going on. He couldn’t handle another person interfering in his life right now, having to explain the same story that didn’t get any easier saying. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

“He’s helped us before in the past with these kinds of things. We need him more than ever.” You said. You made your way over to the mini fridge Dean bought a week after you officially decided you were staying here on a long term trial. You opened it up and grabbed a beer without a second thought, not realizing how strange the sight was to the three men. You twisted off the top and took a swing, the alcoholic taste was more refreshing than you had realized it was going to be. “God, feels like it’s been months since I’ve had a drink.”

You made your way to your own bedroom with the neck of the beer between your fingertips as your other arm rested against your side, not realizing the sight was off putting for someone who still thought you were...still progressing in some things. You let your mind linger on the things that were more important at the moment: how were you going to fix heaven and send all the angels back upstairs. Figure out where the hell Cas was and if he was okay. Learn how to kill a knight of hell. And on top of it all, somehow try and find a way to make Crowley chatty. Like how he had gotten back at the church. You had a feeling if you asked him anything in that moment, he would have told you without an ounce of hesitance.

All though the past several days had been a bit blurry, you vividly remembered how Crowley had gotten as you neared the end of the injections of human blood. He displayed emotions you had never seen out of a demon before. Regret. Guilt. He wanted to confess his greatest sins if it made him be freed from the burden of his past mistakes. The secret desire to be loved. You felt a sense of empathy for him in that moment. Both of you wanted the same thing. To be freed from your past, to be loved for who you were. All you wanted was to do the right thing. And even then...you screwed it all up. Like you always did. You hurt the ones you loved the most.

You didn’t realize you had started to cry when you felt something wet roll down your cheeks, making you reach a hand up and quickly wipe away the tears escaped without a chance for you to stop them. For the first time you were alone and left to come to terms with the reality of your grim situation. You were pregnant. Past tense. No longer. Every single time you thought about it made your heart feel like someone was stabbing it with a knife. You wanted to sink down to the floor and let yourself feel every emotion that had been brewing in the back of your mind since Dean told you the news. Much as you tried to bury it down and pretend like it didn’t exist, there was no denying it anymore.

There was no way to change past and undo all of this from happening. You didn't know if that helped or hurt the situation, knowing there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. You guessed it left you with two options to handle the situation.Sit and wallow in self pity, wonder where you went wrong. Ponder on the thought of death for the sacrifice of closing the gates of hell for good. Or you could do what you always did. Suck it up and shove your feelings down. Focus on what mattered most.

You inhaled a deep breath and remind yourself that, while it was sad for what you went through, you were only six weeks along. Women have it much worse when it comes to this kind of stuff. They to endure the trauma of expecting a child and losing them. The excitement they had, the sensation of knowing they were carrying a new life, was gone just like that. For the first time in your life, you got lucky when it came to dealing with the trauma. At least, that's what you were telling yourself to get through this.

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings

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nidhoggssoultrap · 4 years

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My "Headcanon" (Nidhogg, Louie, and Yvette. Mostly Nidhogg) Part 1

This one is a long one, so I'll be splitting it into parts. I don't think I have ever had a headcanon list this long. Jesus...anyway,

I ship him with Louie shamelessly and without apology. I know that they are adopted brothers, but well, it doesn't stop me, and I hope you don't read Game of Thrones or Angel Sanctuary because BLOOD incest is CANON in both. Anyway, I started out shipping them in a "bitter ex" sense, but it quickly became a situation where Nidhogg wanted more than being a "brother and a friend" and Louie did not and it's unlikely that he ever would. This leads to a lot of heartache for Nidhogg, but he loves Louie very much and while he has attempted erotic things with him, he backs off when Louie refuses. The fact that Nidhogg is unwilling to set aside his feelings for Louie has actually saved him.

The outcome? While they do eventually reconcile, Nidhogg accepts the fact that they will never be anything more than brothers/friends. Louie ends up with Yvette. Nidhogg? Well, I dunno. Shade, for some reason, is creeping up.

Plotbunny: Louie visits Nidhogg at a base and tricks him into thinking that he has finally "seen the light" and it willing to not only side with the Dark, but to become lovers like Nidhogg wanted. They do what is known as a "grudgefuck" with Louie in control (alternate: Nidhogg tries to kiss him but Louie rebuffs him). Either way, Louie grabs Nidhogg by the chin and says, "There'll be a chance for 'us' when you bring Lunar back to me." (Alternate: After they kiss/grudgesex, Louie stabs Nidhogg in the heart and gets shot in the heart by Nidhogg. They die in each others's arms. "As it should be..." (well, according to Nidhogg).

2. I DO NOT ship Nidhogg/Yvette. She deserves better. That being said, she was never interested in him in THAT way. She only liked "the idea of him." In reality, while she did admire him and legit like him, she had no romantic/erotic interest in him at all. Nidhogg also was not interested in her in that way as well, in my headcanon, "he prefers the company of men." He viewed her as someone who was not only an image, but someone to "vent his spleen on". He did, however, come to view her as a friend, sister and maybe even a daughter. It's why he ended up getting "cold feet" and chose not to keep her and send her home. She was supposed to be sent elsewhere as part of a "quest" in order for Nidhogg to gain even more power. If he fails, then he will be "doubly cursed" with both the Blood Curse and a "Fail Curse."

He figured that there is still time and when he is on the losing end of the war, he kidnaps her again which leads to a very long and intense car chase between him and Nikki's group(Louie driving). This is basically a Louie vs Nidhogg and due to Yvette's actions at the end(she bites Nidhogg and tries to fight him, not caring about the blood curse or dying as she DID not want to end up "in a box" for the rest of her life), the car chase ends and a knock down drag out fight between Louie and Nidhogg begins. It ends in the latter's defeat, and he ends up "doubly cursed", humiliated by Louie(needlessly), and banished out of Miraland through a "transport tree". At least for awhile.

3. Speaking of kidnapping, I honestly believed that he actually drove out of Lilith with her. I thought that he "kidnapped" her because someone was after them and he took her to protect her. Hehe...yea, right. Still, I kept the idea that he drove her out of Lilith to the North Kingdom. As for kidnapping, I cringed how it was handled in canon, so I decided that he would be the one to knock her out with a sleeper hold and that kidnapping was 100% his own choice. She "knew too much" and well, see above.

4. Interesting to see Yvette as a "White Knight" because before I saw that, I did decide that she would become something like that. Like Louie. Nice coincidence. :)

5. Nidhogg speaks in a tenor with a soft-spoken tone. He has a tendency to whisper the final parts of his statements and is capable of sounding very sharp. Some say that he does that as a form of control. Louie says that he has always done that and admits that it sounds good. Nidhogg was a wonderful voice. When he actually sings(and in my headcanon, he does lolol), it's a high tenor range. Louie also sings, but it's lower.

6. Nidhogg drinks vodka/vodka drinks and Jaegermeister. It's one of his few "poisons/weaknesses". He does not, however, smoke or do any other kinds of drugs, except caffeine and vaped nicotine/cbd. He vapes though, but not heavily and it's not common to see him with any kind of mod/e-cig.

7. He has a tarot deck which people think odd considering his attitude about destiny(that, ftr, I generally agree with), but he does not view the tarot as destiny, but only guidelines/advice/warnings. The forecast is like the weather to him. Either way, it's not etched in stone. He likes the art anyway. His tarot deck is military themed. He does NOT overindulge in them as to him, such a thing is weakness that needs to be fixed. He is like that with a lot of things.

8. Like Louie, he can drive/fly anything. Louie is a better pilot/biker, Nidhogg is a better driver. Nidhogg drives a sleek, black, powerful, manual shift sportscar. I want to say BMW, but it could just as easily be a Jaguar. It's the car he was driving when he kidnapped Yvette both times. FTR, Louie was chasing him in a white Porsche. Okay, my biases/kinks are showing, but whatever. :p

9. I hope that Nidhogg ends up like Shield Anvil Itkovian (I highly recommend Memories of Ice and the Malazan series entirely):

"We are all pushed into a world of madness, yet it must now fall to each of us to pull back from this Abyss, to drag ourselves free of the descending spiral. From horror, grief must be fashioned, and from grief, compassion." - Itkovian

Itkovian was a warrior who served a war god. He was a mercenary and he was also the Shield Anvil. He fought in war as one of the leaders, but he also took the pain and suffering from others, took it upon himself and gave it to his God. When his god disappeared, he chose to take the pain of thousands of souls into himself. Because he is THE SHIELD ANVIL. I'd get more in detail, but I don't want to spoil too much. Itkovian is a cinnamon roll. Nidhogg is more of a "problematic fave", but still...

Anyway, I say this because I am aware that Nidhogg willingly took on the Blood Curse and refused to dull it. He, like Itkovian, knew that war causes suffering. The Shield Anvil alleviates that suffering and I suspect that Nidhogg would not mind doing the same thing:

"I did it. I should be the one to undo it." In my headcanon, Nidhogg wants to try to bring Lunar back. Yes, he has ulterior motives(See: Louie and he readily admits this), but he wants to do it anyway as it is still the right thing to do.

10. Nidhogg loves the moon and prefers silver over gold. He LOVES Onyx. He had his ears pierced since he was a teenager and got it done at a tattoo parlor. He tends to wear boot jewelry too.

11. His "animal totem" is the wolf. His temperament is similar to Griffith's of Berserk. However, there might be disagreements about dreams, depending on what one means by dreams. In Nidhogg's mind, ambition and dreams are two different things. You want to compare bad deeds? If you've read both Berserk and Love Nikki, then I think you can take a few guesses. To put it simply, externally, both are cool, calm and collected. Internally, there is a great deal of intensity that only shows in certain circumstances. Otherwise, they are both very laser guided and "tight-vested" with their hearts.

12. He has issues with Locco due to her well basically saying "If I must choose between being weak and being dead, I'd rather be weak for the dead have no dreams." She has her own "Fountain Scene" with Yvette. Nidhogg did not like this but he chose to leave it alone. He found it amusing when he found out that she suggested that Yvette make a "March Hare" design. He found it even more amusing when Yvette won an award for it.

13. After Yvette returned home from her first kidnapping, she developed a Jesse Pinkman attitude towards Nidhogg. What I mean is "HE CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS!" Breaking Bad fans will know what I'm talking about. So, I wasn't surprised when I later found out that Yvette did want him brought to justice for pretty much ALL of his actions, but especially against Lilith Kingdom.

14. Nidhogg has a foul mouth, especially when stressed. He is, however, no match for a sailor, but he can try. Heh. Obviously, as Prime Minister he is a lot more "clean."

15. His interests are actually similar to Yvette's but they have different tastes. Example: when it comes to say, the fantasy genre, Yvette prefers the more light-hearted fantasy in general. Nidhogg, otoh, prefers "darker fantasy" that is more rooted in reality.

16. He does not hate the clothing he designed for Lilith, he just does not generally wear them himself unless it's modified to his actual preferences.

17. I call his real name Heinrich, which is the Germanic version of Henry. FTR, I cannot stand the name Henry and prefer the NON-English version of the name. And really, I think Henrik is more suitable anyway. FTR, the name means "Ruler of the home." Nidhogg means "Curse-Striker." The name definitions are rather fitting for him.

18. He has a "Victory not Vengeance" philosophy(check out vnvnation.com) mentality. This means : "One should strive to achieve, not sit in bitter regret." He has lived by this all of life. One of the reasons why Louie is not dead.

19. Nidhogg is his "second name" that his parents had given him because he would suck on "Ygdrassil" licorice when he was a baby. He loves licorice and most often eats that brand. He also loves butterscotch, coffee(of all kinds), and peanut butter. He does not, however, have much of a sweet tooth beyond that.

20. Nidhogg was blamed for the death of his adoptive father. Not by Louie, but by other rumor mongering sorts. Reality: He had nothing to do with his adoptive father's death.

And yikes...I think that'll do. I do have more, but I can just make another post.

#love nikki #induq #nidhogg #love nikki nidhogg #headcanon #fanstuff #plotbunny #yvette #love nikki yvette #louie #love nikki louie #canon divergent

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floralseokjin · 7 years

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hooking up with the guy you’re neutral towards isn’t how you expected your night to go, especially dressed as a pumpkin…

pairing | jeon jungkook x reader genre/warnings | halloween costumes gone wrong, smut, FLUFF SOMEHOW IDEK ANYMORE words | 6,406

author’s note | lowkey am questioning myself after this one… but thank you @keehyung for giving me the idea—although I warped it so much haha. For reference, Jungkook is wearing this…hot, right?

“____, get out the car,” Jungkook whines, forearm leaning against the driver’s door as he watches you in the passenger’s seat.

You ignore him as best you can, arms crossed over the pumpkin head you’ve ripped off in defiance, hoping that if you keep this up he’d have no choice but to drive you all the way home, so you could run inside and never come back out again. You’re humiliated—tricked, and you can’t ever show your face around these parts of town again. Actually. Just the whole town. You will become a recluse, a hermit.

And it was all because of Park Minhee and Kim Seokjin. Beautifully heartbreaking Kim-fucking-Seokjin. The love of your life, you are sure of it, and that rat who has stolen him for herself down to filthy sabotage. You hadn’t even known she’d liked him. She’d tricked you, swindled you out of your own love story with Seokjin and now here you are, stuck in Jeon Jungcock’s car dressed as a pumpkin and hating your entire existence.

“Get inside before I drag your ass out,” he threatens as you pout, and you continue not to listen. You just want to go home, you’ll walk if you have to.

“Fuck, come on!” He groans, stomping his feet like a petulant child. “I came here to actually attend the party.”

“Go inside and enjoy then,” you tell him, finally looking at him. He’s dressed in the most dramatic costume you could imagine, face painted white and black while he wears a brown cloak over his normal attire, tatted at the edges and the sleeves. You’d already had to ask what he came as when he’d picked you up and when he’d replied grim reaper, you’d scoffed. Didn’t he wear black? And not look like a wrinkly old man?

“I can’t,” he shoots. “I need you, remember? This damn place was free if you came with a date and you were the one that begged me to take you.”

That was true. You had to admit it. You had persuaded him to come along with you because you didn’t want to pay for entry. Parties weren’t your thing, so why waste the money. So, why had you even thought about coming in the first place? Easy. Kim Seokjin was going to be there and you didn’t want to miss your chance. Or a chance…or now, safe to say, Park Minhee’s chance…

It was all planned and you’d been excited. You’d practically blackmailed Jungkook to take you, using the best basis—he was a homework plagiariser. Every class he was in of yours he’d take every chance he could at stealing your answers. You can’t even remember how it started or why you continued to let him do as you please. But now, a few months on, he was sat next to you at every desk, like some annoying entity that wouldn’t go away.

You’d needed a date and you’d taken the chance. Then, you’d somehow gotten Minhee’s attention in the bathroom one day when you’d told her you were going with him. She seemed to be shocked at first and then suspicious. “I didn’t know you liked Jeon,” and when you’d lied out of your ass and said it was a first date kind of thing—testing the waters, some would say, she’d laughed in your face. “I thought you had eyes for only one man, and his name is Kim Seokjin.”

Were you that transparent? How did someone who barely knew know you liked the God himself? You were so taken back you’d ended up confessing your plan right there and then and that’s when she’d let you in on a little secret—she knew what Jin was dressing up as this year. And that’s right, well done for guessing, it was a pumpkin. You don’t know what had been going through your head when you’d decided showing up in a matching costume would equate to love story of the century for you two… But off you’d gone and now you looked like a world class idiot.

Seokjin was in no pumpkin costume, you don’t even know why that would have been believable anyways. You were the only pumpkin in this part of town. Minhee had lied to you. You gathered that by the way she’d giggled bitchily when you’d walked in. You’d bolted before you could see anyone else’s reactions and now you were here wondering how you could have been such a fool? It was obvious Minhee had some kind of ulterior motive looking back. She liked Seokjin too, that much was obvious now, unless she was just a spiteful bitch. All you could do was pray she hadn’t told anybody else about her cruel trick…which was doubtful to say the least—the whole place was probably laughing like hyenas at you right now.

“I can’t go in there again,” you almost whimper, looking Jungkook in the eye to show him how sincere you’re being right now.

To your surprise he doesn’t curse or continue to groan, instead he watches you for a moment, mouth open but jaw locked like he’s thinking twice about whatever it is he wants to say and then he bends down and gets back in the driver’s seat, letting out a sigh as his head fall back against the headrest.

“Is this about Kim Seokjin?”

You freeze, mouth open in horror at the possibility that Jungkook may know something. Is it that obvious? When you don’t confirm anything, he carries on.

“I’m pretty sure the whole campus knows by now that you’re in love with him, or something. He probably knows too,” and that’s when your heart rate begins to pound through the roof. Just imagining that Seokjin may know something is unbearable and humiliating and now you don’t ever want to leave your home. You’re a laughing stock.

“—and I hate to break it to you,” Jungkook mumbles. “But he probably isn’t interested if he hasn’t tried to make a move yet.”

Your face crumbles. You’re not going to cry, you already know deep down Seokjin doesn’t like you and will never like you. But just knowing Jungkook knows and thinks the same makes you feel like shit, and that doesn’t count the other people that probably realise too…Park Minhee for one…

“Oh no, oh shit,” Jungkook stammers, rushing over his words when he realises he’s fucked up. He reaches over to place a hand gingerly on your hunched back. “l’m sorry, I was trying to make you feel better.”

“How does that make me feel any better?!” You exclaim, turning your face to look his way, deeply insulted.

He watches you for a moment, eyes flickering over your face. It’s like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, shrugging before giving you something else—something that wasn’t the first option. “It just shows you he’s not worth the attention.”

You take in his words, knowing he’s correct but it’s not like you can stop yourself anyway and when you don’t reply, Jungkook sighs again, dropping his hand from your back to fall against the driver’s seat once again.

“What’s with that dude anyway? Why does every girl fawn over him, does he have a golden dick?”

“I wouldn’t know,” you tell him sombrely—pathetically really, but you’re still sad you’ll never get to see that perfect, pretty dick in real life…

Jungkook is silent at your reply and you wonder if you should take the chance to ask him to drive you home, but for some reason the atmosphere is kind of comforting. It feels good to talk about this, even if neither of you are speaking right now. It’s another couple of minutes until he does again.

“Can I ask you one question…?”

“What,” you mutter, afraid of where this is going to go.

“Why the giant pumpkin tonight? If you were going to run out as soon as you entered, what was the point?”

You bit back a groan of embarrassment, using your fingers to pull at the stupid pumpkin head that was still sat on your lap. You hated the sight of it now. How could you have been so stupid?!

“Minhee told me Jin was going as one,” you let out quietly, hating the own sound of your voice.

He scoffs loudly. “Park Minhee? The infamous bitch? And you trusted her? She’s been horny for his dick ever since he arrived here. She obviously had an ulterior motive.”

You hang your head in shame. Yes, it should have been obvious but at the time you weren’t thinking straight. At that, a sudden thought comes to you and you ask Jungkook before even thinking about it properly.

“Do you think he likes her? Do you think he knew I was coming here to make a fool out of myself?”

“I hope not because then he’s even more of a dick than I first thought,” he bites, annoyance colouring his tone but your too overcome with self pity to analyse it.

“What’s wrong with me?” You ponder out loud, probably melodramatically too. “Am I grotesque or something?”

“No,” he practically exclaims. “You’re pretty, super pretty.”

You narrow your eyes at his unusual behaviour. You’ve never seen him like this…so…nice…it’s confusing and slightly off putting…kind of unnatural—

A puff of air leaves your nostrils as you huff, realising what he’s up to. “Buttering me up won’t work to get me through those doors.”

“That-that wasn’t what I was trying to do,” he stutters, trying to look you in the eye but it fails when he speaks again, a quiet “you’re alright” leaving him and you swear a red tinge has formed on his cheeks. You can’t be sure because it’s dark and the only light you have is from the moon outside, but to you it’s a blush and the pit of your stomach jostles about weirdly. You chose to ignore it.

“Gee, thanks,” you thank sarcastically instead, wanting this awkward atmosphere to disappear.

“Really though, why do you waste thought space on that guy?”

His question only adds to your discomfort. Especially when you look to see he’s leaned in, face centimetres away from yours. He seems annoyed almost…his tone almost a huff. Hard and short as if he’s…jealous… The thought is a strange one but what else can it be? You’re confused, but for some reason you find yourself agreeing with him…as if you want to show him you’ll listen. He’s right after all…there’s probably other guys who are worthier of your time anyway…

You can’t take your eyes off him and as you stare you realise something; he’s actually really handsome. You’ve never let yourself truly look at him this close up before, and it’s weird you would think such a thing when he’s dressed as the keeper of death, face painted white and black. He still looks good though...

“I won’t anymore,” you whisper, and there’s something in your tone. You can’t place it.

“Good,” he quips. You’re still looking into each other’s eyes and your stomach is now doing somersaults. It’s like you’re magnetised to him and you can’t turn away, in fact you’re just getting closer and it’s when his gaze falls to your lips that you feel your heart jump too. You go to part them, you want to say something, the air is all stuffy and weird, but with your motion he shakes himself, swallowing loudly before he goes to straighten his back.

“Er, I should drive you home now…if you don’t want to go back tonight, I won’t force yo—

You launch yourself at him before you can overthink it—or rethink it…you’re unsure. You don’t even get what’s happening, but you want to kiss him. You want to feel your mouth on his, and for a second you do, flush and wet. His lips feel nice and you want more, but before you can push harder he’s gripping your arms and pushing you away.

“—wow, wait,” he gasps, eyes wide and glassy.

“Oh, fuck!” You groan, actually facepalming when you realise your mistake. “I’m so sorry—this is the worst night ever—

“No, it’s okay,” he hushes you and you stop to look at him, gaze careful as he carries on. “You just went from 0 to 100 real quick, wasn’t expecting it.”

“I misread the signs, which I seem really good at doing lately,” you try to chuckle and now you hate the sound of your own laugh too. You go to pull away from his grip, but he still holds you and you raise an eyebrow. He’s watching you seriously, his brows furrowed together as if he’s contemplating something. You sigh loudly. “This is so embarrassing. Ignore me—

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” he interrupts, voice firm.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. He sounds so certain, like he actually wants you to kiss him again. Well, he does. That’s why he’s asking, or telling you, you’re unsure but this whole thing is so unexpected and crazy. You think you need some time to process it all.

Jungkook pulls a face, turning awkward now because of the prolonged silence and he chuckles quietly, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, if you want to…”

Do you want to? You’re the one who just made a move and he’s the one who pulled away, but now he’s suggesting you do it again and just imagining it isn’t creeping you out like you’d thought. It seems kind of exciting… Your eyes fall to his lips again, they’re wet, like he’s dragged his tongue across them anxiously. You want more. You want to kiss him again.

You take a deep breath and go for it. His breath catches in his throat and to your surprise he stays perfectly still, like he’s frozen. You look up to see he’s closed his eyes. He looks cute almost, lids scrunched up as he waits for you to move and you let yourself relax fully, closing your own eyelids too as you press your mouth harder into his.

Kissing Jungkook is nice—good. His lips are smooth, nothing like the chapped mess you’d thought they’d be. His breath smells minty and after a moment of getting comfortable, he takes the lead. His hands loosen their grip on your arms to slide up your shoulder and one goes further than that, cupping your jaw as he parts his mouth, taking yours with him. It’s when you feel the first hint of tongue against yours that you move to hold him too, one of your hands leaving the stupid pumpkin head to wrap around his waist. The angle is cramped and uncomfortable, your torso twisted in his direction but you can’t get enough and it’s not long before you’re lost a little, sweet sights of pleasure leaving you as he grunts and hums into your mouth. You only pull away when things get to sloppy and you can’t catch your breath, otherwise you’d probably still be going at it.

“Your make up smudged,” you tell him, your hand that was behind his back reaching out to caress his face lightly. The black lipstick has spread all around his chin and cheeks, seeping into the white.

“It’s on your face too,” he informs you and you instinctively go to wipe your mouth. You can’t feel anything but when you pull back there’s grey on your fingertips.

“Wow okay, I can’t believe you just let me kiss you,” Jungkook sighs in disbelief and you frown; why is that so cute?

“Well technically you asked me to kiss you,” you quip, a wry smile on you face as you look back at him. He returns it, but it’s definitely wider and happier. It makes your belly begin to do weird things again.

“Can we carry on?” He asks bravely and this time you hide the shock on your face well. You were not expecting that, but the idea isn’t gross.

“I mean, I’m kind of intent on cheering you up now, and…it seems like it’s working?” He trails off hopefully.

“It’s working I guess,” you wrinkle your nose. Does he really want to make you happy, or is just a selfish excuse? “Why are you so eager to cheer me up?”

“I just don’t like seeing you sad…or hung up on that prick.”

There we go. The jealously was back and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from grinning. You want to tell him you haven’t thought about Kim Seokjin since you started kissing, but you think better than mentioning that prick’s name. You catch Jungkook’s eye and he purses his lips. The black lipstick is worn in the middle and you can see the redness of the flesh, they’re slightly swollen too.

“Okay, so…wanna get on my lap?”

“I…” you trail off, looking around outside. You’re shocked to realise you’re not even thinking about saying no, you’re just paranoid you may get caught. “...we’re in a parking lot right now…”

“Everyone’s inside,” he shrugs, slightly pushy, “no one will see, trust me.”

You hesitate for a moment and he must think he’s crossed a line because he’s apologising, words rushing from him as he tries to backtrack. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s your deci—

He’s cut off in shock when you move suddenly, crawling over the middle to sit on his lap in one solid movement, throwing your pumpkin head to the back seat with a whoosh.

“Oh, okay,” he utters, eyes wide once again as he looks up at you. His arms come out to settle on your hips and you find yourself unable to stop looking at his face. Even with smudged make up and dressed like a total weirdo he looks great—hot even, the brown hood of his cloak having fallen off and his black hair ruffled over his eyes. He’s biting down on his lip too and it makes your heart thud a little faster. You realise it’s because he’s watching you lean further and further down, your lips nearing his once again and then finally they’re touching.

This time the kiss is more frantic, wilder. You’re both hungry for something more now, line already crossed, barrier broken down. He smells good too, musky and manly. How come you’re never noticed before? He sits next to you in your classes all the time. He tastes even better, tongue warm and skilled, it snakes around yours, flicking across your teeth and the roof of your mouth as he tries to taste each bit of you. You’re moaning now, and you’re too far gone to get embarrassed. He’s oddly quiet and you can tell he’s holding his breath slightly, body stiff under you, but he’s also warm—so warm…the heat between you is almost tangible. You can smell, feel it and when you shift in his lap he finally lets out a groan, his hands sliding to your ass as he can’t help but squeeze a handful.

You’re wearing a skirt and it makes you even more sensitive to his touch when you feel the pads of his fingertips tickle the curve of each butt cheek. You moan and he pauses, basking in the sound and then he’s moulding the flesh in his palms, grabbing onto anything, desperate to pleasure you again. By now your body is heating up, every nerve end tingling as you press your body against his, circling your hips to the rhythm of his squeezes.

“Fuck,” he drags out, fingers now falling between your legs. It’s like fire inside there. You can feel the burn, the pressure, the need. He feels it too and pulls away from your mouth.

“Can I?” He murmurs, your eyes locking and you nod instantly, knowing for sure what he means. You can feel his fingertips playing with the sides of your underwear.

“Yeah?” He makes sure and you nod again, whimpering a little in relief when you feel his index and middle finger push aside the cotton, cold air traveling to your centre.

You’re wet—like really wet. You’re kind of shocked to realise how much. You can hear it when he runs his digits over your slit. You expect him to comment on it, maybe even brag a little, but he stays silent, face serious as he concentrates on each motion. You shift a little, straightening your back to let him gain better access, and his eyes travel to your core. He can’t see much, if anything; your skirt has ruffled up your hips but it’s dark and your panties still cover most of your centre, but his eyes still glaze over and his breath gets a little shaky. Your walls clench around nothing when his two fingers travel down to your entrance but he doesn’t enter, just rubs your arousal around, catching your clit when he slides back up. You groan a little and his irises sparkle, as if he realises he’s teasing you. He repeats the action a couple of time until you’ve finally had enough. You want him to enter you. You want to feel him inside of you.

“Don’t tease.”

He obeys almost instantly, as if he was waiting for you to say something, to spur him on and then one finger slips inside of you, gentle and slowly as he reaches his last knuckle. It feels nice and you moan a little when he begins dragging the digit against your walls. All you can concentrate on is the pleasure and you’re vaguely aware he only has eyes for your messy stained face, taking in each sign of euphoria etched on it.

“Another?” He whispers and you feel his middle finger rubbing at your entrance. You nod and he pushes it inside. The stretch is better this time, it feels fuller. More pleasurable and you can’t help but grunt and shut your eyes when he pumps then in and out of you. Your wetter now, if that’s possible. It’s a mess. You can feel the sloppiness between your legs, hear it too, the slick noises as he plunges in and out.

It’s when he begins curling the digits against your walls you open your eyes. The pleasure was getting enough and with your eyelids blocking out what was really happening you were losing yourself. Was he really going to make you come right now? It sure felt like it. His hand was determined, fingertips pressing against your g-spot and in the back of your mind you realise how weird this was…Jeon Jungkook was about to give you an orgasm…

However, what was even more weird was how he was dressed right now. You were drop kicked back into reality when your eyes fluttered open to see the grim reaper fingering you in the driver’s seat of his own car.

“This is so weird,” you cringe back a little.

“Why?” He asks, stopping inside you instantly as his forehead crinkles, like he’s offended.

“Because you’re dressed like this,” you explain, a hand reaching out to tug at his ripped cloak.

You watch his expression relax and you can’t help but wonder if he thought you meant it was weird getting it on with him? It wasn’t. If you’d ever thought about this before tonight, your answer would have been a yes, but now it was happening it really wasn’t. It was good. Anything but weird.

He shrugs. “And you’re dressed as a pumpkin, it’s fine.”

“Yeah but I took the head off, i’m really just in an orange shirt right now,” you argue. He’s the weird one here, not you…well…you are the one super horny and wet for him right now and he’s dressed like this…so on second thoughts…

“Semantics,” he shrugs again. “You still came to this party dressed as a pumpkin wanting to impress Kim Seokjin—” and the way he bites the other guy’s name with his fingers buried deep inside you has you feeling some type of way. You squeeze around them, unstoppable. “—and now you’re in my car getting fingered by yours truly so…”

You go to speak, you don’t know what but at the same time he pulls back and thrusts his digits inside of you harder.

“Jungkook,” you moan, falling into him, hands clamped around his shoulders as you gasp against his ear.

“Fuck, moan my name more,” he practically begs. “It’s hot.”

You don’t really have a choice because he’s now fucking you with his fingers so hard you’re jiggling around and moaning his name like your life depends on it. He knows he has the right spot, he can tell by the way you’ve turned to jelly. You can’t think straight, not even about his supposed jealously. All you want is him. All you want is him to make you come. All over his hand.

You’re on your knees now, pressed against the seat around his thighs, one hand on his shoulder the other flush on his chest, trying desperately to brace yourself for the grand finale. Getting caught or spied on is the least of your worries.

At the final hurdle your hand slips and falls to his crotch. Right on his dick. He gasps and stalls any movement inside of you, your orgasm begins to ebb away…

“Do that again,” he murmurs.

“What hit your dick?” You ask, confused a little.

“No,” he shakes his head, almost whining as he looks up at you. “Touch me.”

You listen automatically, rubbing your palm against his erection and squeezing the hard flesh. He’s into it, so much so, his fingers begin to go limp and fall out of you. You’re not mad, mainly because he looks so into your touch it turns you on enough just to watch. He looks a little fucked out. He looks hot.

“There’s not much room,” you whisper after a while.

The cloak may have ridden up to reveal his black jeans underneath but you still can’t truly pleasure him over them. The fabric is stiff and you can’t feel him like you want to.

“Take it out then,” he tells you and your heart stops for a moment before you do just that.

His dick is smooth and hard—really hard, verging on the point of painful you’re sure. How was he able to ignore this for so long? You waste no time running your fist over him, squeezing the head before you go back down each time. He’s watching your every move and to be honest, so are you… You can’t take your eyes away. You bet his dick could stretch you out way more than his fingers could. As if he can read your mind, he speaks, stuttering almost nervously, unsure…

“D-do you want to?”

“Want to what?” You ask, although you have no idea why because you already know what he means, but you’re awkward and stunted and you still can’t believe this is really happening, or why it seems so natural.

“Do it,” he mumbles, just as awkward it seems. “Have sex…”

It’s cute. You’ve never seen him like this before, and the last word you’d ever thought you’d use to describe him would be cute. But here you are. You hide your excitement and chose to lighten the moment, relax the tension a little.

“You just want to get your dick wet?”

“No,” he shakes his head, sounding worried until he looks up at you again to see you’re grinning and then he’s joining you… “Just…I’ve already made you so wet, it’s only fair I join in…”

There it was. You knew him well. He had to brag, if even just a little.

“Is that you trying to convince me?” You raise an eyebrow and before he can answer you cut in. “Fine, but only because we’ve gone this far.”

That’s a lie of course. But you’re not in the mood to analyse your thoughts and feelings right now. Especially when you’re dripping wet and hungry for him. You’ll work it out later, it’s not like you never seen him—you have class with him Monday, for crying out loud.

“Really?” He exclaims, shocked and you nod, already leaning up on your knees to try and angle his dick between your legs. He groans, eyes fluttering closed as he hums. “Yeah? Okay—wait!” He stops you suddenly and you pull away startled.

“I don’t have a condom in here, I didn’t think we’d be, y’know…”

The way he tries to explain himself is cute and you wonder if he’s ever thought it a possibility you two would or could hook up…

You continue to try and push your underwear back with his dick as you reassure him, “it’s okay, i’m on the pill—wait, you don’t have any diseases, do you?” You demand on second thought.

“I haven’t been with anyone since last semester when Rebecca nearly bit my cock in half,” he tells you and you pull a face. “True stor—

“Shush, just come on,” you stop him, not wanting to hear the weird details. “—in case someone catches us.”

He shuts up instantly and lets you take control. The first squeeze of his dick hurts a little, stretching you out wider than his fingers but once he’s half way in the pain eases off and before you realise it he’s buried in between your thighs, snug and warm inside your core.

“Oh, god,” he groans, head falling back against the headrest and his hands grip around your hips, holding you as he begins to thrust inside of you. He’s going slowly but when you push back and meet each one the sensation is stronger, enticing moans from the back of your throat.

He’s watching you with his mouth wide open and you hadn’t noticed before, but he’s sweating. Little damp spots sit at his hairline and his make up has rubbed away from his little sweat wrinkles around his mouth and forehead, his skin visible under the white and black.

“You look freaky right now, like old and creepy…”

“Mhm, you like this old cock though?” He hums and you hit his shoulder, grimacing but unable to stop the giggle that gargles in your throat.

“Jungkook, stop,” you whine, looking at him grin up at you, teeth on show. He looks good and your heart flutters. “This is honestly so crazy.”

Which one? The situation or the feelings you seem to be battling right now? Both probably…

“I’ve cheered you up though, yeah?” He asks, keeping conversation even though he’s still pounding into you, huffing and puffing as he tries to keep his voice steady. “Made you forget about Kim Seokjin?”

You nod, the way he bites that idiot’s name again causing you to squeeze around his dick harder. “I bet he couldn’t fuck you like this, he doesn’t have it in him.”

He’s jealous. There’s no way around it and it makes you feel things... Has he been jealous this whole time? Biding his time until a situation like this presents itself…

“Kiss me,” you utter, letting your head fall and then your lips meet and you’re losing it. His hands are everywhere, caressing your thighs and ass, pushing your skirt up to get at what he can, murmurs of, ‘wanna get you naked’ and ‘you feel so good’ leaving him as you go, tongues messy and urgent against one another.

You kind of wish you were naked too right now; it’s boiling hot inside the car, you’re sure the windows have steamed up and you’re sweating now too, Jungkook’s thick material of his costume pressing against your own clothing. You’re out of breath and panting and that’s when he pulls away to ask you if you’re okay.

“I’m really hot,” you admit, blowing air up into your face.

“Tell me about it,” he smirks.

“Shurrup,” you dismiss, although you’re grinning. “It’s really warm in here, we’ve steamed up the windows. People are going to know we’re having sex,” you whine.

“I told you there’s no one about.” He’s kissing your neck now, probably spreading his face paint as he goes, but it feels so good you can’t will yourself to stop him. “—and if there was— good,” he carries on. “Let’s hope it’s Minhee—show her you’re not bothered one little bit over her scheming.”

And then you’re kissing again, needier than the last time, teeth scraping against each other and tongues tangled together as his dick moves inside you, squelching noises filling the vehicle. You feel his hand meet between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your soaked panties.

“Wanna make you cum,” he moans against your mouth, but his movements are messy and uneven. The pressure feels nice but it’s not enough—

“Want me to do it?” You offer and he nods, letting you continue.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he lets out, breaking away from your mouth to watch. “Damn, be quick because I’m about to go.”

You roll your eyes. It’s as if he’s never seen a girl masturbate before—has he never watched porn? But you listen, mainly because you’re super close yourself. You know just the right pressure to add and pace to keep as you rub your forefinger around your hardened clit, fresh squelching sounding around you now as Jungkook just stops dead, dick buried inside you to feel you come around him. It’s not long and you’re holding your breath, willing the feeling to come over and then you’re squeezing around his length, walls spasming with the intensity of your orgasm.

“Oh shit,” you gasp, letting yourself breathe once more. “Oh, fuck—Jungkook.”

His name sounds good coming from you like that…

You fall into his chest, mouth on his throat as you kiss up it, feeling his adam’s apple bob up and down as he gasps and comes to.

“You feel so warm and tight,” he rasps out, breath shaky. “You came all over my dick.”

He sounds amazed, as if his wildest dreams have just come true and you’re filled with something…pride? Pleasure? You’re unsure, but your whole body is tingling and you just want him to fill you up.

You kiss up to his ear, whispering ‘your turn,’ into the shell before sucking on the lobe, nibbling on the sensitive flesh and then he’s practically roaring, gripping your hips to pound quickly inside of you, desperate to come.

It takes him no longer than a few moments and then you feel warmth shoot inside you, his white seed painting your walls uncontrollably, his grip finally loosening as he catches his breath.

“Fucking hell,” he sighs, pure bliss on his face as you pull away from his neck, taking in his worn out form. He’s wiping his hair out of his eyes and he looks a mess, sweaty complete with rubbed off make up.

You take a while to calm down and pull away from one another. As he slides out of you your panties fall back into place, trapping his come that’s trickling out by now. It feels nice. It’s a strange way to describe it, but it does…

“Okay so, party now?” He asks once you straighten up his outfit and your nostrils flare in anger, whacking his chest and making him yelp out an ouch.

“If that was a ploy to get me inside—

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” he frets, looking worried, hands coming out to hold your forearms and keep you to him. “Honestly me agreeing to be your date tonight was also a sort of ploy for myself. I really wanted to go with you,” he admits and you frown, the butterflies in your stomach foreign as he looks you square in the eyes. He’s nervous but he’s being brave…for you. He likes you, you realise. For how long you are unsure.

“—even if it was just for you to make dick cheese jealous,” he adds and you’re taken back by how selfless he is. He would really accompany you to a party just to help you make some guy who doesn’t give two shits about you jealous…? You’re touched.

“So, still want to make him jealous?” He presses when you don’t reply and you instantly shake your head, smiling sweetly as you cup his face, not caring if you get more of his make up on you. Not even caring what he looks like, because you probably look a mess too…

“I’d rather just go inside and enjoy the party with you.”

He’s shocked for a moment, not expecting your answer, but there’s some unexplained, unspoken words between you both as you sit on his lap inside his now, hot and steamed up car… He gets what you mean and you get what he means. You have plenty of time to speak properly another time. Tonight you may as well enjoy the party. You’d both made the effort after all, even if you had come dressed as a giant pumpkin…

“Okay,” he finally smiles—coyly and unlike him, but it has your heart jumping around inside your chest again. “I have wipes in the glovebox, let’s get this make up off, we look a little strange right now.”

After you’ve cleaned up, looking semi—presentable now, you shove the wipes back in the compartment and turn to face him again. You haven’t left his lap and a part of you just wants to stay here until the night’s over. But you don’t, because it seems like Jungkook really wants to go to the party.

“Ready?” You ask.

He nods before holding a finger up. “One thing,” and you watch him turn behind to the back seat, grabbing the stupid pumpkin head that you only have to look at before it starts to trigger you again. You groan loudly, head falling back in despair.

“You have to put it on, it completes the outfit,” he tells you, holding it towards you now and when you don’t take it he pulls you forward and places it on your head himself. He straps it on as you pout and pats it affectionately.

“Besides, you look hella cute— a cute pumpkin,” he grins, adding a small but proud, “my pumpkin,” that you are unsure if you’re supposed to have heard, but you do anyway, and you hide your own grin but blush regardless…

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #floralseokjin:writings #fic:stuffed pumpkin

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dondake · 7 years

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[josuro] vicis

rating: t summary: Rohan knows the theory, not the practice behind it all.

[=]

Kishibe Rohan had romantic experience. If pressed, he might reluctantly admit to having these experiences vicariously, for the sake of his work. Pink Dark Boy was by no means a fluffy, sweet shoujo manga series, but intimate personal relationships were very much woven into the fabric of a realistic, gritty society that he wished to capture and anyway, Rohan hated not knowing something others did. He had little interest in participating in these kinds of activities directly, the thought of wasting his precious time and energy on people who were not worthy of his attention churning his stomach, so he stopped couples on dates in remote areas and took to reading about first kisses and steamy encounters, taking notes methodically. Some could say that writers had no business writing about things they had no background in, but his audience wasn’t the type to be interested in erotic makeouts and anguished confessions of love anyway. He kept it brief and vague enough to feel believable and continued spurning the advances of faceless fans and the young girls he had the misfortune of making eye contact with when he rarely ventured outside.

In retrospect, he really ought to have also actively spurned Josuke’s advances, which he caught onto fairly early because he was observant and not oblivious to meaningful long looks and uncharacteristic favors done with contradicting explanations. He had no idea what he had done to make Josuke so enamored with him, but it brought him great satisfaction to know that someone so insufferable and big-headed had been brought down by his prowess and inmate charm. The only reason why Rohan did not utterly destroy him was because he was Koichi’s precious friend, and even someone as gifted and peerless as Kishibe Rohan could acknowledge strength when he saw it. So he allowed Josuke’s increasingly frequent visits to his house and the boy’s slow creep closer into his space and said nothing when eventually Josuke laid a tentative hand on his knee and continued saying nothing when his seemingly blasé reaction about the whole ordeal emboldened Josuke to bring his conventionally handsome face with his rugged features closer to kiss Rohan on the mouth.

So he was finally feeling firsthand the phrases like ‘nibbled on my bottom lip’ and ‘put his tongue in my mouth’, and admittedly, they were not all that unpleasant. Josuke followed the procedures faithfully, so those kinds of actions were as accurately commonplace as his repeated readings of them suggested. Rohan had not read much about the intensity of the ‘heat pooling in my stomach’ and the feeling of the ‘grip of his hand on my thigh’; some things one had to actively seek out, it appeared. He had closed his eyes to best immerse himself in the whole experience. Josuke brought up a hand to cup his face and he felt the infamous ‘heart skipped a beat’.

When Josuke eventually stopped, Rohan contemplated invoking Heaven’s Door to read about the other perspective in the act of ‘making out on a couch’. Doing so might not match the mood, though, and an artist was an expert at reading the mood.

“No offense,” Josuke said, “but you’re kind of a terrible kisser.”

(“Whoa man!” Okuyasu said to Josuke on their way to school the next day. “That is one serious bruise on your face. Is there a new Stand user around? Do you need my help giving them an ass whooping?”)

[=]

“Koichi, I need your help,” Rohan said. “Introduce me to Josuke’s ex-girlfriends.”

Koichi sputtered.

“Or ex-whatevers. That’s all irrelevant. I just need to know who he has made out with in the past.”

“This kind of retaliation is a little too intense for me,” Koichi said. “I don’t know if I can help you with something like that.”

Explaining that he had no intention of dating the girls that Josuke had dated only helped to confuse Koichi even more. Rohan decided to switch tactics. “Never mind about that idiot then. You’re going out with that Yamagashi girl, aren’t you? Tell me about your sex life.”

Koichi let out an unrestrained gargle scream. “I’d really prefer you just Heaven’s Door me without my approval if you really want to know about all that,” Koichi groaned. “I mean, I don’t actually want you to know but if you’re going to-”

Rohan used Heaven’s Door on Koichi.

It proved to be a fruitless exercise, as Koichi’s pages on Yukako were filled with decadent explanations of ‘Yukako’s hand, lily white and soft like a pebble smoothed by years of traveling in the ocean to reach the grasp of a fair maiden, was gentle and loving in mine’ and ‘her lips, trembling and warm, touched mine and I heard the choirs of the heavens open up and sing’. Rohan thought Koichi might be a useful consultant to write some of the dialogue in Pink Dark Boy when his editor suggested that he needed more flair.

(Though he had promised Koichi that he would never interfere with his thoughts again, Rohan erased a recent memory that read ‘is Rohan-sensei interested in dating Josuke?’)

Reading the stories of the girls that he saw most often with Josuke also did not prove to be very relevant. Not every girl had an entry about kissing Josuke, and those who did told nothing about technique that could help in his predicament. In any case, unlike the inaccurate conclusion Koichi had drawn about Rohan’s interest in Josuke’s personal life, Rohan was not particularly eager in dating Josuke (though he’d think about a ‘first date’ if Josuke ever brought it up, which would not happen in the near future during his current imposed solitude from the boy), but his pride was put out from being unskilled at something. Making out was such a trivial past time, but the thought of Josuke knowing he was not good at it was humiliating. Still, it seemed that there was no helping the situation beyond turning back time (currently impossible) or inviting Josuke back to change his mind (difficult, considering he had not yet found or had honed a method to indicate that he was actually a great kisser).

“Look,” Josuke said, after arriving quickly following Rohan’s sudden summons, “I get it was random and I guess I should have said something first, I didn’t even tell you how I felt yet so…”

Rohan used Heaven’s Door on him right then and there in the foyer.

He found the entry in Josuke’s head: Kishibe Rohan doesn’t kiss well. It was sandwiched between things like ‘he’s arrogant as all hell and can’t say things nicely but Rohan has a nice face’ and ‘I don’t know anything about manga but Koichi’s right that his manga is pretty good’. Rohan contemplated his options. He certainly could erase the thought and the memory that they had kissed, but Josuke would most definitely get it in his head again to try and kiss him and then they would back at this point. He could revise the thought to say that Kishibe Rohan kissed well, but a next kiss would prove it wrong. Making Josuke think that all of his kisses were good seemed counterproductive to the goal of being a generally good kisser; Rohan didn’t want people to just think he was skilled - he needed to have the proof behind that conclusion too.

“Did you just use Heaven’s Door on me?” Josuke asked, blinking as he felt something odd about himself and stared at Rohan’s back to him. Josuke touched his coif - but gently, as not to pull a hair out of place - as if it represented his mind. “I don’t really feel any different. I don’t think I like you any less.”

“I didn’t add or remove anything from your book.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Nothing; I didn’t do anything to you.”

Josuke would get no concessions. “If you were trying to check if I’m trying to trick you or anything - I mean, I’m sure you’ve seen it. I don’t know why myself but I think I like you or something.” He sounded bashful even if Rohan wasn’t looking at him. “It’s totally weird, I know, and I’ve been trying to figure it out and wondering if I should make you change my mind or something…”

“Unlike students, I don’t have the leisure time to do silly things like think about pubescent crushes and improving my kissing technique.”

Josuke followed him into his studio. “Erm, I know it’s a little presumptuous of me to think this, but since you didn’t mess with my mind to make me hate you or anything…” Finally armed with a paper cutter he used to cut his screen tones, Rohan turned to face Josuke with the full intention of finally decimating him and his beautiful face, Koichi’s friendship be damned. His bloodlust must have been palpable, since Crazy Diamond was now hovering behind Josuke and watching him carefully. “But I don’t really care if you’ve got no talent at kissing. I mean. It’s not some kind of thing you’re just born with and have no control over.”

Rohan’s grip on the blade in his hand tightened. “Get to the point, Josuke.”

“What I’m saying is…and you can totally erase this thought from my mind…you can definitely get better at making out. And, uh, I can help you with it if you want.”

“You can - help me?”

Josuke, for all his youthful bravado and confidence, was squirming. “If you’re going to make me say it, I mean I’ll volunteer to be the person you make out with. Obviously, I have ulterior motives here.”

“And you’re saying you’re an expert at it, aren’t you?”

“Ack! Well, when you put it that way. I’m not terrible at it, but it’s not like I’m the best kisser in all of Morioh, much less the best in Japan. I don’t go around kissing everyone, you know!”

Rohan let his hand flatten on top of his desk, although he kept the paper cutter right underneath. “If I have to learn something, I don’t take lessons from anyone who’s only second best.”

Josuke immediately straightened up and puffed out his chest. “Then actually I’ve been called the best kisser in the region. I’m pretty sure my ability could make anyone fall in love with me in no time.”

This was typical ‘flirtation’, this kind of unfounded boasting. “I don’t believe everything I hear.”

Josuke came closer, and Crazy Diamond disappeared, a good peace offering and an offering of his neck as any. “Then I’ll prove it to you. If you’re okay with that, obviously.” When Rohan did not say otherwise, he came right up and put his hands on the desk on either side of Rohan’s waist and kissed him quickly, testing the waters and ready to pull back if he got burned. The paper cutter was cool under Rohan’s palm but it was left on the table, and the feel of Josuke’s neck behind the collar of his jacket was red hot.

#josuke higashikata #rohan kishibe #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo #canadino fic #help

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bassfanimation · 7 years

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The Final Problem: Eurus’s crash therapy session

I've written one post talking about how my husband viewed the “I Love You” scene in The Final Problem. I wanted to write some more, as we’ve discussed TFP in depth together. We talk a lot about the media we consume because A) we're nerds, and B) our views are usually quite different.

It's also nice to have a male perspective on things, as it sometimes can shed some light where my female brain just bumbles around in the dark and stubs it's toe on the Feels Dresser. My husband views things very textually, but he is also fantastic at thinking about stuff on a meta level. It’s nice because he has no ulterior motives either, no shipper goggles or anything. I'm going to write a bit about his theories about TFP and what it all meant in his eyes. I'll add my own views as well, for comparison. This is going to be a long af post, so strap in!

(Disclaimer: this post may contain more shippy talk than you want, because I am a major Sherlolly/Molly Hooper lover, but you can also disregard my feelings and read for the hell of it.)

My hub said he views The Final Problem as the final case for Sherlock, which is essentially, solving himself. I remember when Mary's video appeared, and she said she was giving him the toughest case of his life. I seriously thought it was going to be for Sherlock to solve himself, which is the hardest thing for any person to do...to know yourself. Instead we got something equally wonderful, but a bit easier to solve: how to mend Sherlock's friendship with John and save him from eternal despair. Thankfully, Sherlock was a rousing success. He solved it.

"The next one won't be so easy." -Eurus Holmes, The Final Problem

The Final Problem, as my dude talked about it, is about the Holmes family, but mostly Eurus. It was about Eurus trying to go 'home', only she couldn't. She had to unlock the one person who could "save her soul", as the song puzzle went. In order to do that...she had to literally break down Sherlock's walls. Each major emotional wall he'd built was because of Eurus, so only she could break them down. Only she was smart enough, and ruthless enough, to accomplish this.

“You know the problem with disguises? No matter how hard you try, it’s always a self portrait.” -Irene Adler, A Scandal in Belgravia

It's very fitting that Eurus chose to reveal herself while she was disguised as a therapist, because TFP was in essence, a crash therapy session for Sherlock. Each room in Sherrinford was a self discovery trap. Now, someone was corresponding with me over the "I Love You" meaning and said it wasn't real because it was manipulation. That is correct in that it was manipulation...but that is what all therapy really is. It is someone very skilled manipulating you into understanding your own true feelings. As a person going through intensive therapy currently, let me tell you, this is exactly what TFP was. A very elaborate therapy session.

Room One: Sherlock, John, Mycroft and the Governor.

My hub sees this test as about Sherlock facing the fact that sometimes his actions will hurt his friends and family. Eurus gave Sherlock the choice of giving the gun to Mycroft or John so they could kill the Governor. He was choosing whether to hurt John or hurt Mycroft. Either of them would be hurt by being forced to kill an innocent man. Mycroft absolutely could not do it. John thought he could, but he couldn't either. In the end, their inaction killed two people, but Sherlock was directly responsible for that. He hurt John AND Mycroft without meaning to. The consequence was real...the Governor and his wife were killed. Sometimes your actions will hurt others, sometimes your innaction is just as dangerous. It will happen, and it will hurt you too. I actually 100% agree with this reading. My eyes popped out in amazement.

Room Two: Sherlock, John, and Mycroft.

My hub feels this test was to confront Sherlock with his arrogance. Three brothers, all hanging by ropes, one of them having killed their fourth brother, but which one? Sherlock solved the crime, but Eurus dropped the two innocent brothers, leaving the guilty one still hanging. The guilty man was eventually dropped as well, but it held a mirror up to Sherlock. How many times did he blithely solve a crime with no thought as to who might be hurt by that? It never mattered to him. Like Eurus said, "Innocent? Guilty? Punishing either feels the same." This is Eurus throwing Sherlock's arrogant disregard for real justice back in his face. He solves crimes to be "right", no matter what the consequence, no matter who he hurts. He's confronting his arrogance and his selfishness.

Room Three: Sherlock, John, and Mycroft. (This one may take some paragraphs, so bear with me.)

The coffin with the words "I Love You" on the lid. Me and my hub actually diverge a bit here, but I found his reading of it very interesting. Also, a man's perspective on love is great to have, considering Sherlock IS a man, and this whole episode is about a man’s love.

My hub was very passionate about discussing this one, which surprised me. Something he talks about quite often with me is how he feels female fandoms think they understand the minds of guys. "100 travel brochures do not equal a single trip." To understand a man’s feelings about love, you really need a man’s perspective. I can respect that, as I’d want the same kind of respect as a woman with my own feelings.

First and foremost, he thinks Sherlock's words were genuine. He said Sherlock's reaction was not that of a man who did not mean what he said...in fact it's the opposite, he meant it and it scares the shit out of him, hence the reaction we got. He said when you like someone, and they like you back but, for whatever reason, you refuse to pursue a relationship with that person. Often it's feelings of inadequacy. Sometimes you just don't really know how you feel about that person. Often, strong friendships can feel like love and if you are friends with a member of the sex you are attracted to, it can be easy to wonder if those feelings are love or not. The last thing you want to do is pursue those feelings and jeopardize that friendship.

If anything, the "I Love You" test showed JUST (he typed that in all caps in his chat to me) how amazingly important Molly is to Sherlock. He "humiliated" himself just as much as she did. By finally openly admitting that he might have feelings for her, he knows that he has essentially forever altered the nature of their friendship. Maybe it could grow into something more, but he could have easily destroyed it too. We see in the epilogue that they obviously got past it, but had we not gotten that scene it could easily have been the last time Molly ever answered his calls. That's why he has been so afraid to even broach the subject before now. The hub added to this that once you understand that Sherlock isn't a "high functioning sociopath" like he claims, then his actions all click and you realize he is a man who is seething with emotions and desperately trying to channel them in order to keep them contained.

"Sherlock is not all about thinking and rationality. He gets emotional, he lashes out, he shoots the wall. And when he can’t figure something out, he stabs it." -Mrs. Hudson, The Lying Detective

My hub continues on by saying that for someone as obviously traumatized by the loss of a close friend then it makes that scene with Molly so much more meaningful than just a guy telling a woman that he loves her. Imagine how traumatic it is to force someone like that to risk losing another close friend through their own actions. Sherlock actually doesn't consider John a friend at this point, he considers him family. They are brothers in arms. There's a special kind of relationship that guys share when they've fought alongside each other. That's what Tolkien was trying to show in LOTR. It's different from a romantic relationship. In some ways it's more intimate and closer. I think Mary saw that. It's why a lot of cops and soldiers end up divorced. Their wives see that bond that the guy has with his comrades and it puts a heavy strain. The fact that Mary was able to get past that and even encourage it is a testimony to just what an amazing woman she was. John was INCREDIBLY (his typed caps, again for emphasis) lucky to have her. (yay Mary Watson love)

To dovetail back to how this relates to Molly, my hub believes Molly would also be the kind of woman to be just like Mary. She would want him to be himself, to be with John, solving cases, being Sherlock and Dr. Watson. But again, he thinks Sherlock was just so afraid of losing Molly that he never even entertained the idea of being able to have a relationship with her, for fear of losing what they have. He is really surprised female fans don't understand this. He's heard so many women say that they couldn't imagine pursuing a relationship with a close friend because they didn't want to jeopardize that friendship. Even when you bring up that they are essentially already in a relationship with that person in everything but name. I actually agreed here, 1000%, because I've been in this situation myself...it is so, so, so painful...and you are always filled with regret over words that weren't said.

The last thing my husband said about the coffin test was that, to him, the coffin symbolized the death of Sherlock and Molly's current relationship, as it’s been throughout the show. It couldn't go back to the way it was, not after what was said. There is no more unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Everything is out in the open. There's only two outcomes now: either Sherlock did pursue a romantic relationship with Molly, or he simply couldn't bring himself to actually commit to her, but the words being said freed Molly of her unspoken, unrequited love, thus allowing her to actually move on. He thinks they did pursue a relationship, btw. He wasn't sure until our last viewing, but more on that later.

Lastly, I want to add that I view the coffin as an entirely different symbol. The coffin had the words "I Love You" on it. Where do we equate love coming from? The heart. When young Sherlock's best friend was killed, it effectively killed his heart. It was broken, shattered, dark, put away into a box....dead. The coffin represents the death of Sherlock's heart. It is the box containing all the love he used to feel inside it. The coffin test was by far the hardest test...it's the one that had the most harrowing effect on him. Opening your heart is the hardest thing for us, as human beings, to do. But Sherlock Holmes did it, even if it confused and frightened him to do it. Eurus forced it open, in front of John and Mycroft no less! Sherlock gently touching the lid of the coffin, he is feeling his heart, the heart he has missed for so, so long. He wants to break it out of that coffin...so he smashes it to bits, screaming while he does it. He is breaking his love free of death, out of that coffin.

"So many complicated emotions. I lost count!"- Eurus Holmes

Love is also confusing as hell for Sherlock. It's going to take a while for him to solve that particular one, for Molly. He can't solve it completely while in that room, so of course...he does what Mrs. Hudson said he does...he stabbed it...or rather, he dismantled it soundly. That's how strong his feelings were.

Room 4: Sherlock, John, Mycroft.

My hub felt this test was simple. It was to demonstrate to Sherlock that there will always come a time where he will have to choose between friends and family. He didn't have much else to say, but I have some feelings on it myself. I think Sherlock actually managed to turn the tables on Eurus during this one. Remember, his heart is wide open now. He busted it out of that coffin. It is confused and scared, but it is raw and beating like thunder. He cannot, will not choose between friends and family, because his friends ARE family. They are HIS. Their love is HIS. He cannot choose because there is no choice to make. He would rather truly destroy himself than dare hurt the people he loves any more. We saw this with the Culverton Smith case as well, so this one is no surprise. It was no surprise to Eurus either, which is why she was prepared.

Room 5: Sherlock.

Finally, the last bit of really amazing symbolism I want to talk about is when Sherlock was in the fake room, just outside Musgrave. The walls inside there were littered with photographs of the Holmes family. Sherlock, Mycroft, Eurus, Mummy, and Daddy. Sherlock's family. He is forced to look at those pictures...forced to look at who he used to be. Who Mycroft used to be. Who Eurus used to be. The love that existed there, the love he felt, the happiness he so briefly knew. He had made a prison inside himself...but suddenly he realizes it...all he has to do is push, one last time. The walls of the fake room literally fall down around him. His prison is no more. He's solved himself...now he must solve Eurus in order to save his family. He could only save John, and the little girl high above, if he solved The Final Problem: himself.

At last, we hear Sherlock say to Eurus when he's holding her in her burnt childhood bedroom that she got lost last time, but this time she can do it right. He's here now, here for her. He begs her to save his best friend this time...not let him die like last time. Sherlock effectively brings his little sister down to the ground again, and he did it with love. The entirety of The Final Problem represented unlocking Love. Love for his best friend, his inseparable partner: John. Love for his family, his big brother: Mycroft, who isn't as strong as he thinks, and Eurus, a little girl who was lost inside her own lonely, cold brilliance. Love for the quietly strong woman who's love for him was unbreakable: Molly Hooper. Love unlocked Eurus' prison, just as it unlocked Sherlock's. They brought each other 'home'.

And that is the long ass tale of me and my husband's discussing of this incredible, frustrating, tragic, beautiful, brilliant, messy episode of my favorite show of all time. I'll admit to you here, I cried in front of my hub when he compared the coffin to the state of Sherlock and Molly's relationship. He felt so bad, poor guy. I had also spent the day so upset over Moffat and Gatiss's flippant responses about the "I Love You" scene. Upon our final viewing at the theater though, walking out, my hub says, "I have a new theory. I'm almost positive Sherlock and Molly did pursue a relationship. When she walks into 221B, she's smiling really brightly, and she's heading in the direction where Sherlock was standing in the room." He is right. Molly could have walked in and simply stood gaping at the miracle of 221B's resurrection, or she could have stood alongside Mrs. Hudson. But nope. She went in the direction of the man she's loved for so, so long. She was going to Sherlock, who is now the good man everyone knew he could be.

Louise Brealey tweeted just before the final series aired that "Molly was back where she belonged." Molly belongs with Sherlock, just as much as John Watson, Rosie Watson, and Mrs. Hudson. She's a permanent part of this Sherlock Holmes's Baker Street. Forever. <3

#Sherlock #The Final Problem #Sherlolly #Molly Hooper #Eurus Holmes #long post #very long post #Sherlock meta

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